Saturday, December 25, 2010

Jews Love Christmas (Pass It On): A Nevin Barich Blog Experience

Note to all of the non-Jews of the world, young and old:

All Jews love Christmas.

Jews love Christmas. We celebrate Christmas just like you. We have trees, bust out the lights, deck the halls, drink Egg Nog, listen to carolers, and listen to Christmas music like there's no tomorrow.

All Jews love Christmas. Even the orthodox ones. Oh sure, they say they don't. But orthodox Jews are just the Jews who were so scarred from not having Santa Claus when they were a kid that they rebelled by becoming really Jewish and trying to pretend that Christmas doesn't exist.

It's OK. I'm Jewish. I can say these things. :-)

Why do Jews love Christmas? Simple. Because Jews, my non-Jew friends, are just like you. We like presents. We like lots of presents. And we like food. And family. And time off of work and school. We like snow. We like twinkly lights. We like sitting on Santa's lap and telling him what we want for Christmas.

My name is Nevin Barich. I'm a Jew who loves Christmas. I am just like you.

And that's what this week's blog is about, really. Bridging the gap between Jews and non-Jews. During this time of year, we are exactly the same. There are no differences. We both love the same things and think the same way. Embrace the sameness. Embrace Jews this holiday season and every holiday season heretoforth.

And when I say anything related to Christmas from here on in, please don't say some kind of "Nev, you're Jewish" statement in response. Man, that gets old.

Aren't you Jewish?

Nev, you're Jewish.

Jews celebrate Christmas?

Jews don't celebrate Christmas!

Didn't you already have your Chanukah?

You know who Santa is?

You know how many "Nev, you're Jewish" statement I got this holiday season?


I am Jewish.

And I celebrate Christmas.

Pass it on.


And now for this week's:


Lindsay Lohan was accused of attacking a worker in the rehab facility she's in.

My guess: The rehab worker tried to step in after finding Lindsay trying to smoke one of her socks.

That's my theory, anyway.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Getting A Barbershop Shave: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience

There are many things in life that a man needs to do at least once. Among them: Backpack through Europe. Visit Fenway Park and pretend to be a Yankees fan. And eat a fried Twinkie.

And over the weekend, I found another one to add to the list:

Getting a barbershop shave.

Recently, some friends and I visited the good people at The Art of Shaving in Las Vegas, and treated ourselves to what's called "The Royal Shave." As a part of royalty, you get the works: Hot towels, straight razor, lather, facial massage, the works. You sit for 45 minutes as the hands of experience sculpt your face in a way a plastic surgeon never could.

Honest to God: It's heaven on Earth.

I mean, when you walk in the barber lies you down, invites you to put your feet up and take your shoes off, and proceed to make you feel like you are the only person who matters in the world. For 3/4 of an hour, you feel like the king of the world as you treat yourself and your face to tender loving care that you previously only got from your wife, with the added benefit of Italian opera playing in the background.

It's very Godfather-like. It makes you feel like Moe Greene, right before he got clipped through the barbershop window.

Here's the way I see it. Women have their facials. Women have their manicures. Women have their pedicures. Women have their spa days. In fact, when you think about it, women have just about every relaxation method offered to them under the sun!! What do men have that's both socially acceptable and won't get them in trouble with the wife to enjoy? (the second part eliminates both strip clubs and lap dances) If you think about it, the barbershop shave is man's only release. Where a man can be a man and talk to other men about men things, like sports and cars and action movies and "these kids today" and "in my day" and "look at the ass on her" and beer.

Seriously, the experience couldn't be any better if they had bowls of pretzels and Guinness on tap.

So mean: Add barbershop shave to your bucket list. Enjoy the experience of your face feeling like a baby's bottom.



And now for this week's:


Tony Romo is engaged to a pageant queen.

I'm sure this is a marriage built to last.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Playing Beer Pong For The Very First Time: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience

I'm not a drinker. Never was. It wasn't because of any real moral issue, dilemma, or parental fear. The reason is far more simple: I hate the taste. Beer. Vodka. Gin. Rum. It all tastes like piss to me.

As such, I had never taken part in a certain game, a certain ritual, that symbolizes youth, the feeling of invincibility, and stupidity:

Beer Pong. :-)

Beer Pong. An American drinking game involving beer and ping pong balls. I'd heard about it, read about it, and if I felt inspired, I'm sure I could've found videos on it. But I never did. I never played. Because I didn't drink beer. I hated the taste. Piss, remember?

However, recently -- during tailgating of the USC-UCLA football game earlier this month -- my friends began setting up for Beer Pong and encouraged my participation. And after thinking about it for a bit, I thought: Why not? There's not a lot of beer in the cups, I'm not driving, and I liked the idea of bouncing ping pong balls into cups (it sounded oddly thrilling).

It was time to pop my Beer Pong cherry.

So I began playing Beer Pong with my friends. And let me tell you: I was awesome!!

I mean, I was good. Really good!! One minute, I'm forced to admit to that at age 31, I have no idea what the rules of Beer Pong are (kind of like a 20-year-old admitting he doesn't know how to tie his shoes). The next minute, I'm fooling the competition with sudden bounce shots and hitting 20-foot fadeaways.

I was in the Beer Pong zone.

I don't often impress myself, but on this fall Saturday afternoon in the Pasadena Rose Bowl parking lot, I found out that I took to Beer Pong like Forrest Gump took to ping pong. There were guys I was going up against who claimed to have never lost a Beer Pong game. And they fell to the might and determination of Nev.

I played five games. Of those, my partner and I won four. And the fifth game really shouldn't count, because I was kind of swaying back and forth at that point. But it wasn't just about the victories. It was about knowing that if push came to shove, if someone put a gun to my head and said "Play a credible game of Beer Pong or I'll blow your brains out," I could rise to the challenge.

Although after five games, the beer still tasted like piss.


And now for this week's:


From TMZ:

Pop star Miley Cyrus has been known for making hits, but a new video shows she’s also taking some.

TMZ posted footage of Cyrus taking a hit off a bong at a party in her Los Angeles area home just five days after she turned 18 on November 23. In the clip, the singer gets the giggles after she smokes what is allegedly salvia, a natural herb with psychedelic qualities. Possessing salvia is legal in California.

After inhaling, Cyrus imagines seeing her boyfriend, Liam Hemsworth. “Having a little bit of a bad trip,” she tells the camera with a laugh.

According to TMZ’s source, Cyrus’ friend shot the video, but it was allegedly stolen or copied from her camera.

Miley Cyrus: Becoming the new Lindsay Lohan.

By the way: What is the deal with people filming one another doing drugs? I mean, is it the new trendy thing to do? What possible good can come from this?

And then the video always gets "stolen."


Sunday, December 5, 2010

Going Back To My Podcast Roots: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience

It's been a very crazy week, so I had no time for a real blog post. However, recently I went back to my podcast roots and posted a new podcast with my buddy -- and cousin-in-law -- Michael Feldman. You can listen to the 10-minute podcast here.

We talk about MILFs.


Next week's blog: I have my first beer pong experience!!

And now for this week's:


Queen Elizabeth II's underwear will be going on auction to the highest bidder in Miami.

Some SOTAs...just write themselves. :-)