First off I would like to thank the creator of spell check. Its not that I wouldn't be able to write this post without it. Its just that it made it possible for me not to look like an uneducated idiot. I also should mention that I have had a few of beers and quite a bit of tequila, whiskey and John Daniels. So needless to say I am three sheets to the wind. I don't actually like that analogy. I am feeling no pain. Another loss of intelligible wit. How about just plain being honest? I am a little bit drunk.
But lets get to the meaning of this post in the first place. I am writing this because I have been a complete ass and have not been updating this thing as I had previously stated that I would. So once again, I am going to update everyone on my current life and mental state. I am actually doing alright I guess. I am currently looking for a new job and have some things on the burner that may come together soon. I am ready to start something fresh and new.
The only major thing in my life that is currently bugging me is that I am at my wits end with stupid drunk short guys that feel the need to express their Napoleon syndrome in my direction. I have to say that I am not the worlds smallest man. I am not huge by any means, but I am not small. So for some reason, these ridiculous douche bags that you find at every Chicago bar think it is appropriate to get in my face for no reason to prove their manhood. I have been very good about taking a deep breathe and counting to ten. I have not flipped out and done something that could put my ass in jail. But I am close to being willing to take that place in a cell. I am done with douche bags that feel the need to still be that frat guy that you see with the popped collar ordering nothing but jager bombs for his friends and trying to slip a rufee into the nearest girls drink.
A couple weeks ago, it was a guy at a Michigan vs Michigan State football party. Sorry to spoil it for you, but Michigan lost, and I was quite happy about it. Next thing I know, my brother is outside having some words with some guy because hs was talking shit about me when I wasn't even around. Yeah, that makes sense. Don't come up and say something to my face. I can't imagine talking shit to a bunch of people you don't know just to realize that you are talking shit about a guy that everyone at the party has known for years. This is not a good idea. I think that is pretty self explanatory. So I get pulled a way from a beer pong game to this 5 foot 2 douche that has been talking shit. Because he wants to apologize. Then as now, I had a few drinks in me. he rambled on as a couple of his friends tried to talk me down. But my mind kept telling me, don't do it. Do not hit this guy. You are at your brothers house and that's the last place that you want to start shit. And to be honest withing being cocky about it. He was a little guy with about three friends with him. I on the other hand am not small, as previously mentioned, and had probably about 12 guys that had my back. So I told him that he needed to watch his mouth when he was around people he didn't know and that if he was any kind of man that he would talk shit to somebodys face instead of behind their back. That's a typical U of M fan for you.
The next incident, Or Strike 2 as I will refer to it, needs to have a disclaimer attached to it. I in no way, shape, or form have a problem with people who are different then me. In this case, this person just so happened to be a "little person". I think that is the politically correct way of saying it. I was sitting at a table at the bar with some friends. And the "little person" was quite cocky and came up to the table and started talking to the girls at our table while leaning on me. He started making comments about how they needed to hang out with him and his friends because they were more physically fit, as he started to rub my stomach. This is one of those situations that I took a deep breathe and counted. I got myself to calm down and he walked back to his group. he did return that night one more time and talked just as much shit. But I was torn. I really wanted to just swing and end the whole thing there. But that could have been larger complications then I originally thought. I am serious that he was only like two and a half feet tall. I couldn't do it. Upon further thought after the incident I decided I definitely should have stood out and cracked one of his friends square in the jaw and pointed at him letting him know that it was his fault. Now that would have been great.
So as you read these stories, please feel free to look back through the other shit that has happened in the last year. I seem to attract crazy people and idiots. Kind of like tonight when we were all at dinner at some Thai place and a homeless guy walked right up to our table when we got our food and started asking us for money. I have to say that I am not totally against helping a homeless guy out. But that's definitely not the way to convince me. So I called him down to my end of the table, gave him a smoke and let him know it was time to go. Just before the manager came over and asked him to leave. I attract stupid shit. So this is my main message, I am down with stupid people. There are currently two strikes in the last month and I honestly don't know if I am going to restrain myself for that third strike. I am going to be ready to live up to the consequences. I may get my ass kicked, I may spend the night in the drunk tank. But I will have a wide ass smile across my face the whole time. I will finally be able to let all of that shit out.
I know I have said it before, but I am going to try and write more. I sincerely miss just being able to put this stuff out here. And if anyone has any anger management advice or places that I should stay away from so I don't run into a pack of frat guys with complexes, let me know.
Cheers
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Further Explanation Needed
Andy Kaufman was a genius. There is potential that I could say, Andy Kaufman is a genius. There are many people out there like myself that still think there is a chance that Andy Kaufman is still alive. He wasn't you normal comedian. He didn't just want to get a laugh out of people. He wanted to get a reaction. It didn't matter if it was a good reaction or a hostile reaction.
The last couple of weeks I have been obsessed with reading about Kaufman and the characters that he played. Twice last week, I went to see Tony Clifton play the Chopin Theatre in Chicago. I have to say that it was everything that I could have hoped for. I can remember seeing Andy on TV for years. Whether it was a re-run of something he did on Saturday Night Live or a special about his life. Tony Clifton wasn't someone I knew before he co-starred in "Man on the Moon", the movie about the life of Andy Kaufman. Tony Clifton was by far, the best live show I have ever seen. And the two shows were very different.
The last post was kind of a play on Kaufman's Great Gatsby bit. On some occasions, audiences would show up to one of Kaufman's stage performances expecting to see him perform as Latka from Taxi, and heckling him with demands when he did not. Kaufman would punish these audiences with the announcement that he was going to read The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald to them. The audience would laugh at this, not realizing that he was serious and would proceed to read the book to them, continuing despite audience members' departure. At a certain point, he would ask the audience if they wanted him to keep reading, or play a record. When the audience chose to hear the record, the record he cued up was a recording of him continuing to read The Great Gatsby from where he had left off.
Tony Clifton did a great showing while singing Gordon Lightfoot's "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" with full video clips, pictures and the actual recordings of the radio transmissions. For some reason, it really stuck in my head. So I decided to make a little experiment of my own.
I wrote that post about the Edmond Fitzgerald and its tie to the current economy first off, because I thought it was funny that those were the two other ships' names. And secondly because I wanted to see if I could get a reaction out of readers. There aren't any comments posted, but I received emails telling me that they couldn't even make it through the post without wondering why I was rambling. In one instance, a co-worker turned to me an hour after I wrote it (during my lunch break) and asked if she had to keep reading. To me, it was a small success.
If you have never heard of Andy Kaufman or Tony Clifton, please rent "Man on the Moon". It will change the way you look at comedy. Its not just about getting you to laugh out loud. The real question is, who was it that was performing as Tony Clifton? Is he real? Was it Bob Zmuda? Or was it actually Andy Kaufman coming back to enjoy his work after a 25 year long practical joke? Who really knows?
But in the words of Tony Clifton:
"Don't know nothin' about no Andy. Just some dead guy tryin' to ride my coattails.
Let's HIT IT, boys! One, two, anda one two three four!"
The last couple of weeks I have been obsessed with reading about Kaufman and the characters that he played. Twice last week, I went to see Tony Clifton play the Chopin Theatre in Chicago. I have to say that it was everything that I could have hoped for. I can remember seeing Andy on TV for years. Whether it was a re-run of something he did on Saturday Night Live or a special about his life. Tony Clifton wasn't someone I knew before he co-starred in "Man on the Moon", the movie about the life of Andy Kaufman. Tony Clifton was by far, the best live show I have ever seen. And the two shows were very different.
The last post was kind of a play on Kaufman's Great Gatsby bit. On some occasions, audiences would show up to one of Kaufman's stage performances expecting to see him perform as Latka from Taxi, and heckling him with demands when he did not. Kaufman would punish these audiences with the announcement that he was going to read The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald to them. The audience would laugh at this, not realizing that he was serious and would proceed to read the book to them, continuing despite audience members' departure. At a certain point, he would ask the audience if they wanted him to keep reading, or play a record. When the audience chose to hear the record, the record he cued up was a recording of him continuing to read The Great Gatsby from where he had left off.
Tony Clifton did a great showing while singing Gordon Lightfoot's "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" with full video clips, pictures and the actual recordings of the radio transmissions. For some reason, it really stuck in my head. So I decided to make a little experiment of my own.
I wrote that post about the Edmond Fitzgerald and its tie to the current economy first off, because I thought it was funny that those were the two other ships' names. And secondly because I wanted to see if I could get a reaction out of readers. There aren't any comments posted, but I received emails telling me that they couldn't even make it through the post without wondering why I was rambling. In one instance, a co-worker turned to me an hour after I wrote it (during my lunch break) and asked if she had to keep reading. To me, it was a small success.
If you have never heard of Andy Kaufman or Tony Clifton, please rent "Man on the Moon". It will change the way you look at comedy. Its not just about getting you to laugh out loud. The real question is, who was it that was performing as Tony Clifton? Is he real? Was it Bob Zmuda? Or was it actually Andy Kaufman coming back to enjoy his work after a 25 year long practical joke? Who really knows?
But in the words of Tony Clifton:
"Don't know nothin' about no Andy. Just some dead guy tryin' to ride my coattails.
Let's HIT IT, boys! One, two, anda one two three four!"
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
We Are Holding Our Own
Currently the US economy is not in the greatest that it has ever been. I will not go as far as a lot of other people have and use the "R" word, because it is simply not true. Is there a potential for it to happen, yes? But just remember that last quarter, the economy as a whole still had a growth. It is a very very small amount of growth, but growth none the less. There have been hundreds of books and articles written about the economy. Hundreds of thousands of hours of TV dedicated to breaking each little point down. Analysts and politicians and everyday people have been interviewed over and over and over again. But it seems that everyone is dodging the real reason why the economy is in a little bit of a downturn. Well, I for one am not going to just sit back and not talk about it. I am not afraid of the backlash or the damage to my reputation that this may bring. I am ready to face the consequences. So here we go. The reason for the current economic downturn is that the spirits that still haunt The Great Lakes from the mysterious and tragic sinking of the SS Edmund Fitzgerald are wreaking havoc on those that were not there in time to save them..........You look confused.
Lets roll back tape then for a history lesson. Its kind of like when you were in grade school and you would watch an educational documentary. The teacher would turn the lights off and you would all sit there with the reel to reel going watching some blotchy movie while trying not to fall asleep or stare at the girl next to you too much. So hit the lights. This is what that cheesy documentary would sound like if it was written by the same people who wrote about it on Wikipedia.
On February 1, 1957, Northwestern Mutual Life Insurance Company of Milwaukee, Wisconsin contracted Great Lakes Engineering Works (GLEW), of River Rouge, Michigan, to design and build an ore bulk carrier lake freighter for Northwestern. The contract contained the stipulation that the boat be the largest on the Great Lakes. GLEW laid the keel on August 7 of that year, and some time between then and her christening and launch on June 8, 1958, Northwestern announced their decision to name the boat for their President and Chairman of the Board, Edmund Fitzgerald, whose own father had himself been a lake captain. For the next 17 years, the Fitzgerald carried taconite from mines near Duluth, Minnesota to iron works in Detroit, Toledo and other ports. Prior to the events of November 9, 1975, she suffered five collisions, running aground in 1969, colliding with the S.S. Hochelaga in 1970 and then striking the wall of a lock later in the same year, hitting a lock's wall again in 1973, and then again the following year. She also lost her original bow anchor in the Detroit River in 1974.
Fitzgerald left Superior Wisconsin on the afternoon of Sunday, November 9, 1975 under Captain Ernest M. McSorley. She was en route to the steel mill on Zug Island, near Detroit, Michigan, with a full cargo of taconite. A second freighter, Arthur M. Anderson, destined for Gary, Indiana out of Two Harbors, Minnesota, joined up with Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald, being the faster ship, took the lead while Anderson trailed not far behind.
Crossing Lake Superior at about 13 knots the boats encountered a massive winter storm, reporting winds in excess of 50 knots and waves as high as 35 feet. Because of the storm, the Soo Locks at Sault Ste. Marie were closed. The freighters altered their courses northward, seeking shelter along the Canadian coast. Later, they would cross to Whitefish Bay to approach the locks.
Late in the afternoon of Monday, November 10, sustained winds of 50 knots were observed across eastern Lake Superior. Anderson was struck by a 75-knot hurricane force gust. At 3:30 PM Fitzgerald radioed Anderson to report a minor list developing and top-side damage including the loss of radar. Visibility was poor due to heavy snow, and the Coast Guard warned all ships to find safe harbor. Fitzgerald's two bilge pumps were running continuously to discharge shipped water. The lighthouse and navigational radio beacon at Whitefish Point had also been knocked out by the storm. Fitzgerald was ahead of Anderson at the time, effectively blind, therefore, she slowed to come within 10 miles range so she could receive radar guidance from the other ship.
For a time Anderson directed the Fitzgerald toward the relative safety of Whitefish Bay. At 5:45PM, Captain McSorley radioed another ship, Avafors, to report that Fitzgerald was suffering a bad list, had lost her radars, and had seas washing over her decks. McSorley described the situation as, "One of the worst seas I've ever been in."
The last communication from the doomed ship came at approximately 7:10 PM, when Anderson notified Fitzgerald of being hit by rogue waves large enough to be caught on radar, that were heading Fitzgerald's way, and asked how she was doing. McSorley reported, "We are holding our own." A few minutes later, she apparently sank; no distress signal was received. Ten minutes later Anderson could neither raise Fitzgerald by radio, nor detect her on radar. At 8:32 PM, Anderson informed the U.S. Coast Guard of its concern for the ship.
Once Anderson noted the loss of Fitzgerald, a search was launched for survivors. The initial search consisted of the Arthur M. Anderson, and a second freighter, SS William Clay Ford. The efforts of a third freighter, the Canadian vessel Hilda Marjanne, were foiled by the weather. The U.S. Coast Guard launched three aircraft, but could not mobilize any ships. A Coast Guard buoy tender, Woodrush, was able to launch within two and a half hours, but took a day to arrive. The search recovered debris, including lifeboats and rafts, but no survivors.
See, it makes sense now right? Probably not, but lets give it a try. As it was told to me, the two ships that went looking for survivors had held back for a while waiting for the weather to continue to break. They sat back waiting knowing that their cohorts, friends and fellow crew members could be in trouble or in dire need of their help. When they finally arrived they found no survivors. Could they have found survivors if they would have gotten there earlier? It is quite possible but we will never know. So my theory is that the spiritual presence of the tragic loss that day is wreaking havoc on the US economy to get its revenge. Not necessarily the economy as a whole, but key pieces of it.
Look at the names of the ships that hesitated and then finally went to their rescue, the SS Arthur M. Andersen and the SS William Clay Ford. Arthur Andersen LLP, based in Chicago, was once one of the "Big Five" accounting firms among PricewaterhouseCoopers, Deloitte Touche, Ernst & Young and KPMG, providing auditing, tax, and consulting services to large corporations. In 2002, the firm voluntarily surrendered its licenses to practice as Certified Public Accountants in the United States after being found guilty of criminal charges relating to the firm's handling of the auditing of Enron, the energy corporation, resulting in the loss of 85,000 jobs. Although the verdict was subsequently overturned by the Supreme Court of the United States, it has not returned as a viable business. This also brought about devastating ramifications on other large once respected companies and the SOX Compliance Act of 2001. And as a former resident of Michigan I can not even bear to tell the tales of Ford and Detroit.
But it is ironic that the Edmund Fitzgerald was heading to Zug Island in Detroit, take a look in the news and see how Zug Island is holding up. I am sure you don't even need to look up how Detroit is doing in the paper. Plus you can save the money you would have used to buy the paper and buy a house in Detroit instead as one was just sold for $1. The other sense of irony is that the Anderson was heading to Gary, Indiana. And anyone that has driven to Chicago from Michigan before can tell you that you know when you are getting close because you can smell Gary, Indiana on your way in. Oh yeah, and don't forget that they rank Detroit as the most dangerous city in the country and Gary Indiana comes in at number 17.
If you ask me, they shouldn't have hesitated. Not just because of the above mentioned consequences, but because they should have had a sense of comradery. They should have gone after their friends. I never realized the depth of this story until someone I had never even met until a few nights ago brought it to my attention. That person was none other then Tony Clifton, legendary singer that has sold more albums then the Beatles and Elvis combined. But that's a story for another post.
Lets roll back tape then for a history lesson. Its kind of like when you were in grade school and you would watch an educational documentary. The teacher would turn the lights off and you would all sit there with the reel to reel going watching some blotchy movie while trying not to fall asleep or stare at the girl next to you too much. So hit the lights. This is what that cheesy documentary would sound like if it was written by the same people who wrote about it on Wikipedia.
On February 1, 1957, Northwestern Mutual Life Insurance Company of Milwaukee, Wisconsin contracted Great Lakes Engineering Works (GLEW), of River Rouge, Michigan, to design and build an ore bulk carrier lake freighter for Northwestern. The contract contained the stipulation that the boat be the largest on the Great Lakes. GLEW laid the keel on August 7 of that year, and some time between then and her christening and launch on June 8, 1958, Northwestern announced their decision to name the boat for their President and Chairman of the Board, Edmund Fitzgerald, whose own father had himself been a lake captain. For the next 17 years, the Fitzgerald carried taconite from mines near Duluth, Minnesota to iron works in Detroit, Toledo and other ports. Prior to the events of November 9, 1975, she suffered five collisions, running aground in 1969, colliding with the S.S. Hochelaga in 1970 and then striking the wall of a lock later in the same year, hitting a lock's wall again in 1973, and then again the following year. She also lost her original bow anchor in the Detroit River in 1974.
Fitzgerald left Superior Wisconsin on the afternoon of Sunday, November 9, 1975 under Captain Ernest M. McSorley. She was en route to the steel mill on Zug Island, near Detroit, Michigan, with a full cargo of taconite. A second freighter, Arthur M. Anderson, destined for Gary, Indiana out of Two Harbors, Minnesota, joined up with Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald, being the faster ship, took the lead while Anderson trailed not far behind.
Crossing Lake Superior at about 13 knots the boats encountered a massive winter storm, reporting winds in excess of 50 knots and waves as high as 35 feet. Because of the storm, the Soo Locks at Sault Ste. Marie were closed. The freighters altered their courses northward, seeking shelter along the Canadian coast. Later, they would cross to Whitefish Bay to approach the locks.
Late in the afternoon of Monday, November 10, sustained winds of 50 knots were observed across eastern Lake Superior. Anderson was struck by a 75-knot hurricane force gust. At 3:30 PM Fitzgerald radioed Anderson to report a minor list developing and top-side damage including the loss of radar. Visibility was poor due to heavy snow, and the Coast Guard warned all ships to find safe harbor. Fitzgerald's two bilge pumps were running continuously to discharge shipped water. The lighthouse and navigational radio beacon at Whitefish Point had also been knocked out by the storm. Fitzgerald was ahead of Anderson at the time, effectively blind, therefore, she slowed to come within 10 miles range so she could receive radar guidance from the other ship.
For a time Anderson directed the Fitzgerald toward the relative safety of Whitefish Bay. At 5:45PM, Captain McSorley radioed another ship, Avafors, to report that Fitzgerald was suffering a bad list, had lost her radars, and had seas washing over her decks. McSorley described the situation as, "One of the worst seas I've ever been in."
The last communication from the doomed ship came at approximately 7:10 PM, when Anderson notified Fitzgerald of being hit by rogue waves large enough to be caught on radar, that were heading Fitzgerald's way, and asked how she was doing. McSorley reported, "We are holding our own." A few minutes later, she apparently sank; no distress signal was received. Ten minutes later Anderson could neither raise Fitzgerald by radio, nor detect her on radar. At 8:32 PM, Anderson informed the U.S. Coast Guard of its concern for the ship.
Once Anderson noted the loss of Fitzgerald, a search was launched for survivors. The initial search consisted of the Arthur M. Anderson, and a second freighter, SS William Clay Ford. The efforts of a third freighter, the Canadian vessel Hilda Marjanne, were foiled by the weather. The U.S. Coast Guard launched three aircraft, but could not mobilize any ships. A Coast Guard buoy tender, Woodrush, was able to launch within two and a half hours, but took a day to arrive. The search recovered debris, including lifeboats and rafts, but no survivors.
See, it makes sense now right? Probably not, but lets give it a try. As it was told to me, the two ships that went looking for survivors had held back for a while waiting for the weather to continue to break. They sat back waiting knowing that their cohorts, friends and fellow crew members could be in trouble or in dire need of their help. When they finally arrived they found no survivors. Could they have found survivors if they would have gotten there earlier? It is quite possible but we will never know. So my theory is that the spiritual presence of the tragic loss that day is wreaking havoc on the US economy to get its revenge. Not necessarily the economy as a whole, but key pieces of it.
Look at the names of the ships that hesitated and then finally went to their rescue, the SS Arthur M. Andersen and the SS William Clay Ford. Arthur Andersen LLP, based in Chicago, was once one of the "Big Five" accounting firms among PricewaterhouseCoopers, Deloitte Touche, Ernst & Young and KPMG, providing auditing, tax, and consulting services to large corporations. In 2002, the firm voluntarily surrendered its licenses to practice as Certified Public Accountants in the United States after being found guilty of criminal charges relating to the firm's handling of the auditing of Enron, the energy corporation, resulting in the loss of 85,000 jobs. Although the verdict was subsequently overturned by the Supreme Court of the United States, it has not returned as a viable business. This also brought about devastating ramifications on other large once respected companies and the SOX Compliance Act of 2001. And as a former resident of Michigan I can not even bear to tell the tales of Ford and Detroit.
But it is ironic that the Edmund Fitzgerald was heading to Zug Island in Detroit, take a look in the news and see how Zug Island is holding up. I am sure you don't even need to look up how Detroit is doing in the paper. Plus you can save the money you would have used to buy the paper and buy a house in Detroit instead as one was just sold for $1. The other sense of irony is that the Anderson was heading to Gary, Indiana. And anyone that has driven to Chicago from Michigan before can tell you that you know when you are getting close because you can smell Gary, Indiana on your way in. Oh yeah, and don't forget that they rank Detroit as the most dangerous city in the country and Gary Indiana comes in at number 17.
If you ask me, they shouldn't have hesitated. Not just because of the above mentioned consequences, but because they should have had a sense of comradery. They should have gone after their friends. I never realized the depth of this story until someone I had never even met until a few nights ago brought it to my attention. That person was none other then Tony Clifton, legendary singer that has sold more albums then the Beatles and Elvis combined. But that's a story for another post.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Red Pill or the Blue Pill?
Its kind of strange to look back through your life when a life changing event happens in the life of someone from your past. Someone that was very close to you but has since been removed from your life either voluntarily or involuntarily. How did it come about? What were the chain of events that led to that happening? Somewhere down the line of fate, was I involved? These are questions that can never be answered. To me that is a shame. I have always said that I would rather know something then not know. I would rather know if one of my friends stabbed me in the back or if a co-worker is spreading a rumor. I want to know if a girl I am interested in does not feel the same way or if a potential job thinks I'm an idiot. But some questions can never to be answered. You can not go back in time and find these answers. And you can especially not ask someone else to go back and find these answers for you.
You may already be asking, where I am going to take this one? Well follow me down the wormhole and we will see just how far it goes. Sorry for the really lame Matrix quote but the title will make since despite my cheesy attempt to make a movie reference. So let me start to explain. Within the last few weeks an long term ex-girlfriend of mine got married. I am going to come out and say that I have not been crying myself to sleep or letting it dwell on my thoughts for days. It is simply something that has made me think back in time and recollect on how things were and how they would have been if I made different choices.
So lets go back in history and I'll que you in to how things used to be in your ole friend The Hitman's life. There I was just a ray of sunshine in high school. Yes, I was the kid sitting at the front of the class with my notes and homework ready every day and would always raise my hand for questions. I am glad that you can't see my face because I couldn't keep a straight face while even typing that. I was the kid in the back of the class that was asleep everyday except for test days and when projects were due. I was the kid walking through the halls half asleep with a big red spot of my forehead from having my head down on my arm for the last hour. I did good in school but didn't really care too much. I didn't care about school and I didn't care much for my job either. But then I met her and I finally cared. She worked with me at one of those large chain retail stores. We were friends for about a year and a half and then we started dating. We dated for about three and a half years before things went sour and that was that. I do not feel the need to get into all the gritty details of how things went sour and how I knew for a while that it would happen. But it did and I have to say that I learned a lot from the whole experience. I also learned a lot about booze during that time. I will admit that I was pretty screwed up after the whole thing.
So know that we have the back up story, we can get to the real reason that I am writing. I am writing because her now husband was the guy that she left me for. So is that like losing to the team that wins the whole tournament? That's supposed to be better right? Either way, it was for the best and I wish them both the best. But thinking back.......What if I would have been ready to tackle the marriage situation? Because back then, I was not. I wasn't ready to think about it and she was. But when I found out that they had finally gotten married, I thought back about that. What if I would have given in? I would still be living in Michigan and would have had to change my plans to make sure that everything fit everything she wanted to do. I would have stayed in Michigan is probably the weirdest part. Moving to Chicago was the best thing I have ever done. It was the right thing to do and I have gained so much more then I could have in Michigan.
Could I see myself living in Michigan with a wife? Absolutely not. Could I imagine having dinner at the in-laws every Sunday after going to church with the whole family? Absolutely not. Could I imagine buying a house and starting a family at 25? Absolutely not. I give anyone credit for being able to actually pull this off, but give yourself some time and years under your belt before you start to pat yourself on the back. Its going to be a bumpy road.
So looking back, there was a decision in front of me, take the red pill and do everything I can to stay with her and end up where she and her husband are now? Or take the blue pill, live some great years single and drunk with my friends in Michigan and then move to Chicago? I took the blue pill and I couldn't be happier about it.
I know that this post is going to spark some other debates. The question is going to come up. Actually I was asked it today at lunch when I was eating with some co-workers. Do you want to start seriously dating someone here in Chicago? Because lets be honest, especially if you know me, I have been having a great time here on the weekends getting drunk and hanging out with friends. And during the week I have been focusing on my job and trying to get a couple side projects off the ground. But I can honestly say, yes, I am finally in a place out here that I would be open to seriously dating someone. So put the word out.
Just one last piece of advice at the end of a very long post. Relationships should be a big part of your life, but they shouldn't be your whole life. Once you start to lose yourself in it, it becomes more harmful then helpful.
You may already be asking, where I am going to take this one? Well follow me down the wormhole and we will see just how far it goes. Sorry for the really lame Matrix quote but the title will make since despite my cheesy attempt to make a movie reference. So let me start to explain. Within the last few weeks an long term ex-girlfriend of mine got married. I am going to come out and say that I have not been crying myself to sleep or letting it dwell on my thoughts for days. It is simply something that has made me think back in time and recollect on how things were and how they would have been if I made different choices.
So lets go back in history and I'll que you in to how things used to be in your ole friend The Hitman's life. There I was just a ray of sunshine in high school. Yes, I was the kid sitting at the front of the class with my notes and homework ready every day and would always raise my hand for questions. I am glad that you can't see my face because I couldn't keep a straight face while even typing that. I was the kid in the back of the class that was asleep everyday except for test days and when projects were due. I was the kid walking through the halls half asleep with a big red spot of my forehead from having my head down on my arm for the last hour. I did good in school but didn't really care too much. I didn't care about school and I didn't care much for my job either. But then I met her and I finally cared. She worked with me at one of those large chain retail stores. We were friends for about a year and a half and then we started dating. We dated for about three and a half years before things went sour and that was that. I do not feel the need to get into all the gritty details of how things went sour and how I knew for a while that it would happen. But it did and I have to say that I learned a lot from the whole experience. I also learned a lot about booze during that time. I will admit that I was pretty screwed up after the whole thing.
So know that we have the back up story, we can get to the real reason that I am writing. I am writing because her now husband was the guy that she left me for. So is that like losing to the team that wins the whole tournament? That's supposed to be better right? Either way, it was for the best and I wish them both the best. But thinking back.......What if I would have been ready to tackle the marriage situation? Because back then, I was not. I wasn't ready to think about it and she was. But when I found out that they had finally gotten married, I thought back about that. What if I would have given in? I would still be living in Michigan and would have had to change my plans to make sure that everything fit everything she wanted to do. I would have stayed in Michigan is probably the weirdest part. Moving to Chicago was the best thing I have ever done. It was the right thing to do and I have gained so much more then I could have in Michigan.
Could I see myself living in Michigan with a wife? Absolutely not. Could I imagine having dinner at the in-laws every Sunday after going to church with the whole family? Absolutely not. Could I imagine buying a house and starting a family at 25? Absolutely not. I give anyone credit for being able to actually pull this off, but give yourself some time and years under your belt before you start to pat yourself on the back. Its going to be a bumpy road.
So looking back, there was a decision in front of me, take the red pill and do everything I can to stay with her and end up where she and her husband are now? Or take the blue pill, live some great years single and drunk with my friends in Michigan and then move to Chicago? I took the blue pill and I couldn't be happier about it.
I know that this post is going to spark some other debates. The question is going to come up. Actually I was asked it today at lunch when I was eating with some co-workers. Do you want to start seriously dating someone here in Chicago? Because lets be honest, especially if you know me, I have been having a great time here on the weekends getting drunk and hanging out with friends. And during the week I have been focusing on my job and trying to get a couple side projects off the ground. But I can honestly say, yes, I am finally in a place out here that I would be open to seriously dating someone. So put the word out.
Just one last piece of advice at the end of a very long post. Relationships should be a big part of your life, but they shouldn't be your whole life. Once you start to lose yourself in it, it becomes more harmful then helpful.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Turn the Page
I am not going to make a long post explaining my absence of new posts or groveling at the feet of the blogosphere to let me once again return to my position as a writer. But I would like to briefly explain my disappearing act.
There are many things in my life that I feel that I can not write about on this blog. Its the curse of not holding true anonymity. There are people that read this blog that know my personal life. People that know my writing, my occupation, my friends and where I live. Therefore, I have chosen to not write about the things that have been affecting me for some time. But I am not going to hold back any longer. Things have taken a turn for the better and I am going to run with it.
There may be some posts following this that delve into those topics a little. But much like many books with titles like "Confessions of a Wall Street Analyst", "Confessions of a Street Addict" or "Ivy Brief: True Tales of a Neurotic Law School Student", many names will be changed or removed and the concepts within will be shaped and shifted differently. I think it is important to go back and say the overlying principles of things that have been affecting me. But I will protect those that have attacked me in some way. Especially if you are one of those people, you will read this blog and you will know that I will not take shit anymore.
And for those of you who are wondering how in the hell the title of this blog even relates to the subject matter, please refer to Bob Seger's "Turn the Page", a true classic.
There are many things in my life that I feel that I can not write about on this blog. Its the curse of not holding true anonymity. There are people that read this blog that know my personal life. People that know my writing, my occupation, my friends and where I live. Therefore, I have chosen to not write about the things that have been affecting me for some time. But I am not going to hold back any longer. Things have taken a turn for the better and I am going to run with it.
There may be some posts following this that delve into those topics a little. But much like many books with titles like "Confessions of a Wall Street Analyst", "Confessions of a Street Addict" or "Ivy Brief: True Tales of a Neurotic Law School Student", many names will be changed or removed and the concepts within will be shaped and shifted differently. I think it is important to go back and say the overlying principles of things that have been affecting me. But I will protect those that have attacked me in some way. Especially if you are one of those people, you will read this blog and you will know that I will not take shit anymore.
And for those of you who are wondering how in the hell the title of this blog even relates to the subject matter, please refer to Bob Seger's "Turn the Page", a true classic.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Moving On Up
It seems like only yesterday that the moving truck pulled up into my driveway back in Michigan to start my journey of moving to Chicago. Now I have lived here for a year and three months and I am very happy with the decision that I made to move here. Chicago is a great city and I think I have adapted to the way of life here pretty well.
But the last week has been quite hectic. I have been homeless since a week ago Sunday. My roommate and I moved everything out of our place last Sunday. We both share the same philosophy that we want to pack and move in a very short amount of time. Neither of us enjoy living out a boxes for weeks before a move. So we started packing that Saturday morning. All of our worldly belongings went into boxes. By Sunday morning we were almost ready to go. We just had the kitchen to pack and we could start moving. A couple hours later we were all packed and ready to start moving stuff. The only problem is that we couldn't move into our new place until yesterday. So we had to find places to stash our stuff. All of our furniture and boxes of stuff went to a buddy's house about 5 minutes away from the place. So three quick trips with the ten foot U-Haul and that piece was done. But the problem is that is was now already 5pm. It seemed to have taken us a little longer then we had originally planned.
So next to go were truckloads of smaller and more expensive stuff, like the TV, computers, sports memorabilia, golf clubs, and electronics. So we started packing all this stuff into the truck and moving it to the friends apartment that we were staying at for the week. The only issue that we had with this was that by the time that we got everything together and packed into the truck, it was 2:00 a.m. We have a lot of stuff and since this was the stuff that was more valuable, we had to take better care in transporting it. So we headed off in the truck to her place to unload. We pulled down the alley and parked to see the 3 flights of back and forth stairs that we were going to have to carry everything up. So we went to work and buckled down to get this over with. It took about an hour and a half and we were unloaded. Time to go to bed right? We were far from it. Please remember that this is a Sunday night and we both have to work on Monday morning. Our friend had been helping us all day and was pretty much out of gas at that point. So she stayed as we took off back to our place.
We quickly dropped off the truck and got back to the place which was looking like shit. There was random stuff everywhere. We sat and had a smoke to calm down and then got to it again. Everything that was going had to be put in one of two cars. My roommate just got a new car and hasn't donated his old one yet. So all the odds and ends started flying out of the apartment. Curtains, door mat, fixtures, etc. Everything had to go. So we loaded everything up and the whole place was clear. Now it was time to clean, and now it was 5:30 a.m. Our old management company was most likely the worst management company in the city. I will once again remind everyone to not rent an apartment from Kass Management. They are horrible. So we vacuumed, scrubbed and wiped down everything. The cars were packed to the brim and the place was finally empty. But the sun was up. By the time that we were ready to walk out of the place it was 7:30 a.m.
A quick drive back to our friends apartment, relax for 5 minutes, start showering and getting ready for work. I am supposed to be at work at 8:30 in the morning. I finally pulled up at about 9:45 in front of the building. I was exhausted. We had worked for 24 hours straight moving out. I could hardly keep my eyes open. Even though we had been drinking large quantities of coffee and energy drinks all night to keep us going. But it was all gone. Now I had to work a full day. I didn't think I was going to be able to make it. But I think I caught my 36th wind when I nodded off in the car for 30 seconds on the way over. I made it through the day. I worked a full day and was looking to passing out. But my body still wanted to push me. So I was too tired to sleep. I laid down but I would just lay there. Nothing. Finally I fell asleep and got about 4 hours to get me ready for my next day of work.
The move into the new place was a lot more uneventful and took a lot less time. So there isn't a lot that I can mention. But in my next post, from my new apartment, I will recall all of the glorious events that happened at my old apartment which include, police raids, prostitutes, exploding hot water heaters, lying landlords, lots of Jack Daniels and Canadian Club, parties, pre-drinking and beer pong sessions, and 9 days through the longest and coldest stretch of weather in Chicago in the last 100 years, last winter, without gas which included heat, hot water and the stove.
But the last week has been quite hectic. I have been homeless since a week ago Sunday. My roommate and I moved everything out of our place last Sunday. We both share the same philosophy that we want to pack and move in a very short amount of time. Neither of us enjoy living out a boxes for weeks before a move. So we started packing that Saturday morning. All of our worldly belongings went into boxes. By Sunday morning we were almost ready to go. We just had the kitchen to pack and we could start moving. A couple hours later we were all packed and ready to start moving stuff. The only problem is that we couldn't move into our new place until yesterday. So we had to find places to stash our stuff. All of our furniture and boxes of stuff went to a buddy's house about 5 minutes away from the place. So three quick trips with the ten foot U-Haul and that piece was done. But the problem is that is was now already 5pm. It seemed to have taken us a little longer then we had originally planned.
So next to go were truckloads of smaller and more expensive stuff, like the TV, computers, sports memorabilia, golf clubs, and electronics. So we started packing all this stuff into the truck and moving it to the friends apartment that we were staying at for the week. The only issue that we had with this was that by the time that we got everything together and packed into the truck, it was 2:00 a.m. We have a lot of stuff and since this was the stuff that was more valuable, we had to take better care in transporting it. So we headed off in the truck to her place to unload. We pulled down the alley and parked to see the 3 flights of back and forth stairs that we were going to have to carry everything up. So we went to work and buckled down to get this over with. It took about an hour and a half and we were unloaded. Time to go to bed right? We were far from it. Please remember that this is a Sunday night and we both have to work on Monday morning. Our friend had been helping us all day and was pretty much out of gas at that point. So she stayed as we took off back to our place.
We quickly dropped off the truck and got back to the place which was looking like shit. There was random stuff everywhere. We sat and had a smoke to calm down and then got to it again. Everything that was going had to be put in one of two cars. My roommate just got a new car and hasn't donated his old one yet. So all the odds and ends started flying out of the apartment. Curtains, door mat, fixtures, etc. Everything had to go. So we loaded everything up and the whole place was clear. Now it was time to clean, and now it was 5:30 a.m. Our old management company was most likely the worst management company in the city. I will once again remind everyone to not rent an apartment from Kass Management. They are horrible. So we vacuumed, scrubbed and wiped down everything. The cars were packed to the brim and the place was finally empty. But the sun was up. By the time that we were ready to walk out of the place it was 7:30 a.m.
A quick drive back to our friends apartment, relax for 5 minutes, start showering and getting ready for work. I am supposed to be at work at 8:30 in the morning. I finally pulled up at about 9:45 in front of the building. I was exhausted. We had worked for 24 hours straight moving out. I could hardly keep my eyes open. Even though we had been drinking large quantities of coffee and energy drinks all night to keep us going. But it was all gone. Now I had to work a full day. I didn't think I was going to be able to make it. But I think I caught my 36th wind when I nodded off in the car for 30 seconds on the way over. I made it through the day. I worked a full day and was looking to passing out. But my body still wanted to push me. So I was too tired to sleep. I laid down but I would just lay there. Nothing. Finally I fell asleep and got about 4 hours to get me ready for my next day of work.
The move into the new place was a lot more uneventful and took a lot less time. So there isn't a lot that I can mention. But in my next post, from my new apartment, I will recall all of the glorious events that happened at my old apartment which include, police raids, prostitutes, exploding hot water heaters, lying landlords, lots of Jack Daniels and Canadian Club, parties, pre-drinking and beer pong sessions, and 9 days through the longest and coldest stretch of weather in Chicago in the last 100 years, last winter, without gas which included heat, hot water and the stove.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Mens Room Etiquette
So this is something that I should have written about a long time ago. I hate the fact that I have been a ridiculous slacker and have not been updating this thing like I should be. I started thinking about writing this post about two years ago before this blog was even born. The bathroom situations at the radio stations were bad, but not as bad as they have turned out here in Chicago. So please read and enjoy, these are the Do's and Do Not's of Men's Room Etiquette.
Do: Walk into the men's room in a casual fashion and walk to the receptacle of your choice.
Do Not: Burst into the men's room and have your zipper down when you are still more then ten feet from anywhere from that previously mentioned receptacle.
Do: Stand at the urinal and make sure that your aim is accurate.
Do Not: Stand three feet back from the urinal and see the how far you can arch it.
Do: Maintain a stance that promotes privacy for both you and other bathroom dwellers.
Do Not: Stand at the urinal with your pants undone and hovering around mid-thigh. you are no longer in grade school.
Do: Wash Your Hands!
Do Not: Use the bathroom and then just walk out. You are the reason I have to use a paper towel to open the door.
Do: Please Wash Your Hands!
Do Not: Pretend to wash your hands. It takes just as long to pretend to wash your hands as it does to actually wash them.
Do: Feel free to greet someone on the way in or out of the men's room.
Do Not: Stand and the urinal next to me and insist on looking at me and trying to have a conversation with me.
Do: Throw your paper towel in the trash.
Do Not: Throw the paper towel on the floor or in the urinal. We have had major leakage from paper towel jams and if they are on the floor they have been tracked all the way down the hallway.
Do: Retire to the bathroom to let out some exhaust or make a quick phone call.
Do Not: Lean against the wall near me while I am handling my business and talking about the what you and your douche bag friends did last night.
Do: Feel comfortable in the bathroom.
Do Not: Make noises while talking care of your business that make me feel very uncomfortable in the bathroom.
Do: Use the urinal of your choice.
Do Not: Use the buffer urinal if there are three and the end ones are being used. Go into the stall or just wait it out. The buffer is a necessity.
These are all of the rules that I have seen broken already this morning in the office. Will these things ever change?
If you have any good etiquette tips, feel free to leave them in the comments section.
Do: Walk into the men's room in a casual fashion and walk to the receptacle of your choice.
Do Not: Burst into the men's room and have your zipper down when you are still more then ten feet from anywhere from that previously mentioned receptacle.
Do: Stand at the urinal and make sure that your aim is accurate.
Do Not: Stand three feet back from the urinal and see the how far you can arch it.
Do: Maintain a stance that promotes privacy for both you and other bathroom dwellers.
Do Not: Stand at the urinal with your pants undone and hovering around mid-thigh. you are no longer in grade school.
Do: Wash Your Hands!
Do Not: Use the bathroom and then just walk out. You are the reason I have to use a paper towel to open the door.
Do: Please Wash Your Hands!
Do Not: Pretend to wash your hands. It takes just as long to pretend to wash your hands as it does to actually wash them.
Do: Feel free to greet someone on the way in or out of the men's room.
Do Not: Stand and the urinal next to me and insist on looking at me and trying to have a conversation with me.
Do: Throw your paper towel in the trash.
Do Not: Throw the paper towel on the floor or in the urinal. We have had major leakage from paper towel jams and if they are on the floor they have been tracked all the way down the hallway.
Do: Retire to the bathroom to let out some exhaust or make a quick phone call.
Do Not: Lean against the wall near me while I am handling my business and talking about the what you and your douche bag friends did last night.
Do: Feel comfortable in the bathroom.
Do Not: Make noises while talking care of your business that make me feel very uncomfortable in the bathroom.
Do: Use the urinal of your choice.
Do Not: Use the buffer urinal if there are three and the end ones are being used. Go into the stall or just wait it out. The buffer is a necessity.
These are all of the rules that I have seen broken already this morning in the office. Will these things ever change?
If you have any good etiquette tips, feel free to leave them in the comments section.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Southside Shenanigans
So as many Chicago residents know, the Southside Irish Parade takes place a week before the downtown St Patricks Day festivities. The Southside Parade is pretty much just another reason to get drunk on a Sunday. The problem with the parade is that it runs down Western and there is no good way to get there other then the METRA, which really isn't that convenient anyways. So this was our journey to the Southside.
I was up and in the shower that Sunday morning at 5:45 am. By 6:15 I was dressed, had a beer in my hand and had already had my first smoke of the day. Some more beers and 4 Irish Car Bombs later, we were heading out the door to make it to the METRA so we could get down to the southside. Heading down the sidewalk, we were pretty prepared for the day. There were four of us and we were armed with 5 flasks. The different booze of choice were Jose, Jamison, Captain Morgan Private Reserve, two filled with Jack Daniels. Not to mention a camelback filled with Irish coffee. We finally caught a cab after about 20 minutes and headed to the train station. Wouldn't you know our luck. We got to the train station about 3 minutes after the train had left and there wouldn't be another one for an hour. So we decided to cut our loses and head to the red line. But first a bathroom stop. Of course, being a man, I am waiting for the ladies to come out of the restroom so we can get going. Suddenly, the two of them burst out carrying a long gift bag and heading for the door. Little did I know that they had just found a $40 bottle of champagne in the bathroom and had decided that it would be best to come with us.
So on our red line trip, we passed the flasks and starting building up our already apparent buzzes. A quick cab ride and we are there, Southside Parade. But we had a few hours to kill so we walked around and drained the camelback. Then someone got the bright idea to pour the champagne into the camelback. But the problem is that the tube that you drink out of was now mixed with Irish coffee and champagne, someone was going to have the clear it. So being the team player that I am, I volunteered. This was not one of my greatest decisions. It was the weirdest taste I have ever experienced. I could taste baileys, whiskey, coffee, champagne and cigarette smoke. It was very interesting and I don't think I will be doing that again any time soon.
We waited in line for the bar for about an hour or so which was pretty uneventful. It was pretty much standing around smoking and drinking. But it was fun to watch the cops harassing everyone. Once we got into the bar is was pretty much par for the course. The place was packed. But we took over the music and played Avenged Sevenfold, Atreyu, Bullet for my Valentine and Dropkick Murphys. It was a good time, but it just wasn't over the top.
We left the bar and decided to check out some other places. But a friend of mine and I had to use the restroom a.k.a. the horrid porta johns around the parade route. So we waited in line for about a half hour, but to be honest it was probably the best part of the day. We stood there with complete strangers having a great time. Talking about setting pace times and reasoning with them that it was not a good idea for me to piss in the alley next to the porta potty and get my name on the sex offenders list for indecent exposure. We took pictures with them and pretty much got everyone else around us excited to go to the bathroom. It was a good time.
But When we met back up with our friends, we realized one of them was a little too drunk so we were going to head home. We walked over the the METRA stop and realized that the next train wasn't coming for another hour and a half. So we decided to catch a cab to the red line just like before and head home. So we started walking. Little did we know that there are no cabs on the southside. So we ended up walking about 3 and a half miles to the red line through a lot of neighborhoods that reminded me of Detroit. I don't mean that as an insult it is just the truth. After that nice long stroll, we finally got the train.
Once on the train, our very very drunk friend let us know that she was going to the "dark side", which means that she is going to pass out and pretty much be belligerent. What would you do in this situation? We decided to start giving her shots of tequila. And it worked, she was back with us in no time. So we started joking about getting her a Jose Cuervo IV so that she would always be a good little drunk. A guy sitting by us loved the idea and started chiming in comments about the tequila IV. We always seem to make friends where ever we go.
So after a long train ride and a short bus ride, I was sitting in my leather recliner ready to pass out. It was only 4:30 in the afternoon surprisingly. But it was a great nap. I slept in that ultra comfortable chair until 10 pm and then went and passed out in my bed until morning. Apparently it had been a long day.
But I fell asleep thinking of walking down the street talking with my fellow wanderers when we decided that we are going to take next year off. Two years in a row is enough for now.
I was up and in the shower that Sunday morning at 5:45 am. By 6:15 I was dressed, had a beer in my hand and had already had my first smoke of the day. Some more beers and 4 Irish Car Bombs later, we were heading out the door to make it to the METRA so we could get down to the southside. Heading down the sidewalk, we were pretty prepared for the day. There were four of us and we were armed with 5 flasks. The different booze of choice were Jose, Jamison, Captain Morgan Private Reserve, two filled with Jack Daniels. Not to mention a camelback filled with Irish coffee. We finally caught a cab after about 20 minutes and headed to the train station. Wouldn't you know our luck. We got to the train station about 3 minutes after the train had left and there wouldn't be another one for an hour. So we decided to cut our loses and head to the red line. But first a bathroom stop. Of course, being a man, I am waiting for the ladies to come out of the restroom so we can get going. Suddenly, the two of them burst out carrying a long gift bag and heading for the door. Little did I know that they had just found a $40 bottle of champagne in the bathroom and had decided that it would be best to come with us.
So on our red line trip, we passed the flasks and starting building up our already apparent buzzes. A quick cab ride and we are there, Southside Parade. But we had a few hours to kill so we walked around and drained the camelback. Then someone got the bright idea to pour the champagne into the camelback. But the problem is that the tube that you drink out of was now mixed with Irish coffee and champagne, someone was going to have the clear it. So being the team player that I am, I volunteered. This was not one of my greatest decisions. It was the weirdest taste I have ever experienced. I could taste baileys, whiskey, coffee, champagne and cigarette smoke. It was very interesting and I don't think I will be doing that again any time soon.
We waited in line for the bar for about an hour or so which was pretty uneventful. It was pretty much standing around smoking and drinking. But it was fun to watch the cops harassing everyone. Once we got into the bar is was pretty much par for the course. The place was packed. But we took over the music and played Avenged Sevenfold, Atreyu, Bullet for my Valentine and Dropkick Murphys. It was a good time, but it just wasn't over the top.
We left the bar and decided to check out some other places. But a friend of mine and I had to use the restroom a.k.a. the horrid porta johns around the parade route. So we waited in line for about a half hour, but to be honest it was probably the best part of the day. We stood there with complete strangers having a great time. Talking about setting pace times and reasoning with them that it was not a good idea for me to piss in the alley next to the porta potty and get my name on the sex offenders list for indecent exposure. We took pictures with them and pretty much got everyone else around us excited to go to the bathroom. It was a good time.
But When we met back up with our friends, we realized one of them was a little too drunk so we were going to head home. We walked over the the METRA stop and realized that the next train wasn't coming for another hour and a half. So we decided to catch a cab to the red line just like before and head home. So we started walking. Little did we know that there are no cabs on the southside. So we ended up walking about 3 and a half miles to the red line through a lot of neighborhoods that reminded me of Detroit. I don't mean that as an insult it is just the truth. After that nice long stroll, we finally got the train.
Once on the train, our very very drunk friend let us know that she was going to the "dark side", which means that she is going to pass out and pretty much be belligerent. What would you do in this situation? We decided to start giving her shots of tequila. And it worked, she was back with us in no time. So we started joking about getting her a Jose Cuervo IV so that she would always be a good little drunk. A guy sitting by us loved the idea and started chiming in comments about the tequila IV. We always seem to make friends where ever we go.
So after a long train ride and a short bus ride, I was sitting in my leather recliner ready to pass out. It was only 4:30 in the afternoon surprisingly. But it was a great nap. I slept in that ultra comfortable chair until 10 pm and then went and passed out in my bed until morning. Apparently it had been a long day.
But I fell asleep thinking of walking down the street talking with my fellow wanderers when we decided that we are going to take next year off. Two years in a row is enough for now.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Untitled: Less is More
So I usually start out a post by writing the title. This is strange because many good writers will tell you that they just start writing and when they have their thoughts typed out then they develop a title. I think that the "title-first" strategy that I have been using has worked pretty well to this point. But I am going to try it the other way today. Most of my posts in the past have all been written from a specific experience that I have had in my life. Some people have questioned me if these things actually do happen to me. I am proud to say that everything that is written in this blog is true. Sometimes I wish it wasn't all true, but it is. All the interesting things that have happened to me here in Chicago have been posted, for the most part.
I am the kind of person that does not view a trip, vacation or night at the bar with 100% satisfaction if there is not a story that came along with it. But some stories are not meant to be told. This is for many different reasons. I would never come on here and say anything about my work environment. I know that people from my office read this blog and if I have a problem I would let you know or just bottle it up inside and not say anything to anyone about it. I would also never use friends names or specific information about my life (i.e. my company name, where I live, friends names, what I look like, or even my own name). These are all things that are best left off of this site.
As the sole writer for this blog I have made mistakes in the past. I have written about things that I should have probably laid off. I have stated many things that could be taken different ways by different people. I am not a big fan of being politically correct so that means that somewhere down the line, I am most likely offending someone. I think that the world today is too politically correct. We are being judged for every word that comes out of our mouths or is spoken through the tips of our fingers. I think it is ridiculous.
But, there has been one post that I removed from this blog. I thought it was a misjudgement on my part to write it and therefore I deemed it necessary to remove it at the time. But now I wonder if I should have just left it. Technically there was no one hurt in the situation other then myself. I am not so insecure that I couldn't bear that situation. I just removed it because I didn't know how else to respond. If you were lucky enough to read that post, then you know exactly what I am talking about. But for those of you in the dark at the moment, I will give a short explanation. I had been on a failed date. I say failed even though the date itself went very well. She was an extremely attractive girl and definitely had one of the best personalities that I have met in Chicago. But it just wasn't there. I had written about the date itself and discussed what my hopes were. On the day of writing the post, I received word from her that it wasn't like that. And that she didn't know that's what my intentions were. At the time, I was embarrassed. I didn't know what to do. I knew that friends of mine had read the post and were waiting for the next piece of news to see what was the recent developements. But instead of news, I removed the post and ignored that I ever wrote it. I changed my blog for others. I didn't want to hear about it and I didn't know how to respond. So there is it. The mystery of the "ghost" post has been laid out.
As an amateur writer, I feel it is important to write for me, not for others. I whole heartedly enjoy writing these posts and sharing my ridiculous stories and experiences with all of you. Your comments back let me know that it is worth spending the time to write this out. But I also do this for myself. Stories are important to me. This is a way for me to document my life since moving to Chicago. This is a way for me to look back and see the past. I sit here shaking my head as I think about the day I removed that post. It was important. I put myself out there and even though I got shot right back down, I put myself out there. That is something I just don't do. I have a wall built up and I never lower it. But I did and that makes me think. If I still had that post I would re-post it immediately.
This has been a different style for me and to be completely honest again, I liked it. So many great writers out there would just put a blank sheet in front of them with a pencil and write down what was on there mind. I believe I have picked up this style from them and I sincerely appreciate it. Like I stated earlier, I usually write of a specific moment, not a specific mind frame. I hope you readers enjoy reading this post as much as I have enjoyed writing it. I am happy to share the inner workings of my mind with all of you and not just the booze that did me in or the smoke I just crushed in the ashtray. I would assume that I will be posting like this more often. But I must warn you, some of the things in my head aren't that pretty. If you read something that you don't like, just give it a couple days and give it another try.
One last thing left to do. Back to the top of this page to write a title.
I am the kind of person that does not view a trip, vacation or night at the bar with 100% satisfaction if there is not a story that came along with it. But some stories are not meant to be told. This is for many different reasons. I would never come on here and say anything about my work environment. I know that people from my office read this blog and if I have a problem I would let you know or just bottle it up inside and not say anything to anyone about it. I would also never use friends names or specific information about my life (i.e. my company name, where I live, friends names, what I look like, or even my own name). These are all things that are best left off of this site.
As the sole writer for this blog I have made mistakes in the past. I have written about things that I should have probably laid off. I have stated many things that could be taken different ways by different people. I am not a big fan of being politically correct so that means that somewhere down the line, I am most likely offending someone. I think that the world today is too politically correct. We are being judged for every word that comes out of our mouths or is spoken through the tips of our fingers. I think it is ridiculous.
But, there has been one post that I removed from this blog. I thought it was a misjudgement on my part to write it and therefore I deemed it necessary to remove it at the time. But now I wonder if I should have just left it. Technically there was no one hurt in the situation other then myself. I am not so insecure that I couldn't bear that situation. I just removed it because I didn't know how else to respond. If you were lucky enough to read that post, then you know exactly what I am talking about. But for those of you in the dark at the moment, I will give a short explanation. I had been on a failed date. I say failed even though the date itself went very well. She was an extremely attractive girl and definitely had one of the best personalities that I have met in Chicago. But it just wasn't there. I had written about the date itself and discussed what my hopes were. On the day of writing the post, I received word from her that it wasn't like that. And that she didn't know that's what my intentions were. At the time, I was embarrassed. I didn't know what to do. I knew that friends of mine had read the post and were waiting for the next piece of news to see what was the recent developements. But instead of news, I removed the post and ignored that I ever wrote it. I changed my blog for others. I didn't want to hear about it and I didn't know how to respond. So there is it. The mystery of the "ghost" post has been laid out.
As an amateur writer, I feel it is important to write for me, not for others. I whole heartedly enjoy writing these posts and sharing my ridiculous stories and experiences with all of you. Your comments back let me know that it is worth spending the time to write this out. But I also do this for myself. Stories are important to me. This is a way for me to document my life since moving to Chicago. This is a way for me to look back and see the past. I sit here shaking my head as I think about the day I removed that post. It was important. I put myself out there and even though I got shot right back down, I put myself out there. That is something I just don't do. I have a wall built up and I never lower it. But I did and that makes me think. If I still had that post I would re-post it immediately.
This has been a different style for me and to be completely honest again, I liked it. So many great writers out there would just put a blank sheet in front of them with a pencil and write down what was on there mind. I believe I have picked up this style from them and I sincerely appreciate it. Like I stated earlier, I usually write of a specific moment, not a specific mind frame. I hope you readers enjoy reading this post as much as I have enjoyed writing it. I am happy to share the inner workings of my mind with all of you and not just the booze that did me in or the smoke I just crushed in the ashtray. I would assume that I will be posting like this more often. But I must warn you, some of the things in my head aren't that pretty. If you read something that you don't like, just give it a couple days and give it another try.
One last thing left to do. Back to the top of this page to write a title.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Inches from Death
So there I was, just trying to break up the afternoon with a quick smoke break. A friend of mine and I were standing in front of our building in downtown Chicago as I puffed away. Just the usual bullshit, nothing too exciting. It had been a rough couple of weeks at work and I was feeling very tense and frustrated. So as I stood there bitching about my week and trying to figure out a way to complete my project, inspiration struck.
The inspiration that struck was a huge chunk of ice the size of a football. It was was a little warmer that day and the snow and ice were melting in the streets and off the buildings. Almost all buildings have those "Caution: Falling Ice" signs out in the sidewalk in front of their buildings. I am assuming this is to limit their liability if anything were to happen. I had always blown those off as nothing. What are the chances that a piece of ice or snow is going to fall off of this building at the exact moment that I am standing in its exact path? I thought the ratios and the probability of something like this was astronomical. I was wrong.
As I stood there taking a hit off of my Camel Wide Light, this huge chunk of ice, decided to kamikaze right off the side of the building. It plummeted through the air and finally struck the Earth, about three inches to the left of my left shoe. I would have to say that if it landed 4 or 5 inches to the right of where it hit, it would have landed straight on the back of my head. People have told me I would have most likely died, others told me that I just would have split my head open really bad. But it didn't hit me at all. To be honest, I didn't even flinch when it did hit. I didn't even move from my spot. I just stood there and took another hit off my cigarette as my friend quickly retreated to the street. In my head, it is one in a million to get hit with a falling piece of ice. But the chances of getting hit after one has already almost called for a quick picture wrap on ole Hitman have to be in the billions. So I stood there, and about 2 minutes later a small, but still rather large, piece of ice hits the sidewalk about 6 inches to the right of me. And even though it now has to be in the trillions for a third piece of ice to fall and hit me, I decided not to tempt fate. I flicked the butt of my smoke into the street and headed for the door.
I was about four steps into my approach to the door when another twist or irony reared its ugly head. Who is that coming through the door, my mind wondered? I know that face. Suddenly my face dropped into a scowl and I just stared trying to contain the millions of things I wanted to say to this person. Who was it? It was Jesse Jackson. A lot of you know my political affiliations and such, but I try to keep them off of this blog. Either way, if I was a Democrat, a Republican, or a Communist, it wouldn't matter. I don't think anyone should have respect for Jesse Jackson. I think that he only shows up in situations where he can promote himself and that is it. My friend had the opportunity to watch me as I restrained myself from saying anything. It wouldn't be appropriate I told myself. It isn't going to change or help anything.
So I held my tongue and didn't say a word. There are so many things I wanted to say.
So for me, I think the moral of the story is that there is only an inch between life and death. So cherish the time that you do have and try and not waste time on people who really don't matter. Because you never know when a huge chunk of ice is going to fall from the sky.
The inspiration that struck was a huge chunk of ice the size of a football. It was was a little warmer that day and the snow and ice were melting in the streets and off the buildings. Almost all buildings have those "Caution: Falling Ice" signs out in the sidewalk in front of their buildings. I am assuming this is to limit their liability if anything were to happen. I had always blown those off as nothing. What are the chances that a piece of ice or snow is going to fall off of this building at the exact moment that I am standing in its exact path? I thought the ratios and the probability of something like this was astronomical. I was wrong.
As I stood there taking a hit off of my Camel Wide Light, this huge chunk of ice, decided to kamikaze right off the side of the building. It plummeted through the air and finally struck the Earth, about three inches to the left of my left shoe. I would have to say that if it landed 4 or 5 inches to the right of where it hit, it would have landed straight on the back of my head. People have told me I would have most likely died, others told me that I just would have split my head open really bad. But it didn't hit me at all. To be honest, I didn't even flinch when it did hit. I didn't even move from my spot. I just stood there and took another hit off my cigarette as my friend quickly retreated to the street. In my head, it is one in a million to get hit with a falling piece of ice. But the chances of getting hit after one has already almost called for a quick picture wrap on ole Hitman have to be in the billions. So I stood there, and about 2 minutes later a small, but still rather large, piece of ice hits the sidewalk about 6 inches to the right of me. And even though it now has to be in the trillions for a third piece of ice to fall and hit me, I decided not to tempt fate. I flicked the butt of my smoke into the street and headed for the door.
I was about four steps into my approach to the door when another twist or irony reared its ugly head. Who is that coming through the door, my mind wondered? I know that face. Suddenly my face dropped into a scowl and I just stared trying to contain the millions of things I wanted to say to this person. Who was it? It was Jesse Jackson. A lot of you know my political affiliations and such, but I try to keep them off of this blog. Either way, if I was a Democrat, a Republican, or a Communist, it wouldn't matter. I don't think anyone should have respect for Jesse Jackson. I think that he only shows up in situations where he can promote himself and that is it. My friend had the opportunity to watch me as I restrained myself from saying anything. It wouldn't be appropriate I told myself. It isn't going to change or help anything.
So I held my tongue and didn't say a word. There are so many things I wanted to say.
So for me, I think the moral of the story is that there is only an inch between life and death. So cherish the time that you do have and try and not waste time on people who really don't matter. Because you never know when a huge chunk of ice is going to fall from the sky.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Letter to the Illinois State Government
To whom is may concern,
I am writing you this letter today to see if you would be able to offer any answers for my inquiries. Due to the recent smoking ban within Illinois, I, as a smoker, are no longer allowed to smoke in any bars or restaurants within state lines. I am also forbidden to smoke within 15 feet of any public entrance.
I am first wondering why you decided to make it a universal ban instead of allowing some bars and restaurants to allow smoking at their discretion? I ask this because there are many bars and restaurants in Chicago that are more prone to have cigarette smoke then others. If you look in any picture of a blues or jazz club, there is cigarette smoke and smokers throughout the picture. It just seems to be part of the culture. There are also many rock bars out there that follow the same pattern. If these are places known to have smokers attending frequently, isn't that a good enough warning for those that do not want to breathe in the smoke. Smokers know the consequences of their actions. I personally know that there are many things that can hurt your health within cigarette smoke, and acknowledge that second-hand smoke can be harmful as well. There are many places that I have visited that have had fantastic ventilation systems and were very efficient with making the air cleaner for all those within the establishment. Did you explore the possibility of having a specific zoning need for bars and restaurants to have up to date and effective ventilation systems?
I first didn't understand with the ban of smoking on train platforms that were outside. The underground platforms were understandable, but those out in the open have enough air movement not to bother those around you. I also wanted to ask about the 15 foot barrier around all public entrances. I, like many other residents of Chicago, take the train and walk to work. This means that I walk from the Grand Red Line Station to my office. During this walk I am passing public entrances well within 30 feet (this would be taking two entrances' 15 foot area and having them reach each other). Does this mean that I am no longer allowed to smoke on this sidewalk? Because most of the sidewalks in the city carry this same level of proximity. This would mean that I would not be able to smoke on most sidewalks around Chicago. Where is there left for me to smoke, the middle of the street?
The third and last inquiry that I have refers to Illinois cigarette taxes. I recently read an article that said that just under $5 in the cost of a pack of cigarettes is tax. This means that when I walked to 7 Eleven last night and picked up 4 packs of Camel Wide Lights, $20 our of the $29 it cost me went to the state. But if I am not legally allowed to smoke anywhere but my own home or in that sliver of room between public entrances, why do I have to give the state money? The state is enforcing rules that make me feel like I am a criminal for having a cigarette, but I still have to pay in excess per pack to the state.
If you look at this situation in a very literal form, it pans out like this. In order to not break the law, I need to smoke in the street. The biggest danger of standing in the middle of the street is being hit by a passing car. But whether or not that happens, I am rendered helpless and I am robbed. If I was laying there helpless, a state representative would be going through my pockets, counting how many smokes I had on me at the time and then taking my money to cover the tax on them. But what if I dropped a cigarette butt in the street when I was hit. I would most likely be ticketed for littering and possibly loitering.
If you could please answer these questions for me, I would greatly appreciate it. I started smoking because I chose to. This state feels the need to punish me in every way possible for making that decision. I have to tell you that if this is the route that you are using to try and make people quit, then you won't receive your tax money anyways. I would like for you to review your policies and see if you could work out a compromise.
Thank you for your time.
Sincerely yours,
Hitman
(Smoking since 1999)
I am writing you this letter today to see if you would be able to offer any answers for my inquiries. Due to the recent smoking ban within Illinois, I, as a smoker, are no longer allowed to smoke in any bars or restaurants within state lines. I am also forbidden to smoke within 15 feet of any public entrance.
I am first wondering why you decided to make it a universal ban instead of allowing some bars and restaurants to allow smoking at their discretion? I ask this because there are many bars and restaurants in Chicago that are more prone to have cigarette smoke then others. If you look in any picture of a blues or jazz club, there is cigarette smoke and smokers throughout the picture. It just seems to be part of the culture. There are also many rock bars out there that follow the same pattern. If these are places known to have smokers attending frequently, isn't that a good enough warning for those that do not want to breathe in the smoke. Smokers know the consequences of their actions. I personally know that there are many things that can hurt your health within cigarette smoke, and acknowledge that second-hand smoke can be harmful as well. There are many places that I have visited that have had fantastic ventilation systems and were very efficient with making the air cleaner for all those within the establishment. Did you explore the possibility of having a specific zoning need for bars and restaurants to have up to date and effective ventilation systems?
I first didn't understand with the ban of smoking on train platforms that were outside. The underground platforms were understandable, but those out in the open have enough air movement not to bother those around you. I also wanted to ask about the 15 foot barrier around all public entrances. I, like many other residents of Chicago, take the train and walk to work. This means that I walk from the Grand Red Line Station to my office. During this walk I am passing public entrances well within 30 feet (this would be taking two entrances' 15 foot area and having them reach each other). Does this mean that I am no longer allowed to smoke on this sidewalk? Because most of the sidewalks in the city carry this same level of proximity. This would mean that I would not be able to smoke on most sidewalks around Chicago. Where is there left for me to smoke, the middle of the street?
The third and last inquiry that I have refers to Illinois cigarette taxes. I recently read an article that said that just under $5 in the cost of a pack of cigarettes is tax. This means that when I walked to 7 Eleven last night and picked up 4 packs of Camel Wide Lights, $20 our of the $29 it cost me went to the state. But if I am not legally allowed to smoke anywhere but my own home or in that sliver of room between public entrances, why do I have to give the state money? The state is enforcing rules that make me feel like I am a criminal for having a cigarette, but I still have to pay in excess per pack to the state.
If you look at this situation in a very literal form, it pans out like this. In order to not break the law, I need to smoke in the street. The biggest danger of standing in the middle of the street is being hit by a passing car. But whether or not that happens, I am rendered helpless and I am robbed. If I was laying there helpless, a state representative would be going through my pockets, counting how many smokes I had on me at the time and then taking my money to cover the tax on them. But what if I dropped a cigarette butt in the street when I was hit. I would most likely be ticketed for littering and possibly loitering.
If you could please answer these questions for me, I would greatly appreciate it. I started smoking because I chose to. This state feels the need to punish me in every way possible for making that decision. I have to tell you that if this is the route that you are using to try and make people quit, then you won't receive your tax money anyways. I would like for you to review your policies and see if you could work out a compromise.
Thank you for your time.
Sincerely yours,
Hitman
(Smoking since 1999)
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
9 Out of 10 Doctors Smoke Camels
Most of you will know the title if you have seen the old school Camel cigarette ad that showcases doctors with their patients puffing on a Camel. But let me get to the reason for this post. I have been thinking about writing a post about smoking for a while now. With all the TRUTH commercials out there and the recent smoking ban in Chicago, it has become an increasingly prevalent topic in society.
I have always had a problem with the TRUTH commercials. I think that they have a distorted view of big tobacco and of smokers. They are part of the reason that smokers, like myself, are seen as criminals. I am constantly told that I started smoking because of Joe Kool ads or Marlboro Man. But this is not the reason why I started smoking. It all started that faithful day back in Michigan when I was 16. My friends and I would always meet up at a pool hall out by our houses after classes. They were all older then I was so they were of legal age to smoke. But it wasn't them, it was the representative from Marlboro that searched me out and put a gun to my head forcing me to smoke. That's ridiculous. I started smoking because I got a buzz at the time and I wanted to. That's the reason. Don't tell me that Joe Kool ads had so much influence on me that I started smoking.
I started smoking because I wanted to start smoking. Why do I continue to smoke knowing all the health consequences? Yes, I know that there are consequences to smoking. I continue to smoke because I like smoking. It calms me down, it gives me time to think through something, and it goes great with a beer. Why do all smokers and I have to be seen as just a pawn in big tobacco's game? If I want to have one, I mostly likely am going to have one.
As I had mentioned I have wanted to do this for a while. But I needed a spark. Please pardon the horrible smoking pun. About fifteen minutes ago, I went outside in the freezing ass cold to have a smoke before going to bed. As I took the second hit of my smoke and still enjoying the warmth that I had, a puck ass kid on a bike was riding down the street and yelled out "Smoking is bad for you". Have you ever blinked and seen a whole chain of events go down in your mind in a split second. Well if you have, then you will understand. In my mind i chased the kid down, pummeled him to the ground and forced him to chain smoke. But then my eyes opened and so did my mouth. "Thanks for the fucking news flash asshole, isn't there a poetry reading or Dashboard confessional concert you should be at?" Who the fuck does that kid think he is? I am standing on the stoop of my apartment building having a smoke and not bothering anyone. There was no one coming down the sidewalk that would have to smell my smoke. We are in Chicago in the winter, so I know damn well that the piece of shit on his bike didn't have to smell my smoke. Keep your opinion to yourself.
So this serves as a warning. DO NOT TELL ME SMOKING IS BAD UNLESS I KNOW YOU. I have had comments walking to the train, standing in front of the building I work in, and now I have dealt with it at home. There are far worse things going on in this world. Please start with them. And then when smoking becomes the biggest problem, come knock on my door.
I have always had a problem with the TRUTH commercials. I think that they have a distorted view of big tobacco and of smokers. They are part of the reason that smokers, like myself, are seen as criminals. I am constantly told that I started smoking because of Joe Kool ads or Marlboro Man. But this is not the reason why I started smoking. It all started that faithful day back in Michigan when I was 16. My friends and I would always meet up at a pool hall out by our houses after classes. They were all older then I was so they were of legal age to smoke. But it wasn't them, it was the representative from Marlboro that searched me out and put a gun to my head forcing me to smoke. That's ridiculous. I started smoking because I got a buzz at the time and I wanted to. That's the reason. Don't tell me that Joe Kool ads had so much influence on me that I started smoking.
I started smoking because I wanted to start smoking. Why do I continue to smoke knowing all the health consequences? Yes, I know that there are consequences to smoking. I continue to smoke because I like smoking. It calms me down, it gives me time to think through something, and it goes great with a beer. Why do all smokers and I have to be seen as just a pawn in big tobacco's game? If I want to have one, I mostly likely am going to have one.
As I had mentioned I have wanted to do this for a while. But I needed a spark. Please pardon the horrible smoking pun. About fifteen minutes ago, I went outside in the freezing ass cold to have a smoke before going to bed. As I took the second hit of my smoke and still enjoying the warmth that I had, a puck ass kid on a bike was riding down the street and yelled out "Smoking is bad for you". Have you ever blinked and seen a whole chain of events go down in your mind in a split second. Well if you have, then you will understand. In my mind i chased the kid down, pummeled him to the ground and forced him to chain smoke. But then my eyes opened and so did my mouth. "Thanks for the fucking news flash asshole, isn't there a poetry reading or Dashboard confessional concert you should be at?" Who the fuck does that kid think he is? I am standing on the stoop of my apartment building having a smoke and not bothering anyone. There was no one coming down the sidewalk that would have to smell my smoke. We are in Chicago in the winter, so I know damn well that the piece of shit on his bike didn't have to smell my smoke. Keep your opinion to yourself.
So this serves as a warning. DO NOT TELL ME SMOKING IS BAD UNLESS I KNOW YOU. I have had comments walking to the train, standing in front of the building I work in, and now I have dealt with it at home. There are far worse things going on in this world. Please start with them. And then when smoking becomes the biggest problem, come knock on my door.
Monday, January 14, 2008
For Some People Its Whiskey
Many of the posts on this blog feature my triumphs over people such as assholes at the ball game or NYE party or failures of others such as the direction movies have taken as of late. But for this post, I will tell the story of one of my own failures. This failure came to me in the form of soupy red jello shots that were mostly 100 proof Vodka.
It started as many weekend nights start. Friends came over to our place to pre-drink. We busted out the tables and started a friendly competition of beer pong that wasn't so friendly. I should have really seen this coming. A bunch of people competing and drinking heavily, its a real shocker that tings turned out the way that they did.
My pong partner and I won a couple games and lost a couple games to start the night. But as you know if you have ever played beer pong, the longer the tournament, the more cases of beer. There ended up only being four of us playing beer pong. Two on two, and it was fairly even matched. After about an hour we had two cases of beer cans residing in the kitchen sink. We started off each new game with a jello shot as well. They were made and brought over by a lady friend of ours who did not let us know it was hundred proof until the next morning. Drunker and drunker the situation became. I should also mention that my beer pong teammate was a friend of my roommates that was out visiting for the weekend. When the two of them get together they became very competitive and huge smart asses.
As more and more beer was drank, the games became more heated and comments were being thrown around that consisted of everything from mothers to female anatomy. Occasional trips outside for a cigarette seemed to be used pretty efficiently to slam your opponent and warn about the next game. Hours went by and finally we were out of beer. But, luckily for us, we had jello shots. A female friend of ours somehow convinced me in my drunken haze that everyone was taking shots and that I needed to catch up. Within four minutes i had put down an additional five jello shots that could most likely be considered three shots of 100 proof.
Stumbling outside for another smoke, my roommate and his buddy started talking shit about me in some capacity. I don't really remember what they were saying but apparently it set me off. Next thing I know, I am being restrained by the two of them on the hood of my roommate's car. The roommate was on my right arm and his buddy on my left. I was screaming and the top of my lungs and doing everything that I could to break free. As the roommate tells it, I was sprawled out on the car screaming and cursing like a sailor. My veins were popping out of my arms and my neck as I fought with every ounce of energy I had. But the thing that was truly keeping this going was the fact that my asshole roommate was petting my face telling me to shush and calm down in a very condescending manner, which he fully admits.
This situation ended with me talking them into letting me go. I immediately started walking down the street so I could calm down. My heart was pumping out of my chest and my lungs screamed for cigarette smoke. I didn't really talk much more for the night. I went back in after a little while and ended up going to bed shortly there after.
For some people, whiskey makes them angry. For me, large amounts of 100 proof Vodka make me angry, apparently.
For those of you that may take this as my developing a "problem", please keep your comments to yourself. I drank on New Years Eve, please see preceding post, I had complete control of myself. After New Years Eve I decided to take a little time away from the bottle. I hadn't had a sip of booze up until this last Friday and I still didn't drink enough to even get a remote buzz. I am laying off the booze for a while and taken it easy.
It started as many weekend nights start. Friends came over to our place to pre-drink. We busted out the tables and started a friendly competition of beer pong that wasn't so friendly. I should have really seen this coming. A bunch of people competing and drinking heavily, its a real shocker that tings turned out the way that they did.
My pong partner and I won a couple games and lost a couple games to start the night. But as you know if you have ever played beer pong, the longer the tournament, the more cases of beer. There ended up only being four of us playing beer pong. Two on two, and it was fairly even matched. After about an hour we had two cases of beer cans residing in the kitchen sink. We started off each new game with a jello shot as well. They were made and brought over by a lady friend of ours who did not let us know it was hundred proof until the next morning. Drunker and drunker the situation became. I should also mention that my beer pong teammate was a friend of my roommates that was out visiting for the weekend. When the two of them get together they became very competitive and huge smart asses.
As more and more beer was drank, the games became more heated and comments were being thrown around that consisted of everything from mothers to female anatomy. Occasional trips outside for a cigarette seemed to be used pretty efficiently to slam your opponent and warn about the next game. Hours went by and finally we were out of beer. But, luckily for us, we had jello shots. A female friend of ours somehow convinced me in my drunken haze that everyone was taking shots and that I needed to catch up. Within four minutes i had put down an additional five jello shots that could most likely be considered three shots of 100 proof.
Stumbling outside for another smoke, my roommate and his buddy started talking shit about me in some capacity. I don't really remember what they were saying but apparently it set me off. Next thing I know, I am being restrained by the two of them on the hood of my roommate's car. The roommate was on my right arm and his buddy on my left. I was screaming and the top of my lungs and doing everything that I could to break free. As the roommate tells it, I was sprawled out on the car screaming and cursing like a sailor. My veins were popping out of my arms and my neck as I fought with every ounce of energy I had. But the thing that was truly keeping this going was the fact that my asshole roommate was petting my face telling me to shush and calm down in a very condescending manner, which he fully admits.
This situation ended with me talking them into letting me go. I immediately started walking down the street so I could calm down. My heart was pumping out of my chest and my lungs screamed for cigarette smoke. I didn't really talk much more for the night. I went back in after a little while and ended up going to bed shortly there after.
For some people, whiskey makes them angry. For me, large amounts of 100 proof Vodka make me angry, apparently.
For those of you that may take this as my developing a "problem", please keep your comments to yourself. I drank on New Years Eve, please see preceding post, I had complete control of myself. After New Years Eve I decided to take a little time away from the bottle. I hadn't had a sip of booze up until this last Friday and I still didn't drink enough to even get a remote buzz. I am laying off the booze for a while and taken it easy.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
New Years Eve and Liquid Courage
New Years is a very different time of the year for many. This is the time that we decided to make life altering changes and try new things. The gyms will all be packed till the end of February and Krispy Kreme stock will take a small hit. But that is the way it goes every year. People make huge promises to themselves and only about five percent of those people actually stick to their resolution. I am not going to claim that I am completely innocent in this situation. But the difference in my case is that I usually just don't make New Years Resolutions. This kind of cuts out the whole failing part. If I am going to do something it is because I want to, not because of what month or year it is.
It is funny to watch how different people celebrate New Years. For many, there always seems to be that underlining common denominator of friends and booze. This is how I chose to spend my New Years Eve ushering in 2008. Our group of friends had a hard time deciding where to go for the night. So a couple of them stepped up and made an executive decision. We all went online and got our tickets for the Evil Olive, a bar that none of us had ever been to before. but it turned out pretty well. The bar was decent and the drinks were top shelf. One of the best part of this particular party was the fact that there was not a ton of people there. Since there were so many options for options for people to explore, the bar wasn't wall to wall people.
The night was turning out great. I had been drinking Johnnie Walker Black all night and we had talked the female bartender in giving us rounds of Patrone shots. Luckily, her manager didn't find out until after the 6th round. This is how I knew I would get that $90 back that I had paid to be there. But close to midnight, she was scolded and we no longer were allowed shots. Midnight hit, the balloons fell from the ceiling and everyone was happy. Friends were hugging and wishing each other a Happy New Year. I was very pleased with the way the night turned out. Until the bus boy came up to me at 12:02 and insisted that I put out my cigarette because the new law was in affect. I wasn't to pleased at this point. It could have been the Johnnie Walker or it could have been my addiction, but no matter what it was I was not pleased. At that point after the celebration, I was ready to go.
Just to add a little more to the night, here comes a douche bag. The group that we had went with was about 16 deep. Some of these people I had never even met before, friends of friends. But there was a guy that I had met a couple times before but never really made any attempt to become friends with since he was a complete tool. But I was civil and was nice because a couple of my friends were cool with him. Next thing I now, he's chirping in my ear about shit. Asking me if this girls dating anyone and trying to convince me drunkenly that he wasn't pretentious. I had mentioned that U of M grads are for the most part pretentious assholes to find out that he was a U of M grad. I finally just walked away from him. About twenty minutes later he was getting in the face of one of my best friends. I went up to make sure everything was cool. The douche was saying that him and one of his friends wanted to fight me and my friend. Of course he had already had a couple of drinks so we just blew it off as a joke and thought nothing of it. But he kept it going for another fifteen minutes about fighting us and blabbering on about nothing. His friend was trying to contain him but was having a hell of a time convincing the kid that fighting on New Years is just plain not the time to start a ridiculous fight. But he wouldn't listen. Most of his problem was with my buddy. As you could probably figure out, this entire situation stemmed from a girl. But I won't go into any more detail on that. people were coming up and letting us know that if something did happen, that they were behind us. But why does it have to come to this? Why do people get a bunch of liquid courage in them and want to prove their manhood?
Luckily, the asshole decided to just get his coat and leave. I think we actually just gathered a small group and walked out of the bar without saying anything to the rest of our friends. Everyone crashed after a few games of Guitar Hero and that was that. I came to find out the next morning that the girl that was the reason for the ridiculous pissing contest had gotten a drunken text message from the douche bag. I shall close this post with his text.
"Hope you had a good night tonight you whore. Go get an AIDS test."
It is funny to watch how different people celebrate New Years. For many, there always seems to be that underlining common denominator of friends and booze. This is how I chose to spend my New Years Eve ushering in 2008. Our group of friends had a hard time deciding where to go for the night. So a couple of them stepped up and made an executive decision. We all went online and got our tickets for the Evil Olive, a bar that none of us had ever been to before. but it turned out pretty well. The bar was decent and the drinks were top shelf. One of the best part of this particular party was the fact that there was not a ton of people there. Since there were so many options for options for people to explore, the bar wasn't wall to wall people.
The night was turning out great. I had been drinking Johnnie Walker Black all night and we had talked the female bartender in giving us rounds of Patrone shots. Luckily, her manager didn't find out until after the 6th round. This is how I knew I would get that $90 back that I had paid to be there. But close to midnight, she was scolded and we no longer were allowed shots. Midnight hit, the balloons fell from the ceiling and everyone was happy. Friends were hugging and wishing each other a Happy New Year. I was very pleased with the way the night turned out. Until the bus boy came up to me at 12:02 and insisted that I put out my cigarette because the new law was in affect. I wasn't to pleased at this point. It could have been the Johnnie Walker or it could have been my addiction, but no matter what it was I was not pleased. At that point after the celebration, I was ready to go.
Just to add a little more to the night, here comes a douche bag. The group that we had went with was about 16 deep. Some of these people I had never even met before, friends of friends. But there was a guy that I had met a couple times before but never really made any attempt to become friends with since he was a complete tool. But I was civil and was nice because a couple of my friends were cool with him. Next thing I now, he's chirping in my ear about shit. Asking me if this girls dating anyone and trying to convince me drunkenly that he wasn't pretentious. I had mentioned that U of M grads are for the most part pretentious assholes to find out that he was a U of M grad. I finally just walked away from him. About twenty minutes later he was getting in the face of one of my best friends. I went up to make sure everything was cool. The douche was saying that him and one of his friends wanted to fight me and my friend. Of course he had already had a couple of drinks so we just blew it off as a joke and thought nothing of it. But he kept it going for another fifteen minutes about fighting us and blabbering on about nothing. His friend was trying to contain him but was having a hell of a time convincing the kid that fighting on New Years is just plain not the time to start a ridiculous fight. But he wouldn't listen. Most of his problem was with my buddy. As you could probably figure out, this entire situation stemmed from a girl. But I won't go into any more detail on that. people were coming up and letting us know that if something did happen, that they were behind us. But why does it have to come to this? Why do people get a bunch of liquid courage in them and want to prove their manhood?
Luckily, the asshole decided to just get his coat and leave. I think we actually just gathered a small group and walked out of the bar without saying anything to the rest of our friends. Everyone crashed after a few games of Guitar Hero and that was that. I came to find out the next morning that the girl that was the reason for the ridiculous pissing contest had gotten a drunken text message from the douche bag. I shall close this post with his text.
"Hope you had a good night tonight you whore. Go get an AIDS test."
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