The Flying Popeshank Redemption

I wish I could tell you that the Flying Popes fought the good fight, and How I Set Your Mother let them be. I wish I could tell that  - but recreational volleyball is no fairy-tale world. They never said who did the beatings, but we all knew. Things went on like that for awhile - rec. volleyball life consists of routine, and then more routine. Every so often, the Flying Popes would show up with a few fresh bruises on their egos. How I Set Your Mother kept at them - sometimes they were able to fight 'em off, sometimes not. And that's how it went for the Flying Popes - that was their routine. I do believe those first five weeks were the worst for them, and I also believe that if things had gone on that way, this rec. league would have got the best of them.

As we sit, waiting for a shot for proving our growth and abilities to the fine administration of Players Sports Group, I can only imagine a regular season exit interview...

PSG:Flying Popes Volleyball, your file says you've played out twenty four games of a seven week regular season. Do you feel you've been competitive?

Flying Popes: Competitive? Well, now let me see. You know, I don't have any idea what that means.

PSG: Well it means that you are inclined or desiring to succeed over all others...

Flying Popes:  I know what *you* think it means sonny. To me it's just a made up word. A commissioner's word so young fellas like you can wear stripes and whistle, and have a job. What do you really want to know? Am I sorry for how we played?

PSG: Well, are you?

Flying Popes: There's not a day that goes by I don't feel regret. Not because we're in the bottom of the standings, or because you think we should. I look back on the way we were then: a young stupid team who committed those terrible unforced errors.  I want to talk to them. I want to try and talk some sense to them, tell them the way things are. But I can't. That young team's long gone and this thirty something is all that's left. We got to live with that. Competitive? It's just a bullshit word. So you go on and fill out your playoff bracket, sonny, and stop wasting my time. Because to tell you the truth, I don't give a shit.

*********************************************************************************************


I find I'm so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it's the excitement only a recreational champion can feel, a recreational champion at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the gymnasium. I hope to see my dad and shake his hand. I hope the banner is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope.

"Chasing My Tail" ep 29: A Disturbance in the Force

"Chasing My Tail" Fat Tuesday

"Chasing My Tail" ep. 27: The Carrie Diaries

"Chasing My Tail" ep. 26 - The Registry

Week 3: Flying Popes' Silver Linings Playbook

We are three weeks into a title defense and the Flying Popes appear to be hung over. The only other collection of highly skilled athletes that seem to be on such different pages are the Los Angeles Lakers. Losing two of three tonight to "How We Set Your Mother" was extra painful as a team chose to be more pun-laden than the actual CBS sitcom itself. Salt, meet the open wound.

Simple unforced errors can attribute to this early season slide. Why really are the Flying Popes unable to pull it together? Pressure to deliver again? Aside from the Popes championship last year, it had been two years since Chicagoans we treated to such a rise to glory. Maybe it's because the court in our peripheral, Team Juicy, were too much a distraction (pure speculation). I'm not sure if they're called Team Juicy but if every woman on your team is in yoga pants or actual volleyball shorts, odds are Team Juicy should be your name. Our season is at a point where we may need to channel our inner Val Kilmer, Tom Cruise and Anthony Edwards. It sure could help pair with the Kenny Loggins stuck in my head.

Taking stock on the evening (it's nearly midnight I am still thinking of this game!) I must say at least I didn't lose my cool and further my attempt to publicly impersonate myself at the age of six. That's progress right? Recently watching Silver Linings Playbook makes me wonder if the Flying Popes plan to get our season back needs to be hit head on with an equally crazy idea, like a grown man drawing parallels between his struggling recreational volleyball team and an acclaimed story of lost man intent on getting his life back together no matter what it takes.

Who knows, maybe next week we should all play in trash bags!? (side note, thank you God, for not having Tom Petty's Free Fallin'  on the soundtrack.)

Flying Popes Week 2: The Promise

Last night the Flying Popes took to the hardwood once again in the early season. The roster is still coming together, as it is likely no other recreational volleyball team in Chicago has experienced this many early season injuries due to hyper extended day job responsibilities. The Popes pressed on.

Week 2 was a familiar match up against the Wasabi Shockers who apparently have a roster deeper than an average elementary school classroom. Games 1 & 2 were super close but both fell to Wasabi. Highlights from the match include Vinnie potentially earning his Flying Pope call sign as "Jazz Hands." Clearly we don't try to over intimidate.  I also had a season high, for on court pissiness. As a 31 year old man, I made it clear to my teammates that as expected, a man-child is in fact a shell of maturity. Perhaps, seeing that we're playing in a church gym, we could get a priest to attend so I can schedule post-game confession regularly.

It's easy to point fingers in a loss. Frankly, I wasn't wearing the appropriate shirt I normally play volleyball in so someone has to tell m'lady that although she got my sweatband through the laundry, the shirt is part of the uniform. Let's not make her feel bad though, she's an avid/obligated Flying Popes fan.

To my team, and Flying Pope Nation I give you this....

THE PROMISE

To the fans and everyone in Flying Popes Nation, I'm sorry. 

I'm extremely sorry. We were hoping for an undefeated season,

that was my goal, something

The Flying Popes have never done here.

I promise you one thing. A lot

of good will come out of this.

You will never see any player in

the entire rec league play as hard

as I will the rest of the 

season. You will never see

someone push the rest of the

team as hard as I will push 

everybody the rest of the season

You will never see a team 

play harder than we will 

the rest of the season.

God Bless.

Flying Popes 2013 Season Preview

Flying Popes 2012 Players Sports 6 Coed Volleyball Champs

Chicago doesn't get the chance to celebrate champions the past few years (or hundred for some yahoos). While most our pro teams play like they're in a rec league, Flying Popes are the rec team that has pro swagger to it. Let's be honest, who doesn't take a team more serious when they step out on the court with red, white and blue sweat bands?

Above is the photo after the 3 seed ran the table and cut down the net (no we didn't PlayersSports, we don't want a fine) last season. Now what? What do the Flying Popes do to keep their focus and not stare up at the rafters of St. Andrew's Church? I'd like to believe budget cuts is the main reason why the Flying Popes Championship banner is still not hanging up. I digress.

The bands are back on our heads creating the minimal intimidation and distraction we planned on. The Flying Popes roster is impressive once again. In the era of rec-league free agency, anything can happen once the season is done. People move, get a dog, or lose the drive to be a top tier athletic specimen, recreationally speaking. Flying Popes return all members of the 2012 title team with the addition/return of the wild card Vincente Lacey. I had to change his name a little because of all his tv commercials, we don't need this season to require security Beiber style. Little does most of Chicago know, but Lacey was integral in the roster creation of the 2012 team.

Having Vinnie on the court is like if Jerry Krause wanted to lace up with Jordan, Pippen, and Rodman.

Week 1 saw a Flying Popes match victory, winning 2-1. As, Alabama football coach Nick Saban says, there's no talk of repeat. Each season is it's own, full of it's own challenges and goals. It's going to take a lot of effort and teamwork, good thing we're wearing those cool sweatbands.

"Chasing My Tail" Dad Pride

www.mikemaxwell.org

Comedian Collaboration Time with Warren B. Hall

When I recently hosted for Chris Kattan at the Improv Chicago, I met comedian Warren B. Hall. He's funny and super cool. Warren has a webseries and asked I help on an episode. It's a game called WhiteMan/BlackMan. Check it out!

"Chasing My Tail": Merry Christmas!

"Chasing My Tail" Ep. 23 Animal Instinct

Chasing My Tail: Ep 22 "Movember to Remember"

Chasing My Tail: Ep.21 Ironically Fashionable

"Chasing My Tail" Ep.19: Self-Promotion/Loathing

Wander Inn, South Bend IN

Chasing My Tail Ep: 18 - Election Burn Out

"Chasing My Tail" ep17: Marathon Man

Rumormill week 7: The Mariah Carey Factor

The fact of the matter is that planning a destination beach wedding is pretty great. Even though it still has the typical annoying parts of planning wedding nonsense, it's on a beach so that sets the tone.

I have to be careful with the ideas that I think pass for suitable for a beach wedding. Many times I've already caught myself thinking of things that essentially are a weak attempt to recreate MTV Spring Break coverage in the 90s. Short of having a fashion show w/ Limp Bizkit in the middle of our reception, I think I've thought of it all.

I recently suggested to m'lady that her procession to our beach wedding be something special to the location but also with a fine bit of excessive self righteousness that sums up our generation so well. Now, my idea is not necessarily contingent upon her going Pam Anderson and wearing a white bikini. In fact for direct replication it will need to be the color, honey.

How cool would it be for the father of the bride and bride to make their procession via jet ski? A la Mariah Carey in the hit jam "Honey."

As the video shows, a beautiful woman on a jet ski doesn't get a drop of water on her as she evades a squad of assailants or even spinsterhood. However, the inspiration from Mariah Carey stops short of any singing. Neither of us should punish our guests that way.

Chasing My Tail: Ep 16 'All Grown Up'

Rumormill Week 4: Guess Who Guest List!

Nearly one month into the bliss known as wedding planning and we are getting things going. It seems there is a direct correlation between progress and parental stressers to "think of your guests." Compromise to make parents happy in the planning of a wedding seems to be as old fashioned as say the bride's family footing the bill. There's nothing more significant than the guest list. Well, open bar is the most important, then guest list.

I am excited that m'lady and I are on the same page. These events can get out of hand when parents decide they get to use their kid's wedding to restore balance to the force and invite a friend of theirs so they have to give a gift too. We don't care about that.

One simple rule has been agreed upon for the guest list. If in our 5 years together, we've not met someone, their not invited. Seems cold but it's either that or play a version of the hit 1980s board game of "Guess Who" parental friend style.

-Does your mom's friend have facial hair?
-No. (minus 4 people)


-Does your mom's friend know my last name?
-No. (minus 12 people)


-Has your mom's friend ever shown up to our annual day at the horse track?
-Yes. (minus 6 people)


-Does your mom's friend go to garage sales with her?
-Yes. (minus 1 person)

Ok, let's invite Rick!

Ep. 14 "Chasing My Tail" - Wedding Planning

Rumormill Week 3: The Great Matrimony Montage

I think we just attended our last wedding before our own. That being said, wait there are still three magnets on the fridge of people dressed really nicely (and naturally staged I must say). Fact: m'lady has a spreadsheet. Well, sure we have a spreadsheet for our venue ideas. I don't know what we are going to do but I think when faced with uncertainty on getting to your goal do what Hollywood does...do a montage.

What's a Matrimony Montage?
A matrimony montage is a term I just made up (believe it or not) so fortunately, our parents can't tell us how to do it right, or within the guidelines of 'etiquette.' M'lady & I have been together for almost five years. In those five years we've been to so many weddings we're able to help our dry cleaner put on that much dreamed of addition to his home.

I have an idea. Let's take a piece of every wedding we've been to and make a save the date montage?! That's a great way to show
1. I can pay attention
2. I can finally use those Jordan almonds in my globe box.
3. What better way to tell everyone not only are we in love, but when you condense nearly five years of courtship into  three minute video, even Ryan Gosling may cry from joy.

Why a Matrimony Montage?
* We're in the digital era people, hard copy reminders are good but I fear so many people will want a save-the-date magnet from us that it could interfere with the Earth's gravitational pull. Thus, to save humanity from a real-life Jerry Bruckheimer experience (with or without Liv Tyler) we go digital.

*  Facebook. Sure, it's nice to post ring pics, status updates about planning or eating cake samples, but there is something that no one has wanted before our generation and Facebook is integral in accomplishing it-make your wedding go viral! Self importance, vanity, and the perpetual threat of just "one special day" year(s) out just isn't enough anymore. We can post and repost this montage of love and you can't avoid it. It'd be like those pictures you post of (well your kids but I guess they're adorable, don't think this is personal) never mind.

When a Matrimony Montage?

That I don't know. At this moment, you've given it more thought than m'lady (If my term of endearment is to have a presumed accent, then I choose one from the motherland!). Contract talks with half of the cast are still quite far a part on terms of agreement. That being said, I know the 50% of the cast that are already on board love this idea and hope their family and friends start asking m'lady on Facebook when they can expect the mother of all e-Harmony commercials.

2 Weeks in: An Engagement in Review

Two weeks ago I decided to finally propose to my girlfriend. We have been together nearly five years and people we on me to ask her more than anyone trying to get Romney's tax returns. I can't really explain, nor could anyone before me explain how amazing it feels right now. Then again we are two weeks into the lovefest and no checks have been written. This is the highest concentration of dreaming two people can ever do.

I am hoping that within the engagement process, I can reduce the stress of planning by creating rumors to distract family and friends. Maybe we will consider these ideas, maybe we won't.

Rumor 1: Beach Wedding...Toga Party Theme

1. I have only been to one toga party in my life and it was for some lame fraternity when I was a freshman. A Wisconsin toga party is what you'd imagine. Kids wearing bed sheets with tractors on them, or some nimrod using the fitted sheet.
2. Let's register for some nice Egyptian cotton sheets, sandals and take it from there. Why should the bride be the only one in white?
3. The Isley Brothers deserve this.  Perhaps the most famous toga moment in American history is because of their iconic song. Is it cliche at a wedding? Maybe but so is a lot of stuff (this blog is old, borrowed, new AND blue). It's my favorite song played at weddings why? It is the song that gives the old people their last hurrah on the dance floor and tells the next generation 'it's bout to get crazy (for white people) in here!
4. How else can we eliminate the nonsense of 'what do I wear?' for the guests. Hell, I bet that when you've been drinking for hours and are already wearing bedding, you'll find the beach a more welcoming destination than your hotel bed.
5. Weddings are often have this undertone of making the bride out to be a princess or a queen. That's absurd. Not only is this a slight to the groom, but it's inaccurate. Wearing togas embody the image of a bride and groom as Emperor and Empress. A princess rarely has the opportunity to make decisions for the masses. On the other hand,  an empress or emperor, now that's their job...and they're pretty good at it too.

"Chasing My Tail" Ep. 12: Engaged

"Chasing My Tail" Ep.11: Olympic Pride

Here's my 2nd Olympic comic.

"Chasing My Tail" Ep. 10

Gold Medal, Silver Lining.

Chasing My Tail ep9: Badge of Irony

Here's my take on the recent stand by the Boy Scouts of America. I used to be a Cub Scout but never crossed into the Boy Scouts. (just an fyi)

Chasing My Tail Ep. 8: Beautiful Imperfections

Chasing My Tail Ep 7: Campaign Irony

Chasing My Tail Ep 6:

Midwestern Values

Chasing My Tail Ep 5: The Bachelorette Party

"Chasing My Tail" Ep4: Point-Counterpoint

In honor of the Chicago 2012 NATO Summit.

"Chasing My Tail:" Are You Mom Enough?

Here's another installment of my comic "Chasing My Tail."

"Chasing My Tail" - Let it Go!

Here's the second installment of my new comic strip "Chasing My Tail."

Chasing My Tail: "Oh the games we play"

I am early on in developing a comic strip. It's called "Chasing My Tail."

From the Bottom of My Wallet

Saturday night I went out to a charity event and had a great time. Well, nearly a great time. I was unable to get any form of food there since they were serving appetizers that only Derek Zoolander would enjoy. Fast forward to the drive home where I realize it's late but I should eat something.

I go into a parking lot for Little Caesar's pizza, it's midnight and they've just closed. The taco stand next door is open. We run inside place an order and while they're cooking it the chefs ask if I've parked on the right side. I reply I think so. Nope. Being in there for less than ten minutes some dude put a boot on my car.

Immediately upon confronting me, he begins to record our conversation probably because people hate call centers and this is a call center guy who can't land the call center job. His job is to remain hidden in a dark parking lot and then when people get out to grab food while the Little Caesar's is closed, boot their car. This man proudly boasted that he can boot a car in 35 seconds. I told him that's almost as fast as I can loose respect for someone.

Of course like any ticket/violation, I try to get out of it. It's mid-night in Chicago and I am wearing a suit. I explain we've just come from a charity event and apologize for taking a space on the "wrong side" of the parking lot. In this era where it seems like everyone gets about a dozen hand outs a year, I was hoping to gain some form of a pardon.

It never happened. So $140 later I had the most expensive burrito in my life. What did I learn? Aside from my attention to detail must be heightened in the late hours? Parking lot attendants have one of the worse career choices ever. Who can honestly go through a day let a lone weeks or years at a job where it's your responsibility to ruin some one's day?

I am going out on a limb here and guessing that the majority of parking lot attendants working night shift/weekends are bitterly processing a break up.

WGN-720 AM Interview of Mike Maxwell by Jim St. Augustine

Recreationally Superior

10 years ago I was enjoying my time at Ripon College. I was once invited to be apart of something very special. I was asked to join Ken & Leo's team of perennial champions for indoor soccer. I don't know how I was blessed to be on such a stacked team. We cruised through the regular season to a top seed for the playoffs. As we neared my illusive "Intramural Champion" T-shirt, we suffered a devastating loss in the playoffs. It was brutal. I spent years of trying to balance academics with occasional athletic competition to only come up empty again. Was I destined to be the Karl Malone or Dan Marino or the rec sports world?

Many people like to say "time heals all wounds." It may be a stretch but "forgive, never forget" seemed to transcend more for me on this matter. A decade past and I have to be honest with myself. "At 30 years old, is my recreational sports career over?" How could I explain to my nieces and nephews that there was not much glory in my day, just great sportsmanship?

God sure works in mysterious ways. (Sorry to go Tebow-light on you there.) I caught up about 4 years ago with a friend, Vinny, who was the General Manager youth ministries at a church. After getting drafted (not sure if there were any other calls placed) in the first round for the flag football season, I helped the team to a "prestigious" 2-7 season. We lost a great man (Gabe) to a knee injury mid-season and also a few of the women players suffered season ending injuries/babysitting conflicts. We then ventured into indoor volleyball, where against the odds we finished the season with a respectable record and one playoff win. The off season was draining. Where do we go from here? Are we a team? Will everyone be back? We have the talent but do we have a team?

There was no way we could enter as a pre-season favorite to win it all. No way. Although a few key acquisitions of talented free agents added enough excitement around the league. We played our game, Flying Popes volleyball. That took us to a strong record and a #3 seed in the tourney. We knew it was possible, but it wouldn't come easy. Our playoff run resumed last night. The Flying Popes, in their first Final Four appearance, against the #2 seed, TFC. After, edging them out 2-1 in the match, the Flying Popes felt that perhaps we were on the verge of greatness.

I remained with a tempered enthusiasm. The tragic memory of that misdirected goal 10 years ago on the soccer field was at the front of my mind during the intermission. Sure, there was pressure but only for our opponents. It was like a Robert Redford movie mixed with a Kevin Costner movie topped off with some Gene Hackmanesque moments. There was just too much fate. The Flying Popes diligently took care of business and swept the finals against the Jet Setters.

We won. Champions. I was a champion. After a decade of struggle, I was presented with a black long sleeve shirt that reads "Players Sports Group Champions." I've always wondered what it was like for Jordan to clench the trophy after Game 5 in 1991. I've never been so humbled by such a marvelous thermal shirt.
The ref immediately congratulated us, then at the championship shirt presentation ceremony the questions began to fly. "Are you guys coming back next season?" "Are you going to step up to the B League?" "Where do you go from here?"

Where do we go from here? Where do I go from here? I've just achieved what appears to be a lifelong dream, to be recreationally superior to my peers. What does anyone in the face of triumph do? Reflect.

Will I be back? I don't know. Why not go out on top? How much longer will I have the drive and competitiveness to keep me at the top of my recreational game? I think it's best to say I need time. Time to reflect on these memories forged over this improbable season. Maybe I'll just take the next couple weeks to spend time with my family and friends, hopefully just get back to a normal life. Time to recharge, focus on what Mike needs. It's safe to say, I am proud to be a Flying Pope. I hope to finish my recreational career a Flying Pope. Is that up to me? I'm not sure. I've made some great friends over the years as a Flying Pope and I certainly expect those friendships to long outlast my days in uniform/sweatband. I'd like to think the recreational sports system is not as bottom line driven as it's counterparts but if a tough decision is needed I certainly wouldn't stand in the way of the organization's future.


I certainly won't let this go to my head, that would be ridiculous. No one wants to be around someone who takes them self too seriously.



Mr. Butter Face

There's that old expression that 'slow and steady wins the race.' Well, that's nice and all but that is a cushion for slow people whose parents or teachers are hoping to God that something else in life distracts them from wasting their life with a 'dream.'

Dreams vary for people of course. Dumb point Mike, what else? I've had some time to get my adult life moving in effort to land some of these 'dreams.' Time passes and then you revise said dreams and end up with goals. These 'goals' are things that typically are less damaging to the ego when you miss out on them, after all, goals are something that hangs over you professionally so personally they can suck an egg if they must.

I've dreamt of someday being in great shape. If I were to get into amazing, toned, muscular shape I could be the epitome of male butter faces. I think that growing up in the Midwest, with my dad reminding me to be realistic, that I aimed right on mark to one day be a butter face. Well, I graduated college, not in shape. Time went by and now I maintain a fitness regimen due the pending rivalry between denim's spacial capacity and my stomach's inclination to never let go of the mass quantities of pizza I eat.

I no longer dream of being a male butter face. I have a goal of one day winning a rec league title. There is something to be said about the struggle between my friends and I against other people our age to gain validation as the most qualified recreational human in a particular sport. I've been on winning teams in gym class, how is this still an obsession of mine? Maybe life would be different if upon completing a memorable run to gym class champions, the teacher/coach let us know it's perfectly fine to not be humble in this moment, the rest of our life will silence us soon enough.

Sounds About Right: My 1st Comic Strip

I've been inspired by friend & fellow comedian Dale Zawada to use the simple yet direct Rage Maker comic strip template. Dale's 'Adventures in Comedy' is personally one of my favorite things that is done weekly by a comedian. I hope to follow suit with my own comic. "Sounds About Right" is an expression my brother and I would say constantly growing up when life basically punched us in the face. Perhaps, "Sounds About Right" is the rich man's "it is what it is" in regards to surrendering to some absurd B.S. I hope you enjoy it, share it and come back for more personal stories drawn out.

Pan-handled in the Loop

I've worked in Chicago going on three years now. Some of my fondest moments are of helping others in this city. However, let's be honest making the same commute and seeing the same pan-handlers in the same spot for years is an odd social commentary.

The best pan handler out there is the musical pan-handler. Now conventional wisdom says, if one is going to show they're really seriously in need, forgo the string section and hit up the brass or woodwind section. I fear that someday I may be a father and my child will want to have music lessons. No problem as long as they stay away from the saxophone. There seems to be only 2 paths of the saxophone; jam band member or headlining during rush hour on a bridge or under it for that matter.

I walked by a guy jamming the 'Bear down Chicago Bears' song on the sax and it was a nice touch to a long work day. It was getting cold as the sun set but no excuses, he did stumble a bit. Now he's telling us that not only does he need cash, a job, and a warm place to stay, but some lessons wouldn't hurt either. By far, the best musical pan-handler in Chicago is on the Madison Street bridge from about 4-6p. He rocks out on a couple drums. Seeing the state of our economy, I will never judge one's perspective on what qualifies as a legitimate 'investment opportunity.' Odds are his returns will be ten fold to any social security for my generation.

Yesterday I found myself in an odd position. I was cashing a check. I went in to a bank and felt like it was 1997 again. The 'personal bankers' at Chase are pacing around worse than a shady car salesman. As I am endorsing the check I am approached by an elderly woman who rocks my world. 'Can you spare a dollar?' Wait did I just get pan-handled in a bank? In a bank? Either you're oblivious or an innovator. It makes perfect sense to me. Everyone says 'sorry, I don't have any change.' When you ask them right at the ATM what else can we say besides 'I'm sorry I don't have...well I guess I don't care.'

Stronger than Volcanic Rock

Yesterday I took up the offer of an very expensive tennis club to let me join morning cardio tennis class for free. What a work out. I know I'm in need of cardio help when the warm up cashes me out. I had a blast and did pretty well I must say.

During the session we did drills and some basic games that were flashbacks to high school tennis. What's great is that the rest of the regulars know each other and may be able to out skill me most of the time. Enter my overhead smash. Nothing like seeing older people take steps back as I wind up to make them dance like a cliche western movie scene.

The end of the class had the pro paired with me and I smashed the winning point. Don't worry I'll told my parents already of my awesomeness. I was happy to end on a winner but then looked to see that I have cracked/bent my racket on both sides of the face. I'd like to think the good people at Wilson make quality rackets at all levels and that I perhaps am too strong for "volcanic formula" rackets. Where do I go now? What's stronger that a composite from magma? Maybe Wilson is making rackets out of recycled spaceships? I could certainly take Apollo rackets to new levels on the amateur scene.

I am in awe that such physical domination was displayed at 8:00am after Christmas, without my sweatband set. I and my ego now look for the next challenge to break us. Not likely knowing a "Wonder Years" marathon is out of the question.

Adults for Sledding Equality

I am entering my third consecutive year where I see myself leading a cause that many ignore. Typically every January I gather about a 6-10 friends to go sledding at a big ol' hill. Sounds pretty great? Yeah it's something amazing. See the beauty about sledding as a kid is the thrill of hitting a bump catching air but there's was a problem for my generation. We were not fat kids.

Now that I have more than a healthy body mass I can pick up speeds that rival my 4th grade fastball speeds. I'm talking some sick speeds. I hear kids wishin' they could ride like me, be heavy like me, wipe snot on their gloves like me. Fools.

The problem is that my friends and I are always the only people who can drive themselves to the hill without any kids. Who needs kids to have a good time? Huh? When did we get to a point in our lives where we said you know what would be great about this nostalgia? Throwing in some little money pit that hounds attention worse than I do. Not on my watch. When the AWOKs (Adults With Out Kids) go out we know how to steal the show.

Kids want to be us, parents want to be with us.

Sh!t or Get Off the Pot

One of the wisest things ever said to me was my dad once saying "if you don't make a decision, life will make it for you." Pretty impressive seeing as his advice while growing up seemed to be peppered like Leap Year. I push onward through the final days of me being a socially screw up. The 20s are all about making mistakes so adults say. That being said, on behalf of my generation I feel it's safe to say we're screwed.

I have a friend that I swear is my personal Benjamin Button. I don't get to hang out much anymore with him and the stories I hear are regressing in the social norms we used to reach to do. I won't be surprised if I get to see photos on Facebook of his fort made in his parents' basement with bedsheets. I would also be the most jealous of that nonsense.

My family is molting layers of responsibilities worse than the tragic night scene in Gremlins. There comes a point where the adult table of life thins itself out and there's room to bring in a newbie. Someone that will refresh the cycle of errors and give the sigh of relief to the predecessors for they weren't wrong, it's a right of passage.

That's what maybe is the toughest pill. Failing to follow the path worn by other is a mistake, for whom I won't know until I admit I'm done.

Sweet Sweet Music

There is something special when it comes to those that are unfortunately down on their luck. They have most likely gone through some of the toughest things I can only imagine. I really wish I had the time to understand what happened but to be frank, that's just too idealistic and we all know that only works on English class essays.

What is it about while losing it all that we grab one thing to be the cornerstone of our new foundation? If your house were to burn down what would you grab? So to speak. Outside from my dog, an tangible item I would take from my house? Probably a copy of my home owner's insurance policy.

When you walk the streets of a major city in the winter time it's depressing at times. There are so many people on the streets without a place to turn. However, there are people in this situation that have a sense of humility that is just fantastic. The homeless musicians of America.

Is the saxophone the unofficial instrument of the homeless community? Perhaps people should be a bit more leery when their kid is in jazz ensemble. You know sweetie, if you hit the bricks, the rush hour commute sure will love to hear this alto sax. I guess that's the thing being said when your kid picks an instrument;
guitar- "I need all the help I can to get laid."
piano- "I can't say no to you mother."
saxophone- "isn't it cool under this viaduct?"


As much as people in Chicago rave about bland groups like Wilco, I'd much rather spend $20 and see the kids outside the Art Institute rock on with the drum buckets.

Where's the Love?

It's that time of year again where we all bundle up next to each other as we walk by the homeless guy with the Starbucks cup. I like the holidays, kind of. There used to be a time where they were a lot of fun. Then I became the one who doesn't have kids and now I shuttle all over to view the effectiveness of fertility in my family.

Kids are great*. What is magical about kids is that they don't care if they are playing with an expensive toy or shooting rubber bands at each other they just want attention. What is really magical about kids is how they bring out the compromises in their parents. As an innocent bystander I realize that when you're a parent you give everything you can for your kids, otherwise you're an asshole. No really, I believe that if you go to bed at night thinking "wow, that wasn't too bad" while raising kids you probably aren't raising them. There is a nice trade off about having the kids and that's training them to be little house cleaners.

As I go to half a dozen homes this holiday season, I know there will be one key question on everyone's mind. "Where's the ring?" See, people are happy to see people together but like a tv show this shit has to keeping progressing. I am at the point in my relationship where people are wondering...well...when...Settle down people. The way that it's not cool to ask a fat lady when she is due or an old person if they have chosen their retirement home, don't ask when a couple is getting married.

Some may look at it with a BS sports metaphor of talking to the pitcher during a no-hitter. No. It's just none of your damn business. Since when are people excited to put sack up $150 for a country club dinner. The best person asking me about my relationship is my dad. I am almost thirty and he still hasn't given me "the talk." So when he wants to know if I am to sh!t or get off the pot he just asks "So how's that goin'?" Effective in his own way.

Another field condition is the blocker. I lost my blocker. The blocker is the couple in the family who is "ahead" of you in the line of engagement/marriage. You can tell they are doing a great job when you get out of a family outing only hearing about it once or twice. Who runs out of a single back formation? A jackass that's who.

It's going to be hard to not get knocked on my ass.

Flying Popes - Week1

I had a goal of mine since graduating high school. Play football better than I did freshman year. Fortunately for me I set the bar as low as possible back in the day. As I approach the third decade of my life I realize that I am finally hitting my stride, as a consistently sufficient rec sport player.

My friend asked recently for me to join a co-ed flag football team. I jumped at the chance to prove to myself and dad that I was under utilized in freshman football. Last week was game 1 and for not ever playing together we did well.

We are the Flying Popes.

Upon walking to the first offensive huddle we really made a big stride. "Who's QB?" See with that type of open communication how could we not triumph in our first game? Well, it appears that our opponents were well versed in each other's talents. The popes learned on the fly.

I may have pulled off the award for most body surface covered in Under Armor. We found ourselves down at the half and with no statistian available for us, perhaps as many penalty yards as offensive yards. We do have great defense, except on the two score we let up but hey, it's rec league.

I was honored to be QB for a portion of the game. You know there's a filter missing when you explain a play via "Madden" experience. Based on that the team is looking forward to my dynasty model I boasted at half time. I did geek out so much about this season I went and geared up. New cleats (oversized bc I am too susceptible to Marshall's prices) and under armor pants and long sleeve were donned as I looked like someone who frankly, knew what he was doing. Wrong. If you buy one thing the wrong size, don't make it the shoes. I was sliding around before I picked up my feet.

We eventually scored but it wasn't enough to win (20-7). There is something wonderful about this game. It's great to have people support you blindly to run or scramble and then immediately understand that you weren't embellishing when I said I run like a donkey.

Flag football allows us to run around like a bunch of kids at recess and then go get beer. Where is there a problem with this? I see an epic game one fine evening when an early winter storm drops snow on our turf. My only hope is to get enough notice for a camera crew.

Fair but tough questions

I think there is so much going on in across the globe let alone the land of the free that we are avoiding the obvious questions because we don't want to hurt feelings of people that well, are probably on the ropes.

1. Who the hell in their right mind wants any fish for ummm years after a castrophy like the BP spill?

I have been to the Gulf coast and thought it was a fun place as a kid. This place is a trainwreck to say it nice. You have chronic poverty then Katrina and now a oil bath (spill is a polite term when you fix a mess in less than a whole damn season!). Recently I heard on the news that a small portion of the Gulf is open to fishermen. Good to get them back to work.


2. Why are people still lining up to live near or swim in a tri-state toilet?


I love Chicago very much and find almost all of it to be best I've ever seen. Almost. We as a city just can't get enough of the wonder that is Lake Michigan. I agree it's beautiful and calming and even at times blue. However, it is chronically closed for contamination reasons. People bring their kids and pets to this awesomely huge lake and it's sooo dirty the government says "shit man, stay out of the water!" Why? Shit. There is so much downstream and Chicago pollution from our own nastiness we can't go into a GREAT LAKE! That's like hitting it off with some smoking hot man/woman and only to take them the border of Pleasureville and find that they've been slumming it with a nasty even a carnie wouldn't tap. Meanwhile people constantly buy "lakefront property."

3. How is it anyone can make a politician their personal savior/hero?

The current level of political awereness is the best bronze medal to the worthless government leadership in the past ten years. I appreciate my government and the majority of the services rendered to us as a naition. Living in Chicago I have a privelage that not most in the nation have. We see bullshit politicians everywhere. It would impress me if there were more ethical than unethical politicians currently serving. In Illinois we are working on a steady careerpath of governor to inmate. When we were kids teachers let us know that politicians were people to look up to. The battle between two parties is a joke. Any belief in one over the other is as though chosing the highway over side roads during rush hour. There is no winning. At best there is less losing.

If I at some point hurt your feelings congrats on not being numb, yet.

7 Year Plan: Canine SVU

7 Year Plan: Canine SVU

Canine SVU

I feel as though its fair to say that I have trust issues. Nothing all that uncommon for a moderately young person. However, my compulsion has now worn into my one level of responsibility that I never though would change. My dog.

It's wierd on many levels to admit that I send my dog once a week to a "doggie day care." Whenever people hear that they immediately think I'm some fool that drives a Volvo sportwagon. Not true. I just have a dog that was in need of rescue and now needs to chill with other dogs.

Enter the problem. The site owner is awesome. One of the best dog people I know. One day she tells me that everything went well. In fact, we made friends today. Great news right? I imagine hearing that my (girl dog) has made friends with Trixie, Belle, or Kelly Clarkson. This moment in time is something I imagine an actual father fears. Bonnie told me that my dog made friends with Bo and Harry. BO and HARRY! Are you kidding me? My dog is nearly 1.5 years old. Who matches such a young dog up with boy dogs so early?

I immediately rush to judgement that Bonnie is covering for the antics of the day. Did Bo and Harry rape my dog? After all she is young and let's be honest here how does a dog say no? It's hard to give a crotch shot when that crotch is up your butt. She's just too young to be doggie raped! It's statchatory doggystyle!

They grow up fast and in the case of dogs, way faster than you control. Thank God at least you can still crate them when they get older.

Yes Dear.

As time has passed in my relationship that defies all rules I set up when floating in bachelorhood I have begun to realize that in affairs of the heart I am the worse negotiator. Ever.



Rule 1. House cats will never live in my house.

It has been almost two years of the most worthless animal God created living in my house. Women and countless gay men disagree about why cats have value. First and foremost I am lectured for hours if I forget to flush the toilet. What if I decided to just crap in your shoe box on the floor? Cats instinctly cover their "waste." Not Fur-turd (my appointed name). She actually paws the litter out on the floor so the stink can really mature for the month long quest to see if I vomit in my own bathroom without the help of food poising.



Rule 2. You can make friends as you please, on Facebook.

It came to my attention late Saturday after my girlfriend and a couple pitchers of margaritas hung out with her BFF. There is a revelation that is destined to every set of female girlfriends. Our boyfriends should be friends.
Although this bedroom-laced incentive plan is an easy plan to draw you need to ensure there are some common ground. Fortunately there is for us. We both love video games and not having to go out to bars unless forced by birthdays and “in-town” friends. We both think each other has douche bags for friends. Let it be known guys keep a douche bag friend around for the same reason there is a token ugly/fat girl in your click. We want to look better too. Forcing this relationship is expected. I am impressed it took this long to happen in my world. I just need to get better about my fantasy sport lingo so we don’t ever bring up the topic of engagements and wedding.


Rule 3. Sorry is a word designed by women for men to use.

Life and love and bonded together by three little words. I am sorry. I used to get mad about how much I said sorry in life in general. Then I found myself in a long term relationship and wow, I am shattering all sorts of apologetic records. It’s not like we are plagued with arguments or anything. There are just things you would like to run a bit smoother and you “discuss.” A real non-earthshaker is making the bed. Right? I feel like I am in the movie “the Prestige” with Christian Bale because I bring a simple point and request to the table and without breaking a sweat I am ending wondering how the hell I went from asking for help to asking for pardon on initiating such a conversation after the royal flush of female cop outs – the “long day.” I believe women manage to have long days when they realize it’s a couple weeks from their period and can’t use that to silence their spouse. Life and love are full of challenges that often we don’t want to face head on. Well, I am not the gym teacher of life excuses. Without further delay, I am sorry.

Part of me is curious to why we don’t have a female president yet. I don’t know if they would fare any better but I certainly believe there would be a lot less excuses and more press conferences begging for forgiveness.

The Eve of Crossroads

Holy crap life has moved so fast that I am not even worried about my age getting to be 29. See that's what's swell about being a guy. We have statistical evidence that we tend to get the better end of the aging dilemma. I would be pumped about that but it's not like my last name is Clooney.

What bothers me is that I have only 365 more days to make some essential mistakes in life. The thirties is for coming into your own and being a man/adult. The twenties is for you to constantly screw up like you did as a teen but this time with bills. I am excited to be thirty. Frankly I just want to get through the next year healthy, beat some video games and have some great stage time.

What are some fun mistakes to make before thirty.
1. take a horrible vacation
2. grow a beard
3. try to bring back muscle tee's
4. get a second dog - already named "Chewy"
5. find vegetables and salads I enjoy to eat
6. go back to apply for my first job at the movie theater again
7. buy season tickets to Northwestern football.

One Armed Man & Other Quick Hits

It has been three weeks since I broke my right wrist. I can't count the number of times women have seen me with a cast up yo my arm yet still expect me to get the door for them. Yes their latte is more important than my arm. Perhaps the half pump of skinny vanilla will ease their eyes from looking at their unringed finger.

I helped hold the door for a lady who had done well bringing more than she could carry, the door closed on my hand/cast and she gave me a look like I gave her the bird.

That being said, if a guy doesn't get the door for you odds are you didn't bring the A-game today.

Almost time for my family to pretend we are religious so we can eat together for Easter.

Miami airport has a giant foor mural of a hurricane. Seriously? Can't wait for the O'Hare pedway to be illuminated by the Chicago Fire mural.

Relationships are set upon wth rules, until you get on a dance floor. Then baby vertically dry hump a stranger all you want. Relationship diplomatic immunity.

Birth control pills - for such a large mistake that pill is sure small. Look so convenient you can swallow it while laying on your back!

New Year...Still at it.

I prefer to wait about three weeks into the new year before I go back to the gym. It helps me to not get attached to the people who are giving their ab bench/seat/rollers at home a break. I by no means am at the apex of physical discipline nor physique but I can enjoy watching the hamsters on the treadmill watch a Burger King commercial.

The anatomy of my gym is pretty special. We have a mix of moms who just can't shake that baby weight before the graduation, dad's that think they are in their high school gym and should max out to impress their unemployed pals and then my favorite people, the jean crew.

Who comes into the gym to workout in a pair of jeans? Is that remotely comfortable to anyone? It's not a matter of being some weird fashion person but jeans people, come on! The only way their workout could get worse is corduroy.

A couple weeks ago I suddenly worked harder on my cardio. A man joined the elliptical machine next to me and he had only one leg. This guy was is so much better shape than me and the fact that he had such a difficulty to overcome not only inspired me but told me to suck it up.

I will always hold a special place in my heart for the women that know their work out has paid off and proceed to run on the treadmill in their sports bra. Yes I look. More than once do I look. Where else besides a "Seinfeld" archive can we see a woman where her bra in public and we all agree- great idea? I am sure some people or other girls specifically find the sports bra to be a bit, well not as fantastic as I do.

It is not every day you see such a sight then of course it only a mirage.

Wish List 2009

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

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

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

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

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

Shoe Shine King v. My Coworker's Vagina

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's It! I'm Done.

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

Coworkers Say the Darndest Things

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

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

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

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

Old Timer's Club

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One more day until I buy Bayer

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

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

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

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

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

"Adults" Only

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

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

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

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

Four Legged Alarm Clock

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

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

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

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

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

Summer in the City - a 2009 Thank you note

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

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

Corporate Vietnam

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

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

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

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

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

The Man's Push Up Bra

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

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

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

Pink, Classy, Sexy, Lunchables

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

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

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

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

Ruffles and Rubbers

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

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

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

Marriage Material; Structurally Unsound

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

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

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

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

Hold on tight ladies, prenups are slippery.

Fire v. Fire

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

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

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

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

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

Even Gang Bangers Hurt in Recession

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

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

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

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