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.
Monday, March 3, 2008
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."
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Technology Making Life Easier?
Its funny that people say technology makes our lives easier. I believe this to a certain extent. But for the most part it only makes us more frustrated, stressed and adds grey ara to that line between work life and personal life. There are many times that I feel I couldn't live without the internet, a digital camera, and now a blackberry.
My cellphone contract ended yesterday on Christmas Eve. So I figured I should go ahead and get a present for myself. It has been a longstanding tradition for me to do this. It used to get me in trouble a lot with one of my exgirlfriends. I settled on the BlackBerry Pearl.
This new toy is not going to be just be a toy. This is a new leash that I will have not only to those who know me and are demanding of my time but also to my desk and work. That is exactly what worried me when I swiped my card for the phone. Is this phone going to make my life easier or more difficult?
I am hoping that this new piece of technology isn't going to further blur the line between work and personal life. But it will most likely take some time to re-enforce that balance. But now I have absolutely no excuse for not blogging more then I have been.
To those of you who celebrate it, Merry Christmas. To the rest, have a great holiday season.
My cellphone contract ended yesterday on Christmas Eve. So I figured I should go ahead and get a present for myself. It has been a longstanding tradition for me to do this. It used to get me in trouble a lot with one of my exgirlfriends. I settled on the BlackBerry Pearl.
This new toy is not going to be just be a toy. This is a new leash that I will have not only to those who know me and are demanding of my time but also to my desk and work. That is exactly what worried me when I swiped my card for the phone. Is this phone going to make my life easier or more difficult?
I am hoping that this new piece of technology isn't going to further blur the line between work and personal life. But it will most likely take some time to re-enforce that balance. But now I have absolutely no excuse for not blogging more then I have been.
To those of you who celebrate it, Merry Christmas. To the rest, have a great holiday season.
Friday, December 21, 2007
My time as Santa
We recently had a competition at work that involved each sector of our production team decorating their area. Each team had to decorate their area to fulfill certain categories to win. These categories included areas like showcasing the different ethnicity's in your group, displaying good old American commercialized Christmas and using the decorations to reflect our sector.
Our sector got together for a team meeting and laid out a game plan. Somehow, this game plan involved a girl in our group dressing up as a giant Christmas stocking and I was to dress up like Santa. I don't know how this came about, but apparently it was written in stone. To be honest, I really didn't have a problem with being Santa. I just misspelled Santa when I was typing that sentence and I never realized how close to Satan it is. I have never dressed as Santa before and I figured that it is something that I needed to do before I die.
So a friend of mine in the office, the girl dressing as a stocking, picked me up a Santa suit and I was on my way to becoming St. Nick. This last Monday night I took the suit home with me to try it on. Once fully engulfed in Santa gear, my roommate decided it would be a good time to go out for a cigarette. SO I went out as Santa. There I am standing on a major road in Chicago outside my apartment wearing a Santa suit, smoking a Camel Wide Light. Ho ho ho. There were people walking down the sidewalk that were high-fiving me, patting me on the back, and asking me why I was out so early. Then the lady from the palm reading place spotted me and came running down the street. "Santa, Santa, you have to do me a big favor. Can you come and talk to my kids?" My first response was no. Who the hell am I? I just put this suit on five minutes ago. I don't know how to be Santa. But what the hell, it will make a good blog post since I have been slacking. My response to the palm reader went as follows, handing my smoke to my roommate, "I have to warn you, Santa has had a couple egg nogs."
The next thing I know I am standing in the middle of a complete strangers living room. There were about a dozen people in the room ranging from the age of mid 40's to 2 years old. The kids were really the only ones excited to see me. But I knew that I was safe because no one is going to kill Santa in front of their kids. The kids were all coming up to me and telling me what they wanted for Christmas. I haven't even heard most of this shit before. But I nodded and asked them if they were good. That's when the age of technology came in to play. I was starring in a video taken on a cellphone with one of the guys that was most likely in his mid twenties. He asked me what he was getting for Christmas and since I saw him smoking outside, I told him that I was bringing him cartons of Marlboro Reds. If you see this video at any time or on youtube or something. Let me know. I am interested to see how it turns out. I quickly excused myself after about 15 minutes and headed out. The little boy who was the youngest in the room ran to the window as I left and waved goodbye. I do actually hope that I made those kids night.
So that is the main part of the story. Well at least that is the part that is the most interesting. I dressed as Santa at work on Wednesday and we ended up winning our office competition. We will be leaving today at noon to head to a new "Irish Bar" here downtown for lunch and a few drinks. I say "Irish Bar" because a lot of places in Chicago claim to be an Irish bar or pub and they are nothing but a yuppie bar with an Irish flag waving.
So Ho ho ho and Merry Christmas to everyone. And if you ever are in Chicago and you want a free palm reading, let me know me because I have the hook-up.
Our sector got together for a team meeting and laid out a game plan. Somehow, this game plan involved a girl in our group dressing up as a giant Christmas stocking and I was to dress up like Santa. I don't know how this came about, but apparently it was written in stone. To be honest, I really didn't have a problem with being Santa. I just misspelled Santa when I was typing that sentence and I never realized how close to Satan it is. I have never dressed as Santa before and I figured that it is something that I needed to do before I die.
So a friend of mine in the office, the girl dressing as a stocking, picked me up a Santa suit and I was on my way to becoming St. Nick. This last Monday night I took the suit home with me to try it on. Once fully engulfed in Santa gear, my roommate decided it would be a good time to go out for a cigarette. SO I went out as Santa. There I am standing on a major road in Chicago outside my apartment wearing a Santa suit, smoking a Camel Wide Light. Ho ho ho. There were people walking down the sidewalk that were high-fiving me, patting me on the back, and asking me why I was out so early. Then the lady from the palm reading place spotted me and came running down the street. "Santa, Santa, you have to do me a big favor. Can you come and talk to my kids?" My first response was no. Who the hell am I? I just put this suit on five minutes ago. I don't know how to be Santa. But what the hell, it will make a good blog post since I have been slacking. My response to the palm reader went as follows, handing my smoke to my roommate, "I have to warn you, Santa has had a couple egg nogs."
The next thing I know I am standing in the middle of a complete strangers living room. There were about a dozen people in the room ranging from the age of mid 40's to 2 years old. The kids were really the only ones excited to see me. But I knew that I was safe because no one is going to kill Santa in front of their kids. The kids were all coming up to me and telling me what they wanted for Christmas. I haven't even heard most of this shit before. But I nodded and asked them if they were good. That's when the age of technology came in to play. I was starring in a video taken on a cellphone with one of the guys that was most likely in his mid twenties. He asked me what he was getting for Christmas and since I saw him smoking outside, I told him that I was bringing him cartons of Marlboro Reds. If you see this video at any time or on youtube or something. Let me know. I am interested to see how it turns out. I quickly excused myself after about 15 minutes and headed out. The little boy who was the youngest in the room ran to the window as I left and waved goodbye. I do actually hope that I made those kids night.
So that is the main part of the story. Well at least that is the part that is the most interesting. I dressed as Santa at work on Wednesday and we ended up winning our office competition. We will be leaving today at noon to head to a new "Irish Bar" here downtown for lunch and a few drinks. I say "Irish Bar" because a lot of places in Chicago claim to be an Irish bar or pub and they are nothing but a yuppie bar with an Irish flag waving.
So Ho ho ho and Merry Christmas to everyone. And if you ever are in Chicago and you want a free palm reading, let me know me because I have the hook-up.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
A Sledgehammer and Three Hookers
"There I am, sitting in a cab heading toward a bar in Brooklyn. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I see it is my roommate." This is how my week went from alright to shit in about three minutes.
My roommate proceeded to tell me the happenings of an undercover police raid that had just taken place at our apartment. We had been suspicious for a while since there was a lot of foot traffic up to their apartment and it always seemed to be guys walking in by themselves. We had a few situations where a "John" walked into my apartment looking for some action. Once he saw me and the extremely angry look on my face, he apologized and left. Another situation was that at about 4am we had some asshole "John" pounding on our door. A friend of ours was sleeping on the couch and awoke to let the desperate man know he was pounding on the wrong door. The last occurrence that I will mention was when I heard a bunch of noise coming from their upstairs door, which is next to our upstairs door, so I looked out the peep hole to check it out. There one of the hookers stood in a school girl skirt and a bra ushering in the next customer.
Back to the main story, my phone rang and I immediately picked it up. My roommate was all shaken up as he started telling me the story. He was sitting in his room on his computer when there was a knocking on the door, which is about 10 feet from where he sat. The knocking turned to loud banging and he went over to the door to figure out what was going on. Upon looking through the peep hole, he saw four guys in street clothes with badges and one of them swinging a sledgehammer at our door. They were yelling Chicago Police and telling him to open the door. The door had been hit with the sledgehammer three times by now as my roommate yelled that he was going to open the door. he quickly opened it and the undercover cops busted in brandishing 9mms, putting him up against the wall and pointing at least three of their weapons at his face. He started trying to tell them that he was the only one in the apartment and that they had the wrong apartment number. To explain, the apartments used to be separated by floors but were made into duplexes a few years back. The upstairs door of these ladies of the night still had the old apartment number on it wither intentionally or by accident.
Once realizing that they had the wrong apartment, they kicked in the other door and arrested its inhabitants. Three hookers in all were arrested and taken away. The cops were cool after they had the right people in custody. They told my roommate that there was a prostitution ring that was operating above us and that they had received a tip to raid the apartment. He apologized for the mix up and told him that we should hang a new sign on our door in that hallway. "This is not 2F, No Hand-Jobs Sold Here".
Since then someone has returned to the apartment. We can hear them entering the door and walking around upstairs. I went and met with my property manager yesterday afternoon. Apparently, the first that she had heard of the situation was from me. I am glad that Kass Management is up to date on the illegal activities that happen in their apartment buildings.
I asked if they were going to be evicted and she replied that she had to wait for the police report so that they knew for certain that these things had happened. That's understandable, but come check out the enormous dents in my door from the sledgehammer. She let me know that once she obtained the police report it would take about a month to evict the whores. I think that is ridiculous and I was not pleased. I told her that we wanted our November rent back since my roommate had multiple guns in his face, our door was practically busted in by the cops and that the owners of the building were oblivious to anything. Her response was that it would never happen, but she would speak to the owner of the company, and maybe he would give us $50 or something. I was in awe. She also let me know that things like this happen when you live in the city. But I reminded her that we pay a lot of money to live in a nice part of Lincoln Park. Also that a college kid smoking pot in his apartment or throwing huge noisy parties is something that happens when living in the city. Not a prostitution ring and a police raid on the wrong apartment. I think that this was an extreme situation and that they needed to do something about it. But she offered no help at the time. But she did make me aware that if we left the apartment and broke our lease that they would take us to court and ruin our credit. This is no way to conduct business. She reminded me that they were running a business and they can't just start giving out free rent. Even now, sitting here at my desk, finishing typing this story, I am getting fired up and I want to call and give her another piece of my mind.
My advice for anyone moving to Chicago or anyone looking for a new place. Stay away from Kass Management properties. Also if anyone has any advice on how to get our way with these asshole landlords, I would greatly appreciate it.
And just remember, "This is not 2F, No Hand Jobs Sold Here".
My roommate proceeded to tell me the happenings of an undercover police raid that had just taken place at our apartment. We had been suspicious for a while since there was a lot of foot traffic up to their apartment and it always seemed to be guys walking in by themselves. We had a few situations where a "John" walked into my apartment looking for some action. Once he saw me and the extremely angry look on my face, he apologized and left. Another situation was that at about 4am we had some asshole "John" pounding on our door. A friend of ours was sleeping on the couch and awoke to let the desperate man know he was pounding on the wrong door. The last occurrence that I will mention was when I heard a bunch of noise coming from their upstairs door, which is next to our upstairs door, so I looked out the peep hole to check it out. There one of the hookers stood in a school girl skirt and a bra ushering in the next customer.
Back to the main story, my phone rang and I immediately picked it up. My roommate was all shaken up as he started telling me the story. He was sitting in his room on his computer when there was a knocking on the door, which is about 10 feet from where he sat. The knocking turned to loud banging and he went over to the door to figure out what was going on. Upon looking through the peep hole, he saw four guys in street clothes with badges and one of them swinging a sledgehammer at our door. They were yelling Chicago Police and telling him to open the door. The door had been hit with the sledgehammer three times by now as my roommate yelled that he was going to open the door. he quickly opened it and the undercover cops busted in brandishing 9mms, putting him up against the wall and pointing at least three of their weapons at his face. He started trying to tell them that he was the only one in the apartment and that they had the wrong apartment number. To explain, the apartments used to be separated by floors but were made into duplexes a few years back. The upstairs door of these ladies of the night still had the old apartment number on it wither intentionally or by accident.
Once realizing that they had the wrong apartment, they kicked in the other door and arrested its inhabitants. Three hookers in all were arrested and taken away. The cops were cool after they had the right people in custody. They told my roommate that there was a prostitution ring that was operating above us and that they had received a tip to raid the apartment. He apologized for the mix up and told him that we should hang a new sign on our door in that hallway. "This is not 2F, No Hand-Jobs Sold Here".
Since then someone has returned to the apartment. We can hear them entering the door and walking around upstairs. I went and met with my property manager yesterday afternoon. Apparently, the first that she had heard of the situation was from me. I am glad that Kass Management is up to date on the illegal activities that happen in their apartment buildings.
I asked if they were going to be evicted and she replied that she had to wait for the police report so that they knew for certain that these things had happened. That's understandable, but come check out the enormous dents in my door from the sledgehammer. She let me know that once she obtained the police report it would take about a month to evict the whores. I think that is ridiculous and I was not pleased. I told her that we wanted our November rent back since my roommate had multiple guns in his face, our door was practically busted in by the cops and that the owners of the building were oblivious to anything. Her response was that it would never happen, but she would speak to the owner of the company, and maybe he would give us $50 or something. I was in awe. She also let me know that things like this happen when you live in the city. But I reminded her that we pay a lot of money to live in a nice part of Lincoln Park. Also that a college kid smoking pot in his apartment or throwing huge noisy parties is something that happens when living in the city. Not a prostitution ring and a police raid on the wrong apartment. I think that this was an extreme situation and that they needed to do something about it. But she offered no help at the time. But she did make me aware that if we left the apartment and broke our lease that they would take us to court and ruin our credit. This is no way to conduct business. She reminded me that they were running a business and they can't just start giving out free rent. Even now, sitting here at my desk, finishing typing this story, I am getting fired up and I want to call and give her another piece of my mind.
My advice for anyone moving to Chicago or anyone looking for a new place. Stay away from Kass Management properties. Also if anyone has any advice on how to get our way with these asshole landlords, I would greatly appreciate it.
And just remember, "This is not 2F, No Hand Jobs Sold Here".
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Back with a Vengeance
For all of you faithful readers out there, I apologize. I have been very busy lately and have not had much time to document life. I also feel that I started getting a little political and that is not my aim here. I strictly want to share my outrageous experiences and shameful thoughts with all of you.
The good news is that I have had quite a week. I just got home from the airport a few hours ago from my latest trip to New York. More has happened in the last week than I would like to admit. This has been one of the weirdest weeks of my life. It has been a test and I made it through with only light bruises and just about $2,200 in wrongful credit card charges that I did not authorize. I am planning on writing a story a day until I am caught up. But to be completely honest I am way to tired to put a decent post together at this time. I have been living off of coffee and adrenaline for the last 5 days and I have a feeling that my body is going to give up on me soon. Even though I think I am supposed to go out on the town tonight and have a football party at my place tomorrow. I am very proud of the fact that I will be taking Monday off to try and rest. But now that is going to be cut short because I need to head over to the landlord's to talk about the police raid and the asian hookers. Yeah, I know, I just caught your interest. That will be tomorrow's story.
The good news is that I have had quite a week. I just got home from the airport a few hours ago from my latest trip to New York. More has happened in the last week than I would like to admit. This has been one of the weirdest weeks of my life. It has been a test and I made it through with only light bruises and just about $2,200 in wrongful credit card charges that I did not authorize. I am planning on writing a story a day until I am caught up. But to be completely honest I am way to tired to put a decent post together at this time. I have been living off of coffee and adrenaline for the last 5 days and I have a feeling that my body is going to give up on me soon. Even though I think I am supposed to go out on the town tonight and have a football party at my place tomorrow. I am very proud of the fact that I will be taking Monday off to try and rest. But now that is going to be cut short because I need to head over to the landlord's to talk about the police raid and the asian hookers. Yeah, I know, I just caught your interest. That will be tomorrow's story.
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