SHOW ME SHIT!

Perhaps it's because it's spring, or maybe because I'm impossibly horny but one thing is for sure: I'm no LONGER hibernating and as a result, I fear I'm leaning too much on my friends for support. Case in point was this brief conversation with Neil today:

ME: "Hey dude, what's up?"

NEIL: [ordering a beer] "Nothing...you?"

ME: "Um, I'll make this quick, I need you to come over, take your pants off and learn me Photoshop."

NEIL: "OK."

I've been so fucking unproductive that all this energy within me is about to blow like that volcano. The lack of actually doing something other than cleaning and working and working and cleaning has made me an un-happy boy.

But the solution(s) is/are clear: I need to get off my lazy ASS and do some shit for myself. But I need a few helping hands. Luckily I have awesome, capable friends that love compliments. Plus, I re-pay them in beer and weed. And perhaps hand jobs [the emotional kind]. Kidding. Sort of.

I'VE BEEN DESCRIBED AS "WAIF-ISH"

On Monday I saw 2 old friends (you know who you are) and amidst our mutual revelry, my female friend intoned "you look really skinny, waif-ish even". It's true, I have lost weight recently, but not because I have an eating disorder, as my friend jokingly suggested. I mean, right after we had this conversation I inhaled half of a large pepperoni pizza, along with 4 beers. If anything I should look like Dom DeLuise.

And seriously, after spending 3 months with my arm in a sling, hosting daily personal pity parties, I should have gained a fuck load of weight. The difference, as far as I can tell, is the new job. During a typical 8 hour shift I'll have to climb and descend 2 flights of stairs 50 times minimum. Often time I'm having to carry heavy shit like a barrel of ice. Other times I have to hoist a dirty tub of dishes above my head without dropping it on any number of people. Ever changed a keg? Holy shit are those fucking heavy!

Next month my gym membership expires and I'm seriously considering canceling it. What's the point? And once it gets warmer out I'm going to start biking again, probably to work and back. Oh! And my hair is growing out, this morning I went to the gym with a raging case of bed head and didn't give a fuck. Not having a shaved head is somewhat of a novelty. Let it grow!

WAS THERE A FUCKING FULL MOON LAST NIGHT?

People always use the "full moon" explanation to excuse all sorts of fucked up behavior, but in the case of last night, that's the only plausible reason I can think of to describe the actions of those I encountered.

Being a Doorman/Bouncer/Babysitter can be both extremely tedious, and also randomly hilarious (and slightly dangerous when dealing with drunk, pissed of guys twice my size). By far the worst though, is when it's some one's BIRTHDAY!

These assholes, and their fucking friends are always a problem. See, in addition to patrolling the door, I also take the money for covers. Last night it was $8. Not too steep for a big city, especially when one considers that the promoters flew in DJ's from LA and Miami.

So last night, 5 people showed up and balked at paying the $8 cover. I offered to let them all in for $25, not bad right? NOT GOOD ENOUGH! They stated that they also had "20-ish" more people about to show up for this dude's birthday bash. To their credit, it was a large crowd, so I offered to let them all in for $80. Guess what...NOT GOOD ENOUGH! Fuckers could barely scrape together $52 in crumpled, sweaty, drug imbued bills. Fine. Fuck it. I let them in.

Eventually it dawned on me that this group of people were ROLLING THEIR NUTS OFF on some high grade ecstasy. I'm not one to judge. That shit is awesome fun. Really. But when I peer outside and the birthday boy is laying down on the sidewalk next to MY door, sweating profusely, it brings out my latent "Mommy" gene.

I asked him if he was OK, and if maybe he needed some water. He eyes fell toward my shoes, and widened, then he said "I LOVE YOUR SHOES, WANNA TRADE THOSE FOR MINE?" Um...I declined politely as possible. Then he realized I was the Doorman and pleaded with me not to kick him out. He was totally wasted but not really a problem. This shit is usual. Or maybe I'm the WORLD'S NICEST DOORMAN/BOUNCER (can I get a coffee mug that says that?). Dunno. They were cool though. And no one puked.

So, the bar I work at on Fridays is kind of a bitch to get to/back from. I have no problem using public transportation, but when the CTA decides to close down a major rail line on the weekend, and the logical alternative bus routes don't run after 3AM, when I leave work, well, shit it can be a challenge.

After I shewed away the trendy drunks and locked the door, I was lamenting my transportation issues with my manager. To my complete and total fucking surprise, he offered to drive me half way home, to a bus route I could catch. This was mildly shocking since he never once offered this favor in the 8+ months I've worked there. I took him up on his offer...

"We just need to make a quick stop first" he said as soon as I got into his car. The "quick stop" was a Punk Rock Dive Bar in the opposite direction from where I needed to get getting to. The reason for said stop was so he could score some blow. Again, I'm not one to judge.

That whole process was fascinating, to say the least. he bought 2 drinks for us, for $60. The bartender gave the money to the bar back, then passed it off to someone else, and after 15 minutes of watching old-school porn on the TV's, we were off. Except, he wanted to get high before we left.

I'll be honest, I like cocaine. Really. As Rick James would say, "it's a hell of a drug" but it's something I do on a VERY rare occasion. I've never snorted that shit from the tip of an extremely sharp hunting knife in a parked car in an industrial neighborhood with my employer, but hey, fuck it.

Said employer insisted he drive me all the way home. I weakly protested, then went on a futile search for an supplemental seat belt, as he zoomed up the on ramp for the Kennedy expressway. I know this sounds all kinds of stupid crazy, but it really wasn't. His driving wasn't what scared me...it was how he explained how easy it is to rob a fucking bank.

JESUS C!

So that was my night. When I arrived home (safely) I couldn't sleep and decided to ride my bike around to burn off some of that crazy drug induced energy. It worked. And somehow I awoke this afternoon feeling totally good. No hangover. So, there's always that. I blame the Moon, and the CTA for my actions.

IT'S LIKE LOOKING IN THE MIRROR!

Firefox has been pissing me off recently, so I took the not so big leap and installed Google's browser "Chrome". Mind you, I am anything but tech savvy so when I make a change like this, and it works out well, I feel like a fucking genius. Watch your back Steve Jobs!

Anyways, one of the features of this new browser, is that it displays your recent history whenever you open a new tab in a grid like format. So, apparently I read a lot of news, am constantly searching Craigslist for jobs (really!), downloading an ass-lod of free hip-hop (Stik Figa in da house!), looking at lots of free porn, indulging in my aircraft fetish and keeping touch with e-mail and Facebook. 

Astonishing, I know. 

HAPPY 2009 BITCHES!

I really wanted my first blog post of 2009 to be special; like something earnest and deep and thoughtful. But as it turns out I did the opposite, sort of.

Got home tonight after a long day of tramping about the city. Finally, after 2 years or so of saying aloud I would do so, I visited the new Chicago History Museum with my buddy. The exhibits were predictable (Chicago Fire/World's Fair/Fort Dearborn, etc...all represented on the ink on my left arm, dur) but the artifacts were fucking awesome! A police helmet from the DNC riots? CTA "L" #1 train car? Abe Lincoln's death bed? Fucking cool. I ate that shit UP.

Afterwards, my buddy and I continued about the city, smoking, drinking. One friend's house turned into another, and by the time I got home, an hour ago, I was tired. But happy. With my curiosity sated. And my mind wired from strong herb.

So I did what usually do in such situations, and I made a nice Coke N' Whiskey, and smoked a Camel Light out on my back porch. While doing so I could hear the muted, "DEEP" conversation taking place on the landing below me between the neighbor's college aged son and some similar aged girl.

I wasn't trying to ease drop, but when the snow falls at night here in the Midwest, this curious thing happens, where loud city things turn quiet, and quiet things like conversations about "LIFE" turn less so. Not wanting to make my presence known to the point of intruding on these nice people's conversation, I stood still and quietly exhaled my cigarette.

But then...the enormous Chicken Caesar Salad I had a few hours prior caught up with my lower digestive track. And well:

A sounds not unlike a bugle emanated from my ass. I did my best to stifle my laughter, but I think it made things worse, and the young couple below me ended their discourse, and went back inside. Should I have apologized? I think it would have made an awkward situation worse.

So there you have it. My first post of the year. About farting...

IT'S NOT CHRISTMAS UNTIL SOMEONE TAKES THEIR BALLS OUT

Ah yes, the holidays. That lovely time of year when everyone revels in friends, family, food, and frivolous consumption of alcohol.

This Christmas was fairly tame compared to most, certainly much more tame than the "Golden Years" when my Mom's family still lived here. Those people know how to fucking DRINK.

Past incidents included fistfights amongst Uncles and another Uncle (who used to be a Sheriff) playfully aiming his service revolver at his head. Oh, and there was time when my Grandma (God rest her soul) took all of her clothes of and walked around my Aunt's home like nothing was amiss.

Sigh, those were the days.

Without little fan fare the holidays soldiered on this year with only my Dad, my Bro and his GF. Fair enough, sometimes simple celebrations are the best way to go, and with the bat-shit insane weather [if I have to dig my car out one more fucking time!] we've had this week, it's especially practical. None of us even exchanged gifts since we're all hurting for cash. So be it.

It was still a nice Christmas, and I hope yours was too.

THE X-MAS AFTER PARTY

All of the above shouldn't imply that this year's Jesus Birthday wouldn't go out with a bang. After I dropped my Dad off at O'hare, I collapsed on the couch and watched (I can't believe I'm admitting this) 5 hours of "The Real Housewives of Orange County". Forgive me Lord, for I have sinned. Also, I am totally addicted to the trashy BBC soap "Skins". I have no shame. None.

Thankfully I have 3 people friends to RAWK OUT with last night that also seem not be worried about shameless acts. In fact we almost all tried to out-shame one another last night with wildly inappropriate religious jokes, humorous attempts at parallel parking on ice, and physicals acts such as:

[ED: I should note that this one guy "Nick" is an old high school crush]

A. Nick taking his pants off giving us lap-dances.

B. Nick goading me into Bitch Slapping him, which I did with enough force to make his neck hurt.

C. Nick whipping out his balls, which, I was surprised to find out are totally shaved.

D. Oh we drank. Nick, Mark, this girl and I consumed 2 cases of Miller Lite, a half bottle of Jack (thanks Dad!) and a Sixer of PBR.

All in all, a swell time was had by all.

No, that's a waste of sweet, delicious PBR!

My failed attempt to get a shot of Nick's balls.

WHOOPS!

One of the highlights of this recent weekend was that I got to meet up with an old friend from high school who was in town for the weekend. We used to be really close back in the day, in fact she was my date for Senior Prom. For whatever reason we haven't seen or even talked in years. But thanks to the power of Facebook, she tracked me down and we made plans to hang out.

Saturday Night, after spending untold hours at a BBQ, she texted me and said she was in the area. My friend, her friend and I got back to my place, had some drinks, chatted and all that good stuff. She asked about a mutual friend of ours, and I said "oh! check out this funny picture of her on my phone...".

Well then she continued to scroll through my pictures, asking who various people are. "Who's the big guy with the Mohawk?" she asks, and I explain it's a good buddy of mine. And then she scrolls through the phone some more and says "UGH! Who's fucking dick is that!!!?"

F-U-C-K!

Back in June or July I took a picture of my dick for some unknown reason (lie) and had forgotten that it was still on my phone. Thinking quickly I said "oh....um, that's Mohawk Friend's dick, he likes to play practical jokes, [insert nervous laughter here], I told ya, he's a funny guy!"

Then I not so subtly reached for my phone, but my friend's friend snatched it out of her hand to get a closer look and declared, "DAYUM, that's one nice cock for a white boy". They never questioned why a straight friend of mine would take a picture of his Raging Boner with my phone. Thank God...that was close!