Has anyone who said that the new Illinois smoking ban would make them quit actually quit smoking

I'm going with no.

Not one.

Here is what someone has to say about what changes will happen

I have pontificated plenty to my friends who don't care about what I think about the ban and may have actually written about it here but it is 4am as I write this and I ain't going to look.

I hate smoking. With a passion. Hotter than a thousand suns. But I also have a brain. And this brain tells me that letting the government infringe on people's choices, no matter how stupid, is BAD FUCKING NEWS!

Don't give me the it protects bar and restaurant employees. They choose to work in these establishments if they don't like it get a real job.

I like to drink. And I like to drink in bars. Most of which are smoky. If you say out long enough to make it to the four o'clock bars they are real smoky. Price of doing business. I expect to smell like an ashtray the next day. If all goes well I will be pulling on my shirt in some beautifully exotic woman's apartment the next morning thinking "God I smell bad, what a great night"

So tell the government to stay the fuck out of my social life. Next thing you know they will institute a 4 drink maximum at all bars and restaurants. The only thing that will accomplish is getting guys like me to consume a 1/2 bottle plus of SoCo before even leaving the house. That'll produce some fun results believe you me.

First they came for the Communists,
and I didn’t speak up,
because I wasn’t a Communist.
Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn’t speak up,
because I wasn’t a Jew.
Then they came for the Catholics,
and I didn’t speak up,
because I was a Protestant.
Then they came for me,
and by that time there was no one
left to speak up for me.

Fun to Watch

Found on Nerdy Laundry

They Both Love The Cock

And now for something completely different

I could post about the events of the last 4 days of my life because some of it is interesting but I just spent an hour writing an email giving recommendations for Chicago bars that I am now too tired to write anything else. So I am going to post the email here. It is by no means a complete list of cool bars in Chicago just some of the places I like to hang out.

Oh yeah, it's Spanish. Don't ask.


Para bailar

Green Dolphin Street- 2200 N Ashland. Tienen Salsa cada Martes. Es muy grande y muy divertido.

John Barleycorn- 3524 N Clark Street. Hay otra lugares pero me gusta el Clark Street bar el mejor.

Bella- 1212 N State. Es un restaurante y bar. Es muy occupado en el fin de semana. Tengo una amiga es la camarera en meircoles y sabado.

720- 720 N Wells Es muy grande y creo que tiene salsa muchas dias de la semema.

Bars in Wicker Park

EasyBar 1944 W Division. Actualmente este es mi barra favorita. El interior es elegante, pero el ambiente es relajado.

Innjoy- 2051 W Division. Que Divertido! Tienen bailando el fin de semana.

Piece- 1927 W. North Ave. Es el mejor lugar de Pizza en Wicker Park. Es un bar tambien.

Wicker Park tiene muchas barras y restaurantes. Esos estan unas que me gustan

Bars in Lincoln Park

Generalmente no me gusta Lincoln Park porque hay demasiado gente wero, pero a veces me voy a barras en Lincoln Park. Mi hermano vive en Lincoln Park. El conoce mucha mas barras en este barrio si quiere conocer mas lugares

Gin Mill- 2462 N Lincoln Ave

McGee's Tavern- 950 W. Webster

Tin Lizzie- 2483 N. Clark St

Bars in Wrigleyville

Hay muchas bars en Wrigleyville. Puedes emparque el coche cerca de Wrigleyfield a la esquina de Addison St. y Clark St. y camina en el direccion sud.

Mis favoritas son

Sluggers

The Bar Celona

Goose Island- Trata las papas fritas con ajo y queso parmesano


Diverso

Hogs-n-Honeys- Tienen un Toro Mecanico. Muy divertido si va con un grupo de amigos

Danny's- Fui aqui dos veces y el ambiente fue differente cada vez pero me gusta los dos veces.

Hawkeye's- Es un restaurante/bar deportes/bar colegio. Tengo amigos que trabajaron aqui.


Barras de 4 de la manana

Betty's

Estelle's- Del propetario de Easybar.

Raven's

Tai's til 4- Siempre tiene gente bizarro pero es divertido

Twenty minutes with Jackass

I am sure I have something important to say but it escapes me so you will get what ever comes to my mind.

Raymi should always come to mind, especially now that she is up for Canadian Blog of the Year. Go Vote! She has made it into the Best Blog, Best Personal Blog, and Best Humor Blog categories. Please vote. I believe voting starts today.

Cloverfield. See it. You may love it or hate it but it has to be seen.

I have to work tommorow.

Matador and I may both get laid on Friday. That's good. We both may end up bringing women who don't know each other back to my place. Possibly not so good.

Heath Ledger died. Way more to that story I am sure. Suicide is the rumor. In an apartment owned by Mary Kate Olsen also a rumor. I usually don't even blink at this stuff. Hollywood is trash but death at an early age tends to get my attention. What is with the age 28 and highly talented people?

Jimi Hendrix........28
Janice Joplin.........28
The Big Bopper....28
Shannon Hoon......28
Heath Ledger.....28
Brandon Lee.....28

Coincidence or is that just the age the Devil collects your traded soul.

Vegas Baby, Vegas

The Matador's birthday is Superbowl Sunday so I expect a near jail involving experience. Given that the only activity worse than working while hungover is flying while hungover, we will be going to Vegas at 3p the following afternoon. 3p? you say? Still hungover? Well the bars are open till 4a, and accomplishing the goal of sharing a bed with an attractive female will keep me up till 7am, and I probably won't sober up til 11ish, and if I am not up by then to call a cab and put more alcohol into my system I'm gonna be hella hungover. Good times.

Not nearly as good as drinking at the airport and enjoying the anticipation of landing in what most of us mistakenly imagine hell to be like, all the bad people doing all the bad things that got them sent to hell in the first place. But that my friends would be heaven. Wait, heaven on earth? So that's why I get euphoric just thinking about the place. Where else can you get scantily clad women to serve you drinks and accept the wooden nickel version of monopoly money as tip. Genius.

Conversation had yesterday...

Me: It's your Birthday, what's your agenda for vegas?

Matador: Drink.

Gamble.

What's your agenda? Did you mention something about a show?

Having friends whose pastime is consuming all available alcohol in the room could be the end of me. But as Jerry Garcia said, I may be going to hell in a bucket but at least I'm enjoying the ride.

Now I know why I need a fucking credit card

Fuck! Fuckity Fuck Fuck! I am forever lamenting on my bad luck and I finally get some good luck and it comes all wrapped in Fuck-you-you-can't-have-it-after-all Irony. Fuck you bad luck. Fuck you bad timing. Fuck you bad decisions. Fuck me why can't I catch a break.

OK, I feel better now. No, not really but I will stop bitching for about six seconds here.

Those of you who know me or have seen this blog before, know I am HUGE Cubs fan. HUGE.

I have been a Cubs fan since Nineteen Seventy ummummmeruh yeah anyway, a long fucking time. I'll admit that I kinda lost interest between the late eighties and the late nineties, because of marriage, a kid, and they well, sucked. But I came back way before the 2003 playoff run, and briefly considered suicide after last year's playoff debacle but the hot barmaid I was talking to immediately after Game 3 wouldn't have sex with me before I stabbed my self in the heart, so I decided to delay my life ending plans and go drinking instead.

What most people don't know is that my expletive deleted ex-wife left me with $36,000 in credit card debt. Less than $4000 of that had anything to do with me, and there was even a card in my name that I never applied for. That's illegal or something, I'm sure. A party foul at the very least. So, because of this I have adopted the philosophy that credit cards are evil, and there is even some documented proof to this effect I am sure. And since the advent of Debit Cards I longer look at credit cards as that piece of pie I want but can't have. But more like that fruit cake that you can never figure out who brought to the party but keep 'til February just in case someone asks if you liked so you could look at it and give some close to reality description of what flavors it may have tasted like if you took the Fear Factor plunge and ate a piece of the maggot infested, er, candied fruit filled bundle of what the fuck. Who invented that shit anyway?

But I digress. Credit Cards are evil. I don't want anything to do with them.

Until now.

The brief glimpse of good luck I received was in an email from cubs.com saying that because I was willing to be #12488888999234 on the waiting list for Cubs season tickets I am eligible to buy tickets for 9 games. NOW! Right now! Before they go on sale which would be great seeing as my ass may be in Vegas when they go on sale. So I click on the button that allows me to sit in a waiting room that refreshes every 15 seconds. I liked it better when it refreshes every 60 seconds. At least then you can get over the no one will take you to prom disappointment of finding out you have to spend another 60 seconds in waiting room hell. Over and over and over. Until cutting off your balls to bounce them off the wall just seems like something to do. But no, for this event it is 15 seconds. So you can countdown 10,9,8...3,2,1 and before you can finish being pissed off that you are still in the waiting room you are counting down 10, 9, 8, ad infinitum. Then what, what is this? Something I have never seen before.... A pick your game screen. An actual you can buy tickets screen. And I am overjoyed. Happiness fills the room. Until...

Until I remember that my bank account looks like Comiskey Park did three years ago. Empty. MT. Capital letters. Not a dime. Certainly not the $600 or so it would cost me to buy 2 tickets to each of 9 games and we won't even try to discuss 4 tickets per game. Or bleacher seats. Or any seats for that matter. Because I can't go. After taking monkey to Florida and spending who the fuck knows how much on Christmas presents, I am flat mother fucking broke. I mean my rent is paid, and I didn't bounce the child support check, by the skin of my teeth but still, It cleared. So while I wait for my next paycheck a scalper or some trustfund baby who doesn't even watch the games or own a Cubs shirt is buying my seats so he can sell them or impress some blond bimbo that he has bleacher seats. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.

Fuck. And even if there are still seats in 3 days when I get paid that money is already spoken for. Because instead of passing my hard earned cash to greedy corporate giants in Chicago I will be passing it to greedy corporate giants in Vegas. Woo Hoo at least there is some light at the end of the tunnel. I hope I get laid because going to Vegas is way better than going to a Cubs game but 9 Cubs games that's a close call. Oh wait the strippers at the Cubs games don't take off their clothes they just try and scam you for drinks and Skybox seats.

Yep, Vegas way better.

But I am still getting a damn credit card.

The Day in Review

Woke up late.

Had to borrow money, because I apparently have a harder time holding on to it than a fuckwad with a $300 a day coke habit.

Found out that my daughter's 15 year old friend drives a BMW Z4

Saw my mom and she is doing great after Knee replacement surgery. Best part of my day.

Accidentally ran a red light because I wasn't paying attention and it changed on me, only to see all sorts of flashing lights as the hidden cameras took pictures of my dumb ass blowing through the red light. That's ok I love giving $90 to the city.

Got into an argument with my daughter because she knows everything and I'm a doofus.

Left my living room light on so my stalker neighbor could call and say What are you doing, don't you miss me, Come ooooooover.

Saw The Machinist. Definitely worth watching.

Have insomnia and no fucking food in my house. I think it may be another Cinnamon Life and Miller Lite Night.

Some one tell me to go to bed before it is time to get up.

Welcome to Chicago

You haven't lived in Chicago until you've been to the Weiner Circle.

Wait, I take that back. You haven't lived until you've been to the Weiner Circle.



I found this through that blogger god
Tony

I hope someone else was drinking out of the SoCo bottle

Went to a party last night. Brought a bottle of SoCo and a bottle of vodka, because no one drinks that SoCo crap. Bringing vodka to a polish party is like bringing your own water to the beach. There were two 1/2 gallon unopened bottles of vodka there. And after dropping $24 at the ghetto liquors for a bottle of Absolut I remembered that I had a perfectly good unopened bottle of Grey Goose in the fridge. Although I glad i didn't bring it if it wasn't going to be opened anyway. For some reason most people weren't drinking. It seems that 18 of the 20 people there came in separate cars so every one was worried about driving home. I was the only one smart enough to take a cab, for all the good it did me.

I was invited by my friend the Hot Latina, HL for now, who's sole purpose was to set me up with the Hot Polish Girl, HPG, will definitely come up with something shorter if I see her again.

There was quite the cast of characters. There was a group of Polish Brazilians. They were apparently born in Poland and moved to Brazil at a young age. This group includes the host of the party Greg, who uses that name due to the length of his real name which I am sure I heard at least two different pronuciations of. His brother who kind of looked and acted like a creepy John Malkovich. Then there was the guy I swear is Michael Chiklis The true brazilian, the polish girl made a beeline to each guy to find out what they did for a living and whose English vocabulary was extensive while her grasp of English grammar made you look for the candid camera. The obnoxious OB nurse, who apparently works one block from my house. Good thing I will never end up in OB. There were a few other assorteds but they didn't stand out, kind of like the other 30 people stuck on the island in LOST. I think they are in the credits as window dressing. Speaking of which have you noticed that they've killed off all the tailies except for Bernard who makes a good go at getting himself whacked in the third season.

The party progesses. HL was lit when I got there. HPG apparently doesn't drink and works as a AA counselor for polish people. I don't know why thought I would be a great match for a girl who not only doesn't touch alcohol but deals with alcholics all day. Mmmmmm.....interesting.

We dance to odd music. HPG seems interesting but we probably spoke for all of 8 minutes. I tried to get HL out of there about 2am in an attempt to move the rapidly dwindling festivities to a nearby bar. I was almost 4 before I could drag her out of there. It was decided I was driving her car much earlier. I stopped drinking when i noticed that 3/4 of the SoCo bottle was empty. I swear someone had to have been drinking or poured it down the damn drain.

So we leave and we aren't in the car 5 minutes when HL starts talking about how horny she is but points out that she is not having sex with me. Which is actually fine with me. I have known her at least 8 years and although I liked her initially she is too much of tease, too self centered, and treats guys like shit. I decide to go to Betty's a local 5 o'clock bar but when I arrive there is no parking and my alcohol consumption is catching up with me so we call it quits and go back to my place, because my swirling HL is still in no shape to drive.

We arrive, she wants another drink, thank God for the Grey Goose. I pour my self a drink because if she is going to keep talking I am going to need one.

Neither of us finishes our drink, we end up naked, and she ends up 2 1/2 hours late for work. It wasn't pretty. Fun but not pretty. Here's hoping our drunken libidos didn't fuck up a good friendship.


HL and HPG


Chiklis and HL


Malkovich and HPG

Top of the Mornin'

I actually woke up at 7:30am on a Saturday without an alarm clock. I didn't get out of bed until 7:50, but you know baby steps.

Monkey still isn't out of bed despite her annoying dad going in there to wake her up. She is going to her church today to bake cookies with the youth group kids to take to nursing homes in the area. I wonder how many cookies they are going to eat before they make it out of the kitchen.

My day is full of things to do but coherent plan to do them. Some of the things on the list include, drop off Monkey, breakfast, go see my mom who is in the hospital after knee replacement surgery, put money in the bank so the child support check doesn't bounce, clean my apartment, clean my parent's house, find a wingman for tonight, pick up Monkey, go bowling or to a movie, drop off Monkey, go to party.

Hot Latina, a friend of mine invited me to a party. Says she's got some polish girl she wants to introduce me to. I hate set ups, but love polish girls so no complaints yet. Rico is working till 11, so a possibility just a late one. Matador is working all night. Shaft is married. Bobby is on lockdown pending the LSAT in Feb. And Horse Cock is apparently living in Miami. I still do not have the whole story on that.

Monkey is up so I will join the land of the productive. Have a great day.

New Year's Wishes

May the IRS lose your data, forgetting you even exist.

May the Department of Homeland Security give you back all of the civil rights you lost to the terrorists.

May Jessica Biel break into your house and molest you in your bed.

May all your clothes be made in America, with high quality and no funky smell straight off the rack.

May your underwear never again ride up your ass.

May you never again have to stand in a mile long line for the cashier because the store is too cheap to hire enough employees.

May love grab your ass and may happiness cop a feel.

May you win the lottery on the same day that Ed McMahon shows up at your door to tell you that you've won the Publisher's Clearinghouse grand prize.

May your sheets smell of sex and may success ravage your bank account.

May your tears be that of orgasmic release.

May your farts smell like flowers.

May the problems you had disappear in downtown Memphis in a bad neighborhood, never to be seen again.

And may your favorite team win the championship!

All stolen fromMemphis Steve because this is what I wish for you and all your friends. Except the fart thing. It wouldn't be quite as funny if it didn't smell bad.

I'm just askin'

Can fat people turn around in airplane bathrooms. Do they even go into airplane bathrooms. I was in an airplane bathroom just short of two weeks ago and when you go into an airplane bathroom you have to back in so you can lock the door behind you. And because I'm a stander, not a squatter I had to turn around to pee. While doing so my arms brushed against the side of the, let's say, minuscule bathroom, and it was at this time I wondered....HOw the hell to fat people turn around in here. How do they even get the damn door closed. I will admit to being thicker around the middle than I like but at 6'2" and 205lbs still occasionally described as thin. Unfortunately a good 40+% of the population is shorter and heavier than I am so how the fuck do they use these damn bathrooms.

And now that we're on the subject, how do people fuck in these things. If we are to believe all the mile high club stories, can you explain the logistics for me. I mean seriously, how do you fuck with out the sink faucet running up the girl's ass. I know some may view this as a bonus but unfortunately most of the women I know complain about a finger in their ass, I can't imagine their response to an ice cold bathroom fixture being run up their bum. But maybe in the heat of the moment and while fulfilling their inner airplane fantasy they either accept or ignore the sodomy.

Anyway, good night and good luck.

I must have pissed off the alcohol gods

Because I have a class V hangover right now and rather than being able to lay on the couch and watch the last three episodes of LOST Season 3, I have to go to my mom's to move shit and then go bowling with my daughter. I am sure that the balls are going to feel like a hundred pounds the way my head does but it is not Monkey's fault that I tried to consume a bar's worth of alcohol in 5 hours. I then took the Matador's car keys because he was slurring his words and I wasn't. I'm sure the officer would have liked that logic. And of course we were at a bar that I didn't know how to get back from so his drunk ass was giving me directions. Talk about the blind leading the blind. I did somehow manage to get to Matador's place without stopping for food.



Speaking of bowling, Wii bowling is a dangerous sport. I have seen not one but two patients who have been injured playing that game. The first had muscle spasms in her neck and the second was a 70+ year old woman who lost her balance and fell while playing. And I heard about a kid who fell while trying to kick a field goal playing Wii Football.

Good Times.

Weird Shit

Holy Fuck a Moley. The weirdest thing just happened. I was just watching porn... No that isn't the weird thing. Don't be shocked, you watch it too. I was watching porn and it starts out with the couple and athe camera man entering a room from a hallway, I just thought it was an apartment the small size didn't seem odd at the time there was a bed that seemed oddly familiar or maybe just odd, low to the ground, wide wooden edge, yada, yada I was paying way more attention to the girl on the bed than the surroundings until of course they widen the shot and I could see the shelf above the bed, the shelf with the fake apples stacked in the shape of a pyramid and I thought... those are the same apples...THAT WERE IN THE HOTEL ROOM WHEN I WAS IN MIAMI!!!!!! Holy crap! Then I recognized the bed. Then they panned and I could see out the window and it was the same scene I could see from our hotel room when we were there. Holy Fuck! That's just weird.



I was a different room because we had two beds but still. Cool and weird at the same time. I can't wait to tell the boys they are going to crack up.

Funny Shit

I got on line to post about my goals for 2008 and which goals for 2007 I have actually accomplished. Instead I wandered through my list of feeds I have in Sharp reader and found this..

Me and My IUD

And had to link to it because it has to be the funniest post title so far this year.

Enjoy!

Fuhgetabouit

**SPOILER ALERT**

I know I am probably the only person on the planet who had not yet seen Season 6 Part II of the Sopranos but in case I am not, stop reading here.

Because I am pissed the fuck off. I want to put my boot up the ass of whoever decided to end this series and of the guy who wrote the last episode. Unless the writers for the last episode, and the last season are the best we have, in that case good riddance. Fuck they couldn't have done any better. I know it would have been hard to wrap all this up neatly without making it some fagass dream sequence like St Elsewhere or Newhart, but did you have to leave it open ended? Did Tony live happily ever after? Did Tony go to jail? Or did he get whacked? That's my bet. I bet he got whacked right there in front of his family just like he did to Phil Leotardo.

Although I'll have to admit it was a great scene. The kid vomiting was a bit much but the thought of Phil's skull getting crushed by his own SUV was pretty sweet. I liked the scene of Sil getting hit better. Having the crowd watching your assassination attempt full of strippers is a nice homage to your life, don't you think. Patsy running away was pretty pussy though. That's the difference between mob guys and soldiers or true hit men. They would have been running toward there assassins not away from them. Kill or be killed. That's what I think.

Overall fairly disappointed. Although it does make me want to go back and watch the first season. Which is part of their goal. Unfortunately the first season is the only one I don't own. So money into these bastards' pockets.

I almost forgot the spoilers.

Chris finally gets his comeuppance for his drug use. He had more near death experiences than any other character during the series but he couldn't avoid death forever.

Paulie comes way closer to death than he even realizes.

The sixth season involves more whacking than in the back room of a porn shop.

John Sack dies but it is less than spectacular.

There are finally some naked girls with real tits, but not at the Bing. I think fake tits are a requirement there. Way more than your average strip club.

Meadow keeps getting better looking the older she gets. But then gets engaged to yet another dweeb.

AJ gets himself yet another hot babe.

And it all just fades to black.

Fucked up Fridays

Woke up Friday at 9:47am to my Dad's where the fuck are you phone call. I was supposed to be at the funeral home for my Aunt's funeral at 9:30am. And I was a pall bearer. Fuck! They couldn't have said it better in 4 Weddings and a Funeral. Fuck! I was showered, shaved, dressed in a suit and out the door in under 25 minutes. Jumped in the car and headed for.....the gas station. The warning screen in my car said Bajo Nivel de Gasolina. Fuck. Drive to the nearest gas station to find a large piece of machinery digging up the earth. Maybe I should pay more attention when I drive that way. That way I wouldn't drive out of my way because it's closer. So now I am driving further out of my way because now the next closest gas station is further from the expressway. I could have gotten back to Division and gone to a gas station near the on ramp but my gas gauge isn't just on low, it is on holy fuck you stupid mother fucker you are riding on fumes and I am going to laugh at you when you run out of gas low.

I pump my damn gas from what has to be the slowest gas pump known to man. My cousin calls she is lost. My dad calls, how close are you? 45 minutes. Dead silence. See you at the church. OK. I make it there in 30.

I am surprised to see that my cousin and her family are actually dressed up. Well dressed up for them. At the wake the day before my cousin was wearing whatever she fell into that day, including gym shoes and no socks. Her oldest son was wearing jeans and some t-shirt with a dragon on it. Her daughter sweat pants and a sweat shirt with stains on it. And the youngest son who is six but cannot speak was in what appeared to be a pajama top and jeans.

At the funeral my cousin actually managed a dress, not a nice dress but at least a dress. She was still in gym shoes and no socks. Her husband was in a bright green dress shirt and an almost matching tie. No jacket. He probably chose this because the oldest son was wearing his nicer more appropriately subdued blue dress shirt and matching tie. The jacket was probably also dad's, gauging from the size. Oh and gym shoes. Everybody owns at least one pair of not gym shoes don't they.

If I would have written this on Friday I would have barely alluded to the white trashiness of my cousin and her family because I was a little to preoccupied.

After the lunch that was a very nice place in a suburb I have never heard of, I headed home in Friday afternoon traffic. I was a good forty plus miles from home sweet home. By then the oh fuck I can't believe I'm late adrenaline rush had long passed and the general anxiety and nervousness of attending a family member's funeral was fading and the effects of the just consumed large meal and only 8-9 hours of sleep in 3 days were taking effect. The radio seemed vaguely distant and my eyelids were fairly heavy and I actually remember thinking I hope I don't fall asleep.

Just before I RAN INTO A FUCKING PICKUP TRUCK! FUCK! Double fuck! That'll wake you up in a hurry. I first slam the car into park and then back into drive and pull over to the fucking shoulder. I really don't need this right now. As the pickup pulled forward I noticed that there was no apparent damage to his truck. What I also noticed but did not appreciate until I got out of the car was the 9-12 inches of steel trailer hitch. That must have had a good time tearing into the front of my car. My grill looked like Leon Spinks after going a good 15 rounds. And my hood was lifted up like a bad toupee on a windy day! Fuck. Like I need this. Did I say that already. Fuck!

The good thing is that I didn't fuck up this guys truck. Luckily I was able to say good bye to him with an apology and a handshake. Now I am going to have to pay to fix my damn car. Don't ask me why I don't have collision insurance I don't have an answer.

Fuck!

I know how I am going to pay for the damn car. I just don't know how I am going to do the things I was planning to do with the money.

It is going to be a grand new year.

Merry Christmas

The Rest of the Story

Have you ever had to go to 2 holiday parties in the same day. 12 hours apart. That 12 hours really doesn't give you the recovery time you would think it would.

The first party was for the night shift at work, mostly put together by the nurses but there were techs, registration people, myself, and the doc that was on shift that night. I was scheduled to get off at 6am the nurses at 7am. They made it there before I did. We had a semi-decent night until Joliet IL decided to vomit on us at about 430am. I finished up at 830, and was quite ready for a drink by that time.

About 10 of us showed up, Me, Matador, Mama Goose, Rondog, Danimal, Jaybird, Kathy, H, Blake, Natalia, and The Songster. All ready for a good drink, and good food. And we got both. Writing this I realize I could of taken way more pictures than I did. Of people and of the spread. Matador brought two pans full of roast beef and one of turkey, and rolls for sammiches. I had two beef sandwiches, potato salad and quiche and said I would have turkey sammich on the second round. Matador gave me a quizzical look and said dude, pointing at the sandwich in my hand, that is round two. "No it's not," I say "I didn't stop eating." "If you keep going without a break it is still the same round" "Kinda like with sex"

In addition to the eating drinking and joking around, we played Left, Right, Center.

To start the game, you need three LCR cubes, at least three players, and three chips for each player. Coins can be used in place of chips for additional players. After determining which player starts the game, the first player rolls three cubes. The number of L's, C's or Dots rolled dictate where the player's chips go.

* The number of L's indicates the amount of chips to be passed to the player on the left.
* The number of R's indicates the amount of chips to be passed to the player on the right.
* The number of C's indicates the amount of chips to be passed to the center or "pot".
* The DOTS are neutral and players neither pass nor place chips in the pot for any DOTS rolled.

When a player has only 1 or 2 chips, he rolls only 1 or 2 cubes. If a player has no chips, he is still in the game, but passes the cubes to the next player. The last player with chips is the winner, does not roll the cubes and wins the center "pot".

Those are the official rules. We follow those rules with two exceptions. 1- We play with dollar bills instead of the provided chips. 2-We require that the last person with money rolls a dot to win. If he/she rolls an L or R the money moves around the table. If he/she rolls a C the money goes into the pot and everyone re-antes and we start over until someone wins getting the money from the new pot being added to the old pot. This can make for some interesting games.

Speaking of interesting games. A month or two ago Matador, Mama Goose and Rondog decided to up the ante given they were playing with only three people. First with five dollar bills, then twenties, making the pot $90 each round. Well as fate would have it the pot rolled over twice and Mama Goose went home with $360. Nice work, eh?

Well, yesterday Paulie, the owner of the bar, was suggesting playing LRC with Benajamins. Needless to say, no one took him up on it. What we did settle on was LRC with Fives. With 8 people. That's $120 floating around in the pot. Paulie almost took it but Jaybird pulled out the win. The lost of $15 a piece in a matter of 5-8 minutes dulled everyone's appetite for LRC so we moved down to Ones and played several rounds with 8 people. Hilarity ensued. In one game the last dollar went to the left four times before coming back right once and landing on Mama Goose. Who managed to win 4 pots in a row. Then we took a break to concentrate on drinking. Which we did as some of the less hard core drinkers and those with responsibilities slowly left the premises leave me, Matador, Mama Goose Jaybird and Caveman to keep the faith and drink for the cause. Another Co-worker PornStar showed up to give us an influx of new blood. Which spurred a round of phone calls by the Matador to try and increase the size of the party. Which lead us to the discovery that his ears get quite red when is talking to a girl he likes.

It was about this time (11a or noon, I think) that one of the bartender's mentioned that we weren't drinking at our usual breakneck pace. There is nothing like inspirational words to get you back on your game. Matador and I commenced drinking like it was our job. Matador claimed that he was drinking fast the whole time but I am pretty sure we were at the same pace the whole time.

Have you ever noticed that the amount of money you put in the Juke Box is directly proportional to the number of drinks in your system. I bet the Jaybird dropped a good twenty playing songs. But his selection was good so no complaints.

Influenced by a good soundtrack and increased alcohol levels we played a few more rounds of Left Right Center. More laughter. More won rounds by Mama Goose. Mamy more drinks and more checking of the watch by me. In addition to the Night Shift Christmas Party, the physician group I work for was having it's Holiday Dinner last night. Actually they had it two nights so everyone could go. I was planning on leaving but everyone kept buying me more drinks and then after about 8 or so rounds of LRC, I won one and feeling bad about taking money and leaving I played another round. Which I won. Sometimes you can't win for losing. I had another drink on the table due to the apparent universal urge to buy everyone another round. And at $2.50 u-call-it's it wasn't hard to do. At one point in the day Mama Goose bought the entire bar a drink and it only cost her $20. Not being one to leave a man behind I pick up my drink and begin to pound it when my eyes almost popped of my head. I made a face and said wow. Caveman with a big smirk on his face asks You like that? Fucking Bastard. You bought that round? He laughs. Caveman has gotten in to the habit of only ordering me triples whenever he orders me a drink. I choke down the drink. With my head now spinning I jump into my car and head back to the call room at the hospital.

Matador wearing his new Christmas Present

Mama Goose and her winnings

Danimal

Natalia

Mama Goose and more Winnings

Us


I shower and change in my suit which I luckily had the forethought to bring with me the night before. Somehow while showering I managed to get plenty of water on the floor soaking the only pair of socks I had with me. I remembered a change of underwear, but not a change of socks. Now in a suit and dress shoes sans socks I head out of the building stopping the the doctor's lounge to google map directions to the restaurant. So I am sitting in there. loaded and sockless, surrounded by attending physicians. I have never wanted gum or sock so much in my entire life. I scooted forward under the desk as much as possible to hide my hillbilly dress code. I got directions and bolted. Not having my ID I had to walk the long way out of the hospital. Past the ER. Not my preferred move. I of course end up seeing people I work with. Luckily when people who only see you in pajamas see you in a suit, they aren't looking at your feet. I get my ass into the car and make a beeline for Wal-Mart which is only a mile away. My parking karma was still intact and I got a parking space only 3-4 spaces away from the door. And promptly fell asleep. I think I even laid the seat back. Why I don't know. The emergency nap light must have gone off in my head.

To update you on the time line, I was up from about noon on Tuesday started work at 9pm, worked 11 1/2 hours. And then went drinking.

I had left the bar between 5-5:30 and got out of the hospital about 6 or so. Was supposed to be at the dinner at 6:30

I woke up at 7. Now with a sense of panic and confusion, I really don't remember going to sleep, I go tearing into Wal-Mart in search of socks. I now know why I usually pay a lot for socks. The cheap socks suck ass. Major ass. I get back out to the parking lot and somehow remember where it was I parked my damn car. I head toward Naperville thinking about whether I should even bother at this point, being on pace to show up about 1 1/2 hours late. But that really isn't anything new for me. Luckily the alcohol in my system allowed me to shout down the logic in my system and I continued on my way. I arrive at Sullivan's at 8pm. As it turned out the restaurant was really busy and they had only say down 10-15 minutes before my arrival. The main disadvantage to arriving late to this type of function is you don't get to chose your seat. The only seat available was at the head of the table and next to the boss' wife. Oh, Joy. I have only met her a few times before and have never said anything other than hello to her. Mainly because she always seems to have quite the sour disposition. I was not expecting a great time and vowed to keep my intoxicated mouth shut. I sat I ordered a drink and promptly moved to the other end of the table to tak to people worth talking to. Luckily the other end of the table was quite far as there were about 25 people in our group.

The way cute waitress found me with my drink and as she presented it to me said "The bartender poured it a little strong so if you want me to make it a tall I will. My look must have said something to the effect of "You gotta be fucking kidding me" because she said "or you could just thank me" "Or I could give you a kiss on each cheek" She laughed an oh so cute laugh and moved on. Can you tell I was completely enamored. Actually all our waitresses were hot, Chelsea not the hottest of the group but definitely the best personality and smile. I go back my seat make small talk with Boss' wife and Sir Lancelot's wife when Major Dan (not to be confused with Danimal) asks me about my car keys. This is a good story. Just one of many good stories that seems not to make it to my blog. I move over to him and his wife to regale them with the part of the story they were unaware of. Just as I was finishing the story our waitress kicked me out of that area because I was standing between the wall and the table which is their only route to serve that side of the table. About this time she asks me how I like my drink. I tell her it is good but not strong. She gives me a look. Dinner comes. It is delicious. 12 oz of perfectly cooked cow carcass. Covered in Gorgonzola cheese (a first for me, I definitely recommend it) and garlic butter which is by far one of the greatest inventions of man. I drool, I eat. I start talking about one of my greatest regrets. About 6 months ago I was at this same restaurant for a dinner sponsored by a pharmaceutical company, read free. The special on that particular night was a 16 oz filet covered with all kinds of fatty goodness that I can't remember at that moment but I remember that the description not only made me drool but my stomach growl. Until I heard the price. $65. For a steak. I am not sure why I cared when big business was picking up the tab. But Sixty Five Dollars. For a steak. It is this point into the story that I say For sixty five dollars it should be brought to me by a naked woman. At which Boss' wife gives me a look and Sir Lancelot's wife says "That's disgusting" I'm sorry did I say that out loud. I quickly finish the steak story and change the subject to something less visual and less offensive. Who brought me to a family restaurant? My other folly was discussing alcohol in front of boss' wife. When the waitress, my future wife, brings me my second drink, I take a sip and say now that's a drink. Chelsea, I sure that's her name, said I ordered a SoCo rocks with a splash of coke because that apparently how you like it. I go on to talk about how I have too many bartender friends and the best and worst thing about having friends who are bartenders.

They pour really strong drinks. Chelsea brought me several last night.

I manage to have a very pleasant conversation with Boss's wife about her son. I am now his biggest fan at this point. She told me at least two really cool stories about him that I will skip because it is 2:47am, I have been typing for over and hour, and I have to be up at 7am for a funeral. Why do they always make funerals so early in the morning. Is is so the rest of us wish we were dead?

The only time I drop the F bomb or any swear word at all was the Boss' fault. He mentioned Fukudome, the Cubs newest player. Why the the Cubs would acquire a player whose name phonetically is Fuck-You-Do-Me I will never know. And I said so. I think my profanity was excused by the women. Both the Boss and wife repeated my pronunciation. The boss with more enthusiasm and sense of humor than his wife.

Soon after dinner was over those with children and no stamina started to get up to leave. There was Iceberg and his wife, Songster and his wife, Clark Kent and his wife- who is a hottie by the way, Major Dan, Sir Lancelot and their wives also left. Which left us with Boss, Boss' wife, ChrisSand, Tammaaaaaaaaay and her husband, and creepy doc. We consolidated and talked for a little longer and then Boss, wife and creepy doc left and the rest of us went to the bar where we were told we could smoke cigars but it was last call so we could only get one drink in.

We found more accomodating facilities at Features around the corner. Where it was both open and cigar friendly. In more way than one. Not only do they allow cigars, they have 14 foot ceiling and I wasn't able to smell the vile thing from only 5 feet away. I hate cigars but hate that the government can tell you where you can and cannot smoke. I hope this law that is going into effect Jan 1 gets repealed. I don't have any true hope for that though because now that it is law it would be political suicide for any politician to try to oppose it.

Anyway the husband's of the two women who I wanted to talk to the least turned out to be quite pleasant to talk to. Luckily the ladies sat by themselves while the men sat it the comfy chairs smoking and drinking. As it should be. So after yet three more drinks, I was able to not only find my car but the expressway and my house. I think I was way more tired than drunk at this point pace having slowed considerably.

As soon as I arrived home I stripped off my suit and did a face plant into my bed.

And that my dears, is the rest of the story.

Heroes

If I haven't mentioned it, I am currently 100% Bat-shit crazy addicted to Heroes. Borrowed Season 1 from brother around Thanksgiving and it sat next to the TV for at least a week. After finally deciding to sit my ass down and watch it. Six hours later I felt like one of Bennet's abductee's. At least I knew what happened and what happened was Holy Fuck. The first episode really draws you in. And keeps you sucked in through the first 3-4 episodes. Around 4-5 it kind of levels off and you are just waiting for what you know this show can be. And in episode 8 or 9 you get it. And after that it is hold on to you hats folks the ride is about to begin. I think I watched the last eight episodes in one day. Or at least what I thought were the last eight episodes. I got to episode 22 and thought what? this is too measley pedestrian boring, what I expected to be the last episode. Yeah my jackass Brother gave me the series without Disk 7. I have yet to kill him for this but it is definitely on my to-do list.

Finally got to watch the last episode at Matador's place because he has Netflix and 17 hours of downloadable video a month. Last episode kicked so much ass I drove home signed up for Netflix, they are currently offering unlimited downloads, and promptly watched 3 episodes of Season 2. Only 3 seasons because it was at least 4 in the fucking morning at this point and even batshit crazy vampires like me need to sleep occasionally.

My official review of Heroes Season 1

Fantastic, stunning, imaginative, blah, blah, blah, that is what everyone says.

Favorite character of Season 1: Hiro. Hands down. No one makes you laugh or cheer like Hiro.

Most hated character of Season 1: No brainer, Sylar. But the networks now that hating a character will draw you in as much as loving a character. Especially when you know half way through the season that he is going to get his ass kicked.

Most whiny, get over it already character(s) of Season 1: Parkman, Nikki. Come on people grow some balls already.

The character you actually love to hate: Noah Bennet

Most improved Character of Season 1: Peter Patrelli

I was going to continue with season 2 but it is time to eat, and we all know how much I love to eat.