Up in the Rafters

This past Saturday I retired something very sacred. Upon the completion of the night I will never wear the Scooby-Doo costume again*. (Unless well I take it to say a D3 soccer game in WI for old time's sake). It was a magical night, I finally conned some friends to dress as the whole Scooby-Doo gang. The whole gang was there. Sweet.

Now there is something to be said for a 6'5" person adding another 6" in costume. For those that are unaware let me walk you through the moment. First off I was last to dress as all I needed was to dress slowly to avoid further tears on the seams. On with no problem. Then I go to zip up and my lankiness stretched the fabric taught and it popped the whole zipper off. The actual silver part! After immediate running to women to sew it up I fixed it on my own. Resourceful- I know.

I wear shorts over the costume for the inseam was meant for someone that maybe is 6'. Snugness is something you want in a sleeping bag not a contouring costume. To avoid any Scooby knuckle I put mesh shorts on with a hole cut for the tail. What is more interesting about these shorts is that I inadvertantly wore them once when I went for a run at the gym. To add insult this was the one time I had to use a treadmill in the front line.

Back to the party where I was ready to rock out to a cover band for the third time. Yes, I have now seen the same coverband three times in the same year. I don't know what is more sad, that fact or the fact that I plan on seeing them at least once more because frankly this band is so good. I dread that the band thinks my friend and I are gay for the band. They just have a good set list, minus the Styx.

So there was a handful of skanky schoolgirl outfits. And just like my Catholic highschool, none spoke to me. That's fine I am sure they have herpes or something like that. There was one trick that chose to dance for the crowd and when her pelvic thrust was in play you got the frontal skibby view. Tragically she was a black widow, the kind that do you and then probably rip your head off after.

I saw an older gal there looking at me about five different times. No lie. Just misconception. She was making eyes at her even older man that took her to the show. I am an idiot. If I am going to be a gigalo I really need to realize that demographic starts at 40. Even mid thirty year old women cling to their party past tough enough to really control the situation. I tend to get into the girl that looks past me too often, which makes for great comic viewing as long as you're not me.

Maybe beer tub girls are really lonely. These may be the girls for me. Working girl, hot, likes to coax money from me by calling me sweetie and complimenting me in ways that are clearly impacted by lighting. My friend thinks that every guy in the room hits on the girls. I think too many guys think that. If I ever near another relationship I certainly hope that it is with a very attractive girl like that so I can ask her all about the power of the ass pant.

Those are amazing aren't they? Just proves that keeping it simple says nothing about the limitations to the imagination.

Scent of a Woman

I am lead to believe that women are my kryptonite. However, I may as well be wrong. It may be the perfumes and body splashes that render me financially and romantically helpless. The thing is that most perfumes do a good job and smell exactly how you think that woman should. Of course I am completely ignoring anything Elizabeth Taylor has made that is grannywear.

There are certain moments that I am sure you ladies are aware of. One is the walk by. You saunder by and ooze sexy and confidence we see that. Then like a smack up the head for staring too long your scent lingers to us. To me the name of your perfume is how you would like to be treated or what is important to you. Heaven, Angel, Sweet, White Diamonds, No. 5.

As wonderful as many of the women in this society have been trained in their scent etiquette there are a few rank skanks that stick out. When a guy comes off as clueless all we need is to zip up the fly. Someone needs to intervene with the women that smell like they should be at bingo.

I walked into an elevator the other day and I was jumped with the horrific oder of some women's spray. It was so bad I was almost hoping for some guy to fart in there. Almost. When something like that is so pungant I would certainly hope you could realize that you are in too deep. Please tone down the perfume, unless you are needing that level of cover-up then please see a doctor or shower. I feel short changed if I am getting a headache from you and I have yet to hear you speak.

All Fired Up (Not all Cubs Fans Just This One)

Never before have I directly responded to a comment. But this dumb pompous nameless chump signed my last entry about the best Chicago baseball team, not by bear sales, not by ticket sales, not by sorority members in the stands, nor by number of professional players that blame a fan for choking on the verge of greatness.

This will charge me up real easy. Here are the comments of this one cry baby that is probably frustrated that next year always is a year away.

"For all the above reasons stated in this blog I will forever remain a Cubs fan. Nothing written in the above even comes close to swaying me from my loyalities to the North Side." -None of us want a bandwagon hopper. However, once you realize the sinking ship your on, just say the magic words and the Cardinals will still be better than you.

The following 10 reasons make my convictions in support of the Cubs stronger, but this list is not meant to be exhaustive:

"1. My parents raised me correctly. " - Stupidity is genetic, anyone who can read knows that.

"2. My grandparents raised my parents correctly." - Chances are like the Cubs, your grandparents are at home confused on how they are there and not where they should be.

"3. I do not find women who could physically hurt me attractive." - You're a Cubs fan. We know you're a pussy. Anyone can beat you up.

"4. The mayor might be a no nonsense kind of guy, but the tax base of the greatest city in the world which allows him to be said guy live, work and play on the north side. " - That's white people you are talking about. Thanks for confirming how little respect "upper-class" gives minorities.

"5. Taking your life into your own hands to see a baseball game is not my style of fun. Even the police get hazard pay to go to the South Side." - Ok, there were more rapes in the past couple years on the NORTH SIDE. So put down the J.Crew catalog and read a goddamn paper.

"6. Blue collar and white collar fans (i.e. Bill Murray, Tobi Keith, God) cheer for the Cubs, while trailer-park trash (i.e. Kid Rock, Paris Hilton) cheer for the White Sox." - Bill is the only fan I would like to be with us. Any reference of Toby Keith makes you and your team more ignorant, right wing sensationalist, dueche bags. I could write all about how Toby is the downfall of all things civilized and self-respecting but I know to save that for a later time. God, God. Really God?! God is a Cubs fan? God loves sinners when they show remorse; not blame fans sitting out of bounds. If God is a Cubs fan then Wrigley is the purgatory that will never end in satisfaction.

"7. All of the Cubs players at least speak english. Most of the Sox fans don't speak any identifiable language at all." - Those are actual baseball terms and strategies. See we watch the games, not the collection of MILFs splurging on alimony.

"8. To be a Cubs fan you at least need an understanding of the game of baseball. Sox fans are still learning how to use rudimentary tools." - Chances are your house was built by a Sox fan, and chances are your interior decorations were planned by a Cubs fan. Side note. The true test is to ask a "Cubs Fan" to name 5 players on the team. I can't count the number of fans that could barely name 4.

"9. Cubs fans sell out Wrigley Field everyday and support their team through thick and thin. Sox fans can lay dormant for decades like cicadas or herpes." - Yes, Wrigley sells out. It's a beer garden. There is a saying about Sox ticket sales. Do you know why so few people go to Sox games? They're at work. A herpes reference from a Cubs fan? Seriously, to fit in I might as well do a gang shooting reference. Just remember you are what you eat, or lick.

"10. Cubs fans become laywers, doctors, architects, business leaders and pillars of the community. Soxs fans clean those pillars." - We clean those pillars since we built them. The mayor is THE leader and he is on our side. Being a Cubs fan in all honesty is a social move. It is not a traditional move by most in their life. You are a fan because you were told to be or you were a fan because you were trying to get into someone's pants and ran out of bars on Rush street.

I do think Wrigley is a great place to see a game. Too bad most don't go for that reason. I did not want to reply in such a tone since I like Chicago a lot and I have been to Windy City Classics and had a blast. This is a game that someone is crying that they lost. Never did I mention in my original post that we should shun the Cubs. I was treasuring the very ambiance that others mock.

The Sox our my team. You have every right to criticize them, but they already know that they aren't perfect. So good luck on that.The point here is amazing. We hate ourselves. Cubs fans are similar to Sox fans, we both consitantly suck. Every once and a while we win. It has been almost fifty years since this last happened and someone wants to debate the ethics and status of what fan should be able to piss farther. Whether a Cubs fan or a Sox fan; shut up. You are creating the worse kharma ever. Cubs have their scapegoats, Sox have the scandal. We still lost. WE STILL LOST. It had nothing to do with the what union they belong to, or what fraternity they pledged, or who allowed pink hats for the team to sell, a ball was not hit.

Your life has become more trivial than any stat on ESPN, any collector's item, or any autograph you have. Fans are not meant for the level of prominence as the team. They are meant to support the team to that prominence. You, sad as you are, alone with your corked bat, urine hand lotion, goat, fan interference, seventh inning distraction, crumbling stadium and legacy- did not win. The fundamentals, basics, "rudimentary skills" were void from daily participation.

It is as equally hard to lose as it is to win. By now I thought the Cubs fans would know this. But then again I am just an ignorant Sox fan.

Still Staring at the Truth

I am rendered speachless about the White Sox. This is the greatest thing ever. Besides my inevitable romantic relationship with Kelly Clarkson, or Mandy Moore- I digress. There is nothing better to see than a team that hails across the highway from housing projects be on the verge of being undisputable champion. Forget location, it's motivation that matters.

Enough of the saga of the Sox though. I am about 14 hours away from trying to get the hardest ticket in my life. There are so many strategies that I feel more dorked out than when I learned the Contra code. My favorite thing about seeing a struggle end in success is the burden visably lifted off the faces of older people. I spent twenty minutes with my mom day dreaming the experience of a championship clinching moment. She told me that she would pour her pop out on my head.

When the Sox win it will be the most insane party in Chicago. The city will stop still, mainly since all the people working are Sox fans. The mayor is a fan. Goddamn is that great. Why? He comes from a blue collar don't fuck with me mentality.

Maybe the ambiance of the Cell is intentional. By having the projects close, gang signs on street signs, and women that could beat the snot out of any visiting fan kept our field sacred to us. No beer gardens. Drink in the parking lot or the stadium. Radio stations won't even make it to the Cell. Now they are forced. There are about 50 scared pansy radio hosts who claim the south side have "passion" that would make most people wear kevlar. I like this moment because it will show people that sure it looks not so pretty, but we play ball here too.

This is not baseball. This is an arm full of self inflicted bruises, constant eye rubbing, and the first time that many south siders have read the paper since the Bulls return to the playoffs.

I am getting circular here, so I guess I will go back to re-reading the paper.

Vac-Ay Day 6 Review: Culture Crunch

So sure this happened eight days ago but it is the final chronicle in my vacation. What better way to spend a rainy day then to watch college football and interupt the one person reading every fifteen minutes so that no one can achieve anything all day.

Once night fell, we went out for a Spanish play. Yikes, my Spanish has slipped moreso than I hoped. It was a love story about how we refuse the people in our lives since they are not our ideal prototype. That moment was full of irony since well I can never seem to decide on someone being a long term romantic possibility. I found the theme to be summed up in words that may come easier to most of us than saying I love you... your flaws are tolerable.

We caught up with friends for one final debacle of debatchory. This place in the AM screems of college mentality where all pack in to watch sports and drink specials when the lights go on. I bought my first round of lunch boxes since leaving Wisconsin. D.C. Prices are much higher than the cow tiping capital but oh well. When I chug that drink it magically takes me to a dive where some fraternal/sorority formal took place.

The spectator sport of the night was watching an older - and I mean much older woman trying to play on a younger guy. I am all in favor of the sugar momma. Something about their ability to spend their husband's pension on me that is a very attractive. This woman put her hand on the seat for a good 15 minutes while boy'o went to the potty. There came a point in the night that I was on the verge of stepping behind her and saying "come on mom! Dad only died six months ago!"

My bar assesment of DC women is that it is a priority that they are seen as smart sexy more than fun sexy. Whereas in the midwest there is a bout for wholesome sexy and classy sexy. It is impossible to live in DC and not be smart. If you are an idiot and living in DC you clearly are a tourist. The IQ of the homeless people in DC I am sure could out smart most homeless people. That is something that Alec Tribec should focus as the next Jeopardy promotion- Homeless Week. Come see which city has the bums that with a nights stay at the HOJO, a clean shave and a toothbrush could very well be your boss.

I was able to catch up with Paul again before I left. We went to some house party where he with held valuable info- they were cashed of all things alcoholic. I was at the point where I needed to go home; I started smoking. This display is to only confirm my obsession with abrupt mortality. That and I love the pain it causes for days after even though I never inhale.

Alas, we went on to another bar, why? It is the farewell tour of one group of hodgepodge folks in a land of ideals and restrictions. Whoa! tangent - back on track. So we went to this place that fired me up for a number of reasons. 1. They told me I could not wear my hat back words. I then turned it around. 2. Another person then told me I could not wear a baseball hat there. 3. The person we were meeting up with was sweating one of my friends that I came with, and am definitely attracted to. 4. I knew I was too drunk and fired up so I held off from drinking or even saying a word. (for me to stay silent something is wrong) 5. Leaving the bar some chump was wearing a hat in there.

DC is full of politics but somehow still gets away with calling them parties. Right on, everyone wants to f eachother, whether literally or professionally is the only question.

Vac-Ay Day 5 Review: Blood, Wet, and Beers

It was last Friday that I had even more vivid memories made. I crashed at my friend's and they have about three cats there. I am alergic. Now, that is only one reason why I think cats are pointless to life. The other is that the damn things insist on jumping from the windowsill to my chest or crotch. Whatever pun you find necessary please insert.

One leap woke me up and I ended up feeling a drip down my face. I touched my face fearing cat urine and finding deep red blood. This stuff would make a Columbian jealous. I rushed up and covered my face. It was dripping in my hands consistantly. I went to the bathroom sink where I spent the next 15 minutes, no joke trying to stop the bleeding. It was scary when I out of desperation leaned back to only have a mouthful of blood leak into my mouth. I spit a glob of blood that even grossed out my friend. Once I knew that I was ok, we stepped out to the pouring rain. With what soon was a theme- no umbrella.

Later that night my other friend came into town and she was in need of the getaway. We planned on going to see Kevin Pollak and did so. However, it was still raining steadily and we HAD NO UMBRELLA! I am typically against them, but when it looks like we just came out of the shower they are needed.

Hoping to keep the cost of the night down we went to the liquor store to pick up a couple 5ths to bring in. We then drank in one of the walkways and were moments away from selling Streetwise. Upon entering the club we sat down drench and soon enough saw the man. If you haven't seen Kevin do so. He is so very talented. A great Walken bit and decent Shatner.

After that, we hit the bars again. Soon it turned into another throwdown. There were crazy girls dancing on the benches. One in particular was my favorite. Butterfly, I called her, was battling her own balance, drink, and ability to look sexy. I tried to get Matt to dance with her but she was a slinky on the dance floor.

Then there was Chris. An alledged vet from Iraq. "Just back" mind you. See that was the excuse Matt was going to use do to his neo-nazi haircut by the Chinatown barber. (that's a blog itself) Anyway, Chris thinks that my friend and I should spend the night together and what have you. Little did he know that all three of us put in for the hotel, so I expected her to be with us.

I went to offer him a free drink on the basis that he was not bs-ing me. Chris then was animate about getting me a shot. I associate this to my friend being very attractive. Somehow, I won't ask Chris found it necessary to spend time with me more than anyone in the bar for about 15 minutes. He returned with a tequila shot, which almost did me in.

The great thing about staying til last call is walking out of the bar and realizing that there is a gentlemen's club next door. Sure it closes at the same time but every one of those girls has their rides pull up as they are at the door. I understand the trust issues there but come on, leaving without saying hello only to get into a Dodge Avenger shames us all.

Doesn't it?

Vac-Ay Day 4 Review: Legal Signs

Day 4 had a lot of things packed into it. I'll start at night as most of this vacation did. We went to one of my favorite Spanish restraunts Jaleo and had some tapas. Big horizon expansion because of Paul. He ordered monk fish with egg plant. That is something that is as eqaully impressive to eat as it is to order. That is nothing to what was the main course- partying with some AU law students.

I always hear that law students work so hard and make very precious moments of the free time they have. Well by about 11 the bar was packed with people convinced of their need to reed the thickest books ever. I enjoyed the fact that there were blow pops and licorice at the bar for those on E.

I knew that law students are damn smart but when did they have some of the hottest women? Blew my mind that these attractive women someday want to practice law. Sexist? No, I am glad to see the smart and sexy combination somewhere else besides on the WB.

Here is the sub plot. Our hotel bathroom was horrible. Flushing was a purely at the discretion of the toilet. That made for difficult times when one needed to take a read. With that being said I had to go. At the club. You can't go at the club. No one can. Men are given a 20-35 second grace period for any bathroom break. Women, roughly a day and a half. I thought I could make it quick, and well that was again not to be in the cards as the knock at the door was more ominous than any a law enforcement official could make. I played the rest of the night at half speed.

Prior to and after that break I met a girl that was 1. very attractive 2. wanting to talk and 3. a law student with a sense of compassion. I had to talk with this girl. She wanted to leave shortly because of her being "tired and broke." Alright pumpkin I can pick up on that code. -Would you like me to buy you a drink? "Sure." Now this is a test here. When anyone asks to buy your next drink you should pick A) what you have been dying to try at the bar B) anything that is top shelf to show class C) what you could afford if buying next.

C. The answer is C. But that's ok. I bought a great round of high end bourbon and talked with a sweet girl that honestly would have not. I made her laugh and she gave me her number and invitation to a party all on her own accord. Who knows how long the night could have went if her ride had not given her the witching hour look. Then again she may have just been looking for a ride home.

Looks like I should have bought one more bourbon. I am so bad at picking up signals.

Vac-Ay Day 3 Review: Over Under pt 1

So the day started much quicker than planned, for I checked my flight and low and behold I did not have the 10:10 am flight. I had the 6:45 am flight. What a moron. Fortunately that was not a problem to get to. So I land at Reagan at like 9:30am and realize that well I am 2 and a half hours ahead of schedule. There is only one way to compensate that extra time- I took the bus.

So I am outside Union Station and I see a smoking girl. Nice way to start the trip, eye candy for all. Trick or Treat is the question. We end up going on the bus together. Red flag #1 attractive people never use mass transit. Never. They've got bitches to drive them places. So here's the kicker... she's deaf. She ended up chatting/ signing with another deaf man on the bus. A pure love connection I am sure. It lead me to my first quandry of the trip- would you ever have sex with a deaf person? Lights on would have to be accomodating in the slightest.

The hotel. Expedia ranked it as a 1.5 star hotel. That's no good. It was $70 a night and between three people it was cheaper than a round of drinks. Located on the north east side with the rest of the government programmed citizens, this crap hole was painted a mild pastel green.

Upon entering I see a nice marble floor. Sweet! Then I look up to see the plexiglass encassed front desk lead by former 7 eleven management. I take the elevator up (noticed it was last inspected in 2003 to be up to code) to my room that should have been rented by the hour.

When all my friends get there, they praise my internet booking savvy. I go to relax on the chair in the corner but I fall right through it. The pool was under renovation as well.

~~~~~~

So then came the drinks. A couple martinis, a Jameson shot that came out Jaeger, then a couple beers and then some chow. After making an impromptu bar crawl in DC we went to the Mad Hatter. I love that place. We loaded up on Coronas and began a joint effort to annoy people.

We played over under on the collective age of a group of people. I got it right on. Then this older gal comes over flirtatiously - "why didn't you guess my age?" I began to tell myself- because you too goddamn old looking. I told her we went in groups of three. She insisted on having me guess her age. HORRIBLE IDEA! Figuring I was not planning on getting with her I said 26. She was 24. I waited for a drink in my face.

Nope. She told me that she is trying to look older for her new job. Probably with the AARP. So I realize the opportunity to practice my bar interaction. I invite her to sit and chat. She introduced herself as blah blah blah. Humbly I know that she wanted attention that night. But I was on to her antics. She is one of those girls that pull their pants up past the waist to make it look like they have a smaller waist line. Be true ladies. And if you want to look older, I thought it was common knowledge to put your hair in a bun and button shirt all the way up.

Playing over under with a group that doesn't want to play is a great way to come off as a dick- or in their opinion, people from New York. They asked if we were from there. We said no and listed from all over we were, and then took the over under on how many of them were going in to work the next morning.

Vac-Ay Day 2 Review: Whoa! That's Heavy Doc

I am mentally exhausted. I just watched three movies back to back to back. They are some of the most challenging films made in the past few years. I started with Million Dollar Baby, then Crash, and closed with Mullholland Dr. My mind is mashed potatos and well I love it.

Million Dollar Baby- I spent a good portion of time realizing that I would see this film and intentially skipped any review. What a message to deliver. My hat is way off to Clint on that one. There is something about having Morgan Freeman narrate. I would like him to be my voicemail recording. So dramatic and pensive at the same time. It would be impossible to leave me a mean message with the soothing voice of Morgan "the gate keeper" Freeman there. Overall, Oscars were deserved. Four stars and big tip- not a date movie.

Crash- do not rent this movie. Buy it. I am convinced I will watch it a few more times this year alone. There are so many rich characters that you can't focus on them all. It's not possible. Again, the message told here pushes racial issues, fears, and stereotypes. If you watch this movie and are not moved to evaluate yourself and how you treat others, go put on your Sunday's best since you're dead to the world. Even some bubblegum chick could pick something up from this. Hell Sandra Bullock and Brandan Frasier are in it- and don't ruin it. Finally some director understood that if you needed them to show more affection they would randomly start to fall all over the place. Five stars and big tip- this is one of the heaviest messages that is easiest to pick up. Did I mention Tony Danza has a cameo? That is a Vac-Ay Day 2 moment to remember.

Mullholland Dr. - If you want you mind to be violated and left to stare at itself then rent this immediately. Possible owning film and not just because of the lesbian encounters on film. Although I am theorizing that those scenes helped push Oscar consideration. "The cinematography was great in the Peter Weir movie." "Yes, but there was no girl on girl action." "True."
This film pushes themes of Hollywood, and well personal advancement and the price we will pay. Painted vaguely clear with a surrealistic brush this movie earned so much respect even more so in the final thirty minutes. Four stars and big tip- this is not a family night movie. I take that back, if you went to private school bring this home to let your folks know what really happens.

And I did it all without Netflix. That company will crumble like the rest once this internet fad has gone away.

Vac-Ay Day 1 Review: Open Wide and Swing Away

Sweet Christ is it nice to be on vacation. Never from the blog though. So Monday was day one and it was frankly delicious. I went to visit a good friend of mine and he was even open to procrastinating on his Phd work. Now that's a friend.

I arrived at about midnight and was quick to be introduced to the keg-o-rator that we gave for his wedding present. With wifey out of town there was not a contrary thought to a midnight beer. It was grand, even for Budlight.

Waking up at umm 10:00am was another treat. See this is the inverse week here. Instead of working 50+ hrs it is quite possible that I will sleep 50+ hours. That plus the array of friends I plan on catching up with, and plenty of boozing will only let the golden era continue on. There is something we need to talk about.

Life is so stressful for all of us who are not on marijuana. We need a release right? Well after my banana bread breakfast (alliteration 5 pts) we then went to do what any mature guys would do at 10:45 in the morning- we went to play home run derby. Now my slider with the whiffel ball is still freak nasty but alas, no bite. My friend damn near tripped on the sinker though.

The problem there was that the bat and ball were in my trunk the majority of the summer and thus were softer than the top of Bush's head. We switched out to tennis balls and well the Tall Lanky Bastard brought out what is called in the yard, the lumber. I was not all offense either, my little league all star form returned to pitch three solid innings with only three earned runs. A battle of rivals to only be seen on a Monday morning with a stellar crowd of a scary shirtless running man, and a eerie girl that was a bit too big for the swings at the playground.

When men finish a hard fought competition there is only one place to go for postgame recaps- Steak n' Shake. There is something about getting your shake served to you by a girl that makes R Kelly find an aliby, Does anyone know if excessive eyeliner is in the dress code for employees there? Diner goth is so hot!

Back to the matter at hand. Flavor fest. This joint has really focused on the shakes of late and that is a plus since the meals are something that rival my college cafeteria. I had the best shake in years. A strawberry fudge cheesecake shake. Fan-freaking-tastic. Taste was true to name, just without the hassle of chewing. So good, so good. You know when you had something special when you burp hours later and can still revel in that taste in the back of your mouth. (don't be grossed out- you know what I am saying.)

The big lesson to be learned from yesterday (besides to not let a curve ball hang out there in front of me - damn!) was that one most be responsible enough to realize being irresponsible is necessary too. Of course that is best in moderation, with friends around, beer, and while the wife is out of town.

This Just In

My cousin passed the bar. Congrats to him and beware Illinois you know not the wrath of articulation bottled up over the past eight years of higher education. This is a great moment. I sure hope he has been rockin the scotch. I know I will.