Saturday, July 22, 2006

Hangovers past and present

I fell asleep about 6am today and woke up at 9am when my crazy ass alarm clock woke me up. I had the sense to stay in bed until about 10am when my phone rang. I was wide awake and felt better than I have in weeks. I think that may have been due to the still positive alcohol level in my bloodstream. I level I believe has since dropped because the "where the hell were you last night" headache has started. Luckily there is Ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet and Wicker Park Summerfest starting in 10 minutes approximately 6 blocks from my apartment.

While scanning a previous blog just prior to deleting it forever I found this and thought I would share.

Is it possible for your body to be wide awake but your mind still be asleep? My legs are bouncing up and down like I'm on speed but my mind won't move. I know I have a million things to do today but I can't think of a one. And I am not sure I want to.

I not very fond of wakes, funeral services and the like. I am not sure anyone is, but I am really not sure what to say to the family of the deceased. Especially if I don't know them well. I saw someone I haven't seen in 15 years, a paramedic I used to work with. I also found out that Rico's cousin went to high school with Dennis. It really is a small world.

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Afterwards Brother and I stopped at the local Irish pub for some food and drink, except the kitchen had closed fifteen minutes before so it was just drink for us. During the first drink I didn't think I would stay long. But then brother was nursing his drink so I had to have a second one to have something to do while he finished his first. Then before I could say anything he ordered a second, and because my glass was empty as well I had to order a third. Which is the point where I think someone yelled, "And they're off". And off to the races we were. If you put my brother and I together for any period of time, especially if there is alcohol involved, we are going to start talking about whatever goofy shit comes into our heads. And you won't be able to shut us up. Except for when we are laughing. Which is about half the time. We made friends with the bartender. And almost friends with the owner.

Things I learned last night:

I out drink my brother at rate of 3/2 if not 2/1. Bartender Rick pours really strong drinks. Chekvar is the name of a beer. Don't run from cops, it is a really bad idea. I already knew that one but the videos on TV confirmed it. There is no good substitute for just plain luck. It is usually not a good idea to start a conversation with the drunk Irishman in the bar. The owner of Chief O’Neil’s has a large club behind the bar that appeared to be designed for no other reason than to bash heads. My father had more hair at 40 than I will. Being in a bar when someone attacks the owner will get you a free drink. My brother is the king of over staying his welcome. I am probably the prince. I really need a bottle of SoCo in my apartment. It is a good thing I don't.

Sunday, June 18, 2006

What else is new

I started a post about events in my life but I worked last night until 6am today didn't get to bed til 9:45 and woke up at one thirty and fucked around until 2p when I realized that I am entered into a Online Blogger Tournament at 3pm and then called my brother to find out that dinner with Dad for Dad's day is at 5pm and I am still sitting at my computer at 2:45pm. So I think running or working out is out of the question but a shower may be doable. So I am going to get naked wash myself in ice cold water because yes loyal readers I still haven't turned on my God Damn gas. I will then reheat pizza pop open a diet pepsi and try not to lose all my money. I don't know what to do about the fact that I will have to leave 1 1/2 hours into the tourney. I may have to turn wireless internet back on on my phone. Wish me luck.

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

A few observations

First, my blogroll is back. I don't know if anyone else had a problem seeing it but my blog roll was completely missing yesterday, but it has apparently found it's way home and is back where it belongs. I hope it got some.

Yesterday I went to by a pair of jeans because the two pair I have now have holes in them. One pair has a gaping hole in the left knee with a flap of denim hanging down. The other has a few small holes wearing through in the crotch. They aren't completely unacceptable yet but being the almost responsible father that I am I feel that wearing them around my daughter would not be sending the right message.

So I walk in to Old Navy because I just need a pair of right now jeans and nothing fancy and walk up to the jeans and what do I find? Pair after pair of jeans.....with holes in them. On purpose. When did I get transported back to the eighties? I did this fad once already. My daughter told that she wanted to bleach her jeans and put holes in them but I didn't know how far the madness had gone.

Lucky for me I was able to find a pair of jeans that didn't make me want to grow a mullet and wear high top Nikes with them. I really do hope the mullet doesn't come back. The resurgence of the Mohawk is enough.

Last observation, the spellchecker for blogger doesn't recognize the word blog. And they say I'm fucked up.

Monday, June 05, 2006

Dumbass update

I know this dumbass who got off work at 6am on Sunday, went to bed at 7:15am and woke up at 9:15am. He then went to the beach and somehow didn't put sunscreen on the tops of his feet, especially the left one. He also has an irregullarly shaped burn on the side of his left calf measuring 20cm by 8cm at it largest point becuase he apparently has a hard time with covering the entire leg with sunscreen.

Oh, and he also missed a girl's fairly obvious hints that she wanted to have sex with him in the water.


Thursday, May 25, 2006

I really AM still alive

This was started on 5/25/05 but not finished
until now.

It's been 21 days since my last post and this one probably won't be worth the wait but I will do my best to bring you up to date on the happenings and misadventures of my life in the past 3 weeks. I will try to be chronological as possible, but some things are easier said than done.

I finished my week long move into my new apartment. Got my security deposit from the old place. YAY! Celebrated Red's birthday at Hogs and Honeys pictures to follow. Maybe. Officially told Indian Girl that I didn't want a relationship with her. Got yelled at and cursed out for 2 hours straight. Then was called 2 1/2 hours later to be told to listen to some song that of course was nothing but static over the cell phone to cell phone connection. Then got yelled at for hanging up on the static. And finally yelled that it was 4:30am and and we were done talking and hung up and shut off the phone. I woke up to two mean voice mail messages. I called her 2 days later to try and talk when she wasn't drunk and angry. She wasn't drunk but still angry and we didn't talk long.

I then got a call a week later because she was having severe back spasms and pain and she only has 2 other friends in the entire state, now that she has divorced her husband. And apparently calling me was preferable to calling him. That and I was a bigger help with my medical background. Because we were friends for 6 years prior to this disaterous fling I got prescriptions for some pain meds and muscle relaxants and even ended taking her to the ER on day 4 or 5 of her ordeal. She is finally feeling a little better and no longer hates me and wants to see me boiled in oil. She is also now willing to accept being just friends. So she says. I am willing to give it a try.

During this time I went to three different courthouses for the driving on a suspended liscence sharges and had to get all 3 cases continued because I have not completely straightened out my liscence. So I now have another weeklong court marathon at the end of June.

I am sure I did more during that 3 weeks but I now longer remember. I know have to start my post about memorial day weekend. Wish me luck.

Here are some pictures to keep you busy.

Red and I (taken on another date because somehow we didn't get a good picture of us on her birthday)

Red's best friend

Two other friends

Our Hot Bartender

Hot bartender giving red a shot

The girls who bought Red the shot


Rico on the bull

Red getting ready to do a Blow Job shot off the Mechanical Bull Guy

Red drinking the shot. (Yes, I missed the money shot)

Shot off the bartender

Red and SRG dancing

With a way too short skirt

Red doing a shot off the bartender

Hot Bartender's wet belly

HB gets a cleaning

HB does a shot off SRG

Triple shot

Riding the bull

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Hallelujiah for silver linings

I have been offline for 4 days. Yes I have checked my email and my blog from work but haven't been able to accomplish anything online. Like yell at Somebody for not guest posting to keep all of you entertained. I would really yell as much as tease. And I know she is on dreaded dial up so I might forgive her and right now I am in a good mood so now would be a good time for her to ask for that forgiveness.

As for the good mood I will have to explain. I have been in a bad mood for weeks. I have a lot of things in my life coming ot a head right now and almost none of them good. The most immediate is that I have moved out of a 3bdr 2ba apartment that my friend wanted to rent out for $1300/month but gave to me for $1100/month and was willing to give to me for $1000/month to get me to stay and is now renting out for $1400/month to move into a $550/month 1 bedroom almost a full bath (shower no tub) garden apartment, for those of you non-Chicagoans that means basement. I have been depressed about this and lamenting my decision. And to improve my mood, while packing up the last of the bathroom I knocked my phone off my belt and deposited it squarely into the center of the toilet bowl. Nothing but net. Two points. Play taps, this bitch is dead. Unfortunately I was planning on attending a concert tonight (Steven Stills, give me shit later) but my friend had my ticket and being unable to reach me due to my dead phone, and I being unable to reach him due to my dead phone and my not being smart enough to set up my computer and get his cell phone number before leaving the house, sold my ticket. I got down there late because I am always late, and then I had to park 4-5 blocks away and check every local establishment for a pay phone, in ten years kids won't know what those are, only to find one 1/2 a block from The Park West but without any quarters had to ask two establishments for quarters only to realize I did not have my friends number. Calling work provided no help they didn't have access to his number either. I walked around in front of The Park West again then realized that I hadn't checked my own voice mail. There were 7 unheard messages, Mom, Red, Indian Girl, and 4 from my friend. The first two telling me where to meet them for dinner, the second one getting pissy saying if I don't hear from you I am selling the ticket and the fourth saying that he expected at least a phone call and that he was selling the ticket. I tried to buy one from scalpers out front but they were going for more than I had in my pocket and I didn't want to stand around until after it started to see if I could get one cheap. I walked back to my car stopping at a local drinking establishment to wet my whistle and ease the pain, then came home to set up my computer, luckily the damn tricorder piece of sheet syncs with outlook, to get his number. And when I set it up, the computer automatically tried to connect me to MSN and Yahoo messengers. Unsuccessfully of course. And the little icon in the corner for wireless showed a red monitor, but I thought what if... What if I connected the little antenna? Sure enough, yellow. So I tried to connect and got nothing. Another network appeared on my list. I tried and nothing. So I lifted the computer up on top of the table instead of underneath. And to make a long story only slightly shorter, I am writing to you on Free Wireless Internet.

Free. Wireless. Internet.

Well not completely free. Somebody is paying for it but not me. Now I should feel slightly bad but I am pretty sure someone was freeloading on my network at my last apartment so I am just riding the wave of good Karma. And would probably be more than happy to split someone's internet cable bill. But for now I am super happy that I may be able to save $62/month by not paying for ineternet cable.

I will have to use this network as much as possible in the next few days to see how constant it is, before cancelling the installation of my internet cable given that the signal strengthn is low. Because right now if I transfer from my old place there is no installation fee. But if I cancel and decide later I will probably get nailed with a $50 fee or so. Not good.

But for right now I am doing the happy dance.

Update: Okay of course while searching on line for pictures snoopy happy dancing I lose my signal and couldn’t post this damn thing. I guess I am buying internet after all.

The network just went off line all together and the name of the network sounds like a restaurant so maybe they just closed. We shall see.

Okay now it is back up.

And now it's not.

Update #2: I have lifted up the compter and put it closer to the window and it currently rests next to the TV and the signal strength is very good. Yay me! However the mouse is now on the left side of the computer but I am sure I can get all this moved around.

Sunday, April 30, 2006

What can I say?

Indian Girl made it over 48 hours without calling but then leaves this
3:52 message. Yeah, it's long but worth it. Grab some popcorn, or
better yet a beer, and have a seat and hang on for the ride.

I think she getting the point, but somehow makes me feel even more guilty.

Fucktards run amok

There are fucktards in this world. We all know there are fucktards in this world. They are now so prevalent in this world that they are no longer cause a sense of wonder and amazement if not shock and awe. 50 years ago some of the fucktard antics that are common place would have been two weeks worth of conversations at the local beauty parlor and malt shop. Today they barely cause a shake of the head and a muttered “fucktard”.

These fucktards are common people. Everday folks that are working at places a half a step above McDonald’s or collecting disability for burning themselves on the fry machine three years ago. And they do ricockulous things like take a check when robbing someone or look directly into the bank camera as you take off your ski mask. They do more common fucktard things while living in there fucktard world.

Things like somehow making it all the way to 62 years of age then thinking climbing a tree is a good idea. Then falling out of said tree in such a way to cause a concussion. But there are people above these things, smarter than these things. People like professors, doctors, theologians. Then there are the people who would never come in contact with these types of these things. People like the Carnegies, the Rockefellers, the Trumps, movie stars, rock stars. Or so you would think.

Earlier this week pansy ass heroin addicted never worked a hard day in his life Kieth Richards, yeah that Kieth Richards, fell out of a FUCKING PALM TREE. In a FOREIGN FUCKING COUNTRY.

*shakes head*


Now that's funny, or is it?

Someone has decided that my recockulous life would make a recockulously funny comic strip.

Even I have to laugh.

Saturday, April 29, 2006

Time's a tickin'

In more ways than one. I have to be fully packed and ready to move in 8 1/2 hours. And hopefully get some sleep in there some where. Where I don't know. I have 4 people confirmed to help me move. It is not an army but it is good.

The second countdown is also on. It has been 24 hours since there has been any communication between Indian Girl and myself. 48 more to go and this bubble should be ready to pop. She hasn't left a message yet but I know she will.

Friday, April 28, 2006

Okay, I know he's an idiot but this is funny

If this won't play right away, click on it and you can play it on the you tube site.

The Saga Continues

Okay so I am trying to diplomatically, nicely break up with Indian Girl. Not going to happen. Psychochicks get angry and cry, and go why, why, why? This is what they do. I know this. I have known this for a long time and is why I finally gave up psycho chicks for good. My problem is that this is a psycho chick from my past, from before I got smart. Also I never quite saw the psycho chick side until I went out with her and somehow I didn't run for my life. Now it is in danger.

I had a plan.

A good plan.

A plan that would a least show her that we are not very compatible and I am not what she is looking for and am not good relationship material.

I am moving this weekend. She has volunteered to help pack, to help move, to help do whatever will put her right next to me. I politely declined. My plan was to not call her all weekend. No matter what. Not even if she called. Not even if she called a hundred times. I have an excuse. I was moving. I didn't even have my phone with me most of the time. I would call Monday. Maybe Tuesday. She would be pissy and then we would have a conversation starter. I could end it.

No such luck. She called twice today and I didn't even listen to the voicemails. Until someone else left a message.

This is her first message.

FUCK. How can I be mean to a girl who just lost her job.

Then I got this message.

FUCK. How can I refuse to console a woman who just lost her job. How can I refuse her request.

Then genious struck me. There is one failsafe excuse. One thing no one can argue with. Children. My daughter, Monkey, is staying with me this weekend. But I am not picking her up until tomorrow. I left this part out. Actually I specifically stated that I was picking her up tonight. I got a But I really wanted to see you tonight.

Bad things never happen at good times. She can't blame me I am being a good dad. And what dad would have a woman sleep over with his teenage daughter in the house?

Now I have to go pack like a motherfucker. If any of you Chicagoans wanna come over and pack and drink all my liquor so I don't have to take it with let me know.

Thursday, April 27, 2006

Can't win for losing

Okay the band-aid is still on, but I am more determined than ever to get it off. I met indian Girl at the bar last night adn we barely spoke for the first hour. We were playing pool, so it wasn't like we were just sitting and staring at each other. But we really didn't have anything to say. She had 3 drinks and was playing pool with the door man before I got there. I needed at least three drinks to relax and loosen up and start talking. What did she want to talk about?

"I'm saving up to take us to Vegas" she says. I think I did a good job at hiding my disbelief, but maybe she was just too drunk to notice.

In the can't win for losing category......We were at the bar that I took Red to on Monday. And guess what? Same bartender. So what you say? Red and I were making out half the time we were there. Now the bartender was as drunk as we were on Monday so maybe she truly didn't recognize me, or maybe she didn't think it was her place to say anything but she was pretty friendly with Indian Girl. Part of me wishes she would have said something to Indian Girl. Now Indian Girl knows I am dating other people and has known from the get go. But I thought that if she would hear about it she would get upset, sulk, get super quiet, which would lead to the what' wrong conversation, which would lead to a discussion on how I am not able to fufill her needs and that she should move on. No such luck.

Then to drive me crazy she got even drunker and asked me every 3 min during whatever story she just couldn't stop telling, if I wanted to go to Vegas with her and didn't that sound like fun.


Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Missed Call or Missed Calling?

I don't know who she works for or what she wanted. I am sure it is a creditor, so I didn't call back.

What I do know is she missed her calling in the phone sex industry.

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

My Friends

My friends are an interesting bunch, and few as interesting as Rico.

Rico Suave

Rico Suave is a nickname I have given him for this blog because his real nickname is too close to his real name. And we with Common Sense try to preserve the anonymity of the drunk and idiotic.

Rico is not a pretender. He is not trying to be Rico Suave. He really is a good looking, smooth talking, fun guy who is almost as good at finding a party in a convent as Shaft. This is probably where the difference between Rico and Shaft becomes evident. Rico even though quite capable of getting a nun to shed her clothes, he wouldn’t do it. Despite most of his actions, I believe he truly is afraid of hell. Shaft on the other hand would come home the next morning dancing and wearing a habit.

Shaft is fun to be with. Rico is fun to watch. Rico realizes most of the time that he is a caricature and enjoys it, the rest of the time he too drunk and just does. He gets himself into the craziest situations, and is well known for inviting more than one woman to the same place at the same time. And still going home with one of them, or sometimes with someone else all together. If he could remember half these adventures his memoirs would be amazing.

A distinct feature of Rico is that he always has a signature line. And he is smart enough to change it up once in a while. His favorite line when I met him was “Why you bringing up old shit” He would be hitting on someone we knew. “Rico, where’s your girlfriend?” she would say. “Why you bring up old shit” “She isn’t old shit.” “We broke up” “I saw you with her two days ago” “We broke up. Stop bringin’ up old shit.”
Anything you would mention that he didn’t want to talk about he would say “Why you bringin’ up old shit.”
Then we had to put up with “BAM” for a while. Cute girl walks by “BAM!” You say something funny or inappropriate “BAM!” It was a while before I found out that he stole it from Emeril. Rico was out of work at the time, and apparently spending too much time watching the Food Network.
For a while he only answered the phone "What’s up Bitch". Once I called and he said Hello and I thought I had the wrong number. He was with his daughter.
Another favorite of mine was “imaginate” (pronounced ee-ma-he-na-tay)which is Spanish for imagine that. “Shaft and I went out last night and got Whacked” Imaginate. He would always find the funniest moment to slip that in.
I could go on for hours with anecdotes about Rico and his drunken adventures. But I will give you just one more.
I used to throw a party every year around my birthday. Two days before one of these party’s Rico came over to help me move furniture and clean up. The problem with this was that I already purchased all the alcohol for the party. He came over because in addition to wanting to help he was broke and wanted to keep the night low key. I agreed. A 12 pack of corona, for him, and a ½ a bottle of Habana Club, for me, later the house was clean and we were hammered. The empty stomach drunk will get you every time. So at this point we wanted to do what most people want to do when they are hammered. Go drinking. We knew that shaft was at the restaurant he bartended at so we could drink there cheap or he would pick up the tab or both. Rico drove because he had his sister’s car and it was smaller and parking sucked where we were going. We arrived fifteen minutes after Shaft and CDG left. So we went next door to a bar that was open late and had a pool table. We arrived and within 10 minutes we were playing pool with two women we had never met. I of course got the fat friend. To her credit she wasn’t really fat, just not as good looking as her friend and for what ever reason I was being picky and anti-social and did not flirt as much as I could have. Within 45 minutes the girls were leaving Rico Suave in tow. Imaginate. He gave me his sister’s car keys, we bid each other Buena Suerte, and he left. I stuck around another 15-20 minutes and played another game of pool flirting with someone who was probably much more aware of how drunk I was, than I was. I started to realize this and cut bait when some guy bought me a drink for winning the game. I have no idea how I did that. You know it is time to go when someone hands you a drink and you can’t possibly imagine taking even one sip. It has happened to me maybe only three or four times but when it happens, it is time to GO. So I went. Outside. To realize that I didn’t see my car. And that I hadn’t brought my car. And that I wasn’t real sure what kind of car Rico’s sister drove. If it wasn’t for the fact that his sister was in an accident the day before and he showed me the huge dent in the passenger side of the car I would have never been able to identify it. I made it home in one piece. Please no lectures. I know. The next morning I was wakened by my cell phone ringing. It stopped ringing. I closed my eyes. It rang. I did not even open my eyes. My house phone rang. The answering machine did what I was not willing to do. It picked up. “It’s Rico call me back.” The cell rings. I pick it up, and this greets me from the other end “Where the fuck are you” “Jackass, I am at home. Where the Fuck are you. I wasn’t the one who took off with strange women.” “Dude, I am at their house alone. And I’m Puerto Rican. Are they Stupid? If it was Shaft he would have a truck pulled up back by now. This is a nice house.” I like to think that Shaft wouldn’t do that but we are never quite sure. Hustler by nature, Criminal by law.
I went and picked his drunk ass up. The story went something like this. He went home with them and got into the hot tub with cute short haired girl and things went on from there. He woke up to the other girl saying that she had to leave for a while for a meeting but he could stay and she would be back. So he asked “Where’s um, um……..(pointing to the other side of the bed)” “Barbara?” “Yeah Barbara” “She flew back to San Francisco this morning, remember?” “Yeah, Yeah.” That’s when the phone calls to me started.

I hate telling stories about Rico because they make him sound like a womanizing drunk, but they are so entertaining. The good news is that he is no longer a drunk. He sobered up in April. He fell off the wagon for about a month but has been clean again for about three weeks now and seems much more committed now. He wants to go to 90 meetings in 90 days and be celibate for 90 days. Buena Suerte.

I knew Rico for a year and a half before I ever saw him sober. The transformation was amazing. He is a very cool very intelligent loyal friend when he is sober. I hope he stays that way for a long time.

Everybody wish Rico a happy birthday.

This is what a message from Rico usually sounds like.

this is an audio post - click to play

This is a rare longer message from Rico

this is an audio post - click to play

Audioblogger vs. Audioblog

this is an audio post - click to play

It works, it really works......for now

this is an audio post - click to play

Sunday, April 23, 2006

They are so killing me.

I have been trying to record an audioblog post all afternoon and it keeps fucking with me. It takes ten tries for it to accept my log in then there is a 90 second pause before I get a record tone, so I record and it won't accept the # key at the end and it then disconnects me and doesn't post my recording.


And I thought this new home was going to be stress free.

Saturday, April 22, 2006

Indian Girl in Action

This is my first audiopost so bear with me. Those of you who have followed me from over here know a about Indian Girl. Those who haven't can read about Indian Girl.

this is an audio post - click to play

Yes, Whatsername, I am going to just rip the band aid off.

Question Time

I stole this from tony who stole it from Binsk

Put your music player on shuffle. Press forward for each question. Use the song title as the answer to the question. Post on your blog.

Will I get far in life?
4-ize- Ludacris

How do my friends see me?
Don’t make me wait too long- Barry White

Where will I get married?
Slow Dance- John Coltrane

What is my best friend’s theme song?
You Learn- Alainis Morrisette

What is the story of my life?
Bite to Break the Skin- Senses Fail

What was high school like?
Sabbath Bloody Sabbath- Black Sabbath

How can I get ahead in life?
El Amor Que Te Di- El Gran Combo de Peurto Rico

What is the best thing about me?
I am the Bullgod- Kid Rock

How is today going to be?
Large Amounts- Ludacris

What is in store for this weekend?
Passive/Aggressive- Fun Lovin’ Criminals

What song describes my parents?
Diamond in the Back- Ludacris

My grandparents?
Closer- Nine Inch Nails

How is my life going?
Bombin’ the L- Fun Lovin’ Criminals

What song will they play at my funeral?
Take Me Away - Avril Lavigne

How does the world see me?
Player- DMX

Will I have a happy life?
I do Not Want This- Nine Inch Nails

What do my friends really think of me?
Swamp Music- Lynard Skynard

Do people secretly lust after me?
A Tu Vera- Gypsy Kings

How can I make myself happy?
Agua de Beber- Antonio Carlos Jobim

What should I do with my life?
Sneakin’ out of the Hospital- Beastie Boys

Will I ever have children?
Check It Out- John Mellencamp

What is some good advice?
Get Back- Ludacris

What is my signature dancing song?
R.O.C.K. in the USA- John Mellencamp

What do I think my current theme song is?
The Impression That I Get- Mighty Mighty Bosstones

What does everyone else think my current theme song is?
Shame- Matchbox Twenty

What type of men/women do you like?
Old Devil Moon- Frank Sinatra

What did you think of this meme?
Makin’ Whopee- Frank Sinatra

Sunday, March 26, 2006

Indian Girl is a leaver

Not meaning that she likes to leave, because if it were up to her I don't think she ever would. She would stay forever making sure she was here when I woke up, got home from work etc.

What she does do is leave her stuff behind. Every damn time.

Once a couple of years ago I was helping my dad clean out his office at home. He was getting new furniture I believe or something like that. Anyway we cleaned out the whole room. Everything out. And after moving everything I found a pair of earrings on the floor. Jokingly I said, "I hope those are mom's". He laughed and said " I have a theory about that" What. "That no jewelery is ever left behind, on accident." I thought about that and realized that almost if not every woman who has left a watch or earrings behind, wanted a reason to come back. So know I am even more acutely aware of this.

The first time Indian Girl was here she didn't leave anything physical but did make my bed and sprayed my pillows with her cherry blossom body spray. Thanks. The second time she left a toothbrush. When she came the third time she brought another toothbrush I asked why and she said she didn't know if I would still have it. Like I would throw out her toothbrush but still invite her back.

Since then she has left a hair clip, and a pair of pink panties. That I didn't find for 2 days. At least my daughter didn't find them. And I think she left something else too, but I dont' remember what it is. In 3 weeks. It has been only 3 weeks. I have been seeing Red for 3 months and she left behind a t-shirt once and asked me about it the next day.

Saturday, March 25, 2006

Another Day, another $1100

Staring at a blank page trying to fill it with some enthusiasm. Gumby is sitting here with his everpresent smile making things a little easier. And it is sunny outside. Very sunny. In March in Chicago and that makes me happy. I think it is still a little cold outside but one thing at a time. I wonder if the car wash is open on Sunday. How sweet would that be.

Speaking of sweet, Monkey and I baked an Angel Food cake yesterday. We haven’t tasted it yet so I guess I should check to see if it tastes like ass before I get all excited about it. Monkey is excited though. We have been cooking together more these days, and it is kind of nice.

Nice to meet you. The Ass was out on St. Patrick’s day with this hottie from his kick boxing class. I was quite impressed and at least a little jealous. I wrote a post about Friday, copied it but then word froze up before I could paste it and then accidently closed the browser. I would tell you I am going to recreate that post but I’d probably be lying.

OK maybe not. Let’s get this over with. You will have to hope and pray that I go back and do the rest of the week, but for what it is worth here’s Friday.

I woke up on Friday at about 9 am with Little Indian Girl in my bed. I know I have only briefly mentioned her and haven’t used this name. I didn’t want to do it but it is the only nickname that fits. She is half Irish and half Native American. She has the Irish skin but Indian facial features and she is fairly cute. We wake up she wants to sleep in. There is a couple of rounds of fooling around split up by naps. I start talking about food at about 11am, she gives me an Uuuh you are always hungry. She is surprised? Finally I get her to agree to lunch at 1pm. There may have been more fooling around. I finally get out of bed at about 2 or 2:30p At three o’clock she is still in bed and not in the shower. At 3:30 I go out to her car to bring in some CDs she brought for me to burn, and to move her car because parking on my side of the street is illegal between 4p-6p. So I move her car around the corner, grab the CD case and head back to my car. As I get closer to it I notice this bright orange piece of paper on my winshield. Too big for a ticket I think. Too bright orange for a bar flyer. I get closer trying to figure it out when I am suddenly distracted by the big yellow…..mother fucking Denver Boot on my goddamn front tire. Fuck me in the ass with a running chainsaw. Why me lord, Why me? I usually don’t ask that question because I know the answer. I am a procrastinating, hard drinking, fornicating heathen who claims to be a Christian. And that is the answer today, but what I really want to know is why today.

I have a parking spot behind my house that I somehow refuse to use as often as I should. That is one of the reasons I have all these outstanding parking tickets in the first place. And I knew I had outstanding parking tickets, but I still left my car out in the open.

Because I am a Moron, with a capital M.

So now I am in panic mode. Fuck. I think I actually said that out loud and Indian Girl (IG) asked what’s wrong. I’m a moron I replied. I explained what had happed and then called the city’s parking hotline. That is how ruthless they are with tickets and towing here. They need a hotline so you can find your car after you walk out side and it is gone. I think everywhere else in the world people, upon discovering their car is missing, think Fuck my car has been stolen. In Chicago, we think Damn, I just got towed. It is slightly better now than it was twenty years ago when the Lincoln Park Pirates ruled the street. Oops I mean Lincoln Towing. Lincoln Towing used to have an exclusive contract with the city and would tow you whether you were parked illegally or not. Now they have inforced so many regulations that there is a sign every 15 feet telling you under what conditions you can park there.

Anyway I call 1-800-WEGOTYOURCAR and find out that I owed. Drumroll please. $2000 in parking tickets. How does anyone amass $2000 in parking tickets I just don’t know. But they did tell me I would have to pay at least half plus the $60 boot fee to get my damn car unbooted. If I was on public assistance I would have only had to pay ¼ plus the boot fee. If you are on public assistance should you be able to afford a car? I can barely afford mine. That was a rhetorical and sarcastic question so the liberals can refrain from flaming me in the comments.

So now the dilemma is how do I come up with $1100. I have got about $200 in the bank. Rico already owes me money and is avoiding me because of it. I don’t get paid till Monday, but I need the car now because I am due to pick up monkey in a few hours. Indian Girl offers to let me use her car. But that means I have to drive her all the way home and I will need the car for the full weekend which gives me two full days to get into a wreck, which you know will happen because I am living proof that Murphy’s law is alive and well. She then asks if they take credit cards and I say they do, but it does me no good because I don’t own one. I refuse. They are evil. Why, is another post altogether. She says you can use mine. I think two things simultaneously. One, wow she is super nice I can believe she is offering that. Two, oh, my god she is a psycho chick. Yes she has known me for about seven years but until a week and a half ago I hadn’t seen her in five years. People who give that much of themselves that soon always scare me. I know you are going to tell me she is just very nice and I know this but there are other psycho chick signs that I will go into in a later post.

She calls her credit card company and her bank while I am calling my nowhere to be found friends, and she comes back and tells me that she can put $500 on her card and give me $200 cash. Her $700 plus my $200 still leaves me $200 short. I am going through my phone book when I notice a test message from The Ass that I had ignored earlier. Basketball games. Joes on weed street. Get here. I was in bed with a naked woman at the time I received that and even basketball, beer, and bullshit doesn’t outrank that. But now. Now that I am in a crisis, the message meant something else. It meant that a friend with liquid cash, free time, and a bizarre sense of loyalty was available for contact. I reached out. He answered and after telling him my dilemma he said that sucks and followed it shortly afterwards with how much? I tell him I am short $200 but if he can come up with $700 I will be less indebted to this woman. He understands. He says give me a few minutes and meet me at Lincoln Station. This is why I like him. He may be an ass and bust my balls endlessly but he has always got my back. I wait what seems like and endless period of time for Indian Girl to put her face on and fix her hair. Even the most girly girl would be shocked at how long this girl takes to get ready. Right before leaving the house The Ass calls me to tell what a hug e sacrifice he is making. He apparently was talking to a cute girl at the bar who he left with True Dog. I say no problem True Dog is married and won’t hit on her and he is fairly entertaining when he is drinking. He says that’s the problem. He isn’t drinking. Oh, I say. You’re screwed, she’s gonna leave. I believe he then made some threats or cursed at me in several languages or something like that.

We get to Lincoln Station and can’t find him so I call him. IG goes to the bathroom. He tells me where to look and sure enough he is right behind me. I must have walked past him twice and looked at him three times. He is sitting with a girl and SHE IS CUTE. Way cute. We say hello and she compliments my shirt. I am wearing a Fun Lovin’ Criminals shirt, a small band that opened for U2 once almost 10 years ago. I am wearing it because it is green. I realize later that I didn’t say thank you and pretty much blew off her comment altogether, because I was distracted. Foti (ok this is where it gets confusing, although I have a friend I call Foti they are part of of a group that calls each other Foti, so for the record here I am talking about the Ass) makes the handoff I say thanks and IG returns from the bathroom. We make introductions. Foti asks if I am drinking I say I gotta go. Then I ask him why after drinking for 6 hours he is not loaded. He say he is in for the long haul. I tell him he can get buzzed and still hang for 12 hours. I tell him next time I have time I will show him how it is done. He says I am sure you could. We bolt because it is 6pm and the Dept of Revenue office closes at 6:30p. We arrive at 6:22p. The security guard sees us through the window and shakes her head. I walk up anyway and check the door. Locked. Bastards. Like I expected anything less from city employees. I should have stayed at the bar. IG and I drive to Wrigleyville to get dinner. No go. It is dark now and the St. Patty’s day revelers are out in force. It isn’t that we can’t get a seat. It is that we can’t even get a parking space. We drive to a bar and grill not too far away that I know has a parking lot. Full. We find a space 1 ½ blocks away. It is packed and an hour wait for a table. Now for those of you have been paying attention you know that I have not eaten since the previous day. And those of you who know me know that I eat every 2 hours and if I go more than 4 hours without eating you better lock up the sharp objects and stay out of my way.

Luckily there is one open bar stool. IG sits down and I order drinks and a food menu. Mmmm…….food. I suck down my drink like it is my first drink of water after traversing the Sahara. Even though I know it might be my last because the amount of money in my pocket won’t sustain a prolonged drinking binge, or even a few drinks for that matter. I order a Philly Cheesesteak. She orders Spinach Artichoke dip. For dinner. Now I have nothing against appetizers. I love appetizers. I am the King of appetizers. I like to order 2 or 3 at a time. But they should be followed… a meal. Women drive me crazy when they do that. Now I know if they eat like I do they would weigh as much as I do, but what they don’t understand is that I don’t care if they don’t finish it all, order all you want just take home and actually eat what is left over or give it to me for god’s sake. I have been to dinner twice with IG and both times she didn’t finish her meal and both times she didn’t offer me any and didn’t take it home. And I was still hungry both times. Actually the second time I took the second half of her steak because I wasn’t going to let a good filet go to waste but by the time I got to it, it was cold and although I will eat almost anything at room temperature steak is not one of them. Not that I haven’t I just don’t like to. So we finish our food. We finally get a second seat and IG has opened up a tab and has started feeding me drinks, something she seems fond of doing, seems strange to me but I haven’t complained yet. The Ass has moved up to a bar in Wrigleyville and the place we are at is not that entertaining. The only attractive women in the entire place are sitting on either side of me, and the one not with me has been under siege by a guy who wouldn’t stop talking about himself and looked like an ugly version of Bluto from Animal House. This guy just kept talking about himself and how cool he was and just as I was thinking could this guy be anymore full of himself, he says, outloud, “I love myself, I really do”. No shit jackass. He made the mistake of walking away for a few minutes and when he came back she wouldn’t make eye contact with him. So he closed his tab and left. Thank god. A few minutes later the women get up to leave and ask for their tab, and ask if they had the right tab and Bartender says yeah, I put all your other drinks on that guy’s tab. They say no wonder he was pissed. Seems about right though. He should have to pay something for making that woman listen to his drunken narcissism.

We head for Wrigleyville with the agreement that if we can’t find parking we will head for home. With food and drink in my belly I am a little more patient and actually make two passes and find a space about a block away, and in Chicago anything within a block is rock star parking. Bernie’s like every other bar in the city is packed. But I find the Ass and Cutie Pie pretty easily. Cutie Pie has a friend not as cute not as engaging. IG does not seem to be entertained. We order drinks and more drinks and she still won’t talk to anyone but me. I talk to everyone because that is what I do. Cutie Pie asked me how many outstanding tickets I had. I said lots. She said were you on the boot list. Apparently, eh. She said she is worried because she is on the boot list. I ask how many tickets she has. Five. Five, I say you are small potatoes I was like on the Ten Most Wanted List. She say it is more like…. And puts up all ten fingers. I laugh and say we are talking about parking tickets not past lovers. S he laughs. You can say the real number, but about that other thing you should stick with five.

IG has to work in the morning so she needs to leave, but has conveniently left stuff at my apartment so I have to leave with her. She pays her tab. I say good bye to Ass, Cutie Pie and her friends more of which had shown up in the mean time. Cutie Pie gives me a kiss on the cheek. IG walks out apparently saying good bye to no one. She later tells me she said goodbye. I have my doubts.

We talk to That Drunk Girl on the phone on the way back home TDG has met IG in the past and is asking me questions about IG and if I slept with her and is wondering why I am being so vague with my answers so I say she wants to say Hi, and hand over the phone. When I get the phone back she starts laughing and says why the fuck you didn’t tell me she was in the car. We laugh some more because that is what we do. I hang up.

We get back to the apartment and IG immediately pours me a drink (see what I mean) I have better ideas of what to do with our remaining time. So I say good bye to her. For about a half an hour or so. It takes her another 30 min or so to get her shit together. That girl kills me.

I call Ass back and he has left the bar and has dropped Cutie Pie off. He makes sure to mention that he made out with her for a while. Gotta be happy for him.

It is not really too late to go out at this point but I don’t know where anyone else is and am not energized enough to find out. But I can’t sleep. I fall asleep at 6am and wake up at ten and go to try to get my car out of hock. I call my bank and my paycheck has gone through a day early. Go me! Which turns out to be a good thing because it turns out I owe $2200 not just $2000. So I would have been a $100 short. I takes about 30 min for paper work and such, and when the lady calls to have the crew unboot my car they tell her that they were on the way to tow my car. Bastards. I am glad she made the call before we were done with the payment and paperwork because I would have been doomed.

She tells me it will be a few hours to get the boot off. Fuck. I have to be at Monkey’s house in an two hours and she has a band competition in 3 hours.

It takes me 20 minutes to get home by bus and miraculously the boot is already off. Praise Paperweight Jesus! (I’ll explain later) But as I get closer, I see what? A ticket hanging off my side window. Bastards ticketed me for being in a rush hour zone during rush hour, even though it was quite obvious that I was completely incapable of moving the vehicle. I so need to move to Zimbabwe.

Anyway, I make it to get monkey by noon, and all goes well. This post took 3 hours of writing time, 7 days of real time and has made me late once again.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

Retarded is the New Gay

Everything used to be gay.

Mom I can't wear that shirt it's gay. Your friends are so gay. God, that was a gay movie. Blogging was gay. Being gay was gay. Not anymore.

My daughter says it. Her friends say it. My friends say it.

You do something stupid. God, I'm retarded.

Your daughter sees you do something stupid. Dad that's retarded.

I'm not hanging out with those people. They're retarded.

That's a retarded song.

My Grandpa is NOT retarded.

I have had 15 drinks in 3 hours. I have to go home. I'm retarded.

George Bush. Retarded.

The VP shooting his buddy in the face. Retarded.

The people who don't make it on American Idol. Retarded.

The people who do make it on American Idol. Retarded.

The people on almost every "reality" TV show. Retarded.

The hosts for most news programs.

The hosts for most game shows.

Bad bloggers.

Good bloggers.

The cashier at the grocery store.

The people at technical support.

My phone. Most if not all automated phone systems. The process to get a driver's license. The cost of a movie. The cost of living. Everything that annoys you throughout the day.

You used to be gay.

Now you're just retarded.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

Love vs. Respect

Some times topics just come to you for no reason and no relation to anything going on at the time.
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You can respect someone with out loving them and probably vice versa. To illiustrate this point I am going to use the New York Yankees. The Yankees? Where the fuck did you come up with the Yankees it is not even baseball season. I know, and if baseball doesn't come around soon I am probably going to lose my sanity and my ability to resist the homicidal urges that have been surfacing lately.

For those of you who don't love baseball the way I do, I must tell you that everyone hates the Yankees. Everyone. Except Yankee fans. And we won't even talk about them. If there is a group of people more despised than the Yankees it is Yankees fans.

Hate is a strong word so we will say no one likes the Yankees there is a whole lotta residents of New York C that don't even like the Yankees. The problem with this is that the Yankess ARE baseball. You can't get around it. Can't ignore it.

The Yankees are baseball.

The way The Cowboys used to be football.

And the way The Celtics used to be basketball.

And the way Wayne Gretzky used to be hockey.

Ask any guy, even one that has his head so far up his ass that he doesn't like baseball which Major League Team exemplifies baseball. The Yankees. There is no getting around it. They have more World Series Rings than any other team, and you have to respect that. Which is probably one of the reasons we hate them so much.

I had this conversation with someone when the Yankees came to town a few years ago to play our beloved Cubs because she couldn't understand why it was so important to see the Yankees play at Wrigley. The way they hadn't since 1938.

I still haven't made it to Yankee Stadium but it is on the list. The house that Ruth built. It is those of you who don't know that the Yankees are baseball that don't know why I have to, in my lifetime go to Yankee Stadium. But not before I go visit Fenway Park. The Big Green Monster. Baseball. They way it used to be played. No 'roids. No million dollar contracts. No bullshit. Baseball. Guys who would pitch 40-50 games in a season. Guys who would play for the fans. Guys who would play for the love of the game.