Thin Ice

So yesterday I get a voice mail from work. I'm chillin' on the couch waiting for my brother and his wife to come over for a night of cheap wine and board games and I get this voice mail. Apparently I was scheduled to work! For the second Wednesday in a row, I get called into work when I'd written down my 'holiday' schedule and nowhere on it, when it was originally posted, was I scheduled for Wednesdays. I never work Wednesdays! I know some of the schedules were revised after the death of my co-worker, but my schedule didn't appear to change at the time. When I ask if the schedule had been changed again I get the run around. Other people too have been upset about the schedule being silently updated. The fact that I'm not being reprimanded for showing up late to work leads me to believe that the management realizes they've handled the scheduling wrong. Who knows, I could show today and get written up.

The thing that bothers me is that I'm a reliable employee, usually. I'm flexible, cooperative, prepared, and always punctual! The last thing I need is to lose this job do to a stupid misunderstanding.

I Started This Blog For Selfish Reasons

I did. I can admit it.

I don't have anything political or overwhelmingly important to say. I am not a very political person, or, I guess an overwhelmingly important one.

I have no idea how to fix the world or make sure our next president isn't a jack ass. (Hey, that bordered on political, didn't it?)

I haven't gotten off my couch long enough to finish my 'literary masterpiece' much less discover the meaning of life.

I'm pretty sure that I've stolen the majority of my original thoughts from somewhere else, but I just can't recollect where.

No. I started this blog so my family and friends could check in with me at their convenience. Haven't heard from me in a while? Check out my blog. It's great. None of it's too personal. Some of it's even slightly amusing. Hell, I even hoped that some of the people I use to know would somehow stumble upon my Fortess of Ineptitude.

Well, recently a childhood friend of mine did just that. We were partners in crime for many years even though his family moved away early on. Summer vacations were never complete without an exchange program which blessed both of our families with our combined unbridled, creative rowdiness. We drifted apart, cause that happens and I can't remember the last time I saw this friend. Then he 'googled me and next thing you know he's reading my random thoughts.

Welcome Mr. Schnettler. Good to hear from you.

Oh, I also started blogging so I would feel like I was writing something when I just can't work on my scripts. See? Selfish.

Few Things...

Are as difficult as trying to help a little, old, asian woman figure out how to use her Illinois Link Card at an ATM. It probably wouldn't have been so bad if she spoke more english than just, "Please", but she didn't. She kept babbling on to me and pointing at her cards, then to the teller machine, then back to her cards. I tried valiantly to assist her, another passerby even stopped to try and figure it out. We couldn't. I apologized, bid her farewell, and started to walk away.

When I got to the street corner I looked back and the lady was flagging down another pedestrian; gesturing wildly to the ATM and rapidly firing off 'pleases'! I hope he had better luck.

Long Time No See

Today, whilst braving the bitter cold, the crowds, and the last few days of shopping left, I bumped into an old friend whom I have not seen in a while. Several years ago when my mother was diagnosed with Cancer, well, so was this friend's father. We've always understood what the other was going through. She always asks about my mother, and I always ask about her Dad. (Both are doing well.) It's been a rough year for my friend in many respects but she keeps on motoring through. She smiles, while reflecting on the pain, and loss. It's not always easy to smile...
I hope her New Year is a good one.

Season's Greetings!

Ooooooooh! Holiday Party tonight! Raffle tickets, bad DJ, and co-workers shakin' their moneymakers! Oh yeah, I tried to break up a fight and took a right hook to the face! Yay me! "Merry F-in' What The Hell? Settle Down! Settle Down! Oh, I'm bleeding!"

Every Now & Then

I have nothing to say. Yet life goes on. The dishes pile up. The brown hairs suddenly turn grey. The metabolism slows to a crawl. Friends drift in & out of your life. The days blur into weeks. The temporary job becomes less tempoary, and a 23 year old bimbo says, "We're so old. When we were in college..."

Preachy Me!

I don't mean to jump on top of my soap box today, but have you ever worried so much about what others think of you that you forget who you're living your life for?

How about you, Mr. Persian Turtle?

Sometimes...

...Others have already expressed what I wish to say.

"Fool! I mean not That poor-souled piece of heroism, self-slaughter; Oh no! the miserablest day we live There's many a better thing to do than die!"
- George Darley

I found out tonight that a co-worker of mine, a friend, committed suicide. In my life several people, whom I have known, have chosen this route. While I will always mourn the loss, and regret the finality I have a hard time accepting the selfishness. (If this offends you, I am sorry.) Whether you are a husband with legal woes, an adolescent struggling with puberty, a lover wrestling with self-hatred, or a friend whom 'I had no idea'... think about those you claim to love. When you end it, they still suffer.

My Dear Guest...

"Welcome To Fantasy Island."

Really! ME TV (Check Your Local Listings) actually reruns Fantasy Island. It's unbelievable. It's like I went on vacation to an exotic, tropical island and fantasized about fulfilling one of my life-long dreams only to have an ironic twist shoved up my butt by Ricardo Montalban and and a raspy little midget in a white suit!

This particular episode guest starred Gary Bergoff, better known as 'Radar' from M.A.S.H, as a man who wished to fulfill his fantasy of pitching to the best players in Major League Baseball. His Wife doesn't really know about his fantasy, and guest spots by Tommy Lasorda and other big name ball players of the time make the cheesy story line. He strikes out 3 of the best players and then quits his job for a chance at the 'show' only to have his hopes dashed by Mr. Roarke.

The second story was about a middle-aged couple who wished to escape their lives and exist in a simpler time. Apparently Fantasy Island, among all it's exotic locals, also boasts a small puritanical town of, well, Puritans who live life as they would've in Salem, Massachusetts. The villian, Leslie Nielsen, rules with an iron fist and eventually accuses the newcomers of witchcraft for giving a child aspirin. The couple narrowly escape with their lives and Leslie Nilesen goes on to bless the world with the Naked Gun Series but, WOW, what a close call.

The best part of the whole episode was during the game where 'Radar' pitches in an impromptu All-Star game. Mr. Roarke and Tatoo sit in the bleachers and watch the wacky goings on. Herve Villechaize... Tattoo... Surly Midget In A White Suit... "Da Plane! Da Plane!"... is wearing a San Fransisco Giants cap. Midget? Giants? Talk about Irony!

Too Funny

Here's a link to a really humorous post on my friends blog that I somehow missed until today.

http://seussisontheloose.blogspot.com/2005/11/some-random-facts-about.html

Chuck Norris Rocks!

Home Sweet... Aw, Crap!

greeted by freezing wind & snow flurries
a gray sky
gloomy days
silence

back there?
63 degrees
sunshine
warm hugs & caring words
a small child laughing

What Kind Of Fish Is That?

"It's one of those 'blowed up' fishes. Look ain't it one of those blowed up fishes? It looks like it's all blowed up. Look boys, a real live 'blowed up' fish."

Apparently the National Aquarium in Baltimore was unaware of their own mistake in identifying one of their exibits. The Northern Puffer Fish is actually a 'blowed up' fish, despite what a few clearly marked and visible signs may declare . Just so you know.

R.I.P Miyagi San!

It truly is a sad day... Pat Morita is dead.

Happy Turkey Day!!!!

Chilling on the East Coast, eating too much, drinking at a good pace, wrestling with the nephew, watching some football as the waves roll by. Hope you and yours are having a good day, too.

Might be time for a cold turkey sandwich! Mmmmmmmmmmmmm!

"Mother Embarrasses Teenage Daughter"

http://aolsvc.news.aol.com/news/article.adp?id=20051116141509990001

So, apparently, this mother in Oklahoma got fed up with her daughter's slipping grades, and behavior in school. She decided to do something to try and turn her daughter around. She made her daughter stand on a street corner wearing a sign that read: "I don't do my homework, and I act up in school, so my parents are preparing me for my future. Will work for food."

Some witnesses were horrified, one motorist even reported psychological abuse, while others applauded the mother's ingenuity.

The girl was completely embarrassed, and has started doing her homework.

Big Deal! That's what parents are for! I can't tell you how many times my mother shamed me as a teenager, whether it was the time she left out a 'Delayed Puberty' article for me to read and my older brother found it, or the countless times she told horrific, personal childhood stories to the girls in my youth group. When you're a teenager everything you parents do has the potential to send you running from the room screaming, "I hate you! I hate you! I can't believe you would do this to me! When I have kids I'll never treat them this way! I can't wait for the day when I can leave this house and never come back. You'll be sorry!"

When I think of all the signs my mother never hung on me, I breathe sigh of relief. I can just see myself standing of to the side of the Baltimore/ Washington Parkway with a posterboard that reads, 'I doodle in my notebook, fall asleep in class, read comic books instead of Twain, spend hours upon hours in the bathroom 'getting to know myself', and I talk back to my parents. I'm a teenager.'

And for all the people who are angered by this mother's actions... relax! There's worse things in this world than a mother who worries about her daughter's wellbeing. I think if anyone should be upset it's those people with the 'Will Work For Food' Signs who always did there homework, and were model students when they were in school. What about them, huh?

Another Round?

kitten on your hip-

kitten above each artificial knocker-

chinese letters scrawled horizontally across your mystic tanned shoulders-

2 names on your fore arms ( your daughters)-

floral print bikini and a less than pleasant persona

'Triple D Team Reporting For Duty'

What are your drink specials?

Sometimes...

I miss home...



My girlfriend brought this home from some function at work. The Maryland flag, some Black-Eyed Susans, and a can of Old Bay seasoning. She saw the centerpiece and knew that it would make me smile. It does.

Funkedy Funk Funk!

I'm waiting. Waiting for what? Good question.

Several weeks ago I submitted several scripts to various theatre companies, and writing contests. Now there is nothing to do but wait and see what happens. Some of the contests might take months to notify me, and some of the theatre companies probably won't ever let me know what they thought of my writing. So what am I waiting for?

Idiots!

"Hey, why don't we go out with 15 of our closest friends for dinner and, wouldn't it be great if no one bothered to bring cash?"

"Can you split the check 9 ways?"

"We need $90 on this card... $90 on this card... $30 on these 3 cards and $17.95 on this Discover..."

"What do you mean you don't have Corona? Aren't you a Mexican restaurant? Spanish Restaurant... Oh... what's the difference? Oh... I see... do you have Chips & Salsa?"

Hmmmm?

So I'm walking home from work with a six-pack in my bag, and 2 guys with Jews For Jesus T-shirts hand me a flyer, which I absentmindedly take, and say, "Jesus loves you, brother!"

I reply, "Jesus? Can't say I know the guy. I do know a couple of Jesuses* ... They work with me. My homies!"

I couldn't help but wonder... Is there, somewhere out there in this crazy world, someone with a Jews For Jesus T-Shirt.

*I'm not sure what the plural form of Jesus is. For that matter, what is the plural of Jesus? Is it like fungus which becomes fungi? Would I say, 'I do know a couple of Jesi? These are the thoughts that keep me up at night.

A Bad Rap

Why does the word 'Soupy' have such a negative connotation? I don't get it. If something is said to be 'Soupy' it just means that it has the consistency of soup, characteristics of soup, or appears to be Soup-Like. What's wrong with that?

I like soup... I love soups... All kinds... Brothy... Chunky... Creamy... Canned...

Sometimes there is nothing more satisfying than a big bowl of piping hot soup, and a sleeve full of crackers! It seems unfair to me that 'Soupy' has become such a villainous term. How very cruel.

I wonder how many other words out there have been similarly besmirched, and cheapened by narrow-minded consumers. (How great a word is 'Besmirched' though?)

Some 'Splaining To Do!

Strangely enough there was a Lucille Ball siting at a holiday party. No wonder Ricky liked playing those bongos! Wowza!

Trick Or Treat!

Mr. Britney Spears wows a local Chicago Bar with his musical talent. (Maybe talent is too strong a word but, that guy dance!)

Q: Which is worse? A clueless taskmaster who comes out of his office once every so often to bark completely ridiculous orders? Or A condescending busy-body who can't help but alienate the entire staff?

A: Combine the two

I don't get it...

The White Sox won the World Series... Great! Good for the White Sox! For those of you that don't live in Chicago, I doubt that you have been as over-saturated with Sox Propaganda as us. It's been ridiculous. Every news broadcast has been the same. They start out with a ten minute barrage of stories relating to baseball, the Sox, or the World Series. They talk about curses, sweeps, fans, celebration, the works! Then it comes...

In Other News...

The missing ISU student is still missing. Hurricane Wilma slams across Florida leaving 10 dead, and thousands reeling from her devastating impact. Saddam Hussein's on trial for war crimes. Up later, our 5 day forecast. Will the Sox get a surprise from Mother Nature? Now, let's go live to Chett Childers on the city's SouthSide for a report on White Sox T Shirt sales that should prove to be extremely time consuming, and irrelevant.

No joke. Chicago has become the place where news reports come to die and be replaced by promo shots of 'Life Long Socks' fans talking about brooms! Hopefully, all the ruckus will die down soon, and I'll be able to tune into a news broadcast and actually hear some news.

There's something so wonderful about sticky fingers that smell of pumpkin.

Can't Help Loving That Peck O Mine!

For those of you who may have stumbled upon this blog, and for the handful of people, and family who regularly check up on me... may I introduce a new blog by one of my favorite people in the world: PECK!

www.pecktastic.blogspot.com

----------------------------------------------------

He's just starting out, so bear with him but I assure you, if anyone has an interesting take on life or something remotely interesting to say, well, Peck might know that person!

In The Service Industry...

Sometimes it is better to go ahead and say the first sarcastic thing that pops into your head.

Get It Out!

Otherwise you might spit on someone.

It's a long road...

Today, on my day off, I submitted 3... count'em, 3 seperate scripts to various theatre companies. 1 was sent to a local theatre company who advertised interest in one-act plays. The 2nd was sent to a ten minute play contest based in Louisville. The last was mailed to a theatre in Alexandria, VA who is accepting scripts for their 27th Annual playwriting contest.

Who knows if any of my scripts will get the reception that I hope for, let alone a production, but at least I'm still putting myself out there. I'll keep plugging away on my writings; revisions on top of revisions not to mention the incomplete scripts that I'm constantly striving to finish. Soon enough I'll find myself where I need to be...

I've Often Wondered...

Did you ever notice in the movie Stand By Me that when the boys come to the bridge and Vern asks, "Any of you guys know when the next train is due?"... instead of walking 5 miles down river to another bridge and 5 miles back, they choose to cross the railroad bridge and then have to out run the oncoming locomotive and barely avoid a nasty, bloody end... so why didn't anyone say, "Hey, Gordie or Chris Or Vern Or Teddy, why don't we just hang out and wait for the next train? After it passes then we'll go across. How's that for logic?" Hmmmm?

Maybe it wouldn't be as dramatic but at least Vern wouldn't have lost his comb!

WTF?

http://articles.news.aol.com/news/article.adp?id=20051011095909990006

I repeat: WTF?

Bear Farming? Bear Farming? I never saw this booth at my college job fairs!

This dude, this Han Shigan, was attacked, killed and then eaten by the black bears that he had been raising for their bile. Am I the only one who didn't know that there were farmers, mostly in China, who raised bears to tap their stomach bile? They use bear bile as a cure all!

Has Alka-Seltzer lost its charm? Tylenol not really doing the trick anymore? "Honey, my cataract's acting up again! Break out the tub of Bear Bile!"

Wasting My Day

What should I do?
Should I do the laundry?
Should I clean the kitchen?
The bathroom?
Should I start another book?
Maybe I should send away those scripts I've been working on...
Or should I finish the other, the one about timing that I never seem to be able to end?
Or the other one or the other one or the other one?
Then again I could just put off everything until I have to go to work, and then spend the whole night kicking myself for not having accomplished anything today -
Again

In The Interest Of Fair Play

You were out! OUT! O! U! T!

I hate to be the kill joy here for any Sox fans... I'm not even a baseball fan, or a sports enthusiast but Holy Crap what a bad call!

I hope that BJ you gave the Ump before the game was worth it!

What A Bunch Of Jerks

Today as I was enjoying a plate of Banger's & Mash at a local Irish Pub I happened to glance at the Police Beat of a local free paper: Inside. The Police Beat always covers robberies, arson, assaults, and various other arrests.

I almost choked on my lunch! I guess they don't make criminals like they used to.

http://www.insideonline.com/site/epage/4444_162.htm

Go to the 23rd and 18th District (Half Way Down The Page) and read the post about 12 Men in 14 Days. I can only imagine the shame of being put in the lock up and having to explain to the murderers, thieves and violent offenders that you were busted for 'Spanking It' on the street corner!

A Sign?

So I took a Taxi home from work tonight, after having a few beers with a few of my co-workers. As I stepped from the cab I turned back and examined the backseat for anything I might've dropped.

Oh there's a quarter... No, it isn't. It's a little medal medallion with an angel carved on it. For someone who isn't very religious or even spiritual it made me smile. Perhaps I do believe in something greater than myself...

Sometimes I just need proof.

Word Of The Day

This 'Word of the Day' is brought to you by the Chicago Transit Authority; causing commute distress and vocational tardiness for longer than anyone can remember!

Alight - verb; to come down from something (as a vehicle)

Today, as I was on the train going to work the train driver made the following announcement, "Attention Customers, this is a southbound Brown Line Train towards the Loop. This train will not stop at Wellington or Diversey. I repeat, this Brown Line Train will not be stoppping at the Wellington or Diversey stationed. The next stop will be Fullerton. Passengers wishing to alight at the Wellington or Diversey stop must first switch to a northbound train at Fullerton, and then alight at your desired stop."

She made the announcment four or five times and each time used the word alight at least two, sometimes three times. I found myself wondering if she had turned her Vocabulary Building Calendar to 'alight' and was determined to use the word as much as possible in the following 24 hrs.

Uptown!

The Uptown that belongs to Nick!

When did I last grace it's classless walls?

Back in the day that's where I roamed... on the hunt.

Nowadays I pop in play darts with my brother and walk home, wishing for a good nights sleep.

Oh, Nicky No! Don't... Why?

Nicolas Cage and his wife, Alice Kim, welcomed their first child into the world this week. The couple chose to name the boy Kal-El Coppolla Cage...

KAL-EL! Kal-El? (Superman's Kryptonian Name)

Why don't you just slap a 'kick me' sign on his back, hike up his pants, breast feed him until fifth grade, and instill in him a love of insect larvae? This kid's heading for years and years of torment! Those kindergarteners are going to eat him alive! Not only will he have to suffer through countless calls of, "Snap Out Of It!" & "Your father was in Con-Air" but now he's been named after Superman by a man who, allegedly, was supposed to star in a Superman movie but then got passed over for some no-name actor who looks good in a tight suit. That kid is going to be a social leper! A poor Kal-El...

In a related story Jared, The Subway Guy, has, reportedly, announced that his next child shall be named 'Apple Inspektor Coco Subway Guy.

Hmmmm?

He offered me a job.

Said he could use someone just like me.

Handed me his card and said to let him know. There'd be a job waiting for me at his bar.

The address read:

22 Cumberland Street, Toronto Ontario M4w 1J5

Hablas Japanese, Guey?

So I'm sitting at the sushi bar, enjoying my $1 sushi when two ladies meet for lunch and sit several chairs away. I eavesdropped! I'll admit it. I was minding my own business when the younger of the two announced that she was probably moving out, and leaving her boyfriend.

"Things have changed. Somewhere we lost it. Blah blah blah!"

Anyway, I'll spare you the boring, and oh so very common details, and skip ahead a little. The older lady was trying her best to help out, offer advice, psychoanalyse the boyfriend, etc. She couldn't stop offering her inept wisdom, and cliches.

Then a newcomer, a stranger, sits between us and starts talking to the Mexican Sushi Chef in Spanish. He's a regular and wants his rice on the side in one ball, and the fish sashimi style. Oh, and he doesn't believe in chopsticks, because he lived in Japan and, word is, they don't use them. The older lady hears him say something about Japan and questions him about it.

"So you lived in Japan?"

"Yes, for a while."

"So you're an expert?"

"I would say that."

"Well you certainly seem to have mastered the language. I heard you talking to that man."

????????????????????? What? What are you talking about?

He was speaking Spanish to the Mexican Sushi Chef! Spanish! Not Japanese! Who confuses the two languages, much less mistakes a Latino for Japanese just because he's rolling a spicy tuna roll. I wondered if she would have accidentally confused a Japanese man in a sombrero for a Mexican Caballero!

The newcomer just, politely, said, "Oh, I'm Latin American. We were speaking Spanish."

The lady didn't even flinch and said, "I've always wanted to go to Japan."

I almost laughed wasabi out through my nose!

Shuffle Board!

On my way from work tonight I got a phone call from my brother and his wife on their way to a bar that they could not locate without my assistance. 1/2 hour later we're all enjoying the import special and chilling, catching up, etc.

The big news? I beat my brother in the shuffle board game there.

Now, for those of you that don't know both of my brothers are extremely competitive! 1/2 of the time I can beat them at One on One, Darts, Horseshoes, Pool, or even Shuffle board,and any other game you can think of just because they get so wrapped up in it and I couldn't give a shit! Tonight I beat my baby brother at shuffle board (I whooped him good!) and I'm totally chill with the fact except that I know soon he'll read this post and grit his teeth and force me to go back to the bar for a rematch!

This One Time...

I got a call from a director who was in charge of a one act play I had written for a festival. He loved the script that I had written in a under a week. He only had one question. It was about a line of dialogue. One of the characters went on a little rant about religion, family, and warped priorities. The other character replied:

*

The Other Character

Boy, that's a mouthful.

*

He thought that there must be something better, more direct, or even more significant that the other character could say. I agreed. I told him that the 'mouthful' line was just me laughing at my own bulky, heavy handed speech on religion. I told him to have the character say whatever the actress felt like coming up with. He didn't really get it. There was nothing for him to get, I just realized that the moment I had written wasn't perfect and, for once, I allowed someone else to appreciate and possibly contribute to an imperfection of mine.

Money For Nothing

"I Should Have Learned To Play The Guitar!

I should Have Learned To Play Them Drums!'

Yesterday, as we were walking out of a little coffee shop around the corner, I happened to bump into an old work buddy. I used to work at a crappy little coffee shop, no not that crappy little coffee shop, well, okay, so I've worked at a few coffee shops. (Get a theatre degree. It helps!) We always see each other around the neighborhood. While I doubt we'll ever be anything more than just old work buddies I think he's a cool kid.

Anyway, this old work buddy would leave the job from time to time and go on the road with his band. I think he plays bass. I've never actually heard his band. A few months ago I bumped into him at a neighborhood bar after his band had played The Metro. We chatted for awhile, and it turns out he had just returned from touring Australia. Australia! How bad ass is that. I asked, "Are you still at the crappy little coffee shop?" And he drops the Australia news.

I was envious!

So we start chatting... Dude is leaving for Japan in a couple weeks for a 'mini' tour. Japan!

Why didn't I try and get into the music biz?

Okay, there was that one time in fifth grade when my brother and I, were going to start a band with the Colton Brothers. None of us played any instruments, well actually, I'd had 2 years of the trombone, (Chicks love a brass man!) but we were determined to Rock N Roll! We lip-synched songs from Motley Crue, Poison, White Snake, even Europe. We even had some kick ass names picked out. Dreadnoughts of Rock! Scott & The Demon Spawn! Psoriasis! Who knows? If we'd stuck with it, bought instruments, taken music lessons, put time in the studio, and survived at least one major addiction maybe, just maybe I'd be going on tour. Psoriasis would sweep across the nations of the world like a really stinky fart, the kind that gets into your bed sheets and lingers for days! Oh, yes we would've been Awesome!

Too Much!!!

Hey, what can you do? It happens. You decide to stay in and save a little money, play some games, socialize with family

BOOM

next thing you know you're stumbling out of bed, getting ready for work, and your head is pounding, your mouth dry, your balance is off, and you feel like up chucking every time you take a step! The last thing you want to do is bartend!

"How are you today?"

"I'm so hungover I'm cross-eyed! Look I can't straighten my eyes."

"That's nice. Can I have a Passion Fruit Sangria, a Margarita, and an order of the Chicken Curry Salad. Oh, and the grilled octopus! How's the octopus?"

"BLLLLLEEEEECCCCCHHHHHH!" (That's the sound of misery. The chunky, warm kind.)

It'll be quite awhile before I split 5 bottles of wine with you people again! I think I heard my liver disintegrate!

Romance

In order to love simply, it is necessary to know how to show love.

-- Fyodor Dostoyevsky

It takes two to make a thing go right It takes two to make it outta sight. Hit It!

-- Rob Base

Sometimes...

I feel like life is taunting me.

Teasing me.

Testing me.
Sometimes I feel like life is poking me with a stick trying to see how much I'll take before I turn around and spit a big globby loogie right in its pus!

Sometimes I wish I had the nerve!

Do you remember when, as a child, if you were feeling down you'd just run right out and play make believe? Your siblings were being a pain in the butt so you'd go out in the back yard, tie a beach towel around your neck and save the world from the evil forces of evil...ness? You got a two Cs on your report card, one for behavior and the other for handwriting, so you'd break out the wooden blocks and build an entire city to drive your Hot Wheels through? If it rained for a week straight, and your best friend was on vacation in Florida you'd strip all of the cushions off of your sofa and build a fort in your living room and read SpiderMan comics until dinnertime? Remember being a kid and being able to get away from it all with just a little smidgen of imagination?

Now if you want to get away as adult what are your options? Cheap liquor, posting on your blog, and reality television?

Sometimes I wish I could travel through time, fly through the clouds, and wrestle with trolls just like I did when I was young.

Reflecting On Good Times

This past weekend I had the pleasure of hosting my mom, and my aunt for a few days. They were in town for a convention that just so happened to fall around my cousin's 40th birthday. It was a fun few days.

We dined out. Played some boggle. Hit a few bars. Visited with family. Shared more than a few laughs. Obviously, we also saw The Bean. I thought these pics were kinda fun. (Pictured are my aunt, my mom, my brother, and my sister-in-law.)

1st Thing This Morning...

Well, to be honest, the first thing I did this morning was take a leak. We all know how bad it is for your body to hold it in after a night's sleep.

After that, however, I got online and IM'd a buddy of mine who is teaching English in Japan. Japan! Sometimes I still get excited about technology. It's been 6 months since I've seen this guy, and it'll be June before I see him again, so it was good to just chat for a while. I was just waking up, and he was going to bed and we caught up with each other briefly over the internet.

I really admire his get up and go to the other side of the world mentality. He loves Japan. He loves everything about it. He's having a grand old time! (Good for you, KD!)

Productivity

Today I brushed off 2 different one act play scripts. 1 of them I even submitted to a fairly new, local theatre company. The other 1 I will be sending off to a theatre company in VA. Both are completely different premises, writing styles, and lengths but I am extremely proud of the work that I've put into them. I hope that they are well received.

It's occurred to me recently that as I sit around and complain about the lack of momentum in my career, my incomplete scripts, and the fact that I have to wait tables to pay the bills nothing is happening to change my current situation. I haven't actually submitted in quite a while and in the meantime I stew over a rejection that I received months ago. So it looks like it's time I started putting myself out there again and actively seek production/ publication of my work.

I will keep you updated.

I Have A Question.

So I got sucked into, yet another, paternity test battle on The Maury Show. It's so pathetic but I sit there, holding my breath, waiting for the test results. Maybe he is the father, maybe he isn't, but I have no doubt that he'll be as classy as the mother.

Then it happened...

The woman actually said, "Why don't you axe him?"

Just once I would like Maury to reply, "Axe him? You want someone to axe him, the man you had a baby with who was already married? That's the guy you want axed? I'm sorry we cannot axe him because that would be homicide, and as we all know that would be wrong. Axing someone should always be the last resort."

How hard is it? The word 'ask' has 3 letters. A. S. K. Is it that hard to keep 3 letters in order and pronounce it right? It's not a difficult word like 'nuclear'. Ask. It's seems simple enough, but I guess if you're on The Maury Show for your 5th paternity test you might not have the time to brush up on your pronunciation.

Another Saturday Brunch

"Oh My Goodness, what is all of this?" asks the woman standing beneath the Bloody Mary Bar sign.

"What is all what?" I ask.

"All this. What is it?"

Somehow I refrain from pointing to the sign above her head and I pleasantly answer, "It's a Bloody Mary Bar."

"A Bloody Mary Bar?"

"That's right."

"How does it work? You mean you make your own bloody Mary's?"

"Yes,"

"How?"

"I give you a glass with vodka and you mix your own drink," I explain calmly.

"Really?"

"Really."

"That is so cool! What a novel idea! It's like a stroke of food genius!"

In my head I reply, "What are you, retarded? It's a Bloody Mary Bar, not a cure for Cancer! Every other bar in the civilized world has one, you moron! Hey, stroke my food, genius?"

In actuality I said, "Pretty neat, huh?"

Then the stupid woman and her stupid friend wandered around the restaurant, they were only there to use the restroom, before finally settling at the bar. While sitting at my bar she asked me for a sample of a draft beer, a sample of a sangria, then asked me the price of 10 different beers, liquors, and sangrias, all while holding a menu. She finally ordered sangria, her stupid friend only wanted water. Then she says, "I really love that drink bar thing."

10 Hours Away.

Sometimes all you want to do is get away from it all. Wouldn't it be nice to just get out of town for a bit? Take a break? Go on holiday?

That's exactly what we decided to do. With nothing to do on such a sunny Tuesday afternoon, we were both off from work, we chose to take a little vacation. So with the aid of our trusty 7 Day Passes we boarded the Red Line heading north, transferred to the Purple Line and stepped off of the train into beautiful downtown Evanston. Not the most exotic of locales, I'll grant you, but it was just what the doctor ordered. We had a great time strolling the streets, sitting in the park, and soaking up the local vibe. We had lunch, shopped a little, stayed for dinner and then drinks afterwards. 10 hours later we boarded the train heading back to the city with a bag full of goodies, and a smile on our faces; deliriously happy. (Of course that could have been the beer.)

R U Down?

I got the keys!

Why Not?

Christian Bale doesn't return my calls!

More Than I Could Chew!

Well, the deadline for the 3-Day Novel contest has passed, and regrettably I didn't make it. My hat's off to anyone who was able to write their manuscript in the allotted time. I cannot imagine how they did it.

Who knows? Perhaps if I had more than a day and a half's preparation. Perhaps if I had known about the contest far enough in advance to really map out a story, outline, and follow through. Perhaps if I'd had more than just the premise, and a vague idea of where the story would go. Perhaps if I hadn't worked for two shifts smack dab in the middle of the contest, but I don't want to make excuses.

It was hard. Sometimes the pages would just words would just fly out of me, and the pages would start to pile up. Other times I would stare at the screen and hardly be able to connect enough sentences to make a paragraph. If the average manuscript submitted is 100 pages, than I could not possibly turn mine in for consideration because I didn't even get half way there. I'm sure my story will, eventually, make it to 100 pages or more, but as of right now the story isn't completed.

That's the silver lining. Sure, I didn't finish my manuscript, and I am disappointed, but the upside is I did write around 40 pages of a story. 40 pages is nothing to sneeze at; over a weekend. I also realized that if I give myself realistic deadlines, which I never do, I could possibly finish a project or two.

I have 3 Screen plays, and 6 plays laying around in various states of completion, in addition, to 4 scripts that are complete that I don't know what to do with, and now I have 40 pages of a novel. Looks like I need to get on the ball and start pushing to get my work out there, produced and hopefully published. I sure don't want to wait tables for the rest of my life.

Happy B-Day, Z!

Sorry, I couldn't make your celebration. (Don't look so angry.) I couldn't get off of work.

I'm sure you guys took over the joint and partied like the Rock Stars that you aspire to be. I hope you had a good time and that you'll enjoy being 30.

A Word Of Advice!

Never ever go into a restaurant if they happen to be closing in 5 or 10 minutes, and God help you if you try to get a table after close. You automatically become an asshole. The servers don't like you. The busboys don't like you. The bartenders don't like you. The kitchen staff really doesn't like you and why should they? The kitchen staff has started cleaning, and breaking things down a half hour earlier; so has the bartender. The servers need to make money... true, but with five minutes left in a shift all that server can think about is getting the hell out of ther restaurant and going home to their significant other, or going out drinking.

"It's okay. I tip really well, " you say.

Great, that's 10 or 20 more dollars that the server will have in his pocket, oh no, but wait, that's potentially $100 or $200 that that server has to tip out on at the end of the night.

Listen to me, your service will be blah. The food, more than likely will be blah. The staff will be glaring at you, or cleaning up around you. Even if you tip well and think you're being 'cool' with your server they still don't like you. They might say something like, "The tipped me 25% so it wasn't that bad." It was still bad though, because your dumbass kept them their longer than they should have been there.

P.S: If a waitstaff is so amazingly nice and courteous to you even though you came in late and sat for an hour and a half after close... I'd check my burger for pubes, and I'd be willing to bet someone spit in your lasagna!

SCREW This Brunch BS!

(Above: The Offender!)

Today I had one of those shifts at work where nothing seemed to go right. I had other things on my mind and all I wanted was to get through the shift incident free. Fat Chance!

I had the GM of the restaurant hovering over me all shift critiquing me, and coming up with little BS chores, and tasks for me to do for his Bloody Mary Bar! We have to sell the bloody Mary bar! It's just more trouble than it's worth. Oh, and I missed last weekend since then they changed the lay out of the bloody Mary bar. Hoses, also, have been attached to the ice bins holding the garnishes, and they need to drain into a bucket. The GM wasn't happy with our spicy tomato juice so he's gotten a recipe from a local hot sauce retailer and now we make our own spicy bloody marry mix, and a salt/spice mixture for rimming the glasses. Then a display plate on the Bloody Mary Bar shifted and the decorative empty bottles of Vodka topple onto a pitcher with beef consume, which consequently shattered and spilled everywhere. What a pain in the ass that was! (Not to mention the fact that the bar gets torn down during my last hour of work. The busiest time of the shift. Even if I've had only one paying customer all day, and I've just been making a butt-load of Mamosas, and Kir Royals for the servers once I start tearing the bloody Mary bar down - WHAM - service orders, Mojitos, and suddenly a full bar. It's uncanny.)


Also, not only did the screw pictured above end up in a glass of Passion Fruit Sangria, but I shattered a glass into the ice bin and had to melt all the ice, clean out the bin, etc. Then right before I left I went to pour a glass of Cava, Spanish Champagne, and there was a pour spout in the bottle, and I thought to myself, "Hm, I've never poured it with one of those. I wonder if it works." The Answer Is No! The Cava fizzed up and spewed out of the nozzle, shooting three feet through the air directly into another bartender's right eyeball. It was like something out of a sitcom.

Somedays, it would be better to just stay in bed. Now I'm home and I just want to put it all behind me. Hopefully, I won't burn down the apartment!

Damn Good-Looking Couple!

'Nuff Said!

A Possible Project

So I got up early today and rode the train downtown, accompanying my fabulous girlfriend to work part way, because I wanted to stop by this book store I love. Well, the store was closed. Apparently the hours of operation I'd gotten off the internet were wrong. So I wandered around for an hour then headed back.

They didn't have the book I wanted; the second in a five book series which I've decided to read consecutively. I can't find it used anywhere and might have to just suck it up and buy it new. Anyway, I browse the store for almost an hour, reading book jackets, selecting one or two only two return them minutes later, and before I know it an hour has past and I decide that maybe I should just go home and start 1 of the 8 books that are on my 'Books I Have To Read... Eventually' List. Great, case closed!

A chance sideways glance as I'm exiting the store leads me to a stack of pamphlets advertising a writing contest: 3-Day Novel Contest. In a nutshell, the writer has 72 hours to write a novel of any possible length. The honor system is in full effect and the grand prize is publication of said novel. (For more information go to www.3daynovel.com ) The only problem is the deadline for entry is this Friday and the contest starts at 12:01 AM Saturday. I also work Saturday Morning and Sunday Night, sucking at least 12 hours out of my possible 72 hour allotment. Hmmm, should I attempt it anyway? I do like working with a deadline. All my other writing projects are currently beating their collective heads against a brick wall the size of Kirstie Alley's butt! This might be a fun little exercise. This might get the old creative juices flowing. Hey, maybe I'll even get a novel out of it that I can use to brag to my friends, "Yeah, I wrote a novel. I might even get it published someday.". I've even got a premise that I could write about.

Hmmmmmm?

Believe It Or Not

Some people still dance THE ELECTRIC SLIDE at wedding receptions! It's true! I saw it first hand. I was brutally mauled by nostalgia!

Congratulations C & C! It was a beatiful wedding and a bacchanalian fun-fest of a reception.

Corona Means Crown, Right?

Tonight after work I went for a beer with some folks from work. (As I said before in the restaurant industry it happens all the time.) Anyway I find my self sitting next to a fairly new busboy, an older gentleman named Gustabo. Nice enough chap, anyway I make the msitake of asking him where he is from and I get a whole diatribe about French colonies in Mexico, Cinco De Mayo and European kings.

He then turns to me and asks, "And you?"

I reply, "I'm from Maryland. The Baltimore/Washington Metropolitan Area."

This really excites Gustabo who, with his amazingly thick accent says, "Ahhhhh, Maryland. Thats where Albapreswweigh is from, no?"

Without flinching I say, "I'm not sure"

He repeats, "Albapesweigh. You know who is Albapreswigh?"

I use the bars volume level as an excuse for missing the exact name. "Who?"

"Albapressweigh. Rock and Roll? Alba - do you understand my english - Albapressweigh."

"I'm sorry I can't really hear you," I explain, "It sounded like you said Elvis Presley."

"Yes, Albapresswweigh. That is who I said."

"Oh, no I'm pretty sure he's from Tennessee, Alabama, something like that," I offer.

Gustabo is confused. "I thought it was Marlyand."

"Maybe you're thinking of Graceland."

"Perhaps. I need a beer."

So I bought him a beer, because that is what the King would've wanted.

You What?

"Can I get a beer?"

"Sure. Can I see your I.D?"

"Oh, you know what? I didn't bring it. Is that going to be a problem?"

"Only if you want to drink."

"Really?"

"Sorry."

"Aw, come on man, I'm 25 years old!"

"Then you should know better. I'm 30 and I never go out to a bar/restaurant without my I.D. I think it's called 'common sense'."

My Day Off?

An extra hour in bed, with my eyes closed just fighting the waking hours.
A leisurely walk.
70 pages of high adventure.
A new hair cut.
Happy Hour at my brother's work.
A watermelon-flavored Jolly Rancher soda.
A pigeon pecking away, voraciously, at a Peanut Butter Cup.
Tiny little bald guy sitting on the El next to a big tall bald guy. Funny sight gag.
Relaxing...

HOOOORRRRAAAAYYYY!!

The Air & Water Show is in town!

That means no sleeping in and no midday naps. Who can sleep with fighter planes buzzing the lake starting at 10 in the morning? That means constant fly-bys every 2 minutes or so, when you least expect it, when the most important line in a TV show is being uttered, when your nerves are frazzled by the constant bombardment of sonic booms! Isn't that fun? That means an amazing amount of tourists stampeding to the Old Town neighborhood to crowd the beach and crane their necks to the sky, before running off to neighborhood restaurants and throwing down 9% Tips. I hope we get some spill over.

I guess it could be worse. It could be The Taste Of Chicago.

Can't Sleep

So I'm putzing around with my blog at 3AM. (Hey, we can't all be banging strippers! Thanks for the IM, RR! Sleep well!)

Look to the right.

What do you see?

That's right a link to yet another site of mine. People sometimes say to me, "I'd love to read one of your scripts." Now they can. It's a one act, far from brilliant, but a nice a sample of my writing style, dialogue, and subject matter. It's a rough draft and I'm having a hard time transferring it over from my writing software; the format's all screwed up. Soon, though, soone enough you'll be able to sit down and read one of scripts with just the click of the mouse. Let me know what you think.

Say It Loud!

Have you ever seen a black squirrel?

No, this is not the beginnings of a racist joke. I'm serious.

They look just like normal squirrels except they're black, or as close to it as possible. I just saw one in the street. I was picking up my dry cleaning when I glanced over into a yard and there, not two feet away, was a black squirrel.

I know what you're thinking. So What?

Here's the thing, the only other time I've ever seen a black squirrel was in Toronto. I was there, 1998, taking part in a medieval pageant play festival and the town was over run with squirrels... black ones. When I asked someone, a Canadian, what kind of squirrels they were he looked at me like I was a stupid American. (Which of course I was!) Anyway, apparently squirrels in that part of Canada are black, or darker than their cousin squirrels one nation south.

I could be completely wrong about this, but I started wondering if the black squirrel in my neighborhood was one of these Canadian Squirrels; a new breed of squirrel that has been transplanted to Chicago. Maybe it's just a freak of nature. Or maybe I am just an idiot and black squirrels are as common in this town as black labs. Who knows? I was just wondering.

I'd Almost Forgotten

Sitting in a lounger, fully clothed, beer in hand, watching a beach ball make lazy circles in the pool. Leaving for the airport soon. Why is vacation time so much quicker than normal time?

Then the dream comes back to me...

I'm in a house, I'm not quite sure whose, and suddenly the light goes out in the stairwell - one lone bulb suspended high above the steep, twisting stairs - and it's understood that my duty is to change the light so I climb up into a nook close to the outlet, a cranny high up in a corner, there is a small window looking out into a grey evening, and I am reaching out, stretching my arms, groping for the bulb that remains just out of reach, when suddenly an old lady starts to descend the stairs (I am immediately aware that she is one of two ancient crones who reside on the top floor) she slowly creaks and grunts her way down a few steps when I shout out, 'HEY' the woman shrieks, scared out of her wits, and loses her footing, pitches down a flight of stairs slamming her fragile skull into the wall, crumbles and then continues to topple down the remaining stiars, apparently, lifeless and all I can do is stare at the body as it rolls out of sight and wonder why I shouted - maybe it was out of a concern for the woman fumbling in the dark, maybe I just was alerting her to my presence and current chore, or perhaps my childish pleasure in frightening others got the better of me- either way I'm to blame

Then I wake up with a small start, and the dream starts to fade, forgotten, pushed aside, until later in the morning as I stare at the reflections in the tree's underbelly, dreading the flight back to everyday.

A Little R & R

Heading up to Minnesota tonight. We sure could use a vacation. Floating in the pool, sweating in the sauna, and then a nice little stroll down to the Cup & Cone. Looking forward to it.

Maybe I'll send you a postcard.

The Plaque

Don't forget...

Fall seven times, stand up eight.

$2 Martinis And A Jerk Named Charlie.

So last night we decided to meet up at a local Italian restaurant and take advantage of their Wednesday Night/Two Dollar Martinis. The resident stud bartender was working, but he was being followed by a cutie-pie, recent hire. I've been in the restaurant business long enough to recognize a trainee when I see one.

Anyway, we were sipping on our third round and waiting on our entree when the owner, Charlie,(Charlie had pulled up earlier with his young daughter and her friends in tow. He set them up in a corner booth and made sure they were pampered all night.) starts chatting up the new hottie. He tries to show his knowledge on all things by reciting her schedule from memory, and he was wrong on almost every day. He ask her what her availability is, and apparently his recollection of the interview process wasn't too accurate either. He thought he was hiring a bartender who could work whatever shifts he needed, when, in actuality, he'd hired a real estate agent who was just looking for a few shifts a week. Charlie was not happy, and he let the bartender know as much.

Not My Business!

I'm a paying customer, a client, a guest, what have you, I do not want to have my dining experience tainted by a confrontation between a boss and his staff. Don't talk down to your employee in front of a couple who's just trying to enjoy a few martinis at the bar. We could hear every word. We could see the embarrassment in the bartender's face. It was her second day and already the boss comes close to making her cry? In front of her guests? What a prick? Take it to the back office. Discuss it after the shift.

I was tempted to say something to Charlie but I was sure it would only make the situation more awkward for the new bartender. Bosses like that really get to me. So disrespectful. I'm sure he thinks he's a cool boss, everybody's buddy, and he may be normally, but the guy I saw arguing with his staff in the middle of the shift is no one I'd want to work for. Oh, but I did hear him make a "Charlie's Angels' reference to a few of his waitresses, and it was pretty sleazy.

Maybe we won't frequent that restaurant anymore... well, not as much... maybe only on $2 Martini nights! What can I say? After a few martinis I'm a little more forgiving. Aren't we all?

Waiter? There's A Hair In My Seafood Stew!

So we went out to dinner at a nice restaurant tonight. I'm working again, I can pick up extra shifts yah dah yah dah yah dah... spent more than I had planned but it's good to go out and eat every now and then. Anyway, after dinner I'm waiting near the front entrance for my beautiful girlfriend to use the powder room and I glance into the kitchen. The wall has these little portals/windows so you can observe the kitchen staff. There's this young kid, buzz cutt, ratty T-Shirt, with an eyeball tattooed on the back of his neck cooking and jamming along to the music. He's fun to watch when all of the sudden I notice these blonde wisps of hair around his ears. At first I thought maybe he was Hasidic, maybe 'Hair Cuttery Challenged' or maybe I just haven't been watching MTV and am behind in the styles. OH NO, these hairs weren't around the ears, or behind the ears these were growing from his earlobes. Now I know men sometimes grow ear hair, especially as they age. This kid couldn't have been older than his late twenties, and it wasn't like he had a few errant hairs. I admit I even have a few, but it looked like this MoFo had glued Corn Silk to his lobes. Maybe he decided earrings were out and produce was the next accessory. He looks like a Muppet! Did you ever see Labrinth? Those guys who could pull their own heads off and switch limbs and such, that's what it looked like. I'm not kidding. These hairs were 2 inches if they were a millimeter, and I'm pretty sure he bleached these buggers to make them blonde! WTF? It was amazing. I was entranced, and then when my better half joined me I asked her to look into the kitchen at the young dude cooking. She started to ask what she was supposed to be looking at and then stopped abruptly and bolted out the door to hide her laughter. Okay, so it wasn't just me. It was odd. Good restaurant. Great Food. Pricey Menu! Mutant Tamarine Marmoset working the Hot Line! Is that sanitary? Shouldn't Ear Muffs be required? Young children could swing from this line cook's ear lobe hair and he's entrusted to prepare my Sweetheart's steak? The man can't handle a pair of scissors but he can work a gas grill? Plus he bleaches the bad boys?

(By the way, dinner was excellent. I did, however, promptly purge myself upon leaving the restaurant. Passersby were quoted as hearing, "Bleeechh! What is wrong with the world? Guplump Raesft! What's next? Neon Mole Hair? Rrrraaalllppphhh!!!!")

Pick A Peck Of Pickled Peck!

His message said I sounded like I need someone to talk to, that I sounded down.

That's funny because I always feel like I should be doing more as his friend.

Sometimes I feel like he's feeling down.

Sometimes I feel like he needs someone to talk to but when I call him just to say hi and apologize for missing his birthday he's concerned for me.

It's hard missing a friend.

It's hard waking up one day and not being able to remember the last time you saw that friend in person.

I miss many friends but only a very few make me smile, and laugh just saying their name.

I guess that's part of the fun of missing someone.

Johann von Goethe once said,

"He is happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds peace in his home."

Now, I'm no Buddha and I'm sure not a Lennon but I think this quote is cool. I, often times, become restless, unfulfilled, and frustrated with the random directionless path I meander down everyday. Then I stop, look at my snail and remind myself to be patient. I also focus on the positivity, and support I have in my home. When all else is crap, most times, I can walk through my door and receive a heartfelt hug and a smooch on mi boca and my troubles start to melt away. Sometimes they don't but it's nice to know that I have a place in the world where I can just be.

Of course, our AC window unit is crap, there's water damage in the bathroom, my laundry pile would intimitate Edmund Hillary , and my TV reception is bad, but it's where I hang my heart!

The Hot Question

After 30 minutes of waiting for the bus in the scorching hot sun, I was covered in a layer of sweat. The breeze that stirred up the exhaust fumes from the passing traffic was absolutely no relief. The August heat was oppressive, and still no bus.

Then a heavy-set, black woman walked up the bus stop and took a seat beside me on the bench. She was deep into a conversation on her cell, and didn't even acknowledge my presence. After less than a minute of sitting on the bench I hear her complain, loudly, "I wish this bus would hurry up and come. I'm hot as hell." (I actually heard the whole conversation due to the fact that the woman was speaking in a ridiculously loud voice the entire time but this comment was extra loud.) She went back to her conversation and I tried my hardest not to eavesdrop. Several minutes later the same woman whines into the phone, "Damn, I'm burning up. I wish this bus would get here soon. I can't take much more of this."

3 minutes. 6 Minutes tops the woman had been at the bus stop. Other peoples were there twice as long. I had been there for over a half hour! What's going on?

"You been here long? 'Scuse me, I said you been here long?"

I answered that I had, indeed, been waiting for a long time. She cursed to herself, in my direction and then went back to her phone call. She relayed the information to her caller, denounced the public transportation system, and then went on to complain for several more minutes. I, deciding I needed to find a way to pass the time and possibly shut her up, stood to stretch my legs. I then crossed to the curb directly in front of the boisterous woman, dropped my CTA card, and bent over to pick it up giving her a front row seat of the spectacular spectacle that is a man's sweat-soaked, swamp ass! I'd been sitting on the bench for 30 minutes, moisture pooling, cheeks clenching. It couldn't have been pretty.

"Have you been waiting long?"

"I guess that depends on how you look at it."

Happiee Berfffday, DoucheBag!

Tonight as I stepped off the #22 Clark Bus, heading home from work, I was nearly bowled over by an amazingly drunken princess. She was out celebrating her 21st birthday, and somehow had lost all of her friends. She was stumbling through Wrigleyville, one broken sandal in her hand, crown on her head, and reeking of Cosmopolitans.

She said hello and started telling me all about her night, and how drunk she was, and how all of her friends, "Those DoucheBags!" had left her and headed out to another bar, she was going there to meet her friends, "Those DoucheBags!" and oh, yeah she was drunk, and the bouncer at the last bar almost didn't take her ID, "That DoucheBag!" and she thought I was a really nice guy for talking to a drunken stranger and she was glad I wasn't a DoucheBag!

Everybody, apparently was a DoucheBag... except me. We walked for three blocks because the bar she was headed to was near my apartment, she just kept rattling on. Now, I don't want to say that this chick was a porker, but she was definitely bigger boned than I am and truth be told if she had taken a header I'm not sure I could've helped her up. She kept stumbling against me and I was starting to worry that she might fall on top of me. Luckily, we made it to my corner, and as I bid the her good night she asked me if I wanted to come to the bar and have a drink with her and her friends. Tempting I know, but I opted to not go. Her friends sounded like a bunch of DoucheBags!

And They Said Romance Was Dead

Did you here about this?

Some Kenyan offered Bill Clinton a dowry of 40 Goats & 20 Cows to wed Chelsea. The man, who's in his thirties, has sworn off all other women, supposedly, until he receives an answer. He first 'proposed' in 2000.

Now I'll be the first to admit that Chelsea Clinton has come along way from that awkward child we all knew from her days in the White House, but come on, that's a lot of livestock to wed a minor celebrity. I wonder what the going rate for a real star would be. How many hogs would I have to throw down to get a shot at, say, Lindsay Lohan? Do you think Tom Cruise payed for his soon to be bride in sheep, or long horn steers?

And to think, I stress out figuring out how I would afford a ring.

Inspected By # 26

Or so read the slip of paper I found buried in one of my vest's decorative pockets.

If you haven't been keeping up I must wear a vest at my new job, waiting tables, and it makes perfect sense to me. It's Summer. Hot. Humid. I need more layers as I'm running around the restaurant, schlepping tapas for Lincoln Park's elite. It's possible that I could sweat more if I was wearing, maybe, a triple down skiing jacket. Nothing is more appetizing than some pudgy, red-faced, sweat-soaked, newbie waiter running up to your table and saying, "Welcome to (Fill In Blank)! Can I start you off with a pitcher of Sangria? Oh, and try the seared octopus. It's to die for!"

But seriously folks, today was my first 'solo' shift. I was supposed to get a half a section for my trial run. Unfortunately with the monsoon-ish rain we didn't get busy till later, half my half section was dripping water from the ceiling, and then 2 of my tables were the last tables to leave the restaurant at the end of the night. Not the most ideal of shifts. But it can only get better. Most everyone that I work with is friendly, and willing to help the new kid out. As for the clientele... well that's always a crap shoot anyway, I guess.

Pillow Sweat!

Damn is it hot? Yesterday I put in our AC. Unfortunately with the way our apartment is laid out it's almost impossible to cool with one weak window unit. it cooled down, maybe, ten feet of air around the window and that was about it.

We went to bed with our fans all on high and and pointed right at us and still we baked all night long. Any body contact became unbearable within seconds and the other person would role away with a grunt. I tossed and turned on my side of the bed, sheets drenched with my sweat and my pillow sponged up the rest. At one point I turned around in bed and put my head at the foot the bed just so I could find a dry inch. As I lay there exhausted, hot and irritable I kept drifting back to The March Of The Penguins. (Earlier on in the evening, in an effort to escape the heat we went to the Music Box to watch the documentary. All of those grand, sweeping shots of the freezing antarctic ice, and the scenes of the brutal blizzards beating down upon the community of Penguins actually were quite refreshing.)

It's still hot. A man should not break a sweat sitting in a chair, typing on his computer.

Word Of The Day

Kiestering - (according to Lisa Ling, who appeared on Oprah today) it is when prison inmates hide contraband in their anal cavity or as Oprah put it, "Up The Butt!" An ingenious convict may hide items such as 'hit lists', drugs, personal mementos, knives, and/or shivs up their pooper! Ouch!

Well, I guess it's true what they say, You do learn something new everyday!

The Store

So tonight, after work, I went out for a few drinks with a few of my new co-workers. I've been busting my ass all week, and tonight I took some tables and felt pretty good about my performance, for the most part, and decided to socialize with a handful of people I barely know. I think I'll have fun at my new job. It's been a while since I've worked in a restaurant but I remember when I first moved to Chicago and worked for FTG, man, we'd be out every night. The front of the house, the back of the house and the managers all kicking back and having a few beers to wind down.
Then there were those mornings you woke up with an empty pocket and you mentally totalled up the damage from the night before.

$137 Earned Tips For The Night

$42.25 For 5 Beers + 2 IrisH Car Bombs For Me

$5.95 For An Order Of Chicken Tenders

$23 For A Round of Shots

$25 Bar Tab At The Second Bar

$13 Bar Tab At The 4 O'Clock Bar

$.50 For Vending Machine Condom In Bar Bathroom

$10 Cab Fare

Damnit! Seventeen Dollars and Thirty Cents!? What the hell did I do last night? Excuse me... excuse me. Wake up. Yes, hi. What's your name? Shannon? Okay, nice to meet you, Shannon. Um, can you tell me how I spent over $100 last night? No, well then, did we have a good time? Who are you and how did you end up here? Uh... So... I mean do you want breakfast?

It's fun to think about hanging out with work buddies even if I'm just the new kid on the block. I'm pretty much done with my wild days, and I don't mind saying that I've got amazing incentive to run home after every shift. A few beers after work with the co-workers will be a welcome routine, I hope.

Something odd though, on my way home I saw a woman jogging through the center of Wrigleyville at 1 AM. She was wearing an Orioles Jersey, had her hair up in a pony tail and was listening to her Ipod as she jogged down Clark Street. What's going on here? Who jogs in the middle of the night? Is she fight ing with her significant other? Insomniac? Obsessive? Olympic hopeful? Just plain nuts?

What do you think?

The Elusive Vest!

So I have a job now. Today was my first day of training and Friday we were given our uniform requirements. Pretty standard.

• Black Pants
• Black Shoes
• Black Socks
• Black Belt
• White Button-Down, Long-Sleeve Dress Shirt
• A Dress Vest (Your choice of style.)
• A Neck Tie (Also Your A Choice)
• Four Black Pens
• A Wine Key
• A Lighter

So I roll out of bed on Sunday afternoon and brave the intense heat, the Cubs crowd, and my killer hangover (Bachelor Party) to go out and rustle up the few items I didn't possess. What grown man doesn't own a white dress shirt and black slacks? Me! I'm that grown man. Five pairs of jeans, and countless obnoxious T-Shirts but no white dress shirt, or black pants.

Easily solved. In the first hour out I had purchased a shirt and pants, separately, for less than $20.

All that was left was a vest. How hard could it be to find a vest! Well, the first place didn't have any vests. Nor the second. The third only had XS tuxedo vests, oh and one sparkly black number that I passed on. The next place had no vests. The following store, an Army Surplus Store had vests... Camouflaged vests! The next place had only sweater vests. One vendor said, "I got leather vests. You know, Harley Davidson?"

Where in the hell are all of the vests? Don't get me wrong, it's not my fashion accessory of choice either! The only people, besides waiters, I see wearing vests these days are Valets, Chain Gangs, and The Coast Guard! But I never thought that a vest would be so hard to hunt down.

This morning I got up and went to a uniform store and the cheapest vest was $40. For a vest! $40 for a vest, which is kinda like paying $40 for a 'Dress Tank Top'! For that much money the vest should have sleeves... of course then it wouldn't be a vest!

So finally, with an hour and a half to spare I found a thrift store with vests. Butt Ugly vests! You know, plaid, stripes, a few Tiger Scout vests, some terminally stained vests and one borderline passable vest. This was the 16th store I had tried in less than 24 hours, I was at my wit's end. The vest is Navy Blue with a silver back, and Bright, Shiny, Gold Buttons and I bought it for $5!

Of course I was so anxious, and frustrated I didn't bother to try it on until I got home. It's a little snug but I can't tell if it's the vest, or my gut. The gut I can work on.

WTF?

Being unemployed I have developed a bad habit. I've started watching Maury! Do you remember when Maury Povich was a reputable journalist? Anyway, I can't get enough of DNA Paternity tests. It's amazing.
"Kim, we are here for the fifth time. You want to know for sure who the father of you baby is. We've already tested 12 men. Today we are going to test three more and hope that one of these men is the father, but I doubt it."

Today, I watched a 'guest update' show and saw the most disturbing thing ever. This 'little girl', and I use the term loosely, was 4 years old and weighed over 200lbs! 200lbs! 4 Years old! It was hard to even watch her walk. She got winded sitting down. Her mom was extremely worried about her daughter's weight. Understandable, I'm freaking out about it! But the worse part was she appeared like five different times on the Maury show. She came back after gaining 30 lbs. She returned after dropping 8lbs. Now, maybe I'm way off base here but appearing on television because you're concerned about your obese child and want to find some help for her is one thing. Repeatedly getting free airline tickets, and going to New York to appear on television so Maury can hug your daughter and get better ratings seems like it's bordering on exploitation. It's disturbing!

"Hey, look honey, Maury's got on the fat girl again! Let's order a couple pizzas! Good Lord, she's got mor chins than China!"

Now, I don't have a child, yet, and I'm sure I'll love my kids no matter what but before taking my chubby child on trash televison, I think I'd make him/her eat a salad once in a while. Put a lock on the fridge! Stop buying doritos in bulk and visit the produce section of the grocery store. Take away the TV remote so they'd have to get off the couch to change the channel.

I once worked in a summer camp and we had a 6 year old boy who weighed in at 130lbs. He was a tub of goo. All the other kids talked about him, and all of the adults secretly made fun of him. One time we were rough-housing and he went to jump on me, but a little girl got in the way and he had to pull back so he wouldn't hurt her. He crapped his pants! The strain of stopping his momentum was to much for his body to take and he squeezed out a turd on accident. Once I stopped laughing my ass off, I realized how sad it really was. I've never forgotten the look on his face. I'm glad I never saw him on Ricki Lake!

Heads or Tails?

Are you tired of my complaining yet? Seriously? I've been bitching a lot lately, haven't I? Negativity has been my thing lately.

But now... I've been offered a job... by two different restaurants... who I didn't expect to hear from! The first (SEE POST DIRECTLY BELOW) has told my little brother that they are, indeed, interested in hiring me even thought they are 'fine dining', I'd have to wear a tux, they'd would probably over-train me, and I didn't wear a neck tie to my 2nd interview. The other place, which I was hoping for, is a tapas restaurant, corporate so there will be benefits, is probably a better fit for my personality and is planning on utilizing me as a server & a bartender!

Training starts on Monday for both, so it's not possible to work part-time at each place. I really didn't expect to get hired by the first place after the interview and getting the feeling that I wasn't qualified. I had a good feeling about the second place but I couldn't read the manager at all during the interview, and walked away thinking I'd blown another chance.

So what do I do? Should I flip a coin? Yes, that's what I'll do... right now. I'm flipping a coin. I'll call it in the air. 'HEADS!' Oops! Damn, where'd did it go? It rolled under the desk! Aw, there it is! It looks like it landed on...

Which Is Funnier?

M&S: Well, thank you so much Mr. Cobb for coming in for this interview. I will tell you that the one strike you have against you so far is the fact that you didn't wear a shirt and tie. You didn't put enough thought into putting on a nice shirt and tie. Now, I know some people have the mentality that, "Hey, it's just a server position or a bartender position. I don't need to look my best for the interview." I don't agree. That's the one thing so far you've got going against you. Now I don't know how old you are, I don't care but in the future, if I were you I'd dress a little nicer. That's all I'm saying.

Mr.Cobb: I knew I should've dressed up more, sir. I had the nicest full length, strapless gown with elbow length gloves and a tiara. Then I thought to myself, "Hey, it's just a server position!"

or

Mr.Cobb: Well, you know what they say. "A turd in a shiny wrapper is just a turd and I'm the shit, baby!" (Jumps up onto the table and proceeds to do the Cabbage Patch until hauled away by restaurant security.)

(In my defense I had on slacks, nice shoes, and a collared shirt. I'd even shaved. It's not like I rolled into the interview wearing jeans, flip-flops and my 'Morningwood' T-shirt. But I guess you can't please everyone.)

Can't sleep!

When I was in high school I averaged like 1& 1/2 hours of sleep a night. If I was lucky. I was a bit of an insomniac, I guess. I'm not sure cause I could definitely sleep during school, just not at night as I lay awake in bed shaking my legs, tossing and turning, watching the clock night after night.

Then in college I could sleep anytime, anywhere, through anything. I told myself I was just catching up from high school. I pulled only 1 all-nighter while I was in school. It was on a stage design project, and the only reason I had to stay up all night was because I'd lost my patience and stepped on the project... ten times.

Lately, I've been having trouble sleeping. I'll go to bed and lie there and I just can't fall asleep. I'll be dozing at the TV, nodding off while reading a book, or wiped out from a long day but when I crawl into bed, suddenly I'm wide awake! My mind is racing 100mph!
I'm stressing about being unemployed, about my debt, about my dirty apartment, about the state of the world, about who played henchman #7 in BatMan Begins.
I worry about my shortcomings as a person, a writer, a lover, and a boyfriend.
I revisit old scripts in my head. I edit. I erase. I start anew. I brainstorm on problem areas. I rework background stories, character development, awkward moments, weak endings, etc.
After a while I'll quietly get out of bed and tip toe out of the bedroom. Sit at my computer and stare blankly at the screen for a half hour or more. Everything I was planning, brainstorming, changing, writing, and envisioning is no longer in my head. From the time it's taken me to sneak out my bedroom and sit at the computer my mind has become a total blank. WTF?

So I'll turn on an old movie until I get sleepy. I'll open a book and read until I start to nod off. Then I'll crawl into bed with my blissfully unaware girlfriend and listen to her softly snoring and hope that my brain has slowed down enough to allow me some shut eye.

Oh well, at least I can sleep in! That's the good thing about being unemployed.

*Update: Several job interviews later I have a few 2nd interviews scheduled this week and it is a possibility I'll be working by this time next week. Unless of course 3rd interviews are required! Keep your fingers crossed.

Fried Bubba Love!!!

Several years ago I ran a karaoke night at a local bar here in the city under the name Bubba! It made me laugh. The name not the job! After months and months of suffering through countless renditions of Bohemian Rhapsody and butchered 'Old School' inspired versions of Total Eclipse of the Heart I was constantly amazed to get through nights where I didn't actually spit on someone. I never did. I held it together and retired honorably.

Should I test fate?

Why not?

This coming Friday Night, July 15th for ONE NIGHT ONLY I will, once again, be stepping up to the mic and hosting one more night of Karaoke at Trader Todd's Adventure Bar, 3216 N. Sheffield Chicago IL. I got a call asking me to fill in for a friend and being unemployed, and broke I wasn't about to say no! So come on out, have a Mai Tai, sing some bad music, and listen to me berate a bunch of drunken Bo Bice Wannabes until they wet themselves. Should be fun! I just hope I can last the night!!!!

* Fried Bubba Love was once the name of my weekly email announcements for all of my Karaoke loving friends and loyal supporters!