Friday, December 26, 2008

An Awkward Christmas Week

-I can't handle this weather anymore. First it gets unbelievably cold, then it gets horribly windy, then the snow starts, then the snow freezes, then the streets and roads are full of ice. Now I have a horrible cold, my nose is running like Niagara Falls and I'm coughing up a lung, while I'm slipping around on the sidewalks like a fat kid on roller skates. Why do we even put up with this?

-My parents adopted a new dog a few months ago. My wonderful dog Barney, passed away last year. The new dog is very cute. He's a 12 pound, terrier/lapsa apsa mix named Pepper. He's very playful, loving and already obsessed with my parents. One night I was over at the house, playing with Pepper. He enjoys playing with his stuff animal Froggie. Basically the concept of the game is that you throw Froggie, Pepper chases after it, and then you have to try and wrangle Froggie away from his mouth. So we are playing the game and Pepper runs over to my parents who are lying on the couch. He drops Froggie onto the ground and sits right by it. I slowly walk towards him, like I'm going to take away Froggie. He stares at me, like he knows we're just playing a game. Out of nowhere, he lunges at me like a speeding bullet and attacks me. This dog lunged at me so fast, I had no time to dodge him. This little shit, bites me on my right leg. It was right on the top of my leg, parallel to my crocth area. So in other words, he was about a few centimeters from biting me in the family jewels. Pepper, if you're reading this, you better look over your shoulder the next time you're walking down a dark alley. Word!

-Speaking of dogs, I saw the movie "Marley and Me" recently... The movie was so-so, a little too slow for my liking. I'll admit it was a bit of a tear jerker. I did not cry, but I came close a few times. I think the last time I cried during a movie was when I was six and saw the "Karate Kid" Jennifer Anniston is amazingly hot, but boy she a boring actress. Okay, she was decent in "Office Space" because of brilliant writing, but otherwise she has pretty much been brutal in everything else. If there is one movie to see right now, it's "Slumdog Millionaire." I wasn't looking forward to seeing it, but all I can say is wow! That's one heck of a film.

-This past Saturday night I was going to my GF's friend birthday party at some trendy club. So when we gave our names to the pompous doorman, he asked us which party are we here for. The girl's name was Liz Hurley. To brighten the doorman's mood, I decided to make a little funny and say "But not the actress unfortunately." After I made the joke, the doorman looked at me with a blank expression and replied, "Did it take you all day to come up with that one?" I'm not saying it was a hilarious joke, where he should of been rolling on the ground laughing, but the A-Hole, didn't have to make me a feel like stupid douche. I mean where are the effort points? That's all I'm saying.

-I had this temp job the other day where I worked as a greeter for a real estate company. They where showing a condo and needed me there in case two different people came to look at the place the same time. Because of the weather and the holiday week, nobody unfortunately came to look at the condo. And I brought nothing to read or do for the whole day. They had a few random books on the shelf and so I started reading the Regis Philbin Biography written in 1995. And that's what I did for seven full hours. Mr. Obama, for the love of God, please help this economy!

I went to a Sister Hazel concert recently. I think they're a great underrated band. But why do other people have to ruin the concert for me? Who started the whole pump your arm in the air and almost hit the person in the face behind you? I could see if we were at a Metallica concert, but this Sister Hazel. People don't need to be waving their arms around like a psychotic Orangutan. And this older couple, is standing right next to me. During one of my favorite ballads "Champagne High," this gray hair, 50 year-old guy decides to yell out the whole song word for word in my ear. It totally hampered my ability to hear the real song. People, next time you go to a concert, enough with the spastic arm movements and the karaoke. There's a reason why there on that stage singing that song and your in the audience watching them next to me.

I'm Out!

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Come On Ride, the CTA Train... Woo! Woo!

Chicago is a wonderful city and has a lot to offer. It's affordable, great food, fun night life, corrupt Governors and it's accessible. Between the "L" Trains, Buses, and Taxis it is very easy to get around the city. At the same time the convenient transportation has its negatives.

On a Saturday evening, my GF and I were traveling up north to Lincoln Park to meet some friends for dinner. You would think a few stops on the red line and then a transfer to the brown line would be an easy 25 minute task. But as we've learned throughout the years, nothing in the awkward chronicles world is easy. The first step was to walk from our condo to the red line. This usually is a short walk that takes five minutes. With the blustery winds, spitting ice rain drops, and overall cold temperature the walk felt like it was an hour. It was so nasty out, I almost felt like I was about to throw up. When I saw the sign for the red line, I thought I was walking towards heaven. (Which in reality would consist of rainbow sprinkles, muppets, and breasts.)

We walk down the steps to get on the train. Right before we hit the turn-styles to swipe our CTA (Chicago Transit Authority) cards, there is a homeless guy arguing with one of the CTA workers. Not a big deal, seen it before, but its nothing you like to see. We wait for the train... I'm always a big fan of walking way down the concourse, that way the train won't be as crowded when you get on it since the majority of people are lazy. The train comes and we get on a car that is not too crowded. We sit down and enjoy the ride. Not so fast... The train has a horrid, dispicalbe vomit smell. Not just a standard vomit smell, that I can tolerate. I'm talking about a mega nastry, vile, stench smell so bad, that would make horse manure seem like a perfume. People are on the train had to literally cover up their noses. I'm not trying to point figures, but there was a homeless man sitting a few seats in front of us. After an extensive investigation, we came to the conclustion that his feet were the source of the vomit smell. My GF could not tolerate the smell any longer, so we had to change cars at the next stop.

We change cars and get away from the heinous stench. Now we can comfortably enjoy the rest of the ride. Not so fast... A different homeless guy walks in and gives his 20 second plea for money. I do feel bad for the situation he is in, but given that I've been unemployed for the last few months I unfortunately have nothing to spare. The homeless man moves on to the next car. The train stops, a man gets on, and sits behind us while he talks on his cell phone. He is carrying a large garbage bag with lots of crap in it. I don't intend to be nosey, but when somebody talks really loud I have trouble blocking it out. So it appears this individual is talking to an ex-convict, who just got out of jail and is now homeless. The individual says, "I know your homeless, but I can't help you unless you got your papers in order. Do you have your Social Security Card? Your Birth Certificate? You gotz to have your papers."

So apparently what we have going on is a guy who has a ex-convict, homeless friend and the friend needs his help. The conversation takes a bit of a peculiar direction when the individual on the train starts asking more about his friend's background. "When you call, just ask for Allsion and tell her that I sent you. But they're not going to help you out, if you got shit on your background." I picture the ex-convict/homeless guy on the phone saying "What do you mean by shit?" The individual on the train replies, "Like have you ever killed anybody, raped anybody? Minor defenses are okay, but if you killed or raped anybody then you're in trouble.

As this very pleasant conversation is going on, all of the sudden there is an unbearable screeching sound going on that almost made my ears bleed. It was one of the worst sounds I've ever heard in my life. It was like the combination of fingernails on a chalkboard, going to the dentist, Fran Drescher Karaoke, and my parents making sweet love. (Okay, maybe I went a little far with the last one.) Apparently, the sound was from the train scraping against the tracks during one of its turns. After 30 seconds of this, the screeching sound died down, and it was time to pick-up from our delightful phone conversation.

The individual on the phone then says, "What about any sexual molestation? Because you might have to be around kids or something. Oh sorry man, I can't help you out then." So apparently this ex/convict/homeless friend on the phone, was able to pass the test with murder and rape. But when it came to sexual molestation, he surrendered in defeat. I don't know about you, but molesting always gets me too. As the conversation came to a close, it was finally time to get off and transfer trains. Fortunately, nothing else of importance occurred on the second train and we made it to Lincoln Park safely.

So the next time you want to complain about the CTA and the increase in rates, think twice about it. Make sure you enjoy the free amenities that come with it. Such as, the crazy guy arguing with the CTA worker, the smell of horrid vomit, pan-handlers asking for money, lovely phone conversations about murder, rape, and molestation, and random screeching sounds that will make you go deaf. I love the CTA!

I'm Out!

Tuesday, December 02, 2008

The Jerry Springer Show

Since there is nothing of great importance for me to talk about this week, I've decided to go into the Awkward vault and share with you a story that happened about five years ago...

I had just graduated college with all the hopes, aspirations, and dreams in the world. I've always been very fond of the entertainment industry and knew that I wanted to write for TV/Film. To avoid moving to LA or New York, I thought why not and work for the "Jerry Springer Show." And that's what I did for about five months of my life. My position title was Production Intern. I thought this internship would open numerous doors for me in the industry. Even though the show had no writers, my naive self thought maybe I could be the first one. I can't say my five months at Springer were an enjoyable experience, but I can say that many interesting stories resulted from it.

We would normally fly the guests in the day before the show. The show paid for all the airfare, hotels, and food. The guests are not paid at all to come on the show. So when the guests fly in, the producers want them to be entertained and have a fun-filled day in Chicago. Because the happier the guests are, the more responsive they'll be to the producer, and the better the show will be. Many of these guests have never been to a big city like Chicago and to avoid them staying out of trouble, they need a chaperon. Any guesses of who that chaperon would be? It's not Jerry... It's not that Bald-Headed A-Hole, Steve Wilko.... It was me! Yes, I was given the great responsibility of entertaining these freaks for a whole day. We would take a lovely waltz down to Navy Pier, stroll down the Magnificent Mile, play at ESPN Sports Zone, or stop in at the House of the Blues. Now don't get me wrong, some of the guests I worked with were decent human beings; others, well, they were probably the worst human beings you have ever met in your life.

One day before the taping, I waddled over to the associate producer to find out what guests would be flying in. Her response to me was that the guests were transvestites and are "awesome!" I realize some you might enjoy transvestites and have friends or family that are ones, or even have fetishes about them. Me on the other hand, I'm kind of scared of them. When I found out the news about the transvestite guests, I was worried, devastated, frightened, and nauseous all at the same time. I thought of ways to get out of it, but there weren't anyway. The only possible way out, was probably to hold Jerry Springer hostage. And we all know that would not be good for business.

The transvestites fly-in to meet me and the rest of the staff. I had no idea what to expect as far as their looks. I'm not saying I have a tranny fetish, but I've seen some decent looking ones in my day. One's where if you were in a dimly lit night club and intoxicated, you could be easily fooled. The two transvestites enter and they are the ugliest creatures I have ever seen in my life. Not because they were ugly transvestites, they were just downright ugly men. One looked like Cookie the Clown from the Bozo Show and the other one had a beard. Ironically, the one with the beard's real name was Jason Biggs. Strangely enough the he/she kind of looked like the actor a little bit. I thought about bringing out an apple pie and seeing how this bearded creature would react. But I did not want to risk Jason Biggs getting anymore sexually riled up. I realize these transvestites were obviously pre-op, but if you are going to dedicate yourself to looking like a woman, I think you would at least shave off your facial hair. But what the hell do I know?

It was time for me to take Cookie the Clown and Jason Biggs to their hotel and check them in. I remember walking them to their room and being a little nervous. Here are theoretically two men who could easily have their way and gang-bang me if they chose to. I'm not sayin I'm some hot young piece of ass, but I'm do-able for an ugly tranny. I open the door to their room, because we have pratically do everything for these people. They follow me in and the door shuts. The room is pinched dark and I can't see a friggin thing. I start to panic to find a light switch before I get tossed on the bed like a rag doll. I swipe my hands across the wall furiously, hoping that I'll come across a light switch or even a fire alarm. Fortunately, I find the light switch and my clothes were still on. Even though it only took me a minute to find the switch, it felt like an eternity. I quickly ask if they are okay, they reply yes, and then I get the hell out of there.

I get back to the Springer office, hoping and praying that I'm done with them. But no, there's more. The associate producer tells me that I would be accompanying them to the House of Blues because they want to go out on the town. I gave a second thought to seriously holding Jerry hostage, but again I wussed out, so I go back to the hotel to meet with my buds Cookie and Jason. They are now all dolled and ready to party. They wear the tightest, sluttiest dresses, that I don't even think prostitutes would wear. And of course, they have piled on tons of perfume. We head over in a cab to the House of Blues. I walk in with the two scantily, ugly transvestites, and here I am wearing an Indiana gray hoodie. Can you tell which person doesn't belong? The whole place is literally silent. It was almost everything stopped at once. Every single person in the joint, is staring at us when their jaws dropped. And there had to be a good 50 people in there. I prayed to God, hoping that there was not one single person there that knew of my existence. I could just picture, somebody I grew up with having dinner at the HOB, wondering, "Hmmm, I wonder what that Jonno (Me) is up to these days." And then boom, here I walk in with the trannies. I could not handle the humiliation and awkwardness any longer. I knew I was suppose to stay with the trannies for a little bit and hang out with them. But I couldn't do it. I got them a table, made sure they were situated, and got the hell out of there.

I don't remember how the show went the next day, nor do I give a crap. All I know is that I will never forget Cookie the Clown and Jason Biggs. Their existence will forever be embedded into my brain. And I don't think I have ever been more scared in my life, than the one minute I was locked into that dark hotel room with them. I hope they are doing okay and maybe have shaved a little bit. Heck, maybe I can even reach out to them on facebook or something and we can reminisce about the Good Old Springer Days. If any of you or know anybody that have a desire to work for the Jerry Springer Show, my advice would be pretty simple... May God Bless You.

I'm Out!

Monday, November 24, 2008

Zack and Miri and Grandmas Make A Porno

This past weekend I had the pleasure of viewing "Zack and Miri Make A Porno." And don't worry I didn't pull a Pee-Wee Herman at the theater. I already did that for "High School Musical 3." What? You obviously did not see the Zack Efron shower scene. Anyways, I waddle into the theater with my big bucket of popcorn and beverage. I don't know about you, but I am cursed at movie theaters. No matter where I sit, what time of day, or how long the movie has been out, I always have some idiot sit by me and ruin the movie. I wish I could be one of those people who can tune it out. But I can't. I also wish I could be one of those people who say something out loud to the idiots. But I can't. Instead I give some sort of mean looking stare, thinking that my intimidating facial expression is going to get the idiots to shut the hell up. When in reality, I look as harmless as a little puppy in the fetal position. Not sure why I used that reference, but let's just go with it.

So whenever I walk into the theater I try to think the opposite of what a normal person would do. And in general most people are lazy. So if I have a choice to enter through the left side or the right side, I will go into the side that is the least convenient. I know it might sound crazy, but for some reason it works. Now this is something I still don't get and maybe some of you can help me out with this... What is the fascination with sitting in the middle? It makes no difference for the movie experience. Don't you realize that? So not only do you have to squeeze by people in the aisle, but you have to surround yourself with people you have no desire to sit by. I can't even tell you the last time I've sat in the middle. My strategy is always to sit in an aisle seat, away from the idiots. I don't know what it is, but I have this psychic ability to tell whose is going to be annoying and disruptive. Just by looking at somebody for one second, I can sense if they are going to be a loud-mouth jackass. Some people find cures, I find the idiots.

So we sit in our seats. An aisle seat towards the back of course. There's a group of middle-aged women down the row, to the right. Now, I knew they were going to be annoying right away. But it wasn't the talking type of annoying. It was the laughing type. You know the type of people who laugh at every single stupid ass thing. Like the people who even laugh at the commercials and the most obvious jokes. For example, when somebody falls down or gets hit the face. These women were rolling on the ground laughing. Man, where were those women when I bombed at doing stand-up? I don't like it, but the laughing idiots are the people I can somewhat tolerate. The non-stop commentary and I'm-so-popular-I-have-a-cellphone idiots, are a whole other story.

There is one other type of movie-goer nobody likes to sit by. And that's the elderly demographic. Don't get me wrong, I love my sweet elderly people. Heck, I practically am one. But if there are two places we rather avoid the elderly - at restaurants and movies. I don't know what it is about them, but they don't know how to shut the hell up when the lights go down. Maybe they don't care anymore or they don't realize it, but whatever the case is they're annoying. So the movie is about to start, I'm sitting in my aisle seat, stuffing my face with popcorn like how a person would eat in a pie eating contest. My laughing buffoons are sitting to my right. Not the best situation, but I can deal with it. Then out of nowhere come these three elderly ladies. And I can hear them talking miles away. I don't know if God was trying to punk me here, but I was devastated. I felt like a fat kid dropping his ice cream cone. They walk up slowly and of course sit in the row behind me. Not directly behind me, but a few seats down. I turned to my GF, with a look of devastation. I could not believe it. When you go see a movie called "Zack and Miri Make A PORNO" you doubt that you would have to worry about the older demographic. I don't know what these three older ladies were thinking. Maybe they were the founding sisters of Pornography or they thought they were seeing "Cocoon 3." I don't know and I was pissed off!

They sit in their seats, the movie begins, and there is non-stop chitter chatter. If you are not aware, this movie is probably the most foul-mouthed film that I've seen in a long time. I think I counted a total of 100 instances they used the words "Cock" and "Pussy" in the first five minutes. I tried my best to block out the laughing buffoons and the elderly mumblings, but it was way too much for my ADD to handle. Finally about a half hour into the movie and the one thousand mention of the word "anal" the elderly trio got up and walked out. Thank the Jewish Lord for that one! Whew! Now all I had to do was put up with the laughing buffoons. The movie was fair, it got a little too slow for me. But I would recommend maybe seeing it when it comes out on DVD, because some of the dialogue is pretty good. Seth Rogen pulls off his same old shtick and Craig Robinson from "The Office" has some good lines. But what's the deal with Elizabeth Banks? Not only is she in the movie I was watching, but also two previews as well. I mean is she taking over Hollywood or something? Producers and casting directors.... Give it a rest with the Elizabeth Bank overkill. I beg you!

I apologize for the Elizabeth Banks rant. It was something I needed to get off my chest. In conclusion, I realize there is no way to stop idiots, laughing buffoons, hey look at me cell phone guy, or the elderly commentators. But one thing we can stop, is for people to be informed about the movie before they decide to go see it. All it takes is a simple phone call to your grandmother/grandfather, or informing a random elderly person walking down the street and letting them know that "Zack and Miri Make A Porno" is not a good movie for them to see. Little by little, with every body's help, we can make a difference. We can change.

I'm Out!

Friday, November 14, 2008

The 5K, Cosby Kid, Fire Hydrant Race

This past weekend I had the pleasure of participating in my first ever 5K race. I know some of you may say, "What's the big deal about a 5K?" "Try doing a 10K or a half marathon, then write a friggin blog." You would be surprised to find out that the 5K race is a huge milestone for me. I would love to lie to you and tell you I'm this miraculous individual who made an unthinkable recovery after breaking both legs and was told by doctors that I would never be able to walk again. My situation was something of far more importance. I was a fat kid my friends.

I remember in gym class when we had to do the atrocious annual mile run. It was the day we all dreaded on the calendar, the day we tried to call in sick, or the day we wanted to drop out of school. But for some reason it always seemed impossible to avoid it. No matter what we did to run away from it, the mile run would catch us. Given my physical limitations, the run was never an easy feat for me. It involved a lot of Fatty McGee wheezing, walking, panting, and a facial expression that I had eaten too many prunes. Nevertheless, I knew one day I would be able to conquer the mile run with great ease.

Cut to today, I've been running consistently since my Junior year of college. My jogging consists of nothing too intense, two miles 3-4 times a week. I never felt the need to add any more kilometers to the work-out. In the last month or so, I've been stretching my runs to about 3 miles, with the aide of my lovely, vivacious, marathon runner GF. So it was now time to test my training and endurance. My GF and I, were going to be in Cleveland for a wedding and conveniently there was a 5K race the same weekend. So we signed up, along with her popz and her bro. The race started at 9am. I wasn't necessarily nervous by any means, but I was curious as to how I was going to perform.

I don't mean to make any of you nauseous, so I apologize beforehand. (I seem to write this in all my entries.) But I did not have my routine bathroom experience that morning, if you catch my drift. In other words, I did not drop the Cosby kids off at the pool. And I'm used to dropping Vanessa, Denise, Theo, and sometimes even Rudy during my morning routine. We get to the facility where the run was starting at. And suddenly I felt some small eruptions in the stomach area. I didn't know if it was nerves, or if I really had to use the restroom. We checked in and the eruptions were not getting any better. I thought about just waiting till after the run, but at the same time I didn't want to have to stop during the middle of the race and not be able to finish it. The other problem was that the race was going to start in the next few minutes. So I couldn't risk the race starting and then here I am bursting out of the bathroom with my pants around my ankles, yelling "Wait! Wait for me!", and tripping over myself. I quickly made the executive decision to just use the restroom now and try and be as quick as possible. Mission accomplished! The Cosby Kids were dropped off at the pool, Theo did a cannonball, and we were ready to roll!

It's time for the race to start. I line up with the other runners, who are mostly middle-aged men and women. A handful of younger people and some elderly people. The gun goes off and here we go! My GF and have nice pace going. We're not going too fast, but not too slow. Her popz takes off and gets way ahead of us. (Apparently he runs races often and fast) A few minutes into the race, her bro has a little trouble keeping us with us. I know the nice thing to do is to stay with him, but this was not a war. It was a race, where you could leave men behind. I look about 100 feet ahead of us and see these two short, stocky, fire hydrant shaped women in front of us. They look like they are running pretty slow, but they are a pretty big distance in front of us. I turned to my GF and said to her, "We gotta pass them." We did not do it right away, our plan was to pace ourselves. I wasn't worried about not being able to finish the race or something like that, but at the same time I didn't want to burn myself out too early. We hit the 1st mile checkpoint and the two fire hydrants are still in front of us chugging along. They appear to be experienced and they knew how to pace themselves. But I still wasn't going to let them beat me.

We hit the 2nd mile and they're still ahead of us. I turned to my GF and gave a look like, "Let's Do It." We turned on the accelerators and headed toward the two female fire hydrants. They didn't even see it coming. They also probably didn't give a crap about us at the same time. Regardless, we passed them and it felt good. If the Cosby kids were still with me, I don't think I would've been able to pass them. We hit the 3rd mile check-point, I'm a little winded, but I know this is the time to turn it on even more. So I run the fastest that I could at that moment to the finish line. Even though I felt like I was running fast, I'm sure in reality I was going as fast as an elderly person on an electric scooter. Waiting at the finish line was my GF's popz, who had finished the race at very impressive 27 minute time. I finished at 30:30, with GF a few steps behind. The female fire hydrants finished a few minutes later. Mission accomplished.

I'm fully aware that my time was not that great. But to be a stocky kid growing up, struggling with the gym class mile run, participating in my first race, passing the fire hydrant runners... I was pleased with the performance. To make it even better, they had munchkin donuts and some water after the race. Which made the race even that more of importance to me. What can I say? I'm a simple man, with simple desires.

I'm Out!

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

The Tricky Electronic Voting Machine

On Tuesday, November 4th, 2008, along with many millions of American citizens, I voted. Because I have moved cross country twice in the last year or so, I voted at a library in the southwest suburbs. Given the major celebrity that I am, I unfortunately cannot give you the address of my location. But if you are a curious young boy of about 7, maybe we can work something out. Big Brother settle down, I'm only kidding.

So I waddle over to the line and it's a decent turn-out. There were probably about 8 or 9 people waiting in front of me. The majority of the people were in the 50-70 age range. Which I fit perfectly in, given that I feel like a 70-year-old man trapped in a 27-year-old body. There were about 5 judges sitting down behind a table, with a box of dunkin donuts on top of it. Because I did not have any breakfast my fat kid instincts were kicking in like no other. Then out of nowhere, some man in a trench coat, almost God-like, drops off a box of variety donut holes from some local bakery. Some of the donut holes evcn had rainbow sprinkles on it! If you know anything about me, it's that I get hard on for rainbow sprinkles. Right at that moment, I thought," I must be a judge in 20012!"

I'm finally second in line and almost ready to vote. There is a gentleman, I suspect in his later 50's in front of me. One of the judges, all of the sudden makes it known, that there is a machine available to use. She says, "It's an electronic machine. It takes a little longer, but its easy to use." The gentleman does not answer, presumably because he wanted to fill out his ballot the traditional way. Bastard! So did I! I don't blame him, but he didn't have to leave me hanging out to dry. So now all eyes on me. Given that, I was representing the youth of America at this voting destination and for the sake of the long line, I loudly proclaimed, "I'll do it." I know people were thinking in their heads, "Wow look at how brave and courage this young man is." Or others may have of thought, "Why does he keep staring at those rainbow sprinkled donut holes?"

I then sat down face to face with my electronic machine. I correctly fed my ballot into machine. So far so good. The ballot was now electronically displayed on the screen and all I had to do was touch screen my votes. Seem easy right? One would think so. I accurately place my finger on the circle next to Obama/Biden (I would've voted for Alf, but his name was not on the ballot). And for some reason this electronic machine, filled in the circle next to McCain/Palin. I mean don't get me wrong, my dad is a Maverick and my mother is a Hockey Mom, and I once dated a Plumber named Joe... Regardless, that's not who I wanted to vote for! I touched the Obama/Biden circle again and it worked. Whew! Now came for the next 20 selections. The touch screen got progressively worse. I would touch the circle of who I wanted to vote for and nothing would happen. I would touch it five, six times and would get nothing. It was almost like the ATM machines, when you are trying withdrawal money. And you want to withdraw $40 and the somehow the machine thinks you hit $20. That error was occurring non-stop! It got to the point with some of the judges, where if the machine selected a different one than I had selected, I just moved on and didn't fix the error. I just wanted to get the heck away from this machine! I turn around and noticed an old lady in a wheel chair behind me. She was waiting to use the same demonic machine, because it was the only voting booth that had a chair. I tried to give her this look, like "Go away from here. Stay away! Far away! Kind of like how you see in those horror movies, where the killer is around, but the other person can't say out loud that it's around. But the little old booger wouldn't budge. I thought our elderly brainwaves would mesh and she would be able to decipher what I was thinking. But there was no luck. She was determined to sit in that chair and vote.

I finally finished up the voting, frustrated and pissed off as hell. What was suppose to be a liberating, fun voting experience turned out to be quite the opposite. All because of this stinkin', demented, voting machine! I thought about grabbing one of the scrumptious donut holes as an FU to the judges for making me use the machine. Fortunately my conscious got the best of me and told me otherwise.

Mysterious old lady in the wheelchair, hopefully you are reading this on your 1994 IBM computer with the AOL dial-up connection. And you accept my sincere apology for not making you aware of the malfunctions of the machine. God knows, you are probably still at the voting station, touching that screen with no luck. Hopefully our paths will cross again in 2012 and we will protest the end of the electronic voting machine.

I'm Out!

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Beverly Hills Chihuahua, Segways, and Gary Busey

-May I just say, that there is no better feature on a computer than the "system restore" option. My God, I can't tell you how many times it has saved me. I love you system restore, I really do. FYI I did not get my last virus from pornographic sites.

-I don't understand why people are so lazy. When you are about to get on the L train, don't go on the first cart you see. That is going to be the most congested area of the train. Always walk down a few carts and then enter the train. Unless you are handicapped, in fear of missing the train, or, want to grind against a homeless guy that smells like vomit... Then yes, enter the train right away and have a hoot!

-To demonstrate my confusion on the amount of undecided voters out there, I will reference a quote from Humorist, David Sedaris on this issue. " To put them in perspective, I think of being on an airplane. The flight attendant comes down the aisle with her food cart and, eventually, parks it beside my seat. “Can I interest you in the chicken?” she asks. “Or would you prefer the platter of shit with bits of broken glass in it?”

-Speaking of the election and society. (Segway) I have so much faith that the American public will make the most educated and intelligent decision on this upcoming election. Given that "Beverly Hills Chihuahua" has grossed over $70 million dollars and was #1 in the box office its 1st two weeks. God help us.

-Speaking of Segways, (Another great segway) I actually did the Segway Chicago Tour. Let me just say, despite freezing my toochis off, I had a great time. And more importantly, I proved to the world that special and slow people can ride a segway without harming themselves or other people. In other words, I'm the Jackie Robinson of segways.

-I watched the first episode of Celebrity Rehab 2. (Yes, I am unemployed at the moment) And one of the participants or "mentors" on the show is Gary Busey. He could honestly be the most entertaining individual in the business right now. If studio executives, are reading this, which I know they are, he must be casted on every single television program and film right this minute.

-Speaking of reality shows, (Don't worry I won't give a segway shout-out) What the hell is the deal with that douchey chef Rocco? That guy is on every single television program. Who the hell is he and why is he on the my television screen? The only way he should be allowed on TV, is if he wrestles Gary Busey in a steel cage match. Now we're talking!

-Is it just me or has "The Office" been lackluster so far this season? It seems like they are going more for the emotion than comedy. But I will say a new show that I have enjoyed is "Worst Week" on CBS. My only question for that show is, couldn't they of found a better actor?

-I was enjoying Pink's new song "So What" until every single radio station started playing this song 100 times a day. Thank you radio, for killing another song. This is reminiscent of what happened to Nickleback's "Photograph" song.

-I can't believe I picked up QB Kyle Orton for my fantasy team. Who the heck would of thunk it?
-The best Halloween costume you can buy this year is ...

P.S. The doggie shirt does not come with it.

I'm Out!

Saturday, October 04, 2008

Run Sarah Palin Run... Far Away

-If you're looking to watch a nice light comedy on DVD. Rent "Run Fatboy Run." (And no its not my Bar Mitzvah Video. That was titled, "Read the Torah, Fatboy, Read the Torah."

-I don't know about you, but Joe Biden impressed the heck out of me Thursday Night. Sarah Joe Six-Pack, hockey mom, maverick, drill baby drill, Palin did not.

-How great is it that the Cubs got swept in 3 games? I mean this team pre-maturely celebrated everything. First, the great Eddie Vedder sings a song about them. Then they have a parade just for getting the playoffs. Man, can this team be any more obnoxious?

-I'm watching the latest season of the "Biggest Loser:Families" First of all they coud easily edit the show down to a half hour rather than two hours. And watching the host, Allison Sweeney, should be the next new sleeping pill prescribed by doctors. She's not bad looking, just put a muzzle on her.

-If you are looking for a tasty dish, order the Chorizo, Egg, and Rock Shrimp Breakfast Burrito at the "Bongo Room." You will thank me later.

-When did Jimmy Kimmel turn into such a great talk show host? He's going to be the next Letterman.

-How about those 3-2 Bears? Kyle Orton and that offense is a lot better than we expected. The division is there's to lose.

-I just finished reading the Rosie O'Donnel's latest book "Celebrity Detox." Don't ask why, but I read it. She mentioned in her book that she used to purposely break bones in her body when she was a kid. I wished she would've breaken more bones in her hands to prevent her from writing this book.

-We need to get rid of all these little restaurants/cafes with close seating. I can't stand it! The person next to me is always eavesdropping on my conversations. I mean don't get me wrong, I've eavesdropped on my fair share of conversations, but I always don't make eye contact. This woman the other day was staring into my eyes as she was eavesropping the whole time! I thought I was going to hear Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes" playing in the background. People, next time you want to eavesdrop during my meal, at least offer me a bite of your entree. It's the least you can do for the free entertainment I offer.

I'm Out!

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

The Scream Heard Around the World

This past weekend, my significant other's family came into town. This probably is my third or fourth time meeting them, so I'm still not 100 percent at the comfortable stage yet. Nonetheless, her parents are very nice people. Throughout my history, I've always had trouble with the fathers of the girls I've dated. I have always felt this heavy awkward spirit whenever I'm in their presence. With the moms, I'm good. I'm golden. With the dads, I can't even make a coherent sentence. Although, I do have trouble making coherent sentences in my everyday life. Maybe I should look into that? I've wondered where does this awkward tension come from? Is it because I feel guilty that I have seen their daughter naked and have done filthy things to them? Filthy things with consent I may add. Sorry to make you nauseous, but this is something that I can't seem to figure out.

Anyways on a Saturday we all go out for dinner. My girlfriend (we'll call her GF), her bro, parents, aunt, uncle, grandma, sister, nephew, brother-in-law, etc... You get the point. The whole gang is there. We went to a place called Quartinos. ( It's like this Italian tapas place where everybody shares each others entree. My fat kid self and I usually like any place that we waddle over to. But for some reason I received the worst service and I refuse to ever go back there. And I'm not some restaurant snob, I usually like anywhere I go. To make a long story short, they never gave my entree (pizza) that I ordered. We had a waiter and waitress for our table. After everybody got their meals, I mentioned to the waitress that I never got my entree. She told me she would go check and she never came back to give me an explanation. I saw our waiter, asked him what the deal is? and he told me it would be the next pizza out. 15 minutes later it never came. It wasn't the biggest deal since I had already ate enough that night and plus from my over-eating for the last 27 years I can probably starve myself for the next 10 years and be okay. But this was more about the principle people. I don't mean to brag, but I've worked in customer service before. And I would never, ever neglect a customer like that. I mean if they were smelly or psychotic maybe I would. And I am neither of those two. Okay, I'm trying to take care of the smelly part.

Overall, the bad service made for a bit of a stressful night. It kind of put a damper on the conversation flow and other dining aspects that we take for granted. Finally the waitress comes back out, after everybody is done eating, and apologizes for the mishap. She asks me if I would like to have the pizza now or get it to go. Because everyone was pretty much done I didn't know what to do. But I knew people at the table were waiting to try some of my pizza. So I was conflicted on what to do. My GF was sitting to my right, so I politely tapped on her shoulder to consult with her. I got no answer from her because she was engaged in a conversation with her aunt. I tapped her again on the shoulder and still nada. No answer. In hindsight, I should of been more decisive and answered the question on my own. But to me this quandary that I was in, was like Sophie's Choice and I had no answer. With the waitress still waiting for my answer and the urgency, I then slightly grabbed my GF's arm to get her attention. Out of nowhere she belts out a massive, loud, SCREAM that the whole city of Chicago felt. She turns to me and says "Owww, that really hurt!" I am now frozen and do not know how to respond. The whole family is staring at me, including her father like I have just physically abused her. I do not know if you've ever seen me before but in most cases 9/10 times a girl would beat me up in a fight. I might fare better in the W66-90 demographic. Plus, I have the most feminine, softest hands that feel like feathery pillow. And I cry when somebody pinches me. In conclusion, I am not that strong. But for some reason my GF decided to yelp and called for 911 when I grabbed her arm to get her attention. Later, she apologized for her outburst and said I just caught her by surprise. Unfortunately her apology did not change the scowl on her father's face, as he looked at me with extreme rage. Which I don't blame him for. I would do the same thing if some dufus dildo did that to my daughter. Let's just say the awkward conversations between him and I will unfortunately have to continue.

I'm Out!

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Can you say "Menage a trois"?

-Apparently "America's Next Top Model" has a post-op transvestite as one of their contestants. I now have 801 reasons to not watch this show.

-Can you say karma as the reason for Tom Brady's injury? I think Bridget Moynahan strategically placed a banana peel on the field.

-The Bears defense impressed the heck out of me last week. And I hate to brag, but I kind of predicted a win to my close confidants. Who am I kidding? I really don't have any close confidants, but do demented homeless people count?

-David Duchovny is seeking to get help for his sexual addiction problem. It's horrible what the side effects of chasing aliens can do to you. I recently heard that Bill Clinton and Charlie Sheen are competing to replace him in the next X-Files movie.

-Call me crazy, but I actually enjoy watching "The View." I get a kick out of that Joy Behar. But good God, can somebody please hit that Survivor Hasselback with a frying pan?

-I actually thought about this recently. And I was trying to figure out how much money it would take for me to go see "Disaster Movie." I came to the consensus that a grand would do it.

-I will use the "Disaster Movie" money to start the "Hit Survivor Hasselback with a Frying Pan" fund.

-I recently saw Chris Brown and Rihanna when I walked out of a movie theater the other day. Can you say "Menage a trois"? Actually I did say that and now have a restraining order against me and a black eye.

-Why is it that every picture of the Jonas Brothers, the youngest one, Nick, poses like Zoolander. I find it very annoying. In other news, I'm not gonna lie, the middle Jonas is not a bad looking kid. Can you say "Menage a trois plus one? "

I'm Out!