Logan's Dave

Vonnegut Project: Completed.

2008-02-14T19:42:00.002-06:00

23 books and 5,966 pages later, I'm done.

Remember back when I started? I knew it was going to be tough. What I didn't know is that I would be less a fan of the author whose works I treasure most.

I pains me to say and I've grown tired of his politics, most of which I actually agree with. But after reading the last three books, the last two of which are pretty much repeats of the first, I'm tired. I'm glad to be done. Glad.

So, now I'm open to reading new things, after almost exactly 8 months of the same author. I welcome your suggestions.

More later. For real this time.

Wow

2007-12-31T17:39:00.000-06:00

So, I haven't blogged in almost 2 months. Miss me?

Here's a quick Vonnegut project update:

I'm almost done, which is good. I'm learning a bad lesson here: most of his books have similar themes. I'm tired, I'm bored. I have so much else I need to get done.

But with under 1000 pages to go, the light at the end of the tunnel is there.

More later? Maybe. If I have time, which I probably won't. Here's my favorite picture from my trip to Barbados in early December:

So, I've reached THAT age.

2007-11-01T16:39:00.000-05:00

I was talking with my brother a couple weeks ago about my upcoming trip to Toronto for Accordion Guy's birthday this weekend. I'm trying to put together a trip to Kitchener so I can go see the first hockey team I ever saw play live, the Waterloo Siskins. The conversation went something like this:

"I'm totally stoked about this- it'll be my first time seeing them in ages, what, like, 21 years or so?"

"Wait. When did you see them?"

"It must have been right around when you were born, because only dad and I went. I'd say Spring of 1976."

"D," said my brother, "That was THRITY-one years ago."

Ok, so I'm no longer carrying the one any more. I would have thought of this as an isolated incident, if it hadn't been for a comment I made while speaking with one of our inventory reps today. I had made a comment that sounded like something someone under 10 would say, voraciously juvenile and silly. Then:

"Wow, is it just me, or did maturity levels just drop by about 15 years?"

"[laughing] That sounds about right, funny though."

"Wait. Shit. I just did the math again. 15 years ago I was 19."

"Ouch."

"Ok, call it 25, then!"

So, I guess I've reached that age where decades become less important- or, at the very least, much harder to keep track of. This is unfortunate, but manageable.

Counting the times....

2007-10-04T18:44:00.001-05:00

I've been working on this since Friday, when a slightly crazed er Doctor put me on some mega-dose anti-biotics: how long has it been since I had a completely sober birthday?

I went back through the past 5 knowing that there wasn't a time I wasn't out drinking for my birthday. Perhaps most legendary (blog-wise) was my 30th birthday, where I woke up the day after the party still wearing everything buy my hockey jersey. Boots and all, folks. Boots and all.

As best as I can figure, my 17th birthday was my last sober birthday. 18th, I was at a baseball game and snuck some beer. After that was college, turning 21, and all that jazz.

On my 21st birthday, FYI, I went to the same liquor store I had been going for 2 years. They said 'hi Dave' when I walked in and everything. It still seems wondrous that they never, ever carded me.

So, I've been sober for this one, and well, oh well. Worse things could happen. After all, I've got a brand new Wii to keep things light and painkillers to boot!

Vonnegut Update

2007-09-21T18:11:00.000-05:00

I haven't posted one of these in a while- mostly because I got hung up on one book. Specifically, Wampeters, Foma and Granfalloons, a collection of essays, speeches, and an interview. I won't lie or try to beat about the bush about this, but I was bored shitless trying to read this book.

While I understand the historical implications of the things he discussed in these books, most of them mattered so little to me that I couldn't even feign interest to myself. There was no small amount of joy in my heart when I finished it Wednesday on the way home from work. I can only estimate, but I believe it took me at least a month to read those 288 pages.

Today, however, I had the distinct pleasure of beginning my favorite Vonnegut novel, Slapstick. Something about this book just represents the best parts of Vonnegut to me. That something is the cunningly absurd idea which wins the main character the presidency- the idea of artificial middle-names to create extended families. It is a fun idea because it would mean a great deal to a great many people living far away from their origins, far from their families.

I've recently been exposed to a wide network of extended family- mind you, I already have one myself- in the Assassin's family. She has probably 4 times the number of cousins I do, and most of them live in or around Chicago. Well, most of the ones I've met so far. I digress.

The other thing I really love about this book is the duality of Wilbur and Eliza- the genius they create when they're together.

It appeals to the romantic in me.

Years ago, I started writing a novel, and the first line was a tribute to this book. I still remember it, too:

"I am in New York. It is raining."

Chapter 1 of Slapstick begins:

"To whom it may concern:
It is springtime. It is late afternoon."

The sad thing about starting this book today is that I only started reading it on my way home from work, catching the 3:45 train home. I finished the book about half an hour ago. This saddens be because if I wanted to write a movie based on this novel, I would probably take about the same amount of time to tell the story, perhaps a little longer. That, and I feel like I didn't get time to really enjoy it.

Ah well, as we all know, the show must go on, and I must keep reading. I have just crossed the halfway point in terms of pages on this project:

In other news, I am sick. I am in a bad mood, despite having just read my favorite novel. The mood is mostly work related. The sickness is mostly throat related, after being sinus related earlier this week, which means no karaoke for me. Hopefully it will pass soon. As always, there will be more later.

Uncle Logan's Dave, Part II: Electric Boogaloo

2007-09-10T22:11:00.000-05:00

The irony of today isn't lost on me, I personally guarantee it.

Today my friend Rick was buried. We're having a drinking wake on Friday night, which will undoubtedly be a very late night.

Today the Assassin's parents celebrated their 30th wedding anniversary with dinner with myself, the Assassin, and the Assassin's little sister.

I also had my tooth, well, now lack of tooth, check-up today. Everything looks ok, so I'm happy, the Doc's happy, and that's good enough for me.

My sister T, also gave birth to a baby girl tonight. My father reports baby, mama, and papa are all well. Pictures, and the properly spelled name (my dad wasn't sure how her name is spelled yet) are coming soon!

Rest in Peace, Ricky V

2007-09-06T19:44:00.001-05:00

I just heard that my friend Rick, who was barely older than me, died of a heart attack yesterday. He was a good friend.

He was a good friend because he would always turn into the most emotional guy ever, after about 4 drinks. Many a night he told me he loved me and got teary and swilled another gin and tonic while chomping on a cigar. That was usually when he would start offering to buy me scotch, or sketch, depending on your understanding.

Speaking of scotch, he was a good friend because he made the most daring bets. He spent more than a few nights sitting at my table making outrageous bets while playing poker. Sometimes he won. Usually, he lost.

He always brought good beer.

He once bet me a bottle of scotch that he could beat me at a game of Air Hockey, and he was determined to win. Given my prowess at air hockey, it was a fool's bet, and I never actually collected my reward. Not that it matters now.

He was a big friendly guy who would always share what he had, no matter how broke he was. I always admired that about him.

Rest in Peace, my old friend.

Got a tattooed tit- say number 13

2007-09-04T22:44:00.000-05:00

Wow. I've gone a whole month without a post.

A month and three days for those of you scoring at home.

There's been a lot happening, however, the Vicodin haze plus the pain plus the dirty glasses make reading the screen and typing about the past month seem crazy.

Let me explain that significantly vague sentence by briefly summing up how I got into that state.

Last Monday, I felt like I had something stuck between my teeth. Last Tuesday I had a mild toothache. Last Wednesday I hurt so much I left work early and went to the dentist. After a couple pokes and prods, and an X-ray, I was told I had broken my tooth, specifically, that crazy #13. The break seemed to be a part of a missing filling that went bad quickly after the filling went missing. The break was such that it went below my gum-line, which probably caused a great deal of my pain. Not to mention the exposed nerve. My dentist gave me a referral to go to an oral surgeon to have #13 removed, and a couple of prescriptions- one for antibiotics, one for pain, my sweet old friend Vicodin.

Unfortunately, my appointment got out after 5, so I couldn't call that day. I called the next day, hoping to get a Friday afternoon slot. No dice. They're closed on Friday for the holiday weekend. They're closed on Monday, too, but that's not the surprise. They had a 2pm slot, but I had already eaten that day, so it was botched. I had no choice but to wait until today.

So wait I did, and kept a steady flow of drugs going. Finally, this afternoon, out it came, and although it hurt like hell, I must say, I feel so much better.

I'll try to tell you about the rest of my month tomorrow. Just hold tight.

Perhaps the most tense 15 minutes of my life.

2007-08-01T21:18:00.000-05:00

When I was in High School, I bought more than a few pregnancy tests and spent some serious moments hoping that I wasn't going to be a father. Honestly, as the product of a teenage pregnancy, the biggest fear you have is repeating the cycle. That being said, I can remember each time with excruciating detail.

Tonight overshadowed every single one of those moments. The 15 minutes between me finding out about the bridge collapse in Minneapolis (the bridge my father takes home from work) when my mother told me that my brother couldn't reach my father and finding out that my father was, in fact, alive and well.

Now I just have to call all my friends- except that no one can get through on a cellphone right now.

18 years ago

2007-07-23T17:26:00.000-05:00

18 years ago today, I was a frustrated, heartbroken young man. I had just broken up with my girlfriend, and I was really depressed. She was the first girl I ever used the L word with, and boy did we have plans.

This, of course, was before I adopted the Beatles' philosophy:

It's a love that lasts forever/It's a love that has no past

But this isn't even close to the point of the story.

Back then, I had decided I needed a job. I needed a steady income source, and I needed to fill up my suddenly very much free time. I had spoken with people at an office where my dad had some significant influence, and was told that the manager who was in charge of hiring was on his honeymoon, so I wouldn't hear anything for at least a couple weeks. 'Great, more spare time' I thought to myself. I went back to being a depressed and lonely young man.

One Sunday morning, say the 23rd of July, 1989, I was sleeping, as I used to do, when the phone rang. My mother came and woke me up, which was largely an unpopular move with me. "Your father wants to speak with you." I awoke barely enough to say hi.

"Get dressed and have your mother drop you off here."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at [soulless company that stole my youth] and they're short today. They need you to come in and help out."

"Ok."

"And dress nice."

"Ok."

"And hurry."

"Ok."

I hurried into the shower. I hurried into some clothes. My mom hurried me to the office, and so began my 10-year career at [soulless company that stole my youth]. By the time I was finished, I had held 4 titles based in 3 different cities, including a stint in the corporate offices. I traveled extensively throughout the Midwest and logged quite a few miles between Chicago and New York City. At the peak of my career, I was making more money than I ever had before or since.

Well, save for last year, and get this- I only worked for 7 months last year. Didn't I tell you it was a big severance package? Imagine if I had accepted this offer.

How am I marking this illustrious and somehow painful anniversary?

I'm not.

I know- such a rebel.

Oh, and a Vonnegut Project update

2007-07-19T20:15:00.000-05:00

I'm 38 days into the Vonnegut Project. Here's what the big spreadsheet looks like these days:

I'm having a lot of fun with this, although I'm noticing a lot of similarities in his early works. I'll report more later.

There is too much... let me sum up

2007-07-19T19:34:00.000-05:00

There's been a crazy couple of weeks in my life. I won't lie to you, it has been fun. Let me try to debrief y'all as best I can.

First off, my typing is extremely hampered by a finger injury. We were playing softball on Monday and I happened to catch a ball, throw it to the pitcher and head back to my position at 3rd base, when I looked down and saw something like this:
In case you haven't picked it out, my middle finger, once bent, does not straighten back up. It makes for an interesting party trick, but also makes using said finger, well, not really painful, but definitely inconvenient.

And yes, I am planning on going to the doctor, but not today. Maybe tomorrow.

A second, rather interesting story is that I finally met the Assassin's father. We had been avoiding this for some time, as we figured the Muslim father probably wouldn't appreciate the white, atheist boyfriend with the shaved head and penchant for, well, let's say things father's don't like.

We loaded up the Assassin, her sister, and myself into the Assassin's Champagne Monster, her massive Toyota 4Runner, and we headed south. Very south. Like 159th street- some 199 city blocks from my street. We were heading to a family barbecue, so we packed extra hunger. One thing I learned about their family- they sure love to eat. Second thing I learned- they think I haven't had Pakistani food before. Third thing- her aunt makes the best Biryani I've had yet.

The Assassin's father has a firm, friendly handshake. He gave me one, and patted me on the shoulder as he invited me into his house. The inside exploded with the smell of great food, so we had appetizers and pico de gallo. One was made by him, the other by his wife. He made me try both. I answered completely honestly when I told him I liked his better- then I told him about how much I love garlic. The main course wasn't served until much later- after I met more cousins than I have (and nowhere near all of them). We ate plentifully. We talked at length.

In the end, her dad was interested in my cycling hobby- he's thinking about getting another bike, but doesn't want to go into the bike shop because he's intimidated. I told him I'd go anytime. He likes the fact that I raise money for MS. He likes the fact that I'm the new voicemail voice of my company. He even make me play it for him, then asked me if I'd be willing to record his voicemail system.

How could I say no?

At the end of the night, he gave me another warm, friendly handshake. And a fatherly chuck on the shoulder. On the whole, I think things went rather well. I even liked him a lot- he was fun and jovial, even self-defacing at times. I got a kick out of it.

Recently, I had a chance to take a couple walks down memory lanes- visiting places I haven't been in literally years. One of the places served me well by giving me bowling shoes than can only be described as day-glow clown shoes. We proceeded to visit various bars around the legendary bowling alley before I started getting uncomfortable, and worse, recognized. We high-tailed it out of there, and went for some Karaoke, my first time going in more than a month.

I miss karaoke.

I have another amazing, silly, reckless story that involves my friend from this story, three states, and this picture:

Vonnegut Project Update

2007-07-07T09:09:00.000-05:00

Step 1: Buy, Buy, Buy

I don't spend a huge percentage of my budget on books, but I am certainly no stranger to a bookstore, or to an online bookstore. One of the nicest part of commuting downtown is I can do my Sukoku and crossword in the morning and usually finish before I get to work, and then read on the way home. It makes for a happy Dave. One of the first projects I had to undertake was completing my Vonnegut collection. I discovered that I was missing 6 rbooks, three of which I picked up while I was shopping for a belated birthday present for my father. Three others I had to buy online, as they did not seem to be available in stores. They arrived last week, so my collection now looks a little something like this:

Step 2: Read, Read, Read.
As you can see from the above list, I have just over 5,900 pages of Vonnegut to read, of which, I have completed about 600. These 600 haven't gone by too quickly, but once I get into certain other books, they'll fly by. I started this project on June 11, and in the following 27 days, I've only finished one book, but I'm close to finishing number two.

So far, I can say this. Player Piano is not one of my favorite books, but I can understand why. Vonnegut hadn't really found his own voice yet, and his style wasn't quite his. The ending isn't that great, and the story, at times, seems to drag, especially the sub-plot involving the sumklish-guzzling Shah of Bratpuhr. I understand how his character is essential to driving the point home, however, he's just so uninteresting to me.

The Siens of Titan, however, is one of my favorites, and I'm enjoying rereading it again. Each time I read this book, I think of another way I'd like to turn it into a movie. Of all his books, this would be the one I'd want to do first. Who knows, maybe after this project, I'll take a screen writing class or two and see what I can come up with.

And we're back!

2007-06-29T17:21:00.001-05:00

The busyness of the first half of the year is behind me. Now I get to explore the free time that I usually don't have.

Well, kinda.

In reality, if I'm going to do a second big bike ride this year, and I think I am, I need to keep training. I have to admit, however, that a big part of me doesn't want to do it, just cut up my knee and make me better so I can move on to better things.

Speaking of better things, I would like to introduce the new voice of our new phone system at work:

That's right. Me. And after hearing accolades all day long, and hearing about how I should work in voice overs professionally, and how I should be on the radio, I have to admit two things.

1) I need to get promoted quickly. It severely cuts into your productivity when you spend half of each phone call saying "yes it was me," "thanks, I'm glad you liked it," "no, I don't foresee a radio gig in the future," and "were you actually calling for a reason or just to praise me?" Of course, they were never said in that precise order.

2) I have never been happier to be away from my desk. I have never been more tempted to say "hm, maybe this voice over thing would be fun. Maybe I would like it. Maybe I will finally make my millions that way." These thoughts are usually squashed by the "why not just win the lottery and not worry about it" and "I've heard that business is quite cutthroat- not exactly my cup of tea." And so the debate rages on in my mind, until I consume enough beer to make it stop, or just find something else to pay attention to.

These pictures, by the way, were taken with my new cell phone, which does just about everything a cell phone could do- essentially an iPhone just not made my Apple. And it didn't cost me $600. And I got it last week. And it doesn't suck. Although, I haven't quite been able to use blogger through it yet...

New project.

2007-06-11T22:32:00.000-05:00

I've given myself a new project. This could be my favorite so far, as it doesn't actually tax my already taxed spare time (don't even get me started about Jersey companies, you'll hear a rant that lasts an hour).

As anyone who as ever read this blog should surely know, my favorite author is the late-great Kurt Vonnegut. After his death, I made a promise myself that, after I finished the book I was reading, I would read each book of his in chronological order. This required that I a) make a list of all Kurt Vonnegut novels, and b) make a list of the ones I own. It turns out that I own all but 6- although one (my personal favorite) was most heinously stolen by a certain ex-girlfriend who I sincerely hope is rotting wherever she happens to be.

Anyways, I started today, with Player Piano. Definitely not one of my favorites, but that is where it started, so that's where I'm starting. I'll keep y'all updated, though, because I know you're riveted!

Happy B-Anniversary, baby!

2007-06-06T11:35:00.000-05:00

For those of you scoring at home, it has been 365 days since the glorious e-nuptials between this blog, and Naked Knit Girl. We've had some good times in that year, a rough spot when this blog went into a mini-hiatus for a while, but, if you're like my step-mom, your big question is...

"When are you due?"

Meaning, of course, when are you having children? NKG and I haven't actually talked about b-children, but I'll ask her about it sometime soon.

In my non e-life, I told my step-mom that I'm still not in a hurry to reproduce. The Assassin and I have talked about things like this, marriage and children and all. Her goal is to have a child before she reaches the same age her mother had her, which means the clock has about 3 years left on it. We've only known each other a year, so unless we just dive right in, my goal of having "crotch fruit" by 35 is definitely in jeopardy.

Reality still is, I'm not worried. I'm not in a hurry.

Oh, and happy b-anniversary:

I will never do karaoke in the Phillippines because...

2007-05-31T14:28:00.000-05:00

of this article.

In other news, I'm way too busy to blog lately. I think y'all expected as such. Apologies.

More later.

Five to One, Baby, One to Five

2007-05-17T18:16:00.000-05:00

As a special treat to the 2 people who still read my blog, here's a five part story to amuse and delight all:

Windy City Riding
Chicago is called the Windy City not because of the wind off the lake- but because of the politics of the late 19th century, and well, honestly, the wind off the lake is pretty fuckin' strong. I had planned with a few of the bike team members to go riding on Saturday afternoon, which seemed like a great idea. I haven't been training enough, and I need to get back on the horse. So, off I went to meet them by the Buckingham Fountain, and I felt great. I was just flying down the bike path, and met up with my friends just north of the fountain. They suggested riding north first, because of the wind. I suggested riding south to avoid the growing number of people crowing the north side of lakefront.

So, south we went, and we flew. I checked my computer at the end of my ride, and I had topped out at 27 miles an hour- not bad for a guy who is far too out of shape. Riding back north wasn't as much fun. The wind was fierce, but we made it through teamwork- drafting off of each other the whole way. At one rest point, I was talking with a friend about my plans for the evening. I couldn't decide whether or not I wanted to go see playoff hockey or a certain Canadian band who writes songs about hockey. His suggestion: "We'll, I'm single tonight, too, so I'd say let's go to the hockey game."

I told him I'd think about it, and as we continued north, I told him I'd check for tickets when I got home, and I went home to check for tickets. Sadly, Ticketmaster wasn't helping me much, so I walked away from the computer to see if I could get a better pair of seats. By the time I got back, they had taken that night's game off of the Internet. If we wanted to go, we would have to buy tickets at the door.

I get tired and hungry.
I sat there, wasting time, avoiding everything, wishing I hadn't ridden so much. I waffled. I didn't want to go out at all, much less to my two fun ideas. I started fucking around on the computer, and listening to music. In reality, I was trying to come up with a good enough excuse to tell my friend to not go with either plan.

Then, as though inspiration could only do, Hit Somebody by Warren Zevon came up in the shuffle. A light shone through a window, and highlighted my silhouette. I was seeing the light. We had to go to the game.

I quickly made arrangements for a car, and called him. We made the informed and proper decision to go. He hopped on a train to my house, and I hopped in the shower to finally wash up.

The Fire
As we headed west from my apartment, we were listening to a certain band whose concert I was blatantly NOT attending despite advice to the contrary and we saw smoke. Not just a little bit, either, but a huge plume trailing off to the southwest. Traffic was backed up for ages, and we had dawdled enough time away to make getting to the game on time challenging at best.

I mustered all my Chicago navigational abilities and took off on a side road. My determination to be at the game definitely came through. We had finally driven north of the fire and got on the expressway. Traffic wasn't too bad, so we flew towards the arena. As I exited and headed north on Mannheim Road, we were quickly approaching the arena when I spotted it, just off the street. The one symbol that everything was going to be ok. Not just ok, but good. Not just good, but excellent. Not just excellent, but what would turn into one the greatest nights of my life.

The Weinermobile.

It wasn't my first live, in-person Weinermobile sightings, but something about it just told me everything was going to be ok.

The Tickets
We ran from the car to the ticket window. Ran. The website said the game was at 7, our watches said it was 6:55. We didn't have time to spare at all. As we finally got the window, I asked for two tickets. "Ok, I've got anywhere from twelve dollars up to fift-" the helpful ticket window guy said before I interrupted.

"You have on ice seats?" I sputtered, excited as hell at the prospect of being that close.

"Yep, but you have to pay cash because I've already pulled them." I worked as a Ticketmaster jockey at Tower for years. I knew the pains you got during onsales when you pulled a set of tickets that were suddenly returned for whatever reason. I knew what that guy would go through if he didn't sell them.

"Wanna do it?" I said to my friend who hadn't sat on the glass for a Wolves game. Me, I've been there. But I hadn't been where we were going to sit. "Where are they?" I said to the helpful ticket window guy.

"Section 107, seats 5 and 6." He said. That made the seats on the ice, between the corner and the opposing team's goal.

"We'll take them," we said in unison.

The Seats.
We hurried into the arena, still under the impression that we were late. We were in an especially big hurry because we knew how good the seats were, and that the Wolves' entrance show would be not only right by us, but the flames shooting from the wolf paws should be exceptionally fun.

We were grossly incorrect.

Gametime was actually about 7:20, so we had not only time to get a couple Polish and Blues, but time enough to lament that neither of us had a camera with us- something I almost always try to have with me at a game. A quick survey of the concession stands revealed that they didn't sell any, either. Our options were limited when my friend said "I have a camera phone."

We took our seats. We tested the camera. It worked, but we had no idea how good the shots would be. Here's one from the 3rd period:

Here's a faceoff from the second period:

And here's the goalie:

What you can't see is on the back of his helmet, there's a cross painted. A good Christian goalie, he was. T being T the recovering Catholic, and me being the unapologetic atheist, well, we had to come up with a Jesus-the-goalie joke. Wanna hear it?

"Why isn't Jesus a very good goalie?"

"Sure, no five-hole, but it's hard to stop a puck with your hands nailed to the posts."

Oh, and the sweetest part of the story? Not only did we score a goal 6 seconds into the second period, we clinched the series with a 5-1 victory.

How I Met Your Mother

2007-05-06T20:58:00.000-05:00

I've had a busy weekend. Yesterday, I had a bike ride in the morning, followed by a charity bowl-a-thon with the Assassin's work (which featured the classic quote "you must be Dave- you're wearing the Homer shirt."). I'd like to say I fought the good fight, but I did not bowl very well. I blamed being sober and the sun being up. These are two things I don't usually associate with a fun activity like bowling.

After bowling I dropped the Assassin off at her cousin's house and drove her car to my house so I could get some things done. Besides, I had just spend the afternoon meeting all her co-workers. I wasn't really in the mood to meet the extended family. At least, not right then. A couple hours later I got a call. "I'm on my way to your house, and we need to go to the grocery store."

I was aware of that part of the plan, and more than ready for it. "No problem."

"Oh, and I need you to drive. There was vodka at my cousin's house."

"No problem."

"And then we're going to go to my house so I can make mango pico de gallo and you're going to meet my mother."

I'm not usually short for words, but I was stopped dead in my tracks. We've been intentionally avoiding the meeting of the parents, partially because we're both, as I call it, emotionally insulated. It took quite a while before we realized that we're both very serious about each other, an now that we're here, we're finally forced to address a couple issues. One of which, is me meeting her parents.

Now, back in the day, this used to happen fairly often, as I dated more seriously more often. Then for a while, there was a long-term relationship where one of the parents weren't supposed to know the nature of our relationship. Then there was a time where it seemed the people I was dating either had deceased parents or parents who lived in other states, and once, in another country. So, it is safe to say that yes, it has been a while since I've really had to go for parental approval.

"No problem."

"It'll just be a for a bit- besides I need you to distract her from the fact that I'm drunk."

I've noticed that when it comes to the Assassin's timetables, it is best to multiply whatever number she gives you by pi. That usually gives you a slightly better idea as to what time you're dealing with. So when she explained to me that it would only be for "about 10 or 15 minutes" I was ready for a good 50 minutes minimum of parental cross-examining. That's what I was ready for, not what I got.

A solid hour later, I had spent most of the time there just being myself, chatting with her mom, watching Emeril, being sent to the convenience store in her lobby, taking out trash, and just trying to be a helpful, nice guy. The Assassin even left us alone for a bit, and she asked me about where I was from. Not exactly the easiest question to answer, but I somehow impressed her with the number of cities and states, even provinces I have lived in in my life.

The assassin and I left for our party, and when we got there, I went outside with one of her friends to smoke. Well, I went out to talk while her friend smoked. We talked about meeting her mom, mostly, and then about our own problems with our parents which are in various levels of estrangement. I think that helped a lot. Or maybe it was the margarita I had. Maybe both.

I was invited to have lunch with mom today. Lunch included the Assassin's little sister and her boyfriend, both in their very early 20's. It was fun. It was Pakistani food. It was yummy.

Afterwards, I got the official review- "I like him, but he seems a little quiet."

Wait until she gets to know me.

Duck Thoughts by Jack Handey

2007-05-03T09:23:00.000-05:00

As I was riding the train to work today, I (as I do every day) took a moment and looked at the Chicago River. Today, I saw a duck swimming along, looking somewhat like a jogger. I wondered to myself "at what point does a duck just say 'aw, fuck it. I'm swimming to work today'?"

I mean, the Chicago River isn't known for having a lovely scent to it, so I can't really tell why anyone, even a duck, would want to spend extra time in it. Not to mention the fact that ducks can fly, and that's got to be a much more fun way to get around than swimming. More efficient, too.

Refresher course

2007-04-22T10:05:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was the nicest day in Chicago since sometime last October. Today is shaping up to be actually better than yesterday. I started out by going to my local CVS, as the Gatorade I had bought last year had white stuff floating in it, and that just didn't seem like a good thing, so I bought more. Now, I'm not sure how many of you shop at a CVS, but their extra care rewards system totally pisses me off. I never seem to remember to bring back the little receipt dealies to actually reap the rewards of spending more at my local drug store. I just don't, and well, I get ripped off. Nothing too harsh, but still, the principle is there. Yesterday, however, I hit the mega-jackpot or something, as you can see in the picture- just for perspective, that is my size 12 foot next to the receipt of doom that printed out for my 5 bottles of Gatorade, 3 packs of gum and glasses repair kit.

The wonderful weather, of course, means that it's time to get out and bike, which I did. I was so looking forward to really opening up on the new bike, which I did, but only a bit- top speed was only about 24 mph. The more aggravating statistic is that I got my first flat tire on my new bike at 9.8 miles. Nine point eight miles. I was mad, but fortunately for me, I always carry a spare tube and a nice CO2 pump. So, I set upon changing a flat tire at the corner of Lake Shore Drive and Monroe, being ogled by tourists heading to Navy Pier for a while. Until I noticed that things weren't quite fitting right. I got frustrated, and called a buddy, who wasn't at home. I then looked up and saw a sign- not quite like the burning bush, or the Bethlehem star, but a sign nonetheless. And lo, it said unto me "Bike Station 1/2 mile."

Quite literally, I thought I was saved. I was certain they would have repair guys that would help me get my tire fixed and re-inflated, as I had run out of CO2 in my pump.

I collected all my belongings and hoisted my bike onto my shoulder (fortunately, my new bike weighs about a much as a heavy bowling ball, so this wasn't a big deal) and hiked over to the McDonald's Cycle Center (nothing represents a greener, healthier Chicago quite like McDonald's!). Where incompetent helper #1 told me the repair guys weren't in, and that he had no tubes, except in a vending machine downstairs, but you'd need change to get anything out of there, but he didn't have a cash drawer, so he couldn't make any change. Much more competent helper #2 not only spent half his time correcting everything helper #1 said, but managed to not only do me a favor by finding a Presta valve adapter. So, about an hour after getting said flat, and after all the struggles, I was back on my bike, heading north to home, because I was just plain too pissed off to keep going. So, yesterday's ride, for those of you scoring at home, was 19.8 miles.

And, as always, I have complaints about the other users of the bike path, but I think I'll let Stephen Colbert do the talking for me: Just to warn everyone on this list- sometime this summer, I'm going to start taking pictures of you doing these idiotic things and I'm going to post them all over the internet. It'll be so much fun!

And just because I feel like it, here's a scary picture of my cat attacking my camera:

I guess I should have known

2007-04-14T15:30:00.000-05:00

by the way U parked your car sideways
That it wouldn't last
See, U're the kinda person that believes in makin' out once
Love 'em and leave 'em fast
I guess I must be dumb cuz U had a pocket full of horses
Trojan and some of them used
But it was Saturday night, I guess that makes it all right
And U say - "What have I got 2 lose?"

And honey, I say Little Red Corvette
Baby, U're much 2 fast (Oh)
Little Red Corvette
U need a love that's gonna last

I guess I should've closed my eyes when U drove me 2 the place
Where your horses run free
Cuz I felt a little ill when I saw all the pictures
Of the jockeys that were there before me
Believe it or not, I started 2 worry
I wondered if I had enough class
But it was Saturday night, I guess that makes it all right
And U say - "Baby, have U got enough gas?"
Oh yeah!

Little Red Corvette
Baby, U're much 2 fast (Yes U are)
Little Red Corvette
U need 2 find a love that's gonna last (Oh, oh)

A body like yours oughta be in jail
Cuz it's on the verge of bein' obscene
Move over, baby, gimme the keys
I'm gonna try 2 tame your little red love machine

Little Red Corvette
Baby, U're much 2 fast
Little Red Corvette
Need 2 find a love that's gonna last, hey hey

Little Red Corvette
Honey, U got 2 slow down (Got 2 slow down)
Little Red Corvette
Cuz if U don't, U’re gonna run your little red corvette right inthe ground
(Little Red Corvette)
Right down 2 the ground (Honey, U got 2 slow down)
U, U, U got 2 slow down
(Little Red Corvette)
U're movin' much 2 fast, 2 fast
Need 2 find a love that's gonna last!

Girl, U got an ass like I never seen, ow!
And the ride...
I say the ride is so smooth, U must be a limousine

Ow!
Baby, U're much 2 fast
Little Red Corvette
U need a love, U need a love that's, uh, that's gonna last
(Little Red Corvette)
Babe, U got 2 slow down (U got 2 slow down)
Little Red Corvette
Cuz if U don't, cuz if U don't
U’re gonna run your body right into the ground (Right into theground)
Right into the ground (Right into the ground)
Right into the ground (Right into the ground)

Little Red Corvette, oh
Introducing my own Little Red Corvette, the Specialized Allez Elite, my newest bike. It may not be the bike I walked in to buy, but it is better than the one I was going to buy. She is so fast. I can't wait to take it out for a tour!

Oh, and the guy on the back of the Zamboni? That's Steve from the Jerry Springer Show. I just thought it was funny. The eye candy is just that, eye candy, and the Seiss is well, just the Seiss.

So it goes.

2007-04-12T09:17:00.000-05:00

You could count my age without using all ten fingers on your hands when I first picked up a copy of Slaughterhouse Five. I recall my father handing it to me with explicit instructions not to let anyone see me reading it- that is, he didn't want my teachers and classmates, etc, to catch on that I was reading a book that had such prolific uses of the word fuck in it.

Over the years, I've read every single one of his novels, and it is hard to find one that I don't already own (although there was a certain ex girlfriend who helped herself to a couple volumes and never returned them) not to mention the film adaptations of two of the three that I am aware of.

I've even toyed with the idea of trying to write a screenplay of one of his novels. I won't tell you which one, because a) I haven't actually written it and b) I've never written a screenplay, so I'm sure it would, frankly, suck.

Let me say this, as I have to start working now. Way back here, I wrote up a list of my heroes. After reviewing it now, I see that I completely forgot Mr. Vonnegut. This is shameful. This is misleading. This is incorrect.

We'll miss you, sir.

The CTA as Chicken Little

2007-04-03T09:14:00.000-05:00

I don't know about any other Chicagoans, but for the last two days, now that we're in the full-swing of "CTA Hell," I've left the house earlier. Yesterday, about 30 minutes earlier than usual, today about 15 minutes earlier than usual. The end result is that I'm at my desk 35 minutes early yesterday, and 25 minutes today.

Now, I don't want to jinx anything, but c'mon- doesn't this seem like Chicken Little? Discuss amongst yourselves.

Ok, ok I get it.

2007-04-01T21:35:00.001-05:00

A number of fans, well readers, actually, have been haikuing me (did I just create a verb?) because, well, my blog here has fallen on some neglected times. I'm aware of it, really, but haven't been really in a blogging mood. What's making it worse is feeling like I don't have time to do any blogging, and the feeling that all my writing efforts and skills are going into a) work and b) pub quiz.

Both of these things take up time.

Plus, let's face it, this blog was started, oh, four years ago to talking about the impending 30th birthday I had coming up back then. This Wednesday, for those of you scoring at home, will be my own and the Ginger Ninja's half birthday, I'm staring down the barrel of 34, she, well, a year less. What possible advice can I still give to someone who's about to turn 30? Nothing really, although if things keep going as well as they are now, I will be walking the Assassin through that milestone of silliness in a little more than a year.

But enough of my excuses. How about a haiku?

Logan's Dave returns
Kilteoke and Guinness
Make me quite happy.

Maybe another
To soothe my readers' feelings
I'm proud to be back.

Ok, I've had quite enough with the haikus tonight. Really, I'm just procrastinating because I am avoiding writing my pub quiz for this week. I should really get on that, too, otherwise I will disappoint the Assassin, and that can only be bad.

More later, and I promise that this isn't an April Fool's joke.

Ok, ok I get it.

2007-04-01T21:35:00.000-05:00

#3 with a bullet, baby.

2007-02-25T12:07:00.000-06:00

Last night I went to Gio's for their bi-monthly American Idol-esque karaoke contest. I had a hard time picking out what two songs I would perform for the judge's approval. Very tough. Finally, I went with an old standard, good ol' Stuck in the Middle with You, and I brought down the house, including getting a guy to perform as Marvin Nash from Reservoir Dogs. After a great deal of deliberation, and some egging on by the karaoke host, I decided to do Best Friend's Girl, and got a woman to dance with me while I sang (sorry, not the one in the picture, that's from last week's performance of Faith with my friend A). It was hot, it was steamy, it was rock and roll.

I was going to do some Johnny Cash, but was talked out of it, and it might have cost me the top prize, but I just wanted to place, which I did, #3 with a bullet, baby. My prizes? A $10 gift certificate to the bar, which is only good Monday through Friday, which is a minor inconvenience, but it'll buy me some tacos and a beer, and a $15 gift card to iTunes. I offered the iTunes card to the Assassin, because she owns an iPod and all that.

Cabspotting

2007-02-21T23:25:00.000-06:00

Worry not, my friends and readers, pneumonia didn't get me. The boogeyman didn't get me. Jeebus certainly didn't get me.

I'm just a busy man doing busy things.

A couple weeks ago I was having some kind of a banner day, I was walking to work in the morning when I spotted the cab with medallion #1. Later that evening, as I was walking down the street, lo and behold, medallion #2.

Tonight, the Assassin and I grabbed a late dinner and I saw the best cab number ever:

#666.

I cackled, I laughed. I made her think I was crazy.

None of these are stretches of the imagination, no?

9- I can only think of one way this could possibly be better.

2007-01-30T00:29:00.000-06:00

Greetings all, I am, as it were, still alive, despite all the pneumonia and shivers, and all that jazz. I'm actually getting better, and returned to work today, which was exhausting, but I really can't afford to call in sick, basically for the rest of the year.

Anyways, I was crawling around the net looking for ideas for tonight's pub quiz general knowledge round, and I found this video:

Now honestly, the only thing that could possibly improve on this is if it had occurred at Joey and Wendy's wedding. I would have definitely put in the rehearsal time for my part- barong, yarmukle and all.

8- The Story of the Night of the Hand Grenade.

2007-01-26T11:41:00.000-06:00

A week ago today, the Assassin and I landed comfortably at Louis Armstrong Airport and were waiting at the baggage claim when a jazz band walked up and started playing. We both got a big kick out of it, and enjoyed two or three songs before our bags finally came around the carousel, a process that seemed ridiculously long at best. After all that, we headed out to catch a cab downtown.

The cab was by far the worst smelling cab I had ever been in, and I've lived in Chicago and New York City. I mean, it just plain smelled. I wasn't sure if it was mold, BO or what, but it was not a pleasant 30 minute ride. It was an interesting view, though. From I-10, you can't really see how damaged the city was, but once you get closer to downtown, you notice certain things, like buildings missing some windows still, some signs are still broken and as we got off the highway, I noticed a house with the now very familiar FEMA cross on it. Over the weekend, I saw this a few times, but never took a picture of it. It was just a little too eerie.

The first thing I noticed about the French Quarter was how close the buildings were to each other. It was a little weird at first, but I grew to really like it. Especially since walking 4 blocks in the French Quarter is probably the equivalent of walking 2 in Chicago. After checked into our hotel, we went looking for dinner, as neither of us had really eaten that day. We found a nice place, had dinner, and then went wandering down Bourbon Street for a while. I noticed that there were a lot of people walking around with small plastic glasses shaped like hand grenades. We finally tracked down one of the 5 places that sold them. Now, the side of the glass proclaims the Hand Grenade as "New Orleans' strongest drink." And holy shit is it ever. We each ordered one and wander around, even visiting touchdown jeebus, where the Assassin said a little prayer for her football team, who, oddly enough, was playing the local team that Sunday.

I always get a kick out of it when she's religious.

After wandering some more, and being thwarted in our attempt to have a voodoo palm reading, we settled into the Tropical Isle, the home of the Hand Grenade. We had a few drinks and talked a lot with the bartenders. We threw plastic hand grenades into a net hanging from the ceiling. She got hit on by some drunken idiots while she was trying to talk on the phone. It was, all in all, a fun night.

Then, I decided I wanted to keep one of the glasses, so I ordered another one. The Assassin bought me some beads, and we snapped this lovely picture, perhaps the last one of the night where I didn't look completely wrecked. We walked back to our hotel, which was fortunately very, very close and ran into another couple in the elevator. "You guys are having hand grenades tonight, huh? I had one of those once- it took me most of the night to finish it."

The guy seemed nice enough, and I was in a making-friends mood. "Oddly, this is my second. I'm not sure what kind of morning we're going to have."

"Good luck with that!"

"Thanks man, bye!" We crawled into bed and passed out pretty much right away. The sad thing about this entire story? It was 11:30.

New Orleans' strongest drink? It definitely gets my vote.

7- I went to New Orleans with a cold and came back with a "mild case of walking pneumonia."

2007-01-25T10:24:00.000-06:00

I called my new doctor's office yesterday while I was home sick from work. After several attempts to contact a living person, I finally got through to them. I made arrangements to meet with a different doctor than my PCP, because he wasn't in. After several rounds of questions, and several different concerts performed by my lungs for the singular benefits of my new doctor's colleague and med student, the verdict was in: I have a mild case of walking pneumonia.

Well, this just plain sucks, friends and neighbors. I'm stuck at home again today, and still feeling like crap warmed over in the microwave. At least now I'm on the antibiotics, which are yummy-yummy, but I'm still having an allergic reaction to something, as my hands, feet, and lips are still swollen and itchy. Needless to say, this is not a very good day to be Logan's Dave.

I suspect the allergic reaction is coming from the cough drops I was previously using. I have now switched to Ricola's all-natural in hopes that there's some chemical in the Hall's that's making me break out so horribly. I'm also probably going to schedule some time with an allergist to see what the hell it is that gets me all swellered up like this. In the mean time, I'm going to quit typing, because I can barely feel the keys.

6- Not quite a Foreigner song.

2007-01-24T09:00:00.000-06:00

I've been pretty sick lately- a cough, runny nose, the usual, run-of-the-mill winter ailment that seems to go around every January- not quite the flu, but definitely not the picture of health I usually am. Well, a few years ago, I had was in a similar situation, and I was very sick, and suddenly felt much worse. My hands, lips and feet were swollen. I called Jen, who called her mother, who said "get some Benadryl in him right now."

After a trip to the local drug store, she came over, and fed me drugs. We went to bed, and at some point, I got up in the middle of the night, took three steps towards my bedroom door, and passed out, falling right on my nose. It was at that point that I took more Benadryl. In the morning, I called in sick and called my doctor, who said I had had an allergic reaction- obviously nothing life-threatening, but he was concerned enough to prescribe an Epi-Pen to me, and made me carry it with me where ever I did go.

This morning, my alarm went off, and knowing that I really just wanted sleep, I hit the snooze bar more than a couple times, and finally got up around 7:30. I noticed rather quickly that I felt a little funky. I got up, and noticed my feet felt heavy. I looked down, and they were slightly swollen. I looked at my hands, and they were also swollen. I bit my lip, and I couldn't feel it.

Around about this point, I thought to myself "shit."

I've been trying all morning to contact my doctor's office, which has prooved exceedingly difficult. Finally, I discovered that they aren't even open until 10:30, which isn't all that helpful anyways, as I also found they aren't just around the corner from my house, but in fact several miles away. Suddenly, I'm feeling my choice to go with an HMO instead of a PPO in order to save money on surgery I will need to have soon might be in error.

Not to worry, though, loyal readers. Your hero has called in sick to work and is currently feeling the euphoria that only Benadryl seems to provide, and waiting for the clock to strike 10:30, so he can hopefully set an appointment with his new doctor. Oh, and no heavy equipment will be operated by said hero for a while.

5- I had my hands in the river

2007-01-21T22:29:00.000-06:00

There's a lot to tell, stories and all, from this weekend's trip. Wait, there is too much. Let me sum up.

1) Hand Grenade.
2) Touchdown Jeebus.
3) French Market.
4) Spooky history tour.
5) Where should we eat?
6) Who dat?
7) Brennan's.
8) Weird Scenes inside the airport bar.
9) Home.

I'll fill in the blanks later. A kind of Paint-By-Numbers scheme.

4- Feelin' nearly faded as my jeans...

2007-01-19T08:50:00.000-06:00

I've been a busy young man lately. Apologies for not writing about it at any particular point, but like I said, I've been busy.

And I've got a lot of catching up to do.

I do have big news- #1, I'm heading out of town. Presently, I am waiting for the Assassin and her brother to come pick me up. We're heading to the Big Easy for the weekend. Why? Because I nixed the idea of going to NYC in January, and she nixed my counter-offer of Mexico. #2- I finally did something about my broken camera, so there's going to be a rejuvenation of Shoshanna's blog, including new adventures with her hermaphroditic brother Duncan*.

Ok, so the news isn't really groundbreaking or anything, but it is something, ok?

Anyways, my ride is overdue, so I'm going to make some phone calls and pace for a bit. There's more of a story about that, but it'll have to wait for another day, maybe even Sunday, when I return.

*Duncan was a birthday present from none other than Sass. Sass gave him/her a boys name, even though s/he definitely has udders. Methinks that is hilarious, and I like it as a joke. I just hope I remembered his/her name right!

3- A Horse is a Hoarse of course of coarse

2007-01-09T23:42:00.000-06:00

I've been running my pub quiz for almost two and half years. Somehow, that seems amazing to me. What's more amazing? I haven't had a Tuesday night off in more than a year. I'm not really trying to complain, but I'm complaining a little.

Towards the end of November, my microphone started to act a little funky- cutting out at odd times, working even when the on/off switch was clearly off, things like that. Eventually, which is to say in a week or so, the poor thing just gave up. I took it apart to find that it had literally, fallen apart. Wires were not connecting to give amplification to my voice, and I was sad.

About a week later, they found some weird headset thing that had two earphones and a mic, but it didn't work worth a damn. Instead of speaking into the mic, you were supposed to speak into one of the earphones. It didn't work very well, and honestly, I had to put my mouth right on the damn thing, which meant I could taste yummy, yummy foam or just shout out my questions.

I chose to shout.

It was fine for a while, but only while crowds were small, with the holidays going on and all that jazz. Now things are picking up, and crowds are back, and I'm spending my Wednesdays nursing my voice back to health, a process that lately has been taking days.

This is cutting into my karaoke time. Although it has been suggested that I start doing Tom Waits songs. In my experience, they're pretty hard to come by in karaoke bars.

Right now the solution is Sugar-Free Halls and Lemon tea. And, because I'm tired and it seems like a good idea, even though I hate to do it, I added a shot or so of single malt sketch. The Assassin (that's the girlfriend's new codename, FYI) likes to baby me with cough drops and lemon tea with rum when I stay over after pub quiz.

Me, I just like it when she babys me.

Anyways, I know I have some readers who are frequent singers, even if only in karaoke bars, and I'm hoping that someone or two or three of you were like me, and spent a lot of your primary and secondary schools in some form of chorus classes, and that you might have a suggestion or remember what they always taught us back then, because I clearly haven't found the right mix.

After all, in high school, we were all about vodka and beer.

Suggestions? Please e-mail or comment. Thanks in advance.

Oh, and I promise to catch up on the 365 thing, too.

2- Jeans at work.

2007-01-03T08:19:00.000-06:00

I've worked in offices for most of my working life- going back to the sunny days of July, 1989. I got my first job as a kind of a fluke of nepotism- my dad was a teacher at the soulless company that stole my youth, and they were short one day, so he suggested they call me. They did, in fact, call me, and before you could say W-2, I was on the schedule. That job was interesting- we weren't prohibited from wearing jeans, but it was usually reserved for Fridays, when we were closed, and the weekend.

I was there for a few years before I took an opportunity at a friend's company, a very relaxed place. I wore jeans everyday. Of course, I didn't last long there. I made my one and only dip in the company ink and paid for it. I quit and went back to my previous job, now under new management. I still couldn't wear jeans during the week, but my career took off. Next thing I knew, I was traveling the country as a systems administrator/tech trainer/database specialist. Job offers came in from all corners of the U.S., and I settled on moving back to Chicago.

Suddenly, I was the boss of a small team of workers, and I made the executive decision that it was perfectly acceptable to wear jeans. I even, once or twice, wore sandals to work. Hey, I was the boss. A big part of my job was heading to New York for weeks or weekends, depending on what I could swing. It didn't hurt that I had a friend who was constantly suggesting that I do beta testing, so I got a lot of free trips to New York City. Eventually, I got a job there.

I figured my wardrobe would have to change, but it didn't. I can remember days when I wore concert t-shirts to my first corporate job. Hey, I was 25, and life was good- t-shirts to work, jeans underneath, and a nicely paying job in the hotbed of life that is Midtown Manhattan.

After I quit and ran away from that company and got back to Chicago where I could get a handle on my life, I didn't work in an office for a while. Then I did, and in that office, jeans were a very strict taboo. Even on casual Fridays, which was the only day I wasn't expected to wear a tie.

Anyways, today is the first time I've worn jeans to a job in years- call it about 8, and I have to tell you, I feel pretty good.

1- All is quiet.

2007-01-01T23:23:00.000-06:00

I have, regrettably, made some New Year's resolutions. I don't usually, but this year, I feel the need to make a couple changes. For one thing, I've been neglecting my blog way too much lately. So, I'm going to make it a resolution to blog at least 365 times this year, hence the number in the title. I'm certain I'll change it around soon, but that's what I'm doing for now.

And because I'm doing a few things this year that actually require me to save money, I'm going to work on being more financially responsible. After all, I need to buy a new bike, and that's going to run me some cash, and I'm heading to a wedding in Japan, which will cost me quite a chunk of change. Needless to say, I should really get a hold on those things.

That's all for now. More in the morning.

How to date a Chicago Bears fan, Part III- Impress her.

2006-12-29T15:13:00.000-06:00

Not with your knowledge of Bears history, or NFL stats, or anything like that.

That's boring. And not terribly impressive.

This is:
Last week I received an e-mail from the MS Society telling me that the highest fundraiser through midnight, December 27th would receive two tickets to this Sunday's Bears-Packers game.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I was that top fundraiser.

So, Sunday night, before we hit up the two New Year's parties we're supposed to go to, we're going to Soldier Field for her first ever professional football game.

That, friends and neighbors, is how you score a lot of points.

Movin' on up.

2006-12-28T13:14:00.000-06:00

Got my first paycheck from the new job today. I promptly walked to my nearest bank and deposited it.

I feel all grown up again.

I'll feel more grown up when my direct deposit kicks in.
And when my 401(k) kicks in.
And when my insurance kicks in.

More later.

Rough day.

2006-12-15T19:20:00.000-06:00

It wasn't that I had a long, hard, day on the job, but time sure as hell wasn't on my side.

I stayed at A's last night, and she doesn't believe in having a clock in her bedroom. This is usually fine for me, as I don't really care when I wake up in the morning. Nowadays, however, I have to care. Well, I have to care, at the very least, Monday through Friday.

So, at about 1:30 this morning, my phone started making noise, so I jumped (quite literally) out of bed and grabbed my phone, where the alarm was. I checked the time, saw that it was 1:24 in the morning, got mad at the person who sent me a message, and went back to bed. This process, minus the message, repeated itself at about 4. I, friends and neighbors, did not sleep well.

When I finally did wake up and it was actually the appropriate time to do so, I had to hurry. I actually took a cab to work this morning, which cost me a whole $20. Mind you, the ride itself wasn't $20, but the value of it was. What a nice guy- I hope I ride in his cab again. So, I got to work, and had a training session right away in the morning, followed by some other work, lunch, then about half an hour of busy work before we all left for our company party. It was a big fancy party, where pretty much the entirety of my company was squeezed into one ballroom at the Sheraton. There were speeches, awards, some roof-raising applause, the general bravado of a successful company's employees congregating all in one place.

Afterwards, I was talking to another one of the new hires. She found our CEO's accent distracting- how he said out and again and against, to name a few key words. Me, I already knew not only where he was from, but that we lived in the same town in Ontario. "I lived there when I was a kid, and I have several friends from Canada, so I didn't have any trouble." Tough luck for her. Personally, I haven't hung out with any of my Canadian friends for a couple weeks, so I guess I was secretly craving to hear it again.

I didn't stay long at the party- the fact of the matter is I was very tired, and I wasn't in the mood to hang out with a bunch of folks I had only known for -count 'em- four days. I walked out of the hotel and over to State Street, hoping to find a cab or that traffic wasn't too busy or something like that. I wasn't thinking straight. My ankle hurts for some reason, and the 2 1/4 Sam Adams and 2/3 Budweiser I drank weren't helping me. I stopped, bought a pack of gum and a lottery ticket. Now, I figure is as good a time as any for me to win, after all.

Eventually, I headed down to the Chicago Theatre, where I caught the train home. I sat down, realized I had forgotten my book, and looked out the window. That's when I heard two teenagers talking. I call it talking, but that may be giving them too much credit. One sounded like a combination between Ted "Theodore" Logan and Jeff Spicoli, the other, well, must have been Dumber.

The first thing that got me wondering about the IQ of the future of America was the discussion about what downtown parking structures they wanted to "longboard" down. It was followed by a story about someplace in Milwaukee. A few stops later, one said "I want to name my kid Sedgwick." I rolled my eyes so far I thought they were going to fall out of my head.

Next up, one started reciting an old comedy routine, probably one of my favorites. Of course, he got it completely wrong, even getting the title character's name wrong, then got the premise wrong, then got the final line wrong.

Again with the rolling of the eyes.

Just when I thought they couldn't say anything else to make me want to injure them based solely on their stupidity, they went there. They started misquoting the greatest movie ever set in Chicago, The Blues Brothers.

"1405 Sheffield."
"1405 Sheffield, isn't that Wrigley Field?"

For the record, Wrigley Field's address, as is properly quoted in the movie, is 1060 W Addison. 1405 N Sheffield would like in the North Branch of the Chicago River, somewhere around Goose Island.

Had it not been for my superb luck finally showing through at that particular point, and their stop finally coming up and them finally exiting, I might have had to hurt, or at least yell, at them.

I almost didn't have to do either, as then they finally departed the train, they exited out of different doors, and then started wrestling on the platform, nearly knocking a woman onto the tracks.

I fear for the future. I didn't used to.

Scenes from a Mexican Restaurant

2006-12-10T11:22:00.000-06:00

Friday night, A and I were hoping to meet up with my sister, who is shipping out to San Diego this week for whatever the next phase in her training is. I have to admit a small bit of envy, as she's going to be in warmer climes much sooner than her big brother, who will have to wait until mid-January to be somewhere where it isn't shitty cold. Not that I mind the cold, I'm just looking forward to taking a real vacation.

Because of the hostage situation downtown, the trains weren't running, so she couldn't come down from Great Lakes, but A and I went to dinner anyways, and my favorite local restaurant, with the best margaritas I've had in the city of Chicago. This trip marked the first time we have ordered margaritas. We sat down, looked over the menu, and she said "pitcher of margaritas?" I, naturally, answered in the positive, then a moment of silent tension fell across the table, as both of us made inquisitive faces at each other and said, almost at the same time:

"Frozen or on the rocks?"

I swear, that somewhere in the distance, I heard the whistled theme to The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly. I swear a tumbleweed rolled through the restaurant and out the door. I swear, a couple at another table looked our direction, froze in panic, then upended their table and hid behind it. Because I always wear black, I must be the bad guy, so I drew first:

"On the rocks, of course."

Three of those five words defined what is, be definition, a fledgling relationship. A smile broke across her face, and a sigh of relief came right after. The waiter nervously approached the table and asked for our drink orders. "A pitcher of margaritas on the rocks please."

It might not be much of a hurtle to overcome, folks, but keep in mind, we are two very different people. We had a similar moment yesterday afternoon, as we were rushing out to my friend's 40th birthday party. I asked if I should pick up fries or onion rings with lunch. "Onion rings- I hate their fries."

Well now, ain't we a pair?

That's a lot of candles.

2006-12-08T14:58:00.000-06:00

A sent me one of those birthday calculation things, where you can determine handy things like when you will turn 1,000,000,000 seconds old and shit like that. I turned a billion seconds old last June, and as of right now, I am 1,046,967,615 seconds old.

And I don't feel a second over 1,000,100,000.

The Iraq Study Group Report

2006-12-08T12:07:00.000-06:00

I just finished it. If you want to read it like a murder mystery, guess what?

The W did it.

There's some good ideas in there, there's some really bad ideas in there. One of which was to increase the number of embedded US Military Advisors in the new Iraqi Military. We tried that strategy once before... anyone else remember Viet Nam?

It is worth reading, friends and neighbors. I feel more informed, but still rather disillusioned in my government. Oh, and angry that things have progressed as far as they have. I wonder if W has finished reading the report yet. Maybe he needs to see it in pop-up format before he'll give it a shot, though. Who knows?

My baby buys me things...

2006-12-08T10:02:00.000-06:00

Last week I was over at A's house after hanging out with friends most of the night. She presented me with a bar of soap.

Ordinarily, I would think she was trying to make a crack about my personal hygiene, you know, telling me I stink. I asked her. She just really likes the soap from that particular store and thought I would like the scent, which, as a matter of fact, I do. I flipped it over, only to find the tag glaring back at me where it was written, in large, friendly letters:

Demon in the Dark Soap
Peel the wax, lather & wait for your dark side to appear.

I liked it. It makes bathing sound so sexy. After that, there's the UPC code, then the weight and price information. This particular bar of soap weighs .450 pounds, at $33.79 a pound, making what I held in my hand, a bar of soap worth $15.21 before taxes.

In all my life, the most expensive thing I had ever used in any form of self-grooming was an electric razor, which probably cost about the same, pound-for-pound, as the soap. I have since started using the $15 bar of soap, and I'm impressed. Not so impressed that I'm going to become a regular patron of these stores, but I'm not complaining- I smell pretty damn nice, as a matter of fact.

Last night we had plans to spend time together, and I was thinking of heading out, so I text messaged her to see if she was off work. She was at Border's doing a little shopping. I asked her if she could pick me up a copy of The Iraq Study Group Report, as I am a curious American with gobs of opinions who loves to be informed. I started reading it this morning, as she was in the shower, and her brother and I were watching the Daily Show and the Colbert Report. I'm only a few pages in, but something caught my eye and made me wonder about the integrity of what I was reading:

Authorized Edition? What the fuck? There's another edition somewhere, perhaps one with more truth to it? Perhaps one that isn't quite as objective? Or is this just all a ploy to sell more books, much like George Lucas' releasing 18 different versions of the Star Wars Trilogy, because he knows idiots like me will buy it, just so I can, if the mood strikes me, see the deleted scene from A New Hope where they go back and digitally add Jabba the Hutt?

Sadly, only time will tell. Me, I'm going to get back to reading. More on all this later.

How to date a Chicago Bears fan part II: Us vs. Them

2006-12-04T11:01:00.000-06:00

My phone rang at about 11 yesterday morning. "You were supposed to call me so we could go watch the game together." I knew this call was coming, even though I had, the night before, said that I didn't really want to watch the game in her presence. I had a funny feeling it might lead to either a) our first fight or b) the end of our romantic relationship or worse, c) someone hurting someone else physically. "You're coming over right? I'll order some food for lunch."

She's pretty convincing.

I took a shower, got dressed, and headed over to her condo. I was talking to her doorman, trying to get him to call her to let me in, when she emerged from the parking garage, wearing her Brian Urlacher jersey and carrying the Sunday paper, which has quickly become a routine for us on Sundays, crosswords, ads, and football. What she doesn't know is that's exactly how I like my Sundays- lazy days spent doing the crossword and watching football. Occasionally, she'll make one-eyed sandwiches, better known, apparently, as eggy in the basket. She also doesn't know that I have immense respect for Brian Urlacher. Just because I am a Vikings fan doesn't mean that I can't respect other players. Especially the really good ones.

When we got to her place, the Vikings were already punting, and I had a bad feeling about the whole game. It wasn't for a few minutes before we found out my boys had forced her boys to fumble on the opening kickoff. Of course, in true Vikings fashion, they couldn't convert a turnover into any points. We watched for a while, sometimes sitting next to each other, often times at opposite ends of the couch. The pizza delivery guy arrived, and she answered the door. I followed, as I was paying for said pizza. The delivery guy saw her jersey, then my classic John Randle jersey. "Looks like you guys are going to have an interesting afternoon."

I'm sure everyone knows that the Bears wound up winning the game. This was of no surprise to really anyone, even with a quarterback that couldn't have beaten a pee-wee team on downers. There was no gloating, no crying, no argument, and nobody got physically hurt. At least, not in her condo, I'm sure someone, somewhere did get hurt, but it wasn't her, and it wasn't me.

We did, however, avoid any and all post-game discussion or highlight reels. There was nothing for either of us to see there.

Bullshit!

2006-12-01T14:09:00.000-06:00

I've been watching this show, albeit via Netflix, for some time now, and I got a big kick out of an episode that I saw last night. The episode is called College.

I, of course, am not the greatest student. My mind does not like to be confined to what someone else wants to teach me. That's probably why I have so much fun writing my pub quiz, because I have the freedom to decide, week by week, what I want to read and write about. Not a bad gig, eh?

In one part of the episode, they pull in an "expert" on college, a person that I'm sure Wendy will recognize as quickly as I did:You see, he's my old company's nemesis, and Wendy's old boss.

Enough about him though. I want to thank everyone who's written and called me with congratulations on my new job. I'm still looking very much forward to it, and I'm sure you'll hear more about it as soon as I'm there.

Trust me.

My Time on the Dole, A Retrospective

2006-11-28T12:37:00.000-06:00

Well, we're almost to the point for a retrospective.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Friends and Neighbors, I accepted a full-time position this morning. I should be very, very happy with this new job, and I'm looking forward to getting back to work after, lo these many days.

I've been thinking about how many days have passed, so I've worked out some silly numbers for you:

All in all, once I start working, I will have been unemployed for 178 days.

That's a lot of days, especially for an ancy guy like me.

I am looking forward to my new job. From everything I've seen, I stand to be a very happy and productive member of the team there. Now, however, I am faced with a small problem- I have to either a) lose the spare tire I've managed to grow so I can fit into my old work clothes of b) buy new work clothes.

Something tells me I'm going on a crash diet for a week or so. Time to start exercising again, too.

Check out the all-new, employed Dave at a theatre near you, December 11th!

Happy Turkey Day

2006-11-23T08:21:00.000-06:00

I'm typing without my glasses on. This is probably going to lead to either a headache, or a plethora of typos. Perhaps both. Perhaps the whiskey I drank last night in order to demonstrate the value of releasing the serpent to a college professor at the bar already has the headache covered. Perhaps I need a pill or two. Perhaps three.

Today is Thanksgiving Day, one of my all-time favorite holidays. I'll bet you didn't know this, but it is, technically, a religious holiday. Today you are supposed to give thanks to god for whatever it is you are thankful for. Myself, I try to give thanks to the people who are important to me, whether they can hear me or not, and whether or not I do so in a public forum, like a blog.

I am not, at this time, going to make a list and check it twice. I'm too tired, too hungover, and I still don't have my glasses on. Besides, if you're one of those people, you probably already know it. At the very least, I hope you know it.

Yesterday, I had a very long interview with a company I'm very excited about working for, and I really hope I get the job. Not for the money or the glamour, but for the job itself, one where I think I'll be really happy. Whilst in that interview, I took a skills test on a laptop computer (I still cannot get used to touchpads- someone please teach me how to use one!) and I did very well- I scored 87% in customer service, 85% on my grammar test, and 95% on both spelling and vocabulary. I felt very good about that, except for the fact that I still can't spell embarrass without a spell checker, nor can I distinguish between when to use its vs. it's.

Sometimes I wonder if I ever really paid attention during any of my English classes.

Anyways, I need a shower. I'm hopefully picking up my sister from the train from Great Lakes Naval Base in an hour and change, and then we're driving out to the farm for lunch with one set of grandparents, dinner with the other, and a long drive back to Chicago. After all that, I plan on being out and about with friends and hopefully a certain someone, although she's one of the unlucky people who is required to be at work tomorrow, so I'm not holding my breath. We'll see what happens, I guess.

So, if you're giving thanks today, remember that I am, too. If you're giving thanks to some higher power, try not to mention my name- I'm sure you'll just get in trouble for it. Seriously, have a happy holiday, everyone.

Armistice Day

2006-11-17T09:41:00.000-06:00

Last Saturday was Armistice Day, or remembrance Day, or Veterans Day, depending on which side of the border you hail from, or what you choose to remember. I like to remember it as Armistice Day, and it was the first time in 3 years that I wasn't in Canada to see everyone wearing poppies. Honestly I missed that part the most.

I had spent the night at A's, and woke up early, as I usually do, and sat on her couch watching Bravo reruns of Six Feet Under. A works in a bank, and it was her first Saturday off in months, so she wanted to sleep in, so I was quiet. I was, but my cell phone rang around 11, and it wasn't particularly quiet. I answered as quickly a possible to minimize the amount of disturbance. It was my step-sister calling, she was going to come down from Great Lakes to the city. I offered to buy her the birthday lunch I didn't get to buy her the week before, on her actual birthday. She accepted and asked me what the plan was.

That's when I realized I had made lunch plans for A and I, and she wasn't even awake yet. "Let me check with her, and I'll get back to you in 15 minutes or so," I said. I felt like an idiot, but if worse came to worse, I could always go it alone. I gently woke A up and asked her if she wanted to go, and she did, but she wanted to take our time. I called my sister back and told her we'd meet her at 1, which gave us tons of time to get ready.

We picked up my sister and her boyfriend a little after 1, and headed over to grab some lunch and had some very nice conversation, which somehow or another got steered over to perfumes. My sister wanted a new perfume, and A knew just where to go. I braced for the inevitable- I was going shopping. I rolled my eyes. I secretly dreaded what was coming next. We headed to Water Tower Place and went straight to the fragrance department of Macy's, which, as you might suspect, gave me a headache almost instantly. Too much, too soon. Fortunately, we found what she wanted right away, and then headed out into the mall.

There was talk of going t-shirt shopping- apparently the Navy doesn't provide very comfortable t-shirts. A offered to go with my sister, and leave us guys to fend for ourselves. I took a quick survey and found a saving grace- the high-end games shop, with all the cool toys and fun board games you don't usually get to see. I mean, South Park Chess, people. How could I resist?

We managed to occupy ourselves there for a bit, then I got tired, so I found a comfy chair and had a seat, made a couple phone calls, and then A and my sister arrived. They had fun together, and I got to meet A's sister in the process. It was quite the full day. What's up next in my adventures with a sister in the Navy? Thanksgiving, which, a few months ago, I had pictured completely differently than now.

I can resist anything but temptation.

2006-11-10T09:01:00.000-06:00

Yesterday, I felt the need to get stuff done, so I started my laundry around 10:30, so that my employed neighbors might shower with hot water before going to their jobs. After that was done, I quickly checked the time: 2:30. I had an hour to complete at least 3 of 4 tasks:

Going to Jewel for groceries.
Going to Trader Joe's for more groceries.
Going to CVS to get cat litter
Going to the Chicago Music Exchange for a guitar stand.

Why did I only have an hour to do these things? Because I wanted to be back in time to watch Celebrity Jeopardy! at 3:30. I love watching that show normally, because I yell out the answers at the television. I love it even more when I get to call Regis Philbin names for getting answers wrong.

So, I got out my bike and got out in the 60+ degree weather, and I rode around like an idiot, power-shopping, and made it back home with 11 minutes to spare. In case you're wondering, yes, I am the king of grocery shopping. In and out with as little damage as possible, that's my way, and it works.

The bad part was realizing just how much my knees were screaming in pain, so I sat down with a glass of water and a couple ice packs. That's when my intercom buzzed. Our intercom tends to work intermittently, so we usually have to go downstairs to find out who's there, and with campaigning going on lately, there's been a lot of unanswered buzzes around here. Jess took a look and said "nobody I know, but there's a guy with a bag out there." I chose not to get up and answer, as I was just starting to enjoy the ice packs.

The buzzer rang again, with a little more insistence, so I gave up and got up to see who it was. It was my buddy S, the owner of the Globe. He's been contracting Jess to do some accountancy work lately, and was dropping off some stuff for her. As we ascended the stairs, he said "this is a fairly urgent meeting." I thought he was talking about the accountancy stuff. Nope.

I let them talk and went back to the couch and sat down with my water and ice packs. S came over and sat next to me. "So, what are you doing tonight?" I got the feeling I was going to be asked to host something at the bar, or emcee something, or have to do some other kind of unpaid work that I do for the bar to justify their contributing prizes to my pub quiz. I don't mind doing it, because I almost always drink for free at those kinds of functions, and that's a hard thing to say no to.

"Nothing- I was just planning on sitting around here, honestly." I was secretly hoping to get out of the house, really, it was too nice a day to spend indoors, and I spent most of it indoors doing laundry.

"No you're not. You're coming with me." He had an extra ticket for a Glenmorangie tasting. I had the fortune to be called in as his plus one. They were even going to feed us, so it was a win-win-win situation. I asked if I should dress up, was told it was casual, and said I would wear pants- something I know all of you know I hate to do. We planned on meeting up at 6 at the bar, so I had some time to kill, so I watched Jeopardy! and made fun of the celebrities and relaxed and started to marinate my steak and cleaned the catbox and all those other silly things I had promised myself I would do.

We got to the restaurant around 6:30, which was when we were told the event started. We were proudly the first there and last to leave, and we enjoyed 7 different scotches, or sketches, depending on whether or not you're in on the joke. One of them was so peaty it almost hurt. One of them is older than my current lady-friend, A. It was really, really smooth, and very tasty. My personal favorite Glenmorangie is the Port Wood Cask, because the wood adds a very subtle sweet flavor to an already very good sketch. S's is the Madeira, which is high on my list, but just can't topple Port Wood.

They prepared the food using sketch, too. Each course came with its own flavored sketch. The scallops were sauteed with Ardbeg, the peatiest sketch I have ever had. I'm not a fan of seafood, but I didn't want to be rude or miss out on the Ardbeg either. The beet salad was served with the Port Wood (which I had seconds on). The ravioletti was served with the Sherry Wood, probably my third favorite. Our entree, veal medallions, was served with the Burgundy Wood, a very high favorite of mine, as it, like the Port Wood, adds a very subtle sweetness to the sketch. The Burgundy does moreso than the Port, but is still an amazing flavor. I recommend it wholeheartedly. Before they brought out the dessert tray one of the guests, a chocolatier, handed out samples of his product and we all enjoyed some of the 1977 Glenmorangie. I'm still thinking about that scotch. It was just so enjoyable. So full of flavor.

Anyways, they brought out the dessert tray, and almost no one had any. The chocolate apparently did the trick for everyone. The final sketch? Ardbeg 10 year. Like I said earlier, it is so peaty it hurts. The Glenmorangie Rep told us that it has been crowned the peatiest sketch in the world, and I believe it. After that, I helped finish off the '77, and away we went, back to the Globe, for a couple drinks before it was time for bed.

Fortunately for me, we had lots of water and bread along with dinner, otherwise, I am certain I would have a hangover that would probably kill me. How fortunate, that after 4 hours of scotch drinking, I have absolutely no hangover. I guess I'll never learn.

Tuesday, Tuesday.

2006-11-08T17:31:00.000-06:00

Thankfully, elections are behind us, and Ricky Santorum is gone, like all those horrible attack ads. I can't say I'm disappointed on either account.

Yesterday, as I headed over to the Globe to drop off some prizes, I saw the sandwich board sitting out, and as I approached, I started to read it, and thought to myself 'hm, there's something written below' and then 'oh, that's just my name' and then 'oh, J must have done today's sign.' I have this thing I do. When I think a woman is pretty, I like to tell them so. That is why my motto of "I do whatever the pretty girls tell me to do" gets me into so much trouble. Especially if the pretty girl knows I think they're pretty, and they know my motto.

Anyways, not too long ago, I spent the afternoon with J (pictured here), and she and I had a blast making fun of each other. She's from Texas, and has that southern drawl I just turns me to putty. I told her she was pretty, and she came back with "you're prettier!"

And I melted.

So, I found her after I talked with the owners and dropped off my prizes. We had a moment. It was funny. All night last night, during pub quiz, folks who noticed kept telling me I was pretty. It was hilarious, and I'm still giggling about it today. It's the little things in life, right, that make it worth living, right?

Right.

So, after my moment with the lovely J, I headed to my polling place to exercise my civic duty and voice my opinion about the leadership in my city, county, state and country. When I got in, there was some kind of bruhaha over a voter's registration, he, as well as many other people, had problems with their registration. I, friends and neighbors, had none.

The very nice election judge handed me my ballot, and I instantly noticed something that made me extremely happy. The ballot, instead of the usual hanging-chad style ballot that I had never encountered until I moved to Chicago, had been replaced by the "fill in the arrow style." Back when I first voted, as a senior in high school, that was the form I was handed.

I was a senior in high school and voted for the first time in 1991. It is ever so comforting that Chicago has finally caught up to the early 90's version of ballot I had in Minnesota. I had to hold my tongue when the judge tried to explain it to me. I did, however, interrupt her and tell her that I had, in fact, encountered this very simple way to vote before, and that I was more than familiar with it. I did, after all, vote in Minnesota for 6 years before I moved away and discovered how bassackwards the Chicago system was. I would also like to mention that on the fill in the arrow version, I am undefeated. Watch out America.

Happy Election Day.

2006-11-07T10:17:00.000-06:00

If you're in America, and you're reading this, welcome. Please don't forget to go out to your local polling place and cast your vote- every voice counts. Please also remember to read up on the candidates before you vote- nothing is more important. Still more important is the message in this video, which my buddy Pat posted the other day:

If you're like me, you tend to hate the system from time to time. Honestly, I believe that choosing to become a politician signals that you are unfit for the job at any level. I quote Dwight D. Eisenhower:

Any man who wants to be president is either an egomaniac or crazy.

I cannot honestly imagine any truer words ever having been spoken. Get out- rock the vote- but make sure you know how you're going to rock it.

How to date a Chicago Bears fan.

2006-11-06T12:59:00.000-06:00

The truth is, friends and neighbors, that I am dating a wonderful young lady. She's smart, pretty, and is very fun to be with. We've got our similarities, and we've got some differences, but perhaps the biggest rift between us is our choice in football teams. She is a Chicago Bears fan. I am a Minnesota Vikings fan. We do not see even close to eye-to-eye on this, as should be expected from bitter rival teams. Honestly, I think it is more important to her than our differences in religions.

Yesterday, we did something we haven't done yet(get your mind out of the gutters, people). We sat down to watch a football game together. Some friends of hers were gathering for brunch at a place called McGee's, an overcrowded, over priced and very loud bar by DePaul. The atmosphere was lively, especially when the Bears scored, when the TV audio would be turned off and the Bears fight song would be played, a confetti bomb would go off, and for some reason, after each score and fight song, they would play Thunderstruck by AC/DC. I used to like that song. I used to play it before meets in high school to get the team pumped up.

Now, I can't stand it at all.

Not because they played it when the Bears scored, but because they didn't seem to realize that there's a whole catalog of music to be played, not just the same damn song over and over and over. Anyways, enough about the bar. I'm sure you all want to hear about the woman, right?

She's a big fan of the Bears. She knows the mechanics of football inside and out. She can quote stats and gets tense when the team isn't performing well. She spent quite a bit of time looking exasperated yesterday, during their loss. At one point she looked me dead in the face and said "I'm going to look at you- you don't make me nauseous, but they certainly do." She even had to have a glass of seltzer water to calm her stomach. It was rather strange, yet rewarding to watch, as I got to see a side of her that I wasn't likely to see otherwise.

I was patient and supportive, although not supportive enough to actually root for my team's arch-rival. I let her bury her face in my body when she just couldn't watch it anymore, and I held her hand when she hoped and prayed for a miracle. I even, once or twice, argued when calls went against her team, but I was doing so because I am objective.

Anyone want to buy a tract of land in Florida off me? I'll give you a great price.

This much I know.

2006-10-30T08:04:00.000-06:00

Friday, at the Globe's Halloween party, which I told you about in the previous post, was a very interesting experience for me. Not in the idea that I was working a special event in a bar, that's old to me by now, having been a dj and currently hosting pub quiz. No, the interesting and new bits came from the people who showed up and participated in the scavenger hunt.

It all started when you walked in the bar. You had the option of participating by paying $10 and receiving a tankard with a map and a free drink ticket inside. The map was also available behind the bar, drawn on the mirror. The first clue on the map led you first to a glowing Bud Light sign behind the bar, which then sent you to the Golden Tee game, where the next clue was taped to the side of a pumpkin, which I had helped carve that afternoon:

Marooned he was for many a year
You see him wandering, drinking a beer.
Seek the Flying Kiltsman, he has the clue
To put you on the path that is true.

The Flying Kiltsman, that was me. I was him. So folks came to look for me, and I sent them along to a clue beneath the Arsenal Football Club's flag in the front bar, which then led them to the back, where we made them do a shot and "walk the plank." Somehow or another, I wound up in charge of making people walk the plank, so I had a double-duty. Honestly, the second of my duties was slightly more fun. After walking the plank, blindfolded and spun around after drinking a sugary shot, they were told to find a howling bartender, who served them yet another shot, and then they were entered into a drawing for $100.

What's missing from this description is D, a regular at the bar, who is more than qualified to be the bar's pirate expert. She came in full costume, carrying a flogger. Some folks, who were having troubles walking the plank, received a little "encouragement" from D. Pictures, which were taken almost entirely by her camera, will be available soon. We were, I will say, quite a pair.

Thing two missing from the description is the Globe's own version of grog. It was pineapple juice with orange juice, Sprite, and dark rum. It was sweet and tasty and gave me a massive, 'why-am-I-still-alive' hangover the next morning. Oh, and the name of the pirate ship was The Crimson Beaver, which was also the name of the shot of the night for people to do. The shot was Watermelon Pucker with Sprite, well vodka, and something else I'm chosing to never drink again. Sad that I can't remember precisely was it is.

Needless to say, I'm more than happy the whole thing is over, especially my hangover, which was enough to make me swear off of many different kinds of booze indefinitely. Did I have fun, though? Oh, hell yeah!

How my boring life turns suddenly interesting.

2006-10-27T16:34:00.000-05:00

Last night, I didn't want to eat anything I had in the house, which wasn't much in the first place, so I made the executive decision to go to the Globe for a sandwich and a couple beers, maybe even some fine conversation with a friend or two.

I wandered in, and sat down at the bar, and ordered a Belhaven, as I've had too much Guinness lately. I chatted with the bartenders, and my pub quiz waitress, and ordered one of my favorite sandwiches, the buffalo chicken sandwich. It is very mmm-mmm good. As I sat there, the owner of the bar came downstairs and found me. "Don't leave. Whatever you do, do not leave until I talk to you," he said with a look of urgency in his eye. I told him not to worry, I'll stick around for a bit. It took a few minutes, but he made his way back to me just as I was ordering another drink. "I've been meaning to talk to you about the scavenger hunt."

They're throwing a big halloween bash tonight, which includes a scavenger hunt. We had spoken about it just before my birthday, but there wasn't a clear message as to what exactly my role was in the whole thing. Last night I found I was to write the scavenger hunt. One of the added bonuses, is I am one of the stops on the scavenger hunt. If you happen to be around, and if you happen to stop in, you'll probably see me dressed similarly to this picture.

So, today, I put the finishing touches on the scavenger hunt, carved a pumpkin for the first time in probably 15 years, and am looking very forward to snacking on roasted pumpkin seeds later tonight.

silly, because life is too much right now.

2006-10-22T11:12:00.000-05:00

HowManyOfMe.com

There are:
2
people with my name
in the U.S.A.

How many have your name?

Rattle, rattle, thunder, clatter, boom-boom-boom...

2006-10-15T23:35:00.000-05:00

Don't worry. Call someone. I'm sure you'll be able to figure out who.

Life, friends and neighbors, is very interesting. The skeleton in my closet is rattling yet again. This time, with motives unknown. This could be dangerous. On the positive side, the woman I like likes me, too, so I've got that going for me.

Sleep should be here soon. I hope so, as I am sick as a dog. I also don't seem to sleep much.

Opinions really are like assholes.

2006-10-14T15:19:00.000-05:00

Joey posted this pic the other day, from SANCTUARY blog

The image got stuck in my head, honestly, and I kept trying to figure out what it reminded me of. Finally, after some mindless wall-staring contests, I realized what it was:
I'm not sure why, but that's what it reminds me of.

To get back to the title, and the point, of this whole post, my step-sister is now an E-2 in the Navy, soon to be an E-3. She looks very good in a uniform, and she's the happiest I've ever seen her. At the beginning of graduation, before they sent the 8 divisions of seaman recruits in, they showed us, the family and friends, a video of what their boot camp was like. My step-mother and I were both a little surprised to learn that they not only gave my step-sister a gun, but that she won a ribbon as a marksman.

After that, they showed us a video about the war we're not fighting in Iraq- the one we supposedly won, what, 2, 3 years ago. It basically glossed over the issues, and made it seem like no one ever gets hurt in combat. I felt almost like I was watching a cartoon.

It should go without saying that I got a little red under the collar. I also got to thinking, which eventually formed into an idea once I had met up with my friends for drinks and general mayhem later on. I was discussing the video with my friend J, the anarchist who says he'll vote for me if I run for president in 2008. We got into it a little about the causes of the war, where the blame lies, etc., etc.

You want to know what I blame the Iraq war on? Well, if you're still reading, I'll tell you then. I blame it on NASCAR.

I'm not shitting you. NASCAR lulls people into thinking that they're watching a sport, a sport where people drive in a circle for hundreds of times in a row. NASCAR consumes vast amounts of fuel in qualifiers, practices, and actual races, and wouldn't you know it, they bitch about the price of gas, too.

Anyways, the conspiracy theory I'm trying to put forth is that NASCAR hypnotizes people into watching a sport that is entirely dependent on gasoline and oil, which we're supposedly not fighting a war (that we're not still fighting) about, and most folks I know who enjoy NASCAR are from, drumroll please, red states. Red states, of course, enabled a jackass to be elected POTUS not once, but twice. That jackass then got together with a bunch of cronies and a boatload of bullshit and got us into a 21st century version of Viet Nam.

The dominoes, my friends have fallen.

I could, of course, be talking out of my ass, that's very much so a possibility. I'm just going to stick with my non-subliminal hockey and my blue state and my cold beer and that is that.

I am the very model

2006-10-12T18:16:00.000-05:00

As I'm sure you're all aware, I celebrated my birthday last week. In case I haven't already thanked everyone, thanks again. One phone call is still reeling in my head, actually. The phone call my father placed to me. Once he had wished me a happy b-day, we got to chatting, as my cab rushed me away from Rogers Park, down to my neighborhood, after seeing The Science of Sleep (which I can't really recommend, unless you speak Spanish and French and enjoy Bjork videos to an extreme), he asked a strange question my father usually doesn't ask me.

"What are you doing next Friday?"

I knew I had friends coming to town that night and that I was going to the Wolves home opener on that Saturday, but the potential of having my dad visit me in Chicago got me all atwitter. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. What's really happening is my step-sister, unbeknownst to myself, my father, or my stepmother, had enrolled in the US Navy. They found out the day they came around to tell her where to report, which is, of course, Great Lakes Military Academy, right here in the cozy Chicagoland Area. She is graduating tomorrow, and my stepmother and I are attending graduation, as well as a reception for honored recruits.

I have to admit that I'm more than a little proud of her.

I'm also worried. There's this war that isn't going on in the Middle East, and some nut over in North Korea who's making his case at being the next target of this misled administration. I've had family in the Navy, even a step-nephew of mine graduated a couple years ago, and I have friends who have also served, most notably Bosco, who tells me that the safest place to be in the modern navy is aboard an aircraft carrier. He would know, too, as he served on the Nimitz. I'm going to try to hint that it might be a good idea to request that, if she can.

In other news, it was my grandfather's 74th birthday on Friday, the primary reason for my trip out to the ancestral homes near Chadwick, IL. He's looking good, he's lost a lot of weight, but he's a fighter, and he's so amazingly upbeat is makes me jealous. Oh, and he had no idea I was coming out there, so the surprise was priceless.

A bonus for my trip out there was that my cousin's homecoming football game was that night. He's a senior this year, and he's the last of the male grandchildren for our generation, so it'll be a while before I have someone I'm related to to root for in a game, so I was more than happy to go out and support the team's captain. It was fun, and the game included a 93 yard kickoff return by the home team, who won 30-24.

Again, I have to admit that I'm a little more than proud of him.

Last week, I applied for a job that I thought I would really like. I applied through a website, so it required me to upload my resume, which I made public, in case someone else might be interested in a guy like me. That was Tuesday. On my birthday I took 4 calls and received 2 e-mails. On Thursday, still more calls and e-mails, and this week, I got a lead that I really liked, so this morning, I woke up early, showered, shaved, put on a suit and headed down for an interview. I'm not going to comment on the interview yet, as I don't want to jinx myself (I've been unemployed so long, I'm getting superstitious). Afterwards, I went over to my old Tower to do some shopping before they close permanently- they're going out of business, so time is short!

Lastly, my beloved Chicago Wolves are starting up their season tomorrow night. I'm excited to have hockey back. Very, very, very, very excited to have hockey back. I just can't hide it. I'm about to lose control, and I think I like it.

BlogACatMas

2006-10-06T06:04:00.000-05:00

I'm heading out to the farm for my grandfather's birthday, but decided that I couldn't miss BlogACatMas:
Speaking of odd photos that came up during my search for an appropriate picture of the all-too-photogenic Mia, here's a picture of a confused Scotsman, a crazy karaoke jockey, a pretty Texan and a roasted pig:

And just because it happened, and I laughed endlessly at it, here's a picture of a bottle of mustard that didn't make it:

Is it in the stars?

2006-10-05T09:54:00.000-05:00

For a while, here at Logan's Dave, I posted my horoscope for the previous day when I wrote about it, just to see what came true and what didn't. It was a silly experiment, but still kinda fun. So, for the next year or so, let's keep the following two horoscopes in mind, both from the Chicago Sun-Times:

F OCT. 4 IS YOUR BIRTHDAY: Actress Susan Sarandon (1946) shares your birthday today. You have excellent taste, and you appreciate beautiful things. You like harmony and are pleasant to others. Nevertheless, you're forceful and direct! (You rule with a velvet glove.) You're not afraid to take a risk. People are attracted to your humor and your modern ideas. Work hard this year for rewards in 2007.

IF OCT. 4 IS YOUR BIRTHDAY: This year, you use your talent to produce remarkable accomplishments. Who you love loves you this month. November features double the workload. You handle it and are paid well. Living conditions get an upgrade in April. Travel in June -- anywhere you've never been is fantastically lucky. Cancer and Leo people let you know you are so loved. Lucky numbers are 6, 34, 20, 45 and 11.

Thanks to everyone who sent cards, called, sent e-cards, bought me drinks, sang karaoke with me, or watched a strange movie with me for my birthday.

Why I posted so angrily this morning.

2006-10-04T08:32:00.000-05:00

I hear that it is appropriate to never go to bed angry, that this is a good guideline to a happy marriage, blah, blah, blah.

Well, friends and neighbors, I went to bed angry last night (this morning), and I woke up just as angry.

Mind you, I'm not angry that I'm having a birthday, although I did falter in my stoic "it doesn't matter that I'm having a birthday" stance yesterday. I'm angry because the bar that I run a certain event in suddenly dropped a bunch of changes on me last night. I'm sure you all remember how much I like surprises, so I'll avoid that speech. Allow me to finally get down to the point: I am no longer to be treated like an employee, I am to receive a $30 tab on Tuesday nights, but pay full price on any other day. I am no longer allowed to take tables from the front room to the back room when quiz night gets busy, although I am allowed to take chairs, provided there's an ample amount at the bar and at least three chairs around every table in the front.

Ok. I don't really care about what kind of discount I get- frankly, that's not why I run my show there, but it is nice to receive a bonus which reflects what I do for that bar. That, while it makes it harder for me to go there on non-quiz nights, and not exactly cheap to do so on the nights I am there, is not the big deal.

The big deal is that I'm not supposed to bring tables or chairs back to run quiz. The reason I've heard so far, is that they're not getting a lot of business in the front when it's busy in back. So, as happened last night, we're going to turn away business because they won't have a place to sit (out of 17 teams, two spent the entire time standing)in order to accommodate business that might come in.

Does anyone else smell the bullshit? I sure do.

Frankly, I figure an average person spends on my night is between $15-20. I'm being rather conservative with that guess, too. Over the last three weeks, we've had 189 people, an average of 63 a night. So I figure they ring in about a grand a night thanks to my show, and that's some serious business that I'm certain any other bar in my neighborhood would love to have.

Now, if that doesn't tell you how pissed off I am, I'm not sure what will.

Anyways, I'm not trying to spend my birthday brooding and stewing in my own anger. I'd like to have some fun and forget about life's troubles, so I think I will. Although I will admit to feeling like running back into my room and crawling back into bed after checking my myspace profile and seeing that my age has already been increased.

D'oh.

So happy to be...

2006-10-04T02:16:00.000-05:00

well, I don't mind being another year old. Ok, maybe I do, but I'm really pissed off right now, and that's not how you're supposed to be at 2:14 in the morning on your birhtday.

I'll get into it later, but this is really just a placeholder for my anger. More in the morning.

Wasting time, again.

2006-10-02T13:51:00.000-05:00

I'm bored to tears today, writing pub quiz, so I thought I'd break up the boredom with a couple celebrity look-alike thingys.

Man, I'm really REALLY bored.

Long night.

2006-09-26T02:31:00.000-05:00

A friend of mine came into the bar I didn't mean to stay late in tonight. She came in late. I won't deny that I have the hots for her.

I won't deny that she has be best excuse for missing my birthday ever heard:

"I'm going to be in Armenia building houses for Habitat for Humanity." Sorry, but for all those girls I've promised all the things in the world for, the moon, the stars, whatever, that is the greatest line I've heard on a denial of time spent together.

Mind you, 45 minutes later I was sober as a sober person would've been, and rubbing her back, making sure she stayed alive as she puked. After that, I was standing in the women's room making sure she was alright. She told me I shouldn't be in the women's room. I told her that I had already had sex in there, and that it was ok.

There wasn't any sex. For some reason, it seems important to point that out.

There won't be, either for at least a while, as she'll be out of the country. Again, I don't have a problem with this, but my bed is beckoning me.

Last Day plus 1,085

2006-09-23T08:59:00.000-05:00

It has been 1,085 days since I turned 30. Had I actually been keeping track, I'm sure I would have done something special on LD +1,000*, but really, I've stopped worrying about age.

Or have I?

During a recent conversation, I was discussing my friendship with former roommate and friend S, who I have known for 10 years, nearly 11, which impressed me, because he is one of the first friends I made in my post-college, corporate-ladder-climbing days. Given, I have friends I've known longer, my roommate and best friend Jess and I have known each other for 13 years. Jen and I have known each other for almost 14 years, most of which were spent dating or in relationships or sleeping together or pissing each other off in creative ways. Pat and I met in the Spring of 1992, so we're staring down the barrel of 15 years. My high school bunch and I have known each other for as many as 21 years, which means our friendship can now legally buy beer.

The point is that time is fleeting, and boy is it ever fleeting away from me. The Summer of Dave is now the Fall of Dave, just 99 days later. My birthday is in a short 11 days, and my first Wolves game is coming up 10 days after that. All of these things become just a little bit scarier when you quantify them, right? So, for now and at least for the next 11 days, I'm not going to. Well, I'm going to try not to. We'll see how that goes. Peronally, I'm putting my money on not very well, but that's just me, right? Right?

*For those of you scoring at home, Last Day +1,000 was 30 June, 2006- I didn't make a blog entry that day, but I'm pretty sure I went bowling that night.

Today on Logan's Dave

2006-09-22T12:33:00.000-05:00

Ever since Joey posted a link to the Stephen Colbert On Notice Generator, I've wanted to use it somehow. Today, I'm using it to organize my thoughts into a post.

I finally got my first unemployment check. Whoo-hoo! I'm slightly richer! I'm also expecting to finally get a decision from the company I applied and interviewed with so long ago- there's been some emergency situations that have delayed the whole process, but those delays should be taken care of, and I should finally know early next week.

For those of you who check out Shoshanna's blog, and wondering why I haven't updated it in a month or more, well, that's because she was in hiding. I had left her in a bag that I don't frequently use, and forgotten her there. I know. I'm a bad person. I've also managed to have my digital camera go on the fritz, but I'll try to squeeze in a Shoshanna photo op day next week.

One of my many addictions over the past 3 months of shiftlessly laying about is Star Wars Battlefront II on my PS2. I've been busy doing other things lately, like looking for a job, but let me say that this is one hell of a good time. Especially when I get to play as a Jedi. I'm so happy it scares me. Maybe not as much as Yoda rapping, but it definitely is a little frightening how giddy I can get when I try to pretend I'm still a kid.
The biggest problem, of course, with being laid off is that the days really blend together- so much so that I'm extremely bored. I spend a lot of time scrolling through jobs I feel underqualified for, then I try to watch Jeopardy! and make it though an entire episode without calling someone an idiot (thus far, with no success). I write pub quiz rounds, frequently ones that go nowhere but in the trash, which makes me feel like I'm trying to start an unstartable novel or something. Perhaps that's what I should try next- novel writing. Hm. Something tells me I'd lose interest.

Friends and neighbors, I believe I told y'all about a long-standing bet I had with my former roommate and very close friend, S. The bet was made back in 1999, and the contest was that whoever got engaged first would take the other out on a Schlitz tour of Chicago, finding all the bars we could that served Schlitz beer, and going into each one for a beer apiece. Well, after years and years of trying, my boy popped the big question this week, and she said yes. I personally congratulated them last night over a couple beers, as they are still on vacation. I'm very proud of my friend, and very excited to be a part of the wedding party, too. Now I need to start saving up for a trip to Japan- and I'm told I am required to wear a kilt. Should be interesting.

Last week, as I was out and about, I picked up a copy of the Civ IV Expansion Pack. Why? Because I've been playing that game since college, and I seriously need diversion. Apparently, a new hobby would be good, too, which is why I bought myself another new toy, a bass amp. I'll be driving my roommate and neighbors crazy very, very soon.

It is high time I got back to doing laundry- something which I don't do nearly as often anymore. I enjoy it, because it is so much simpler. One load for boxers, one for black t-shirts and shorts, one for white t-shirts. Gotta love that kind of simplicity in a boring chore like laundry.

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm gaining weight like crazy. I sold my road bike to a friend, not that I was riding it anyways, but now I'm definitely not able to do any of the training I've been doing, and keeping myself nice and thin. My solution showed up in the mail yesterday- an invite to join my local Y for free! Hey, I might be unemployed, but I need to get out of the house, too!

Public Service Announcements

2006-09-21T14:19:00.000-05:00

In case you haven't received an invite to my birthday party, which could be because the invite went out to somewhere near 80 people, here's the linky to the evite, and here's what the invite looks like:
In case you havent' received an invite to my fantasy hockey league, which is mostly because I haven't bothered to send one out yet, log on to your Yahoo! account and sign up for Dickie Dunn Wrote This, league #7369, password is brooks. The draft is next Thursday, and space is limited.

Life's rich pageant, part II

2006-09-20T16:03:00.000-05:00

The other, very, very odd thing that happened last night was not only did two teams tie in the final score, but also gave the same guess for the tiebreaker question. Because this had never happened before, I had a representative from each team come up and play rock-scissors-paper to determine the winner.

It was funny, and a great way to end a crazy, crazy night of trivia.

Life's rich pageant.

2006-09-20T10:42:00.000-05:00

This morning, my friends and neighbors, I am EXHAUSTED. I had quite the interesting night last night, featuring quite a bit of strangeness at pub quiz. First off, I bought a new electric pencil sharpener last week while I was out correcting the Illinois Department of Employment Services error on my address- they managed to turn the zeroes I wrote out into ones. Fortunately, my mailman is smart enough to recognize my name and where I live.

Someone please remind me to take him out for a couple beers this weekend. Anyways, back to the story:

I'm sitting there, sharpening pencils before last night's quiz, and noticing just how crappy my $10 pencil sharpener sharpens pencils, bitching endlessly about it, actually, when there's a flash, and half the room goes dark. I had actually blown a fuse using the goddamn thing. It was, in a way, funny, but at the same time, a little crazy. It reminded me of the first night of pub quiz, when the entire grid went down, and even my house lost power. After some confusion, the owner and I got the power back on, leading to the joke "how many Scotsmen does it take to reset a fuse?"

Apparently, the answer is two.

So, people started filing in, and I made due with the number of actually sharp pencils I had. Then more people came. And more, and more, and more. Jen and I made the decision to run quiz from behind the bar so a team could have a table. Then still more people came in. We started pulling tables in from the front room, and I felt a familiar pain. Jen was concerned and asked me where it hurt. After relating the pain to her, she said, "that's not good- that's a rotator cuff problem." Crap. Just what I need, yet another joint going bad. Of course, if we look back to three years ago, I had the same problem.

Sounds like I'm overdue to see my sports medicine doctor, no?

All told, we wound up with 72 people at pub quiz last night. At one point, I was talking to the owner and requested that if a fire inspector showed up, to make sure they didn't come to the back room. It was hectic, crazy, and somehow or another, we managed to still finish just a couple minutes after ten. Afterwards, we had some well-deserved drinks. Many of them. The staff and I did quite a few shots before I called it a night, and lugged all my crap home and iced my shoulder.

So today, I'm tired. I'm in pain. I'm wondering if those folks will be there again. I'm almost afraid they will be, but I'm retiring myself from moving tables again. Standing behind the bar, pulling my own pints all night, that, on the other hand, I'm more than happy to do again.

Just a quick waste of time before I wake up

2006-09-20T10:34:00.000-05:00

I found this test on Voyages of the HMS Swiftsure, who had recently reminded my bwife that she needed to make time for me in her life, too. I thought the test was hilarious, so I had to give it a whirl.

Clark Gable

You scored 30% Tough, 19% Roguish, 19% Friendly, and 33% Charming!

You're a helluva guy, a real split personality and a bit of an enigma. On the one hand, you're a man's man, tough talking and ready for anything. But on the other hand, you soften your rough and tumble core with a disarmingly smooth exterior, and you make the ladies swoon. You're equally admired by both men and women alike, drinking other men under the table all the while charming the socks off half a dozen lovelies. You're a commanding presence, and you know how to get what - and who - you want when you want it. You're drawn to women who, like you, are savvy enough to deal with the world on their own terms. You work well with spitfires. Leading ladies include Joan Crawford, Myrna Loy, and Jean Harlow. No damsels in distress for you.

Find out what kind of classic dame you'd make by taking the
Classic Dames Test.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 99% on Tough
You scored higher than 99% on Roguish
You scored higher than 99% on Friendly
You scored higher than 99% on Charming

Link: The Classic Leading Man Test written by gidgetgoes on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

This is for Chicagoland viewers only....

2006-09-16T03:17:00.000-05:00

I just saw the Victory Auto Wreckers commercial.

In Spanish.

It was awesome.

Anniversaries

2006-09-13T11:56:00.000-05:00

Saturday was the 2nd anniversary of my 3rd knee surgery. I passed the time drinking at the Sox game with a very good friend of mine that I hadn't seen in a while. I then proceeded to, after going out with him to a bar in the south loop with another friend, go out for karaoke. All told, I was out and about and drinking and cavorting from 5:15 until 3am. Needless to say, I was not in good shape on Sunday, but I managed. Poorly. I went out to watch football, and gave up and went home after about an hour or so. I managed to choke down one Guinness, but that was all I could manage. This so-called rockstar lifestyle I've been pushing myself into is getting old.

Monday was the 5th anniversary of 9/11. I don't want to talk about it. I will say that I avoided all news sources on Monday because of it.

Tomorrow is Pub Quiz's 2nd anniversary, so we had a special anniversary quiz last night, where I doubled all the points. It was fun. It was exciting. We had about 50 people. For those of you who are interested, I've finally started posting the questions again. Clicky if you dare.

In three weeks, Wendy and I will be celebrating our birthday, as will another friend of ours. We're also having birthday parties on the same night, so if you're planning on sending one personality to each, please make sure you RSVP for each. A post for my birthday party is forthcoming. Promise.

I could make you scared

2006-09-11T00:33:00.000-05:00

if you want me to
So, lately, I've been hanging around with people and imbibing vast amounts of, well, everything. I'm having fun, but this fun is taking a toll on my body. I feel run down. I feel old. Of course, my looming birthday might have something to do with that. The combination of being unemployed (did you know that if you sleep late enough, you'll never have a hangover), having gobs of cash and having temporarily retired from cycling doesn't exactly promote healthy living.
I'm not prepared, but if I have to
So, I'm turning over a new leaf or two, and making time for exercise in my daily schedule of boredom, my routine of ruts, my summer of Dave. Of course, there's a bit more to everything. I'm a touch confused with the awkwardness of late-night taxi conversations I've been having lately, but I don't want to get too far into that. I will say this much: one of my all-time favorite parts of a romantic relationship is the first kiss. There's just something about it that makes me so happy- something about the moment that is just too good. Call me a romantic, but that's what I like.
Said I can make you scared
Last week I had a similar moment. It was exciting. It was daring. It was 2:30 in the morning. It was in a cab. Two people had the same idea at the same time.

I love it when that happens.
It's kinda what I do
What's going to come out of this? Who is this mysterious person? Why the teasers? My friends, I don't have any of these answers. I'm just sitting back, wondering the same thing. That's the great part about being unemployed. You have lots and lots of spare time to think.

It may be directly related to boozing, too.

Someone should look into that.

FINALLY... I'm on the dole

2006-09-08T13:30:00.000-05:00

My friend, and former colleague back at the horrible place I used to work, with all those phone calls and that, who laid me off, you remember, right? Where I used to answer this phone all day, and frequently all night, long? Well, he and I got to talking the other day about finally signing up for unemployment, so we scheduled that we would go this morning. He picked me up at my house at 8:30, we got some coffee for him, and we were on our way to living off of unemployment insurance.

After filling out lots of forms- in pencil I might add, registering with the state skills match program, watching a video on how to complete the unemployment application (which strangely, comes as step 5, the second to last step), and finally meeting with a representative of the state, we decided it was high time for breakfast. After all, the whole process took about 90 minutes, which was less time than I expected, but neither of us had time for breakfast. We discussed options, and decided on a place, but we'd take a peek at the Globe to see if they were open.

They weren't actually open, but the door was. I walked in and the owner told me to go ahead and have a seat. He wondered why I was there so early in the day, and we explained the whole reasoning of how funny it would be to have pints of Guinness with breakfast after leaving the Unemployment Office. So far, just about everyone has agreed that that was the best move possible.

Personally, I had a nice little buzz going before we decided to leave.

And I'm a very happy man.

I'm a crappy blogger.

2006-09-02T09:13:00.000-05:00

In my defense, I just don't feel like sharing my daily routine, as it is, sadly, rather boring. I wake up. I come to the computer. I chat, I read news headlines, I check my fantasy sports teams, I play video games. I eat lunch, I pet my cat. I pine after girls. Sometimes I read blogs. Sometimes I'll say something interesting. Sometimes I'll read something interesting. I'll worry a little about money, as we're reaching the end of the severance package cashola. Well, it is running out, but not gone, but I should get a job anyways. I'm going slowly insane with the routine I'm stuck in.

The other day, to break up the monotony of my routine, a friend sent me a job application to be a hockey writer for a local ezine. I seriously considered it, but the job description called for someone who wanted to write about the Blackhawks more than the Wolves. A Blackhawks column written by me would probably be 250 words following this pattern:

They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck.

In reality, I'd just be happy to be going to the games with a press pass. That would be pretty cool. Although I'm pretty sure the job doesn't pay, but we all have to start somewhere.

Speaking of hockey, I've started up a Yahoo! fantasy hockey league for this year. Interested parties should contact me via the e-mail. You know the digits, right? The name of this year's league? Dickie Dunn Wrote This. Call it an homage.

So, that, friends and neighbors, is my life in a nutshell. I'm still waiting to hear from the company I recently interviewed with, but my inside information tells me that the staff has yet to discuss the interviews they did. That's a whole other thing, though, and I don't feel like worrying about it. Not only have I been a bad blogger, but I've been shunning electronic communication the past couple days. I'm being a luddite, in a manner of speaking. So, I'm calling this an open apology to those of you who have been wondering why the hell I haven't gotten back to you, or blogged, or done anything remotely resembling communication.

Oh, and big thanks to John, for posting his pictures from the camping trip.

Impromptu camping trip.

2006-08-27T15:10:00.000-05:00

It really was slightly planned, but on Thursday night I found myself unrolling my tent in my dining room, only to find out that, sure enough, it reeked of mildew. So, off I went to the Sports Authority, because they had a similar tent for about $35 which would fit the bill for this weekend quite nicely. But this isn't where the story starts. Let's set the way-back machine for Tuesday night, after pub quiz. Jen and Bosco were talking about this weekend's camping trip when Jen made the face she always makes at me when she wants me to do something, and asked me to come along. Then Bosco joined in. Promises of fun and craziness and mass consumption of alcohol were made. I honestly started feeling like they were my kids asking for a lollipop at the grocery store or something.

I agreed to think about it, but did not agree to go along.

It was sometime on Thursday when I thought to myself that saying what the fuck brings freedom. Freedom brings opportunity, opportunity brings freedom. Not only should I go camping, but I must go. The Summer of Dave, after all, is coming to a close, and I'm not going to have many opportunities to just blow off everything for a weekend and do something silly like this. That's when I came across the tent problem. It was a problem that wasn't going to go away, unless I had a time machine and an anti-mildew solution. That's when I got the right phone call. The one telling me about the camping sale at Sports Authority. Jess and I hopped into her car, and away we went.

We stopped by the liquor store first. Camping requires excessive drinking, otherwise you'll never fall asleep on the hard ground. A quick purchase of a 30-pack of LaCrosse Lager and I had that base covered. Now, to get a tent. I had printed out a page with the exact tent I wanted off of their website, but, as sure as the sun rises, they didn't have any in stock. Fortunately for me (fortune does indeed favor the foolish) they had a similar tent on sale. I got that and a new lantern. It started to sink in- I was really going camping. I was excited.

The trip was arranged by members of MeetInChicago, I was invited because, well, even though I'm not a member, I know enough of the people that it was kosher. A ride was arranged for me, and I eagerly awaited the phone call Friday morning that was to indicate it was time to go. Again, I was excited, so I packed early and had everything waiting downstairs. Once we started out, we got to talking about the weather. We knew that there was a strong possibility of storms, but they were supposed to be scattered and wouldn't really affect our camping plans. Once we got about halfway there, we got hit with one of the wildest storms I've ever seen. The highway was suddenly very crowded, as many people pulled over to wait it out. Being a truckload of gritty, nutty men, we pressed forward. After all, there was a visit to FIBs in our future.

We pressed on. The rain stopped. We got to FIBs. The rain started again. We ate. The rain stopped. We got to the campsite, and it was raining. AGAIN. We chose our spots. The rain stopped. We set up our tents. The rain started again. We got the beer on ice, and the rain stopped and started all night long.

We got to drinking around the campfire, which is always one of my favorite things in the world. Many, many drinks were had. Finally, sometime after 2 am, I decided to call it a night. As nature was calling, and as I had set up my tent right by Sugar Creek, I wandered, in the dark, to the edge, so that I might relieve myself. This, friends and neighbors, is when I walked off the edge of the world. You see, the creek was a little low, so there was a ledge where the bank usually was, and then a lot of mud, and then there was the creek. I walked right off what would have been the bank and found myself in pain, and rather stuck.

Once the initial panic was subdued, I had to figure out how to scale the 4 foot ledge, in the dark, in the mud, and without anything to hold on to. It was about this time that I heard my fellow camper and site mate do exactly what I had done. He, however, didn't land on his feet. He landed ass-down in the mud. I finally climbed up and got my new lantern, which I had left on the picnic table near our tents. I found it, found him, and hoisted him up. After all that work, it was seriously time for bed, so off to bed I went.

Saturday it rained off and on, but we still found time for a drunken game of Hello Kitty Kickball amongst many other sports-related activities which were infused with beer. We barbecued, we danced, we drank. Sadly, that is all I can tell you, as I am restricted by the "what happens at the campfire stays at the campfire" code. I will say that a rousing game of I Never was played, and a very racy game of Truth or Dare followed.

I woke up at the ass-crack of dawn this morning, moderately hung over, and confused as to how I managed to strip completely naked without help. I knew my fellow campers were going to stay asleep for some time, as most of them were still partying strong when I decided to sneak off to my tent and go to bed. I wandered around, read a little, and took a nap, as it was far, far too early. Once I got my head back together, I realized that I should try to find evidence of my Friday Night Fall and photodocument it for you:
Anyways, it is high time that I took a shower, as I haven't in days, and I am still covered in a lot of mud still from Friday night. All my clothes are muddy as hell and need to be washed, and I have to dry out my tarp before it suffers the same fate as my previous tent.

A Midsummer Night's Dress Story

2006-08-25T10:54:00.000-05:00

(Continued from this post)

After the baseball game, which I'm certain the White Sox commentators announced as "7-3 bad guys," Maria and I walked back to her apartment from the Skydome, and quickly ran into something that made me very happy. We found a guy playing bagpipes, who was more than happy to have his picture taken with myself and Shoshanna, especially after I flipped a Toonie into his case. We kept walking, well, honestly, it was more of a controlled stumble, we made it all they way there, despite the attempts of someone to sell us a sombrero:
Once inside, we both checked our e-mail. Maria wanted to change
for the evening's festivities, so she scampered off to her bedroom while I searched feverishly for news about the job I had applied for. I heard her call from her bedroom 'I'm naaaaked!'

I like to think I'm pretty quick on my feet, even after 4 or 5 Skydome Blues. I laughed, and asked "are you knitting?" A few minutes later, my bwife emerged, but was having a bit of trouble with the zipper on her dress, so she enlisted my help.

After a few minutes struggling with the argumentative zipper, it was finally closed. She looked quite pretty, but something seemed off:
We realized that we had, in our drunkenness, actually rotated the dress about 90 degrees the wrong way, and had to move it around. This began round two of zipper struggles, some partial nudity, and finally, the decision was made that the zipper was stronger than both of us and our will to get the damn dress together properly. Maria begrudgingly changed into a different dress, and we were finally on our way. Mind you, we did not give up without a serious fight, I'm talking about 20 minutes of trying to get a broken zipper to zip, which is just plain dumb, in retrospect. Drunken determination, however, was the prevailing wind at the time.

Damn prevailing wind.

I should state, for the official record, that even though there was nudity, the only lewd behavior was actually on the part of squishy cows:
There's still more from the weekend I spent in Toronto, still more to come, that is, but it'll have to wait, as I'm taking up a last minute invite to go camping this weekend.

Sorry for the interruption in service...

2006-08-22T15:14:00.000-05:00

I've been pretty busy lately. Friday, I spent the day ridding my system of Claritin- per directions from my favorite pharmacist, so I stayed in and sneezed a lot. Saturday I went out and got Alavert, again per directions from my favorite pharmacist, and since then, my sleep has returned to normal, and I've lost all of the bad symptoms I previously had. As she put it "you're basically a speed fiend right now. I'd switch to Alavert."

Anyways.

Today was my big interview, and it was just that, A BIG INTERVIEW. So, I'm done talking about myself, done wearing pants for a while, well, unless I get the job, which I hope I do- it looks like an amazing place to work.

So, enough for now. I just wanted to make sure y'all knew I hadn't fallen off the face of the planet. Or gotten lost in the corn.

How blogging is changing my life today.

2006-08-17T08:32:00.000-05:00

I know what some of you are thinking right now, so let me say no right away.

This is about allergies and Claritin.

I was sitting yesterday, feeling my heart race and trying to fall asleep when something occurred to me: I've been blogging for 3 years, and I'll bet I've written something about funky dreams every late July/early August, which is when I start taking, survey says?

Bing! CLARITIN!

So, I did a little research about myself through my blog. Last year, this entry was about strange dreams, and it was then supported by this later entry and this earlier entry. Same symptoms. Go to 2004, and there's a few posts about strange dreams and shooting awake at odd hours. Again, right around the time I start taking my allergy meds. 2003? Yeah, more of the same thing.

So, the not very hard to make decision is to stop taking Claritin as soon as possible. I'm just a little pissed off that I bought two boxes of the shit two days ago, and I can't find the receipt to return the unused portions. I'm going to get in touch with my friend the pharmacist and see what she thinks of Ceerock's advice, and get me some new meds!

Send warm thoughts.

2006-08-16T13:40:00.000-05:00

On Tuesday I have an interview. If you have any to spare, please send some warm feelings towards the Chicagoland area.

Gracias!

No wonder!

2006-08-16T09:10:00.000-05:00

I've been trying to figure out why I've been literally forcing myself to get what I consider to be a decent night's sleep, the 6 hours I so dearly enjoy. Lately, I've been waking up at odd hours, having some seriously funky dreams and having problems getting to sleep. For instance, last night, I was at pub quiz, had a few Summits, got home feeling still completely sober, poured myself a drink, watched a movie, and still wasn't tired. I went to bed anyways, as it was 2:45 in the morning.

This morning, I woke up at 7, and forced myself to fall back asleep. It worked for a while, but I was basically waking up every 20 minutes or so until I finally gave it up about 15 minutes ago.

That's when I got smart, and googled side effects for Claritin, and that led me to this page, listing all the nasty side effects people have had. I was relieved to read this entry:

When taken as needed (a day or two here or there), no side effects. When I took it as suggested (daily, 10mg tab), after about a week I started to experience side effects: Awoke in the middle of the night after some bad dreams, dizzy, disoriented, strange feeling in my head, and mild nauseu. Had to get up and sit on the john, turn all the lights on, and walk around for an hour to 'sober' myself up. I was genuinely afraid to go back to bed (in the dark). I figured it was some virus I was coming down with. Shortly thereafter I began to have stomach pains off and on, after eating (figured it was stress?). Then edginess and generally disinterested in any thing. I was nervous, slightly depressed, and distant from everyone in the house. I also suffered from chills (leading me to think I still had some virus. My girlfriend and house mate sent me an e-mail, asking if I wanted to move out, and why was I so negative and joyless(?) It was a wakeup call. It was as if everything was normal...

I say that I'm relieved, mostly because I now know that this is probably what is happening to me. So, if anyone else out there has any allergy med advice, preferably an alternative, I'm all ears right now.

Crazy little thing called life.

2006-08-14T13:43:00.000-05:00

Being unemployed has some advantages. I really enjoy the spare time that I haven't been using to do anything practical. Or even routine. Like blogging. This morning and this afternoon, I had two phone interviews for the same company. I'm so sick of talking about myself it isn't even remotely funny. But I'll try to muddle through the long-overdue recant of my wonderful weekend in sunny Toronto. You already know about that Thursday and the hell I went through trying to get there.

So, let's start with Friday. On Friday, I woke up early, as I usually do. I eased into my day. Wendy and I took a walk through High Park and stopped by the zoo, where I snapped a couple nice pictures of the animals. Nothing, friends, looks funnier than a goat in a box. We walked and talked our way through the park, which is a very nice place, actually. It made me a little homesick, though, for trees and farms and the like.

Friday night, we were slated to see Spamalot with my bwife, so we met up with Maria at a bar where she was playing trivia, and kicking ass. I soon found out that she regularly kicks ass at it, too, but occasionally needed help on some American questions. It was fortunate for her that two Americans showed up at that time, too. After a couple drinks and rounds of trivia, Joey showed up and it was time for us to go over for the show. The show itself is hilarious. I got the feeling that the people sitting behind me were season ticket holders or something, because they knew nothing about the movie, and less about Python. I spent a lot of time trying to ignore them and enjoy the play.

After the play, we went for a late dinner. A very late dinner at a very fancy place. It used to be a mansion or something, and has since been converted into a restaurant. It was very nice, and the food was delicious, but eating a steak at 11:30 at night is not something I would recommend to anyone. I wound up staying up late, just to give myself a chance to digest. It was during that time that I discovered something rather peculiar about Canadian cable TV- after about 1am or so, almost every other channel is showing soft-core porn. I was watching a show on Discovery Channel when it went to commercial, so I flipped up a channel to find a couple playing with the woman's nipples.

I was surprised to see that. That's not to say that I didn't watch, of course, but I decided I should move on, so I flipped back down a channel, back to Discovery. They were still on commercial break, so I flipped down another channel. This one was an educational program about how to find erogenous zones on your partner, including full-fledged nudity. Again surprised, by this, I learned a couple new tricks and switched back to the Discovery channel before too long.

Saturday was a full day, involving a trip to the mall and a jewelry store. I haven't spent much time in jewelry stores, so it was fascinating to me. I found watches that cost more than my last car, which scared me, especially since I have a track record of losing and breaking watches. That night we met up with a bunch of folks at a bar called the Green Room. It was a nice place, good beer, but no air conditioning. It wasn't unbearably hot, but I'm not a fan of heat, so I was a little uncomfortable. We decided at some point that we should find a place to do some karaoke, so off we went, in separate cabs, so Joey could pick up his accordion at the office. Little did I know that that side trip would result in Shoshanna's appearance in my life.

We arrived at the Gladstone a few minutes later and got slips filled out and got our spot in the queue to sing. Literally minutes after we put in our songs, a woman sang the song Wendy put in. Ten minutes or so later, I heard the KJ introduce someone to sing my signature song, and he butchered it. I kept my slip in, however. I was going to show this guy how to do Poison properly. Joey joined me on accordion and we brought the fucking house down. That's about when I met Hank. Hank works at the Gladstone, and he's just one hell of a guy, who does Hank Williams like a pro. I miss Hank. I owe Hank an e-mail, actually. I should really get on that.

Sunday was the big day, it was Sass' party, and my first baseball game outside of the US ever. I met up with Maria for brunch (remind me to find a way to get peameal bacon shipped to me. I love the stuff) and we walked over to the park for some Blue Jays-White Sox action. I was surprised by how friendly people were to a guy in a White Sox jersey, and surprised by how empty the stadium was. I should also mention that I was surprised by how expensive and strong the beer was. All told, both Maria and I left the stadium far drunker than we thought.

Anyways, I need a break in the action, and Maria and I are still discussing who is going to tell the dress story, but next up, I'll recap the big party.

Last Day.

2006-08-11T09:15:00.000-05:00

Today is that last day for fundraising for my MS Ride. As you all know, I work very hard on this ride, and on my pub quiz, the primary source of my fundraising dollars.

However, if you happen to have the time, and a little cash, please make a donation today to my fundraising, or to the fundraising of one of my many team members. We appreciate any and all gifts we receive, and it goes to a very, very good cause.

Thanks to those of you who have already, and will donate. I appreciate it.

You know you've really made it in the world when...

2006-08-09T15:46:00.000-05:00

you become mentioned in a Jeopardy! question.

It just happened to one LEEROY JENKINS!

Congrats.

Meet you all the way...

2006-08-09T13:48:00.000-05:00

I would like to introduce Shoshanna the Cow to everyone. Everyone, this is Shoshanna:
Expect to see a lot more of her on her blog, and, eventually, on flickr!

Waiting is the hardest part...

2006-08-08T08:47:00.000-05:00

I will get to posting all about this weekend and starting up a blog for Shoshanna the Wonderous Tucows Squishy Cow and getting her a flickr account and all that jazz sometime tomorrow, as I have an interview today and an entire pub quiz to write. First order of business is to prep for said interview (although I'm sure I'll do fine), second order of business is to write, of course.

So, with that full a plate, I'll have to skip the update with pictures that you so deeply deserve (for the record, I took 273 pictures of the weekend, lots of which were with Shoshanna in various places and with various people. You'll see them, and others, tomorrow.

Notes to myself

2006-08-06T09:34:00.000-05:00

Because last night was quite the night to be out and about in Toronto, I'm writing myself little notes which you can see, to remind me what to talk about, once I get pictures from last night up on a website:

Meeting Hank.
Meeting Shoshanna.
The Green Room.
Upstaging the other guy with Accordion Guy.
Pushing Shoshanna to her limits and beyond.

Teasers, I know, but there's so much to tell, and I don't want to be late.

Let's play a guessing game.

2006-08-04T16:05:00.000-05:00

Can you guess who has an interview on Tuesday?

If you guessed Logan's Dave, you'd be right.

I blame it all on American...

2006-08-03T23:36:00.000-05:00

Airlines.

My flight, slated to take off at 11:17 this morning, was delayed. It was delayed because the flight crew was coming in on another plane, which was somehow delayed. We finally boarded around 11:25, and got halfway to taking off when my captain was speaking, telling me about some hydraulic pump not working in some engine somewhere on the craft. He told me we were going to have to check it out.

I felt kinda like I was at my doctor's office and he wanted to check out some malfunctioning part of my knees.

We taxied back to the gate, and parked, and we were allowed the use of our cellphones and any other electronic equipment we cared to use, so I turned on my phone. It was just after noon.

This was just part of the bump in my road.

After sitting there for about 30 minutes or so, my captain was speaking again. This time, he told me that they were going to have to replace said hydraulic pump. Estimated time for repairs was between one and two hours. After a few more minutes, we were told that no other planes were available, so we weren't going to leave anytime soon. We were given the option of being able to leave the craft, but we were required to take any and all luggage with us, in case the repairs were done early, and we took off without you.

He made that point very clear- that you would be left there if you weren't on the plane.

My first thought was that I was hungry. The two McDonald's hash browns I had for breakfast definitely weren't going to last, and I never did get a chance to visit the duty free shop, because I was running late. I was running late, incidentally, because the CTA Blue line had a train stalled one stop before the airport. I learned of this, as usual, after I was already on the Blue line and stopped between stations, far from any cab that might stop for me.

I digress.

I didn't get off the plane. I sat and read my book and called Wendy to let her know that I was delayed. I didn't know when I would get in, but I would leave my cell on in case she got the message. Then, I went back to reading.

I got bored, so I did the crossword in the crappy magazine. Well, most of it. I got bored.

I went back to reading. The older couple a few rows ahead managed to book another flight, and I considered following them. I thought better about it. I figure I can probably still get something out of American for the whole fiasco. Then I realized that 93 down was fiasco, so I went back to the crossword for a few minutes.

It didn't take.

Finally, they let everyone back on the plane. Finally, we were heading for take off. Finally, I was on my way to lands north to see some of my favorite, or should I say favourite people in the world. When I finally got here, I had two things on my mind: food and bathroom. Fortunately, I found both, and Wendy, rather quickly. I handed her my book, "can you watch this for a moment?" She agreed with a quizzical look, "remember the Brooklyn Bridge."

While it was actually the Manhattan Bridge, not the Brooklyn Bridge that I was trying to refer to, Wendy knows well enough that that's code for 'I really need to pee.' There's a story there, of course, that's been visited before. We're not going back there now.

Anyways, after all those delays and traffic and everything, I finally got my hamburger served with peanut butter, and let me tell you, my friends, it was fantastic.

So the summer of Dave is on tour again, this time in lovely Toronto. When I find time to blog, I will. Promise. Oh, and I got a pimple today, which I am also blaming on American Airlines.

Thank you, and goodnight.

Don't do me like that.

2006-08-02T20:13:00.000-05:00

I have just returned, via mountain bike, from my friend Ditka's house (Ditka being a nickname he'll heartily appreciate), where I installed his air conditioner.

There's a backstory, of course: Ditka and I have been acquaintances for some time, usually winding up in the same bar or bars to watch football on Sundays throughout the season. A mutual friend introduced us, and within a few months, it was like we were old pals. Old pals, of course, who root for rival football teams.

Ditka got married a few months back, and I've met his lovely bride and she is very nice, and very much the woman I would have picked for him, if I had the daunting task of matchmaking my friends. Thankfully, I do not have that task.

So, last night, he comes walking into my pub quiz and grabs a seat. I got to talking to him, as we hadn't seen each other for a while. I asked him what brought him out to this particular pub quiz. "The wife's at the Cubs' game, and it must be about 110 in my house right now, not to mention I wanted a beer and haven't seen you in ages, so here I am."

"You don't have air in your house?"

"We've got an air conditioner, but we haven't hooked it up yet."

"Why the fuck not?"

"We got frustrated and gave up."

"That's when you're supposed to call me, buddy." He smiled. I gently reminded him that I once not only worked in construction, but I also once installed 10 units in 10 condos on one sweltering July day. If there is one task that I can firmly and without doubt say I can accomplish with relative ease, that is it. Well, that and installing automatic ice makers in refrigerators. I'm pretty damn good at that, too, and it requires a lot less sweat.

He called me tonight to call in that promised favor. After a little bit of logistics and a few adjustments, hey presto, functioning AC in his bedroom, and he had a devilish grin on his face. I knew why. I know what happens when it gets hot and you're trying to share a bed with someone. Even a King size bed might as well be a twin at that point.

He offered me a beer, and I accepted ice water. He offered to write me a check for $150, and I told him to buy me a beer or two or three sometime. He offered money again, and I told him to buy me a beer or two or three sometime. We chatted a little more, and I heard the thunderstorm getting worse, so I shook his hand and left.

I, friends and neighbors, don't like to take money from my friends for silly chores like that. Ever.

Attack of the FedEx/Kinko's Cat

2006-08-02T10:13:00.000-05:00

My bedroom seems to be under constant attacks by my cat, also known as Laundry Cat. Yesterday, I was getting ready to head to Pub Quiz when I realized I needed more answersheets, and when I went to retrieve said answersheets, well, look what I found:

This, I swear, will be the last "look what my cute cat did today" post for a while. I think I just need to get out of the house more, and not having a job and dealing with this heat wave makes me not want to do that at all. Hell, my central air will turn on, stay on for 2 hours, shut off for 20 minutes, then start right back up again. It kinda scares me, honestly. Not as much as this picture, which I took for a friend of mine who keeps offering me $200 a day to grow my hair out for a week. I made it to four days before it got to be too itchy for me to take anymore. Wouldn't you know it, I feel 3 days short of $1400. Alas.

Just a quick note...

2006-08-01T14:48:00.000-05:00

I haven't been this busy since before the MS ride, but a lot of loose ends need to be tied up. At least I've got my packing list finalized. Those ducks are in a row.

The thing that has by boxers all in a bunch today is a little e-mail I got from American Airlines. Seems they have a sense of humor- they sent me an e-mail this morning- just under 57 hours before my flight to Toronto takes off- with the following information:
Now, I could have saved about $75 bucks (that's $85 CD in Canadian beer I could have drank!), had I just waited until the last minute. Of course, I probably would have flown on a red eye at least once or twice, but I'm sure the flight would have me returning sometime on Monday, which is a Provincial Holiday of some sort up in Ontario. I don't ask, I'm just happy to have an extra night cavorting with my Canadian friends before I return.

I'll get you, too American Airlines!

Attack of the Laundry Cat

2006-07-31T14:30:00.000-05:00

I've heard of the ceiling cat, who apparently watches me masturbate:

But yesterday, after I finished a load of laundry, I suffered an attack from Laundry Cat, who decided that folded clothing should not stay folded. She attacked while I was in the other room, spreading havoc and dismay as she rolled around in my freshly washed and folded laundry. She unfolded my shorts and a few t-shirts before she was done, and let me tell you, it was a damn good thing I hadn't folded my socks yet, because she got into those as well. Crazy Laundry Cat, I'll get you one day!

Projects

2006-07-28T16:14:00.000-05:00

I'm heading out of the country on Thursday, which means that I'll actually be forced to sit down and finish a bunch of projects I've supposed to have been working on. Call it a mental list.

Here's what's on my plate:
Obtain a copy of Foreigner's Greatest Hits.
Obtain a DVD copy of Cats.
Get color cartridges for my printer.
Figure out exactly what happened to my camera while I was in Boston, and see if I can get it fixed.
Finally fill out the form to get my 401(k) from the soulless company that stole my youth. Apparently they've owed me some money for 10 years that no one was aware of.
Finally fill out the form to roll-over my 401(k) from my previous employer.

Well, that's part of it. I'm should be able to cross a couple of those off my master list by the end of the weekend.

Mr. Webster, my contribution for the day:

2006-07-27T13:20:00.000-05:00

I would like to offer a new word into the English language:

Netflixmas (n) - receiving one's full quota of Netflix movies all in one day.

This actually happened today, to my roommate, aka Jessinatrix 5000. I was on my way to grab some groceries when I checked the mailbox. I had a little chuckle and an idea as I took the good ol' grocery getter up to the store. Now, friends and neighbors, it is time for lunch!

I wasn't planning on upstaging anyone, but...

2006-07-26T16:11:00.000-05:00

I took this test and got strange results:

You Are 88% Evil

You're the most evil person you know.
The devil is even a little scared of you!

How Evil Are You?

Apologies and thanks to Bosco for finding it.

I rock

2006-07-26T09:43:00.000-05:00

I also roll, when pushed down a hill. I have taken some 617 pictures with my digital camera in the last 5 weeks or so- and I've only posted a few of them, maybe 20, so I'm putting up a photo post:
This, friends and neighbors, is what you'll see if you're having a conversation with me, and hockey comes on the tv behind your head.
This is what happens when there's a kickass bassline to the song I'm karaoking.
Three beautiful ladies that I am fortunate enough to call friends.
The view of Montrose Harbor from Bosco's balcony, which I managed to brave for a grand total of about 90 seconds.
Two of my favorite Canadian transplants at a Cubs game.

It seems as though blogger doesn't want to load anymore pictures right now, so I guess there'll have to be another installment of picture time with Logan's Dave. Until then!

Keep your Jesus off my Penis.

2006-07-24T14:14:00.000-05:00

I've been reading the Quality Control Alliance for a while now. I like to read stuff written by people who have problems with religon. Here's a post from the other day that I think merits some link love. Enjoy!

It feels kinda like a bar mitzvah...

2006-07-21T15:51:00.000-05:00

...except I'm not Jewish, and it would be about 20 years too late.

Finally, after long delays and all kinds of bureaucratic hoop-jumping, I, ladies and gentlemen, have a US Passport:

When the lady took my picture, she asked me where I was going, which I would think is a common question to ask someone who is getting passport. "Everywhere" I said, "starting with Toronto."

Just in the nick of time, good ol' Uncle Sam comes through. Thanks, buddy.

I've also just returned from seeing Clerks II (ok, I had to see it, okay?). I don't want to spoil anything, but if you go into it expecting it to be as bad as you'd expect it to be, you might come out liking parts of it. Oh, and I miss my donkey. I also have a newfound attraction to Rosario Dawson.

That's all I'm going to say.