When Shzaam told me a year and a half ago that he tested positive for HIV, I kind of gave him the same reaction I would if he had told me that his dry cleaner ruined his favorite suit. While I can't say that I was entirely shocked by his news, it didn't really dawn on me that Shzaam could actually get really sick very quickly. Although there is no cure for HIV, I assumed that with all of the advances in medicine that pill popping and regular check ups would ensure that he continued to have a good quality of life for at least the next decade or so.

While medicine may manage the disease, it did little to manage Shzaam's willpower. Frustration with his doctors inability to do anything mounted as job opportunity after job opportunity fell through. His social life went from clubbing 2-3 times a week to juggling Action committee meetings and fighting MassHealth red tape. Impatience, boredom, and depression quickly set in as Shzaam completely lost the ability to control his life on his terms.

He made the decision to move back with his parents back in September. Plagued with a broken hip, this once healthy 37 year old can barely manage to get out of bed. While he's trying to remain upbeat, lymphoma and full-blown AIDS are in a battle to take over his body. During our visit yesterday he told me that the doctors informed him that he has two weeks left to live. After speaking with Queen Dee last night I completely lost it. I understand that we're not here on this earth permanently but I am so angry right now. I can't do anything except watch my friend suffer a slow and painful death and it's just not fair.

I'll miss our arguments about the Red Sox and the way that we would describe in detail what we ordered off the Bertucci's take out menu. I'll miss the way that he never, ever answered his cell phone but would respond to every e-mail in under 3 minutes. I'll always remember how he went out of his way to help me move into my condo and how handsome he looked in his suit at Liz and Ally's wedding.

Shzaam isn't dead yet and while I'm praying for a miracle, I am not expecting a Hollywood ending. How do you tell one of your dearest friends how much his friendship means to you? How do you tell him that hanging out with him on Fridays at Flashes, chatting over garlic fries and beer were some of the happiest moments of your adult life? Or that our flurry of daily e-mail exchanges were a beacon of light in an otherwise mundane work day? Whether he meant to or not, Shzaam reached out and touched a lot of folks and we are all better people because we knew him.

If you read just one thing today....

It takes a lot to amuse me. However, I cracked up so badly reading this that I almost threw up my Weight Watchers approved lunch. Check it out - it makes me 100% thankful that I didn't have to live through the 1970's.

Happy Halloween

Courtesy of LK's future mispucha

Free Taco Tuesday

Q: What's 35 minutes of my time worth?
A. $1.04 (shhh...don't tell my boss)

If you haven't already done so, take a break and grab your free Taco Bell today from 2-5. Mom and I just went to the one in Walpole - I got the crunchy, she opted for the soft. Diversity: it's what makes our family work. Sure the line was wrapped around the parking lot but I definitely haven't seen that many happy Sharon High faces since I walked through the Common during Hemp Fest 97. Kudos to you, Taco Bell, for curing my mid-day blues.

Sox in the City

The series was a run-away from the start, and my liver and sleep habits are grateful that the Sox managed to sweep Colorado in four straight games. I hardly ever go out on a "school night" but there was something about Mama T's text message that caught my attention. "It's not everyday that the Sox become the World Series champs", Mama T implored. As I watch every Sox game with the impression that they're going to blow it (until they prove otherwise), I fired up the Crossfire and headed into Town.

The main catch to watching the game with Mama T is the fact that she lives in Kenmore Square, home of shinanigan-loving underage students. We ended up at Copperfields, which incidentally enough was teaming with patrons who almost looked old enough to date. People were overwhelmingly polite - they were simply there to watch a baseball game. I gave a sigh of relief knowing that there would be no drunken brawls on my watch.

To be clear here, I went into Kenmore knowing full well that there would be a heavy police presence. Rather than add to the problem, I decided ahead of time that I would spend the night on Mama T's futon so I could enjoy the game responsibly. Despite the fact that both of us attended UMass-Amherst, we have never participated in a riot nor did we want to start now. After the Sox clinched it 4-3 we barreled towards here place, where we were intercepted by cops decked out in full riot gear.

There are a lot of things that the Boston Police could've done last night to prevent law-abiding citizens from getting completely frustrated. They could've posted which streets were going to be blocked off on their website or kept the T open later so people could take the T directly from Fenway to Kenmore without passing through Commonwealth Ave on foot. They could've had uniformed officers directing pedestrians through side streets or simply shut down bars in Kenmore Square for the game (like they do in Andrew Square for St. Patrick's Day)

Of course none of that actually happened.

The main problem for us was the fact that the police blockades barred us from getting to Mama T's house on Comm Ave. If we had known this ahead of time we definitely would've made alternate plans. I understand that the Boston Police were under orders to prevent riots like the ones in '04 and I'm grateful that a violent one didn't break out but let's be realistic here: some of us actually work for a living and simply want to get a good night's sleep.

Since I tend to get annoyed with stupidity rather quickly (when an officer explained that we couldn't go home because they didn't want last night to turn out like '04 I politely reminded them that the only reason that night was violent was because they shot someone in the eye with a rubber bullet) I let Mama T do all the talking. After pleading for almost a half hour she finally found a police lieutenant to take pity on us. To ensure that our intentions were honest, he literally escorted us to the front door.

Despite the post-game frustration, there was truly no better place to watch the Sox clinch the title than Kenmore. However, if the Red Sox are going to continue to dominate major league baseball, the Boston Police had better have more coherent plans for controlling celebrations without making us all feel like criminals. In all fairness, Boston isn't quite used to winning the World Series. One can only hope that the kinks between the BPD and reality will be worked out by the Sox win it again in '08!

Out of all of the crappy articles that MSN produces to keep their content "fresh", I think that this has got to be one of the worst. It tears into the fact that many of our fellow Americans think that it's less expensive to eat out then simply go to the supermarket, especially when they factor in their "hourly" rate. Apparently we're so obsessed with work that we make it known loud and clear to our families that when we pause to prepare and enjoy a meal that we are in fact on the clock. Nothing like rubbing in how busy and important you are to make your kids feel like overhead I suppose.

I had the pleasure of waiting tables in college. When it was slow, I used to like to watch the chefs prepare and cook the meals. I did learn a lot about cooking, including how horrifying the ingredients are that go into your restaurant food. As Paula Dean put it to Oprah "darling, I'm your chef, not your doctor". Aside from eating a plain garden salad, there isn't a single meal that you can order at any of the one million restaurants that dot the American landscape that is even remotely healthy for you - trust me. Even things that seem innocent are likely loaded with butter, cream, or oil.

Aside from walking off my shifts feeling ill from the smell of the fry-o-later, I learned that there are very few meals that you can get a restaurant that you can't cook for yourself. If you're a good shopper and spend 15 minutes a week planning out your weekly menu and shopping list, I guarantee that you eat better, spend less money, and appreciate your meals a lot more. The key here is planning and doing your best to stick with it. It's not easy, especially if you don't generally roll through your front door until 7 o'clock at night, but in the end it's at least worth a shot.

So try it for a bit, see if you like it. If not, you can always go back to your take-out ways. Should cooking become habit, you'll save beaucoup bucks (the average meal mark-up is 40%), feel healthier, AND have enough cash saved up to get your friend pahkcah02 a bottle of scotch as a show of gratitude. Better start DVRing the Food Network, dear readers.

It's Social. Demented and Sad, But Social

Like many of you superstars who became of age in the 90's, most of us chipped our social networking teeth on AOL instant messenger (aka: AIM). Unfortunately IMing your roomate that was 5 feet away wasn't nearly dorky or impersonal enough, so we spawned bastard step-children like Friendster and Myspace. I recently moved on to Facebook where I am completely overwhelmed by the updates from everyone I've ever met. Dan is peforming voodoo for the Red Sox? Harry met Sally using Friend Finder? Am I seriously expected to give a shit?

Because I obviously have way too much free time, I stumbled upon twitter.com today which allows users to update their friends on their life via SMS messaging. Every mundane activity you perform (eg: waited in line at Dunkin Donuts for 7 minutes, got a large extra extra) can be documented and broadcasted to everyone you hold near and dear. I suppose it gives a new meaning to the word "alibi".

Subconsciously, most of us are micro-managing our friends via these constant bullentins. Without them personally telling me, I know when my friends have gotten promoted, bought new homes, landed jobs, and aced an exam. To be honest, it completely sucks. Sure I'm happy for everyone's accomplishments but what happened to picking up the phone (or at minimum, an email) to let your friends know of your proud achievement? Even if you're a person who steers clear of the limelight, a happy, live reaction to something positive is warranted every once in a while.

Social networking is a powerful tool but these constant generic updates are a little much. Updates: use 'em, don't abuse 'em and for goodness sake, let me know personally if you have something exciting to share. I work out of my bedroom and completely get off on knowing that my friend's professional and personal lives are way more exciting than mine. As far as keeping me in the loop next time you make a DD run, please don't update blast me unless you're kind enough to grab me a medium, milk no sugar.