THE UNIVERSE LIKES ME

Where to begin. Well, for one thing, "T" randomly visited me a at work yesterday. I'm not big on surprises, but that was an awesome one. He only stayed for a bit, we shared a smoke and made out in the alley like teenagers. That cute fucker left me with a massive boner. And I was wearing skinny jeans! So insensitive. But AWESOME.

Also, in last night news, I had my iPhone plugged into the sounds system behind the bar, and I tripped on the cord, smashing the glass on the face of said phone. Sucks, however it's over 3 years old, so I ordered up a new one today from AT&T...for 99 cents. Fucking awesome. I even sprang for priority shipping for an extra $5.

I decided to stay home for the holidays; roommate is flying to Poland for 12 days or so (broken ankle and all, but that's another story) and I elected not to join my family-in-law in rural Michigan. And "T" will be in Florida, so it's going to be a quiet one, but I'm really looking forward to it. Can you pronounce "Stay-Cation"?

My only complaint, as I see it, is that the fucking sun has decided to ignore the Chicagoland area this entire week. I'm drinking copious amounts of orange juice to compensate. Also, making out with boys and letting me fuck them. And working my ass off...and taking care of my roommate (she fucked her ankle swing dancing) and dealing with plumbing issues that I won't go into detail about here.

Basically, what I'm getting at, is as the year draws to an end, I hope you and yours had a good one (I didn't) and that next year is WAY BETTER than this one. I'm going to spend the next few days resting my body and my mind, and establishing goals for the next year. The least of which is not working in a fucking bar anymore.

So...H-A-P-P-Y-H-O-L-I-D-A-Y-S. Let's make 2012 a good one!

THINGS WE DON'T WANT SPACE INVADERS TO FIND WHEN THEY EVENTUALLY CONQUER US HUMANS

When this world eventually craps out, and I'm sure it probably will at some point, I was discussing with my friend what we, as humans, do NOT want to be found. Hopefully Al Gore, or whoever is in charge of the internet hits the "delete history" button before the asteroid hits, or we experience a massive melt down, or something else worse. Here's a partial list, off the cuff, of the shit we don't want found.

-Paris Hilton's sex tape

-People, US Weekly and/or Cosmo Girl magazines

-Flip Flops

-Donald Trump

-Nicorette Gum

-AOL

-The Black Eyed Peas

-Los Angeles

-Arena Football

-The Hello Kitty toaster

-Tanning Booths

-Paris Hilton

-Lottery tickets

-Karaoke

-Ted Haggerd

-Star Wars

-Wine in a box

-Topaz jewelry

-Bongs

-Space Shuttle(s)

-Pictionary

-Hallmark cards

-Cinnamon

-Hard Rock Cafe t-shirts

-Comcast

-Starbucks

-The Sunday Chicago Tribune

-MTV

-CATS the musical

-Dick Cheney

-Cadillac Pick-Up Trucks

-Land Mines

-World's Best Grandpa coffee mugs

-Crossword puzzles

-Meth labs

-Pop Tarts

-Alf

-Cirque Du Soleil

-Best/Worst Dressed Lists

-Competitive cooking TV shows

-Red Light cameras

-Wal-Mart

-The 80's

-My high school year book pictures

-Blue Men Group

-Lawyers

-The color teal

-Carnival cruise ships

-Branson, Missouri

-White Power

-The Military Industrial Complex

-Temporary tattoos

-Lean Cuisine

-Drive Time radio DJ's

-The Super Bowl

-IKEA

-Anti-Gay marriage laws

-Khaki pants

-Iced coffee

-The British Monarchy

-Corporate synergy

-The Dallas Cowboys

-Sloppy Joes

SO, you see, this is only a partial list, and I'm sure I left many things off it. Feel free to add your items/thoughts to the "we don't need this fucking shit to be found" register. Also, feel free to make a bet on the last man standing when civilization implodes. I got $20 on Richard Simmons. Fuck, for all I now Paula Dean will outlive anyone reading this.

WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP

This morning I was reading yesterday's Tribune while laying in bed; the front page headline was "Winter Blues" with dramatic type-face and several graphics. The article went on to point out the "one-two" of last week's blizzard and this week's sub-arctic temperatures. Why this is news worthy is beyond me. I could have written that article with my iPhone while waiting for the fucking Western #49 bus.

Anyways, I have noticed friends and co-workers submitting to this very real phenomenon (myself included).Having said that, I've been trying to fight it my being creative in a way that only a 12 year old can be. Case in point, I was drinking a beer with a co-worker after my shift ended and we kept calling the bar's land line, watching a random person scramble to answer it, only to hang up on them. Not mature behavior but fucking hilarious (you had to be there).

My point is, to battle the regular expected depression that is endemic this time of year, DO FUCKING SOMETHING. Even if it's a stupid idea of fun, or attending a political fund-raiser (this Sunday) or putting your balls in a stranger's mouth. DO SOMETHING. Invent your reality. That's my Dr. Phil-ish advice. Take it, leave it, piss on it or set it on fire. Or all the above.

A TRIFECTA OF HOTNESS

I keep a large "in-box" of sorts, an object that collects my various forms of bullshit (bills, snapshots, etc) that I don't want to deal with. In the past I've been a champ at keeping it current, and throwing out old shit. Not so much as of late.

So, since it was so insanely cold on Monday I shifted through it and made a serious discovery; I cracked some sort of AWESOME GAY DNA, or more specifically, I think I provided a blueprint for my "perfect" man.

First off, here's a picture of my Gay Trifecta, which is located just left of where I'm typing these words. It's a welcome reminder, and all of which were buried along with Comcast bills and such. For whatever reason I decided to hang them up.

BODY/ASS

I've gone on record before as being an Ass-Man, in that I love me some Man Booty. I also have a thing about back muscles. That shit is hot as hell. And I'm a sucker for guys in tight jeans, so this image largely incorporates all these elements. Thank you, to the Marketing Department at Levi's.

FACE/STYLE

This might trump the importance of having a fantastic ass/body; I'm clearly no fashion whore, but a little bit goes a long way, and dudes that overdress themselves un-attract me. Less is more is my overall fashion atheistic (see above). That being said, I desire a least some semblance of of substance.

MIDWEST/BASEBALL, ETC

This guy here makes me sigh. Really. A former Cubs fan that now embraces the Sox, his smile is just so fucking cute. I need a down to earth/salt of the earth type, so let's add a pinch this of this hotness into my Gay equation. Toothy grins? Major fucking plus.

IN CONCLUSION

Will I ever discover such a perfect amalgamation of hotness? Not likely. But I'm slowly finding out what I want/attracted to, and I think that's progress. If it's not entirely obvious, I'm once again single and wandering amongst the wilderness of romantic-ness. A boy can dream, right? Where is this "man"?

SINGLE LIT WINDOW

It's past 3AM as I bathe in the glow of this monitor while stressing the abilities of my contact lenses to focus my eyes; from what I can see around me, mine is the only window lit by light. And the song passing through my headphones goes like this:

yellow is the color of my true love's crossbow

yellow is the color of the sun

black is the color of 

a strangled rainbow

the color of my loss

and black is the color of my true love's arrow

that's the color of my blood

-Elvis Perkins "Shampoo"

Don't get me wrong...I'm not going "full-emo", but I have had a few drinks while ruminating on a week both quiet and tumultuous. Also, I'm attempting to stay up as late as possible so that I can sleep in and not be sleepy while at work tomorrow night. I might just have to yell at some asshole NOT to piss on my car again. Fuckers.  

NOTE to self: DO NOT get wasted on St. Patty's Day with an EX that I still have feelings for. I'm not exaggerating when I say I prevented my thumbs from texting him every day since I last saw him way back in October. We finally made plans to hang last Tuesday, not realizing at the time that it was said holiday. 

The least said the better...but after power-washing my emotions with many tears I feel better. That's all I'll say about that, although I should add I think that any residual feelings I had are gone (wishful thinking), which hurts like a bitch, but...what other choice do I have? 

Although...and it may or not be related, but the dreaded night terrors have returned; last night I had the most fucked up suite of "dreams" that I hope to never have again. UGH. Maybe I was just shedding some emotional "skin". I felt much better having taken a nice afternoon jaunt on the local expressways after I got out of bed; that always makes me feel better.

Speaking of feeling better about shit, I've been hitting up the gym like WHOA. Just sitting here makes me feel sore, but a good sore (and whiskey seems to make these old bones feel better - that and reruns of Queer as Folk). Even Hot-Roomie commented on my new-found commitment not to be lazy...  

Fuck me...there are a few other somewhat major things that would have forced a lesser person to purchase a firearm for reasons "non-defensive", and yet, in the midst of shit piling up around my ankles, I still refuse NOT to maintain a positive attitude. By no means am I "happy-go-lucky", and to do so would be an intentional act of folly. But I sincerely believe tomorrow will be better than today. It can't NOT be.

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS A LAMBORGHINI GALLARDO LP560-4

Dear Santa Claus,

I have been a (relatively) good boy all year. Any "mistakes" I have made, I think, are outweighed by the random piles of bullshit that have been thrown at me. Whether my car got sideswiped, or I got hit my a car or having various personal relationships not work, to say nothing of professional ones that result in termination, it's been anything BUT an easy year.

That's OK though. I am not wallowing in self pity. The actions I have taken will allow me to get on for some time in a mostly continuous fashion...with one exception. My unemployment benefits, while generous, would be even more so had I not a car payment to make. So, here's my idea; I don't ant any presents this Christmas, except for one:

Yes, I know it's a bit pricey, but I will gladly forgo having to make the monthly payments on my Acura, in exchange for this most modest of Lamborghini. And not to be picky, but can I have one in dark charcoal with orange leather? And if it's not too much trouble, please murder out those rims too. With matte paint.

Just listen to that V-10 wail!

Thanks!

Justin/Guy From Chicago

THE HOTTIES IN THE BAR

Another of my awesome high school girlfriend's (emphasis on "friend") was in town last night, and I met up with her and a bunch of her friends at a trendy, little, hipster hole in the wall bar on the West Side. Nice enough place, but it was way too crowded, stiflingly and way too loud. The guitar player in this band kept jumping off stage and getting all up in my grill, so we decided to go to the shitty dump bar across the street.

Dive bars...oh how I love thee. $2 boiler makers and $1 pints of Old Style. Total Chicago shit. The crowd was a mixture of hipsters trying way to hard to look cool, random crusty old timers and low level gang bangers. A nice cross section, if you ask me. Out of all of the people there, I noted 2 hotties. One looked a bit like Justin from the American Queer as Folk, and the other guy looked like a hipster version of Kyan Douglas. Hot. He had a sweet ass too, the type you bounce quarters off of if one was so inclined (I was but I didn't have any change).

Anyways, my friend Liz, her friends and I were busy getting drunk and playing around. Liz put someone's pink scarf around me and we were "dancing" when the Kyan Douglas look-alike approaches...ME! I shit you not he says "hey man, want to join my friend and I (the cute blond Justin look-alike) at our table?" At first I was confused because this was about the furthest thing away from being a gay bar, and he didn't look gay. Not even a little bit...

...but Liz and her friends we all about it. I took a piss and was getting another Jack 'n Coke when Liz says he keeps looking over at me. At this point I was drunk enough to say "fuck it" and I went over to hang with the hotties. "Kyan" was totally drunk but he kept mentioning that he only lives 3 blocks away. I'm thinking, oh HELL YEAH, bring this shit on! It was soon after revealed that the blond "Justin" was his Roomie (3-some!) but that he has a girlfriend (damnit!).

My friends were getting their shit together to leave but they encouraged me to stay...so I did. Sadly, soon afterwards, the 2 hotties decided they were tuckered out and were heading home. I was thinking of offering the guy my number or something, but I didn't. Something about the guy just seemed...off, and my days of picking random guys at bars are behind me. Really. Not that I won't ever do it again, and perhaps I would have if I was 100% sure he was a 'mo, but I really don't think he was.

Fucking random!

THE RETURN OF NICK

It's always a surprise when a guy that I had a crush on in high school randomly shows up at place, (Don't even get me started about this smokin' hot Polish guy from the South Side that told me he was training to become a Chicago Fire Fighter) and yesterday was no different.

I've written about Poker Night with Nick before and how he got really touchy-feely/drunk and how it kinda freaked me out.

Well, yesterday my buddy brings Nick over. I'm hanging with a group of Post-Cubs-Game-Friends (i.e. drunk) and he just appears standing in my kitchen, ray of bright sunlight illuminating his blue eyes. And no, I do not write gay fiction although for a second, it felt like I was living out one of those cheesy fantasies. Holy Shit! Nick is Here! Fuck is he Hot!

After snapping back to reality he asked me to make him a Jack n' Coke and I happily obliged. Within 5 minutes he made some random illusion to me being gay. Not in a negative way, mind you, but along the lines of "I guess the stereotype is true, all gay guys really ARE clean freaks" (for the record my place was really not that clean - my Post-Cubs-Game-Friends made sure of that).

After kicking out Post-Cubs-Game-Friends, the 3 of us remaining (Nick included, obviously) set out for the street festival taking place in my 'hood. The Name of This Game is about drinking beer, and lots of it. I still had my awesome plastic beer stein from last year and paid $8 to fill it up. My buddy takes off for the bathroom and Nick and I are standing amongst the crowd of people when he says:

NICK: "...DAMN that bitch is hot! I'd hit that!"
ME: "Totally, if I was straight I'd tap 'dat ass [laughing manically on the inside]."
NICK: "Dude, you're so NOT gay."
ME: "Ugh, pretty sure I am, I mean, I like making out with dudes, giving them head and fucking dudes...I think that qualifies me as being gay."
NICK: "OK - I want you to pick out a hot girl and a guy you think is hot."
ME: "Word - aight, she that burnette with big tits, an ass thats smiling at you and wearing annoying platform sandals?"
NICK: "Agreed - that bitch is hot!"
ME: [searching nervously for a hot guy] "...um....I don't see any hot guys..."
NICK: "HA! See - totally not gay. See that guy (gestures to a fugly guy wearing all black)? I think he's sorta hot."
ME: "The Fuck? You have awful taste in men."
NICK: "And you have suspiciously good taste in women."
ME: "Just because I'm gay doesn't mean that I'm blind."
NICK: "Prove it."
ME: "Prove that I'm not fucking blind?"
NICK: "No, prove that you're gay."
ME: "Look, I'm not making out with some random guy to prove to you that I'm gay."
NICK: "...'cuz you're straight..."
ME: "OK - [leans in to Nick's face] ..."
NICK: "HAHAHA - FUCK YOU!"
ME: "Would sucking your dick make you believe me?"
NICK: [seems to actually think about it for a moment] "No, I don't think my girlfriend would like that."
ME: [lowers right eyebrow] "She never has to know..."

And with that we clink our plastic beer steins together and in front of many dozen unsuspecting people, I get on my knees and open his zipper with my teeth and bring Nick to the brink of O-Town before stopping and giving him the worst set of blue-balls ever.

OK - obviously that last sentence is my dirty mind turning it's gears, but that's what I wish actually happened. Oh well.

I really do, however, think that he some sort of latent bi-sexuality that he wants to explore. And you know what? I'd be more than willing to accommodate him because even 10 years later, I would still totally and utterly TAP 'DAT ASS!