Was reading about Mark Zuckerberg in the New Yorker. The profile wasn't one of their best. It screamed out for one of those 22-page profiles that take longer to read than an entire issue of Sports Illustrated. I mean, this kid is kind of fascinating. He's 26 (or something like that), and runs one of the two or three most powerful internet companies in the world. And he really seems to run it, for better or for worse. A couple of things that were pretty interesting that I learned:

1) He's had the same girlfriend for about 7 years. Now, if you were 26 and had a 10-figure net worth, would you be tied down to one person? My guess is no. I, on the other hand, who as a 26-year old was serial monogamist (technically I was a Nonogamist) and a possessor of what could only be described as a weak libido, would be. This, and our Judaism, is about all that Mark and I share in common.

2) He has multiple opportunities to sell Facebook over the past few years and make more money than he, and many generations of little Zuckerbergs, could have spent in their lifetimes. While in his early 20s. And he turned them all down. Kind of fascinating.

Went to the gym tonight for the first time since...whenever. Two highlights:

1) Wore my new NY Giants T-shirt that I got as a free gift from Sports Illustrated. It was a tad snug, but hey, that's why I'm going to the gym.

2) Renewed my membership at 24 Hour fitness last week. Pretty good price. $49...wait for it...a year! No typos, no mathematical errors. Four dollars, eight and one third cents per month. Let's discuss this.

My previous membership was the already ridiculously low price of $19 a month, but at least they required me to commit to three years at a time, so they are getting a decent chunk of change up front. But $49 a year? Can any of my more business-minded friends explain this? I would love to see their business model and their revenue vs. expenses sheet. I'm dead serious. I am utterly fascinated by how they remain in business.

Don't get me wrong, it is not exactly a lavish gym. They have one person working there for about 14 hours a day, the equipment is moderately old and often needs fixing, the machines are crammed together, and they don't provide towels. But $49 a year? I still want to know what their magic trick is.

Do they pay people $2 and hour plus free gym membership (bringing the hourly compensation up to about $2.01)? Do they own PG&E and not have to pay electricity? Do they have compromising pictures of every powerful person in this country?

Or is it all a Ponzi Scheme the likes of which would make Madoff look like an amateur? No joke. Now, how they could get very far in $49 increments is beyond me, but maybe they have figured it out.

If anyone can shed any light on the 24 Hour Fitness model, please comment on this page. I would be forever grateful.

All I know is I am loving my 13 cents a day gym membership.

Went on a three-hour hike today. That used to be a short hike for me. I will be feeling today's hike for the next week. My body is a used car with little monetary or sentimental value, but no one is willing to sell me a new one. I believe I am stuck until it breaks down and is brought to the dump. The only other option is to buy lots of new parts and try to get it running properly. Before it is too late.

Sign me up for the dump.

Got to hang out with my two best friends, who happen to be 5 and 2. Is it weird that my niece and nephew are my best friends? Certainly not when you look at the alternatives. Reasons why Micah and Nina are my best friends, and have separated themselves from the pack:

1) Never get tired of hanging out with them

2) Get smarter every time I see them

3) Always have a lot to talk about

4) One of them is potty trained

5) Like to wear stickers

6) Give copious amounts of hugs and kisses

7) Think I am cool

8) Can throw them around with ease

9) Act so excited to see me

10) Like to wear Pajamas out of the house

Grabbed dinner at Andrew and Janet's. Sounds like a restaurant, and it might as well be one. Andrew and Janet, or Jandrew, as they are affectionately known, excel at a great many things, and feeding me is one of them. I've noticed Andrew taking a more active role in the cooking the last couple of times I stopped by, and while I support this burgeoning interest, and Andrew has some solid skills, Janet throws down in the kitchen. She recently coordinated an all day jamorama, where she and a couple of assistants (including my brother in law and nephew), made case after case of jam. It looked delicious. Do you know how many jars Janet gave me? 0. I had forgotten about that. Janet is dead to me. Long live Chef Andrew!

Okay, it's time to rattle off some long-belated updates. Ignore the dates. These are in no particular order.

My exercise and seeing friends have been improving, my New Yorker reading is abysmal, and my meditation has yet to begin. I am officially extending my campaign through September, because life is not yet where I want it to be.

Holy Crap. I went to the gym last night for the first time in forever, and it was ugly. There was definite "jiggle." This is going to be a long, painful road to getting back into shape. The 24 Hour Fitness staff wheeled an oxygen tank to me, claiming that they were doing it for all gym members. But why was I the only one with the tank? Hmmm.

Just so people aren't thinking that hanging out with friends is the only way in which I am honoring this campaign, I have been hiking three times since the campaign started. I love this time of year for hiking, because you can be lazy, roll out of bed at noon, have a leisurely afternoon, start a hike at 5 PM, and still have 3-4 hours of daylight.

Hiking in the Marin Headlands in the soft light of the late afternoon is incredibly beautiful, and occasionally moving. On a clear, sunny day, the fog starts to develop, making an incredible combination of sunlight and haze. It is hard to properly describe, but is easy to appreciate.

Hiking is my therapy, my pass-time, my exercise, and my spirituality. It is amazing how something so damn boring can be so perfect.

On Tuesday, I grabbed a quick dinner with John S. and Andrew. John S. is reprehensible. I am embarrassed that I still hang out with him. The less said about John S., the better. I am a little nauseous just thinking about him.

Andrew is a much better human being. I ran into him at a party, about 24 years after we had first met. We were in Boys 3 group at Poly Prep day camp when we were 8 years old. Andrew's nickname was Hands. He earned the nickname because of his dodge ball skills. In the same way that you call a really tall guy Shorty, or a fat guy Slim. He had Manos de Piedros.

Andrew is facing a very difficult life decision. He doesn't know what kind of Barbecue grill to get. It is really stressing him out. So many options, such a significant life impact. If you have any suggestions, please post them in the comment section.

On Monday, I at left-over Chinese food and then worked with Emily. Emily has this weird habit of always wanting to clean all of the dishes before she can start eating. It is pathological, but endearing. It is also part of what makes Emily able to keep the cleanest apartment in the world. It is uncanny. I could clean for days, and my place wouldn't look anywhere near as neat.

Em founded and runs a great organization called Opportunity Impact, that provides a afterschool and summer programs for kids in the Western Addition neighborhood. You should check it out at www.opportunityimpact.org.

I once spoke on the phone with Emily for four hours straight. No exaggeration. And neither of us are interested in the other. In fact, she is downright disgusted by the idea of physical contact with me. It was epic. And I believe we discussed absolutely nothing of substance.

While in New York, I hung out with John and Chris. I've known both of them since I was six years old.

John's nickname is Skeek. It means a geek times 10 or a geek to the third power. There is some debate on this.

Chris's nickname is Joey. It was given to him by his brother, whose nickname is Bubba. There is much debate around the reasons behind the nickname Joey. But there is no debate that it was given with the intention of annoying Chris, and that it succeeded.

John and Chris were two of the three guys I went to Europe with after Freshman year in college. They were both much smellier than me. We resented John because he was the only one who got any action on the trip. Chris resented all of us because everyone we met made fun of him for being a student at Princeton.

When we were leaving New York for Europe, all of the Moms were giving us hugs goodbye, telling us they loved us, etc. John's mom, Kinga, takes John aside, and utters the immortal line: "Don't hang out with Chris too much; you'll get mugged."

On the 4th, I hung out with my friend Bess. To know Bess is to love her. She is currently working on writing a porn musical, and you don't what to know what the research entails. She is doing her own Campaign, to get a bigger bootie http://www.atthecrossroads.org/campaign/bessw). While it may be somewhat quixotic, the effort deserves applause.

There was an entire summer when stalked Bess platonicly. I would go to her house and stay until three in morning, regardless of whether my presence was wanted. Telling me that it was time to leave felt like more of a suggestion than a command. She was often on the verge of tears when I would finally leave. It is this summer that forged the bond that we share today.

I will be doing posts covering the 4th, 5th and 6th, not necessarily in that order. I read in the New Yorker an article by Malcolm Gladwell on Operation Mincemeat. In 1943, the body of a dead British soldier washed up on the shores of Spain, seemingly having drowned. He was carrying sensitive information about the British plans to attack the Axis powers by invading through Sardinia and Greece. This information was relayed to the Germans, who planned accordingly.

The catch was that this man was not a British officer, but a homeless man who had eaten rat poison. Those sneaky Brits planted false information on him, made him up to look like an officer, and sent him floating along, containing copious amounts of misinformation. It worked, and the British pounded the crap out of the Axis powers when they invaded Sicily later in the year. Damn good ruse.

On a side note, I greatly prefer Gladwell's articles in the New Yorker to his books. When he is telling a story about one specific subject, he is extraordinary. His ability to create a fun, cohesive, enlightening narrative about varied subjects is a gift. But when he is trying to draw common pattern among different stories, it ends up feeling like pseudo-science, barely holding together, and it detracts from his amazing ability to weave a yarn. Stick with the New Yorker, Mr. G. Agreed?

Today I hung out with my awesome cousin Lisa. She is truly one of my favorite people. She has such entertaining mannerisms and facial expressions, and a generally cheery disposition without it being overbearing. And she likes to spend her fall Saturdays watching Gator football games and tossing back drinks. And pronounces the word "puppy" as "popay." Some of the many reasons I am a big fan.

My friend Max dissed me. He's now dead to me. The is almost no sense of loss.

My favorite part of reading a New Yorker article on the history of co-opting the term "Tea Party" was hearing some current Tea Party members from Boston refer to Cambridge as the People's Republic of Cambridge. Good stuff.