Thursday, December 30, 2004

Five for Mike

So that time came. The time for some guys to discuss the top 5 celebs that would rather have open boils on their butt than speak with them. My list is probably similar to the other males out there. Look at it like a meal. There is an appetizer, maybe a soup, vegetable, entre, and of course desert. Let's see how the menu at Mc Longshot looks.

5. Vivica A. Fox
4. Mandy Moore
3. Britney Spears-Federline
2. Heather Locklear
1. Natalie Portman

Now for an appetizer we shall start with a Britney. Nothing too special. Everyone in town has had it and said how good it is. No big commitment either, if you don't like it just send it back. Plus, at this point it's all about how good you look with it in front of you, who cares about the sustanance.

Nothing like a Mandy Moore soup. Almost a meal but not quite. Almost an actress but not quite. Associating with her is a something people do quickly, although warm and healthy still embarrassing to admit that one enjoys.

Heather has to be the vegetable of the group. The woman just refuses to age. I really have nothing more than she has to be good for the mind, body, soul, and reputation.

After Garden State and her Inside the Actor's Studio, I have come to realize Natalie Portman most definitely wants me. If you don't believe me than you're hopped up on something. So, back to this metaphor barrage. Maybe not this is becoming pathetic and trite all too quickly.

I just wanted to say that for some unintelligent reason a friend and I felt is was necessary to list the top five celebs that we would go out with... you know if the Make-A-Wish Foundation started to help out the chronic epidemic of nice guys finishing last.

Tuesday, December 28, 2004

Another Complex is Born

Well, there is no other way to say it. I have a new found complex. Ok, it has been around a while and it has only recently began to surface. I have horrible teeth. They look alright but I know that my English heritage is looming in the waiting room of any dentist's office. In my opinion they are not as white as they should be. There are reasonable tones of white. I don't think by any means I look like I have tootsie roll stuck in my teeth but I prefer to keep it that way.

It has only been five minutes since I put on my first set of whitening strips. I have swallowed my own saliva but twice. The gel is supposedly ok to digest but like anything from the dental industry it comes with the painful aftertaste that only inspires heaving.

I am drooling now. Really I am. This is rather disgusting, actually it's more pathetic. That's not a big concern for me since I am finding entertainment with how far I can lean forward before I spill all over myself. At this time I would like to remind the ladies out there of my bachelorhood. My apparent celebration from the attention after the Second City show must have been premature. Alas, I still have my hopes for one.

Is it supposed to sting? It has this tingling sensation that makes me think this is over the counter novacain. The side effect of this is exponential mucus production. What the box omitted to say was that once side effect of these whitening strips is saliva thick like a spider web. Sure you're grossed out now just wait until day 14 when I look as dreamy as the rest of fancy lads.

What bothers me the most is that for some reason I am afraid to swallow my own saliva. Lesson learned, although personal preference is to spit and rinse this crap out it is more socially acceptable to swallow the saliva.

Just incase you only read that last paragraph, I was talking about teeth whitening strips not being gay.

Sunday, December 26, 2004

T'is the Season for Understanding

Yesterday was the apparent birthday of Jesus Christ and the only time I caught recognition of that was hearing Jesus Christ ____ is a dip shit. I think that it is a special occasion that makes me afraid to die and go to heaven. Going a whole eternity watching other people getting gifts on your birthday would make me a little more selective on who gets into my club.

That being said, the holiday season is a great time for understanding. I now understand the looks from across the room. I understand who I am supposed to hate because they wronged someone else than me. I understand that even though my last living grandma is in the ICU, we all should sit down to our first deep fried turkey. I used to think C'est le vie was french for such is life, I know understand it means "the will is set."

The family gathering is like the main event for the heavy weight boxing title. Everyone gathers round in nice clothing to watch two monkeys swing below the belt. The holidays are supposed to be this swell time for all to ignore their bills, health issues, or cheating slut wives (maybe) and sit pleasantly while the Savings and Loan goes belly up.

Another year passess, I seem to have gotten taller to my distant relatives. However, that is not really true. I just appear that since I have not seen them in ohh, I don't know a year. They are all very nice to me and I love the time we talk. It is very entertaining since I spend half the time trying to remember their spouses' names. It's kind of like in those heist movies when they are unscrambling the entry code. I digress.

Part of my compulsive analysis of myself lies in my bodylanguage. I am always thinking that my face or body is completely contradicting my words. I say that I am interested in hearing more yet I am starting to stretch my leg as it falls asleep. Then there is the children.

I care for children on the holidays like a plate of tuna at a steak house. Alright I get it, you're having sex. No need to rub it in or be a live action abstinance endorsement. I feel bad for the kids because their parents already think I am freakishly tall, what is going on in their heads when I stand near them? "Don't move, he's probably like a T-Rex- if I stay still he won't see me."

I really wish I could get a grip on the holidays. I love my family but it just seems that like TNT, we know drama too. Maybe that's why everyone I know my age is running off and getting married. They want to make their own holiday memories brighter than the generations past. The only catch is that they tend to stick around to critique the first few ones.

Happy Festivus!

Wednesday, December 22, 2004

A Non-Materialistic Wish List

During this holiday season I have decided to focus on the alleged true meaning of the holidays. Ok, Christmas. I really don't celebrate Hanakka or Chuananananakka or Kwanzzzzaaa or Quanza or whatever new fangled affirmative holiday America pretends can revive the economy. Back to me not supporting consumerism. It all comes so clear when you're ass broke that truly God can speak with you, mainly since no one really talks with the less fortunate since they just tend to ramble on.

Anywho, if you would like to be a sport and give a little to someone who can only give back equally with acts of kindness not gift cards, then consider the following wish list.

I wish for:

a Madden Championship (ok that's more on my own)
never to hear another version of The Little Drummer Boy
Jay Leno to say something funny on the Tonight Show
one Cub fan to say "ok maybe not this year"
another clip show on VH1
ESPN to stop trying reality tv shows
Linsay Lohen to stop covering up her freckles, yes I meant freckles
Paris Hilton to be on the next Apprentice
GAP to admit that GAP means Gay And Proud
motown to come back and pimp slap the morons that disgrace R&B
every scientific study to end with "are you scared yet?"
Mayor Daley to tell someone on camera to F#@$ off
Bill Murray to win an Oscar
Zach Braff too
molting to be a side-effect of tanning beds
Clay Aiken to stop wearing Argyle
people to use stereotypes for good (ex. way to save money for the future, that's mighty Jewish of you.)
Michael Stipe to get permanent laryngitus
people to not be surprised by weather
girls under 18 to put some clothes on
the Middle East to calm down so North Korea has a chance to ruin life
me to slam dunk once that's all really

Just a couple things Santa. Sure hope that it's not too short of notice.

Monday, December 20, 2004

Sublimal Messages From MSN

I happen to use hotmail for email because I am that old school. Upon signing out they redirect me to, a slightly more credible source of news. By credible I am comparing it with my other sources of news, VH1 News, BET News, Fox, and of course E! News Live.

Quick tangent. VH1 News is slightly pertinent if you are still waiting for someone to tell you that your horizontal striped sweater in style. BET News is great. The top news story typically goes like "topping our news today, Harlem is still a shit hole, no thanks to white people. In a related story the NHL is still a joke, no thanks to black people." Fox, has Geraldo. E! News live. Finally a news program that can really make housewives appreciate their spectacular life choices.

Back to the message at hand. MSN has each day about six suggested searches that cover such a random spectrum they must be connected. Here are the suggested searches and then I shall try to within six degrees of separation to find their relation to eachother.

Suggested Searches
News: Flu pandemic
Images: Polar bears
Winter solstice
Ice skating
Hybrid cars

With the winter solstice near approaching, all the infected polar bears have made their way down from the melting polar ice caps. These very cola loving bears seem to have an inverse hatred for the ice skating Canucks. After seeing little Dale fall in the Hudson the Yahheydears decide to cut their losses and run to safety in their 17 horse-powered hybrid cars. While grabbing the door handle, papa bear rips the coat and beard off Mrs. Yahheydear. Unable to afford the heat feature in the hybrid the family spins out and eventually dies from the flu pandemic.

Well, that was captivating yesno? They're not all winners folks. If you have been reading for that past couple entries you should know that.

Wednesday, December 15, 2004

Gold, Frankenscence, and French Thongs

Nothing gets the Yule tide spirit in the air like the Victoria's Secret commercials. I find it to of course be better than any Charlie Brown special. They are so attractive and dressed like no other woman I've seen. Then they open their mouths. Heidi says that I should tell her she's sexy. That is something I could work with or most likely never see happen.

I sure wish Tyra Banks would not talk. She is the only large breasted woman who's head is proportional to her cup size. How does she get so much hair? Pretty sure there are some extensions. Which to me extensions are like wearing someone else's underwear.

I suggest that when Victoria's Secret makes another tv commercial, leave Bob Dylan or any other creepy old guys out of them. There are enough obstacles in my way to meeting women and I would appreciate that the image of dissheveled rambling man to be as far away from them as possible.

I would like to continue this more in the morning. ...

Tuesday, December 14, 2004

Before I Rest

You should know that tonight's set went alright, ok pretty good. Then I tried to end on something new, that had me trying to draw a parallel to being a black man and being tall. A free lesson to other comics, if you mess up on a joke that has cultural themes you will be called racist. Which is not as bad as sexist since being sexist alienates the whole gender you probably are trying to impress.

But I digress, and sleep alone.

Sunday, December 12, 2004

I Believe in Bob Vila

Growing up there is this great value for children to believe. Whether Santa, Jesus, Mohommad, there is a lesson that parents want their kids to experience. What if the main reason for religion is that we have faith that in our darkest moment there will be a glimmer of hope? What if our savior doesn't come? Who then do we choose to follow?

From the days on "Home Again with Bob Vila" I have saught for the answers to my questions of improvement. Who was this wonderful man that was renovating New England one colonial villa at a time? Long before the utility vest was made a Gap staple this bearded St. Home Improvement was showing America how to fix that dream house they'll never have.

Children will always have Santa (unless their Jewish and well that's not my fault.). No matter what direction you bow to give thanks, all adults can believe in Bob Vila. A man, amongst infomercial hosts. Or so I thought. "Home Again" is like "Law & Order" in the sense that I could sit down and watch about ten straight hours of programs without reservation.

I was in a conversation about how great Bob Vila is for society and someone called him a fraud. Aww heck no! I said. Say it ain't so Bob! Say it ain't so! We were talking about the one aspect of Bob that makes my nights restless. He seems to survey the work site without the slightest bit of home repair knowledge. His crew is always fielding his elementary inquiries. Once I saw him approach Rowly, his carpenter, that was marking his points on a board to be nailed.

Bob asked him "So, what are you doing there Rowly?" "Well Bob, I am marking the wood so I know where to drive the nail." Bob then shows his true knowledge. "Why do you want to do that?" Frustrated Rowly says "so I don't ruin the minimal supplies we have."

Vila then takes this moment of obvious events as an industrial awakening. He thrives in then covering his tracks by making it seem like he knew that all along. "Exactly. See Rowly has to follow every step since there is no step to be skipped." Moments like that make me amazed that someone that pontificates anally can actually be a spokesperson for a line of tools.

As inept as Bob Vila appears I still believed he was this moronic handyman. That vision was shattered quickly by some ironically pompus know-it-all. Some guy told me that Bob was just an actor. Just an actor? No way. Maybe he was acting to not know as much but certainly he was this icon that SEARS makes him to be.

Much to my chigrin, he is just an actor (I am going on that conversation, I never researched it). Just like when I realized the truth to Santa, my heart imploded. If there was no Santa, I took solace in Bob Vila. If there was no Bob Vila what's next? Is someone going to tell me that Joan Rivers really like to wear skorts from Marshalls? Will we find out that Jerry Springer is a muslim?

Please America, let some dreams live on. If not for me for the children. The children need to dream.

Ask and Ye Shall Recieve

Alright, Max here is you Goddamn drunken blog entry. I'm not even going to proof it. That's how WILD I AM, Nutrag!

Tonight was another quest into the land of sexual futility. I say sexual because romance requires thought and effort. I dabbled in some adult beverages early on and alone. Desperate times call for plus size women or something along that line, I hear.

So my friend Brad said we were to join forces with hot women and well the rest would be best told in a locker room or fraternity house. Somehow those very hot and amazingly straight female softball women heard I was near and chose to not call Brad with there whereabouts. Another knotch in the bedpost only makes me look more rustic.

Ready to accept the cold shower of defeat I took off my shirt. My friend Sarah comes along and tells me that her fiance and her would pick me up to go to a bar, in Bowlingbrook. Within fifteen mintutes I drank more. I like to work the buzz from the moment I get there. Anyway, if none of you have been to the Rodeo drive of trailer trash called Bowlingbrook then let me tell you about it.

I went to this catchy sportsbar in search of miss right. I was flexible with just meeting miss negative std test result. Alas, neither were there. I have seen the bottom of shower sandals cleaner than the people there. Somehow the libido says "dude, what are you kidding me? Not even battery acid would sanitize that." There were some hot mommas there, chances are the sitter would appreciate them bringing back another person- job security.

What amazed me is the courage of the ugly people there. There were multiple obese people with horizontal stripes. HELLO! Did your father take a tumble off the wall before he could tell you about the ramifications of such a fashion? Am I the only one that thinks when obese people where horizontal stripes they look like a croquette ball? (Please send a comment to confirm me being alone or not)

Our waitress was the worse yet. I mean, shit, Denny's would tell her to go elsewhere. She was so bad that I didn't even consider her wanting to make out with me. She was busy dropping it like it was hot infront of the newest GED class.

As always, whenever I get together with my friend Sarah we talk about who from highschool we have seen. This one guy that showed up apparently dated a girl I graduated high school with. What I didn't know was that they split up two weeks prior after three years. Here is how the conversation went.

Me: Oh, so you and Jenny are broken up?
Chach: Yeah, we decided to take some time apart.
Me: Way to go man! Right before the holidays too, that's called a sound financial decision.
Dueche: Actually, I already spent some time shopping for her.
Me: Well that's what they make reciepts for.
Knob: (silently exits)

Whenever you feel down about your life, come to Bowlingbrook. A town so inept they would elect a stray cat as their mayor.

Friday, December 10, 2004

Alright I Get It, Maybe

After signing out to hotmail, msn has a list of some things they suggest you search incase you needed to surf for some clean content at work. The past two days they have suggested structured settlement and steel building. I would love to think I know how they relate. I think it is code for commercial real estate leads to a messy divorce.

Thursday, December 09, 2004

Remixing the Remixes

There is something amazing in the music industry. Linkin Park has joined forces with Jay-Z to make the Mashups cd that apparently we were asking for since the two made it. I really appreciate Linkoln Park's talents and moxy to release the same album three times over and still manage to go platinum each time.

I understand that without their musical genius I probably would never drink Mountain Dew or even watch a minute of the X Games. Who would have thought they would collaborate with Jay-Z? I mean he was supposedly retiring from this rap game still on top, blah blah blah. Some people never change until you wave some money infront of them.

Another theory on why the styles work well together is that Jay mentions in his song "encore" that he had to dumb down his lyrics for his fans to enjoy his words. I guess after one leaves the streets, to maintain their cred they must insult the very people that got them out of a food stamp funded life. While Hova is telling his fans that they are no smarter than his own project dwelling thugs, Linkin Park is working the second verse of another song that tells the tales of wrist slitting Eeyors. All in all everyone goes home feeling worthless and to me there is no better way to rock out.


I am going to try and do a brief entry when I wake up. This way my incoherent thoughts can be released before having to prove my worth to my coworkers. So we shall see how well that works out.


I came home from work and took a nap for like an hour and a half. I have this huge fear of being caught sleeping. Whether alone or someone actually witnessing me dozing off, I jump up and try to deny the truth. I looked at the clock and it read something like 8:26. I immediately freaked out thinking I am late for work. Then my mind starts to go. If it's this late why is there no sun? Oh no, not an eclipse during the day. That's a bad sign.

When you don't get regular exercise your heart will race at even just going up some stairs. After five minutes my heart sank back into my chest and I realized that I will never stop being a compulisively analytical dork.

Good Night.

Thursday, December 02, 2004

What is This, Morning Stuff?

It is not even 6:15am and I am awake. I have done more this morning than in the last few days of my retirement. I am such a go getter. I sure hope every morning is this wonderful.

Wednesday, December 01, 2004

The End of an Era

Don't cry for me unemployment, the truth is you just weren't that appealing to women. Isn't that why we do everything anyway? Today I worked five hours. The prospect of this company is great. I had some first day jitters. My biggest insecurity is that I only have one suit, that I got junior year of high school. There are only so many ways to diversify a suit before people realize you've been wearing the same thing the whole time.

Not that there is any strenous work in an office but still, I just feel like I am on one of those bring your kid to work visits. Tomorrow I am off to get some new suits and then tell myself that I can get into shape by the end of the year.

What a summer huh? My early retirement has been nothing more than a blissful misery. There is something to be said about retirement. I never did make it to Florida. I hear it's nice about this time of year. I did catch an episode of Golden Girls and even some Wonder Years. Still don't see what's so hot about Matlock. Unfortunately, I never woke up on time to get the early bird special.

I no longer have my addiction to melodramatic shows like Dawson's Creek. I am going on about seven weeks of not watching any WB programming and consequentially, no more prozac. Although I am still getting the shakes when I go more than eight hours without seeing an episode of Pimp My Ride.

Since I have already experienced retirement at 23, what is there left to live for? Life I suppose. Retirement is similar to being in bed. See how long you can stay in bed, awake. That is how much you'll like retirement.

One thing I will kind of miss is calling people during the work day. I would tell them to hang in there, things will pick up. Or, at least you have a job right? Taking it for what it is worth, many young people like to find themself while backpacking through Europe. That is effective in one manner. If you surround yourself with amazing things, you will want to be as amazing (or close to it).

Perhaps the one thing I am most glad to not experience is the interrogation. Do you have a job yet? Are you looking for a job? Do you know you need a job? WHAT?#@! A job? I have been at a loss now for months trying to figure out what it is exatly I should be doing from 9 to 5 for five days a week. Damn, a job. Thanks for the tip dill hole.


Tuesday, November 30, 2004

My Dear Oprah: (Explicit Content: Beware)

When there is something in your life that is so empowering or entertaining there are no boundaries to obtainging more of that pleasure. The comedic arc of the covenant, Seinfeld Seasons 1-3 is now on dvd. There is much deserved buzz about the release. I find myself going to great limits to find out more about my favorite tv show ever. Even if that means watching Oprah.

First of all, let me tell you that having to watch Oprah interview the cast of Seinfeld was painful on many levels. It was like the day after Christmas break when the annoying kid brought the coolest toy to recess and everyone had to pretend to befriend the kid to get as close as possible to seeing the toy. Never before watching Oprah did I feel like a sellout, or better said a flaming pussy.

If I had to choose Mr. and Mrs. Worst interviewer it would definitely be Carson Daly and Oprah Winfrey. She was so captivating that the cast could be seen trying not to grimmace at the inane questions. This was the first group public appearance for the four since the show. It takes skill to lose the luster of cultural icons. Actually, it takes a pleathera of commercial breaks.

After each question ( I wish I was embellishing) Oprah was exhausted from actually having guests that required her full attention and would pause for commercials. Now I know Oprah is well known for her give aways. Yes, all audience members got a copy of the dvds, but I also believe every audience member got their own commercial break. How else could seven questions turn into an hour show?

The other tragedy was seeing the cast with the wrong make up on. Jason Alexander was so pale that if he did not have that reminants of a hair line, he would have easily looked like Humpty Dumpty. Julia was a bit pale as well but that is ok, since she wants me.

I knew I would be disappointed by the collaboration with Oprah. Of all shows, Oprah. Forget Leno, Letterman, Conan, let's go straight to the heart of America's homemakers. They are the ones that REALLY appreciated the show. It was business. Besides Allen Greenspan, Oprah has probably the next biggest influence on the economy. She could tell people to buy Mein Keimf (probably spelled wrong) and they would make it knock the Divinci Code off the Best Seller list.

Oprah touches everything with this selfish Midas mentality. When you try to make gold look even more lusterous you just end up making it look tacky.

Sunday, November 28, 2004

Affirmative Friendship

I chose to cast friends in my first movie and that went rather well. However, there was a couple instances in which the script called for two large black men. I actually have friends of many ethnicities but only one was muscular. It lead me to feel as though my group of friends was as diverse as the Abercombie staff.

The next logical step was to see if any of my friends had large black man friends. Tragically this turned into a six degrees of diversification. I had a friend who had a friend who's sister's uncle knew of a black guy that delivered the mail, or something like that. Cross cultural relationships are fantastic once they get off the ground. Those first few interactions make us pretend that the notion of a friend of a different ethnicity is the cat's meow.

There are some people that are so clueless with their own identity that they must become a barnacle to another culture. Suddenly befriending a gay or Indian (for example) is as socially gratifying as getting the new mini i-pod. Will there ever come a time where alterior motives of social gain are put aside to actually learn from where someone comes? Never, that's why Homecoming queens are typically cheerleaders.

Times allegedly change but the message of stereotypes are resulute to such change. Why? One, because stereotypes are the characatures of a particular group. Secondly, outsiders don't have the balls to put down the insecurity blanket and speak with not to someone.

I truly feel that affirmative action is equally detrimental to society as politically correctness. On the other hand, some people who normally would not get a chance to excell now are doing so. Should we be doing the same with our personal lives? We would definitely learn more about other cultures. Yet, what I dislike is the focus is on race, not ethnicities. There are many different ethnic groups that are all apart of the human race.

Now don't go out and give your pals the pink slip for the holidays. Actually, that would be a rich concept. Call the people who are just acquaintances and tell them that in the best interest of my unity with the rest of society I am relinquishing our personal association in efforts to develop a further understanding of how to befriend the Asian, Jewish, and the ever so powerful Christian right.

Affirmative friendship. A proposition so absurd I expect it to be apart of the same proposition as punishing neglegeant parents with a time out.

Saturday, November 27, 2004

Keep Hope Alive

Last night was perhaps the greatest demonstration of how men and women can unite for a common cause. It was supposed to be a night with just the guys but my friend Mark just couldn't say no to his girlfriend Monica. Much to my surprise this was a good thing in the long run.

Far to often someone's girlfriend comes out and single handedly ruins the night. Not Monica. Her goal, brought on by herself mind you, was to see how may girls she could get to make out with me. GENIUS! All I had to do was sit there and let the women come to me.

Within minutes of hitting the lottery of lust jackpot, I welcomed the first installment of a blonde duo with an most appreciated balance of sympathy and clevage. In all fairness, the original storyline being used was that I was getting married the next day and needed some good luck kisses. Here's the catch, no one kisses an engaged guy on the lips. No one but skanks.

Thus, the strategy was altered, for the better. Instead of being engaged, I suddenly became a guy who's fiance left him two days before Thanksgiving to become a lesbian and I was just in denial. Editor's note: fidelity sells in a Barnes and Nobel, pity will always triumph over fidelity in a bar. Much to my delight, once word spread of my romantic tragedy I was given kisses and a jager shot by the waitress. That alone deserves applause.

Monica would not rest there, mainly since I dared her to get ten girls to kiss me. Enter Erin. She was an undergrad at Eastern Illinois. After putting out my cigar, she turned me toward her and told me to how sorry she was about my lesbian ex-fiance. She then grabbed me planted a few dead on and had some more words. Failing to get her to stay she had one more parting gift to make sure I would love again. Erin pulled my face into her clevage and proceeded to shake. A few more kisses and she was gone. To where. I may never know, but we'll always have Malibu.

While in Malibu, I was on fire. Even when I busted out the Spanish the hispanic buslady was digging me. (I am pretty sure I shouldn't brag about that) Malibu was attached to another bar with allegations that even hotter girls were there.

Rumors were true. We tried the same plan and it failed flat out. Women will take shame on you if you are sitting but if you are trying to get sympathy while on the dance floor well Charlie, you are R-O, RONG. I went from kisses to "what's wrong with you?!" "Uhh, nothing I'm fine. Just because I need a 5'4" asain to get me some girls, there's something wrong with me?" "If you are about to judge me, then let me tell you what is your actual pant size.

Somehow I found myself grinding inbetween two attractive girls. It was almost working. Then Brian walked by. My friend went to school with one of the girls, Galena. To make matters more embarrassing, I already tried to pick Galena up four years ago. Just incase you're swift like Columbo, I should tell you it didn't pan out. So I had no choice but to pretend I knew it was her and act like I wasn't trying to pick her up. She saw threw me, again.

Dance clubs will always be a great way to laugh at myself, and consider the honor of involuntary celebacy. Being engaged before my fiance made me a victim of homosexual curiosity can certainly help me meet Mrs. Right-Place, Right-Morals, or even Mrs. Right-there.

Thanks Monica for all your help. I am pretty sure this anecdote insures perpetual bachelorhood.

Wednesday, November 24, 2004

Extra Helping of Misunderstanding

Throughout the past five months or so I have gone through some definite highs and lows. None as high nor as low as in the past 36 hours. I was told that there was a company ready to give me a job offer. Excuse me, career offer. Anyway, I then found out that there was a former employer that would not give the professional reference that they promised to give. I didn't even have to go through a divorce to get screwed by a lawyer.

Definitely one should realize that what goes up will eventually come down (due to resting on laurels). For every wonderful girl I meet there is a captivating schmuck with her. The holiday season can really strain the personal life. There is one way to know if a relationship is right for you. If you can actually say that a romantic relationship is not a financially sound endevour then there is a reason why your bookmarks are or (I don't know if those exist but wouldn't doubt it.)


So what will it be this winter? The fudge or love? Too much of either will cause your friends to mock you without mercy. My dilemma during the holidays is the food. I am a momma's boy no doubt. I love my mom's cooking. I eat other people's cooking but really prefer my mom's. I fear that although my words are complimentary, my facial expression is that of a person that swallowed Draino.

I wonder if the early settlers called there leftovers casseroles. The refridgeration process was definitely lacking and that alone makes me believe gravy was not an intentional turn of events. I wish I could have been there when the pilgrims and native americans were eating together. It would have been like the first time the in-laws meet. No one at the table wants to talk about the obviuos merging of cultures. Uncomfortable small talk about what they do fills the air. "So, Runs like a duck, do you just have something against pants?"

There is no way they could have even understood eachother. It's not like prior to getting on the Mayflower the pilgrims took Cheerokee as a second language classes. Who was there to teach the native americans to speak English? Oh, I forgot. Mr. Musket was the instructor.

I bet the idea of the children's table can be traced all the way back to the first Thanksgiving. If I was on a boat for weeks with some bratty fancy lads under ten I would build the table myself. Supposedly there was eel at the first Thanksgiving. That should anwer any questions to why of all cultures there is not a native american cuisine restraunt. Maybe if they deep fried that up it would go great with that tasty Austrailian dipping sauce for the bloomin' onion.

Monday, November 22, 2004

That's a Wrap

So over the weekend it all started. My first movie is in the can and I am now preparing the editing studio to wrap it up in a precious bow. Granted I am the editing studio, but nonetheless it will be glorious. There were many issues averted and created during the shoot. All in all, I am absolutely proud of all involved.

My quest for two black men was satisfied the day before with a casting call I placed online. They then did not show. Realizing the necesity for the comedic relationship for one character, I substituted the two black men for a relationship between a young woman and an older woman. Nothing like an odd lesbian connection. There are plenty of laughs that will be probably started with "what the ..."

I never knew how many sexual innuendos were going to ensue from the body language. There was a scene where I am trying to pick up a girl that is tripping on x and she then chokes on a glow stick. Never would I have imagined the heimlich to be so provacative. The girl was one of my best friend's girlfriend to boot. "It was acting dude." He found the humor, I hope.

The big lessons of the night were 1. no alcohol before wrapping 2. 2:00pm sharp apparently means come when you are done beating Halo 2.

The editing will be dealt with in a swift manner, and of course a screening party will be in the works.

Friday, November 19, 2004

Ladies, There is Plenty of Mike to Go Around...

Too many times I have heard women say that a guy with a sense of humor is highly desired.

Come prove that line of BS true.

Improv Show Tonight.

11415 S. Beacon
Orland Park
$5 at the door

Two hours later you'll be happy with your decision and maybe even meet a young comedian. As the signs at busy intersections say... Dating Over 40? Bring your daughter.


There comes a point when a momentous occassion arises that we are inclined to give a catchy name to remember it for more than three minutes. Typically, when something hits the fan we have to go to the modern day cluster fu#$ called Watergate. Now, as elated as I am that our society can recall something from that era besides Vietnam, we really should let crooked presidents die.

Watergate was a hotel to my understanding. The novelty of any noun + Gate = great joke is a bit played. We have Ashley Gate, Florida Gate, and soon to be Condy Gate. I get it. Ok? Someone else really f'd up. I wonder if there was anything good that happened to Nixon. He is remembered saying "I am not a crook." He is drawn as a man that while alive was melting in front of our very eyes. The best thing that happened to Nixon was Clinton.

As a society we need to update our records. There has to be someone out there to take the jabs as our generations inept diviant leader who refuses to learn from past mistakes. Who could be that person? R. Kelly? Tara Reid? Ben Affleck? Dick Cheney?

I certainly dread the blissful moment where one of those yahoos graciously falls on the grenade. However, I am sure US weekly will have a great photo spread.

Wednesday, November 17, 2004

Self-Diagnosed Scatterbrain

Life this week has been exactly as unexpected as I should have seen. There is a law in physics, Newton's 2nd law I believe. It states that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Now I left my job in May with plenty of money to sustain a sabatical from profit. Now in November, I am seven days from turning tricks that I am very sure will not recoup the expenses alone.

I am pleased to say that I am making my first movie this weekend. With a cast and crew of truly amazing people that I have befriended since returning to Chicagoland we have begun the foundation of some greatly scary prospects. Many of the actors come from the Second City curriculum that I am apart. I look forward to getting this movie Last Night, to the can asap and sent out to four film/comedy fests by December 15. There are about a half dozen more that I intend on entering.

Needless to say I am not planning on pigeon holing myself to just film. Besides the improv at SC, I am hoping to get a cable access show with a montly episode. Finally, something to watch on the Woodridge channel.

Sidenote: There was a comment made from a Mary on the blog for "Just Maybe." Dear Mary, which Mary are you? I can only think of one and would appreciate it if you left your email for me to contact you.


I had two inteviews today and the first one was not necessarily the best. This time it was not my fault. When I got there they didn't know that I was coming. Plus the office manager that was supposed to interview me was at Iowa St. giving a lecture on sales. Nothing like a swim upstream with two people who clearly had better things to do than speak with me.

I am confident that I wooed them. Actually, I don't know, nor am I sure if I will be able to know. I say that only because Whitney Houston's "how will I know" is on the itunes. By the way I should mention to readers that do not know me personally. I am straight. I just think every genre of music has it's beauty, even flamboyant music.


Incase you have not gone to a comedy open mic in a while, go. You will be impressed. Some comics are actually very good. Some of us on the other hand are not as consistant infront of the crowd. Right now my two preferred comics to listen to are Josh Chaney (not sure on the spelling) and Kumail (fyi-not an Irish comic).


I was saddened by the change in format of Windy 100.3 fm to become LUV radio. Fortunately, 99.9 fm the power of 9 (way to go Marketing team!) came to save the day. Their slogan nothing but a cry for attention. "...we'll play that." They play anything and mean it. The station went from "Werewolves of London" to "Bloulevard of Broken Dreams." Which is a great practice to follow- as long as it is good, it gets played.

Friday, November 12, 2004

Die Another Day

The other day there was a news teaser on the radio for a medical study. The whole thing was introduced as "you've heard of eating less to lose wait. What about eating less to live longer. Tune into the nightly news with Tom Brokaw to see if this diet is best for you. Not everyone should follow this diet."

Finally. It took evidence from a medical team to give the US government the go ahead to say that not everyone deserves to live longer. That means you elderly. Uncle Sam is coming after you and your precious social security.


Eddy Curry wants out of Chicago. He is tired of being blamed for the loosing and well, more loosing. Good idea Eddy, make sure to blame the fans too. I agree that the only way to improve Eddy Curry and Tyson Chandler is to get rid of them.


Yesterday blew on multiple levels. Possibly the worst interview ever. Just a heads up for anyone trying to get into sales. To prep for your interview, practice selling random objects from a 7th grader's backpack. The alleged businessman asked me if I could sell something I am familiar with. I said yes. He then told me to sell a papermate pen to him. Judging by the teeth marks I assumed he was quite attached to this style of pen and would be a sure thing. No.

There is so much more to the story but it will be best composed and performed at Crush on Monday night. See you there.

Monday, November 08, 2004

Just Maybe

A truth pillars
with marbled decadence
edged in green anticipation
an essay of passion
permiated by the delicate brushup
pounding hesitation, a vaccuumed exhale
all succumbed by a glance of
just maybe
falling face forward
high gloss satin expectations
bottom out as they top all
preconcieved notions
four students of the moment
are swallowed with blankets of
rebelling innocence
the cheating student reveals and
revels in the sight of
an angel
words don't justify
the thoughts of the heart like
living the moment
or maybe they do
just maybe.

Saturday, November 06, 2004

_a_gm_n is My Anti-Drug

Besides alcohol, I have not partaken in any recreational narcotics. There are a number of reasons why I think that staying drug free is best for me. Not everyone falls into these catagories but I really think we are all one line or rock away from really understanding what Rob Lowe went through. I found the following inspire me to be drug-free.

1. Spelling. On average four or five times a week I question the spelling on words that I knew how to spell since I wore shoes with laces. Now, I spell these words correctly but I then begin to wonder if I mispelled the word. Recently I stared at the word horseshoe for about three minutes. I spelled it right but thought that it looked peculiar. Many people mix the i before e rule up, not many fumble on the o before e rule.

2. Pigment. I am already pale enough that anyother drug will only lead me to believe that my skin will become translucent. I leave that stuff to people like Kate Moss.

3. Led Zepplin. If I start doing drugs I will be have to call them the best band ever or loose my right to keep my shirt unbuttoned all day. Also, I have made it to the age of 23 with only wearing tie die three times in my life, I don't need that number to increase.

4. Funyons and Bit-o-honey. These snack foods are so nasty that even an etheopian would turn them down. These are staples at the top of the addicts food pyramid, of course with Sunny D to wash things down.

5. Rave Girls. Now besides Kate Hudson, never have I seen a beautiful girl with a guy with a chemical dependence. All the girls that do drugs are constantly asking for things like a ride, some money, more drugs, a reason to live, or a defibulator.

6. Showering. I like maintaining a high level of personal hygene. If I got into drugs there is a very good chance that I would be bathing with dryer sheets. Even if I managed to shower, I would prefer to not regain consciencousness when I am licking the tile walls in search of more acid.

7. Career Growth. I know that a lifestyle of drugs can shorten my lifespan with an abrupt death. The thought of dying before I am old enough to watch the reunion show for the OC scares me straight. Plus if I do drugs I can never pursue my political aspirations to become Mayor or President.

Thank you Nancy Regan. If it weren't for you and D.A.R.E. (Drugs Abuse Really Encouraged) I wouldn't be where I am.

Friday, November 05, 2004

A Cornacopia of Disgust

What a wicked web we weave. There is nothing more compelling than the story of a self inflicted drama. Maybe there is something redeemable about the blur between professional and just being human. Most of the controversies one reads about or hears are all manifestations that come from some self righteous glob of immaturity crying "what about me?"

I visited and came across something fantastically disturbing. There is an update on the condition of Yassir Arafat. The link tab reads "Arafat in irreversible coma. SEE VIDEO." Let that marinate in your cerebellum. Ok, ready? I don't care what your beliefs are to this man's political clout, he is in a coma. Why do I need to know what an irreversible coma looks like? I am pretty sure it looks like someone sleeping, but with greiving family and friends around them.

The lack of tact executed by CNN is above and beyond disrespectful. I could maybe see Fox pulling a stunt like this. There is a huge difference between freedom of speech and freedom of the press. One is a pillar of the American value system and the other is riot gear for people seeking revenge from four years of wedgies in the locker room.

It's a coma. Although the outlook is grave a coma is as predictable as a pregnant woman's appetite. The manner in which his apparent final moments alive are being documented puts us all in a bird's eye view. Unfortunately, we are not the eagles we claim. In this instance we have become vultures.

The irony of this whole thing is that CNN is reporting Arafat is still in the coma. Nothing like the late breaking news coverage on something that has been the same for days. Come to think of it the weather tab said that tomorrow has a 100% chance for the sun to rise.
NBA players, Latrell Sprewell specifically are whining about not having enough money to "put food on the table." I was angry at first time I heard that. Then I realized that besides the NBA, only at Wal-Mart can you find more high school graduates working. My advice to Spre is either get a smaller table to blanket with all the fixin's or simply start using a condom so that your 14 million dollar contract could actually support you and your colony of love children.

With 14 million dollars alone this year he can't get food for his family. It is all about the priorities. The lamborginis aren't really family sedans, but the jumbo pack of Hot Pockets will surely balance things out. I never thought the day would come that a Good Charlotte lyric actually rang true. "Lifestyles of the rich and famous, they're always complaining. " Sprewell is lucky to be employed. Last time I checked, whenever one is caught on film choking a boss they aren't offered a second chance.

I find this all very amusing. Don't you find it hard to keep a straight face while a man complaining for more respect is wearing cornrows? Respect starts at home buddy, and nothing says "I have issues" like a head of cornrows.

Thursday, November 04, 2004

I Make Only 1 Promise

This Saturday 11/6/04 I will be hosting a comedy show at the Cornservatory Theater 4210 N. Lincoln downtown. $10 to get in, 10:00pm start time. I promise to be slightly funnier than a funeral.

See you there if you can.

Wednesday, November 03, 2004

Return of the Jebi

I stayed up last night until after midnight to watch the American tragedy. President Cheney and his sidekick are most likely going to be in office for another four blissful years. I wish them well and hope that their foreign policy is more tactful than the Risk game they have been playing thus far. I could be the bitter loser hear and jab at the Republicans but I must tip my hat to Republicans because they got the votes.

The born again Christians put Bush over the top in many states. Meanwhile the Dumbacratic party counted on the wave of first time voters and people under 25. Maybe if the voting polls were to coincide with the TRL countdown Kerry would have won in a landslide. To say that your secret weapon is a generation of people who's last vote was for Cindy to be prom queen is as bad an idea as a Dukakis photo op.

During the broadcast there were the exit poll statistics that I feel are as believable as a woman telling her dress size. Those stats were a funnel of percentages that only distracted the audience from the fact that there was no new information to tell. So of the 25% of Protestants that own minivans and two dogs, an overwhelming 72% voted for Bush. Of the 72% of the Protestant minivan driving dual dog owners, amazingly 47% had velcro shoes on. When someone gives a statistic I initially don't believe them because it is just like when a friend says they have a new girlfriend or boyfriend and all you can say is "alright" yet all you can think is "I'll believe it when I see it."

The only shining moment was when Barack Obama won and then just about the rest of the Senate went Republican. I really like this guy and look forward to seeing what he will do in the coming years. This was his first big election and he was such a favorite that long time hopefuls needed his endorsement to win. He's kind of like Ben Roethlesburger, except well, not a football player.

I am still frustrated. There is this whole new hybrid of disappointment and fear that has been planted last night. I am not talking about Bush's next term (fearing the inevitable is just pointless). I looked at the Democratic Party to see who was left. In four years from now the Congress and House will probably still be in the GOP and we will still be in Iraq and we will still be color coding our holidays and vacation spots. However, the worse thing I can imagine is that the sour puss that sold out her roots to move and be a NY senator will run in 2008.

The worse part about Kerry losing is that Hillary Clinton will be running for president even sooner. There is only one way to ensure Republican tenure for years like having this woman try and take charge. I have no problem to a woman president, because I know it won't happen until I am either dead or waking up only for pills and Matlock. There is no way to discourage her either because some genius had to say if you can make it in NY then you can make it anywhere.

There is always a silver lining to be found about a given situation. Perhaps the silver lining about this election is that I have learned that I should stop making new friends that are under 25, unless they have recently found Jesus- again.

Monday, November 01, 2004

So There's This Girl...

and she's a freaking moron.

For the past three haircuts I have gone to the Haircuttery. Another personal hygene secret released from the vault. Regardless, there is this young girl who embodies the sister of Daria. I never could hear her voice since I would be across the room, but today she went ahead and cut my hair.

I used to think she was rather attractive, and then she opened her mouth. Just about every fifth word was given the suffix -uh. I wouldn't have noticed so quickly if she weren't carrying on a conversation with the rest of the staff while trimming around my ears.

I am also convinced that no matter how I describe my desired hair style, the stylist will make sure I leave looking like a douche bag. She asked if I want my hair to be styled "natural." Fearing a combover, I said yes and then she proceeded to slick my hair back like I was either my grandpa or Pat Riley.

This girl is something special. That's why she earned the $2 tip.

My Near Death Experience

It doesn't take a pyschologist to understand the difficulities I am having in my life. Whether personal or professional things seem to be at a lackluster (at best) status. Well, today and from here on out I will make sure to walk the path to righteousness or something along those lines. See at about 11:30 today I almost died.

This is all too embarrassing really. First, I got out of bed at 9:00am to quickly turn on Dawson's Creek on TBS. It was in the middle of some tiresome argument between Joey and Pacey that I realized I was obsessed with the nostalgia factor of life that did not deserve a moments time to rekindle. I then began to eat lunch. For the second meal in a row I ate a frozen pizza. Cute to some, I really think mozzarella is my cocaine. Upon eating a slice I learned the hard way that there was a loose shard of crust. It then got lodged into God knows where and I began to panic.

Not being able to breathe I thought of the worse case scenario. Death. How horrible would it be for my family to walk into my room with my face down in a pepperoni pizza with most likely Saved By the Bell on tv and my perpetual job search present on the computer screen? While hacking and hoping I began to negotiate with God. I took the whole choking on something typically delicious as a way that God saying "best you recognize."

After recognizing, I returned to my bed to eat some more pizza. Proving that no matter how severe a pain is dealt, as long as there is a facit that could maybe bring us some joy we'll risk it. I am going to try and go cold turkey on pizza and other such detrimental activities which may even be drinking. It took me eighteen hours to really recover from a few glasses of Spooky Punch. I don't know what is more lame the name Spooky Punch or the fact that I can't handle it.

I guess my writing this declaration one ups the stakes we all set for ourselves. If you write a goal down there is a significantly larger success rate than just saying what you want to do. So here I go. I will be genuine to all my pursuits ahead of me. Winning will be great but I can deal with the solace of being the lovable loser.

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.

Thursday, September 30, 2004

Walken a Mile in His Boots

Everyday I am working on my voices and impressions that I can and can not do well. While typing yesterday's blog I was listening to some music. Nancy's Sinatra's "These boots are made for walkin' " came on. I could not help but imagine if Christopher Walken was in a shoe store and that song came on the PA. He would bend over and pick up a pair of boots, turn to the clerk and say - These, BOOTS are made, for WALKEN! I am, Christopher WALKEN. That's, just what, THESE boots will DO. One, of THESE DAYS, these BOOTS will, walk, all OVER YOU.

That really made my day yesterday and I thought I would share that. Yesterday was the first time I really tried to do a Walken, it was rough to say the least but I was able to amuse myself. I then turned Conan on and Walken was visiting. Sean Connery knows the novelty of his voice. Christopher is learning quickly too.

He was supposed to promote his new movie. He is the king of anecdotal tangents.

Conan: I hear you want to be called Chris Walken?
Walken: I SAW, my name, on the screen and it LOOKED, so long. It looked, like a TRAIN.
Conan: Alright, Chris. Chris Walken that sounds pretty good.
Walken: Try and say Christopher.
Conan: Christopher
Walken: guzenheight!
Conan: What?
Walken: Say it a gain.
Conan: Christopher.
Walken: guzenheight!
Conan: What?!
Walken: Christopher sounds like you'RE sneezing.
Conan: No. No it doesn't.
Conan: I hear you like to cook.
Walken: I like FRUIT.
Conan: Ok, how do you tell if it is ripe.
Walken: I like, avacado.
Conan: Do you eat a lot of avacado?
Walken: I've got no GRIPES with the man, that SELLS the, fruit. It's NOT, his fault.
Conan: So how do you pick ripe food?
Walken: I was on an AIRPLANE. I sat next to a DOCTOR, and asked HIM, how can you tell, if someone is sick? He SAID, it is just LIKE, picking fruit. Grab and squeeze, and you CAN tell.
Conan: You are one of my favorite people to talk to.

I love Christopher "guzenheight" Walken.

Wednesday, September 29, 2004

Rules of Working in Retail

Last night I partook in the first phase of my orientation at a retail store that best suits the budget of a college student. No matter which one you guess, I'm sure you'll be on Target. Get it?! HA! Anyway the cookie fun time has just begun. I am convinced that the majority of retail employees have been cheerleaders at one point in their life. Store meetings are just like pep rallies. Both hand out stale tootsie rolls.

Here are some rules of retail.

1. The "R" in retail stands for redundancy.
This fine opperation has a renovation going on. A full frontal renovation. Every single part of the store is being altered. Three different people spoke to us new staff and all had to mention "we are going through a remodeling. If you didn't notice." If I didn't notice? Stevie Wonder could have noticed all the contruction. Hey but I guess my intelligence is a mirror image of my wage, so can you tell me once again what is being remodeled?

2. Sexual Harrassment, bad?!
With all do respect, the video of how not to behave is hard to watch. Fortunately I was not the first to laugh at it. Myself and two other people without the hanger in their shirt found it beyond salvageable. My question is this. If it is not permitted to ask personal questions about coworkers, how do you learn about what interests them? If you only see them at work how can you create an out of work relationship? Prohibiting sexual harrassment in the workplace only breeds stalkers, and we know how that turns out. So please, go ahead and speak your mind. The cold shower is better than the restraining order.

3. Retail has its own language.
Instead of actually just working hard on the task at hand, retail spends countless hours on cute obnoxious names for terms we all accepted. For instance; normal word- customer. retail word- guest. That word is the farthest from the truth. Last time I had a guest over and they wanted a drink I didn't charge them and then give them a ten question suvery on my service. Why is it businesses are afraid to admit they are in business?

4. Hard work yields small dividends.
During the eight reference to the renovation, the girl mentioned that it was 75% complete and the store was going to celebrate the accomplishment (nothing like a premature celebration). She said that for all the hard work, pizza will ordered. DANG! Man I have not had pizza since like, lunch. Now, that I had two pieces of the yummy grease ball called Pizza Hut I will bust my tail for another 40 hours. What? I also get a fun sized Snicker? Aww heck, you are the coolest manager. Hey, do you need your car washed? I can do it on my fifteen minute break.

What I learned last night was that we are all a team. A team that gets treated differently on an individual basis. I also learned that retail is so exciting and comprehensive that orientation had to be split into two nights to prevent the newbies from spontaneously breaking into work. If anywhere in the world, a musical were to randomly occur it would be in a retail store.

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

Trust Me I'm a Professional

Many things can go wrong during a day. It is not how we get into the tough situations but how we get out of them that makes us different. Well, recently there have been some mishaps on the homefront. The biggest being the internet connection. There are two things necessary to know about my family. 1. My family has the largest hesitation to engage in new technology (it was the late 90's when we got our first microwave). 2. If someone else in my family does something, even once, they are a professional at it.

Take the computer. In the spring I bought my own Mac. I still am learning the ways of the Mac. Upon moving home my family decided to get rid of the dial up and go dsl. So, who has to set it up? Why yours truly. For if my mom and step dad were to install it I would hear about seven new swear words and an unending monologue on the wonders of the typewriter.

Installing the software that eventually led to new viruses (thanks sbc) was not much of a problem. Contrary to any lame comic (note irony) I followed the directions and only had to call the help line four times. Tangent time: I don't believe that any of the answers I give to the Knight Rider voice screening the call actually are filtered to proper personel. No matter which way I answer my problem will be outsourced to the land of curry... And we're back.

Eventually things get up and running and I think I can enjoy my efforts. Nope. Why? Well, first whenever someone else has a computer problem my mom volunteers me to not only help, but solve any problem. When people ask if I am good with computers she replies with "yeah, he has his own."

Plus, my family insists on asking more questions like "is that normal?", "so can I have ANY email address?" or "what is that flashing light?" I answer each question with as much general knowledge as possible until someone follows up with another technical question. There comes a point where the blind man leading eventually says to his companions, "look, I don't have a clue to what is going on."

When I told my family that I although I knew plenty of computer information, I did not have all the answers. Formerly elated, they wear the expression that asks "then what did you learn at college?" I confessed. I am not the computer savy guy that exists in office labrythns across the nation. I am not the IT guy that comes over and asks you what went wrong using only acronyms. I am Mike, the home office IT guy, I field the questions that impare people from even making it into the aforementioned office maze. Questions like; how do I turn this on? where is the paper? or is it ok to log out now?

Things like that make me the resiliant homeland computer savant. I take great pride in how my limited knowledge/ignorance is strangley liberating.

Monday, September 27, 2004

Do You Take This Empty Chair? To Have and to Hold...

As I have mentioned before, there are a boatload of friends getting married in the coming year. This Friday starts the four weddings in which I will be attending. It is the only one of the four that I am not standing up in. I am trying to figure out who will die in the next year to complete the four weddings and a funeral theme. Best of luck to everyone on avoiding that.

The response to a wedding invite is becoming as difficult as writing out the congratulatory check. Will you attend? With a guest? See, one of my set backs is that I am a recovering momma's boy. I listened to my mom with her unconditional wisdom. She told me to mark that I would bring a guest. Even at that moment I had no girlfriend let alone any prospects.

This is going to be a minor issue when at the reception when I am greeted by the couple and they ask where my date is and I have to say something came up. The bright side is that I plan on going hungry to the reception and eating two entres. There is no sense in letting things go to waste. Plus I think I ordered the chicken.

The wonder and joy of the wedding reception lies within the various conversations at all the tables. No matter who is seated together, they will all critique the hell out of the most randomly frivolous detail. Meanwhile those same women are wearing so many sequins that the dj shines the spotlight on them. Elderly people will be in full effect; ounces of chanel, smeared make up, and of course questions. When are you going to meet someone and settle down? The day you stop wearing smelling salts as perfume I will reconsider my views on marriage. I remember when you were only as tall as my knee. Well, I guess the fact you remember is reason to celebrate.

Sure enough there will be the following on Friday, Long Island Ice Teas, old people "not getting" rap music, ugly dresses, blind date set ups, the electric slide, my mom telling me to stop drinking after I start to smile freely, and an ever so classy scuffle for the boquette.