Memorial Day

It's memorial day. go outside or if it's raining read a book.

Who Are These People?

Have your parents ever taken up some ridiculous hobby and go so overboard with it that at some point you find yourself saying "What the fuck is going on here, who are these people?

My parents are currently heavily into birds. I'm not sure exactly how this happened. For years we've had a modest bird feeder in the back corner of our backyard, and just over the last month bird feeders have been springing up in the yard like high priced condos.

We used to talk about normal things at dinner like how I should move the fuck out of their house before they strangle themselves. Now they say things like: "You should have seen this blue speckled finch that was eating out of the Opus 8302 Berkshire feeder today." and all I can do is shake my head and say, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Sometimes I'll wake up in the morning and I'll see my Dad in the kitchen with a pair of binoculars, reading from his bird manual. and I'll say, "Hey Dad how's it going" and he'll be like "shhhhhhhhhhhhh.." be quiet, do you see the male cardinal feeding on those white millet seeds, I just put out there.

And I'm like, "yeah I do see it Dad, do you realize that you are in the house looking at birds through fucking binoculars?"

Now because there are so many bird feeders in my backyard, squirrels too have started to come in droves to the "bird feeder district" of the yard. But my dad was having none of that because the squirrels were scaling up the poles of the feeders, scaring away all the birds and eating all the seeds.

To remedy this problem, he smeared vaseline on the poles of all the bird feeders. Sometimes I'll be walking through the kitchen and I'll see all these squirrels trying to climb the pole, but they get about halfway up and then slide right back down because of the vaseline.

And you probably think thats weird. And it is. But so is this.

Whenever my Mom sees squirrels, she runs outside with a louisville slugger bat that she always keeps next to the door, and chases them out of the backyard.

So Yeah. These are the people responsible for my birth.

Being "That Guy"

Theres nothing worse than being that guy at the office.

The guy who is sniffling, sneezing, wheezing, hacking up a lung, and blowing his nose loudly every few minutes.

The person who is making everyone in the surrounding cubicles absolutely miserable for the day.

The person for whom you pray that some time in the next 8 hours hours will just drop dead.

The person who eventually gives you the cold he has because of the close quarters.

That was me yesterday.

and

I am a horrible person.

a horrible person in need of some sort of over the counter cold remedy.

somebody shoot me.

The Worst Morning of All Time

After you push the snooze button for the 5th time you realize that you've overslept almost 30 minutes.

Your hot water heater is shot and your only option is to take an artic cold shower, and you forgot that you used all the shampoo the morning before so you are forced to wash your hair with bar soap.

You go in your closet and realize that you don't have anything clean left to wear, so you take a wrinkled dress shirt off your floor, spray it with febreeze a couple times and put it on.

Then you go in the fridge to make a sandwich and you realize that all that's left are the two butt ends of the loaf of bread and you are forced to make an "end-wich"

you catch every single red light on the way to work, you even get stopped by a crossing guard who comes out of left field with a fucking stop sign in his hand, who you've never seen before in your life and just seems to be there with the sole purpose of making you more late for work.

While driving, someone cuts you off, and you spill an entire thermos of scalding hot coffee in the crotch area of your khakis.

You get about halfway to work and realize that you are driving on fumes, and will probably have to push your car to the gas station on the way home from work.

As you get off the expressway you realize that you forgot your wallet at home in the back pocket of your grey "stain defender" dockers with the elastic waist band.

You drive into the office parking lot at like 90 miles an hour and run out of the parking lot and just as you are about to open the office door you realize that you locked your fucking keys in your car.

When someone at work says "good morning" to you, you reply, "in my fucking dreams."

So how's the job goin?

I hate when people ask, "so how do you like your job?"

It's a very common question and pretty much everyone seems to be asking it, even myself, and we always get the same answer. "Oh it's going sooo great!!!."

What a line of bullshit that is, and I even find myself saying it.

No matter how romantic a view you had about the corporate world, sooner or later you will be broken.

Working 40 hours or more a week inherently sucks, and there is really no way around it.

Work is what it is, it's work. It's not sitting on the beach drinking umbrella drinks, it's not vegging out on the couch eating potato chips, it's not going out to bars, or to concerts, or making out with chicks, or going to ball games. It's work

Which is not to say, that I hate my job.

But if I don't inherit a million dollars or win the lottery sometime in the next couple years, I will probably strangle myself.

Rainbows and Whatnot

It's always great when you're aimlessly walking around Chicago looking for a good bar to go into on a Saturday night, but because you have no sense of direction and are generally lost whenever you venture into Chicago, you soon realize that you have unknowingly walked into the gay district. Dudes walking down the streets rocking leather vests with no undershirts and tight pants, holding hands, the entire area awash in rainbows.

Now of course there are going to be Gay bars in Chicago, that's expected. But is there really a need for a gay hardware store? I've never come across a homosexual socket wrench set or like a hammer but I can't see how much different they would be. Unfortunately it wasn't open at 2:30am, so I wasn't able to see if the gays had made any advancements in tools that we hadn't caught onto yet.

Bar ATMs and Latex

There's nothing worse than when you go to a bar downtown and notice that you have absolutely no money in your wallet. You pace around the bar for awhile and you realize that the only way to get a drink without using your credit card and running up a tab is to go to the ATM machine hidden in the darkest corner of the bar that is always a machine for some shady offshore bank. You look name of the bank on the side of the ATM and its something like, "Southwestern National American Continental Bank of Whatever the Fuck" and you know right away that you're screwed. You put your card in and try to take out 20 bucks and immediately the dreaded screen pops up that says, please accept the $4.00 "you're totally fucked and there's nothing you can do about it because you're our bitch charge."
And 5 minutes later you're sipping on your 8 dollar glass of beer feeling like a total ass.

I was listening to the radio on the way home from work and heard what had to be one of the most ridiculous commericals that I've ever come across on the radio for Durex condoms. It was pretty much one of your cliche condom commercials about how their particular brand of latex is more enjoyable to jackhammer away with and whatnot. But at the end of the commercial the announcer says 100% satisfaction guaranteed or return them for your money back. Alright, that is absolutely ridiculous. Who is the poor bastard that has to open up all those envelopes? I guess my job ain't all that bad. Heres to Friday.

Of Attempts to Up Anchor

So will I ever move out? that is the question.

Sometimes I think maybe I'll just live with my parents the rest of my life. Of course I hope I'm kidding though because neither I nor my parents deserve this much longer.

So the "Great Apartment Search" has started.

a buddy and I have been scouring the Chicagoland area in hopes of finding a decent place to live that is the exact opposite of some of the beat down, dillapidated, bums picking through the garbage out back, college houses I have inhabited in years past. At the same, I feel it's imperative that there are some good bars close by that have cheap beer available.

Currently we have set our sites on Forest Park because of it's close proximity to Chicago, it's cheap beer, and reasonable rent.

We started looking this weekend and at first we didn't really know how to find a good place to live. I thought maybe we should look in the newspaper, or maybe go into the town real estate office, but after a while we just decided to find a good bar, drink some beers and see what happened.

Immediately we started a conversation with the bartender and the next thing we know we're getting all the inside dirt on the town, and she even got us a local newspaper and circled all the apartments/flats for us. What a great chick. So we sat in the bar and called all the ads in the paper, and set up appointments. It was great, because we'd ask the landlords how to get to their building from such and such bar. We had a great system going. We'd go on an apartment viewing, then go back to the bar for a couple beers, than go on another, than go back to the bar; it was a great thing we had going.

There's no better first impression to give your landlord, than meeting him the first time reeking of booze.

There were so many random places we went to. My favorite one was this small apartment/flat on top of the house of this old greek couple. The second we walked into this place and met these people, I instantly imagined us rocking out the top of their house at 2:00am on a Saturday night, with this 70 year old guy banging at the ceiling with a broom handle, blood pressure rising, angry as all hell, yelling, "damn you kids with your beer and your loud rock music" and I thought to myself, these people don't deserve to have us living in the flat above their house. In fact no one really does I presume.

I hate my town

And it's weird because I feel like there was a time when I truly thought it was a great little Suburb of Chicago to drink heavily in and generally act like a complete fool.

But I've figured it out. Arlington Heights is a great place to raise a family and an even better place to be a lanky awkward high school student driving around with your buddies in a hand me down sport utility vehicle, waiting for that weekend where your parents go out of town, to invite half your school over, drinking 30 packs of old styles or skol vodka in a plastic bottle till the sun comes up only to get grounded for a month when your parents find the beer that your buddy hit in the crisper at bottom of the fridge, when you were positive the place was spotless and you had found and removed any evidence that an underage drinking celebration had in fact taken place.

Then you return back to that same town after 4 years of college

and realize that you are 23.

You take a look around the bars and you realize that all you see are bunch of twenty-somethings who don't have their act together and are just leeching off their parents, which I've been doing for more than a year now. Yeah I'm saving alot of money by working full-time and staying with my folks, but is it really worth it?

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm moving.

Less Talk, More Drink

20 dollars all you can drink seems like a great deal. They put a wrist band on you and let you run wild in the bar, slugging down as many watered down cocktails as you can get your hands on in the alloted 3 hour period. That is fun and all, until the three hour period expires at midnight and hundreds of people cram into the bar for 5 dollar drinks and then something horrible happens.

They turn up whatever horrible music they have on their stereo as loud as it will go.

Q. Why do we go to bars where the music is turned up so loud that there is no possible way to carry on conversation?

A. Because girls go to those kinds of bars.

Q. Why do girls go to those kinds of bars?

A. I don't know, because when I asked them they couldn't hear me because the music was turned up too loud.

Owners of bars who purposely blast the music as loud as it can go to increase their alcohol sales should be taken out in the street and shot.

There is nothing enjoyable about going to these places.

You try getting really close and yell in people's ears but you can only take so much of that.

I think that I'm an inherently fun person, and if this bar is packed to the brim, in theory the place should provide some element of fun. Do all these people in the bar know something I don't?

Hooters Billboards and Whatnot

The other day I was driving through Chicago and saw a billboard for Hooters that disturbed me. On one side of the board was the expected large chested waitress smiling, hunched over trying to show as much cleavage as possible. But on the other side of the board was a large picture of a fucking salad!?!! Yes it's true, Hooters is now advertising salads. And you want to know why? Because guys are obviously going in and actually saying to the waitresses "I don't think I want to eat hotwings while I stare at your chest, do you have anything light like maybe a salad? Now that is just wrong.

The reason you go to Hooters is because it's one of the only places you can act like an animal, eat chicken wings, hot sauce smeared all over yourself, licking your fingers, burping, drinking beers, and still have attractive girls with rather large chests flirt with you. Of course they are still absolutely disgusted with you, but there are tips at stake and lord knows that Hooters waitresses are known for being a classy bunch. Now if your sister works for Hooters, don't get all bent out of shape. She might not be the classiest chick on the block, but she does look good in those tight orange shorts. On second thought, I'll have a salad.

In case any of you care Audioscrobbler is now back in action and updating in real time!, so the music link is now back and working more effectively.

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Aaron Karo Live

The other night me and a buddy went to go check out Aaron Karo live at Zanies in Chicago. If you're not familiar with Aaron Karo, you should be. He is one of the funniest 20 something writers out there, and suprisingly, a side splitingly funny stand up comedian. He's also the author of a great book called Ruminations on College Life. But to be honest the best thing about his stand up performance was that he mostly stayed away from the subject of college, cause sometimes after a miserable day at work that kind of sophomoric humor is about as entertaining as a movie with an actress from friends in the cast.

I've never been to Zanies before either but I thought it was an absolute riot. And let me tell you, I've never seen more cute girls packed into one place in a long time. Of course that's because at the dive bars I go to out in the suburbs you're more likely to see some old guy who's missing a few teeth sitting at the bar than any member of the female species.

Old School High School Rager

Last weekend my parents went out of town, so I thought it would be in my best interest to throw a high school style rager.

It's really kind of weird when you get all excited about throwing a house party when you are 23 years old, but this is what happens to you when you live in your parent's basement.

The funny thing is my first reaction when I decided to have a party was to hide glass flower vases and other things that could get broken, and block off certain portions of my house with chairs. My second reaction was, "wait, we're all adults now and there is no need to do things like that." My third reaction was me remembering that when we get about ten beers deep we still are essentially a bunch of animals.

It's funny when you're talking to people at work and you ask them what they did over the weekend and you get answers back like, "me and my wife went to see a movie at the AMC," or, "we went over to a friend's apartment and played bridge," and when they ask you what you did you say, "my parents were out of town so me and some buddies rocked the shit out of their house."

the dumbest thing I have ever seen

I came into my kitchen at around 1:30am to find a group of people around my table playing an intense game of catch phrase. While catch phrase is one of the greatest party games ever, this was one of the most ridiculous variations of the game I have ever witnessed. Someone had pulled out a jar of pickles out of my fridge, ate the last pickle and then made the jar of pickle juice part of the game. Whenever someone lost, you were forced to take a big swig of pickle juice. At first I was like, "what the fuck are you guys doing?" and the next thing I know I had lost and found my myself swigging from the jar.

wow, we are a bunch of idiots.

Picking out Mother's Day Gifts

There's nothing worse than looking for mother's day gifts. It would be so much easier if shopping for your mom was like shopping for one of your buddies. I hate looking through stores for this sentimental knick knack bullshit. I wish I could just go to the liquor store and get her a case of milwaukee's best light, or a handle of vodka in a plastic bottle. But no, I have to look around for flowers, stupid little figurines or cheap jewelry that she wouldn't be caught dead wearing anyways.

Or the best is going into the woman's perfume aisle. You always have some old lady in bright red lipstick spraying like 5 different bottles of sample perfume on you. I don't have the slightest clue how pick out perfume and it's always fun when you go out drinking that night and you reek of women's perfume and your buddies are like, "Ummm dude, I hate to break it to you but you smell like a chick."

Then there's clothes. I have never been able to buy clothes for people, because I thing it is wrong to impose my horrible fashion sense on others. And there's no worse feeling then when someone opens up your gift and pulls out the outfit you bought them and says, "oh this is so nice" in that voice where you can sense that you have just bought something they will never wear. But at the same time they feel bad, so they keep it in the back of their closet and make sure wear it when they're around you a couple times to humor you, but only when they know they won't be seen in public.

Oh and of course at least one year you always end up buying your mom one of those tacky trophies or plaques that usually have one of the following printed on them: World's Greatest Mom, Best Mom ever, I love you mom, I heart mom, Greatest Child Bearer of all time.

Another famous thing is the repeated theme gift. For instance my mom is a nutritionist. When I was 14, I thought, since she is a nutrionist, i bet she would like things with apples on them. So for the next 5 years I bought her an apple clock, apple salt and pepper shakers, apple stationary, apple oven mits. And where are all of these apple themed items you ask? Jammed in the back of her closet along with a cocker spaniel sweater, the world's greatest mom trophy, and a fiber optic flower that changes colors when you plug it into the wall.

Basically what I'm trying to say, is that one day I hope I can find a nice girl who really likes to shop so that I can retire from this nonsense, and focus on more important things like drinking beer.

Grandpa's Birthday, Ten High Whiskey and Such

I didn't watch the Friends finale, and I feel like a better person for not having done so.

Today I was cleaning out my car and I found a warm can of pabst blue ribbon.

It was my Grandpa's birthday today. He is some age in the 70's.

I went over to his house and hung out with him and my great uncle and drank old styles, or "styles" as I like to call them and took shots of ten high whiskey.

ten high whiskey is less than enjoyable, but increases in goodness depending on your company.

My grandpa made this fantastic meat loaf, as well as some mashed potatoes and told old war stories.

my great uncle told me about a time that he drag raced some guy in his office parking lot after work, once and won.

i thought that was fantastic.

they go to the dog track in kenosha every wednesday, and we discussed at length different strategies at which you can win with. My grandpa has been betting on the number 8 dog, every race, every wednesday, for the last 10 years.

i don't think i've done anything for ten years.

Graduation

This weekend a whole nother group of bright eyed college students will get a huge kick in the ass. Hopefully the economy has gotten a little better so it might be a little less painful of a kick. Cause let me tell ya, last year me and millions of other college grads around the country got kicked in the ass with a steel toed boot. But even if things are a little better don't expect a kick by ballet slippers or anything. This is such an exciting time for you guys.

I remember right around this time last year. That last couple months of college, you keep telling yourself, "I really am sick of this whole college environment, and I just want to move onto a new phase in my life." or "I can't wait till I don't have to think about classes, or take tests and just work all the time, and forget about everything once 5:00pm." Well that is a fallacy if I've ever heard one.

The one thing I will say though is that by the end of your senior year, you are sick of everything college. By the time I graduated, if I had to go to one more keg party in someone's back alley or shitty apartment I was going to strangle myself. If one more underclassman puked on my carpet, If one more idiot threw a jello shot and it stuck to my ceiling, If one more teacher passed out another pointless multiple choice test that had no bearing on my future life what so ever, if I met one more rat crossing my path while watching tv in my beatdown shithole house, going to the same fucking bar every wednesday for Karaoke night even though I hated the bar and karaoke. You know what I take it back, graduating is going to be awesome.

If you haven't started looking for a job yet and/or don't know what you want to do with your life yet you are totally fucked.

If you feel like kicking that cocky prick who has a 50K job right out of college, or whos Dad is the CEO of a fortune 500 company somewhere in the groin area, you are not alone, and I might be inclined to say just go with the feeling.

But before you do it make sure you don't have any family members that might be able to get you a job.

you know cause of the whole pot called the kettle black factor

If one of your good friends has a high paying job right out of college be nice to them because maybe they will buy you nice things.

The classifieds and monster.com will become your worst enemy. guaranteed.

dust off that old suit that has been sitting at the back of your closet and get ready to fail.

read tons of interview books with stupid canned questions that people will actually ask you.

find what all your weaknesses are and when they ask you what they are, lie like a motherfucker.

spend all your graduation money on beer and greens fees at your local golf course. Under no circumstances should you save any of that money, because that would make way too much sense.

cry alot, get in touch with your feelings.

if you still don't have a job move back home with your parents, or move into a hip apartment that you can barely afford preferably on the opposite side of town from your old college.

If you have a job, try to go out every night of the week with your unemployed friends. trust me.

But most of all have fun.

The first time you will realize that you have in fact graduated is when you walk into the big bar on campus and realize that you know no one in the bar, and everyone appears as though they just turned 21 and no one appreciates when you sing "when a man loves a woman" in a piercing falsetto on Karoake night.

Top of the Morning

I woke up at 6:10 a.m. to the sounds of "Good Morning" by the Beatles. At first I thought it was really nice of the Beatles to wish me a good morning, but then I realized that, that is the same fucking song that plays every morning Monday through Friday, from the same album "Sergeant Pepper's Miserable Fucking Day at Work Corporation." So i made a pretend gun with my hand, pointed it at my temple, and pulled the trigger. Unfortunately I was still alive though, because it was merely a hand gun, so alas, I did in fact have to get up for work.

I turned on the shower and stood under lukewarm/hot water, doing the whole shampoo and soap lather routine while whistling dixie and whatnot. Then got out and wrapped a towel around my waist like I always do and looked in the mirror. Unfortunately that same face and beer gut that I see every day was staring right back at me. So I sighed and then applied a liberal amount of colgate tartar control toothpaste on the toothbrush my dentist gave me the last time I visited him and began to vigorously scrub my teeth. My dentist is a great man and sometimes I drink beers with him. But that is besides the point, what I'm trying to say is that I felt confident going to work knowing that my tartar would be controlled.

Soon after I pulled out a box of mint waxed floss and did the kind of things that people tend to do with floss then pulled out a razor and began to participate in an activity that some refer to as shaving. As usual I cut myself in various places, so I wadded up little pieces of toilet paper and stuck them to my face to stop the bleeding. That was unfortunate, but sometimes life works out that way. Next I swallowed a mouthful of winterfresh listerine and swished it around in my mouth and then spit it into the nearby sink. I put on some clothes and ventured upstairs........
to be continued hopefully never

The other day I went to my local barbershop. I'm not exactly sure why I've kept going back to this place the last 20 of so years because I usually end up getting the worst haircuts of all time. You know, the type of haircuts where the barber clearly neglects to cut one side of your head or shaves one of your sideburns off and leaves the other one long?

But i'd feel bad going to another barber, because this guy has been cutting my hair since the days when I was so short that you had to stack 3 phones books on the barber chair. Whenever he cuts my hair he is always carrying on 5 random conversations with different people in the shop and never actually paying attention to the fact that he's destroying my precious hair.

I'll never forget when I was 10 years old and it was supposedly hip to have designs shaved in the back of your head. He for some reason thought that I had asked to have a basketball shaved in the back of my head. After the cut I looked in the mirror to check out the back and said "what the hell is this, I didn't want a basketball shaved in the back of my head?" He said, "I'm sorry, I must have made a mistake" and then gave me a handful of lollipops. Yeah that really helped. That was the worst ever, I hate basketball.

But even though he isn't the best barber in the world, over the years he's become part of our family. Everytime I sit down in the chair he always asks, "so what kind of haircut do you want today?" And I always say, "I want a haircut that will get me tons of chicks" and he always laughs and says, "I'm a barber, not a miracle worker."

It might be time to find a new job if:

- Your boss tells you to have the proposal finalized by 3pm and you think he is really telling you to play solitaire on your computer for the duration of the day.

- You walk into a meeting with one of your clients wearing an "I'm with stupid" t-shirt and then sit down next to your boss.

- You think that the crisper at the bottom of the employee refrigerator is "a good place to store beers."

- Some days you go out to the company parking lot during your lunch break to siphon gas out of your co-workers cars.

- You've thought about stabbing your boss with your letter opener.

- When you pick up your phone you answer with, "Worst company ever, underpaid entry level employee speaking."

- You've ever walked into the office sporting a three piece suit made of Hemp.

- You spend more time watering and pruning the plants on your desk than doing anything actually resembling real work.

- After a co-worker gives a stirring 2 hour presentation on the company's financials you slap her on the ass and tell her "good game."

- You feel left out because everyone else has pictures of their kids on their desk so you put a bunch of frames that you bought at Walmart on your desk with the pictures that came with the frames still in them.

- Your boss can't find you to see if the deal is locked in yet because you are throwing dice on the side of the office with the maintenance guys.

- You try to impress your fellow employees during lunch by taking a dare to eat from the box of Chinese food that has been in the refrigerator longer than you've been working for the company.

check back tommorrow for another ridiculous post