Dream On

Last night I was in the middle of some well needed sleep when some disturbing events entered. I have been woken with some bad dreams over time but this was just annoying. The dream I had was that I was driving to the police department to pay for my parking ticket. While I was getting out of the car I was followed by an officer without my knowledge. I paid the fine and then returned to my car only to see the office giving me another parking ticket.

That was just malicious. Who gives someone a ticket while they pay thier ticket? Fortunately, I have remote control over my dreams and didn't have to go to court for it.

I have two main fears in my life that are tangible. The biggest one is spiders. I don't know why? Afterall, they are rumored to kill off mosquitos and other bugs that sole purpose is to extend biology lectures. Maybe if I saw a spider take out a bug that bothered me I would be more appreciative. I would be ok with the spider leaving a portion of a centipede on its web as a sign of service to our understanding. Instead, those webs are only hung to make me feel like I am about be stabbed by some B-rate killer.

That's why I have decided to eliminate the top two of my fears. I would like to kill a spider...with a shotgun. Double barrelled too. I wouldn't fix the whole in the wall either. The gaping whole would send a message to the rest of the spider community. This could sping into a domestic battle where I may be pushed to enlist whatever is next on the food chain, frogs or birds or shoes.

I curently am on coffee ice cream. Ice cream is designed to relax, coffee to stimulate. I may have found the suburban eight ball.

Man Broccoli/ Cleaning Day

Today marks the third time in two months that my roommates and I have delegated cleaning day. It's not really a day. The actual duration is best compared to when you were at the public pool and your friends through in quarters in the bottom of the deep end and you hold your breath just long enough before you pass out.

Cleaning the kitchen primarily requires scrubbing week old coffee stains that were to mark like rings on a tree the time my roommate started his bar studies. He has claimed to have been tanning but I am lead to believe he is actually drinking so much coffee his pigment is changing.

In a very similar way I held my breath as I churched up bathroom duty for three of us guys. Don't get me wrong, it's not like we're some monkeys at the end of a ballgame...but it is a bathroom. It's like walking into a crime scene. There used to be life here. Just trying to rationalize the grime made me confirm that it is possible to be a guy that is like his mom. I would remember her asking us how we managed to get toothpaste so far up on the mirror. I now am baffled, maybe because I am the tallest one and I know that it wasn't me. Perhaps my sub-six foot roommate used his footstool to brush like a five year old?

There is a shower cleaning spray that claims that as long as you spray it after showers once a day, it will clean the tile itself. I don't really know if I buy that it cleans but at least when it still looks like a highway motel I can point the finger to the mute bottle of shower spray.

I have a dishwasher and love every minute of it. Now if I could just get one that loads and unloads automatically I would be really happy.

Auto Show '07

So here are some pics for you to look at. Plenty more to come but these are some of my favorites.

New Year's To Do/Think about List '07

Well, writing down a resolution or thirty may be a bold thing I'd do in the past. Writing resolutions down is something I take very serious. It's like the biggest grocery list I have to make for myself. What sucks is how we don't plan to run into that side display of nacho cheese but still make room for it. (ooh metaphors this early in the year, bonus!)

1. Go Swimming 3 times a week - I used to think I could do that more but I am seriously bothered by how the ederly make a locker room a nudist colony and begin to recall yesteryear.

2. Eat healthier - Occasionally put green peppers on my pizza. Consider that done.

3. Catch 22 - Actually read the thing, don't use it as a papertowel.

4. Learn Guitar - If I practiced as much as I play Guitar Hero I could be earning big cash at a coffee house.

5. Public Transportation - Use it more. I fear the dream where Al Gore comes to visit and leaves Tipper to supervise me.

6. Be there for my brother - It's only a matter of time before the Cubs put their uniforms back on.

7. Develop a random impersonation - Remember when a Walken was clever and funny? Maybe I could be the one skinny guy with a good Farley, can't fake fat.

Holiday Wish List

Now boys and girls, be careful for what you wish for you just may get it. I came to this nasty realization that there lies a great level of humilty and humiliation with one's selfishness and self-absorbed perspective on life. Let's check out the top things I saw on tv this week for consumption.


Fathead- the gigantor size of all sports poster/billboard for home or office. It could be NFL, NCAA, Nascar, NBA, or even NHL (incase anyone watches outside Canada and my friend Larry's house). The beauty of this product is that it can be moved from wall to wall with out losing it's stick. Which makes for a fortunate lifespan since it will more like need to be taken off the wall of many future ex-girlfriends wall quickly as she throws your weak ass out. I like this because I am a vidiot. There is nothing that cries for footie pajamas more than a giant poster of your favorite sport team on your wall well after your voice has cracked (I am exempt from that scrutiny as I am still on record for the being the oldest male to still crack his voice.).

Nike+i-Pod - Sweet, I always love to see the small sweatshops of the world collabo on a new toy. Now that an elevator voice is attributed to how far or fast I run I can't wait until they merge the i-pod with my shower caddy and toilet paper roll. I am always led to believe that the best inspiration for fitness should be who you're trying to sleep with. If that doesn't work just grab your waist and if you can grab enough to hang a small plant from it, keep running.

Birthcontrol- I don't recall the name of it but essentially it reduces the number of periods a girl has a year. Watch out ladies. So you are not having your friend flow over for a coffee as much. Repurcssion one; once we know that say good bye to the logically illogical mood swings and ability to kill without guilt. Gone are the days where you can make that silent gesture to get out of situations, dates, or traffic tickets. On the bright side now the hot women can wear white pants longer.

Thank God we got past that white after Labor Day rule.

Dental Dam!

I just got back from the dentist today. The installments of pain are due to my lack of flossing, so I hear. My dentist is a nice guy but today was a rough day. While using what felt like a tire jack on my face, he began to give me play by play. I get you are drilling out the bad stuff. There is no need to tell me what you are doing explicately. However, could you please make sure the hygentist gets the game plan prior to coming into the room. Never am looking forward to people hunching over me with the words "just give me the 24 gauge" uttered.

No matter what the dentist tells you regarding the severity of the problem you will be informed by the sound of the drill when it hits tooth. Like the slowest bee sting the first drill slapped some sense into me. Ok, I will floss more. Too Late. In came another drill. This one was a slow mini version of the drill from NASA. I may have opted for being thrown down the flight of stairs it felt like was going through that tooth.

While mastering how to clench my entire body for over an hour, I was asked questions about what I felt and being ready for more of the proceedure. It was at that point that I realized how effective dental work can be as creative sentencing for felons. I was nodding and giving a thumb up for more pain. Now granted, this pain is covered by sedation; for an hour.

I was blessed with nice banter with the hygentist. She asked me if I had spent any time "watching these bears?" It was at this moment I realized how I sound when I am full of it. A very sweet gesture negated by the fact that I thought we had concluded the process. Wrong. The only thing more painful than dental work is coming back from intermission. Hey, let's have that sedative ware down.

At one point, as leaning in to proceed the dentist asked "I hope you don't feel this."

I think we all know that honesty is the best policy, just probably not in medicine.

Face for Radio

Back on the air! I am going to be on wtmx-fm tonight at 7:30pm tonight for the Mix's on air dating show call Mix'n'Match on air dating. The sweet deal is that I am the bachelor that picks one of three girls. Check it out on line at www.wtmx.com and I will report in full post show.

NACA Photos (Mid America/West) part 1

Long Lasting Sap

As I was driving around Lake Tahoe the other day, I stopped at a beach. Nice, cold but nice. The trees where huge, and so were the pine cones. I picked one up that was roughly the size of my head (which is large). When I went to put it down I realized extra large pine cones come with an extra large ammount of sap. I was able to wash the sap off in the lake but then had some transfer of sap. I went to make a call on the cell phone, passed sap on to the phone, and then sap to my sideburns. This sap has been on the side of my head like cement for almost four days now. Someone told me to just comb it out. The thought of that pain and bald spot scares me.

Taste of the Road

After the past six weeks I have hit three conferences and three states meeting hundreds of students. Arkansas, Illinois and Nevada have given me plenty to talk about and now the blog remembers.

While in Arkansas the conference was tied into one of the finest and rare community events. Duke Days, when Little Rock honors the fine show of "Dukes of Hazard." There were about ten general lee's, boss hog's patrol car and many more. I really look forward to getting back to Arkansas. One major reason Chuch's Chicken.

With all the programs to attend while there I had one half day to recover and I did so with SEC football and a trip to the Church's Chicken. The chicken itself is nothing to boast about, but there is something on the menu that makes life tolerable. Sweet corn nuggets. Now as I lay watching Alabama play football, I became the posterchild of a sloth moment. I actually set the deep fried corn nuggets on my stomach as I watched the game. Equally satisfying and disturbing. It's hard to pinpoint a moment in one's life where you can feel the initial curve on the downward spiral of livelihood. Thank you Church's Chicken.

~~~~

In Peoria I was lucky enough to hit up two of my favorite places, Arby's and Bob Evan's. Now the only peculiar thing I must say about this Arby's is that it was the most outgoing, friendly, and female Arby's ever. Run by what may very well have been the cheerleading team on a quest for new uniforms. When I was leaving it was like trying the GAP Challenge (entering the store, touch the back wall and leave without being spoken to by an employee.). I was nearly out the door when a firing squad of courtesy sprayed thank yous and farewells. American values, and the best curly fries; you can't beat that.

It is common knowledge that I happened to forget to book my hotel for Peoria. Upon the first night of hanging out I found myself experimenting how well a car stays warm overnight. Four hours of sleep in the rental car gave me plenty of rest until the cold woke me up. (by the way, of all disturbing ways to be woken, cold is definitely a memorable one.) I drove over to the Bob Evans for a quality meal where I sat between the typical male elders in mesh hats discussing the morning commute and pending winter weather. Once I finished I did continue in my luxury stay in the front seat of the rental. The level of class I bring is slightly higher than sleeping four hours behind a Bob Evans. Regardless, I recommend it completely, barring you bought breakfast.

~~~~

Reno taught me the importance of refridgeration. I ordered a massive ammount of pizza one night and worked on it for the next day and a half. All the toppings were handling well except for the chicken. That stuff goes south in a hurry. The term shelf life is a very misleading one. I was quick to realize that the average time frame for determining shelf life of food is almost always hind sight.

The road is great but there is something to be said about home cooking, you don't need to sleep in a car to enjoy it.

The O-Ring/Manhood Proxy

It has come to my attention that I am on a renegade diet headed nowhere close to the cob salad craze. Which by the way, how can someone get geeked on a salad? Is there any meat in it? Or is it the dressing that seals the deal? Newsflash- salad dressing is garden gravy, not good for you either (at least not through excessive amounts, but we all have self control). Check out my weekend eating.

Saturday I woke up early to get messed up by the dentist and drool on myself for three hours post procedure. I intro the day with some applesauce (not because I am some lamo, but because the stuff with cinnamon is sweet), then logical choice is pork chop in a spicy hickory marinade, a couple beers, and then two custom made burgers that could be mistaken for beef saucers, easily 1/3 lb after the grill. Those were delicious but not the best of the weekend.

I was set to meet my dad for pizza mid Sunday. However he was caught in some tourist thing and I went for a snack with my friends until he called. Well, I ordered a basket of onion rings. I ate them myself. Pretty much 2/3 lb (guess) of onion rings consumed in 30 minutes. I then drove to my apartment only to be called when I got there. He was at the pizzeria, waiting. Now I had to get there and prepare myself to eat again.

I sit down and couldn't even stomach a drink stronger than water. He then mentions that we should get the usual. Fearing that, I looked blankly, another order of onion rings and a large sausage pizza was in the mix. Now this is a smaller portion of rings but after already eating my fill of them I had to now hide the fact I ate some not too long ago.

I took care of those no problem. Then comes the pizza. I know pizza, and more importantly the psychology of pizza. As each slice is eliminated the mental state of the eater changes. First it is great to eat, then it turns into I could go for a couple more, finally there are 4-6 slices (if square) or 2 (triangle) that remain. At this point the pizza begins to taunt as they are the few, the proud, the leftovers. It is now a mission to eat these bastards off the plate and leave nothing but it's greasy memory on a paper napkin. There were four pieces left my dad takes two says "we need to finish this, and you need to take those two...Or you're not a man." Joking sure, but never has he given such an ultimatum. I knew that there was a better way to get one's manhood justified. I am sure the ladies will dig that too.

Big Mig and the 10 Foot Square

So I went out to a concert on Saturday that is pretty much frat rock with the concentrated pool of horny sorority girls. The last time this band was in town I went, got drunk and hooked up as well. This time was not too far from the formula. However this time it only took me ten minutes to meet some girl upon getting into the show. Hitting off quite easily and then comes the dilemma, I finished my beer. She sees that I have to go by the law of binge drinking. She gives me money to do the run for her as well. I turn around, she grabs me looks deeply in my eyes and pauses so long I thought there would be a a make out session. She then says "you promise that you'll come back with the beer? Promise me that? Please.

Amazingly, I took the quest with vigor and made it to the beer cart no problem with my friend. We turned around and then I realized something about myself- no matter how confident I may be, finding two people in a sea of thousands very hard, especially ten beers in and wearing aviator sunglasses while at night. I did find her again, so I thought. This girl had a headband that was multi-color and when I returned that was the item I looked for. It was closely attached to the forehead of someother dude. What?! I thought we had something!? I was going to call her out on it but I didn't create a scene and interrupt the other drunken hook-ups, plus I had two free beers! (at $10 a beer that's a fair trade)

Well into the show I was barely conscious. I had what I thought I hit gold with comedy gold. I came up with a show idea. I called my mom because I didn't have a notepad. It was loud, my mom and brother were taking the call and they thought I was in trouble. Nope, the show with no other concept than the title itself was disclosed via drunk dial to mom.

Big Mig and the 10 Foot Square. Coming soon. Gold.

Good for USA

COME ON BY AND SEE THE SHOW!!!

Brats, Brats, Burning

So this past weekend was more than monumental. Besides being a solid amatuer bacci ball player, this weekend took the cake. Quick hits here, for those who would like a box score. Here goes.

Brats eaten by myself- 6 in two sittings, plus 1 burger, 1.5 pork chops and countless beers.
Break ups - 1 (awesome, best holiday split ever)
Number of women I met, offered to buy a drink and then backed out of the offer. - 1

So to the big story, my friend brought up his law school gal pal. She came to a show of mine on Friday and seemed to enjoy the end of the night. Never before have I actually been around someone that was disgusted by middle class socializing. To much shagrin, she was a trooper for about 2.5 hours and then apparently the cook out was to end according to her or the Martha Stewart magazine guiding the elite through life.

So we heckled her to be the ball girl during a pool volleyball match. With her vapid personality I was actually pleased that in the past few days my dogs had liberal digestive systems. Alas, she kept her shoes clean but was vying to leave pronto. Being the new found buzzkill to the party my friend spoke to her about not having a set time to be at my party. She then replies, "the novelty has worn off." He asked if that was regarding the pool girl comments (which were running dry in all honesty), she then said "no, being here."

To cut this story into a readable length, my friend told her to essentially stop being so selfish and wait until they left. Prior to leaving the room with her. They broke up. I said somethings to her that in all honesty were way to nice. She cried that it was her birthday weekend (Tuesday is the day), and I bit my tongue to let her know that a birthday weekend works when you are in college, or around people that realize how much of an attention whore you are. (I know that is ironic with my eternal quest for attention, at least I try to make people laugh on the way though.)

~~~~
So I went to the beach today. Awesome. I am very proud of the midwest female population that made it out today. Good get on the bikinis and general interest in beach sports. As I patroled the beach in my aviators, we decided it would be best to hit the waves. Now, I am a semi-pro lake wave surfer and think I conquered about a 5.75 foot wave at one point today. My friend lost his aviators and we came to realize one thing. We are above the waves, unofficially the best frisbee players in the midwest, and we should have put on sunblock.

What I love about the sunburn is that you can't see it come until a couple hours later. Sunburns come in all different colors and even shapes. Mine has done an acceptional job highlighting my sholders and soon to come six pack (or present belly).


Happy 4th.

The Next Great Tease/ and Show

So firt things first. Incase you don't follow the myspace page, tonight I am performing a stand up show.A lenghty show, of full show proportions. That's right, the show that should have occurred in April has found a site tonight.

The Apollo Chicago Theater
2540 N Lincoln Avenue Chicago, IL 60614
Box Office (773) 935-6100
Tickets $10. at the door, over the phone or through ticketmaster.
Start 10:30p.

The next great tease is that I got an email today from a person requesting to have my address to let me know if I made it or not to perform in the Boston Comedy Festival. Sweet! Right? Well, why would someone ask to get your mailing address to reject you if they could already do it via email? If that goes south I now know that almost will only be a good story to people that only never.

More shows and blogs to come, I promise I'll try again.

Walk This Way

Something of late has returned to my attention. I apparently have trouble walking. In high school I grew so quickly that I walked like Shaggy. Now, (maybe the shoes) fell down stairs and almost fell again this morning. Falling down stairs is such a humbling experience. It shows that you are either really old, not paying attention, drunk, or less skilled mechanically than a three year old.

I don't know what is worse. Growing up I actually caught a number of people from falling all the way down our steps to our family room. Great-grandma was the scariest. She was so old that when I went to grasp her from falling further I feared breaking her bones that way.

Maybe the handicap ramps are more embarrassment resistant slopes. I think they are great ideas, it's a shame that the majority of early ramp use comes at an amusement park. Our minds are conditioned to get to a rollercoaster after winding around for a quarter mile, not Wal-Mart.

Bill of Hook Up Rights

Welcome to the world of hook up ettiquette. Now that Spring is back and we are trying to kick the sexual rust off on a couple of practice runs, (or in the baseball metaphor world- going to the cages) let's make sure we can agree to a hook up treaty.

This like our great constitution must be able to be ammended but at the same time we should have the Bill of Hook Up Rights that all people are entitled to until they break them and must be tried by a mass of pop culture tinted gossip lenses. So let's begin, shall we?

1. Freedom of STD's. Sorry you must be honest and not like the MLB's steriod policy. One and done. Plus it's not like we won't be suspicious of the chronic itching.

2. The right to bear birth control, and use it. Stop telling us it helps keep your face free of oil and whatever other crater formed on your face.

3. One may only sexile with consent of the 'xiled. (if there is no consent, best make sure the story is good the following day.)

4. It is unlawful for one to perform unreasonable search and seizure, afterall you're not there to read their 7th grade diary.

5. The right to not answer any self-incriminating questions (ex-talk, previous performance standards, etc.)

6. All last moment accusations/confessions are deferred to a rebuttal of wingmen/women in person or via cell phone. The next morning if needed.

7. Biting/scratching or whatever kinky junk floats your boat is acceptable once agreed upon, and above the waist.

8. Eliminating other potential hook ups because of relationship with one party is considered cruel and jealous (not unusual).

9. Negative rumors after the fact are disparaging and discouraged. Embarrassing moments are fair game.

10. Ex-sex is permitted, just remember dinner = dating.

Lingering Blog- Back Again

So sorry to those who check this and have been not entertained for the last month. I have made some changes and am about six weeks out of debuting a production of my own. This is much bigger than I thought as it has consumed most of my time and has taken me away from the stand up opportunities. Well that will change soon as well.

Audition! Next Saturday 3/25/06

Want to be in a new improv show. The previous two man show I was in is expanding and will be hosting open casting calls on Saturday afternoon downtown. Please simply respond to this posting and I will be in touch. The time is from 3p-6p.

Take care.

Last Comic Standing

So I went to the audition. Did I audition no. 1. Apparently the swift character of the industry went ahead and gave out the applications to 100 people the night before. Sweet. Either that or the comic acquaintences that I have wanted me to get out of there. I didn't even go up to the coordinator because I realized something about the show that would prevent me from wanting it. It's too good to be true. To have a almost instant exposure could lead to mob rule in one's favor but also that ability to keep that attention of new found fans would be more than a customary challenge for a performer. I am not trying to pacify my non-audition but moreso admit to not being able to handle network contouring of portions of my career.

Instead I am working on putting up my own showcase and taking that around. Feel free to contact me for a potential show, proceeds are going to local charities near each venue.

Someday

I don't have much time to devote to this one. I certainly look forward to the day I have the clout to either shoot a friend and feel no repercussions or drive drunk, hit someone else and then take a year off from work. Justice is not necessary if criminals like these could just teach the other monkeys.

Romantic Apathy

That's how you win their heart, spread it on, lose control, and most importantly- feel wanted. I went out on Saturday because I didn't want to. My friend was that and told me I should. We celebrated a birthday in a way that I never did before. We hopped bars with general formality and couldn't care more than the fact we all stood near eachother.

I went into three bars that night and was given the time of day with a number by women. Why? They sensed I was not there for them. The senses of women are strong. They can smell a man happy with the current point in life and become confused, since they are not involved in that joy.

They told me I was just like one of their good friends, who ironically was not with them that night. They told me that the purse I stood behind at the bar didn't match my shirt. I was quick to let them know that in fact it did match my shoes, and embarrasingly I do have under elements that match the leopard print purse. I was being full on checked out by a herd (accurate for a reason) group of women. Then one girl saw this made a joke and loved watching me be the meat for a change. I felt good about that girl but made no move since the only girl I wanted to speak with was at another bar. (Lesson of life #215- A chump commits to a non-existant/unshared romance)

We went to the other bar and life was fine. I should mention between the first and second there was a minor connection that made me deny any woman I saw in the next bar. I was asked again about being Irish (I have a jacket that says Dublin). Here's where the tables turn. Signs of flirting vary over time and then some drunken bump ups cause nothing but a false start on my part. I got the laugh to cover but now she was back in charge. Why? She backed off interest.

Romance is a delicous poison. We will turn on a room full of loved ones to find out why the person at the door is leaving. I am convinced that the best romantic philosophy is to let love fall into your life like a trust fund. Ride it into the ground or up the ladder.

Do you like to climb or to coast?

Precious/Gay for it

Can someone explain to me why we are stuck in the mid 80's again? I have heard multiple stations playing Depeche Mode's Precious. Now I am on the verge of going to my Ticketmaster friends looking for Cure tickets as well. The song's not that great anyway. I appreciate manic-depressive music like the next Counting Crows fan but at least make it a bit more current with the times please.

I just went to i-tunes and they are doing a direct marketing for each user. Very smart. You bought x song, now try z song. So there is a play list of about 10 songs to buy just for me. Some I appreciate, some I have, some that make me a flamer. Apparently my past purchases of (I am sure of this) 80s ballads like Roxette, Total Eclipse of the Heart (Dan Band version as well and a couple more.

This comes to me at an ironic Valentine's timeframe. Did I buy the song? No because I have it already on a mix cd I found in college. Ran so far is not the song for me. The song that I am gay for now would have to be Check on it from Beyonce. I know it and am fine with it.

What song are you gay for? If you deny answering then you have more than musical weaknesses Sigfreid.

Best Trash Talk Ever

I was trash talking about playing my friend at work in racketball, a sport that I don't even know the rules. "I'll crush you." I said. He then replies, in the office mind you, "yeah, well I have the tendancy to hit people in the back of the head with the balls so watch out."

I'm still laughing.

In Da Club

So I returned to the health club for what I call resisting nature. Can't we all just get fat? I can't. Whenever my stomach hits the belt buckle and it leaves an indentation that rivals a cattle branding I realize it's time to slow down and only eat two donuts when someone buys them for work.

I arrived at a time when the pool was not open. So I went to the place of fitness masturbation, cardio-land. That crap doesn't do anything but allow you to run up the stairs to get another bowl of ice cream. Oh, also make you walk like an astronaut for 20 minutes after you get off.

The only spot I found was a grimy elliptical that was placed so well in between two tv's that I could only stare at the wall. Such a metaphor for life. Not to forget that fact I was in a mini purgatory for ommitting fitness from my life. Now I maybe in salvageable shape but it's scary. I can feel the looming presence of man boobs if I don't get my act together.

When I went to swim I finally went and made some strides in my workout. There is a poor time for lap swimming. Whenever there is open swim next to it. Not only do I feel like a Scooby Doo villian due to those meddling kids but I began to think about how something that was a symbol of pure bliss is now a gauntlet of exercise.

All we do in those damn clubs is just for the flicker of a chance to show how underestimated we were. Don't worry ladies you can pretend you have the matching personality that will make our jaws drop while we work on wowing you with something we can lift- with the help of a friend.

Fate

I believe in fate. That's why I read my horroscope the day after.

TAURUS (April 20-May 20): It's totally normal to have feelings of escapism today. I can barely sit still to write this column. Take it easy, but try to indulge your need to explore the world more. Do something different. Go someplace you've never been to before. Talk to the animals.

The stars know all, see all, and tell all with pinpoint generalizations.

Pistol Toting Bachelorettes

Now that I have your attention, let me inform you that title is true. Last night I went out for a fine time at Chili's (that's how I turn it down a notch when I so am on fire). After that my friend and I hit the bar scene. Mistake one, we got there way too early. Mistake two, we spoke to a bachelorette party.

Why? It was a bizzarro world. For the first time in my life the ratio favored men at this oft-sausage hut. I had choices. CHOICES. Choices are dangerous. There were so many of them that I was able to literally know that abc plan route before we walked over there.

Within first minutes B was all about being friendly. Cool right? You bet mainly since I had my friend run wing man all night. So once I established the great relationship with B I asked her about A. Apparently, A was an immigrant and I shouted "no f---ing is she an immigrant!" Oh that was true. A looked like the middle child from 7th Heaven without the annoying need to talk so much. When I got to say hi to A she was leaving. She gave me her name and I thought she was clearing her throat. Broken English is cute/hot, but teaching the damn language is too much effort for bar love.

So back to B. Locked down. Full connection and she was cool, older but still digging me until he next drink was taken care of. Suddenly B was out of consideration because she got soaked up in the games of the night. Enter C. Yikes. The whole time metaphors went rampant. Eating vegetables I hate but know are good for me, batting cage practice, asking for more dental work. All of those options were how talking to her became.

The irony of these miscue's of romance are that we claim they are shallow and lack character to compel us to stay. Then we represent exactly that. She was a nice girl, just a complete mismatch again.

We were invited to the post bar party. That was so far away I began to thing an oasis would appear on the road. When we arrived at the house of what I thought was the house of one of the bride's friends I realized it was the fiance's house. Wonderful. He, mind you dressed in a wife beater, had a neo-Nazi shaved head with tattoos all over him. His friend was sporting his tattoos on the back of his neck, surely to commemorate his parole. Somehow we were welcomed in, that's right because it was a lion's den.

The next ten minutes I became acquainted with an albino pitbull. Now pitbulls are fierce, an albino is worse it feels it needs to prove its toughness. So we watched them (the girls too) wrestle the dog. Apparently this dog enjoyed being punched in the face. Something I think is a miscommunication between pet and owner. So much drama lead to a smoke break for many.

After walking back in from watching people smoke I was baptizes into the pits of hell. The bride was waving a .45 caliber pistol around while sitting at the kitchen counter. I would love to recall what she was hollering about but I was too concerned for their floor needing to be mopped. "It's not loaded." They claimed. Wow, that's good because I almost thought you were a freaking nut job. Actually, you are. Now, the party never hit the highs it could have since the fiance mentioned over and over that he didn't even have his shotgun with him at the house. Didn't he know that the guests would be coming over and would love to see the mental malitia's inventory. Could it still be in the evidence locker? Maybe.

It was at that point I was in Lord of the Flies mode, ready to let all the idiots kill themselves. All of the bachelorette parties I have seen at the bars have been memorable. This one was a dramatic interpretation to Pulp Fiction.

Bring in the Gimp.

Extra Hand

If you would like to be given the most negative unsolicited advice, tell your inner circle that you are thinking of pursuing that person romantically or buying a car.

Fool proof foolry.

Hype Sells

I saw King Kong about a week ago and I must say it was the most beautiful waste of my time in years. It's the new Titanic. The film takes about one hour to find the dumb monkey. Then was Peter decides to do is take twenty minutes from Jurassic Park and splice it in so that we can see, man, ape, and dinosaurs. Great job.

Besides every cliff looking like a copy from the trilogy of the Fellowship of the Ring, Peter Jackson's version just let the sour notes linger too long. Cliche little guy needs moral values spelled out by token black man. All principle characters avoid danger while others are picked off like bugs, and so on.

My big gripe of this all is Adrian Brody. Whoever thought manic depressive jumbo nosed drama man queens were the next big thing should turn off Bravo and let actors with testicles play the men. Now, I did like how poorly he was treated in the movie. However, I am still waiting for some bombshell to find my "inner beauty" and look past the protruding ears and freckles. It appeared as though his nose was getting bigger in each scene.

My question is whose nose is more gangly, awkward, or simply bigger? Adrian Brody or Ashlee Simpson? Imagine if they procreated. The kid would have a schnoz the size of a door knob. I really shouldn't judge since afterall, my nostrils are contoured up making me look like I can score blow quicker than Robert Downey Jr.

Robert Downey Jr, now there's an actor. America's alley cat, but hell of an actor.

The Case of Vengeful Sausage/Second Place Again

Friday night I enjoyed what I thought to be a polish sausage and order of cheese fries. I was mistaken. This working man's feast was a toxic voyage waiting to happen. I went to bed with aspirations of one of my favorite holidays pending. Suddenly I wake, doubting what symptoms I feel I move to the bathroom for precaution. Sure enough I vomitted. So began my experience of food poising.

I will spare you from the nitty gritty details of how sick I was. Take it from me, food posioning is as close to going into detox; in my opinion. As I lay on my bed a couple hours before the party shuttle (me) is to get a move on, I wonder what exactly I did to piss God off so much.

The calls from my friends came in, I explained that I would be a game time decision of questionable for this well planned event. What was surprising to me was that when I mentioned I thought it was food poisoning they all asked what I ate. I said a polish sausage. All of them, came back with an "ooh told you so" tone saying "a polish sausage will get you all the time." Since when was one encased meat biproduct more prone to bacterial infection than another? Word to the wise no more polish sausage.

We get to the hotel, sweet as hell- that's how I roll. My friends go out for a snack while I try to die in the room. Once time comes we head over to the bar for the party. Enter the frustration point of my life. I arranged for my friends to come to a place where for 5 hours we can drink all the micro beer or wine we want, eat as much pizza and hang out yet I can't stomach a thing.

To make matters worse, my friend went above and beyond to mention me to one of his girlfriend's single friends. She was there, beautiful, single, smart, likes drinking, personable, and I couldn't bear more than some basic small talk fearing that my body would break down from the food poisoning. I watched her kiss some other dude at midnight and was rendered helpless. It was kind of like when I went into surgery and the sedation made my body unresponsive to what my brain was thinking. Hopefully she didn't really like that guy. My only saving grace with her is that she invited me to a brunch (which I didn't attend for obvious reasons).

The evening was rather anti-climatic for a number of reasons. I was such a spectator to it all. Prior to this night I pondered the attire choices. I know that 90% of the men would be in striped shirts. I was correct. I was not. I almost was going to wear a shirt that said "why aren't you married yet?" That's what I saw last night. Gone are the days when you could look a girl in the eyes and see her looking for someone that can get her another drink and go have fun. Now the majority of the females have the look poised for husbands.

It was only a matter of time before the hunter becomes the hunted.

A Christmas Story

Christmas is back in full effect. Due to the lives of my niece and nephew I am convinced my family single handedly tried to jump start the economy. There were presents stacked three fold. So what do I do? Give them savings bonds. I expect my thank you letter when they can afford one more college book in their freshman year.

I started to feel older finally. Younger people will do that. I do it to my older coworkers and love and so do younger people to me. Sort of a social middle finger to elders.

Dinner at my aunts was only awkward because I finally wasn't at the kid/people who don't know the intricaces of 401k plans table. The best part of the dinner was when my aunt snapped on my grandma and cranked in Readi Whip on her instant coffee because grandma didn't take too well to the flavor crystals of instant coffee. That was the best moment I have witnessed in years at Christmas.

I recommend the Foldgers Latte. Warms the heart and soul.

Naked Women

I am convinced that Heather Graham is one of the most beautiful women that is actually more attractive clothed.

Hillary Duff sure looks like she easily could be Jenna Jameson's younger sister.

Powerful thoughts, I know.

What Concert?

Sorry all, I have been in what the authorities call a car accident. Then to top it off my network has been down for me to write the quality you enjoy reading.

So this past Friday I went to a concert with a couple friends and it was more than memorable. Names are still uncertain in the story as well. After a quick binge at a local bar we hit the venue in time for the headliner. Age showed on our part as we were willing to pay $3 for coat check.

Grabbing a couple more beers we panned the crowd to see what we had gotten into. There was a mix of boppers and clear chaperones. I thought the venue was one of the coolest places I had ever been to but there was a clear problem. We were in the back.

Seats were general admission and plenty of people had locked the place in front of us. Fortunately for us I am 6'5" and was plenty o'drunk. My mentality was a very brash and we deserve it vibe. It worked, since I wrapped it in quick courteousy. I told my friends we should be in the front. Before any discussion I said let's go and we were plowing through the crowd.

Having "a friend up front" is the best story that I thought would take breasts to work. Well, it worked sort of. I was in the clear no one questioned me. My one friend went second and caught a bit of grief. My other friend was third and he caught more elbows and shoving than grief. Some battered more than others we made it. I was five people back from the stage and loving it.

At one point I thought I was the concert. I figured I should be the nimrod to hoist a girl up on my sholders. Now this girl, not frail, nor fat, but she was more than I could bear. I squat down to have her on my shoulders (in a position that sober no one could rise from). As I try to rise, and not spill my beer I fall. Looking to her I rebut "perhaps I am too drunk to handle this."

There is more to this story but the parts I omitted are very much alive. Once caput I will disclose it. Until then, I have one of the best voicemails ever given.

The memories come when friends remind you for the first time.

Stood Up and Loving Every Minute

Last night I was to meet up with the bar fly from two weeks ago after she hit a birthday party for a friend. Alas, she found other opportunities last night and flat out stood me up. Not a problem since I was leaning heavily on the plan of drinking with a friend of mine. However this will add to my reasons of why romance is a fluke to work in your favor. I did enjoy the lessons that she taught me in our brief faux half night stand.

1. I can pick up a girl in a bar, simply sit down talk so that she can't get a word in edgewise so that persistance and desperation summersault over eachother. Then if need be buy a drink for her.
2. The whole ettiquette of not making out in public only pertains to prudes, or people with something called restrain.
3. As easy as they enter, phone numbers can be erased in a cell phone.

Being stood up is great. I see it as a motivation for my next meeting of a woman. First, I will suspect her to be a shady, heartless person. Then I will realize that not all women are like that, and most of the women I base that on were probably on a three month long period. So again, that was my fault. Finally, when all seems to be working out and she stops talking about her family I will let her know of my romantic apprehension. Why? I was stood up recently. Sure that may be a red flag to a girl but most with a common sense of respect will side with the victim- me. Being stood up is the best pity card to play and really allows for us to talk about "what's really important."

Now, that being said I am not so sure any of it will work. See I have this aura to me when out in a bar. I send extra powerful vibes to women that say "I respect your desire for equality. So buy your own drink." I don't like to buy women drinks at bars. Homeless people will chat longer for half as much and at least with them you can already smell the disease they carry.

There are so many ways to find a woman attractive. I remember when I was with the aforementioned gal that night. Shortly after one of the pda's I stopped her passionately, looked her in the eyes and said "wait." She asked why and I looked at her feet. "I don't know if you're aware but the pointier a girl's shoes are the more high maintanence you are." She froze. "Thank God you are wearing round shoes." That is a theory I hold to be in route to being social law.

Fortunately for me I am coming into my own. I know that if I am going to a trendy bar or even a club it is because single women I am going with are wanting to go there and meet new guys. I am alright with the understanding that I am bar ugly. The odds that a girl leaves her place on the prowl for a guy that is pale and lanky with freckles too is absurd. That is why I am proclaiming myself to be house party hot. Give me a few beers, some three month old rap song and five minutes and I will have you somehow captivated. Chances are you are either engaged or dating but you still have that one girlfriend that needs to be dating before she is fully accepted into your circle.

Where is she? Over by the chips and salsa? Jackpot.

Do You Try Too Hard? Exam 1

Look, it doesn't take a union worker to tell us the values of effort. Some folks are putting in overtime on matters that should not be more than a moments thought. They are special people, after all they are quick to scoff if you are not like them. Are you them? Don't worry if you are I very well may still talk to you. (Well, don't come running up telling me you are trying too hard. What am I supposed to do then? Let's avoid the awkward situation, ok?)

1. Do any of your winter hats have a bill? (follow up) Do you have more than one winter hat?
A. If you answered yes, please realize you look like a tool and many people hope you ski like Sonny Bono.
B. If you answered no, don't worry there's plenty of time to go wrong here.

2. Do you own a pair of UG boots and not live in the artic?
A. If you answered yes, for the love of God take them off you winter ho.
B. If you answered no, chances are your pretentious girl is making you buy her some for the holidays.

3. Do you plan on buying the new Madonna CD?
A. If you answered yes, please realize that a 50 year old putting out a club/dance album is a lame as someone buying it.
B. If you answered no, thank you.

4. Do you still recite Dave Chappel lines?
A. If you answered yes, keep it to your fraternity pledge weekends.
B. If you answered no, thank you for remembering Richard Pryor.

5. Do you debate the problems of the BCS system at bars?
A. If you answered yes, get a Jaeger bomb and clue in that only dorks that listen to AM radio care about that.
B. If you answered no, you were probably making fun of the person that said yes.

6. Do you wear long sleeved button down shirts that are striped when going out?
A. If you answered yes, you are every cookie cutter jack hole I see at the bar.
B. If you answered no, chances are you prefer to wear a hoodie; when going to your Magic games.

7. Do you try and bartend/suggest "new" drinks for people when they are out with you?
A. If you answered yes and are not a freshman in college. Let it go.
B. If you answered no that amazes me.

8. Do you go tanning during the winter?
A. If you answered yes and are not a 38 year old divorcee', take off your designer shades and realize how pale we all are.
B. If you answered no, I will see you with the other albinos at the beach in June.

9. Do you read books from Oprah's book club?
A. If you answered yes remember she isn't your friend. And you just made her way rich.
B. If you answered no stay strong you've made it this far.

10. Do you talk about your health club membership or diet more than you use it?
A. If you answered yes I appreciate your influx of initial initiative, for the first three days you were so on top of it.
B. If you answered no well chances are you and your spouse and 2.3 children are doing splendid. But can you really keep it up?

Results- With any of these questions if you answered yes realize you need to back off the social trends and spend time being the obscure person you're running from. Remember the cool kids weren't necessarily the cool kids. They just are the most vocal about how fragile their egos are.

Thank You List '05

In the spirit of the holiday that was skipped over to add just a new level of insult to Native American history, I would like to give thanks to somethings and people that are very important to me.

1. Women who still wear pants without back pockets. Thank you, I know you plan on spending other people's money at least we have something to look at while we think about justifying your purchase.

2. Sprint for selling my current phone number to an Indian man. This makes my life so much easier.

3. Working tomorrow. I would end up playing video games until my bladder could not take it.

4. My bachelorhood. I approach the holiday season being one of few in the circle not having to plan for "their family."

5. The cold. This is my social filter that I love. No matter how skilled you are stillettos can't be worn in the winter.

6. MTV Real World Marathons- Now I can finally watch 7 people get drunk for 10 hours straight from the comfort of home.

7. YMCA- for taking my dues without even trying to give me a guilt trip and ask where have I been.

8. Starbucks and GAP commercials- it may just be this time of year but it's so refreshing to see minorities smile on tv.

9. Countdown Shows- someday I can only hope to be one of the inconsistantly funny comics to review the past year.

10. My harmonica teacher- it took a couple hundred dollars but it's nice to know that I am better than physical appearance allows people think.

Classics Fade Too

I went to the video store because Netflix doesn't give me the superiority complex above other people's movie knowledge or selection. There were a few so called classics that I rented. What made this movie mundane to me was the fact that I was told that I would laugh my ass off. Not true. No matter what the scenario is we will still put up defense mechanisms even if it is for something good. Why? No one likes to admit they can't find something good on their own.

This movie called Blazing Saddles. Relatively funny. There were some bright moments but I am beginning to realize Mel Brooks' humor is very generational and immature. Sure let's push limits I am all for that. I am not in the mood to watch someone who just became old enough to swear infront of their parents. This movie is contigent upon racism. Funny but I think that it needed stronger supporting elements. Maybe the other unsettling feeling I have is directly tied to Gene Wilder. Maybe.

I feel bad that I don't appreciate these classics the way older people do. Some point down the road some kid will not see the value of Swingers for example. Blazing Saddles simply half delivered. Older adults like it because they get to hear racist words and laugh with them like they did in the segregated cafeterias. Let's face it we don't need to put a movie in to laugh about racism. Shock humor is something that I think should be common place but as an accessory. After thirty minutes we are forced to tell ourselves- ok I get it. They're white and they're black. That's comedy.

My petition I guess is for us to find more intelligent race humor as we return from the silliness of the PC world. Same goes for sexism, try not to tell a woman the cliche of "back in the kitchen." That is so played people. Let's stop being our grandpa's holiday dinner table punchlines.

The elderly are drunk off experience and feel like all need to see them brag it out like a second semester freshman. "I remember when some group of (insert any nationality) came to our neighborhood..." I don't know how many times I have sat down to listen about how wrong other nationalities are according to the elderly. Then adults will defend them with "well they are old and are set in their ways." They are set in their ways because no one told their seniors to stop being so ignorant. I respect the elderly just not everything they say.

When I get old I look forward to having grey hair but I sure don't want the sagging, wrinkled flesh. Looking like I am wearing an oversized sweater of me. That looks gross no matter what your skin color.

All That Glitters

The weekend brought on many new tales to tell but there are a few more pressing than others. I did a contest show and didn't win but that was not the big news. Besides having a good set, this was one in a long time since we had a rude crowd. Except they were mainly there for one act. Once they shut up we other comics realized that these guys brought the house with people that don't know how to act at a comedy show.

All we knew is that they were from NU. That's all we needed. Every comic after made comments to mock them into silence. Which was pointless but was a consellation prize for us. My favorite comment made was "I hear that we have a bunch of Northwestern students here tonight, do they teach you manners up there or do you have to pay an extra 30 thousand a year for that?" Well said.

I managed to meet a girl at a bar on Saturday but that was not the big story in my opinion. We ended up at some late night bar in the city and I was approached by another girl. Harmless. She asks me my name. Suspicious. Then she asks for my last name. She is the fall guy for some lame-o. She steps aside to show me that one guy I went to high school was there. So we caught up and that was formulaic but still fun since he was in my opinion a nice guy. Yet a nice guy controlled by dicks at school thus making him a puppet. After saying what I was up to he was supportive and then I reply (power of alcohol) "but since you never bothered to give me the time of day in school, this all doesn't make a goddamn difference now does it? I don't even know why I am fucking talking to you. I think I will go back to talking with that girl I met at the last bar. Take care."

Ironically, he and his girlfriend laughed with me. Honesty is so freeing. He knew it, I knew it too. You don't always have to wait five years for a reunion.

Curtain

White washed necessity
abyssed
in void of end
yet rampid of obscurity
trembeling for reasons
shadows round corners
it works with fists of frustrations
slipping as pressure glares
taunting
for not being more
sterile looks of foreign
thoughts jack knife
busted and steaming these
a velvet drape of insight
concealing rotting potential
thick, heavy, and edged in
manifest tradition
stage is set and
the show must go on
it must
will
&
does

Can It Be Done?

Tomorrow starts the revival of what is commonly known amongst us as tomorrow. I sit hear with my list of things to do this years. We are a bit off the path on those but some are done. Tomorrow I will be embarking on what I could consider an ideal situation. I wake up to go swim for about an hour, then go to work (after showering of course), and then hit an open mic. With a show on Friday and every day with some sort of performing but Thursday, I very well may combust.

If you don't burn out, you certainly will fade out.

~~~~~

I went out on Saturday to an Irish pub wearing a track jacket saying "Dublin." Going home empty handed is not a matter of swagger or moxy but strategic planning to find a drive thru.

Right now I am at a the peak of romantic-thermia. I am surrounded by couples and can't break loose. It stings right now to be the odd integer at the gatherings but I have grown accustomed to being the guy that will wrench teams at the board game nights and leave it up to everyone to reluctantly go boys v girls. Not that anyone but my friend's family plays board games in an open forum.

We went to another bar and that was great. I think we like bars because they are a weekly highschool reunion. In one section we have the cheerleaders turned cosmotologists, the washed up jocks turned salesmen permiate from the urinals to the closest point of Jaeger. The pariahs are now hipsters, no one gets why they are there- still. Damn black framed glasses.

No matter how nice you are when you are in a bar you are equally as judgemental. There is nothing to do in a bar but speculate. I bet she's a slut. No way he is the bitch in the relationship. Check out that cry for attention by the window. Hey bud, how do you do it? How is it that you are the only one in the midwest to tan in November? Oh a salon? Hey look at the hot girl and her ugly friend accessory.

That is a combination that I think is the most overlooked. An emotional support system for lack of attention and over enrollment in sports for each respectively. When girls clearly are hanging with the less attractive it is like doing volunteer work. How do you give back to the community? I let Jamie come out with my friends. Kind of like a habitat for popularity. Come together to help an other socially deprived person live the dream of...having friends.

Don't get me wrong, I believe in integration of the masses. It is just that some are operating with alterior motives. Who's quota do you satisfy?

Riddle 1

Why is it that ATA is going bankrupt?

The Interview

I have subscribed to one of the all time best bathroom reads, Rolling Stone. This current issue on the stand has Bono's mug hawking the cover. I like U2 very much. I would like to know more about them and how they came to be. I would even like to know more about the individuals but is there a way we could turn down the Bono factor?

He has a 7 page interview, which these pages are huge. I would need to take a pack of Immodium AD to be able to have sufficient reading time. The whole thing bothers me for a couple reasons. 1. I just can't finish this damn interview. It's a goddamn Shakespearean interview that has no end. 2. Bono found a way to come off pretentious on paper. Amazing that someone so humble can come off like his great life was an accident. 3. The interviewer can't come off any more naive with the array of questions being asked.

What is our nation's motive with putting U2 on such a high standard? Is there really no one else? With smash success Green Day maybe but no one else can really take the nation's attention like U2. The Stone are a novelty to us all now. We go and listen only to talk about it like some cheap conquest of social levitation. Aerosmith will never be more than a good rock band that is constantly in the shadows of the Stones and now U2.

Are we only fascinated with U2 because of the resurgeance of how cool the 80s were? Is this all just a giant promotion for a VH1 show that will count down something that can't be ranked by people who can't stay off everyone's "who's that?" list? I am lead to believe that like in film we have run out of good ideas for music. Now we are going back to the last great thing and since reliving the 70s would be more than a catastrophe of glam and roller skating we found the 80s again.

Whether U2 is trying or not they are the heirs to rock. The Stones will die once, well maybe in thirty years when being 100 and on tour is assinying.

i-can

I sit writing this blog now officially back in touch with the Jones'. Working this entry while rocking to "Be Yourself" on my new i-pod video. Freaking sweet. I once thought love of inanimate objects was wrong but this sucker is a idealists ticket to hell. It can do it all, except of course explain why the cords need to be white.

This purchase has been eating away at me for months. Months have I had the patience to hold out knowing that someday I would waste the same ammount of money on a fancy date or car payment and opt for a walking juke box. What does this device mean for me? I now can be as pretentious as the rest of the world only with the latest model. Where you at now bitches?!

Something happened tonight that is more exciting than this i-pod. I have been in touch with one of my teachers and I am going to help out with a sketch show that is to the caliber and talent to be pitched, shown, and featured in festivals. Now I won't be the lackey running to get coffee all the time. No, titles such as assistant produce/director have been used. Is this great? Yes. For my family's sake- no still not getting paid for this but that is the test to what you should really do.

So now it looks like my schedule is back up and running now that our show is closing tomorrow. Hitting the open mics three times a week would be clutch, then rehearsal on the show, some gym time and early sleep on Thursday will let me officially burn out on Friday. With all plans set- please don't call me on until 3pm on Saturdays.

No complaints here.

Worth Fighting For

Right now I have plenty to be riled up about. I guess I will start with the good. Recent commercials indicate that there is a revolution in the midst. Shortly the world will be able to finally purchase a lift up bra without padding! Thank you Victoria's Secret. I can't tell you how discouraging it is to pop the top and realize you've been bamboozeld. Ladies, you want an honest man. We don't stuff our pants, unless we're in a band. Please realize false advertisement takes more than the wind out our sails.

Of all things to revolt about, bras are a godsend. We currently are being ravaged with hurricanes, international warfare, and a new Madonna album but finally our cries for some natural support for our inner vixen are being answered. Someone had to step up and be the mature one. Someone needed to say "Hey, you! Stop shooting over oil and trivial religious beliefs that aren't supposed to impact government! Look at these knockers!"

Sure the whole concept of a push up is like bending the truth- they're sagging, more than you and we would like. But hey, men get a pill and women get underwire draped in satin for $45. The irony of it all is the more we are kidding ourselves the more honest we really are.

This is a revolution of effort. Breasts are trying to work their magic one more time to intice someone the honest that was once there, covered up in a cardigan of stale ideals. It's moments like now that we must embrace the movement. Today's headlines show us that by concealing our beauty we are forcing the ugliest side show- greed. How that area is the only place on Earth that would rather make a buck than get some baffels me. A long time ago all the men in the middle east must have been stood up simultaenously causing a sexual backlash. It's not religious persecution, its centuries of blue balls.

It has been said you are liberal until you recieve your first paycheck. I am convinced you are conservative until you have a glimmer of cleavage.

Dawson's Creek Reunion Foiled Again

So let's face it. Just about anyone from that show's prominence is now lacking all forms of credibility.

Josh Jackson/Pacey- He is a slimey guy who falls in love for the daughter of the man he is trying to coax into returning to work. Great predictable storyline. I bet they live happily every after and he ends up writing the story that his then father-in-law should write. It's on the Fox Family Channel to boot. It is official, Ben Savage has more clout in Hollywood than Josh.

Michelle Williams (so sorry I first called her Mary.)/ Jen- Shagged Heath Ledger and I think even married him. Shit I never thought her acting was that great but he bought the whole thing. Meanwhile, I am still waiting for another type of Knight's Tale movie from him.

Kerr Smith/ the gay kid Jack- He is on Charmed, with at one point Nick Lachey. Better off gay man. Better off gay.

Katie Holmes/Joey Potter- At one point I was the prototype to her happiness. She was looking for a tall, funny, and smart guy. Sometimes I am able to throw that all together. Instead she settled for a short, funny- not funny ha ha, and compulsive guy. Chances are I will win an Oscar before Tom. With actions shown in the past six months I am waiting for a joint split and affair between Tom and Brittany. I certainly hope someone will love Katie as more than a high score for their diety.

James Van Der Beek/Dawson- Smart man. He left tv, made two movies. One tanked. The other is Varsity Blues. He ruled during the show, and apparently after. James has left acting for a while to raise his family and watch every new WB show as it tries to replicate the angst, pubecant intelligence, and unnatural eye brow girth that he gave weekly on the show.

Some people like to suggest that nothing lasts forever. If that is true explain reputations.

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.