Wish List 2009

Wow, two posts in one day. Someone must be at work when his office should be closed. I would be shredding the sledding hills by now.

Here's what I hope, some far fetched for either Christmas or next year.

1. Bears fire Lovey, hire Shanahan and then bring back the Honey Bears. Losing is fine with a collection of hot teachers shaking pompoms.

2. National Treasure 3 to be expedited by Pres. Obama after he prioritizes how to fix amateur sports for his viewing pleasure.

3. All Chicago sports teams to have aggressively honest promos.
Chicago Bears: Tailgating not winning, is back!
Chicago White Sox: We got really lucky in 2005 and we're getting the band back together!
Chicago Cubs: We have hot girls
Chicago Blackhawks/Fire: We no you don't care but we are good!
Chicago Bulls: We score as much as 14 year old boys

Shoe Shine King v. My Coworker's Vagina

The past couple months since last post have been momentous and numbing. As tomorrow is Christmas it would only fair for me to share the two finest moments of my November and December.

Sometime in November I was walking back from an appointment with a client that most likely could care less what we sell. As I walked the streets of Chicago I learned one key things. I have the face of gullible compassion that street peddlers thrive to see. Is it so evident that my mother raised me with manners and that I like a good story? Man, I can't help it if I know the pitch is better than the actual copy of "Streetwise."

Enter the man who will never be forgotten. "The shoe shine king" of Chicago entered my life throwing all sorts of compliments. "Wow! What a suit! You must be a ladies man with that suit. You know what a ladies man needs to go with that suit? A shoe shine. The first thing a lady looks at are a man's shoes. ( I still challenge that claim) As I pause to chat he is already taking his office out of his Eastpack backpack and squirts a polish that looks like some fancy bird just deuced on my shoes. I see the polish, a cloth, and a brush and realize at this moment I have been assaulted with the tricks of the street.

Please envision a 6'5" guy putting his foot on the leg of a man kneeling to polish his shoes while everyone else in Chicago walks buy. Then comes the close. He mentions so quickly that this shine will last three weeks and for that $8 per shoe! Ah son, I never said I wanted a shoe shine. Since the shine looks very nice you may have the $4 I have in my wallet. Sounds like a better deal than the $0 I owe you. He took the $4. My shoes still look great.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Last week before my coworker went on vacation she mentioned she had some errands to run before the cruise. I remember when I was a teenage boy and jonesed on the idea of hearing what women say to each other. I no longer want to hear it since I work in the locker room of ladies with no shame. They have discussed popping each other's zits, their cycles (in detail), women's condoms, and perhaps the point of this; their lady land.

The eve of the trip came and well we were all given the count down for that and her waxing trip. Again, this is a collection of areas I don't ever want to hear or think about. I can say there is some censorship about that request but the worse point was the detail of the waxing person being too hands on for the waxing (again sure wished I'd want to hear that). She then mentioned that there was an ointment applied to more or less be afterwax. (It gets more gross- caution)

My coworkers were being nice at times with the censorship of their; areas, That being said I now have to make a request to never be able to smell their business. I advised her that indeed from ten feet away I could still smell her new aroma which mixed lavender with aging V. Somehow with just the air vents in the building standing down wind made me dry heave. Just imagine the client she visited right after this was done.

I can only hope this is a freak group of way to open V-talk. Someday they'll make some guy sooo lucky and be all his.

That's It! I'm Done.

As I get older I have to admit that I can no longer do what glorious things made being a young guy so great. Knowing that the modern era has made punchlines of fidelity and retirement, I may be able to un-retire from the following, maybe some of you should too.

1. Wearing a baseball hat backwards- like when I was a kid and I saw myself in the mirror sucking my thumb, I realize this has to stop. I look like a jackhole who quotes "Old School" to his coworkers while they rank who they'd nail in the office.

2. Starting my night out after 10:00pm - seriously what is so impressive about this? I have stuff to do tomorrow like mop, take the dog for an extra long walk, and play a video game.

3. Drinking games- If you have a mortgage you need to grow up. Flippy cup or quarters on your granite tops is not going to do anything better than demonstrate you white-knuckled hold on your "prime."

4. Eating a whole frozen pizza - This was child's play for me. In current times my girlfriend apparently wants to eat with me. Odd.

5. D-bag friends - There comes a time where the different groups of your friends may want to hang out. Now having to brace people for how "Greg is Greg. You'll just have to let him be." Not really who wants a tool hanging out making everyone cringe. Not sure if you support a D-bag? It's easy to tell. Are you older than 25, and does he/she act like they are in the sophomore year still? D-bag.


Man alive, I can't wait to install a ceiling fan some day.

Coworkers Say the Darndest Things

It has come to my attention that after working closely again with more women that men, I no longer want to have a daughter. The margin of error is far too wide. I used to think it would be cool to hear what women think...It's not impressive at all.

Today I was needed to lobby for a solid couple minutes before they would cease conversations about their vaginae. Knowing that I may very well have to defend this blog I will leave it at the point that v-talk should only come from my girlfriend or some dropout with daddy issues.

I have heard that if you put a pack of women together they eventually synchronize their cycles and plan global domination. Not so much in the cubes. It's a daily cat fight lotto. Who will make a highly irrational argument that will linger longer than their hummus breath? Who can begin to sabotage the very shine of the plastic professionalism we all banner? We all do. Even I will get in on this action.

Why? Sometimes although it's painful, I sure love kicking the hornets' nest.

Old Timer's Club

The times are a changing. I have for over a week now been injured with some sort of ailment to my neck and left arm. This may have happened from working out or from merely getting older. Nonetheless, I am feeling the message of old man time talking.

I know I am not a senior citizen yet but the fact of how I am working through this injury shows that my soul is not the only thing that is old. Here's a quick quiz to determine if you are no longer young, just young at heart.

1. True or False: You have bought Icy Hot, BenGay or a heating pad before.

2. True or False: You are more interested in brunch specials than the bar specials from the night before.

3. True of False: Kneeling takes a good ten seconds longer as you look for something to brace with.

4. True or False: You have various vitamin bottles not just the multi-vitamins you bought three years ago.

5. True or False: There is typically an inner monologue debating the cause and effect to what you eat.

If you answered true to more than three questions I am certain you are one like myself who has decided to shelve most physical life goals such as slam dunking, bench pressing your weight, and being able to take all the groceries into the house on one trip.

Don't get me wrong, I know I am much more limited to do things. It helps to be completely sedated with denial sometimes.

One more day until I buy Bayer

I have become officially older than I could have ever imagined. Just today I have hit such low levels of adult superiority as buying my first container of "Icy Hot" and a hot pad. My back actually smelled like an episode of Matlock. This is getting out of control.

I suppose I should give the best estimated origin of this injury. I was working out. Yes, I go to the gym. Frankly I don't know why I go to the gym. According to my good friend, once you land a long term relationship who else are you out to impress. Granted he has a legally binded document to endorse his sloth. So, I tweaked my shoulder/back and it has lingered around until now ruining peaceful sleep as I hold spooning ransom.

My brother recommends seeing my doctor but I had to inform him that I feel like I am more of a medical professional than her. Side note: Doctors, when you practice medicine sooo long that you change from a white coat to a gray or other color coat, please actually know medicine. My doc's coat is gray and I feel like she wants me to believe it is some kind of medical karate belt ranking. Gray must be the color coat for delusional.

The past four days I have been on steady Farve cocktails; advils and excedrine back/body. Just the idea that if my grandparents were alive and I could relate to their health makes me sad. Oh, I forgot the kicker. My index finger is numb. Like some sophomoric caveman I gnaw on it until I can feel my own bite. Never have I declared I was moving our society further with my intellect.

I may have become just what I found to be great contradictory concepts. Through my own working out I have become a slower moving and injured person. If I realized this was my fate over a year ago who knows how many video games I could have beaten? I know for sure I could have at least read one book in that time.

"Adults" Only

It has been an awesome ride into adulthood. I remember craving the title of adult for at least a dozen years before I knew what tax returns meant. Growing up wanting to be an adult was to my understanding to be a mature, composed individual that most likely shelved their childhood ambitions.

Do you remember the first time you found out that the word "adult" meant a bit more? What is a nine year old to do when they go to the library and see a section of adult reads only to go on the family vacation and see that the Lion's Den as well provides books. I remember asking my mom, who reads quite a bit, why do adults get even their own bookstore? What's so cool about "adult" books. Thank you Internet for illustrating what mom said in dismissal.

Maybe food network can let us all in on the secret reason for making special promos for food network "nighttime." Oh baby, it's 8:00 in the pm and the kiddos are tucked away. Now we are gonna chop some celery, but this time real naughty! (queue the heavy jazz)

I appreciate the freedom of press and never want it to stop but my final question today is who really buys porn at an airport?

Four Legged Alarm Clock

I am beginning to think that puppies may be the smartest creatures on this planet. I am now into three months of raising a "shephard mix" and it has been nothing but an eye opening process. First off "shephard mix" is kennel jargon for "we have no clue."

This dog of mine is nothing short of genius and mercenary. I have grown up with seven dogs through my childhood and never have the following happened.
My dog ate the wall.
My dog dragged the cat across the floor by its neck. (granted I was raised properly and never had a cat)

So I will explain the name because it drives me nuts on how it gets mispronounced. Bama; such as Alabama Crimson Tide (great football program). This is by no means an homage to Barack Obama (another time to discuss canonizing any politician). When people ask if it is to honor our president I like to let them know she can barely sit on command let alone read a teleprompter.

Here is the insanity. Saturday and Sunday Bama slept finally all night. Monday and Tuesday she wakes up three times barking so loud I can't pretend to be asleep for my girlfriend to handle the dog. How is it this dog seems to know the difference between weekday and weekend?

I think some people say that raising a dog is good training for becoming a parent. I have thought long and hard about that. I can easily say I have moved any tentative parental experience back another ten years at least.

Summer in the City - a 2009 Thank you note

This summer is not over but man has it been educational for me. I would be wrong to not pass this appreciation along.

Thank you,
-Mr. Homeless Man (under the viaduct) for constantly wiping your feces on the wall I pass daily as I go to work. You have redefined "rock bottom" for me.
-"cash for clunker" for making our government sound like something that is for sale on Sunday mornings before the church broadcast.
-street festivals for making sure washed up musicians can entertain people who love to eat off a stick.
-Chicago weather for being so unpredictable we all sound like lame farmers with a harvest that is going bust.
-women in white pants for mainly being hot; to the 60 year olds in denial, this is a fashion statement of a woman that is significantly more attractive. Even if you are going on a boat that day.
- The Cubs for being 45 days ahead of schedule and just buckling now so we can make plans for football season.
-Middle management for keeping MS Excel relevant to non-accountants.
-Michelle Obama for making triceps cool again.
-Bill Clinton for making Bono jealous.
-GM and the housing market for letting my past two major purchases personify financial tragedy.
-iTunes for making a $0.30 increase to the good songs and making me find that Coolio song for $0.69

Corporate Vietnam

I have been told by a few friends that I work for a place that embodies "the office" on NBC. True, we have silly contests with prizes last seen for your kids magazine drive. Yes, we have more internal jargon than a government agency. Where do we really excel? Besides meetings about meeting (get it?) we do have massive micro managed sales events. Costumes are encouraged.

It was just yesterday when I was asked to bubble that up, shortly after being dialed in and bringing it. Now I may not have closed to the point of earning my cup of coffee but it was a banner day for the 61st infantry of the American recession. If the nation was drinking the Kool-aid we are stirring about market progress we could at least get upwards of 10-12 sales on the board.

As we dressed in our favorite movie character dress (we went Breakfast Club- mainly because I got tired of explaining the greatness of Last of the Mohicans), we planned, we called, and we made what is viewed as progress. As we in our cubicles become slowed by the iodized economy it's unfortunate that end the end of the day we get to hang our hat on "maybe."

The beauty of this call blitz was that there were two defining moments. I felt like Red in "Shawshank Redemption" up for parole and explaining what it meant to be rehabilitated. Was my day successful? Of course...denied. Not really...parole granted.

We did get pizza and didn't even need to say pretty please. We did get to play a get to know your coworker a couple weeks before the next swipe of the guillotine. All in all I actually enjoyed yesterday. It was one of a few fun days in the office for this year. I am sure many people are sitting in their office getting drunk of memories of better days. God knows I am wasted.

The Man's Push Up Bra

It has come to my attention that as we all cry for attention in our special way the men of the world have followed the insecure path ladies paved for us. Many years ago we were blessed with the preferred social lie; the push up bra. Now we are as males in no hurry to show knuckle but our equivalent of have a great bust is a great pair of biceps.

There is a trick to fashion to gain the attention of our prey. Tighten it up. I am impressed with how drastically it looked as though we have been working out. Now mind you some may be working out a bit but there is no way we all look like this good. I bought a polo from a department store that is way out of my league in terms of annoying hipsters. I wore the shirt to work on a casual day and was looked at with the face of desire from someone at bar time.

That false sense of security from the under wire or shrunken sleeves really does allow us live to the dream.

Pink, Classy, Sexy, Lunchables

It has come to my attention that in our current economy the generation long push to reuse/recycle has finally taken ground. We no longer discard our shopping bags once we bring home our awesome purchase. As a society we now put dog poop, newspapers, or even our lunches in these bags.

Over the past couple weeks I have noticed the women I work with bringing their lunch in their tiny Victoria Secret bag. Is it a nice lace thong you brought to work Cindy? No sick-o it's my leftover cob from Houlihan's.

I greatly appreciate the double message of bringing your lunch in a panty tote. First off, we know by the size of the bag it's not just your appetite that is bulging. Now I by no means am I desiring anyone to bring their spare panties to work. Secondly, is the bag a reminder not to hook the Tupperware your face like the Belmont Stakes are looming?

Whatever needs to be done to motivate and entice us all, just leave the carrot sticks at home.

Ruffles and Rubbers

When it rains and girls wear those calf high rubber boots... I vomit. No girl looks cute, hot, or intelligent in them. If you are looking to catch a predator, keep sporting them. What I like about them is hearing the rationalization of how stupid they look for actual logical benefit. It's like the UGG has been dethroned.

There can not be a better visual demonstration that mob rule exist such as women's fashion. Currently you can walk outside in the Chicago area and count the women dressed like Harry and Lloyd from "Dumb and Dumber."

I am confused. Is this just a national prank hot women are pulling on gullible women. Ruffles? On the sleeves, collar, and frankly around their other awesome decision, tailbone tat. I can't take anyone serious if it looks like they are a 1970's prom tranny that is on their way to a Calypso Dance Off.

Marriage Material; Structurally Unsound

The news today reports Billy Joel and his third wife are getting a divorce. WTF? How hard is it to love Billy Joel? Live in the Hamptons, drink a bottle of red, a bottle of white, hire a d.d., and erase all evidence of "uptown girl."

This news alarms me more than a guy that looks like Billy can land Christie Brinkley (how can no one marry her either?). Here we have one of the greatest musicians of our time or at least 70's and early 80's and he can't stick the landing. I have heard of people being gluttons for punishment but first of getting married is painful enough, three times to boot. Can you be so twisted that you get off on paying alimony?

Maybe Billy is getting back at all his ex girlfriends that hurt him by dumping these hot women. What may be even more tragic is he genetic handouts were non-musical. God sure had a good chuckle sending out the looks of Billy Joel with the brains of Christy. Their kid is right up their with early Chelsea Clinton as all-time unfortunate looking offspring.

How is Billy able to pick up women that are not hitting menopause or in a high school a capella choir? Can some VS model really still be enamored by someone saying that they "didn't start the fire?" Are women that set with being the one to tame the bull? It looks like anyone now will be able to get their eight seconds.

Hold on tight ladies, prenups are slippery.

Fire v. Fire

My girlfriend lives with me. She moves in officially next month.

When you merge lives together there is an immediate catastrophic reaction. Clean meets messy and everything I knew to be defined was suddenly under review. Based completely on how my closet space has been abducted, I am lead to believe men were not the drivers of the great American land rush.

It took a good four months or so to get my girlfriends shoes to stop hooking up in the night and reproducing like Gremlins. It took me nearly ten months to realize the best way to end any shoe clutter problem in your home and reclaim what was (albeit briefly) yours in the first place. I adopted a puppy.

The key is not a dog but a puppy that will for about five months at least eat anything unless it bites her back. Shoes don't fight back. Four weeks into owning my dog and there are no shoes on the floor and nor is there the traditional work day shrapnel strewn about the house.

I will take the barking and the initial housebreaking. Let's face it, we have to housebreak our spouses too. As of right now the dog has regulated not just the messes but also the clinically obese cat I inherited with my love. It's no trip to the Serengeti but I sure love watching that cat get forced out onto a balcony for hours of privacy.

Even Gang Bangers Hurt in Recession

This is probably an odd thought but I wonder how the gangs are doing right now. The only data that I have is from my best source for gang related news, the graffiti in the public bathrooms. It has come to my attention that frankly the explicitness and over-all degeneration of random names is down. There seems to be no more debates handled while on the thrown and that alarms me.

I have always found the recruitment process for gangs to be hilarious in itself. As I conducted a sit down meeting recently at work I noticed something. A gang sign had been etched into the wall of the stall. Now I work in a rather professional setting. I guess desperate times call for desperate measures. Next time you see someone that looks like they fell out of a J.Crew ad they very well could be a street hooligan.

What is the purpose of tagging a corporate public bathroom anyway? Back off man we own this turf! Not quite the managing partners of this building are not the Kings, Queens or any Jack hole name derived of successful government structure. I don't think that it is much success to say they tagged a vacant bathroom. It's not like I brag every time I am able to toss my clothes in the hamper and no one sees it.

On the other hand it would be pretty comical to see the next white collar crime become hazing in the workplace.

I didn't sink my battleship

It has been a bit too long since I have been on stage and well that's my fault. It's a strange concept to think that when I did more stand up I felt that I was less focused than I am now. Well I will be back on stage a couple times this week.

Now I have said that lie before but frankly too many people are not laughing at what I know will work. Unless I get some new coworkers or family members I need to get out there and do some more performances.

Let's not get crazy here I never have been out 5 nights a week doing open mic work. I like to write out what I feel will laugh and then polish it out in front of often times the "oops we have a comedy show" bar nights.

I can promise you that the show will go on. Maybe not to either of our preferred schedules but I assure you I will embarrass myself and make us all swallow some jagged pride because there is no greater punchline than our own lives.

If you are laughing at yourself someone is so be first to do. No one likes a follower.