Waiting sweetheart, waiting

I have been sitting for a good ten minutes waiting for inspiration to hit me upside the head with frying pan, but as of yet she has not showed. I want to post more but have not had the urge to say anything in particular so I figured the only cure was to start typing. Maybe some day I'll be funny again. I certainly am funny looking.

I hope you enjoyed looking at the pictures I took at the game as much as I enjoyed taking them. I think I left out the part where after the game and after the dancing and most of my fellow coworkers jumped on the train to return to that hell hole they call Joliet, three of my friends and I went and kidnapped Brother and called and convinced Foti to meet us out at Easy Bar. Which is now by far my favorite bar in my neighborhood and possibly in the City. When we arrived it was only about 8pm or so so the place was empty and the bartender was a girl I have seen in there maybe once. We brought in burritos from Picante down the street and she didn't harass us even though EasyBar's kitchen was still open. I love how laid back they are there. And My good buddy Craig was working. Which was fun and painful at the same time because he loves doing shots as much as I love ordering them. And he doesn't charge me for them. Well not always anyway, but a free shot is always a good shot. We drank some more and then they started dropping like flies. First my friends from J-town then Brother. Foti stuck around for another hour because I can be persuasive like that. Any way we finally left and I ended up on Philarican's couch watching a movie because I wasn't ready to call it a day but I did know it was time to quit drinking which is good because I tend not to realize that point in time. But I am trying desperately to stop being late for work so I figured stopping drinking 8 hours before my shift started would be a good idea. Apparently an even better idea than I thought because I ended up waking up the neck morning still sitting upright on Philarican's couch. Somehow I woke up at 6:05 am without an alarm which is fantastic because I was due at work at 7am.


It is 11:38 and I think I am still recovering from Thursday and lack of sleep. I am going to go to bed and hopefully not wake up when Matador stumbles in to crash on my couch. He will be in the city tonight hanging out with his cousin who is in from out or town. May the force be with him.

Good night and good luck.

CUBS WIN! CUBS WIN!

I went to the Cubs game on Thursday and they kicked ass. 12-4 kicked ass. I went with about 12 people from work and had a great time. I would love to tell you all about it but it is now 2am on Saturday and I am rat ass tired and still hungover from Thursday. So I will leave you with a bunch of great pictures.

Where the fuck are my pants?

Last night turned out almost as expected.

I drank a lot. Paid little. Saw a lot of women who didn't want to talk to me. Met the owner of a bar. Met another woman Horse Cock claims to have fucked. Might believe him. You wouldn't claim it if it weren't true. Offended at least one woman. Got ditched by my friend. Lost my cell phone. And drove drunk.

Now if only there was anal fisting involved the night would have been truly legendary.

The first part of Ignoramus is Ignor

And I have been ignoring this blog something awful. Yes indeedy. First there was the 4 day bender that had some legendary parts and I started to post about but the first hour of writing barely got me out of the house. And there was day 3 where there was sex in my house but not by me. And day 4 there was lots of drinking in a short period of time, and a little scrabble in a long period of time. And no sleep. And a lot of hangover the next day. And an invite for drinking that didn't pan out. Praise the lord for small miracles. Then there was several days of work in a row. Then there was Miami. Miami, full of drink and eat and women and hangovers and sun and food and drink and women and dominoes and drink and dancing and drink and women and hangovers and women and drink and laughing and they tell me there was golf but I think I was drinking with Wet Willie and his little cousin Fat Tuesday. And there was the airport. To this day I still proclaim that the worst place to be with a hangover other than mom's house is the airport. With it's noise and kids and people asking me questions. And waiting and hot airplanes.

And man just thinking about it is giving me a headache.

But we all know the cure for a headache.

But because sex is not quite available at this time, I will drink. For cheap they tell me. Which is good because I think I single-handedly supported the Miami economy last weekend. But I wouldn't want a single dollar back if it meant I had to trade a single memory.

Do you know who I am? Do you know why I am here?