Saturday, October 30, 2004

What's Your Fantasy?

Nothing calls for a regression to child like activity mixed with a $20 cover charge like Halloween. I personally enjoy the so-called holiday for a few reasons. Candy is no longer for the a sweet tooth, since eye candy is much more appealing and even fulfilling at times.

Tonight there will be plenty of girls dressed like they are walk-ons to a porn set. Safety in numbers I suppose, if they ALL wear fishnets or knee high "spoon me" boots then no one will call them slutty. I love seeing which sexual fantasy a girl is willing to fullfil and it is even hotter when she says she owns the costume. However, this makes me wonder about those girls that dress as pumpkins or as anyother object that requires harvesting.

Now I don't know how the girls even enjoy talking to guys on Halloween (besides even more free drinks) since we all go out of our way to be the biggest knob in the room. Take my costume that I bought for $60 last year. It is a full body Scooby Doo costume. The paws are specially designed to be able to hold onto things, like beer bottles, or a steering wheel (never together though). This proves that humor is more desireable than muscles, well until a certain point.

I think that Halloween may be the best holiday to people watch. Never could you expect to see a 6'5" Scooby talking it up with a near thirty year old school girl. Another advantage there is that all the couplpes are easily detected in a costume party. They find it cute to dress alike. Ok, she finds it cute and he will do all things possible to get laid (except understand the supply and demand of a monogomous relationship). Doctor/nurse, student/teacher what have you it only helps the cause for all envolved to bob for someone else.

Only once have I seen a girl dress in a costume that was both hot and funny. One Laura Bliss, dressed as Mary from "Something About Mary." She had a fine emsamble with her bangs gelled up and arched like in the movie. Well done Laura you were ahead of your time. I have no expectations to see any Marys there but I can always hope.

There is a party in Woodridge tonight that I just got the nod to attend. A party in Woodridge, I never thought I would live to see the day. I guess when a fantasy has that chance to become a reality, it is imperative to seize it. Regret is not only a bitch, its a suburb.

Thursday, October 28, 2004

Thanks for the Foreshadowing

This time of year allows me and many other sportsfans of the city to become blindly excited about a new season. For weeks now, the Cubs, Sox and even Bears' seasons have been well done. Every winter my blind hope comes in the form of another Bulls season. Now let me go on record that I will not be amazed if they win the championship. Ok, if they make the playoffs I'll be happy.

I was driving into the city and I noticed the new Bulls ad campaign. Sure they have a young team, and typically young teams are bad. However, a slogan like "through thick and thin" simply tells me to expect another year of mediocrity. I don't know what Reinsdorf's people were thinking. Chicagoans will believe if enough reason is given (see blind hope of every Cubs team and this year's Bear team).

How can someone approve the slogan of "we're going to suck this year"? Way to go Jerry, run the Sox into the being the best joke in the city and now make your other team a close second.

Tuesday, October 26, 2004

Hands in the Apocalyptic Cookie Jar

What a difference a day makes. Just yesterday the world was concerned with one of the biggest military blunders and today, nothing. I read only a portion of the story about losing 16 TONS of explosives from an Iraqi weapons facility. Losing 16 tons of anything is hard to do, but for our 24-hour news badgering to no longer address it is even more scary. A bit too strange with the presidential election less than a couple weeks away.

I went out of my way to see a broadcast about this and what newstory made it longer on network news? Ashlee Simpson's lipsyncing cover-up is more pressing than 16 tons of explosive being lifted. In all fairness, the article I did read said that the explosives were conventional explosives. WHAT?! Oh, only conventional explosives are missing? Well then I am ok with that. As long as we didn't lose the limited edition explosives.

With all do respect to mall security officers, who does America have over there in Iraq? Mr. Magoo and Hellen Keller with two super soakers? Missing a truck is bad enough but missing tons is unacceptable. That is multiple convoys leaving and no one saying a thing. Before any Bush kissers say that is not our Commander and Chief's fault, let me remind you of the managers of any team being blamed or fired for a huge failure since they were the one to position and train the players on the field.

I could only imagine the intelligence briefing that morning in the White House.

Powel: Mr. President, we lost 16 tons of explosives in Iraq.
Bush: There not lost.
Powel: Great! Do you know where they are sir?
Bush: You just said they were in Iraq. That works for me.
Powel: The explosives were in our possesion but are not any more.
Bush: Did you check where we last had them?
Powel: Yes.
Bush: Wait, would you say that 16 tons of explosives could constitute mass destruction?
Powel: Sir.
Bush: Who could have stolen 16 tons of explosives?
Powel: Al Queda?
Bush: Al Queda! Al Queda stole the explosives from the weapons jar, uh area.
Powel: Who? Al Queda? Couldn't be. Then who?
Bush: North Korea stole the explosives from the weapons area.
Powel: North Korea?! North Korea stole the explosives from the weapons area.
Bush: Who?! North Korea? Couldn't be.
Powel: Then who?
Bush: Saddam! Saddam stole the explosives from the weapons area.
Powel: Only ten more weeks of this. I hope.

I actually can now empathize with the those fans with the paperbags over their faces.

Monday, October 25, 2004

Pop Quiz Hot Shots

There are a few things that have happened in our society of late that I just can't let be ignored. Whether politics, rock, movies, or sports these topics are clearly a concern. Now there may be more than one right answer, so make sure to pick the ones that fit the best. Good luck and no cheating, God is watching.

1. By having Hootie and the Blowfish play at his wedding, Tiger Woods clearly supports what theory?
A. That he really is not black
B. Golfers are lame no matter what age
C. Hootie never left
D. All of the above

2. Ashlee Simpson's hit single "shadow" is about living in the shadow of who's dream?
A. Jessica's dream for a breast reduction
B. Ashlee's dream for rhinoplasty
C. Her father's dream to get paid to exploit his daughters
D. MTV's dream to have someone else that lipsyncs

3. Who will hurt the most from the NHL lockout?
A. Canadians, unemployment skyrocketed to 65% already
B. Hispanics, now there will be nothing to compare soccer to
C. The WNHL, a woman's hockey league poised to have skirts as the uniforms
D. Dentists, no trip to Cabo this Christmas

4. Which flaw of the presidential candidates is most over played?
A. The fact that John Kerry's face has more wrinkles than a bulldog's ass
B. George is so dumb it would take him 10 minutes to put on velcro shoes
C. MTV offered to make Kerry's term a reality show, called "The Swift President"
D. Bush uses Poland as our second best allie.

5. The best part about the change to autumn is?
A. Four months of Christmas items at the stores
B. Burning evidence, uhh I mean leaves
C. Watching people forget the terrorists for a minute and worry about the flu
D. People acting surprised about the cold, even though it happens every year


1. D, 2. A, 3. B, 4. C, 5. D.

Friday, October 22, 2004

Taking a Pounding Hurts in the Unimaginable Places

Earlier this week I had an job interview downtown and then I was to catch up with Rob and then hit an open mic. However, when life seems to be on your side and all has fallen quaintly into place it leaps out from behind the a-line filled jeans, screaming GOTCHA! There reality stands and lifts her veil as a butterface beauty that you already agreed to take down the aisle.

Now this interview was located on north State street. I parked at about 700 S. State street. I walked a near half mile to a lack luster interview where the only qualification needed to land the job was that I can dress myself. I return about two hours later, at about 6:00pm. I call my friend Alison (not the aforementioned Bungalow Alison) and told her I was heading out to get the car and would see her shortly. Enter the story.

Now I know I am at times a forgetful person. Sometimes things slip my mind, but nothing huge- like where I parked my car. Many people confuse sidestreet names but no one can confuse Chicago's famed State Street with anyother street. I apparently did. I could have sworn I parked on south State. Apparently, I did not park my car on State Street. Apparently I parked my car in the city pound. Which in all fairness is a completely understandable misconception, if you're Stevie Wonder.

I walked to 800 south State jusst incase I was off by a block. No I was not. I then stood there pretending not to notice half of Chicago driving in their own cars. I walked to the exact spot I parked at. The meter was flashing and I began to debate in my head what would be worse, a car towed or stolen? Towed sure meant it would be in my possesion soon but if it was stolen then I was the victim of something other than my own stupidity.

I realized it had to have been towed for one big reason. ALL the other cars were gone on that side of the road. Either I was towed or I was apart of the most maliciously efficient or lazy car jacking spree in city history. There, twelve yards in front my meter was a sign stating "No Parking from 4-6 Mon-Fri" and "Tow Zone." My initial thought that the sign was only for the space it was in front of, wrong. What the city should mention on that sign is "So begins your amazing scavenger hunt for you car. Good luck. Idiot."

I then walked over to the first person that looks like a police officer and find out she is but a mere traffic coordinator. We exchange pleasantries and note the irony of her GED based career and my liberal arts blunder. Upon my hunt for the car I met seven people who collectively could not have more than 100 teeth. It all became even better when I realized that everyone that I spoke with knew something about where my car was. Unfortunately, they hid that one bit of information in five minutes of rambling about why I shouldn't have parked there. " know there was a sign there right?" It is always great to make new friends.

One hour later, I began to actually understand where I was going. I was unaware that Wacker has more layers than a sugar wafer. I am now tired, the nose is running, my body is cold. I make it through middle earth and arrive at lower Wacker. With lighting that would only make an inmate confortable I clentch my fists; just incase a street thug has never seen an empty threat.

I walk into the trailer/office with my head hung low. The silver lining was that I was not alone. There were other illiterate buffoons present to pay top dollar to repo their car and pride. I was at ease until I was given the bill. $160, not to mention the $50 parking ticket from the city. Never would I thought Chicago would be swift about anything related to traffic but then when I thought about a block filled with cars parking at $210 a piece it all became clear. I now know how Daley affords awesome Christmas parties.

When I got to my car there was no damage done by the tow truck. There was something else. The pound holds records on every car that makes it into their area. Each car has an authorization code. I find it a bit ironic that even to be parked illegally one must have authorization, that's the government for you. I see it as an official moron club member number. My MCM# is 84889. Anyway, that number is written on my car, in big loud orange crayon.

I leave the pound with my car with an unexpected pride, for with this orange marking it looks like I just came from an auction of police seized belongings. If you ever think public transportation is over-rated, just look at the numbers the L costs $3, I spent $210 to park my car.

There will aways be fine print in life. Be careful, sometimes it is hidden on a pole 7 feet in the air in plain daylight.

Monday, October 18, 2004

Life is a Highway, Pay Toll Ahead.

Today I went into the city for an interview with a staffing agency and it went well but my compulsive analytical side will make me insane by the end of this column. I sure hope I get the job that I was told about but I by the time I got back to my car something came back into play.

There was a voice mail regarding my audition I did for Murder Mystery Productions. One of the dinner theater groups in the area. Well aparently my audition was good enough. This woman Kim called to ask if I would do a show on this Saturday. Now for those wondering this is in fact is a paying job, last time I checked.

Thus my official acting career begins. It is kind of funny that to pay my dues I have to die. I'll wait to I get invited back to let people know the details since I will be probably dead within the first thirty minutes. A momentus occaison, crowned by my car being at an even 25000 miles. You never know how far you have to go until you arrive.

I then get on the road where I soon loose some faith in humanity and the educational system of country. No one seems to know exactly how quick it takes to go half a mile to an exit. After that twenty minute delay, I am cut off by a mint green Jaguar. I do nothing rude to retaliate since I believe in kharma. Most likely someone will key their car in the parking lot of a grocery store for taking two spaces anyway. Plus it was mint green. Anyone that buys a mint green Jaguar clearly has issues.

During a traffic jam we are surrounded by the same cars for a long time. We create a drama between a random car that wants to merge ahead of us. As time passes the artificial animosity rises as though if they get ahead of us they will go eat your dinner. Let me introduce you to the metallic blue Audi (clearly luxury car owners need to back off of me). Apparently when you buy a luxury car, the rights to the highway come along with it. He not only cuts me off but then slows as he gets in front of me. I vow to pass him and do, but like a photo of an ex he shows up out of nowhere.

He zips into the toll booth ahead of me. Throws his change in, one coin at a time incase he won't have to pay the hole 40 cents. Money is tight for him I presume, car insurance, payments, plus I hear a penis enlargment proceedure is not cheap either. Well he opens his car door to pick up change. He didn't drop any! The cheapo scabbed 35 cents off the ground and sped off.

If life is a highway and death is the exit ramp I certainly hope heaven is more satisfying than a rest stop.

Sunday, October 17, 2004

Showtime @ The Old Village Hall

October 22, this Friday I will be performing Improv Comedy with the Orland Park Improv Troupe. Dan Rather says the OPIT show is more enjoyable than a double showing of "Taxi."

Showtime 8:00pm-10:00pm
Location: Old Village Hall, Orland Park
Cost: $5 at the door

It is in Orland Park so if you need directions call me or hit me with an email or comment to this entry.
See you there. If you can make it.

Saturday, October 16, 2004

I'm Not Afraid. Nor Should You Be.

Twice now in the past month I have embarked upon the most perilous conversation topics. Upon becoming a young adult I was given a brief overview of what not to do in most situations. Now it doesn't take more than my high school religion teacher's podium to tell me to question authority. Whatever you do in life, never ever ever bring up the topic of what? Politics and religion.

The truth of the matter is that those two areas of interest are the best way to really find out what other people value. Now most people don't know how to use tact. Our values are a lot like a banana. They bruise easy since there is minimal protection, and as different as they are from the next one they are still relative. We fear that if our values are found to be weak that no one will appreciate us at all. Tragically, this common courtesy of not pushing people's buttons is really an insult to the bond we all say exists.

Think about it. How else can you really learn about where someone is coming from than talking about their religion or political ideals? Only in a car accident do we give a concentrated dossage of personal burden. That is the only time we stop and listen to what is going on in someone else's life- because we are forced to. In a society that prides itself on technological growth/change we carry the most socially primitive mindset. Change is good, so long as it is not I who does the changing because I have no reason to do that.

This may stem from inferiority complexes most have about being portrayed as unintelligent. I have never met anyone that knows everything. That is the beauty. Why can't we sit down and talk about what we know and share it? Are we that territorial that even knowledge or the idea of knowledge can't be a communal concept?

I am not afraid to say talk about who and what I support. I will vote for Kerry. I have many reasons, the top being environmental. Bush is trying to sell our Alaskan Timber Reserve to the lumber industry and then he can dig for oil in the reserve there. Agree or not that is important to me. This idea that we need to hide what is important is insane. It is like the time you sat across from the person you were just crumbling internally to kiss. Your hearbeat was everpresent, it made your whole chest pound. Life does not have to be a game of poker, hiding until someone breaks. Sometimes it is still fun to play Go Fish. That is the passion we all have, to live and learn.

Passion is fantastic but some of us don't release it as much as we should. We have to maintain the prefessionalism, integrity, or what have you that was predetermined by generations past. Much like the dog that has been kept in the cage all day, when we finally let it out it goes wild. People raise their voice out of excitement and then the only way a counter point is made is by shouting instead of waiting until the full view is made clear.

Talking about religion and politics is not dangerous. It is exciting, wonderful, and captivating. Both areas cover so many cultures that are far from your subdivision. There is an exercise I do (and so should you) where I am in a conversation with another person. For a few minutes every sentence we say must start with "no." Then see how the conversation goes. Then we go ahead and start each sentence with "yes, but." Then see how the conversations flows. Finally, we start with "yes, and." Just see how we put up a wall when we talk to people. Of course it is hard to see things anyother way than our own, not every day provides a retrospective moment.

I encourage and hope that we can challenge eachother to open up and learn about the people you work with, eat dinner with, and call to say good night. There is a Chinese proverb I heard the says- The heart can't hear but it listens.

Friday, October 15, 2004

Postal Herpes

Ho Ho Ho boys and girls. It is mid October and one question that bothers me with only 70 shopping days left until Li'l Big J's birthday is can someone please send me a catalog? These things show up at our door step so much that I forgot who my local Jahova's were. Anything under the sun is now fore sale in a catalog.

There are some companies that are needed. What would we do if there were no outlet selling nuts, fruits, coffees, and jellies in a shoddy basket? What other gift could we give our family that sends the message if you actually thank me for this you are full of shit? These "waste baskets" are the new age ugly sweaters. Needless to say the yarn industry has suffered the worse in this transition.

One of my favorite gifts I was given during the holiday season was a big freaking tin of popcorn. I was nine. Since when does a nine year old need the weight of his head in popcorn? Especially since in the past eight weeks I spent selling popcorn for cub scouts. Caramel corn is not quite as cool as a Transformer.

There comes a point in life where we decide the best thing for someone is to do their grocery shopping for them and call that a holiday gift. During six straight Christmas we gave my Grandma some jelly and buscuit basket. It was not much more than a take out order from the Cracker Barrel. There were about eight different fruit spreads in itty bitty jars. The jars were small enough to be opened but near impossible to get any jelly out from the enclosed shot glass. Is it protocal when becoming old to embrace the flavor country called mint jelly? If so, I now have another reason to top out at 50.

The issue at hand is the barrage of catalogs that plagues our mailboxes. It is almost impossible to stop them too. Try and get off one mailing list and then you find out that your info was already sold to thirty more companies. Postal herpes in a way I guess.

(Voice over)
Some times of the year there are more serious outbreaks than others. Withdrawing from a mailing list helps prevent postal herpes breakouts, but remember there are no cures since this all goes back to that vulnerable night you had alone in your apartment. Weak, drunk, and most likely lonely a phone call was placed for an old fashioned stove top popcorn maker and an outfit best suited for a substitute teacher.

Like Motown said. Everybody plays the fool. We just don't need to pass the foolishness on to others though.

Thursday, October 14, 2004

Flu Epidemic or Predicament?

It is that time of year where the media enhances scare tactics of death by terrorism by something worse, the flu. Every year the news tells us that there is a shortage of the flu vaccine. Perhaps the doctors are trying to tell us all something. The flu vaccine is the guardrail to the highway of natural selection. Approximately 36,000 people die every year from the flu. Most of them are either infants or elderly.

Instead of choosing between presidential candidates try and choose who would get a vaccine. The segment had a bunch of 90 year old people talking about how they need the vaccine over the "young." Which besides the dirt we walk on young could be anything. If I was 90 I think I would realize the inevitable death is closer than nap time.

I would rather see the vaccine go to the infants mainly because they have the inflicted burden of potential. The elderly have already proven their worth. If someone 90 is going to really do something stellar for the rest of the community it will likely come in the form of an endowment. However, the circle of life is ignored since there is something that the elderly can do that the infants can't- vote.

This whole situation is centered on pride. Who really wants to be remembered for dying from the flu? How is it possible to fight the good fight when you all that is needed is some chicken noodle soup and a jug of orange juice? Another dilemma is exactly how do infants and seniors get the flu if neither one can leave their home on their own during winter? There has to be some foul play involved. Damn you Iraq! (isn't that the answer to all our problems?) Never thought a little Tussin could snuff out a WMD.

Like P. Diddy says vote or die! And by vote I mean bundle up and wear a hat and scarf.

Wednesday, October 13, 2004

Expect the Expected

During the past few days many celebrities have gotten press for reasons that appear shocking. However, when we think about it anybody could have seen such events.

Tiger Woods got married to a blonde Swedish woman. If Tiger is to be a black man then why did he hire Hootie and the Blowfish to play at his wedding? Prior to the gig the only black man that openly liked Hootie and the Blowfish was Darius Rutker.

Musician Tim McGraw is in the hit movie "Friday Night Lights" and does a wonderful job. He does such a good job people are saying that if the role had more dialogue he could have been considered for an Oscar. Who would have expected a country singer to be able to play the role of a drunk abusive father obsessed with football? You choose, art imitates life or life imitates art.

Billy Joel got married last week to a woman that is only a few years older than his daughter Alexis. After ongoing criticism for a failed marriage with the ageless beauty Christie Brinkley, it makes sense to do the only thing to clear that memory. Marry someone a third his age. The couple met years ago when Billy crashed his first Bently into a dining room in the Hamptons, so I hear. There is investment banking and now there is investment dating.

Lindsay Lohan made a music cd perhaps to compete with teen queen Hillary Duff. Her song rumors, about the papparazzi. Now who could have seen a young girl who's neck line get more press than her talent to make a song that says give me privacy? If she wants privacy there is always a cardigan.

Jennifer Lopez once again got married (sure it was a bit ago) to someone that actually was not a back up dancer. Strangely enough she had another lackluster movie opening (Shall We Dance?) shortly after the ceremony. Is it not fitting that Lopez's relationships tend to be as doomed as her acting legitmacy?

Sunday, October 10, 2004

The Proof is in the Pudding

No matter what you do there is always someone that inspires greatness from their own greatness. Moreso, it is impossible to understand the feeling obtained by being in the presence of greatness. Allow me to build a more than justified pedastal for one Bill Cosby.

My brother and fiance took myself and my mom to the Cosby stand up show yesterday. His perfromance was so good that at the times of high laughter I found myself not laughing but grinning with awe and respect for witnessing probably the best stand up comic ever. The show is the best one to take you spouse/lover to since it tends to be an intervention on why your wife is not your friend, she is your wife. Did I mention the show was two and a half hours, no break, not even a glass of water. Hands down the most deserved standing ovation I have ever given.

As it tends, there was more to the show than just the show. There were a couple people near us that just made the show extra memorable. My family were talking about random things (ok, it pretty much is either Peyton or Dan and Steph's wedding that we talk about.) when I started to multi listen.

Multi listening is not recommended for all people. If you are a glass half empty kind of person it would also be called eavesdropping. In my defense, they were talking much louder than recommended. When eavesdropping, people always tend to start at a rather mundane part of the conversation and keep listening out of hope of a juicy scandal. Like people go out to a theater and confess to adultery or something. Wrong. I and my family members were compelled to listen further when the lady said "well you can't compare apples to oranges." Topping the news at 10:00pm, apples and oranges, no longer comparable.

I then lean forward to address the fam and say "so how do you pretend that you weren't blatantly eavesdropping?" Amazingly enough, their conversation was headed nowhere and we went back to ours, until a woman sat down next to me. I should mention that because of seeing cheesy movies where people meet on buses, trains, and diner counters I think the feasibility that my life love will sit down besides me is very high. To date I am yet to be proven right on that theory.

Sometimes in life you may not know the level of class or rules of etiquette to obey. When in this situation, just look a the women in the room and look at the style of their purse. If most women have a simple strapped black purse, you guys best have a tie on. Otherwise you need to be escorting people to their seats. Or if some of the women have purses with sequins, you should buy the pull tabs in between Bingo rounds.

This woman that sat next to me had a humidor for a purse. At first I thought she brought a music box, then when I saw the troft of personal items. A cigar box for a purse? That just dictates a whole new level of classy feminity. (Groucho would be proud.) I tried. I tried so hard to not look as she scurried through the humiurse. She saw me looking and she covered her precious up and I was never to see it in full again.

Those tales thread directly into the message of the great Cosby. It is not every day you get to see the best doing their best. Bill Cosby started at 4:39pm and went until about 7:10pm. The next show was at 8:00pm. That is something truly awesome. A man confident and excited to perform goes for two and a half hours twice in six hours. When someone is great at what they do time has no significance, they simply say -bring it. I was in the presence of greatness on Saturday, and I am sure he relished the audience as much as the audience relished being with him.

Thursday, October 07, 2004

Watch What You Eat

First things first, I apologize for the brief sabatical taken this week. I pushed the wrong button on the mac and turned off the internet.

When choosing our diet we are given many options that prove to us who is in it for the long haul and who is in it for the duration of reality show fame. If there were to be a reality show based on my diet it would have to be called "Will he make it to 30?"

Dieting is similar to dating. Just about all of us claim to want the best thing possible, meanwhile we are scarfing Cheetos and chugging root beer. Sure a stable relationship is a balanced meal but does it hold to the picante low riding thong showing of a one pound burrito? Pass the rolaids my comrad because heartburn is just the first of many irreversible outbreaks.

Many people like to partake in a li'l Taco Bell. Granted they are stoned or drunk, but sometimes a sober person is in the mood for some "authentic" Mexican cuisine. It's not hard for Taco Bell to look authentic, let's face it the hispanic community makes over 80% of the fast food in America, it is a mere coincidence that this case is a taco stand.

Take a look at the advertising campaign of Taco Bell. Spice up the night. When a restraunt admits that no one in there right mind would eat their food while the sun is shining you should be suspicious. Having a sophomore understanding of the Spanish language will let you know that all the cool Spanish names are just cool because people are ignorant to what the words mean.

For example, everyone's favorite word- salsa. Salsa is Spanish for sauce, ok? Not any type of sauce in particular just sauce. That is as bad as the generic pop called "orange drink." Also, Taco Bell has a very popular entre (if that is the proper name) the Gordita. Now let me break this down for you. Typically, when there is an "ita" or "ito" at the end of a word it means little. The root is gorda, when combined with the "ita" translates into "little fat one." Now that the knowledge is passed, who wants to go get a couple little fatties? Don't forget, you are what you eat. Ummm nummy!

If we can learn anything from our food is that whatever is written on the label is true and as significant as the stone tablets. We will consider believing anything written over spoken word. Case and point, at church the priest speaks of seeing Jesus all around eachother and people shrug that off. However in the check out line when the tabloid reads "woman finds Jesus in her tortilla" most think "really? no way!"

In the quest to sleep longer and rush to work so we have something to hate, we grab insta-breakfast-shakes-gurt-wiches. If breakfast was really the most important meal of the day why do we allow for crap like Cookie Crisp? It is not a bi-polar cereal like Frosted Mini Wheats (tease). This is blatant, it might as well say that "best enjoyed with Mountain Dew."

There are cereal bars now for those busy folks that can't manage waking an extra seven minutes to whip up a bowl of Wheaties (tragically, even being the breakfast of Champions is not as good as the dehydrated marshmellow.). The bars of cereal are advertised cereal bar with milk. It is on the end of an aisle. Last time I left milk out for a week I had cottage cheese.

I have seen and eaten a bar like this (no I did not buy it, someone gave it to me) and the aforementioned milk was a bit thick. In fact it was eerie how thick it became after mixing with the four cups of sugar found in that cereal. This milk sure looked, felt, smelled, and tasted like bad cake frosting. Just when we thought the east coast west coast baking battles were over Betty Crocker invades to spit in the face of Aunt Jamima.

Whether eating chili cheese dip every Sunday until the Super Bowl, or jumping through hoops to make your love muffin always happy; chances are a heart attack will be waiting for you.

Saturday, October 02, 2004

Same Bat Time, Same Bat Channel

Only in Chicago could a pesimist and a historian be able to foreshadow the same event. Today, the beloved Cardiac Cubbies have taken an extra big bite from the reality sandwich and choked, again. I really feel for the Cubs. Ok, not really. The Chicago Cubs are the boy who cries wolf. Every bloody March we hear, "this is our year. Next year is here." Well, hook up the Budweiser drip and watch the ivy as it mirrors another dying dream.

Even though I am a White Sox fan I do not root for a Cubs dimise. That is unnecessary, as the downfall is near genetic. Whomever puts on that jersey will have the chance to the greatest almost. That is what the Cubs are, The Chicago Almosts. I want Chicago to win. I am convinced I will never see the White Sox win a championship as long as Reinsdorf treats the team like the old Savings and Loan. Chicago knows that the Cubs are the only gleam of hope.

Baseball in Chicago has become a socially acceptable self mutilation. Even if Nomar stays, or Woods turns that self-righteous prima donna frown upside down and pitches, or the best free agents sign they will not win. There will be injuries (see this year), there will be scapegoats (see last year and many more) and there will be their toughest opponent; each other.

Part of me thinks that the Cubs are afraid to win. There is so much pressure for them to win that the if one championship was had the city would expect a dynasty. Correction, the nation would expect it. I say nation since retirement communities across the nation tune into the Cubs like its a Matlock marathon. If any Cubs player wants to win a World Series, they have to leave Chicago. It is the prestigous ex-Chicago factor (see Maddox).

My dear Cub fans, I love you all dearly. I love how you are blind to history. I love how you force you next of kin to embrace the life of misery from Waveland, Clark, and Addison. I love the desperate optimism that of next year being here (something I only have when I watch Top Gun and think that Goose will live). Most of all I love the sincere, awe struck reactions once the season ends. You are the people that after viewing Titanic, said, "Well I didn't see that coming."

Chicago's hope is just like those trademark vines, eternal and contained by a brick wall of reality. Hang in there kitty, I hear next year is less than 100 days from arriving here.

Friday, October 01, 2004

The Irony Chef

By the time you read this the your mind has already decided to put work aside, queue the Loverboy hit song and take a mental escape home. Nothing like the backward process of thinking of home when working and work when at home. Gluttons for punishment, or maybe the parents of the 90's are right and we all have ADD. It got me thinking of the irony we bathe in every day.

I love smokers because they will remain animate about their right to smoke anywhere, anytime. They resist the health warnings, and other side effects. Yet whenever you see smokers in a car, they have their hand out the window making sure that the smoke does not stink their car.

Gatorade has always said it is better at rehydrating the proper minerals an athlete needs. It has been beaten into our heads, don't get water, get Gatorade. So what happens, Gatorade comes out with their own bottled water. There always is a competition, just ask yourself.