No Limit Texas Hold 'em Poker Tournament

Last night I played my first No Limit Texas Hold 'em Poker Tournament. Like about 10 million other Americans I first learned about Texas Hold 'em poker while watching the World Series of Poker on ESPN about two years ago.

Shortly thereafter, I was talking with a friend who plays poker regularly. Jerry told me about a website where you can play free online poker; Hold 'em, Omaha or Stud. I started playing for free, then a couple small online poker tournaments for cash.

Then, one of SunFyre's readers who lives in my city, sent me an invitation to a Lions Club International fundraiser poker tournament. It had a $100 "donation" and the first prize was $3000. The top 10 players win money ranging from $100 to $3000, with a maximum of 200 players.

I figured that this would be a good first-timer event for me for a couple reasons:

• The total payout was only about 30% of the proceeds, so I guessed it wouldn't attract many hard-core gamblers.

• It was being organized by the Lions, so I assumed it would be a bunch of old guys dealing cards, and they'd tolerate a newbie.

• Free food.

• I had 100 bucks.

So I called to register. The Lion I spoke to told me that they weren't expecting to get 200 players. The good news is that the competition would be lessened, but so would the prize money.

We got to the fire hall at six, and filled our plates. The food was provided by a local restaurant call Bixler's Lodge, a very smoky bar with excellent food.

Then we sat down at the poker table. I drew table #1. We were each given $1000 in poker chips. I'm starting to realize at this point that this event is a little more professional than I expected. It was run by a professional poker club, called the Four Aces Social Club.

They ended up with nearly 200 poker players, 182 to be exact. Sixteen tables of 10 and two tables of 11, including my table.

I, incorrectly, assumed that I had to knock off the 10 people at my table, then be placed in a semi-final table. Unfortunately, they did things a little differently. Whenever a table dropped to seven players, they broke up the table and distributed the players into empty seats. This disappointed me, because the end game, down to four or less players, is where I excel. My first goal is usually to survive, then get aggressive with the last 3-4 players.

I played quietly, folding most hands, even several good hands. Finally, I got a great hand, pocket aces and pulled another ace on the flop. One guy, I nicknamed "scruffy" in my head, had been betting on virtually every hand. He'd won a couple hands early, but since had lost several smaller hands. The was just a little below me in the chip count.

When I pulled the two aces, I'd been in the big blind. Rather than betting, I simply checked. When the ace came on the flop with two low cards, he bet a couple hundred. I just called. Then he kept betting, and I called. Each time I hesitated, just a little. Finally, he only had about $300 in his pile, and the pot was over $1500. He presumed I had an ace, but he had Ace-King. He checked, I think to save the "guy-in-a-wheelchair" a few chips.

I went all-in, which actually put him all-in; I would have had less than $100 left.

He about choked when he saw my aces. Scruffy was the first to fall.

Shortly thereafter, "Orange Crush", who had a bright orange polo shirt that slightly matched his complexion, lost to me on two hands in a row. Then "Billy Joel", who looked amazingly like the Piano Man, took a couple in a row.

"Weasel" went all-in with his last $400, three times in a row. No one called, so he stole the blinds the first two times. Finally, I got king-queen suited, when he went all-in with $520. Orange Crush and I both stayed in. They both had ace-jack, and an ace popped on the turn. I lost over a quarter of my pile. Luckily, they were both down substantially, and had to split the pot.

Not only did I lose some of my poker chips, but I lost a little game too. I'd been the tall stack since the first twenty minutes. That King-Queen loss came at the end of a session, so I had a 15 minute intermission to think it over. It shook me for about an hour, and I became very conservative.

I was down to just above my original $1000. Then I looked around the entire room, which had grown noisy. The noise was coming from all the people now milling around, all the players knocked out of the poker tournament. The original eighteen tables was down to eight. I made it past half-way and still had a decent pile.

At the break Kristen had asked who I felt were the best poker players at my table. I told her "Grizzly Adams with Glasses" and myself. Later, I played aggressively against everyone but him, and he never really challenged me. We both took a couple small hands and blinds.

Gradually, Billy Joel, Orange Crush, "Hottie", the only woman at our table, and "Fireman Jabber" who wore a fire company tee-shirt and talked incessantly to Hottie, all fell out of the tournament.

Throughout hour #2 poker players kept filling in empty seats. At one point we were down to seven, and I assumed they'd break up Grizzly Adams and me.

That's when it happened. Three new players joined our table, one with only $400, but two with huge stacks. I was in second behind table #1 chip leader, Grizzly Adams. I immediately was dropped to fourth place with lots of ground to make up. The guy next to me had nearly $6,000. I got really nervous when the two tall stacks both shook hands with the dealer, and he greeted them by first name.

The next hand I ended up head-to-head with Grizzly Adams. I can't even remember the cards, I just remember him raising, me calling, then I'm saying "all in". He called, and I won, virtually eliminated the big hairy guy. Suddenly, I had $3400, and was back in the game.

One guy I nicknamed "Doughboy" just kept hanging around. He played with less than $500 for most of the evening. Finally, he went all-in, and about four players called him. He won about $2500, an knocked out Grizzly Adams.

The next hand had a decent pot. I had pocket jacks. An ESPN commentator once said he hated pocket jacks, because you can't fold them, yet they lose too often. "Big Stack Mike" was the one that came to the table with $6000, and the dealer said "How's it going, Mike?" Big Stack bet $1000. I couldn't fold. A single queen popped up, then another, then Big Stack turned over his third. I was down to $1800 again.

The very next hand I pulled pocket 10s. Doughboy jumped all-in with his $2100. I'd seen him bet with garbage before, so I stayed. We were the only two in the hand. We flipped our cards; my 10s and his pocket Queens. My chances were about one in 26. The dealer flopped three hearts, none of tens, because I had the 10 of hearts. Neither of his Queens were hearts, so that meant 11 cards in the deck would give me the win, and I had two shots at it. Even the queen of hearts would win it for me. My odds jumped from roughly 4% to slightly over 50%.

It wasn't meant to be. The poker gods said, "Not in your first tournament, Rookie." A six and seven of spades was no help to either of us. Doughboy knocked me out.

At first I was pretty disappointed. I thought I'd played well, but two hands of poker later, I'm out. I wasn't going to win any money in my first Texas Hold 'em tournament.

Then I looked around. The tournament was down to four tables with 7-8 poker players each. Of 182 players I finished around 32nd and lasted for 2 1/2 hours of fast paced poker.

I watched for a little while. The dealer at my table got a relief break, and was calling in to the club, updating somebody on the progress. After he got off the phone, he said "Sir, you played very well." (He called every player 'Sir', probably to avoid inventing obnoxious nicknames.)

I thanked him, and said "it was my first time."

"You'd never have known it." he said.

Later I asked him if he knew where I could play more regularly. He gave me his number, and offer to accompany me to the Four Aces Social Club. I am not sure I'll go, but I took it as a complement.

The good news is that the Lions will be putting my "donation" to good use.

The bad news is, I really enjoyed myself, and I found out I'm just good enough to be tempted to donate more frequently to the poker gods.

Johnny Carson, King of Late Night, Dies

By JEFF WILSON

LOS ANGELES (AP) - Johnny Carson, the "Tonight Show" TV host who served America a smooth nightcap of celebrity banter, droll comedy and heartland charm for 30 years, has died. He was 79.

"Mr. Carson passed away peacefully early Sunday morning," his nephew, Jeff Sotzing, told The Associated Press. "He was surrounded by his family, whose loss will be immeasurable. There will be no memorial service."

Sotzing would not give further details, including the time of death or the location.

The boyish-looking Nebraska native with the disarming grin, who survived every attempt to topple him from his late-night talk show throne, was a star who managed never to distance himself from his audience.

His wealth, the adoration of his guests - particularly the many young comics whose careers he launched - the wry tales of multiple divorces: Carson's air of modesty made it all serve to enhance his bedtime intimacy with viewers.

"Heeeeere's Johnny!" was the booming announcement from sidekick Ed McMahon that ushered Carson out to the stage. Then the formula: the topical monologue, the guests, the broadly played skits such as "Carnac the Magnificent."

But America never tired of him; Carson went out on top when he retired in May 1992. In his final show, he told his audience: "And so it has come to this. I am one of the lucky people in the world. I found something that I always wanted to do and I have enjoyed every single minute of it."

His personal life could not match the perfection of his career. Carson was married four times, divorced three. In 1991, one of his three sons, 39-year-old Ricky, was killed in a car accident.

Nearly all of Carson's professional life was spent in television, from his postwar start at Nebraska stations in the late 1940s to his three decades with NBC's "The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson."

Carson choose to let "Tonight" stand as his career zenith and his finale, withdrawing into a quiet retirement that suited his private nature and refusing involvement in other show business projects.

In 1993, he explained his absence from the limelight.

"I have an ego like anybody else," Carson told The Washington Post, "but I don't need to be stoked by going before the public all the time."

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My Two Cents -- This makes me kind of sad. I always admired Johnny Carson for two reasons. First, he was a modern television pioneer. He gave as much as he received, probably more, to the entertainment industry.

Secondly, like some of my favorite pro athletes, he retired at the pinnacle in his career, when the only direction to go was down. Then he quietly disappeared.

So many stars return to the limelight later, not to contribute, but to milk what little fame they have left.

We could have easily seen Johnny hosting second tier awards shows, doing denture adhesive commercials, or being a regular on Hollywood Squares. Instead, he simply faded away, allowing the next generation of talent shine.

I'll be staying up late to watch Jay Leno tomorrow night.

My final hope is that we don't see idiots from the media creating controversy and mystery where it doesn't exist. I can see the National Inquirer style papers claiming Johnny had some rare disease, or some skeleton in his closet, using only his quiet lifestyle as evidence.

Rest in peace, Johnny.

16.7 Pound Baby Boy Born in Brazil

Ademilton, a 16.7 pound (7.57 kilogram) baby boy is seen at the Albert Sabin Maternity Hospital in Salvador, 1,450 kilometers (900 miles) northeast of Sao Paulo, in the state of Bahia, on Tuesday, Jan. 18, 2005. Francisca Ramos dos Santos, 38, gave birth to the healthy boy named Ademilton on Tuesday. He was the largest baby born at the Albert Sabin Maternity Hospital in its 12-year history, the hospital said. 'Obviously the baby was born by Caesarean section,' hospital director Rita Leal said. 'Both mother and baby are doing just fine.' (AP Photo/Eleoi Correa, Agencia Estado)

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MSNBC-- A woman in Brazil gave birth Wednesday to a boy that doctors have nicknamed "giant baby." The infant weighs 17 pounds, about the average size of a six-month-old. He was delivered by Caesarean section.

The boy's 38-year-old mother is diabetic, a condition which can commonly cause women to give birth to larger babies. The boy, named Ademilton dos Santos, is receiving oxygen due to breathing problems and is being given an intravenous glucose solution to maintain a safe blood sugar level.

The director of the hospital in Cajazeiras, an area in north eastern Brazil, said the boy is otherwise in good health. Doctors say the mother Francisca Ramos dos Santos is feeling well after her surgery.

The boy's father and four sibilings were reportedly surprised at the news.

He is the heaviest baby ever born in Brazil, according to Brazilian medical officials.

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My Two Cents -- This baby weighed much more than my twins, combined. I'd love to know more details about the maternity care his mother received, and how much pregnancy weight she gained.

If readers have other photos or articles about this giant baby, send them to me.

Introducing Our New CEO

SunFyre Magazine has a new CEO, at least for a couple days. Michael, a.k.a. Thunderbot, didn't submit a bio, but I've gotten to know him a little. I'll tell you what little I know, I'll embellish a little, and I'll flat out lie for the rest. You get to figure out what is what.

Michael "Thunderbot" Amadeus Mozart was born to an upper-middle class poor family. He lived in the poorest, most run down section of his entire housing development. His father barely made six figures. That's only one figure per mouth-to-feed. (Michael only had two siblings, but one of them had two mouths.)

Thunderbot got his nickname at a young age. The "bot" part came because Michael is a power wheelchair user, and kids in school thought he looked like a robot. Michael says the "thunder" comes from a thundering personally, but we thought that sounded like bullshiit, so we called his mother.

Mama, who coincidentally is named Wolfgang, told us the true tail. Apparently, Michael loved to eat prunes as a baby. She'd feed him his favorite snack almost daily, and like clockwork, about 20 minutes later, his bowels would begin to rumble. The sound would get so loud, the neighbors on the cul-de-sac would gather their children out of the swimming pools, fearing an approaching storm. Then "Thunder" as he became known, would release one squeaky little fart and one little turd. After a while, the neighbors became accustomed, and when they heard the noise they'd sigh and say "it's not a storm, it's only Thunder."

Thunderbot now lives in Erie, Pennsylvania and is active in a local marching band and the Knights of Columbus. He works as a professional advocate for physically disabled people and band fags. He is also a member of Toastmasters and begins every speech with the words "This one time, at gimp camp..."

Thunderbot attended Edinboro University of Pennsylvania and has a Masters degree in counseling. He also has a Ph.D. in veterinary medicine from a $395 online degree program. He was given the doctorate based on life experience after explaining how he once saved a beached whale, almost. He's hoping to open a veterinary practice, as soon as the Attorney General's case against his Alma Mater is dismissed.

His greatest desire is to ask Angelina Jolie to make sweet love. His greatest fear is that she'll say yes.

We'd like to welcome Thunder to his new position as CEO. We will kneel before him in humility and reverence, at least until some other guy comes by and donates 20 bucks.

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Thunderbot Responds...

Michael, a.k.a. CEO Thunderbot, responds to his biography. Apparently he doesn't care at all about the content and quality of SunFyre Magazine, but wants his history accurately portrayed... here's the "truth" according to "The Bot".

My Darling SunFyre Readers,

As the new CEO of Sunfyre, I feel it is my duty to accurately update the bio written for me. As you may know, the author’s writing experience was gained during an intership at CBS. There he learned the journalistic skill of “fact or fiction, it’s all the same to us.” I will endeavor to correct the inaccuracies in red, to give you a better understanding of my colorful past. Shall we begin?

Michael "Thunderbot" Amadeus Mozart was born to an upper-middle class poor family. He lived in the poorest, most run down section of his entire housing development. (Not true. Sunfyre’s section was worse, but he won’t admit it. )

His father barely made six figures. That's only one figure per mouth-to-feed. Michael only had two siblings, but one of them had two mouths. (Wrong. He had two mouths because he had two heads. He was our Summer income on the County Fair circuit. )

Thunderbot got his nickname at a young age. The "bot" part came because Michael is a power wheelchair user, and kids in school thought he looked like a robot. Michael says the "thunder" comes from a thundering personally, but we thought that sounded like bullshiit, so we called his mother. (I have a philosophy, if you can’t correctly spell the curse word, you can’t use the curse word. Hey, Sunfyre. You spell “b---sh--” with one “i,” not two.)

Mama, who coincidentally is named Wolfgang, (That’s her middle name. Her first name is Estergarden) told us the true tail. Apparently, Michael loved to eat prunes as a baby. She'd feed him his favorite snack almost daily, and like clockwork, about 20 minutes later, his bowels would begin to rumble. The sound would get so loud, the neighbors on the cul-de-sac would gather their children out of the swimming pools, fearing an approaching storm. Then "Thunder" as he became known, would release one squeaky little fart and one little turd. After a while, the neighbors became accustomed, and when they heard the noise they'd sigh and say "it's not a storm, it's only Thunder." (Ok, this part is true.)

Thunderbot now lives in Erie, Pennsylvania and is active in a local marching band (It’s not a marching band you @#*% idiot, it’s a drum corps!) and the Knights of Columbus. He works as a professional advocate for physically disabled people and band fags (@#*% drum corps). He is also a member of Toastmasters and begins every speech with the words "This one time, at gimp camp..."

Thunderbot attended Edinboro University of Pennsylvania and has a Masters degree in counseling. He also has a Ph.D. in veterinary medicine from a $395 online degree program. He was given the doctorate based on life experience after explaining how he once saved a beached whale, almost. He's hoping to open a veterinary practice, as soon as the Attorney General's case against his Alma Mater is dismissed. (Even if I never practice again, it’s still a great pick-up line. Women love animals, and the vets who heal them.)

His greatest desire is to ask Angelina Jolie to make sweet love. His greatest fear is that she'll say yes. (I agree that Angelina is a beautiful woman and very desirable, but my true fantasy woman is Kathy Ireland. She has the most incredible eyes…the kind of eyes …you could get lost in…ok, I know, she’s married and has kids. So what! It’s not like I would ever have a shot…even if she wasn’t married. Curse you, Sunfyre for bringing up these feelings I’ve kept so deep for so long! (sob!))

We'd like to welcome Thunder to his new position as CEO. We will kneel before him in humility and reverence, (yeah, right) at least until some other guy comes by and donates 20 bucks. (Don’t hold your breath!)

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You too can be CEO of the Day.

Thunder doesn't currently have a website, so I guess he's living vicariously through SunFyre. Therefore, his photo isn't linked. If you become CEO, even you can have your picture on our home page, several article pages, and your very own bio page. And if you have a website, I'll even link it from your picture.

Super Bowl Predictions

My Monday morning pick to win Super Bowl XXXIX is the Philadelphia Eagles. They looked amazing against an over-rated Minnesota Vikings team. I don't think the Atlanta Falcons will be able to keep up in the NFC Title Game.

I think the Pittsburgh Steelers will go on to win the AFC Championship Game, and, as we were hoping for several years ago, we will see an all-Pennsylvania Super Bowl.

Going into Sunday, I was still predicting that the Indianapolis Colts could reverse their New England Patriots trend, and advance to the AFC Title Game. I think the only team that could beat Pittsburgh is Indianapolis. Unfortunately, Peyton Manning and his Colts won't get the opportunity.

The Dreams Return

My sleep had improved for several months. Thankfully, December was a great month. When I needed strength and health the most, my sleep apnea seemed to subside, and I had very few dreams.

The dreams I did have weren't extremely vivid. They were just typical dreams, and usually, the only reason I remembered them is because I was awakened. The alarm would go off, or one of my kids would wake up, and I'd remember dreams or dream fragments.

Since 2005 started, my dreams have returned. I'm more stressed than normal, and, oh yeah, I'm still disabled. I've been sleeping lighter, my sleep apnea has intensified, and the dreams have returned.

Last night I dreamed that I was stranded at the mall with several other guys in wheelchairs. When I was in college, that was always a minor fear, because the city bus only had two wheelchair accessible seats. If three or four wheelchair users were at the mall at the same time, and they all shopped until the last bus pickup, we had problems. It became ridiculous on more than one occasion. We'd be at the mall, see another wheelchair user and need to ask "Which bus are you taking back to campus?" There never really was issues, everyone seemed to treat each other fairly, because we were all afraid of getting stranded 15 miles from home. The sad part is that the mall was open until 9:00, but the last bus was at 6:15 p.m. If there were three of us, somebody had to leave at 5:15 or risk drawing the short straw at 6:15.

Anyhow, that little sidebar is irrelevant to my dream. Let's just say it was a stressful setting for the dream. Here's where it really became disturbing, nearly a nightmare.

There were four guys, and two of us would be stuck. I was trying to call someone to pick me up using my van. In my dream, my wife dropped me off, and took the van home. I knew she was going out of town, so she couldn't pick me up. As I'm calling, the other guys are volunteering to let me take the bus. I knew this wasn't logical, because I hadn't taken the bus to the mall, and I did own another vehicle. They were simply being nice because I was the most disabled.

I used to do this in college. I remember one Halloween Party, we got eight inches of snow. A couple guys with wheelchair accessible vans brought my friend, Sean, this kid I only knew as T., and me to a party. One of the guys hooked up with a drunk girl who got turned on by the idea of having sex in his wheelchair (yes, this actually happens) and he split with her. We all understood, but that left T. without a ride. T. had Muscular Dystrophy and I knew he'd probably never make it home safely. So did Sean, so we both volunteered our ride. T. knew he was the worst gimp of the gimps. Then it came down to Sean and me. Neither of us wanted to admit we were more disabled. Then Sean said his chair was low on power. I don't know if that was true, or if he was just scared. He lent me his stocking cap and I drove home in the snow, about 5 miles. It took me two hours, and Sean was waiting in the dorm lobby with coffee. Sean felt like a jerk, and extra gimpy that night.

The guys at my college always took care of the most disabled guys. You took care of others, because you didn't want to be the one being cared for. Whoever needed the most help from the community usually died. In four years, 11 guys died, 11 wheelchair users, 11 of the most disabled. I graduated without becoming one of the worst gimps.

Back to the nightmare... I was desperately trying to find a ride for myself, without much luck. My cell phone had become broken after I dropped it trying to dial. I could only remember a couple numbers, and none of them were answering. If I could get a ride, I wouldn't have to face the obvious, that now I'm the most disabled. These guys would give up the bus ride, and I'd have to accept, because I'd never make it home another way. I'd be the most disabled, and that was equivalent to a death sentence.

I woke up feeling like my life depended on a broken cell phone.

26 Excuses for Calling in Sick

I'm of the philosophy "Why waste a perfectly good Sick Day at home sick?" I'd much rather use sick days for mental health than physical health. I don't recommend you adopt my philosophy, frankly it hasn't served me well, and is one of the many reasons I'm currently self-employed. But, if you aren't self-employed, and you need a reason to call off from work, here's 20 of them actually used, according to the article.

• I was sprayed by a skunk.

• I tripped over my dog and was knocked unconscious.

• My bus broke down and was held up by robbers.

• I was arrested as a result of mistaken identity.

• I forgot to come back to work after lunch.

• I couldn't find my shoes.

• I hurt myself bowling.

• I was spit on by a venomous snake.

• I totaled my wife's jeep in a collision with a cow.

• A hitman was looking for me.

• My curlers burned my hair and I had to go to the hairdresser.

• I eloped.

• My brain went to sleep and I couldn't wake it up.

• My cat unplugged my alarm clock.

• I had to be there for my husband's grand jury trial.

• I had to ship my grandmother's bones to India.

• I forgot what day of the week it was.

• Someone slipped drugs in my drink last night.

• A tree fell on my car.

• My monkey died.

Let's take this a step further. Send me excuses you actually have used. Here's a couple of mine.

• My wheelchair broke down.

• The lift on my van is stuck open.

• The city bus driver didn't know how to operate the wheelchair lift.

• It's way too cold outside to leave the house.

• It's way too nice outside to be in the office.

• I had race tickets for Sunday's race, which was rained out, so they are running it today.

• My wife will be having two babies tomorrow. I'll be busy catching.

Lose Weight for the New Year and Look like Jennifer Garner

My Guilty Pleasure show is Alias, starring Jennifer Garner. The season premier was a two-hour special on Wednesday night. I watched it twice actually. Not because I'm obsessed, but a friend called me about 10 minutes before it started and asked me to tape it. She came over last night and watched it with me.

You're wondering what this has to do with weight loss. Well, on January 1st, you and about half of America decided to make a resolution to lose some extra weight. On January 5th, advertisers decided you were too fat as well, especially those of you who watch Alias.

The first time I watched the premiere was with Kristen, and about 3/4 of the way through I noticed an exceptional number of weight loss related ads. So many, in fact, that's why I sat through the entire episode again. Kristen helped me write down every weight loss or dieting related commercial. I came up with 15 companies, she came up with 16. Many of them aren't typically related to weight loss, but had a distinct dieting twist to this particular commercial.

First, there were several standard weight loss ads.

• Weight Watchers

• Special K cereal

• Hydroxycut

• One-a-Day Weight Smart vitamins

• Bally Total Fitness

Then, a couple products whose ads don't typically address healthy lifestyles, but they made an exception this week.

• Milk (24 ounces in 24 hours helps you lose weight.)

• Jared was back in the Subway commercials, two different commercials.

• This week's 20/20 episode is about weight loss.

• Applebees Restaurant has a Weight Watchers menu.

• Wal-Mart is the place to save money on everything healthy.

Finally, the bullshiit artists came out. These are the commercials who attempted to convince me they are diet foods.

• Dannon and Yoplait both perpetuated the myth that yogurt is diet food.

• Wheat Thins claimed zero grams of "trans-fat".

• Three Musketeers advertised they are lower fat than other candy bars.

Here's the truth:

Compare yogurt to milk. A single six-ounce serving of original Yoplait yogurt (from my refrigerator) contains 170 calories. Total carbohydrates is 33 grams, 27 of which are from sugar! An eight-ounce serving of 2% milk (fills you up more) and only has 11 grams of carbohydrates, and 120 calories. Milk also contains 50% more calcium, which some legitimate studies indicate may help you lose weight. milk also has 20% more vitamin D and more vitamin C. (Yogurt does have slightly more phosphorus, whatever that does.)

Reduced Fat Wheat Thins contains 4 grams of fat including 1 gram of saturated fat. While not a high fat snack, you get 150 calories an a bonus of 260mg of sodium. Neither of these are too bad, but you get virtually no nutrition. The only nutrient over 2% is iron at 6%. If you want a healthy snack, eat an apple. Need the iron? Try broccoli.

My personal favorite... Three Musketeers is a Candy Bar. If I have to look this one up for you... you're too far gone... have a Snickers, they taste better!

The one advertisement on which we disagreed was from Victoria's Secret. Apparently they are having a sale on large breasts, two for the price of one, or something. I wasn't really listening, but Kristen took it as a "you wish you were this hot" ad that suggests you might look like this with the right bra.

Apparently the advertisers are winning the war. Following the episode Kristen looked at me and said "Honey, I want to look like Jennifer Garner."

To show my support for my wife, I said "Honey, I too want you to look like Jennifer Garner." That's just the type of husband I am.

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If you missed it, here’s the entire episode…

The show opens with Sydney Bristow in an incredibly sexy outfit, seducing a bad guy selling top secret stuff to other bad guys. Then her cover is blown, and all Hell breaks loose. Lots of punching and kicking begin.

...Flashback 72 hours to find out how it all begins…

Sydney’s job is in jeopardy because of rogue behavior, Vaughn is a cry-baby again, and Sloane controls the world again. Something bad happens, and they show how Sydney ended up in the sexy outfit.

SunFyre contemplates masturbating to thoughts of Sydney later. (Which, if done properly, can burn several hundred calories.)

Sloane reveals the bad, bad man, and sends Sydney after him with a sword. She almost dies, then saves the world, thanks to help from friends and family and a computer nerd named Marshall.

I'll be tuning in January 12th to see if advertisers have given up on us already.

Sex, Dogs and Chickens -- Weird Headlines of 2004

LONDON (Reuters) - Humming sex toy shuts Australian airport. Taiwanese man tries to convert lions to Jesus, gets bitten.

Talking toilet orders German men to sit down. Chinese get busy signal on Beijing suicide line.

Judging by the bizarre headlines that greeted readers around the world, 2004 was a bumper year for the weird and wacky.

Canadian guide dog barred for only answering its master's commands in French. Japanese boy writes apology in blood for dozing in class.

The list is endless, living proof that truth is all too often stranger than fiction.

A vibrating sex toy chucked into a rubbish bin at an Australian airport sparked a security alert that only ended when an embarrassed passenger came forward to claim what was identified as "an adult novelty device."

A fervent evangelist who leapt into the lions' den at Taipei zoo and shouted "Jesus will save you" was lucky to escape with just a bite in the right leg when he tried to convert the king of beasts to Christianity.

Feeling suicidal in Beijing? Then be patient.

Nine out of 10 Chinese calling into a suicide-prevention hotline were greeted by an engaged signal.

When it comes to quirky ideas, man's ingenuity knows no bounds.

A German inventor came up with a best-selling gadget that berates men if they try to use the toilet standing up, telling them: "Put the seat back down right away, you are definitely not to pee standing up."

The Germans have been accused of being a deadly serious people with a severe sense of humor failure.

But several surreal tales that would not look out of place in a Monty Python sketch prove they can laugh at themselves.

German police arrested a flasher who stumbled over his dropped trousers during an aborted attempt to flee.

A cost-cutting German theater was berated for using just four dwarves instead of seven in their Snow White show.

A survey revealed that most German men wear the wrong size condoms. Germans said they find smelly co-workers to be the most annoying aspect of their jobs.

Britain had its share of oddities too.

UK nursing home staff were so proud of a 105-year-old woman who had smoked since the age of 15 that they cremated her with a packet of her favorite cigarettes in the coffin.

A British train conductor stamped and carefully returned the ticket of a slumbering passenger without realizing the man was dead. A South African radio reporter went a little more live than he anticipated when he was mugged on air for his cellphone while transmitting from a squatter settlement.

Romance certainly had its rough patches in 2004.

A Norwegian court acquitted a man accused of raping a sleeping woman after he said he was also asleep at the time.

All three wives of a 67-year-old Iranian man took overdoses in an unsuccessful triple suicide bid after the youngest wife sparked jealousy by buying an expensive pair of boots.

A Malaysian man shot his wife dead after he mistook her for a monkey picking fruit behind their house.

A Spaniard tried to have his wife charged with domestic abuse because she refused to have sex with him on five consecutive nights.

Two Italians with the nicknames Bull Shark and Nurse Shark donned bubble-helmet immersion suits to get married in a shark tank.

But from Latin America to Africa, tainted love turned twice to tragedy.

A Mexican man killed his lover in a drunken, drugged fight and then cooked the man's body in tomato and onion sauce and ate it over three days.

And a Zambian man hanged himself in shame after his wife rushed into their house to investigate a noise and found him having sex with a chicken. The chicken was slaughtered afterwards.

Killer Whale Gives Birth at SeaWorld

SAN DIEGO -- A killer whale was born Tuesday at SeaWorld San Diego.

Kasatka, a 28-year-old killer whale, gave birth on December 21st, 2004 at 9:22 a.m. in Shamu Stadium's main show pool after a little more than two hours of labor.

The healthy-looking calf instinctively swam to the surface to draw its first breath.

The calf is estimated to weigh between 300 and 500 pounds and measures 6 to 7 feet.

The calf's sex hasn't been determined yet. A blood sample will have to be drawn to determine the father.

SeaWorld's zoologists say the mother and baby both appear healthy.

The newborn calf is the fifth born at SeaWorld in San Diego and brings the park's killer whale population to eight.

The Year of Legacy -- January 1, 2005

Kristen and I want to build a house. We spent New Year's weekend driving around central Pennsylvania, looking at pieces of land. We saw a wide variety, from developments to farm land to building plots along rural routes. We found one situated directly beneath massive power lines, one next to a freeway overpass and one on a hill so steep all I could do was envision Homer Simpson bouncing down it yelling "doh, doh, DOH". Needless to say, it was a frustrating weekend.

But, seven hours being a passenger gives you time to think, coincidentally one of my favorite things to do on January 1st. I had time to reflect, and time to focus on the important things in my life.

Last year I made the resolution to make fewer resolutions and more results. This year I'm just making one:

2005 will be The Year of Legacy

Most people don't think about legacy at my age, but I'm 34 now and have lived three decades past my life expectancy. I'm not planning to exit any time soon, but I have a unique understanding that time is borrowed, all time for all people. So, I think of legacy.

I'll make this The Year of Legacy in four ways:

First, I will build a magnificent house. It doesn't have to be huge, or outrageously expensive, or even bizarre. But it will be a house that when people drive by, they poke the person next to them and say "check out that house."

Second, I will create financial stability for my family like we've never had before. I intend to grow my business by 66% and double my personal income.

Third, I will create legacy within my children. I'll create memories of times that will be the things of their earliest memories. When someone asks "what is your first memory" my children will smile.

Finally, I will dedicate more time to SunFyre. This little blog has become big over the past several years. I think it has the capability to do more, and to do more good. It will be my sole philanthropy project.

As I begin my year, I encourage you to make resolutions or set goals or define your action steps. Whatever you call them, create purpose and mission for your life. Don't get bogged down by "lose weight", "pay off credit cards", or "give more to charity". While these are all easy-to-say, hard-to-do resolutions, they aren't at the heart of what you want to do. Make resolutions that are at the heart of your being. Be healthy, create goodness, create security, embrace life, or perhaps establish a legacy.

Happy New Year!