"Don't Feel Much Like Ridin'"

Today, Gancey Girlfriend and I drive the three or four hours out to her hometown for Thanksgiving and then back to the Chicago area to see Dr. Ken's family (the middle-nephew has pneumonia, and he's in the hospital, so hopefully he'll be okay). On the drives, while Gancey Girlfriend works on her thesis, I was thinking of listening to all the best albums by Beck, since I just downloaded his entire catalog very illegally.

I've always wanted to do a long road trip and listen to one artist in chronological order, like all the way across the states playing my entire Pink Floyd collection.

How about you, Seven Readers, have you ever done that, and if you did, which artist would you bump in your ride? If you're not a music person, then perhaps an author's stuff on books on tapes or some podcasts, perhaps?

Don't You Hate It When Your "Ant" Comes to Visit?

My kitchen has ants. It was only a matter of time with five dudes at a time living in this joint for centuries, but even if it was all too predictable, it's still disgusting, unnerving, and annoying.

My one roomy is going to buy something that worked when she had ants in her car (huh?): you leave this shit out, the ants gather it up thinking it's food, bring it back to their nest, and they all kick the bucket. I love that concept because only one or two come out at a time, so we need to infiltrate somehow, and this is the only way. We need an ant on the inside . . .

I got thinking about this one ant who brings back this bad, bad shit. Maybe you have been to a party, brought some taco dip you left in your car an hour or so too long and some people got the shits. That's a dick move, but did everyone die? Did thousands of ants (people, whatever. I'm confusing myself) die??? That ant has to feel like a real bone head - just before he bites it.

Taco Martial Arts Theater

1. I'm booking the theater time for my second play. I've put this thing off long enough. I now have my director, who is a good friend who I can trust, and he is excited to work with me again, having been one of the lead actors in the first one. We're going to meet every week to figure out what it is these characters want, and what should happen to them. That's the part where I always need help, and once I'm there, the dialog comes out beautifully, so I'm excited to get to that point again. Look to be in Chicago in Early October of next year, or whenever we decide to do it. I'll let you know in the next couple of weeks.

2. I've been sick for a few days, and I've been watching way, way too much mixed martial arts. I have even been researching stuff like muay thai and all kinds of styles of kneeing people in the face that I, personally, will never employ. It's the most interested I've been in sports since the 1990's when the Chicago Bulls were good and those sporadic season when the Chicago Cubs get my hopes up before remembering that they suck and showing their true colors: red, white, blue, and suck.

3. I have plans to go to my mom and dad's place for taco night, and I just can't cancel due to illness because I keep hearing this in my head: "Son, you've made a mockery of taco night." That was an article from The Onion, the snarky, Madison, Wisconsin based phony story publication, and I just can't bail on my folks and live up to that article. So, time to suck it up . . .

That Ottoman Got Worked!

I know this Youtube video is super old, but these stupid ottoman fuckers just popped in my head.

I like the first guy, Relentless, telling us that the other four are in the back getting ready, but he's impatient; he just has to start tappin' that ottoman ass!

Next, it's "your boy X2C" (pronounced ecstasy, somehow), and he is about to show us what he's got, while Relentless dismounts the thoroughly humped ottoman, taking his shirt off not so smoothly as it catches on his head, and then he rolls his belly in-and-out like Wayne in Waynes World. That's frickin' hot!

Then comes the fella with my favorite name, Pipelayer, who can't wait to get a piece of that sweet ottoman ass, at which time Relentless exits stage left, and X2C sits on his rear end, awkwardly making air butterflies with his legs and pelvis. What I like about Pipelayer is he's not conventional and doesn't follow trends; notice how he humps in the opposite direction of the other boys. So, would that be the ottoman's mouth?

And along comes Pressure, who has a solo act just after Pipelayer falls off the fornicated furniture and leaves, and X2C clumsily crawls out of frame.

Satisfaktion has no speech at all - just states his name and gets to humpin, while Pressure squats down before the three foot mirror to watch himself do some crouching undulating.

Of course, we then have a grand finale' curtain call, with all our Ottoman humpers coming out at once! At this point, it's getting a little crowded, strange, and perhaps a little gay. Okay, a lot gay. Relentless goes right after the door, gyrating upon it while rubbing his own face, then grabbing the door knob and the handle on the linen closet and humping some serious air. They all have an air orgy together and casually walk off, leaving us feeling . . . I'm not sure what.

Have a look and let me know what you think. As always, make sure you turn off the music player along the left side of the blog before hitting play. Enjoy. Give my best to Pipelayer.



So, your thoughts?

"There he is!"

The best things to say when you don't know someone's name and they seem to know yours are . . .

"What's up?!"

"Hey, buddy!"

"Hey, big guy!"

"Hey there, chief!"

"Good to see you!"

Any of those will do, but when you work with kids like I do, and every damn kid seems to know Dr. Ken's name, you do like this:

Kid: Hi, Dr. Kenneth Noisewater!
Dr. Ken: There he is!

The expression "There he is!" implies that you have been looking for him or just looking forward to seeing him, making the guy feel special, even though usually you're pretty sure you've never met him. It does wonders, especially if you deliver it with a smile and some enthusiasm.

What's your standby phrase when you don't know who in the heck someone is?

West Rules

Yesterday, while having lunch at a McDonalds on the West Side of Chicago, I heard a man say loudly in front of customers, "I left my mufuckin' jacket in the car." I thought to myself, maybe this guy doesn't work here. He couldn't possibly use the MF word so blatantly like that and be on the clock, but yes, then I saw him change a liner on a garbage can continuing to pepper the conversation he was having with his friend with sporadic expletives.

I learned this is okay on the West Side, and you know what else is a-okay by me in that part of town or any other? Hushpuppies dipped in tarter sauce. Sound gross? I say judge not until you've dipped one of those "mufuckas."

Excuses, Excuses

It only happens around two or three times per jog, but I don't like people passing me up when I'm running; I immediately get tired and deflated, so I make up excuses to make me feel better about myself. Like this . . .

"God bless! I feel like a champ. Legs are holding up well and -

(Runner whizzes by Dr. Ken)

oh shit, look at this guy flying by me. But, you know, he's nose-to-toes in spandex, so he doesn't count cause he's all hardcore and stuff, so I'm good. I guess . . . except for this little pebble in my shoe. How is it that they start to feel like boulders after a while . . .

(yet another jogger passes him up)

"Son of a . . . who does this guy think he is? Oh, but wait. I saw this same fucker walking a little ways back, so he must be doing some sort of stop-start circuit training or cross training or what-have-you. What is the difference between circuit and cross training anyhow? Oh well, I still feel all right, except I'm getting a little chafing action on my inner thigh. Is that because I have fat thighs or something? I don't think I do. Maybe I need to lube up with Vaseline down there before I . . .

(Again, another runner blows by him)

"- oh, what the hell! And this is a woman! And she's old. Older than baseball, this one! This is humiliating. But . . . If she's old, odds are she's been running a long time. Experience goes a long way in the running game, I'm told."

How's about you, Seven Readers? Does anyone use any positive/negative self-talk to get you through the day? ?