IF I EVER HEAR ANOTHER VUVUZELA, I WILL CRY

Wow, so, I made it through World Cup and I have the scars and bruises to prove it. That shit was fucking hard. There were days when I closed the bar at 2AM, got home at 3AM, and had to turn around to be back at 8AM. Some days, 6AM (damn time zones!).

I'm still undecided on how serious Americans are about Soccer (yeah, that's what I call it). Mostly ex-pats were most into it, and they were cool, even if they drink Carlsburg and tip for shit. That game the Germany lost to Spain compelled a group of Germans to ring up $450 in Jager bombs. Predictably they ended up vomitng all over the bathroom. I did not, nor would I clean THAT bullshit up.

After all this I thought I would have gained an appreciation for the "beautiful game". Not so. In fact, if anything it makes me yearn for baseball, and in a strange inverse way, American Football, like NFL. Proper, son. Never been a big fan but I think come this fall I shall be.

Oh, and I'm giving my Adidas/Work Shoes a proper Viking Funeral; they will be doused with lighter fluid and burned to the MOTHERFUCKING ground. Watch for those pictures...soon.

THIS SHOULD NOT BE SO DIFFICULT

Earlier this afternoon I headed over to my buddy's place, so that I could give him and another of our buddies a ride to the airport (they're going to Vegas...assholes!). Any who, they were both equally disheveled from the prior evening's activities as well as the excitement that comes with the attendant nervous anticipation that you are about to have a fucking crazy weekend in Vegas.

Anyways...we were getting ready to depart when the following conversation took place:

ME: "So...which way should we take to O'Hare? The Kennedy or Northwest highway?"

FRIEND #1: "Oh, well, I can drive us there."

ME: "OK...I just thought I was driving you guys..."

FRIEND #1: "No, it's cool, I'll drive, unless you really want to drive."

ME: "I don't give a shit if I drive or not. You can drive, it's your car anyways."

FRIEND #1: "Yeah, no I'll drive. It's all good. [LONG PAUSE] Although I have been drinking Greyhounds for 2 hours."

ME: "I'll drive. It's not a problem."

FRIEND #1: "You sure...I mean, I can drive."

ME: "I'LL FUCKING DRIVE!"

FRIEND #2: (exists bathroom) "What the fuck are you 2 fucking idiots talking about?"

ME & FRIEND #1: (at the same time) "DRIVING!"

Oh, man. When the three of us get together, we become some sort of half baked characters from a shitty Harold Ramis movie. Perhaps to counter program against the awfulness of NYC Prep, I'll pitch the WB a reality show called "CHI-TOWN Morons".

STICKS & STONES

OK...before I get going here, I'd like to address a recent issue. Yesterday I was left a really unfortunate comment, one which I chose not to publish; that being said, I will comment upon it. {original post here} But first, here's the comment:

"Nice bit of hypocrisy there. Drunk as hell but draws the line at poppers. I suppose that means you do have some principles... not sure where you keep them tho."

First off, it's spelled T-H-O-U-G-H. Secondly, choosing not to do drugs I've never tried before, with a random person, in an unusual enviorment, did not, nor still appeals to me. THOUGH I was "drunk as hell" I still had the good sense not to get into a potentially fucked-up situation.

You can question my morals, or lack thereof, or my principals...but don't call me a HYPOCRITE (unless you also would like to labeled as one). And that's not because I'm not one, I am indeed. But you know what? With the right kind of angle, anyone can be viewed as a hypocrite.

Even you.

DON'T TAKE THIS THE WRONG WAY...

...but I could give a flying FUCK about your new shoes, your new car or the "awesome" vacation you just took. I'll direct my frustration convienently at this guy I worked the door with last week at work. "John" is a really nice college kid, who happens to work at a fancy-pants sneaker boutique in Wicker Park. 

His biggest concern in life is how best to subtley advertise the new $200 pair of kicks fresh from Japan without tipping off the owners/employees of the neighboring sneaker boutiques. GOD FORBID THEY LEARN WHEN THEY WILL DROP THEM! 

And here I am, coughing my lungs out, sick as shit, without access to healthcare (i.e., no insurance), 8 years his senior, and with this shitty 1 night a week "job" making $50, and grateful for it. I'm trying to make fucking RENT and EAT; I care NOT about your mylar infused boots that were made specially for YOU in Italy. DICK!

UGH, this is why I haven't been blogging, as I doubt anyone wants to listen to me bitch. [END OF BITCH-FEST-TRANSMISSION.]

YESTERDAY AT THE LIBRARY

Whoa! 3rd post of the day! You must be sick of me by now, but whatever. I have this one quick story to tell about the FUCKING PRICK that works at the library near me. 

Earlier, I had picked up a pass to go to the Art Institute (attention Chicagoan's: if you just get off your ass and visit your local library you can get a pass to see almost any museum for FREE - YAY for culture!).

Although I didn't have to return the pass until next Wednesday, I thought I would be a nice guy and drop it off after I used the it so that someone else can enjoy it.

While standing in line I struck up a conversation with the woman in line behind me. Having noticed she was struggling to carry the mountain of books in her arms, I offered her my place in line. She was thankful...and then the library clerk LOST HIS SHIT. (BTW - I'm only mildly exaggerating when I say he looked like the Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons...) 

Here's what happened next: 

COMIC BOOK GUY: "NEXT!"

WOMEN WHO I GAVE MY PLACE IN LINE TO: "Hello-(abruptly cut off by COMIC BOOK GUY)".

COMIC BOOK GUY: [Looking in my general direction]: "Sir, please step up to the counter."

ME: "Oh, it's OK, I told this woman that she could go ahead of me and-(abruptly cut off by COMIC BOOK GUY)".

COMIC BOOK GUY: "You were next in line."

ME: "Right, but...she has a lot of books and...um..."

COMIC BOOK GUY: "YOU were next in line."

WOMEN WHO I GAVE MY PLACE IN LINE TO: "..."

ME: "..."

COMIC BOOK GUY: "SIR! Please step up and(abruptly cut off by ME)".

ME: "So what, take care of her first, really, I don't mind."

COMIC BOOK GUY: [sweating profusely] "That's NOT how I run things around here!!!"

WOMEN WHO I GAVE MY PLACE IN LINE TO: "..."

ME: "You're kidding right?"

COMIC BOOK GUY: "..."

ME: "Well OK then! I guess you run a pretty tight ship around here. You must be proud of yourself. [INNER THOUGHT: "You fucking failure of a fucking human being"]".

This guy was something else. I wouldn't even say he was a tool. No. He's the fucking metal box on wheels that mechanics use to store their tools. DICK. 

Had I not had to piss so badly I would have thrown that "dick" boomerang right back in his face and asked to speak with his manager. Next time, I'll piss first, instigate a fight and then call him on his bullshit. 

HAPPY 'TALK LIKE A PIRATE DAY 2008'!

Ahoy! Happy Talk Like a Pirate Day! Tis' a fine time to share some Grog with ye Mates...and um, OK, I suck at talking like a pirate. But I will be drinking like a Pirate at my buddies Pirate Party tonight.

I'm told I will be denied entry if I'm not dressed appropriately, however since I have not the proper attire, I figure I can get with dressing like I always do, with the excuse that, well, I am a Butt Pirate.

Ever wondered what your Pirate name is? Neither did I, but apparently it's "Dry Bone Bronson". I beg to differ on the "Dry" part of this name, but I am not going to fight with a Pirate. If you want to know what your Pirate name is, go here.

It's not enough to talk like a pirate today, you also need to know how to pick one up. Therefore, I present to thee, the Top 10 Pirate Pickup Lines:

Top Ten Pickup lines for use on International Talk Like a Pirate Day

10 . Avast, me proud beauty! Wanna know why my Roger is so Jolly?

9. Have ya ever met a man with a real yardarm?

8. Come on up and see me urchins.

7. Yes, that is a hornpipe in my pocket and I am happy to see you.

6. I'd love to drop anchor in your lagoon.

5. Pardon me, but would ya mind if fired me cannon through your porthole?

4. How'd you like to scrape the barnacles off of me rudder?

3. Ya know, darlin’, I’m 97 percent chum free.

2. Well blow me down?

1. Prepare to be boarded.

I plan on using all, or some combination of these lines with Joey the next time we have sex, especially #9 and #5. Classy.