The [Cherry] Ride

Goodbye Chicago, Goodbye [Cherry] Ride

2009-08-24T22:21:00.005-05:00

GOODBYE CHICAGO

It's Monday night and I'm tired and heading to bed. It has been a long, emotional day of packing, moving stuff and saying goodbyes.

Tomorrow morning I'll be up at the Crack, leaving Chicago and heading east to DC. In many ways, this move has been a long time in the making, and yet even 6 months ago I wouldn't have believed it. The next 16 months of school will be an adventure. It will be intense, scary, (hopefully) amazing and a little fun. Over the last few weeks I've been alternately excited, nervous, sad, giddy, and petrified about moving back to DC and going back to school.

I'm really going to miss Chicago. The last 100 days have been so truly great; it has been the best summer of my life. When I moved back to Chicago 3.5 years ago, I don't think I would have imagined that I'd miss it as much as I already do. I'll miss the summers; the swimming at Ohio St. Beach; the different neighborhoods and festivals; the pizza; the salty and chocolatey smell of the Chicago River in Spring; the dirty hipster boys & girls; the late-night bicycle rides through River West, Logan Square and Roscoe Village.

GOODBYE [CHERRY] RIDE

As I say goodbye to this city and this chapter of my life, I'm also saying goodbye to this blog. I started the [C]R around the same time I moved back to Chicago, and I think it is fitting that I end it now too. For the most part, this blog has been a great source of enjoyment for me.

The past 3.5 years have been kinda strange, and it has been great documenting it through this blog, and of course I've met some great people because of it. But since I haven't been blogging much in the last year, I feel like it is time to do something new.

Thanks to everyone who has stopped by and said hello.

I'm not giving up on blogging, I'm just doing it at a different location -- new life chapter, new blog. For those who are interested, send me an e-mail (cherry_ride@hotmail.com) and I'll send you the link.

Take care, Chicago. And take care, folks.

PROPER!!!

They're Not Lying - It Really Is Better in the Bahamas

2009-08-21T09:17:00.004-05:00

[Yep, this is really where we stayed.]

Instead of spending my last possible weekend in Chicago hanging out on the beach, grabbing some good grub, and enjoying a few libations, I travelled to the Bahamas with my family where I instead... hung out on the beach, grabbed some good grub, and enjoyed a few libations. Life this summer has been tough.

The Miss Universe Pageant was happening and hosted at our hotel. Which might sound cool, but it wasn't. For example, when we wanted to ride The Current, we had to wait for those bitches to finish up some lame contest/PR stunt on the ride site before we could get on. I was this close to calling management.*

However, at one point in the weekend I saw Miss New Zealand walking through the hall (along with some other contestants) and yelled out, "Kiwis Rule!" That declaration seemed to startle and confuse her, not unlike that whole panda sneezing You Tube vidja.

Other highlights from the weekend included:

Sharing the flight from Chicago to Miami with Erik Estrada. Would have loved to approach him and ask if he had a license for that taco.**
Sitting a table over from Debbie - sorry, Deborah - Gibson at dinner.
Seeing Dick Vitale at the resort's Ben & Jerry's (hun?). Would have loved to approach him and say, "That Chunky Monkey's awesome, baby!"***
Skinny dipping - not once, but twice - in the ocean at midnight.
I also learned that I might possibly be allergic to shellfish/seafood. So I've got that going for me.

Also, I realize that doing a swim workout while buzzed can be fun and make the time go by really fast. But that's a whole 'nuther post....

* Not really, no. I was too drunk.

** Please tell me somebody gets this reference.

*** Not really, no. I was too drunk.

Welcome Back to Portland...

2009-08-01T10:52:00.004-05:00

... where Dinner consists of 3 PBRs and one of these:

That's right, it's the "O Captain My Captain" Captain Crunch donut from Voodoo.

And lunch today was Fire on The Mountain.

It's good to be back!

I Owe The City of Chicago Approx. $1,680 in Parking Tickets

2009-07-27T17:49:00.004-05:00

This might come as a shock, but I can sometimes live in a state of denial.

Here's a current example: Every July 1, the city issues a new parking permit sticker and a resident has a 2-week window - until July 15th - to purchase the new permit and stick it to his/her car windshield before the cops start passing out tickets.

Then there's me, who thinks that because I'm leaving Chicago in mid-August I won't bother buying the new permit. I mean, why pay the $75 for an annual sticker that I'll only need for 4 weeks?

So like clockwork, July 15th rolls around and I go out to my car and lo & behold there's a ticket - a $120 ticket - on my windshield. I curse, put the ticket in my glove compartment and go about my day. The next day, I go out to my car and lo & behold there's a $120 ticket on my windshield. You see where this is going.

Damn, I think. Maybe my strategy for flying under the radar and quietly slipping out of the city with neither a '09-'10 sticker nor tickets should be re-thought.

"Well duh," a friend of mine told me that day. "How do you think the city makes its money? Off the fines from idiots like you who are too lazy to get their stickers on time."

But before I had the chance to buy a new sticker - you know, because these days I am so busy - I racked up a crapload of these bitches. Last Tuesday, in fact - I got three - three! - because I'd been driving around and parking in different parts of the city. That's $360 worth of ticket fines on one day alone.

At the City Clerk Office I told the woman I was moving in a month and because of this, was there some kind of temporary or prorated sticker I could buy instead? "Nuh-uh" she said. "We don't do that here."

Law-abiding citizens would pay their tickets.

I may not be one of those people.

Instead, I'm thinking of making cute little origami swans out of them, then passing them out as party favors at my going away party next month.

Is This Thing On?

2009-07-07T06:11:00.003-05:00

With Operation G.O.N.A.D.S. in full swing, last night I attended my friend Katy's Movieoke Night at the Whistler with my friend Jason.

Katy has been running Movieoke there for several months, as a fundraiser for her Vintage Theater Collective, and it is a kick in the pants. For those of you living in Chicago, you should check it out next time (Here's the Facebook page for it.)

In the past I've done scenes from Airplane ("I like my coffee black, like my men"), Good Will Hunting ("How ya like them apples?"), and the sweet American Psycho "Huey Lewis" monologue.

To say I brought the house down with any of my renditions would be, well, a slight exaggeration.

Anyway, last night I did the answering machine scene from Swingers (see it here). Before it started, I told the crowd I was dedicating my scene to my friend Jason, "who will always be the Vince Vaughn to my Jon Favreau."

Dead silence.

"Really? That's all I get?"

Dead silence.

[Me tapping the microphone.] Umm, is this thing on?

Screw you, self-important Whistler hipsters.

So I Am Officially Old Today...

2009-06-11T00:40:00.003-05:00

... big deal.

I'm going out to eat a cheeseburger.

And dance around my apartment in my panda costume, singing along to the Cure's "Why Can't I Be You?"

PROPER, bitches!

GONADS

2009-06-08T08:27:00.004-05:00

OK, so the rumours of my return might have been slightly exaggerated.

But I'm back, and here to tell you why I have not been blogging much these last few weeks.

GONADS.

I have not been blogging because of GONADS.

GONADS is an acronym for "Go Out Nightly And Do Shit." Which I have been following quite regularly these past two weeks.

As this is my last summer in Chicago, I made a pledge to myself to take advantage of everything the city has to offer by, well, going out every night and doing stuff. Instead of having a quiet Wednesday evening at home, for example, I am pushing myself to instead be out and about. Visiting friends. Going for a beer. Or a stroll. Or a ballgame. You get the picture. The goal is for when I leave for DC at the end of August, I can say that I had the best Chicago summer of my life. Thanks to GONADS.

I'm thinking of making t-shirts. Who is with me?

Open Letter to My Statistics Professor

2009-05-05T11:32:00.005-05:00

Dear Professor:

You and your Statistics class can go Suck It.

Seriously.

I'm not kidding: Suck. It. Hard.

Your final class and exam this Friday night cannot come fast enough for me. You know what the two best days of this semester have been/will be?

1) The day I got my acceptance letter to Georgetown; and

2) This Friday night, after I hand in your Stats Final and walk out of your fucking classroom forever and never have to think about Statistics and your shitty class ever again. Seriously.

What's that you say? That I will have to use Statistics in my future career? Actually, no. No I won't. So you can go back to Sucking It again. You saying that I might need to calculate a binomial probability at some point in my future career is as ridiculous as those college counselors who say that "college is the real world." Total fucking joke.

You want to see a regression line? Here - here's my equation for a regression line. I'll regress my line all over your sorry ass if you'd like.

PS - Oh, and my P value for a Z-test? Right here buddy.

Have a good summer. Smooches.

The [Cherry] Ride FAQ

2009-04-29T07:03:00.004-05:00

Yeah, I'm back. Some of you have questions. Let me attempt to answer them....

So, why are you back?

- Hell if I know. It is going to be an interesting couple months/year ahead of me, and I want to keep a record of it, I suppose.

What did you do while you were on hiatus?

- Went to the Obama election rally in Grant Park.

- Did really well in school last semester, despite the concept maps.

- Stopped working full-time so I could go to school full-time instead*. In fact, pretty much stopped working altogether.

- Cursed the Chicago winter - daily from about Nov. 1 through last week.

- Bought the new Kelly Clarkson album. Don't judge, bitches.

- Went to a friend's wedding in Boston with some old friends, including ReckenRoll. And let me tell you that woman knows her way around a sushi menu.

- Got accepted to my #1 and #3 nursing school choices (screw you, OHSU!) and am procrastinating on making a final decision.

I used to see/hear/get texts/get comments on my blog from you, but you pretty much stopped going out/calling/texting/reading my blog over the last six months. Dude, what the hell happened to you?

- I have no good answer for this. I just sorta checked out, I guess. On the plus side though, I really got my money's worth on my Netflix subscription.

Anything new and exciting to report?

- Every Monday and Wednesday, I eat a lunch consisting of: corn nuts, two chocolate donuts, and a Coke Cherry Zero big gulp.

- On a daily basis need to fight the urge to Stab somebody. Just for the hell of it.

What's troubling you these days?

- Why it is so impossible to find a pair of flat-front, low-rise slim fit khakis? I mean, WTF people?

- Glenn Beck

What's in store for the summer?

- I'll be staying here in Chicago through mid-August and I've developed some pretty "ambitious" plans, which include:

- An Abnormal Psych class M-Th mornings.

- Buying a wetsuit for daily 2-mile swims at Ohio Street beach after class.

- A Rowing class with the Lincoln Park Rowing Club a few nights a week in June.

- Maybe a Fencing class in July.

- Pitchfork!

- Pre-reading on Pathophysiology while laying in the sand at North Ave. and Hollywood beaches.

- A book a week, every week (not counting the above mentioned Abnormal Psych and Pathophysiology).

- Summer shandys, shorts and flip-flops. Every day.

What do you think of this whole Swine Flu thing?

- People just need to calm down and wash their hands. That, and maybe start amassing bottled water and firearms for the coming armageddon.

* Some may say this decision was mine to make; others may say the decision was pretty much made for me. Details, really.

No, I Will Not Follow You on Twitter (Or: Why My Blogroll Has Shrunk)

2009-04-27T01:21:00.008-05:00

Sometimes when I read my last post before my hiatus, I get a laugh at the parts where I wrote "I'll probably be gone for a month or two..." and "... But I won't be completely gone - I'll just live vicariously through those on my blogroll."

Hah. Turns out, I lied about both.

Up until last week, I hadn't looked at another blog since the day I stopped writing mine. So earlier today when I decided to start catching up on my favorites, I was surprised to see that some of them no longer existed, or are also on hiatus. Or worse, they're no longer "blogs" and instead are "Tumblrs" or "Twitters" or "microblogs" or some shit like that. Dude, I can barely feign interest in your regular-size blog; what makes you think I want to follow your cutesy little one?

See, you have to understand: The last time I was blogging I was still heavily involved in the hi-tech industry. Now I'm not. The part of me that used to care about fancy high-falutin' crap like that has been replaced with - indifference. In fact, I'm actually regressing in my technology lifestyle - for example, I traded in my iPhone for a shitty $9 Go Phone (not kidding). So your request to follow you on Twitter? Not going to happen. But good luck with that.

My blogroll has been adjusted accordingly. You're welcome.

Don't Call It A Comeback...

2009-04-24T11:13:00.004-05:00

So I have been planning a return. Maybe next week.

There's a lot* to catch up on, but today is a big day. Last week I was accepted to Georgetown's accelerated Nursing BSN program, and today I find out if I get the scholarship I've applied for. With it, G-town is affordable and worth attending; without, hella expensive and I'll probably go elsewhere.

So I'm talking to my dad a few minutes ago and he asks me how my day is going so far and I tell him it is fine, but I'm nervous about this scholarship news (which should arrive in my email inbox any second now) and his response: "Well, you should be."

Thanks, Dad.

* Not really, no.

State of the Blog: Flatlining

2008-09-09T13:30:00.006-05:00

Saturday afternoon I attended a barbeque and had a conversation with two friends, one of whom is currently a blogger, the other a former blogger. Our conversation went something like this:

Ex-blogger: "So, are either of you blogging these days?"

Blogger: "Not so much these days."

Me: "Not really, no."

Ex-blogger: "Yeah, it just got too tedious for me."

Blogger: "Plus, it's cyclical. Right now there's nothing really exciting going on in my life that people would want to read about. Who cares that I went out and had a few drinks last night?"

Me: "Exactly. Plus, who has the energy?? I mean, I could go out on Friday night and try to have some fun, or I could just stay home and eat ranch flavored Wheat Thins with EZ Cheese while watching HGTV and continue to not study."

Ex-blogger: "Exactly."

Blogger: "Totally."

Me: "Fuck yeah."

The above conversation pretty much exemplifies how I feel about blogging these days. It would be one thing if I was too busy (I'm not) or was focusing my energies elsewhere (I'm not. Sorta.), but neither of those things is true. I'm simply just not really into it right now. And it has been that way for many many many many weeks now.

So I'm taking (yet another) little hiatus. A breather. Probably for a month or two until hopefully I re-charge my blogging batteries. Maybe longer, maybe not so long. But I won't be completely gone - I'll just be living vicariously through those on my blogroll.

Ciao for now, bitches. Proper!

PEST FEST [b!]: The Ride Home (Part 2)

2008-08-28T16:49:00.006-05:00

(Ed. Note: Part One is here.)

So I make it out of Wyoming into South Dakota, and it's the middle of the afternoon and it's hot and I've been drinking this 3 liter jug of water just to keep from dying so of course I have to take another leak. Like real bad. Luckily the South Dakota Visitor's Center is just inside the border so I stop and make a dash for the bathroom because I have to go so bad that I'm practically pinching my peen like I'm a 4-year old kid.

I walk in the door and I'm immediately assaulted by the old volunteer couple working the front counter: "Welcome to South Dakota! Where you from? Where you headed to? Do you need a map?" Christ, it's like if these two gam-gams don't find out every little piece of information about me that very instant they're going to die or something. Within about 22 seconds I learn that the old guy used to teach at a prison in Oregon, and the old lady loves steak and is recommending places to eat in Rapid City.

I couldn't get a word in edge wise, and all I want to do is book a leak! It's like these two are so starved for conversation like I'm the first person they've seen in about a decade. Swear to God, if I ever retire and say that I want to volunteer at some visitor's center, just shoot me dead right there.

So after I go to the bathroom I feel like I need to talk to them a little or else they'll commit suicide or something, so I ask the guy to recommend the best way to get to Mt. Rushmore and Crazy Horse. He says that I could continue on 90 and get off at some exit, but that he'd recommend the scenic route, so I oblige.

What a load of horseshit that was. What the old guy failed to mention during his painfully detailed description of Route 385 is that it is some crappy 2-lane highway full of bullshit tourist trap towns and that I'd likely get stuck behind some cement mixing truck (which, no joke, I did) and that what could have been a 40-minute excursion to Mt. Rushmore and Crazy Horse turned into a 2-hour ordeal.

And I'm sure the old coot wanted me to stop in one of these towns for some special "black hills taffy" or some crap like that to support the local businesses because he probably gets some kickback for every sucker like me who stops in. Swear to God, if I ever see that old guy again I'll show him What's.

Fast forward about 90 minutes and I finally make it to the Crazy Horse Memorial. Not to be a dick or anything, but what a load of crap that is. They charge you $10 to get in, and all that does is get you is admittance to the Visitor's Center, which is a full mile away from the face of the mountain and has all the usual tourist bullshit - Native American crafts and photos and a concession stand and stuff. You can look out the big picture window and see the progress of Crazy Horse, but it is pretty much the same view from the highway. If you want to get a closer look of the Monument, you need to take a shuttle bus which is another 4 bucks. Total scam. So I snap a photo or two and get the hell out of there. I mean, how many Dreamcatchers can I guy look at, anyway?

So the moral of this story is if you want to go see Crazy Horse, don't bother paying the 10 bucks and going in. Just pull your car over to the roadside and snap a photo that way. And under no circumstances stop into the South Dakota Visitor's Center because the old guy will just convince you to take the long way where you'll die of boredom.

Tune in next time where I tell you about Mt. Rushmore. Another load of crap, that one is.

PEST FEST [b!]: The Ride Home (Part 1)

2008-08-26T09:16:00.011-05:00

This is what a large part of Montana looks like. Thrilling, isn't it?

Ed. Note: As [Cherry] is still mentally on vacation, he'll be (once again) channeling Holden Caulfield to help write the next few posts. Enjoy.

So for some reason I thought it might be a fun bonding experience for me and Edmund to drive all the way from Portland to Chicago. What a load of crap that was. Swear to God, there are phonies and idiots everywhere in this country, not just in the major metropolitan areas.

Like on my first travel day Edmund and I decide to drive until we get tired. So around 1:30 in the morning I'm driving through some God-awful town in Montana called Rocker (just try to find it on a map) and the only place to stop is a Flying J Truck Stop so I pull into the parking lot in the back where there are a bunch of other cars with people doing the same thing as me. So I pull up next to another car and the guy in the driver's seat is awake and looks at me and asks, "So you're sleeping here too, huh?" What a ridiculous question. What the hell else would I be doing here, you idiot? Swear to God, it was like the guy wanted to cuddle with me he wouldn't shut up and all.

And then the next day I'm stopped at another rest stop (still) in Montana to take a leak and this old guy comes up to me and asks me all about Edmund and gas mileage and blah blah blah. And the whole time he's talking to me he's gnawing away on this apple. Just going to town on this thing. As if he didn't finish eating the goddamn apple that very minute he was going to die of starvation or something. God, I can't stand people like that. You can't put the apple down for a second when you're having a conversation?

And then he asks where I'm heading and I say Chicago and he says to me: "Oh, my wife and I just came from there and we had a miserable experience."

Huh? A miserable experience? I can think of lots of places that are miserable -- Port Arthur, Texas? - Miserable; Zacatecas, Mexico? - also Miserable. But Chicago? Gimme a break, asshole. I mean, why would you tell someone from Chicago that you had a miserable time there? What a douchenugget.

What I wanted to say back to him was, "Yeah, I can relate. I'm having a miserable experience just standing here watching your ass-face power through that apple, you asshole!"

And you can tell the guy was just jonesing for me to ask him exactly why he and his wife had a miserable experience in Chicago but I was having none of it. At this point I wanted to just get the hell out of there and away from all those phonies.

And speaking of miserable experiences, come back later this week to hear about South Dakota and Mt. Rushmore. What a bunch of bullshit that was, I tell you.

PEST FEST [b!]: The New Car

2008-08-08T00:02:00.001-05:00

Cheerio.

I'm Edmund, and I'm [Cherry's] new car. The [Cherry] Ride's new cherry ride, if you will.

He's asked me to guest blog for him because the bloke's too busy to do it himself, apparently. What, with all the running around eating and drinking and socialising. He gets up in the a.m., comes round to pat my bonnet and wish me a Good Morning and then he's off on his bicycle (and what is the point of that, I ask you?) and then I don't see him until the evening -- and even then he's usually right pissed. I see more of his dishy mate Shauna than I do of him, actually. It's bollocks.

He finally got around to picking me up from the dealer this past Friday, after putting a down payment on me over three weeks ago. Thought the pisser had forgotten about me, but then here he was and boom! here I am.

We've had a few good times so far, but not sure this whole thing is going to work out so well. Sure, he treats me right, like a good owner does, but he's a bit of a pansy, methinks, with all this "I love you, Edmund" chatter. Off his trolley, that one is. I mean, shut up already and take me for a drive down the Coast if you truly love me.

He spends more time with the bike than me, and he's purchased some awful skateboard and is trying to get good enough with it to take that around as well. (But considering he can barely stand on it, I think it will be years before he'll be going anywhere. Besides, he was practising the other morning and went arse over elbows on it -- he'll be dead before too long!)

And to be honest his taste in music is shite. Absolute crap. He says it is because the stations in Portland are no good, but I've had to listen to him belt out some God-awful bloody Celine Dion or something (he asked that I not repeat that, actually). He's barmy!

He also goes on and on about his last car, called Simon, and how I have big shoes to fill and blah, blah, blah. Complete rubbish. I am my own car and won't be compared to anyone. Besides, I'm strong(er), fast(er) and quite rakish. Devilishly handsome. And I've got both a sun and a moon roof - I'm quite stylish.

Alrighty then, enough for now. Apparently in two weeks I'll be driving [Cherry] back to Chicago -- you know: stretching my legs, showing him what I'm made of and all that. Which will be just fine, unless his taste in music doesn't improve.

PS - for those of you tossers thinking that Edmund is the name for some fat kid who wears glasses and eats paste, Piss Off! I'm the dogs!

The [C]R Interview: 6 Questions with Classy & Fancy

2008-08-06T12:34:00.007-05:00

Yes, the much-missed 6 Questions Interview is back this week, with Ms. Classy & Fancy boldly stepping up to the plate.

I started reading Classy's blog about two years ago, immediately drawn to her wit and love of pandas, Anderson Cooper and Monchichis. But when she revealed that one of her all-time favorite words is ointment, well, I was hooked.

Since then, we've crossed over to the dark side and become friends in real life, starting the award-winning* Liar's Club (with Niner and Dr. Ken); we've hung out at Lollapalooza and Smith's Night at Danny's, and she's (kinda) witnessed me vomit. We're tight.

Classy is also going to learn me the Little Superstar dance moves, which she once revealed at a St. Patty's Day party and brought the room down.

PS - It is Her Birthday today too!

So let's get to it:

True or False: It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp. False. You’re all good as long as you keep your pimp hand strong, have the right mixture of ladies (maintain an open market) & don't have to compete on Wayne Brady's turf.
Song Played at My Funeral? The song I want played at my funeral is Sandstorm by Darude because it is one of the most ridiculously awful songs I’ve ever heard, but when played will be sure to make people laugh and possibly do some weird club/euro dance moves. Also, I’ve been known to do a wicked impersonation of it accompanied with some stellar club moves circa 1993. I’d like for that to be the parting memory of me.
Name three actors/actresses who will play you in the movie biopic of your life, ala I’m Not There: The Early Years: Ke Huy Quan (of Short Round and Richard “Data” Wang fame) and I would make him say “Indy, Cover Your Heart!” I would also have to give some halfsies/hapas some work: Meg Tilly (don’t get her confused with her high pitched, buxom sister, Jennifer, maybe this movie will be the one to get her out of retirement); Maggie Quigley (she was in Balls of Fury, I think she could use the help).
If you could change one thing about yourself, it would be…? My inability to finish a book in the last two years, I blame HGTV & HDTV.
Fill in the blank: A ________ is not a _________. A refrigerator is not a food closet.
Word Association: Donut? Holes, Shia Labeouf (that’s three, sorry).

* Award for being the most awesome blog ever.

PEST FEST: Randoms

2008-08-01T12:14:00.005-05:00

One week into PF[b!] and things are good.

The rikety old bike that I'm borrowing for my stay is a nasty old bitch of a bitch and I'm not a fan. It is like trying to pedal a lawnmower. I'm on the handlebars even when I'm going downhill. And every evening I have a big hill to climb. It is Total Bullshit, but since I'm sauced most evenings for the ride home, I am surviving.

I purchased a skateboard yesterday. Hilarity will ensue, and stories will be posted shortly.

I am potentially merely a few short hours from being an uncle.

People are really starting to buy the Olympic Fencing Team line. So much so that I'm thinking of taking it up. Or at least reading up on it so that I know what the hell I'm talking about.

Somebody handed me a mango fruit popsicle yesterday afternoon while I was walking down the street. I love this town. (It was wrapped.)

No "Fuck Off Friday" today, but for all of you haters out there, "6 Questions" will be back in all its glory next week.

Gotta go. July is over and I am ready to Rip August a New Asshole.*

* and you can interpret that any way you want.

PEST FEST Day 5: The Hilarious Sitcom

2008-07-30T15:09:00.006-05:00

Shauna is ready to pop. She’s due on Monday, but I’m betting that baby is coming Friday. She’s been taking it all in stride, actually, but I think I am starting to freak out a little. We spend a lot of the day apart (her doing her thing, me doing mine) and every time the phone rings I immediately think it is her, telling me to get my ass home to driver her to the hospital because the kid’s head is poking out from between her vag.

Her husband Richard, who has been on an important biz trip in SE Asia, arrives tomorrow (thank God), but I feel like if called upon I am ready to help out. I've got her list of important numbers in my phone, know the quickest route to the hospital, know which questions to ask, read that section of What To Expect When You're Expecting geared towards the husband/partner/gay friend next-on-the-list-in-case-nobody-else-is-around.

Shauna and I have been really close friends for 12 years. She’s really like a sister I never had. There isn’t a whole lot of taboo subjects between us – we’ve seen each other naked (there has been some streaking and skinny dipping in our past); went with each other to get tattoos (ed. note: writing that sounds very strange); have discussed every possible subject with each other; performed any number of super classy body tricks/functions in each other’s presence (this may be more me than her, actually).

Anyway, as close as we’ve been we’ve never lived under the same roof, let alone when she’s been pregnant. Earlier I said that our temporary living arrangement would make a good Bravo reality show, but now I’m thinking it is better served as a quirky comedy on Fox. The part of Shauna would be played by someone like Kate Winslet (Shauna's a proper British gal from the Lake District, after all).

I’d be played by Paul Rudd or Bradley Cooper, both of whom resemble me (OK, perhaps not even remotely close but shut up and just give me this one, alright?) and could accurately portray the unusual, slightly troubled yet funny and sexy nuances of my winning personality (again, just shut up already).

Imagine Kate delivering these lines (actually said to me by Shauna over the last 5 days):

“Are you actually eating a spoonful of peanut butter?? Right from the jar?”
“You look different in this photo… quite handsome, actually.”
“I noticed that you ate that entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s last night.”
“Is that smell coming from your feet??”
“You are a negative influence on me. I’m telling everyone that Burgerville was your idea.”

And then there’d be Paul or Bradley, responding to Kate with just a shrug of the shoulders and a look of helplessness towards the camera, and then the audience would burst into laughter and applause. It will be awesome 5000. *

I can only imagine how much better the conversations are going to get once the baby arrives. Stay tuned.

* The show would probably go off the air after 3 episodes and be re-tooled with a talking dog, RuPaul as the neighbor, and me totally out of the picture. But anyway.

PEST FEST [bitches!] Day Three: Olympic Dreams Come True (Sort Of)

2008-07-28T15:14:00.007-05:00

60 hours into PEST FEST [b!], and things are rolling. The house Shuana and I are renting is decent, with a deck out back for barbecuing (read: drinking) and nice neighbors. We’re two blocks from Columbia Park and the swimming pool, so there are vague plans for exercising.

At the very least, I’ll be taking Shauna’s dog Jake for walks there (read: I’ll be standing around chucking a tennis ball while Jake fetches it), since we’ve already become BFFs (he constantly follows me around the house and pretty much ignores Shauna now - eat it, Shauna!). Apparently we’re also close to Portland International Raceway, as evidenced by the roar of drag racing car engines (or open-wheeled race car engines, or whatever it is they do over there) on weekend afternoons, which is a good thing because it keeps me close to my whitetrash roots.

I’m mobile now, too, having borrowed a friend’s rickety old bicycle to get around town for the next few weeks. After I post this, I am ditching work for the day (things are slow) and heading into Old Town to buy a skateboard. Unless I wimp out and decide not to get one for awhile, which may happen too.

As the house is only semi-furnished, I’m sleeping on an air mattress (pregnant woman gets the only real bed in the house, whatever). Jury is still out on this one – one the one hand, it makes for a very portable, almost zen-like existence and I can pretty much sleep standing up (last night was my first night on it and I slept like a log; but that might have more to do with the fact that on Friday and Saturday nights I’ve slept a total of 6 hours). On the other hand, it is, well an air mattress.

Side note: about a month ago I got a new debit card from Bank of America, in which some of my purchases go towards financially supporting the US Olympic Team. The debit card has my photo on it and immediately next to it reads “US Olympic Team”, almost as though it is a special debit card for US Olympic athletes, and almost as though I might be one of them. When I’ve used it in Chicago nobody gave a shit, but for whatever reason here in Portland every time I use it I get asked “Are you really on the Olympic Team?” I’ve started answering, “Yes.” You know, just to keep things interesting.

So, if anyone asks, I am totally first alternate on the Olympic Fencing Team. Everyone seems to be buying it, so don’t blow my cover mmmkay?

Now Summer Really Begins: Portland Day Zero

2008-07-25T12:26:00.006-05:00

So I’ve been a bit busy these last two weeks and not been lurking on either mine or yourz blogz. And there’s a lot I’ve missed, I gather. My Google Reader is somewhere near 400; Jules is texting my asking if I’m alive; Shain is sending me harassing e-mails (although actually that’s nothing new); Blythe is leaving concerned comments (that’s a lie, actually; Blythe gave up on me long ago); my Technorati authority number is rapidly slipping to 30 (it used to be almost have that); and perhaps the biggest news of all is that Niner thinks he’s quitting Liar’s Club (what he doesn’t understand is the Liar’s Club is like Hotel California, but that’s another matter for another time).

The last two weeks have been really busy with work and school. I won’t bore you with details but yesterday was my Chem final and the culmination of a huge work event, both of which have kept me not sleeping, not eating and generally not in a good mood. I didn’t even really enjoy Pitchfork this year (I think Niner's recap pretty much echoes my sentiments).

Sadcakes all around.

Anyway, that’s about to change. I declare that today my summer truly begins, as in a few hours I’m boarding a plane for a 25-day trip to Portland. I’m calling it “Portland Extreme Summer Trip Festival [bitches!]” (or “PEST FEST [bitches!]” for short).

What will I be doing in Portland for 25 days, you ask? The real question: What will I NOT be doing in Portland -- a little work, a lot of play, some drinking beers in the midday sun, some skateboarding, and lots of catching up with friends (maybe a repeat of this evening, right Recken and Kate??), perhaps a beer with the famous M5K, maybe some kayaking.

My friend Shauna and I have rented a house for the month, and she’s about to give birth to her baby. So it will be a single gay man, a new mother and her newborn baby, and a dog all under one roof for a month. All kinds of craziness may happen (it’ll be just like a really bad reality tv show on Bravo!)

As Kathleen would say it's CHANG TIME. It is definitely Chang Time.

Helen Mirren's Boobs

2008-07-17T10:30:00.001-05:00

In keeping with my Helen Mirren's Boobs track record, I present you with, well...

HELEN MIRREN'S BOOBS:

Beat that, KAZ!

(And many thanks to Girl Friday for keeping me abreast of this development.) AND JULIE GONG TOO! (Sorry, sweets!)

PopeYes - HeckNo

2008-07-16T07:49:00.012-05:00

Popeyes Chicken is a guilty pleasure of mine.

Surprising, I know.

Usually after a night of drinking at Danny's. Or sometimes for no good reason at all, like maybe I happened to be passing by it and didn't feel like making dinner (as was the case yesterday).

Those spicy chicken strips. Those biscuits! I mean, Daay-am.

Let's just say that as of 6 a.m. this morning, Popeyes will no longer be a guilty pleasure of mine.

Never again, Popeyes. Never. Again.

PS - thanks to Niner, Popeyes will now always be known as "Pope Yes." I mean: look carefully at the sign: Pope Yes not Popeyes.

F*ck Off Fridays: Jort Enthusiasts

2008-07-11T00:01:00.001-05:00

Did I miss the fucking memo?

Why the fuck are these in style?

Extra fuck off points for pleats. And acid wash.

2008-07-10T17:01:00.001-05:00

Is It Wrong...

2008-07-04T13:31:00.003-05:00

... that when I read that Jesse Helms had died this morning, the first thought that popped into my head was:

"God Bless America"?

2008: Half Empty or Just Half Full of Shit?

2008-07-01T17:15:00.011-05:00

Happy July 1, everyone!

Sure, it is Canada Day or something like that,but who cares (Airam)? There are more important things to celebrate - like the year being half over.

If the [Cherry] Clan was back in the Old Country, we'd be celebrating these last 162 Earth rotations of 2008 with a traditional feast of game hen, ginger beer and pole dancing. But we are a long way from the Old Country, I suppose, so instead I'll celebrate the completion of 1H08 by eating Hostess products* and reminding everyone that the days are just getting shorter from here on out (and have been for almost two weeks), so put that in yer pipe and smoke it.

Hard to believe that 6 months ago at this time I was in London drinking heavily, wearing a tiara, and making an ass of myself by shouting at strangers on double decker buses. (Wish I could say that so much has changed since then, but -- considering that just this past Saturday I was drinking heavily, wearing clown accessories and still making an ass of myself -- I guess things are pretty much the same.) Just look at how far I've come in these last 6 months!

Speaking of, guess this is a good time to check in on how I'm progressing on my New Year's Resolutions, to see if I need to make some adjustments for the second half of the year.

2008 Resolutions:

Ace All My Classes. That's about to fall through the floor, thanks to this summer's Chemistry class. I'm adjusting it to be instead: Ace All of My Classes Not Taken During the Summer.
Contribute in a Meaningful Way to the Betterment of Society. Definitely on track for this one. I voted in the Illinois primary; I also gave a woman directions to the Red Line that one night. These definitely count. Kinda.
Eat More Vegetables. Making strides in this area as well. There was a salad in April. And guacamole. Lots of guac (that's like 50% vegetable or something).
Buy a New Bike. Check.
Be A Man About Town, Singing All the Lonely Dirges of My Youth. WTF? I don't even know what this means? I must have been drunk when I wrote that one down. But what the hell, I think I'm actually doing well with this one. Except for the singing part. And the being a man about town part too. Moving on...
Finally Get a Handle on Those Communicable Diseases. Damn, not so much. Maybe I'll just put this one on the shelf for 2009.

I think I had more, but I'm pretty sure I've misplaced** the list.

Here's to a PROPER 2H08!!

* This is really no different than any other day.
** And by "misplaced" I mean "threw that bitch into the trash."

Question of the Weekend

2008-06-29T22:10:00.005-05:00

[Cherry] at 1:30 on Saturday afternoon:

"4 Advil, 3 shots, 2 beers. What could possibly go wrong?"

[Cherry] at 8:30 on Saturday evening: Enough said.

PS - So difficult to decide the best thing about this photo: The clown nose. The unfocused eyes. The look on that other guy's face.

F*ck Off Fridays: Summer School Chemistry Cast of Characters

2008-06-26T23:35:00.009-05:00

Remember that movie Summer School with Kirstie Alley and Mark Harmon and the extremely underrated Kelly Jo Minter (the working man’s Rae Dawn Chong?)? If you need a refresher, check out a little snippet here. That movie was awesome for several reasons, one of which was that the material (summer school) is rife with possibilities. Summer school is for losers, isn’t it?

Seriously: growing up, the only people who went to summer school were the idiots who couldn’t get their shit together during the first 9 months of the school year and had to re-take courses. Or the total geeks who took advanced physics or robotics in summer school in order to score better on their SATs and get into MIT.

Either way, it was for losers.

College Summer School – or, to be more specific: Chicago City College Summer School – is no different. If you’ve read this blog over the last year, you’ve witnessed me complain about the people in my Biology course, and this time around my Chemistry class is no different. There are some real winners here (Ed. note: I include myself in this, btw.); about 15 of us suffering through this miserable class.

Yesterday morning, right before we took (yet another) a quiz, three people in my class started a shouting at each other like they were getting ready to Throw Down. WTF, people. Seriously, I thought for a moment I was in the movie Dangerous Minds of something. I'm thinking of bringing popcorn to class starting next week.

I know the names of about four classmates, and the others I don’t really care enough to learn. Instead these others have nicknames, which they've fucking earned. These people include:

Fat Tub of Shit Who Makes Snorting Noises When He Breathes guy
Shut-The-Fuck-Up-With-Your-Stupid-Questions girl, aka Read the Fucking Book Already girl
Pseudo Goth boy (who sits behind Fat Tub of Shit in order to sleep during the second half of class)
If-You-Ask-One-More-Time “Is This Going To Be On The Exam?” I-Will-Kick-Your-Ass guy
Always-In-The-Corner-In-Fetal-Position-Sucking-His-Thumb-Crying guy *
Asian-Who-I-Don’t-Think-Speaks-English-Yet-Still-Gets-an-A-On-Every-Fucking Quiz boy **
How Hard Is It to Show Up On Time girl (seriously, she strolls in with her Dunkin Donuts coffee and donut every class period 25 minutes late)
How Hard is It to Remember to Turn Off Your Fucking Cell Phone guy (seriously, every class he cell phone goes off and it takes him about 30 seconds to find the phone in his book bag to shut it off)
I’ve-Broken-a-Glass-Test-Tube-In-Every-Lab girl
Guy Who Hasn't Yet Bought the Book But Really Needs to Because You're a Fucking Moron With All Your Questions

Thanks to all of you, who each in your own special way has made my Summer School experience all the more soul-crushing. Happy Fuck Off Friday to you!

* I-T-C-I-F-P-S-H-T guy may or may not be me

** Yeah, this one is a little racist perhaps. Sue me.

So Long, Simon

2008-06-24T22:54:00.009-05:00

[Me and Simon, the day I got him.]

This past weekend I said goodbye to a true friend and trusty companion of mine, my car Simon.

I got Simon on July 7, 2002. He was special - a limited Canadian Launch Edition Mini Cooper (number 452 of 500 made) that was one of several purchased in Vancouver, BC and driven down to Oregon by the Portland Lexus dealer. At that time, it was impossible to get a Mini any other way, because the only Mini dealer in the state had not yet received their shipment because of several production delays (those "lucky" enough to get on the one-year list to buy one were originally supposed to get delivery in June but had to wait until late August - suckers!). Because of this, Simon was one of the only Minis in Portland for the whole summer and he turned heads everywhere we went. It was awesome.

Simon was a good friend and we had some good times together. I know it is silly to humanize a heap of glass, plastic and metal parts; to assign it characteristics and personality (to me, Simon had an easy, friendly and yet refined manner), but in the end it doesn't matter - I miss him like he was a real friend.

After all, my car has been through a lot with me; he's seen me at my best and worst -- I've laughed with friends and family in that car; I've cried alone in that car; I've yelled and started arguments; belted out bad 80's songs from the top of my lungs; danced to bad 90s songs in him; made important decisions; experienced both fear and wonder with him; shared secrets and flipped people the "V" in that car. I was driving Simon when my brother called to tell me that our dad had a heart attack and I needed to fly home right away, and when my friend Shauna called to say she was pregnant. Simon has driven me to weddings and funerals, to engagement parties, birthday bashes and memorial services. I've had wildly inappropriate groping and make-out sessions in him. Speeding tickets and near-miss accidents. I was in Simon at the very moment I decided that if I had some balls I would leave my career to become a nurse instead.

I've driven him to and from San Francisco and Seattle and Vancouver and Philadelphia and NYC. He's driven me clear across the country from Portland to DC, and then again a year later from DC to Chicago. I once left Portland at 2 pm on a Friday afternoon and arrived in Chicago by 8am that Sunday morning (that's gotta be some kind of record), stopping only for food and a 2-hour nap in Iowa.

Simon was a good car to me and never let me down. He was broken into twice - once for my cell phone on Christmas Eve, the other for a few lousy CDs. He's had some scrapes and flats, but always ran like a champ until just a few weeks ago. He blew a rod and developed engine troubles, and it would cost me more than $6K to get him fixed - which I was willing to do - but a mechanic at the shop offered me a really great deal, so I decided it was time for Simon to start a second life with some new people that I know will take good care of him and undoubtedly give them some good times too.

So goodbye, Simon. You'll be missed little buddy.

The [C]R Interview: 6 Questions with 5 of 9er

2008-06-24T13:03:00.012-05:00

Kicking off the first in my loooooooong, fascinating, and soon-to-be award winning [Cherry] Ride Interview series is the 5 of 9er.

Niner and I met about 7 years ago, back when we were both living in Portland and his soon-to-be wife LP and I worked together, bonding over our mutual hatred for our jobs and certain co-workers.

A friendship with Niner soon blossomed, one where I have photos of him from my Rock n' Roll-themed Halloween party dressed as a Pussycat from Josie and the Pussycats (or were you Josie? I can't remember) and he has a photo of me from their wedding standing in front of the buffet table shoveling food into my gullet.

Now we all live in Chicago, where he makes fun of my general lameness and I nag him to teach me to skateboard before he and LP become parents, effectively ending any free time he will ever have again.

So without further ado:

An unexpected benefit of blogging is..? Friends. Really. I've met some really good people from writing the 5 of 9er. Good people I am glad are part of my life. I've always thought "cyber-friends" were only for dorks, but that is not true. Wait, does this mean I'm a dork?
True or False: Only Love Can Break Your Heart. False. A diet high in saturated fat can with no exercise break it too!
The best quality you don’t possess is…? The ability to make a good first impression when in a social setting... not a business setting. When I don't have to meet people and be charming I'm often stand-off-ish. Or the ability to have some laugh out loud answers on this survey so all of Cherry's readers don't think I'm a boring chode.
Greatest fear? Not being able to find a job... going broke... having to ask my parents if we can move home with them... the seeing if they'll be able to pay for the move... and being completely depressed... and feel like an absolute worthless failure.
Fill in the blank: A ____ is not a _____. A "Queef" is not a "Fart".
You’re going on a roadtrip. Who are your three other car companions (living or dead; real or fictional), and where are you going? Burt Reynolds, Sally Field, and, Jerry Reed (aka The Bandit, Frog, and Snowman).We'd be driving to the "Southern Classic" stock car race in Georgia from Texarkana, TX with our load of Coors so we can get paid by Big Enos and Little Eno Burdette! [If you're lost... watch Smokey & the Bandit.]

F*ck Off Fridays

2008-06-20T00:10:00.003-05:00

Special Fuck You shout-out goes to my Chemistry professor thanks to four activities over the last two weeks:

I accidentally spilled a little water on my lab report during lab on Tuesday. Because of this, she actually yelled at me for not being more careful. Seriously. Everyone stopped to look. In all my years of college (yeah, there's been a few), I've never been yelled at by a professor. Like I fucking meant to spill water on it. Like I was a fucking 7-year old child.
We had a quiz yesterday, part of which involved identifying the atomic number of a list of elements. One of the elements she gave us - Polonium - was not on the study guide she provided. When the class pointed out to her that it was not on the list and therefore not an element she had asked us to to study, she replied with: "Well, Polonium is an important element and you should know it anyway." You know what else I should know, professor? That I am going to KICK. YOUR. UNORGANIZED. ASS.
Last week I had to leave class 30 minutes early for a work meeting. I didn't tell her I was leaving, I just left. I missed the last 30 minutes of a 3.5 hour class (3.5 hours, people!). Because of this, she marked me absent for the entire class period (and we are graded on attendance)! Fuck you, devil woman.
We had a quiz on Monday. We had a quiz yesterday. We have another quiz on Monday. That's three quizzes over the span of 5 classes. I know this is summer school and therefore by definition it sucks my ass, but it is clear she fully has no intention of any of us having even just a little bit of fun this summer.

Because of these reasons listed above and others, she leaves me no choice but to show up to class one day completely drunk and belligerent. I don't care that it is a morning class.

Enjoy your Fuck Off Friday, Prof!

6 Questions: The [Cherry] Ride Interviews

2008-06-18T16:43:00.009-05:00

I'm starting another regular feature on this blog (since Fuck Off Fridays is going so very well) in which I will ask 6 questions to a different blogger every week. That means if your blog appears on the left, you will be required to participate. It is small price to pay for knowing me (in the blog sense), don't ya think? Yes? Good. Let's move on.

Consider it my version of the Proust Questionnaire that appears in Vanity Fair. I've come up with a list of 21 possible questions, and each week I will select a blogger, e-mail a small subset of these questions for that blogger to ponder and answer, then feature their answers here. My goal is to feature a different blogger every week for a year, since I've got close to that many on my blogroll as of now.

Then, similar to my idea for "100 Drunk Portraits", I am going to compile all the interviews and sell them to Chronicle Books and make a fortune. Or not.

Plus, less blogging I have to do.

First on the chopping block - er, spotlight - is Niner (and not because he is first on the blogroll - it will be a random choosing each week).

The 6 questions will be pulled from this list of 20:

Why did you start your blog?
True or False: It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp
An unexpected benefit of blogging is..?
If you could live anywhere, it would be…?
You rob a bank and need to hotwire a car. Your choices are a Ford Taurus or PT Cruiser. Which do you choose and why?
Your idea of hell is…?
Applying both geosocial and aesthetic values, please look at this city subway map (which will be provided) and pick the stop you identify with most and why?
True or False: Only Love Can Break Your Heart
You are happiest when…?
The best quality you don’t possess is…?
Biggest indulgence…?
Have you ever been close to death?
The song I want played at my funeral is _________ because...?
Name three actors/actresses who will play you in the movie biopic of your life, ala I’m Not There
Greatest fear?
If you could change one thing about yourself, it would be…?
Fill in the blank: A _________ is not a ______________.
Word Association: Donut
One talent I wish I had is…?
Your place is burning to the ground. What’s the one possession (note: this is a thing, not a person; assume all people and pets living with you are safe) you bring with you?
You’re going on a roadtrip. Who are your three other car companions (living or dead; real or fictional), and where are you going?

... And, I'm Back

2008-06-16T21:20:00.004-05:00

As you are all tired of seeing the same "It's My Birfday" post for the last week, I've been trying hard to come up with something new and exciting to replace it but frankly I've been coming up a little short.

I thought about writing about how I went to a birthday party Friday night (not my own) and gave a virtually-complete stranger my brand new $250 watch (which was, ironically enough, a birthday present to myself) with no real plan on how to get it back; or how a friend confided to me that I'm his "Number Two Gay" (I thought I was his Number One); or how my new favorite pants may or may not possibly give me the ole moose knuckle; or how awesome it is to try to stand on your bicycle seat while riding through the streets of Roscoe Village at 2:30 am on a Saturday morning; or how Katherine Heigl confirmed today what I've been saying for months now, which is that she is indeed bat-shit crazy; or how I had to explain to my father on Father's Day that when he's feeling thirsty he should try drinking a glass of water instead of a can of Diet Coke because it might be healthier for him and better for his diabetes (he took the news as if it was some newly discovered medical breakthrough that he'd never heard before) or how people need to lay off my Celine Dion incident/confession.

But those are all pretty much self-explanatory.

So I got nothin.

Yo Shawtie, Its My Birfday

2008-06-11T00:10:00.001-05:00

It's true. One year closer to Death. Yay for me.

If you really care, you'll send me a some e-card *

Or, buy me this. "Really, [Cherry]?" you're saying to yourself, "I didn't know you were a DJ!" I'm not, but I think I would be good at it and it would look good in my bedroom - you know, that mystical place where I make the magic happen.**

In honour*** of me getting older, here's a list of things I've noticed about me that I am old-ish. Warning: I know most of you think I shit rainbows and butterflies (and you'd be right), but the following list ain't pretty. But really, it shows how much I love you that I can share so much about me, right?

There was a time when I didn't understand half of what the hell was happening on MTV. Now, I don't get half the shit that happens on VH-1.
I no longer remember anything that happened in high school.**** Granted, this is likely due to the systematic voluntary willingness to forget it, but still...
I haven't figured out how to use my hair trimmer to get at the hair that is now growing out of my ears.
True story: I was driving from Seattle to Portland a few weeks ago and heard a lovely song on the radio and thought "Hmm, I kinda like this and the voice sounds familiar but I can't place it." It turned out to be CELINE DION, people. Celine fucking Dion!!!!
A hangover, when I get them, now last about a month. I'm still recovering from shit I did in April.
On those rare days where I don't shower, I develop some pretty funky smells. This is a new thing for me, because up until about a month ago I was one of those "non-sweaty, non-smelly" people.
And can someone please once and for all tell me what the hell a Hollaback Girl is? Is it a good thing or a bad thing? If I was young, I would know such things.
I'm contemplating not dressing up for Halloween this year.

* That e-mail address, in case you've forgotten, is: cherry_ride@hotmail.com

** And by "magic" I of course mean eating Double Big Macs on my bed while watching HGTV and Bravo on Friday & Saturday nights, talking to my Aquaman doll, and crying myself to sleep. But only sometimes.
*** It's my birthday and if I want to pretend I am a subject of the Queen, I will.

**** Aside from the occassional flashback of beratement and belittlement from teachers and classmates, of course.

Top 5 Things I Say I'll Be Doing This Summer (Compared to What I Will Actually Do Instead):

2008-06-09T16:19:00.005-05:00

I'm channelling McSweeney's today to bring you my list of the Top 5 Things I Say I Will Do This Summer.

Immediately following that is the list of What I Will Actually Be Doing Instead.

What I Say I’ll De Doing:

Riding my bike everywhere, especially along the Lake.
Buckling down and studying every night for Chemistry.
Going to Lollapalooza.
Learning to skateboard.
Drinking heavily.

What I’ll Really Be Doing Instead:

Taking the Blue Line. Or, deciding that I don’t have the energy and staying home instead.
Getting up early and skipping the gym so that I can study Chemistry since I didn’t bother studying the night before. Or, maybe just not studying at all and sleeping in another hour.
Not going to Lollapalooza. (I mean really -- how many times can you see Death Cab on a hot, steamy crowded afternoon in August??)
Buying a skateboard and clearing out room in my closet to store it until I finally decide in two years time to donate it since I never used it.
Drinking heavily.

F*ck Off Fridays

2008-06-06T07:59:00.008-05:00

So many bloggers seem to have themed days of the week - Julie Gong has her award-winning "Just Nonsense" Fridays; Bee-Spot has her sometimes-impressive "Zach Harrison Memorial Music Mondays"; Fitness Nerd is bringing back his "Tuesday Music Club"; Catherinette has her always-delightful "Just the Tip Tuesdays"; House of Jules has her "Putting the Hump in Humpday" feature, and of course M5K has several theme days throughout the week.

I want a piece of this action (dammit!) so I'm starting* Fuck Off Fridays. Today's FOF is dedicated to asshole recreational athletes, specifically two breeds:

Recumbent Bicycle Riders - these people are assholes, aren't they? Nothing screams "Look at me, I crave attention!" more than these fuckers. What, a normal bike isn't good enough for you? Case in point: just look at this guy in the photo - total douchenugget. You know he also goes around bringing wine from his own cellar to restaraunts, beats his dog and eats only macrobiotic food.

Joggers Who Run Down Michigan Ave. - you can substitute Michigan Ave for any major touristy street in your city (Oxford, Broadway, Pike, Market, Rodeo, Newbury, etc.). These people are also assholes in need of attention. Bonus douchebag points if they're guys running with their shirts off. Newsflash moron: there's a running path along the lake about three blocks down that you should check out that isn't filled with people shopping. Another newsflash: nobody gives a shit or is impressed that you're out running in downtown Chicago. Next time I'm heading to the Apple Store or Water Tower Place and see you in my way I am totally tripping you, or throwing my big-ass tin of Garrett's Popcorn in your face.

Honorable mention goes to the slow-ass dipshit who swims in the fast lane, ruining my workout once again. Yeah, I'm talking to you, fucker.

* And by "starting" I off course mean I will likely do this once and never speak of it again.

Summer: Started, Is Starting, Will Start

2008-06-04T19:17:00.009-05:00

Summer Started...

... five weeks ago, the night I took my first sip of that "fresca" drink from the Alibi Room and a Pimm's Cup from The White Horse in Seattle with ReckenRoll and Kate...
... four weeks ago, while "attempting" the Helicopter on the dancefloor at Erin & Ryan's wedding reception...
... three weeks ago, while enjoying a late-night g&t with friends outside the Aalto Lounge on Belmont in Portland, marvelling at the cobalt night sky past midnight...
... two weeks ago, when I decided Niner will teach me to skateboard...

Summer Is Starting...

... today, when I walked into my Summer Session chemistry class and let out a groan...
... today, when I decided that despite this, I am going to have a good summer...

Summer Will Start...

... soon, when I figure out what my summer drink will be...
... this week, when I figure out what my Summer Jam will be (and I'm open for suggestions)...
... someday, when the Liar's Club sets a date for our Blegger...

When did summer start for you?

Adventures of the Boy Genius (Pt. IV)

2008-06-03T12:43:00.006-05:00

Last week while registering for Summer Term, I discovered that I ended up with an "A" in last semester's Anatomy & Physiology course. This was a pleasant surprise since I thought I'd be getting a B, based on my performance on the Final. And then there was this and other things like not studying for quizzes and other stuff. (Btw, this discovery has nothing to do with my post from Friday, which is something else entirely.)

I was reminded through various fliers posted around the hallways and offices that Summer Term "begins the week of June 2" and I could go on here about how soul crushing 4 hours of Chemistry 4 days a week for the next 8 weeks is and how it is going to totally suck any fun I was planning on having this summer, but that will be material for future, hopefully hilarious posts.

Anyway, back to my story. I woke early on Monday armed with a new confidence (thanks to the A in A&P), ready to tackle the summer semester head-on. I rode my bike to school, tracing the quickest and safest path (I'm going to a different City College this summer, not my regular one. But don't worry, I'm still getting the best possible education offered by the award-winning City Colleges of Chicago!!), then even had time to buy a new nifty yellow notebook and some pens. I confidently walked into school, mentally prepared for even the toughest chemistry conundrums.

After a few minutes of noticing that the building seemed rather empty of students, even for summer, I discovered that I was in fact two days early for the first day of class -- I'd shown up on Monday for a class that didn't start until Wednesday.

Fucking hell. I think I might be one of those people who is "book" smart instead of "regular" smart. Or maybe I'm just not smart at all.

BREAKING NEWS: Congratulations to the Niner and LP who found out today they're having a Hot Dog and not a Bun. This is awesome news. Except I had predicted a Bun, so my baby guessing percentage continues to run at about 0%.

I'll Drink to That

2008-05-30T14:05:00.009-05:00

There are a lot of times when I don't know what the hell I'm doing. (Shocking, I know.)

I certainly make more than my share of mistakes and fucked-up lots of things over the last few years.

But every once in a great while the old [C]R gets something right. Today is one of those days.

There's no need to go into details, really. And I could have just kept these thoughts to myself I guess. But the next time I pull some shit I guess I'd like to be able to look at this entry and remember that occassionally I can do something good.

I deserve a drink today. Hell, we all do!!

Have a great weekend everyone.

PROPER!

Show of Hands

2008-05-28T13:11:00.001-05:00

Who else:

Thinks the new Hulk movie is going to be a big green turd?
Is already tired of the new Death Cab album?
Thinks this is perhaps the greatest culinary invention ever, and also thinks it would make an outstanding gift for the [C]R's upcoming birthday?
Is annoyed that Monocle magazine has mentioned the 2016 Olympic bid competition twice in as many months without mentioning Chicago as a top contender?
Doesn't know what the hell Monocle magazine is?
Will be drinking Summer Shandy all season long?
Thinks Smith's Night at Danny's could use some improvement, despite the antics of the Private Dancer (it's OK, this is more of an inside joke).

Top 10 Things I'm Doing Tonight Instead of Working on a Major Project Due Tomorrow

2008-05-26T23:06:00.003-05:00

Updating Facebook.
Harassing people on Facebook.
Harassing people via text message.
Harassing people via phone.
Updating my Flickr!
Eating peanut butter straight from the jar.
Vacuuming.
Sending an e-mail to Amazon's customer care center to inquire why the book I ordered in February has still not been sent to me.
Rationalizing how important the above things are vs. not working.
Creating lame lists to post on [C]R.

That Just 'Taint Right

2008-05-23T00:01:00.000-05:00

I'd like to share a story that may or may not be true with y'all. The reason it may or may not be true is because, well, if it were true it would mean that someone may or may not have broken a federal law, which could put someone in a position to be prosecuted by the TSA or the FBI or NSA or some government agency (and those people mean bidnatch, if you know what I mean) if any of them happened to be reading someone's blog.

As you know, somone had a long business trip to Seattle recently. Besides business, that person was able to get in some time for fun also, and therefore needed to pack smartly to accommodate a mix of work clothes, workout clothes, fun clothes and wedding clothes. Also, two laptop computers and other electronics blah, blah, blah. This mixture resulted in a suitcase that weighed 55 pounds, which is 5 pounds past most airline's weight requirements.

On the way out to Seattle, United was kind enough to look past the extra 5 pounds without charging someone $50 (seriously, are you kidding?). On the way back, that person was not so lucky with US Air. So right there at the airport as that person is checking their bag, someone needed to make some quick decisions about what to take out of the suitcase and put instead into their carry-on bag.

... Interlude: While in Portland for the weekend someone picked up a large bottle of Aveda Hydrating Skin Lotion in the 16.9 ounce glass bottle (see photo above). 25 years of competitive swimming and chlorine has destroyed someone's skin and that person pretty much has to put lotion on any time skin touches water. And these days someone don't mess around - the Aveda stuff is really awesome and worth every penny of the $70 price tag. Plus, this is Portland and there's no sales tax so this stuff is a bargain compared to how much it would cost back home in Chicago...

OK, back to the story: So someone is at the airport in line and needs to take some things out of the suitcase because someone sure-as-shit does not want to pay $50 just to get stuff home. One of the things that someone may or may not have decided to put into the carry-on bag is the 16.9 oz. glass bottle of lotion (which, btw, weighs about 5 pounds).

Fast forward 15 minutes, after hitting the bookstore and bathroom someone is about to head through the TSA security line, and suddenly realizes that there may or may not be a huge glass bottle in the carry-on bag, which will totally not make it past security.

Fuck.

This shit is expensive and brand new and who would feel like throwing it into the trash only to buy a new bottle in Chicago (read: 10% sales tax)? Answer: Nobody would, right?

At this point someone may or may not have three choices:

Go back to check-in counter and try to check it back into the checked bag (which is likely on its way to the plane), and pay the extra $50 bucks or try to get out 5 pounds of clothes (which wouldn't fit into the carry-on anyway). Uhhh, that would be a big No.
Go through security and sweet talk the TSA worker into letting someone bring the bottle through. Have any of you ever heard a story where a TSA worker actually listened to reason? Uhhh, that would be a big No also.
Head into the bathroom and stick that big, cold, heavy and expensive bitch of a glass bottle down your pants, snuggling it oh-so-not comfortably in what is known in medical circles as the Taint Region (or TR for short).

Someone may or may not have gone with Choice #3.

Someone may or may not have walked through security with a noticeable limp and uncomfortable gait thanks to the forces at play in the TR, and someone may or may not have made it through security without incident. In case I did not mention it, that big, heavy and expensive bitch of a glass bottle may or may not have been really, really cold to the touch, especially in the TR.

If this story is indeed true, that person is not proud of what happened. That person is normally a law-abiding citizen. Nor would someone advocate trying something this stupid with a federal agency. But today someone may or may not have a big bottle of wonderful Aveda Hydrating Lotion waiting in the bathroom to soothe their dry skin.

People May Not Care That You're Away...

2008-05-21T11:54:00.000-05:00

You know when you haven't blogged in a long time and there's just too much to catch up on so why even bother? Yeah, that's kinda what I'm going through at the moment. Something like 16 of the last 25 days have been spent in the Pac Northwest, the place I used to call home that I love and miss very much. I am very reluctant to leave. The trip was a lot of work, and a lot of fun; the best of times, the toughest of times; some laughter (drunk), some tears (drunk, not drunk, hungry). Better than Cats and all that shit.

I'm on the plane heading back to Chicago, and I'm exhausted. During the week I was up late and up early for work stuff; on the weekends I was out late catching up with friends. Instead of boring you all with the play-by-plays (wedding receptions, speeding tickets, celebrity sightings, jogging while intoxicated, you know - the usuals) I'm instead reviewing some of the memorable words said in my presence or texted to me over the course of my trip.

Share them with you? OK, but only because you've insisted. Note: some of the names of the guilty have been redacted to save embarassment.

"Like the Doobie Brothers, I'm Taking It To The Streets" (MK, referring to his weekend)
"I'm also giving you a ticket for aggressive driving" (Washington State Trooper, who gave me a ticket for going 80 in a 60 somewhere outside of Olympia)
"I AM Julie Andrews!" (Kate at the Alibi Room)
"That's the problem with christian rock -- you think you're listening to Goo Goo Dolls or Sarah McLachlan and then suddenly it's too late" (PG, referring to the horrible radio options on the drive from Seattle to Portland)
"It's a Boston Thing -- you wouldn't understand" (said by me and Kate to Recken at the Alibi Room)
"I met a homeless guy with no thumbs the other night" (texted to me out of nowhere by GFC)
"[C]R will have a boyfriend before you do" (Dave to Recken, when discussing possible wedding dates)
"I should have at least removed my SPANX" (SS, referring to some other stuff we don't really need to get into)
"I woke up and had no idea what was going on - I walked into the kitchen to take a dump" (MK, referring to his Sunday morning)
"This is the first I have heard the term 'Cock Block' and will be incorporating it in to my everyday worklife as often as possible" (SS via e-mail)
"That song is Spunky. And I need to inject some Spunk into my life this summer" (me, to Erin, referring to this)
"She doesn't like Shia LeBouf??? Why the fuck does anyone have a problem with Shia LeBouf??" (RK)
"Hurricane!!" (Recken)
"Vaginal discharge" (texted to me by a guy on my blogroll who shall remain nameless during a very important work meeting)
"The 80s called and they want their shoes back" (SR, referring to these)
"I want my own Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa!" (MA, while listening to Vampire Weekend)
"I can't serve you shots of vodka because that's against the rules. However, I can serve you tumblers of vodka over ice if you'd prefer" (by the bartender and Erin & Ryan's reception)
"I'm embarrassed to ride in your car with you!" (AR, referring to my piece of shit rental car)
"I've been duped by Newton Faulkner!" (me to Ryan & Erin, after purchasing the less-than-stellar new NF CD)
"We'll be a power couple in Boston!" (Recken)

2008-05-16T14:22:00.000-05:00

Hiya Kids:

For the sake of my remaining 12 readers who are now contemplating leaving this blog in the dust, I thought it prudent to post and say hello.

Things have been hella busy. I've pretty much forgotten how to blog, and I haven't been reading anybody else's (the Google Reader count for unread posts from my blogroll at left is something like 220).

I'm in Seattle and have been for the last week. Yesterday was the culmination of a major work project/event which had been progressively taking up more and more of my time. And I'm exhausted - instead of celebrating the success of the event, I attended a work reception where I didn't eat or drink, and my evening ended with me laying on my hotel bed at midnight, enjoying a dinner of M&Ms and potato chips (seriously).

But now that it's done, things will slow down. Heading back to Chicago next Tuesday, so although it has been busy it is awesome spending two weeks in the Pacific Northwest. Fresh air, good friends and all that bullshit. Hopefully no pig statue riding this time, though.*

Two of my best friends in the world had their wedding reception last weekend in Portland. Enough material there to write a dozen posts about how awesome it was. And I purchased a new suit for it on a whim. I am a bit of a dandy.

I did well during Finals week last week. Not great, but good. Considering how little time I had to devote to studying and preparing presentations and papers, I am content.

Awright, gotta go into another debriefing meeting. Then tomorrow I'll be driving down to Portland (again) for a long weekend. Of the last four weekends, three of them have been/will be spent down there, which is Proper.

* Although I can really never rule that possibility out, especially since tonight I'm hanging with ReckenRoll who got me into that kind of trouble in the first place.

Random

2008-05-03T00:21:00.007-05:00

[this photo has nothing to do with anything, but I thought it was funny and it is one of Recken's neighbours]

It's 12:45 on Friday night/Saturday morning. And I was studying but I don't feel like it anymore. I could go home and sleep but the coffee and bag of M&Ms (and not a little bag - one of those big ones) I had for dinner have me feeling, well, awake. So I will continue to hang here at Starbucks with all the other complete losers.

To add insult to injury, it is a beautiful night here in Chicago, and Classy invited me to experience the freakshow spectacle of Looptopia. Rubber monkey puppets and M.A.D.D. Rhythms' Tapethetically Speaking rhythm nation tapdancing vibe? Normally I'd be all up in that shit, but I gots to study. Meissner corpuscles and interventricular foramina aren't going to learn my brain all by themselves, if you know what I'm saying.

I've been thinking about my week, reflecting on some of the more random things that I've experienced. Share them with you? Sure, but only because you are insisting. In no particular order:

I woke up on Thursday and realized that I hadn't had a shower since Tuesday. As I normally shower at least once a day, I still cannot figure out how I let the hell that one slip by. See, this is the problem with working alone and generally being anti-social -- there's nobody around to tell you that you smell.

Tuesday night I had a disturbing dream that I was drowning. To the point that I remember that horrible sensation of water filling my lungs and not being able to breathe. This is especially peculiar since I'm a good swimmer and have I've always believed that it would be impossible for me to drown even in the worst circumstances. Guess not.

Another weird dream I had yesterday: I finally met Neil Finn in a hotel lobby (Crowded House is back in Chicago next weekend and I'm sad because I'm missing the show as I will be out of town. My love for Neil and Crowded House is well-documented). Anyway, in the dream I blathered to him how much I loved him and his music and he's a genius and blah, blah, blah and I actually started crying in the dream. WTF?

Speaking of WTF and crying, on the treadmill the other day watching CNN (there's only so much VH-1 I can watch) and it was a report on New Orleans and I started crying. At the gym. On the treadmill. In front of other people.

Anybody remember that song "Steel Claw" by Ms. Tina Turner? Yes? No? Well if not, you best be looking it up because it is the Shit. "It doesn't matter when you're lying in the gutter... It's what you get for messing with the steel claw." Damn, that's poetry right there.

My roommate is a sweet girl and she recently found me on Facebook (still not sure how that happened...). But if she sends me one more fucking hug/happy hour/teddy bear/"what kind of car/ice cream/pony are you?" bullshit invite application I will take a hammer to her keyboard.

At school I got an actual love note passed to me. It was like being in high school all over again (except I never got love notes passed to me in high school but nevermind). I'll spare all the details but it read along the lines of: "I see you in the library and cafeteria and if you want to hang out this summer call me..." If this person only knew I was probably twice her age she'd probably throw up. But anyway, I guess the attention from barely legal girls can be flattering? Or not? Nevermind.

Can pink eye be caused from stress? Cuz there's something not pretty happening yesterday and today with my left eye.

Also, I have a goddamned pimple in my ear. Seriously. WTF?

Thanks and have a good weekend.

I Have No Title For This Post

2008-04-30T09:43:00.010-05:00

I need to take a few days off from blogging.

Work is kicking my ass (my 25 hour-per-week contract has stretched into 35 hours-per-week to prepare for a major work event in two weeks).

School is kicking my ass (quiz tonight, term paper due Monday, A&P final exam on Monday, final presentation on Wednesday).

So I leave you with the below, which I think really captures in a single photo the essence of my Friday evening in Seattle:

[Photo courtesy of Recken.]

All I can say is: It's a stuggle, livin' like a good boy oughta.

That, and: I'm Nobody's Monkey Boy.

Proper, bitches.

Going West

2008-04-24T00:05:00.003-05:00

I'm off to Seattle for work for the rest of the week, then down to Portland for the weekend.

Very excited.

It will be good to get to both places, since Portland used to be home and I haven't been to Seattle in more than 3 years. Getting a good healthy dose of the Familiar will do me some good. On the agenda:

good Thai food (seriously, they're few & far between in Chicago)

many cocktails in Belltown with the Wingman and Kate

a cow chip cookie while I peruse Elliot Bay Company

Powell's, bitches!

not hanging out in a women's bathroom with Not Carrie

a little somethin-somethin from Local 35

a stiff drink from Muu-Muus or a beer at Doug Fir. Or both.

a run through Forest Park

American Dream Pizza

Yeah, there's no way I will get through half of the above, but we're going to give it a shot.

Bring It!

Ghost of Myself

2008-04-23T00:21:00.003-05:00

Not a Reliable Narrator posted the other day about what would happen if her teenage self could look into the future to see her current self, what would the teenage self think? Or the 20-something self?

It of course got me thinking about how I would answer. I think if either my teenage or my 20-something self were to spend 24 hours with me today and engage me in conversation, this would happen:

Teen Self: "Wow, you're kinda sad. Why should I even bother trying to get through high school and college if this is how you are going to end up?"
20-Something Self: "Dude, what the hell is going on with you? I thought we were making real progress here. We've got good friends, on the path to a kick-ass job... Plus, we lost all that baby fat."

I'm kinda joking here, but there's some truth to it. My life right now is pretty strange and messed up. Compared to a few years ago, when I had a comfortable job (and while it didn't leave me very fulfilled, it did provide me with smart, funny and generally great co-workers and great opportunities that made it easy to get through the day); I lived in a city I loved surrounded by good friends; I owned my own home.

Today, I work for myself so that I can also take classes (which can be incredibly stressful and leaves me spending most of my day alone); going to school (after completing my Masters, it is someplace I never wanted to be again, and I grow continually frustrated at the amount of time it will take me to get my degree); am single; am living in a place I don't necessarily want to be; choose not to deal very well with my father's health issues; break down into tears almost daily ('cuz I find the best way to deal with tough situations is to cry); have a few good friends here in Chicago but I don't usually feel very social (most of whom don't know the "old" me, who I liked better than the "current" me); rent a tiny bedroom in an apartment I share with two other people (neither of whom I am overly friendly with) so that I can save money for school.

And most days I'm actually pretty OK with all of this. Not thrilled, obviously, but I'm in this strange situation because I made the choices - about my life, my relationships, and my career - that put me here. So I'm doing the mature thing and dealing with it. Getting through it.

Whatevs. It is late and I am tired and I still have to study for a quiz tomorrow and try and catch a plane.

(Back to regularly scheduled [Cherry]-ness tomorrow.)

Earth Day

2008-04-22T09:19:00.004-05:00

Happy Earth Day!Here's how I'll be celebrating:

Taking Wendell G. out for an all-natural fruit smoothie.
Doing this to every SUV driver I see (except I'll be flipping the "V" instead of the finger).
Choosing not to shower today. Or use toilet paper.*

Proper.

* This is really no different than any other day, though.

Keep Calm and Carry On

2008-04-21T07:23:00.002-05:00

I recently purchased the above poster from artist SFGirlByBay.

It is a reprint of a British WWII propaganda poster created in 1939 by the Ministry of Defense when it was decided that the war with Germany was unavoidable and imminent. The poster was to be distributed throughout England with the purpose of informing King George VI's subjects that all capable measures were being taken to defend the country. However, the poster was never officially used and went unseen by most citizens.

The print now hangs on my bedroom door where I can see it both as the first and last thing as I rest my eyes. And although my chaotic life is nothing compared to that of Londoners living in constant fear of being blown to shit during WWII, I think the poster serves to give me some perspective. I'm a bit stressed that the semester is winding down (a few more quizzes, final exam and group presentations are on the immediate horizon) and I'm in the middle of planning/organizing a big conference for work taking place the week after finals. And because of this, I'm a bit freaked and not sleeping well.

So at least now I have something to stare at as I lay in bed. Not sleeping...

I Might Be a H.O.B. Whore

2008-04-18T06:37:00.006-05:00

Last night my good friends Greg and Stacey came up from Indy for the Sara Bareilles show at House of Blues, which was sweet and fun. And we had a great time and I miss them.

Off topic: I stuffed my camera down my pants as to get it past security. Having cold metal and plastic snuggling your taint is a good time. Also off topic: If I was a straight single guy, this would have been my night. Wall-to-wall Bettys. (And some lesbians, too. But not a Geigh in sight, which is odd.)

But anyway. Sara looked pretty much just as she did in her "Love Song" video - down to the pretty, slender dress and the pulled-back hair. And she was clever and funny and sweet, and it got me all flustered and thinking about my fantasy scenario, and at one point between songs I yelled: "I LOVE YOU SARA!" which got a few chuckles.

And then I remembered that just a few months ago I professed my love for Neil Finn in the exact same way!! Is it the atmosphere at House of Blues? Or am I just a little bit of a (sexually confused) slut?

(Ed. Note: I know this post is ripe for snarky comments from some/all of you. But No Judging, people.)

PS - 5.4 earthquake hit Illinois this morning. And like most significant events, I slept right through it.

I'm On The Boat Shoe Boat!

2008-04-17T07:30:00.000-05:00

That right there is a photo of my latest purchase.

Yeah, they're boat shoes. And they're spectacular.

And I don't care how much you dislike them. I've been hankering to buy me some for several months now, and the write-up in this month's GQ sealed the deal (not to mention a story

from last summer in the NYT).

I never had a pair growing up (didn't really want them actually; mostly because they weren't considered cool on da South Side -- only the lame suburban kids wore them).

But I'm bringing the boat shoe back, bitches. Big time. And yes, they'll go sweetly with my favorite shorts, in case you were asking.

Bring on summer! PROPER!

It's Hard Out Here for a Sunday Morning Alcoholic

2008-04-15T07:31:00.000-05:00

For my Chicago readers: Did you know that you can't but alcohol before 11am on a Sunday?

WTF?

Sunday I was heading to a Bloody Mary brunch and I volunteered to make and bring the Bloody Marys. It is a big responsibility but I felt that I was responsible enough to handle it, as did my hosts (mistake). I had ever intention of buying the materials in advance on Saturday afternoon/evening. But after a long day of not studying and not catching up on some work projects, I decided to reward myself by putting on my pajamas (at 5:30!), eating Ranch flavored Wheat Thins and cheese spread, and watching "30 Rock" from Netflix on my computer and heading to bed around 10:30.* So needless to say, I never made it back out that night.**

Anyway, so Sunday morning I arrive at Dominick's and head to the liquor section, and while there a voice comes over the PA system: "Attention customers, please be aware that no alcohol can be sold before 11am." What the hell?

Now, normally I would throw my arms in the air, curse audibly, and flick some innocent Dominick's employee the "V" sign (which has become my new favorite "fuck you" gesture -- see photo at left).*** But since there were people depending on me, I vowed not to give up and instead try another grocery store (in this case the ghetto Jewel in West Town), where maybe restrictions would be a bit more lax.

Turns out they weren't. There was an employee working the liquor section there watching the place like a hawk, not letting anyone step foot in her domain. She did however let me in to buy some non-alcoholic BM**** mix.

Still not deterred, I came up with a plan: If I could sneak back in while she had her back turned, I could grab a bottle of vodka and bring it to the checkout -- because I was convinced that the slacker 19-year old clerk working the register would not be aware of this ridiculous arcane law (after all, if I wasn't aware, he would not be either!) and I would get out of there with alcohol in hand.

So sure enough, I waited until the biddy stepped into the back room and -bam!- like a puma I pounced on that vodka end cap and headed to the cashier. Unfortunately the cashier was on his game and I was deee-nied. To add insult to the injury, he also wouldn't sell me the non-alcoholic BM mix, because after a long discussion with both the cashier and the store manager (not kidding), I was informed that the computer has that item locked-out of the computer until 11am and there was no override. So naturally, I threw my arms in the air, cursed audibly (I actually said: "This is bullshit!"),and left, turning to flick them the "V" sign. as I walked out the door. (Yeah I totally showed them!)

As it turned out, everything ended OK. Even though brunch started at 10, we were able to keep the thirsty guests at bay for an hour with a small bottle the hosts had. And at 11, I ran to Rothschild's Liquor store down the street to get the vodka. But let me tell you something: There's no experience quite like waiting outside Chicago's sketchiest liquor store on a Sunday morning with a half-dozen drunkards to buy alcohol. Where else can you see a woman yelling at her grandchild to quit her crying "for a minute so she can get her beer" while the guy behind you in line gets all up in your grill so he can set down his two fortys because his arms are shaking too much to hold them any longer. It is a soul-crushing experience. And naturally, I recommend it to all of you.

So to summarize:

Don't even think about buying liquor before 11am in Chicago on Sunday.
I'm calling the ACLU about this law, because it is total bullshit.
I'm bringing the "V" symbol to America. Big Time. Because it is totally effective.
Ranch flavored Wheat Thins and cheese spread is the bomb.
Swear to God, I'm not really a loser. Seriously, I'm not. *****

* I'm no shrink, but I might be depressed.
** Try not to be jealous.
*** Who am I kidding? I did it anyway.
**** Any excuse to write "BM" is funny.
***** I'm not, right?

My Hot Summer Romance

2008-04-12T11:52:00.010-05:00

I got me a new bicycle yesterday, a Specialized Sirrus in sleek black.

His name is Wendell G. (Wendell means "wanderer" in German), - and he's spectacular.

The above photo is just an approximation, as Wendell is tricked out with all kinds of top-of-the-line commuter bike accoutrements - fenders, blinking lights, a rack for the back and - hells yeah - a bell. He's even got an intricate award-winning lock system which locks my wheels and seat making him (or rather, his parts) much more difficult to be stolen. (Chicago ranks #2 in the US for bicycle thefts, but #1 in per-capita thefts. Isn't that awesome?) Wendell G. is the frickin' Batmobile of commuter bikes, yo.

He's almost too pretty to ride*, but I'm confident that after just a few weeks of braving Milwaukee Avenue potholes and crazy-ass drivers, he'll have some sweet battle scars and won't be just another pretty face.

My other bike, Veronica, has been good to me and I'm going to keep her close. She was the best $105 Craigslist investment I ever made. But she's getting a little long in the tooth (actually, she was already long in the tooth when I got her) and she's a big girl (I'm pretty sure she's made of iron and weighs around 80 pounds). And she's purple. The great things about Veronica are that if hit by a car, the car would have more damage, and nobody would want to steal her.

But I figured since I'm spending about an hour a day 3-4 times a week commuting to/from school and work, it was time to treat myself to an upgrade. The original plan was to buy something more down-market, but really, who was I kidding? I am a sucker for new, pretty, shiny things. And the sales guy was cute. And did I mention I was a sucker?

Anyway, I think Wendell G. and I are going to have a good summer. We'll go to Pitchfork, Lollapalooza, the Lakefront, rooftop parties, backyard barbecues, etc. Don't be jealous.

PS - this post is very timely, since it is fucking snowing outside at the moment.

* That's what she said.

It's Raining McCain

2008-04-10T09:45:00.001-05:00

Holy shit have you seen this video?

The McCain "girls" (I use that term loosely) are getting absolutely stinking... McCain. What does that mean, exactly, if it's raining McCain? It's raining dentures and double chins?

Who is the old biddy in this thing? And what's with the one on the right - is she mute? Actually, I'll bet this is a clever ploy by either Hilary or Obama to steal votes away from McCain.

I'm not sure which is more funny: the video itself or the comments on YouTube. I think commenter "thaintrain" says it best: "this is some dumb shit."

UPDATE - It's a Hoax!

Like They Always Say: It Isn't a Vacation in Mexico...

2008-04-08T21:21:00.009-05:00

... until someone is rushed to the hospital to have her appendix removed.

[Sign in the waiting room of the Amat Hospital in downtown Cancun.]

So as I hinted before, the Cancun vacation was a lot of fun. It would be hard not to (condo on the beach, awesome weather, great friends gathered together for a reunion). But I, as well as my friends, learned a valuable lesson this time, which is: We're Getting Old.

It's true. The last time this same group of us got together for a Cancun adventure four years ago (thanks to Grandma and her time share), there were Daiquiris and Miami Vices, hours spent at the swim-up bar, drunken handstands in the pool, illicit partying with Canadian community college Spring Breakers, you name it.

This time there was a lot of sickness going around, tired parents and pregnant woman heading to bed by 10pm, one of us having to leave a day early for a work emergency, and the above mentioned emergency appendix removal at a local hospital.

These things tend to put a damper on the festivities.

Still, we did manage to have more than our share of good times: upping the already high alcohol content of our drinks on the beach with our own bottle of vodka (see photo on the left), Original Trannie Hookers and 1-800 Mexi-cock, the unfulfilled promise of La Tequila Pistola, crazy taxicab drivers, jamon rolls & hot peppers (muy delicioso!), me getting busted by cleaning staff for using the women's bathroom, and the usual watching (judging) of fat Midwesterners on the beach from our 5th floor balcony.

I just hope that when we do this again, we can all manage to stay out of the hospital (unless it's for an alcohol-related injury). Or awake past eleven (unless passed out from drinking all day). Because that would be, like, definitely more acceptable.

Open Letters (Special "The Airline Industry Can Suck It" Edition)

2008-04-06T18:43:00.014-05:00

[Remember this Twilight Zone episode with the monster on the airplane wing? This was about the only thing that didn't happen to me during my travel day yesterday.]

My Cancun trip was great but not without some issues, which will be chronicled in my next post. But in honor of the 17 hour ordeal it took for me to get home yesterday (sadly that is not an exaggeration), I present you with the next installment of Open Letters.

PS - To all you Haters who commented that I seem to take a lot of vacations, I have only this to say: It isn't easy being me (as illustrated below).

Dear Mexicana Air Passengers On The 1:20 Flight to Miami Who Showed Up An Hour Before Your Flight: Thanks for teaching me a valuable lesson that it does indeed pay to sleep in and show up late for your flight. While the rest of us did the responsible thing and arrived to the airport at least 2 hours before our international flights, a whole busload of you fuckers got special treatment by skipping the long lines and heading straight to the front desk as to not miss your flight. While I then had to wait even longer because you got to go ahead of me. Bravo! Oh, and also: Fuck You.

Dear Incompetent Mexicana Air Ticket Agent: While I appreciate your effort to multitask and check several people in at the same time, I’d like to thank you for mixing up my passport with someone else's and leaving me identity-free in a foreign country. And thank you for trying to make me look like the idiot when I asked you for my passport back and you insisted - in your snotty fey way - that you already gave it back to me when in actuality you not only did not give it back to me, you put it into a stack of passports that were handed back to someone else (!). Given the fact that at this point I had already been waiting in line for 90 minutes (see above open letter), I appreciated those long 5 minutes of waiting and praying that the woman passenger who did actually have it would come back to the counter and return it so that I would be able to leave the country.

Dear Benito Juarez International Airport: Thanks for not turning on the air conditioner Saturday. It made my two-hour layover that much more pleasant. Oh, and also: I'm reasonably sure they sell vacuum cleaners in Mexico City. There's a Wal-Mart there somewhere. Look into it.

Dear Customs Lady at Zacatecas International Airport: After searching my carry-on bag, thanks for telling me that I had to throw out the $12 worth of bottled water, Gatorade and Coke Zero (I was thirsty and needed to get rid of some pesos) that I purchased during the layover in Mexico City before I re-boarded the plane. Yeah, I’ll get right on that. I understand you do things differently in Mexico, but that just doesn't make any sense. Eat me.

Dear Incompetent Mexicana Air Flight Attendant: Thanks for spilling that kettle of scalding-hot water on the poor woman in 6-A, causing us to make an unplanned emergency stop in Dallas so that she could be treated at the fucking hospital, and prolonging the already long trip for the rest of us by another hour. I hope you and the airline have a good lawyer.

Dear CTA Blue Line: Thanks so much for NOT posting a sign at O’Hare letting us know you’re doing track work and that the line between Cumberland and Jefferson Park is fucking closed. Had I known, I would have taken a fucking cab and gotten home at 2:30 am instead of 3:30 am. Go fuck yourselves.

Dear Drunken Smelly Vagrant In My Train Car: Normally the incredible odor radiating from your being and permeating the whole fucking car alone would be enough for a shout-out, but I’d really like to thank you for waiting until the train left the Jefferson Park station towards the city before you woke suddenly from your drunken stupor, stumbled over to my end of the car, and whipped it out to empty the entire contents of your bladder onto the floor directly opposite of where I was sitting. It was the icing on the cake of my shitty travel day, and just the kind of “Welcome Back to Chicago” message I was lacking. Hats off to you!

While I'm Gone

2008-03-27T19:52:00.000-05:00

It is currently sleeting in Chicago. Normally I would hate this, but in a matter of hours I'll be boarding a plane for a warmer clime. That's right shawties, the [Cherry] is going on vacation.

For the next 8 days I will be: starting my day with an OJ and margarita, swimming and body surfing in the ocean, getting a great tan on the beach, eating jamon-flavored chips and taking afternoon siestas with the cool breeze of the Gulf of Mexico lulling me to sleep.

When I return I expect:

Temperatures in the 60s in Chicago.
The Democrats to get their act together.
The Sox to win their home opener.
A good lineup for this year's Lolla announced.
John McCain to get his teeth fixed. (Seriously, if I need to look at him talk over these next few months the least he can do is go see a dentist.)
Hilarious stories of general douchebaggery, intoxication, and/or sexual deviation and depravity over the April Fools Holiday (one of my personal favorite holidays) from all of you.
The iPhone to Nut It Up to at least 40 GBs.
American Idol to be over. Seriously, enough of this shit already.
To look and feel at least 10 hours younger.

Hasta Luego, bitches.

People Are Stupid 2008 (Pt. III)

2008-03-26T11:01:00.000-05:00

At Starbucks this morning, I order my drink (btw, it is amazing how quickly a $50 gift card runs out) and then while I'm waiting I take my RedEye and go put it at a table. After putting down the newspaper, I go up to the counter to get my drink.

In the meantime, a see a guy walk in and put his stuff down at the same small table that I've put my newspaper, then go stand in line to order his coffee. I'm a bit annoyed but not really, since it isn't as though I'd expect him to know that was my newspaper.

Once my coffee comes up, I take it, go back to the table where I'd put the Red Eye, take the newspaper and move to the next table over.

A few minutes later the other guy sits down at the table, and noticing that the Red Eye is gone, frowns, looks over to me and the following moronic conversation ensues:
Guy: "Is that the newspaper that was right here?
Me: "Yes, it is."
Guy: "Hmmpf. I was reading that."
Me (thinking:) OK, so you're a liar and an idiot. "No. No, actually you weren't. I was reading it. You see, I set it down at the table before you came in, and while I was waiting for my coffee you came in and took my seat."
Guy: "Oh... Sorry."
Me: "Not a problem."

Douchie McDouchebag

Beer: It's What's For Dinner

2008-03-22T12:58:00.007-05:00

Note to self: Beer for dinner is not a good idea. Especially after no lunch and a 2-mile swim. Not Carrie Bradshaw was in town for most of the week, and although it was sad to see her go, my liver could certainly use the break.

In other news, I've started a new Flickr! album called "100 Drunk Portraits." It is similar to my "100 Portraits" album, except it will be photos of sober friends pretending to be drunk.

Once I've collected 100-or-so, I am going to sell it to Phaidon and turn it into a coffee table book and make millions.

Things I Learned This Weekend - Special St. Patty's Edition

2008-03-17T16:55:00.000-05:00

In no particular order:

I might have become a Dewar's drinker. Jury is still deliberating, so stay tuned.
I've mastered the talent to actually will myself into a buzz. It is a Mad Skill and I'm going to write a book about it.
Despite my hatred for all things St. Patty's Day-related, I still folded to the pressure of dressing the part: green t-shirt, green underwear, and even a stupid green bowler hat (although I don't recall exactly how I got it).
The Lair's Club (this one) can get really lame after 2am. (Come to think of it, so can this one, since Niner bailed before 1am, Gancer bailed moments after arrival, and Classy was a no-show.)
Not Carrie Bradshaw loves "SHOTS!"
Cookies with sprinkles rule.
I never wish to never set foot in this place again (and yes, the place is as bad as their lame website suggests).
The ladies room at Big City Tap is really no different than the men's.

Open Letters

2008-03-14T00:01:00.002-05:00

Dear Man Riding the Blue Line During Rush Hour with Four Giant Suitcases Taking Up Four Seats: The rest of us have to stand because you're too fucking cheap to get a cab from the airport into the city? Fuck you, asshole.

Dear Old Guy Sitting Next To One of the Only Electrical Outlets in Starbucks (That I'd Really Like to Use): I can imagine that being an old retiree can probably be boring, and that you need to get out every once in awhile. But when you come in here and do nothing but read the paper really slowly drinking fucking McDonald's coffee that you didn't even buy here at Starbucks, you need to go.

Dear Elliot Spitzer: Damn, man. We are all human. But why, why you of all people? I was already ready to vote for you for President in 2016.

Dear Beth from MTV's Real World: I caught a portion of "Real World/Road Rules Extreme Gauntlet This Time It's Personal Challenge" or whatever the hell the show is while at the gym. Two questions came to mind immediately: 1) They're still making this show? 2) They're still making Real World and Road Rules? Anyway, more shocking than that realization is that I saw you on it. Seriously? You seriously have nothing better to do with your life? Remember that time sophomore year in college when you went to that house party off campus and there was that sad old girl there who was, like, 24 and an alumni from the school and hitting on all your guy friends and you thought she was so pathetic for being that old and desperate? Yeeaahhh. Well, that's you. Except you're not 24; you're like 40. Time to move on.

Dear Old Man Sitting in Sauna at Gym: Your knowledge of early Scandinavian settlers to Michigan's Upper Peninsula seems extensive and impressive. Really. But why the hell would you think that I would be interested in hearing about it? This is a sauna, not a dinner table. I'm trying to relax, dammit.

Dear Pandora Radio: We've had a good relationship these past two years. But you're getting lazy on me. Stop playing songs I've already given the thumbs up to. Isn't the point that you're supposed to introduce me to new music? Quit slacking and get algorithym-ing again.

Dear Dan, My Lab Partner: Swear to God, you need to shut up or I will kill you.

'Cuz It's Never Too Early...

2008-03-13T12:57:00.001-05:00

Tickets to Pitchfork went on sale yesterday. Hells yeah I bought mine.
(I missed the advanced tickets for Lolla 08 last week, but whatevs.)

I think this means there might be a Summer this year.

Blue Line Blues

2008-03-11T10:39:00.001-05:00

[the monitors at Clark/Lake subway stop]

Every morning I take the Blue Line to the Clark/Lake stop to transfer to the Brown Line. Since the Blue Line is also the line out of the city to O'Hare, there are monitors set up at Clark/Lake with status of mostly domestic departing flights. I suppose this is to aid commuters heading out the the airport. Very helpful, right?

Personally, I find this not helpful in the least. It is torture, really.

Every. Single. Weekday morning. I am compelled to glance at it as I weave through the crowds and rush of the morning commute - the 9:50 flight to San Fran; the 10:10 to Portland; the noon flight to JFK; LA; Vegas; DC; Austin. Or my favorite - the 2:30 to Heathrow. Fuck you, American Airlines.

You get the picture. It is as though these monitors are there to remind me that I'm not going anywhere. Except to my office or class. When all I really want is to get on a plane and go somewhere; anywhere away from the snow and cold and homework. Sigh.

Anatomy Terms I've Studied That Might Also Be Bands I Saw in College

2008-03-06T16:33:00.009-06:00

Hypotonic Solution
Sulcus
Nodes of Ranvier
False Pelvis
Vasa Recta
Xiphoid Process
Golgi Complex
Weber Test
Glenoid Fossa
Axon Hillock
Wharton's Jelly
Circle of Willis

Actually, I think Circle of Willis is opening for Howard Baldwin Trophy this summer, so be sure to check them out.

At Least I'm Getting an "A" for Sarcasm

2008-03-05T10:22:00.001-06:00

In honor of my A&P mid term this evening, a little classroom humor...

Last week in A&P, my professor stopped lecture to look at the clock and ask, "Is that the real time? Is the clock running slow?"

To which I replied a little too loudly, "No, it only seems like it."

Ba-Dum-Bum.

I'm here all semester, folks. Be sure to tip your server.

Thoughts on the Bush Administration

2008-03-04T10:01:00.002-06:00

Last week as I was watching his press conference from the treadmill, I began to wonder about George and specifically what the hell it is that he does all day, now that he's worked himself into total irrelevancy.

Sure, he's got the periodic press conference (I loved how his solution to both the impending recession and gas crisis is to "Blame Congress") and the occasional overseas trips to kinda-
important-but-not-really-strategic places like Africa (and I'm sure he's probably got a trip planned soon to the Falklands or Iceland maybe).

But on a day-to-day basis, what do you think he does these days? You think he's in bed by nine (yes)? Maybe catching up on "Lost" or "Heroes" -- you know, the shows he probably couldn't watch when he was too busy fucking up the planet over the last few years?

And how about Dick Cheney? I mean, WTF? Has anyone seen or heard from him in the last 6 months? Is he dead (hopefully)? Or is he in the shop getting his robot parts fixed?

Guesses are welcome.

When Good Dogs Go Bad

2008-02-29T10:03:00.000-06:00

Last month's GQ had an interesting article written by John Sullivan called "Violence of the Lambs." His basic premise is that essentially, animals are revolting against and attacking humans in ways previously unseen in history. This phenomenon is actually being studied by a group of scientists, some of whom contend that it is as though a Cosmic Memo has been sent to the entire animal kingdom, and that Memo reads: "Do your part to ensure the extinction of the human race!"

The article goes into detail of bizarre attacks against humans by every sort of animal imaginable (including those previously believed to be harmless to mankind). But one particular paragraph made me spit out my coffee in laughter:

"In America... at least four people have been shot by their dogs in the past two years. One incident involved a stun gun... In another incident, in Memphis, a dog shot its owner in the back while the man was arguing with his girlfriend..."

Are you fucking kidding me? Dogs shooting people?? I thought maybe this was a joke, but an internet news search uncovered evidence to verify this.

And I know this is wrong, but why is it that I find myself feeling bad for the dogs in this situation, and not the people who were shot?

PS - this photo has nothing to do with this entry, but I must point out that it came up when I did an image search for "dogs with guns." I bet these poor cowgirls would be pissed if they only knew.

People Are Stupid 2008 (Pt. II)

2008-02-27T11:15:00.004-06:00

So yesterday I'm at the same Walgreens as last time, and an even stupider thing happens.

I'm standing in line waiting for the next available cashier and this guy walks right past me to stand behind a woman who has just paid for her stuff and is about to leave. WTF?

For those of you not familiar with the typical layout of a Walgreens checkout area (they're all the same), trust me when I say that there's no way this person couldn't recognize that I'm standing in line waiting for the next cashier. You have to be either 1) a moron, or 2) an asshole not to see it. Either way, it is behaviour that I cannot fucking stand in other people. That disrespectful notion that someone else's time is fundamentally more important than someone else's. Christ, I hate that shit.

I say "excuse me, but there's a line" and he's all apologetic and then comes to stand next to me. When the woman is done and the cashier says "next in line" the idiot turns to me and says, "Go ahead."

Like he's doing me a favor by letting me proceed.

Really? I can go ahead now? You're giving me permission to go? Geez thanks - you're such a nice guy. Fuck off, douchebag.

Swear to God, someday that Walgreens is going to burn down to the ground, if you know what I'm saying.

The Liar's Club

2008-02-26T10:23:00.008-06:00

[this is what happens when you give Classy the camera]

Last Thursday, the Liar's Club got together under the guise of planning our upcoming Pony Blegger*. But naturally, conversation deviated to pretty much everything else. You can read the highlights here.

And yes, please do read the highlights. The numbers over at the LC have been down and we need to get them back up. Comment early and often.

* Yo, a "Blegger" is a kegger for bloggers, shawties.

Fuck You, Ralph Nader

2008-02-24T11:50:00.007-06:00

And fuck anybody that votes for him.

[There, I said it.]

Someone in Germany Wants Me Dead

2008-02-22T10:42:00.006-06:00

... OK not really, but I did freak when I first saw this while perusing my stats on Technorati this morning (shut up - I couldn't sleep last night):

I think the "Happy Days Ahead" makes it particularly funny, no?

In other news, the Oscars are this weekend. BFD. I do appreciate the Juno backlash that has begun though.

New York State of Mind (Pt. II: Electric Boogaloo)

2008-02-20T10:14:00.018-06:00

So where to begin with the rest of the weekend?

I'll start with a lowlight: It sucks walking around Manhattan in the cold light of day with a hangover. It sucks waiting in a long line outside in the cold light of day with a hangover in Times Square trying to get tickets to Spring Awakening, only to discover 45 fucking minutes into the wait that tickets are sold out anyway. Fuerzabruta? Also sold out. And I don't even like Broadway shows; all I wanted to do is get one of those cookies with colored sprinkles on them from the Roxy, but even that proved to be impossible.

Now on to the rest. Later, we decided to drink in our hotel room like Chingy, except we're not at the Holiday Inn, we're at the fucking Hilton New York Midtown (tres classier), bitches. And instead of sipping on Hen, we're drinking 40s of Kirin beer and lots of vodka lemonades (as a professional bartender, Krista makes these lemonade elixirs that defy explanation in their goodness and level of intoxication; the trouble I've gotten into by drinking these has been well documented on this and other blogs). And instead of listening to Snoop and Luda and watching BET, we're listening to Roxette, the Jacksons (Janet and Michael) and watching the Top Design marathon on Bravo.

Because that's how we roll, shawties.

Anyway, Krista and I are sufficiently lubricated and head down to the hotel lobby bar to wait for my friend Sean to arrive. While there, we notice the older unhappily married couple next to us listening in to our conversation. I hate that shit, so we decide to stage a fight ("You never listen to a word I say!" and "You need to see the doctor about your erectile dysfunction!") and soon the unhappily marrieds have left our corner.

Soon afterwards the three of us meet up with my friend Doug at some strange loft party in the East Village. You know when you've been drinking and you're out and the edges of your peripheral vision start getting fuzzy? I've passed that point about 30 minutes earlier. The party is large and dark and loud. Doug hands each of the three of us a drink that I suspect to be gin and fruit punch. Or maybe sake and carrot juice. I'm not sure, but the point is it is disgusting. But not so disgusting that I don't finish the whole thing in a hurry because the party is ending (but we've just arrived!) and we're off to Automatic Slims in the West Village.

Automatic Slims is hot and oh-so-crowded. We think about leaving immediately, but the Supremes, then Prince, then (I think) the Eagles come on, so we stay. And drink some more.

Next is The Spotted Pig (there's a theme emerging among our choice of bars), which is fine but I spot no celebrities. Sean, Krista and I are there for at least an hour and engaged in some deep passionate discussions yet I can remember pretty much none of it.

To keep the Weekend of Pork theme alive, the evening ends with some slices of pepperoni and bacon from Ray's on 7th. Oh, and then there was the hot dog from Papaya King at the airport.

So to recap the weekend:

1) we drink (a lot);

2) we are a part of the Rhythm Nation
3) we make new friends (Jersey kids, New Zealand people, girls at the ATM);

4) we anger some people (unhappy married couple, white leather jacket girl);

5) we hate Times Square;
6) pork.

New York State of Mind (Pt. I)

2008-02-17T15:03:00.009-06:00

My flight back to Chicago has been delayed by two hours, so I might as well write about my NYC weekend, since I've got nothing else to do. I briefly thought about liveblogging from the wireless lounge here at the JetBlue terminal, but that would be funny for about two seconds. If at all.

My friend Krista and I had planned this weekend for awhile, and the timing was great since I've been pretty stressed out from school and work. Although I've calculated that I've slept about eleven hours over the last three days so that fucking cold I've had over the last three weeks probably ain't going way any time soon. Isn't the point of a weekend getaway to relax? I'm returning more tired then I was when I left. But whateves. This is New York we're talking about here, bitches.

Krista and I arrived into JFK Friday around the same time. We haven't seen each other since May, and the first thing she says to me is that I look like I should be in Janet Jackson's "Rhythm Nation" video (I've got a black coat, jeans, black boots and a hat that she thinks looks rather military - kinda like this, I suppose - but she's of course wrong). This is just the first of several comments to be made by Krista and others about my appearance all weekend.

Because we spent most of the afternoon trying to get tickets to a show (we ended up seeing Avenue Q, which was great), I didn't make it down to visit my old co-workers. We really wanted to see Spring Awakening, and almost did, except my "connection" fell through at the last minute (not getting tickets to Spring Awakening would come back to haunt us Saturday, since most all of that afternoon too was spent hanging around Times Square, standing in line outside in the cold, and then later filling the void left by not going to a show Saturday night by drinking too many vodka lemonades and listening to Pebbles and Roxette in our hotel room. But I'm getting ahead of myself.)

After Avenue Q, we headed down to the Meatpacking District for dinner and ended up at some bar with a pig" or "barbecue" (or both) in the title. How we ended up there is rather a long story that involves us not wanting to get into another cab (it was cold), a pretty solid buzz (an alarming amount of good beer and martinis at dinner), a supposedly good chance at a celebrity sighting and a miscommunication/bad cell phone reception with a friend. It turned out to be a solid choice as we made new friends with some people from New Zealand and got tequila shots from some kids from Jersey (one of whom was highly complementary by saying he thought I "looked British" and also "about 25" -- I wanted to buy him a tequila shot). There was also the threat of me getting my ass potentially kicked by a woman in a nasty white leather coat (trust me, it was hideous) and/or her boyfriend.

When I went to scope out the jukebox, Krista got hit on by some sad middle aged business traveler from London, who was celebrating his last night in town and was desperately trying to get laid. He told me I was a lucky man to have such a lovely girlfriend, and then let it slip out that he was married (Huh? You were just hitting on my friend.). A little later, when Krista scoped out the jukebox (for some "These Dreams" by Heart and something by REO Speedwagon -- I'm surprised we didn't get kicked out of the bar), he came back to our corner and then told me that Krista was lucky to have such a lovely boyfriend. I'm thinking: Are you that desperate to get laid that you're now hitting on me? Sadcakes.

The evening ended with us closing the bar and me later making friends with two women at a bank of ATMs in Times Square (because frankly, I can't get enough of Times Square*) around 5:15 in the morning. One of them had just broken up with her boyfriend, and as she's talking to her friend about it, I blurt out "Men are bastards" and then they're all "I know, right?" and next thing we're just talking and hanging out for about 25 minutes in this bank lobby and one of them is inviting me to hang out with her at the Hudson Hotel for Saturday night (I tell her I love the Hudson and dude, I'll totally be there!) and they're both giving me their digits. And yeah, I totally forgot to call them Saturday (not that it was likely going to happen anyway) which is too bad because they were pretty cool.

OK, enough for now. Time to grab some dinner at the Papaya King and start praying that I won’t be stuck here all evening.

* I'm of course being sarcastic.

Quiz

2008-02-14T07:07:00.003-06:00

In the last two weeks have you:

Not eaten a vegetable, or anything else of any significant nutritional value?
Been frustrated that you have not been able to shake off the same fucking persistent cold you’ve had for the past three weeks?
Broke out into laughter in public for no apparent reason, kinda like a crazy person?
Broke down into tears in public for no apparent reason, kinda definitely like a crazy person?
Walked 100 meters out of your way to take an escalator, just to avoid walking the flight of stairs right in front of you?
Failed two Chemistry quizzes? (Granted, only worth about 1% of your grade, but still…
Honestly thought – even just for a few seconds - that perhaps the Virgin Mary was speaking to you through your car radio?
Gone to bed on a Saturday “night” at 5:45 in the afternoon (that’s right – afternoon – not morning), and slept all the way through until the next morning at 9am (that’s 15 hours for those counting)?
Been both sad and relieved that you don’t have tickets to Friday’s Spice Girls show?

If you answered “Fuck Yeah” to ALL the above questions, then Congratulations – you’re probably me!

Be sure to throw yourself from a 7th story window at your earliest convenience.

john.he.is (Or: Super DUPER Tuesday)

2008-02-12T11:05:00.000-06:00

It isn't my intention to get political two entries in a row, but my friend Kathy sent to me this new viral video homage to John McCain - the Republican nominee for President in 2008 - and it is pretty funny.

And by "funny" I of course mean in that "scary" and "bat-shit crazy" kind of way.

After last week's Obama posting, I think it is only fair that I post McCain's. I don't want to be accused of not giving both sides equal access.

Super Tuesday

2008-02-05T08:51:00.000-06:00

Happy Super Tuesday everone.

So Will.I.Am from Black Eyed Peas has put out a video in support of Barack Obama, which is getting a lot of play.

On the one hand, I applaud the video and what he's (sorry, I refuse to type "Will.I.Am" one more time) doing to use his celebrity to raise awareness and endorse a candidate. And the video itself does a good job of highlighting some of the words from Barack's speech, which can be inspiring.

On the other hand, this is kinda lame, isn't it? If you're going to make a video filled with celebrities, shouldn't it have, well, better celebrities? I mean, c'mon -- the chick from Grey's Anatomy? That kid who was in that movie a few years ago with Uma Thurman and Meryl Streep? This is Barack Obama we're talking about; was nobody else available? At the very least, couldn't he have recruited the rest of the Black Eyed Peas?

And who is the video targeted towards? Young people? Do young people even know who Herbie Hancock is? Has anyone under the age of 30 ever listened to a John Legend song? (Although kudos for digging Kareem Abdul Jabar from obscurity.)

Plus, there isn't a product out there that Will.I.Am won't endorse. In the last three years, he's shilled for Apple, the Gap, Verizon, Honda, XM Satellite Radio and MSN. Seriously. I think his reputation as a celebrity with discerning good taste is starting to wear thin.

Yeah, I'm a dick.

This Week on VH1

2008-01-30T09:02:00.000-06:00

You might think that I watch a lot of TV. VH1 specifically. Not true - I just run a treadmill at the gym for 20+ minutes. That's pretty much all it takes to keep up with America's favorite cable adult contemporary music video channel.

Only two things worth pointing out this week, really:

Maroon 5 - "Won't Go Home Without You"

Lame song.

Bad haircut, Adam (still!).

But nice pants. O so very nice pants.

Sara Bareilles - "Love Song"

I have to say I think I'm in love with Sara Bareilles. Have you seen this video? She's just so damn cute.

She's the ultimate girl next door. When I see this video, I envision her living in the apartment across the hall. She'd be the neighbor that plays piano and bakes in her spare time. Too busy for a boyfriend. We'd become friendly and she'd occasionally bring over cupcakes or have me sample a new casserole recipe she's working on.

One night she'd come over and we'd watch something on Bravo or HGTV and have a bottle of wine and then she'd say something funny and suddenly I'd lean over and kiss her and she'd jump up from the couch saying "But I thought you were supposed to be gay!" and I'd fumble and say "But I think I'm in love with you!" and "But you're on my List*!" and she'd leave in a hurry and then it would be awkward for a few days and we'd avoid each other in the building and then she'd make it big and move to LA, and then a few years would go by and she'd be in town and invite me to her show and then backstage afterwards we'd joke about that one night I kissed her and we'd laugh and then all would be cool because, you know, she'd be like that.

* The "List" is of the women many Gays Would go Straight For (in my case): Jessica Alba, Jennifer Aniston, Cate Blanchett, Rachel Weisz, sometimes Natalie Portman and now Sara Bareilles.

Howard Baldwin Trophy

2008-01-25T10:20:00.000-06:00

I stole this from Julie Gong yesterday (although I've also seen it someplace else I just don't remember where. And Niner's is here.).

This is my band - Howard Baldwin Trophy - and this is our new album "As It Was Before". We're playing the Empty Bottle in March, and you can catch us during our tour of the Mid-Atlantic States this Spring (provided, of course, that our drummer Horatio doesn't relapse).

Our first single, "I Think I Just Sharted (again)!" is getting a lot of critical buzz and there's talk of an appearance soon on Conan.

Things have been going great, actually. Pitchfork called our album "brave" and "experimentally commercial without pandering to general standards of decency or good taste" (I take this as a compliment). Plus, Maggie Gyllenhaal was photographed wearing one of our "I Think I Just Sharted at the Howard Baldwin Trophy show!" t-shirts on Gawker, and our flautist Nick is dating both Tara Palmer-Tomkinson and Steve Aoki.

To create your own:

To get your band name, go here. The title of the entry is your band's name.
Next, go here to get the title of your album. The last four words of the very last quote is the name of your release.
Now go here. The third picture shown is your album cover. No cheating.

Things I Hate This Week

2008-01-24T08:41:00.000-06:00

1. People Who Don't Know How to Ride the Escalator

Stand on the right, walk on the left. Why is it that everyone does not know this? Every night I go to class, all of which are on the 9th floor. The most convenient way to get there is via the escalator. Never - not once - have I been able to get to my destination quickly because of the idiots that stand on the left, blocking the flow of traffic.

Also, I transfer to the Blue Line train at the Clark/Lake stop, and there's an escalator to take you down to the platform. What is with the people who hear the train coming yet continue to stand there (on the left) and not hurry along? Do you not want to catch the approaching train? I just missed my connecting train last night because of some asshole who refused to move aside. Thanks, douchie!

2. Carnie Wilson

Carnie (nice name, btw) was on The Today Show (or rather that show that is on right after The Today Show) yesterday as a guest host or something, and they were talking about the Heath Ledger tragedy. Carnie's response: "He was so sexy."

Umm, really? This is our reaction to Heath Ledger's death 18 hours later? I'm embarrassed for her.

Also, why is she still fat? Didn't she get her stomach removed a few years ago?

3. Balsamic Vinegar Squirting in Your Eye

I was eating a salad yesterday, and goddamn if that shit doesn't hurt like a mother.

File Under: Supportive Friends

2008-01-22T13:05:00.000-06:00

Set-up: I was talking to a friend about some concerns I have over working pretty much full time, managing my two classes this semester and getting an 'A' in both.

Me: "... and then there's Chemistry, which I think is going to be a real nightmare..."
Friend: "But aren't you just taking Basic Chemistry?"
Me: "..."

Thanks, asshole.

People Are Stupid 2008 (Pt. I)

2008-01-17T10:20:00.000-06:00

So I am at Walgreens this morning on my way into work and something happened that reminded me that I hate most people because they're stupid.

I'm in line waiting for the next available cashier. There's also a person behind me waiting too. And then in strolls this older woman, in a hurry. She's nicely dressed, but she's wearing her sunglasses for chrissakes, like she's all cool. Mind you, it is a typical January grey day in Chicago, in fact it is snowing. Yet she's wearing her sunglasses. Indoors. When it is snowing outside. God, I hate that shit.

Anyway, she's acting like she's in this huge hurry and she begins walking straight up to the cashier. As she is doing that, she sees me standing at the opposite end and she asks, "Are you in line?" What a ridiculous question. Like I'm standing in Walgreens with a banana and a juice in my hand for my health or something. Just for shits and giggles. So I say, "Yes."

Then she says, "I just have to get cigarettes." Like if she doesn't get a god-damned Marlboro Light into her mouth at this very second, her insides are going to fall out or something.

So I say: "Well, I just have to get a banana. So..."

I'm not sure what she expected me to reply. "Oh, well then that case, then by all means cut in front of me -- your time is certainly more valuable than mine is! Plus, you're wearing your sunglasses inside on a cloudy day so obviously you are an important person."

She gives me this look like I'm the asshole in this situation and then waits her proper turn in line (or at least waits until I'm done. I can't really say if she tried the same story with the woman behind me but I don't think so.)

Swear to God, I hate people sometimes.

PS - this was written in the classic Holden Caulfield/Catcher in the Rye style. I hope you enjoyed.

This Week on VH1

2008-01-14T08:15:00.000-06:00

Recently, several friends have mentioned how great those little monitors attached to their gym treadmills are because its the only way they get to watch bad cable TV shows.

I heartily agree. Just this morning I turned in and got a rundown on all the exciting things happening this week on VH1. So be sure to tune in.

Rock of Love II
One of my favorite shows from last year is back, although somehow this time around I can't muster the energy to watch it. The winner of last season, Jess, ditched Michaels for some guy here in Chicago. This is a shock to me because it really seemed like their love was real and going to last.

Anyway, it looks like Bret got a new headband this year (see attached photo), so you know, maybe it will be worth watching.

James Blunt is a Douche
So this morning the Top 20 Countdown is on and along comes the video for James Blunt's "Same Mistake." Have you seen this video? Its James Blunt walking around with the stupid video camera attached to chest or something filming his face as he whines and goes about his daily life.

Like we're all supposed to be so fucking interested in James Blunt that we'd choose to look at nothing but his ugly face for 4 minutes. Who makes videos like this? Answer: People who reeaaalllyyyy like themselves. I was forced to change the channel.

Scott Baio is Also a Douche
Chachi is back for a second season of "Scott Baio is 45 and..." to prove to the world yet again what an asshole he is (you know, in case you didn't figure that out from watching the first season).

Chachi has to be the only douche nugget alive to willingly star in a reality show that does nothing but reveal what a dipshit you are. This time around it looks like he's not only getting married (the horror!) but also, (gasp!) going to be a father! OMG, how can he possibly survive such a horrible fate?

There There Peyton...

2008-01-13T21:00:00.000-06:00

I know you're sad.

But I think I can make you feel better.

Call me.

Anthem This, Wankers!

2008-01-11T10:25:00.000-06:00

One of the first stores I hit when I arrived in London is my favorite music store, Fopp, near Seven Dials/Covent Garden. Fopp is a small UK chain and has a truly amazing selection of CDs, DVDs and books (that sadly almost went bankrupt earlier this year) and their Covent Garden location is tiny but filled with great shit.

They do a good job with their displays that make it easy to find and discover new music. When I was "living" in London a few years back I frequented the store a few times a week and pretty much any music I discovered when I was living there was thanks to Fopp. Also, most of the discs were between 3 and 6 pounds, which is cheaper than back in the States (discs from Fopp were about the only thing cheaper than back in the States, actually).

Anyway, this post isn't about Fopp as much as it is about the great compilation CDs you can buy in the UK, of which Fopp had a particularly good selection of. If the US sold compliation albums of the same quality, I have not seen them (but then again, I'm not in record stores much these days). Last week I picked up a few pretty solid ones - Radio 1, Soulwax's "2 Many DJs" and some others (I had to stop at 5 since I wouldn't be able to fit much more into my already full suitcase).

One gripe that I have about these and all the compilation CDs I've bought in the UK is the way they keep recycling some of the same music over and over. As much as I love Stereophonics (Kelly Jones - yum), I really don't need "Dakota" on Every. Single. Compliation CD I buy. Same with the La's "There She Goes" - the song is about 20 years old and it is time to give it a rest.

This gripe was exacerbated when I bought "The Anthems 07" thinking it would be a sort of "best of" the year double CD. I didn't lookcarefully enough at the song list until too late, but sure enough the album contains great songs from 2007 such as Pulp's "Common People", Cranberries' "Dreams", Travis' "Why Does It Always Rain on Me" and, yep, even "Dakota."

Makers of UK compilation CDs, I ask you: Is it too much to ask that a disc called "Anthems 07" actually has only songs that were released in 2007?

[This is a photo of the exterior of Fopp in London. So pretty, no?]

So You Can Get Caught Up

2008-01-09T13:49:00.000-06:00

Could not be bothered to blog much lately, so let me get you up to speed on some of the highlights the last few weeks...

Woke up on Christmas morning around 3am just in time to run to john and begin vomiting into the toilet (a ritual I repeated hourly through the morning). Yes, Santa gave me a flu bug for Xmas this year.
Got beer from my parents for Xmas. Seriously. They bought me beer.
Went to a Bulls game. This is significant because my whole life I'd never been to a Bulls game. Plus, I won some bottled water.
Had to sign up for an unplanned Chemistry course, potentially knocking back my whole nursing school roadmap back a semester.
Went ice skating in Millenium Park with Niner and LP. Although not a skater, I think I did OK.
After all my bitching, I got an A in Bio.
Went to London for New Years (a blog entry in itself).
Celebrated part of New Year's Eve in a pub with that actress from Bridget Jones Diary and one of the Harry Potter movies. Also, I wore a pretty gold tiara. (Photos forthcoming.) It is OK to be jealous.
Actually reversed a trend by losing weight over the holidays instead of gained (some thanks to #1 above). So at least I got that going for me.

Yay George Bush, Yay Global Warming

2008-01-07T15:42:00.000-06:00

So it is in the mid-60s today here in Chicago.
Allow me to point out that it is also January.

On a related note, George Bush is in town to talk about how awesome his "No Child Left Behind" program - which is 6-years old today as a matter of fact - is. He's also meeting with the mayor to discuss Chicago's snowball-in-hell chance of winning the 2016 Olympic Games.

I'll bet money that at some point today he'll make some kind of lame comment like: "My, it sure is warm here in the Windy City!" or "I thought it was supposed to be windy, not warm, here in Chicago!" and the notion that he's done absolute shit about trying to curb global warming will be totally lost on him.

Not that I'm complaining, really - I'm thinking about brining the ol' brown & pink reversable shorts out of storage to celebrate.

Happy 2008

2008-01-06T17:22:00.000-06:00

The [Cherry] Ride Players are back to recite my resolutions for 2008. I'm a few days late, so sue me.

(Click on the image to enlarge.)

Happy New Years, y'all.

I Resolve...

2007-12-31T00:00:00.000-06:00

I resolve to be a Man About Town singing all the lonely dirges of my youth.

[London at Night]

The Week Ahead

2007-12-16T12:25:00.000-06:00

School's out and I've got a short work week and lots of free time on my hands. Sure, I should probably buy some people some Christmas gifts. Maybe volunteer at a homeless shelter or something. Or mistletoeing. But pretty much all I'm looking forward to doing is planting my ass on the sofa and doing this:Seasons I and II. That's some Proper TV, bitches.

PS - I may have a little crush on Charlie, the "volatile loser who lives in filth and displays little ability to cope with day-to-day problems" (according to Wikipedia). Don't judge me.

Actual Comments Made By My Fellow Students in Human Biology Class

2007-12-13T08:43:00.000-06:00

To commemorate my last class (and the final exam) tonight, I thought I would share with you a list of actual comments and/or questions made by my classmates during the course of the semester. Believe me when I say I have not altered them in any way. Starting with the second class, I actually began writing these little nuggets down because I couldn't believe the crap I was hearing, and, well, I need something to entertain me during the 2.5 hour class twice a week. Enjoy - I certainly have.

(Pointing to a diagram of a human body): "We gotta learn all that for this class? Fuck that. I'm dropping this shit." (As a reminder, this class is called Human Biology, so not sure what this person thought we'd be doing.)
"I was told by somebody that if I go on a starvation diet I could actually do damage to my body. Is this true?"
"If you were to, like, create a Frankenstein monster, wouldn't the body reject the different body parts because they'd have different genes?"
"If somebody were to get liposuction, would the fat cells grow back?"
"Is that (type of cell) what causes bladder infections? 'Cuz I got a bladder infection and I don't know why."
"Buttered popcorn causes cancer."
"Is it true Janet Jackson had one of her ribs removed?"
"Wearing large clothing helps prevent Lyme Disease."
"If the menstral cycle is 28 days, then what happens during the other 2-3 days?"
"What is the best way to refrigerate or freeze the placenta?"
"Diarrhea is a diarrhetic."
"So I don't need to douche, then?"
"I think people who eat meat are disgusting."
"Can a 17-pound baby be delivered vaginally?"
(In a discussion about the anal cavity): "It's not natural to have something up there, like homosexuals do."

Now that class is over, I guess I will have to find something else to complain about. Until next semester begins, that is.

Open Letter to My Fellow Group Presenters (Part II)

2007-12-11T09:19:00.000-06:00

[Above is another photo representation of last week's group project. While ours looked nothing like this, there was definitely some face-hiding in shame, not unlike what is being acted out here. Also, I'm betting this group's presentation was probably more interesting than ours. I'll be the girl on the far right, who seems to be pretending she's not really there, kind of like I was by the time we were done.]

Hello Group.

Yeah, hi. Me again. Last week I gave you some pointers about how to be an effective and contributing member to group presentation project. You know, for the next time. I didn't want to overwhelm you with info so I thought it best to offer just a few tips at once, with the other half to come another time. Like today. Seriously, I do this as a favor to you, so that maybe you won't fucking fail the group you're in next semester. And, like the old couple who took my fucking seat over Thanksgiving, the next person you screw over for an A in class may not be as nice and forgiving as I am. So let's continue, shall we?:

So public speaking isn’t a strength. No big deal, it isn’t for most of us. We all get nervous. But remember when the teacher told us last month that points would be deducted if we read directly from our notes instead of simply speaking to the class and making eye contact? I’m pretty sure she wasn’t kidding. Again, we discussed this right? And we all said we were comfortable with our material. So for the next time, please for God’s sake DON’T READ DIRECTLY FROM YOUR NOTES FOR THE ENTIRE DURATION OF THE SPEECH.
If in the middle of our speech we realize we made a mistake, it is often OK to just continue on and not acknowledge to the class that we messed up. Doesn’t look so good for us. Chances are, the class stopped listening to what you were saying about 3 minutes into your seven-minute spiel. They didn’t even notice that you said “Canada” and not “Cuba" (its OK, I totally understand how you could get them confused). Honestly, you could have said “Thousands of new cases in my va-jay-jay” instead of “Thousands of new cases in Cuba” and they probably wouldn’t have caught it. For real: I saw one guy in the class haul out his laptop and check his Facebook while you were talking, for chrissakes.
Related to the above point, after we do make a mistake and feel some strange need to acknowledge it publically, resist the urge to turn around, look me in the eye and say to me – me! – “Oh. I just messed up.” While I am oddly flattered that you told me as though you thought I could actually do something about your flub, you’d be wrong. Perhaps you thought I’d break into an interpretive dance to somehow distract the class from your mistake? As cool as that might have been, I’m not that spontaneous. Bottom line: If you make a mistake, KEEP IT TO YOURSELF and MOVE ON.

That wasn't so bad, was it?

Good luck with finals!

PS - No, I am still not going to help you. You bitches are still on your own for that one.

I Love My Local Starbucks

2007-12-08T12:10:00.000-06:00

I'm sitting at my local Starbucks studying, and my table is (unfortunately) right next to the bathrooms. Not really studying, however, as I'm just not into it. I'm pretty much doing everything but studying - reading blogs, texting Niner about poon, talking to my parents (yeah, I'm that distracted), figuring out a shopping list for Target. I've been here about an hour and have only read about 2 pages. Can someone tell me what the hell "Because homologous chromosomes may possess different alleles for the same traits, and there are many genes on one chromosome, the homologues are usually not identical" means?

And if so, will you take my final exam for me?

Anyway, awhile ago a young woman went into the bathroom. About 10 minutes after that, her boyfriend knocked on the bathroom door and asked what she was doing. In a really loud voice she responded:"I'M TAKING A SHIT, OKAY??" Classy. So very.

15 minutes later she's still not coming out of the bathroom and suddenly there's two cops banging on the door demanding she come out. I ask you: I bet this shit doesn't happen at your local Starbucks, does it?

Now the two cops are questioning both the girl and her boyfriend outside the store. Apparently, there may be some drug usage involved (ya think?).

Open Letter to My Fellow Group Presenters (Part I)

2007-12-07T08:42:00.000-06:00

[This photo sorta represents what our group looked like on Tuesday during our group presentation. Except we weren't as organized as these folks were. Nor did we look as excited. Or Asian. I'd like to think of myself as the fat one, third from left, in this scenario.]

Hello Group:

I realize this letter is a little late in coming, since our Group Presentation was on Tuesday and all. But who at that time would have thought it would have turned into such a disaster? - certainly not me.

Considering we've had about 3 weeks to prepare and that we've met a few times to go over our roles, responsibilities and what we would say, I guess I was a little taken aback by how, well, ill-equipped and unprepared we seemed to be. I imagine that the audience may have seen us as "nervous" or "disjointed" or maybe even "a bunch of douche nuggets."

And note that I say we here -- after all, there's no "I" in "team" and all that bullshit, and we're in this together. When one of us does good, we all do good. When one of us can't pronounce certain simple anti-TB drug mediations, because, well, Monday was a particularly good episode of "CSI: Miami" then, well, I guess we all can't pronounce certain anti-TB drug medications, right?

And I know we're all a little busy, particularly now that we have to study especially hard for next week's final (where before Tuesday I was hoping I merely just had to study "all regular-like" - so thanks for that, btw), so I'll make this rather quick. Here's a partial list (I'll send the other one next week) of some things that maybe you could keep in mind next time you are in a position to be a successful, contributing member of a group presentation:

If you volunteer in advance to be the person responsible for printing 30 copies of the slide deck to use as class handouts, then please God by all-that-is-holy DO IT. Don't show up to class empty-handed saying that you “got too busy at work to print them out" and that "it won't be a big deal anyway." Couple things: Yes, it actually IS A BIG DEAL that we don't have handouts. It makes us look UNPREPARED and gives us a big fat zero on the teacher’s evaluation sheet under the section called – oddly enough - “Handouts.” Secondly, don’t give us that whole “I’m really busy with work” bullshit excuse. What the hell do you think the rest of us do all day? So help me, I’ll shove my weekly “MBD SaaS and Business Intelligence Report” draft right up your ass if you tell me again how busy you are at work.

PS – I actually did spend some time and thought in making the presentation and handouts look pretty. I probably wouldn’t have spent so much time on it had I known that you weren’t going to bother printing them off. Even though we agreed you would. But that’s water under the bridge. Let’s move on.

Related to point #1, if you are assigned a specific task and find that for whatever reason you cannot do it, it is acceptable and even welcome to PICK UP THE PHONE AND TELL SOMEONE. We know you have a cell phone; we've seen you use it to talk to your friends during lecture (since we're on it: there's something called "indoor voice" btw). I passed about 3 Kinko’s on the way into class Tuesday. I could’ve made some handouts. Not a big deal.
As you know, we had 12 minutes to give our entire presentation. We discussed this, right? Several times? We also discussed structuring the presentation so that each of us was to speak for about 3 minutes. 3 minutes x 4 people = 12 minutes. So I’m still scratching my head to figure out why some of us spoke for seven minutes. Seven minutes! – that would be more than double the allotted time per person. The only thing I can think of as to why this would have happened would be perhaps you – I mean we - didn’t rehearse ahead of time. So here’s a tip: REHEARSE IN ADVANCE. We might be surprised at what we learn. Like, maybe, “Gee my section of the presentation is waaaaay too long.” Considering we also get points taken off our grade if our presentation goes over the allotted time, this is something we all may want to keep in mind next time.

I’d say that should about cover it for the moment. I've got a few more pearls of wisdom to share, but I'll wait until next week for those, since it might take you a little while to just digest these. Thanks for listening, y’all.

PS - Good luck on the final. And I mean that.

PPS - And No. Sorry, I will not help you study - you bitches are on your own on that one.