I Called a Chicago Radio Station Today To Talk About Some Personal Stuff . . .

. . . and I got through on the first try! The producer guy picked up, asked me my name, I told him my name, and he liked what I had to say and said he'd get me on the air. As I sat on hold, it dawned on me that I gave my real name, so I hung up.

Best Man No-no's

I'm going to be giving a Best Man speech at HLP's* wedding in a couple of weeks, and I've put together a list of things not to say in a speech.

- Don't spend too much time talking about how close you and the groom are. Just a couple quick words about how you know one another, not an "I love this guy, man" type of thing.

- If you have a story to tell about the groom, make it one - just one. Also, don't tell ones that are too embarrassing and mean. I went to one not too long ago where I was really pissed because the guy told around three stories all highlighting why the groom, who I think is a terrific guy, is absent minded.

- Don't ever, ever talk about the bachelor party. Even saying, "I'm not going to talk about the bachelor party is saying too much.

- Don't try to be too funny. This isn't your big break into comedy, it's just a time to say a few nice words about the bride and groom. And don't laugh at your own jokes.

- Keep it short. Anything over five minutes is too long.

- Don't forget to thank everyone who helped make the night possible.

- Only one toast, not two or three.

- I know it's nerve racking to talk in front of hundreds of people, and I know it's an open bar, but don't get too drunk. I'd say a three drink maximum before the speech is a good rule of thumb.

Any other good rules I should abide by that I've forgotten? Let me know before I unknowingly break one that you think I should stick to. Thanks!

---------------------------
*HLP = Heterosexual Life Partner

"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

t1. 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? ?

Grapples

I came across Grapples today at the supermarket, and I just had to buy them. They're part apple, part grape. Turns out they're just less crisp than apples with a mild grape flavor. They're not bad, but I'd much rather have an apple, like a Granny Smith. Who the heck was she anyway? Who cares? This guy. Just looked it up, and it's named after some lady who created them in Australia in the 1800's.

Even if Grapples are less than spectacular, I think the name Grapple kicks so much ass, that I have no regrets buying Grapples.

Just say it a few times. "Grapple, Grapple, Grapple."

The homepage has a link where you can become a fan of them on Facebook. Who the F would do that? This guy.

This (mostly) every day posting is causing an all time low in material . .

Let's Pet Puppies!

There's a shop on Ashland and Roscoe in Chicago called Let's Pet Puppies in which patrons walk in the door, sanitize their hands, and take all kinds of puppies out of their cages and pet the shit out of them. It's good in that you can cheer yourself up on a bad day by holding all kinds of adorable little puppies of various breeds, but bad because you feel like an asshole when you have to put them back in their little two by three cages. Today, Gancey Girfriend and I petted Multipoos (Multese and poodle mix) and Shih Poo (Shitzu and poodle mixes), and they were God damned cute as fuck.


(Shih Poo)


(Multipoo)

How about you, Seven Readers? At which shop do you like to window shop with no intention of buying a darned thing?

Dr. Kenneth "The Gancer" Noisewater began his embarrassing Mixed Martial Arts "career" with a humiliating defeat in which, after being on the receiving end of a series of hammer fists in a ground-in-pound, actually said in his post-fight interview something no one calling himself a "fighter" should say: "I want my mommy." He didn't fare much better in his second bout where he was submitted by a rear naked choke after going in for an ill-advised "noogie." In his third and final fight, the doctor was again submitted, this time by a guillotine, after he tried to climb out of the cage, later claiming that it was not an act of cowardice, but instead an attempt to win because he thought it was a "Steel Cage Match, you know, like Hulk Hogan and shit."

I Looked Inside My Left Testicle Yesterday . . .

. . . and it was just as gross-looking as you might think. The experience was made even weirder by the goofiest x-ray-tech-guy of all time. So, I'm lying on the bed thing with my pants around my ankles, he's to the left of me, rubbing the x-ray thing on my bean bag, and his laptop thing with the monitor showing the inside of my junk is over my left shoulder. At one point, he is struggling to get the right grip on one nut with both hands, so he asks me to pinch my testicle so that he could hit the button on the keyboard to freeze a picture. Is that normal? Then, he asks me to hit the freeze button while he does what he has to do with my business, and it wasn't easy because I had to reach back and hit it with my pinky, with my bare finger, the one that was touching my balls moments ago. Is that sanitary?


I felt in good hands with the doctor, but this x-ray guy has me all nervous and stuff. All signs are pointing to the lump being harmless, but I won't know for sure for another week or two. I wish I didn't have to have such a hands-on x-ray experience because now I keep seeing that evil, evil lump in my mind, all white and cancery . . .

*That pic is not the inside of my testicle, but it's someone's, according to Google Images.

Top 5 Coolest Kids in TV and Film History

Here's a link to an article I published over at Starpulse with that name: Link

Comment here, comment there, but comment in both places and we'll be the best of friends.

Adult Days Off

What I'm Doing on My Day Off Today:

Go downtown to the apple store to exchange my broken ipod, parking my car for no less than 15 bucks.

Go to the doctor to get blood tests (so I can't eat all day on my day off)

Go to the bank to cash three checks that all together don't even add up to fifty bucks

Do work for my job because I still have a very busy Thursday and Friday left in this week.

What I did with a day off as a 15-years-old

Play Sega and Nintendo for around 6 hours to the sounds of thrash metal like Anthrax and Pantera.

Wander into the kitchen a few dozen time through out the day, eating Doritos, homemade cookies, and cans of non-diet soda, and never get fat.

Meet my neighbor out front and video tape ourselves making diving football catches into a big pile of leaves, with dirty leaves going down my shirt, making me itch, and I won't even shower before going to bed.

Throw the Frisbee for the dog out back. She will catch 6 out of 13 throws, bringing it back to me 4 out of 13.

You tell me which is a better way to spend your Veteran's Day.

The Best Thing To Say When You're Giving a Cat Treats in the Morning

When I leave for work every morning, part of my routine was feeding the cat. Lately, Gancey Girlfriend has started doing it sometimes, so on those days, I just don't know what to tell Punk Ass (that's one of the cat's names) when she runs into the kitchen and jumps onto the counter looking at me all cute like I'm going to open up a can of wet food and plop it into a bowl for her. Instead, I've opted for hooking her up with some treats, which I sprinkle onto the granite for her. Yesterday morning, I had more sleep than I'm used to, was feeling a little giddy as a result, so I poured them out all gangster like I was at a titty bar (kitty bar?), saying "make it rain!"

Boys Don't Cry

I busted out crying out of nowhere in a diner late Friday night. It was a combination of a scary doctor experience, a really sad thing going on at work, and far, far too many cheap Mexican beers. It was in front of Gancey Girlfriend, and I was a little embarrassed, it being the first time I ever broke down in front of her. But then it occurred to me that I haven't cried at all in the two years I've been with her, not even alone. Is that unusual?

I found a statistic online that said men cry, on average, 1.4 times per month. I don't think that's right. I mean, a lot of men well up with tears when they watch their favorite male tear jerker like Brian's Song, but as far as full-on weeping? It's pretty rare, I think.


How often do you cry? If you're a female, how often does a male close to you cry? Is okay for men to cry, and can you put a number to it, or does it have more to do with the intensity of the bawling?

For the record, Gancey Girlfriend was extremely supportive and understanding, which is awesome, cause if I saw a guy who looked like me blubbering into his eggs at a diner, I'd have flung hash browns at him.

Billy Blanks in a Questionable Move

I was watching a Billy Blanks kickboxing aerobics video, not participating, just watching, and I saw him put his hand on a female participant's hind quarters and say, "Look at that ass! That ass is rock hard!"

What do you think? Is that sexual harrassment? Can you think of a time where one can totally get away with perving/harrassing?

Thoughts That Went Through My Head as an Asian Indian Guy Was Feeling My Nuts

My doctor found a lump in my ball sack today, and it's probably just a harmless cyst or something - but it scared the living shit out of me. Here's what ran through my head . . .

"I haven't accomplished anything in this life. I've been putting off writing my next play for way too long, and it will never get done. If we continue to put things off, our goals, our dreams, then we are wasting the precious life that we are granted. Shit, all I've done is try to stay out of debt and get drunk on the weekends. That's it. I don't see my family nearly enough, I don't tell them how much I love them nearly enough, and I don't don't do nice things for them out of the blue nearly enough.

Where is Gancey Girfriend when I need her? Would if my screwed up balls kill me or make me sterile? Her and I will never get to make those tall good lookin' babies we're always talking about. Gosh, I love her. I need to be better to her. I just want to hug her, and she'll tell me everything is okay. She'll rub my head and say, 'It's okay, Dr. Ken. Your nuts are just fine. You're not going to die cause I won't let you because you're the sexiest man alive, lumpy nuts or not.' I really do need her, and I need that hug. I wonder if this doctor would let me hug him right quick. You know, I really trust this guy. He's the awesomest doctor ever. When I had that horrible, horrible diahrea where I thought I was going to die, where even water was getting rerouted to my butt somehow, he told me to just drink a ton of Gatorade, and voila! It came out my dick hole like it should! This guy's smart. He'll take care of my nuts."

PS- There's a far less serious post below this one. Try to comment on both if you're in the commenting mood because I'm doing 2 a day still when I publish to get caught back up to 365 in 365. XOXO - Dr. Ken.

Top 5 Songs To Play as You Drive Into a Terrible, Terrible Neighborhood in the West Side of Chicago to Work Every Monday and Alternating Tuesdays*

5. "Let Me Ride" by Dr. Dre: Dre was rollin' in his 6-4, I'm rollin' in a piece of shit Camry, but either way, when I hear this one in the hood, I feel like I have 16 switches, sounds for the bitches, and hollow points for the snitches. I have no idea what I would do with all those switches . . .


4. "Real Muthaphuckkin G's" by Eazy E: I love that this record came out claiming that another guy (Dr. Dre) was fronting as a gangster and he was a real gangster. Only in the 90's . . .


3. "Now I Feel Ya" by Scarface: Scarface became a really smooth, intelligent rapper after some of his more manic, insane, hateful stuff he did with the Geto Boys, but that hateful stuff has merit too.


2. "The Message" by Grand Master Flash and the Furious Five Featuring DJ Melle Mel and Duke Bootee: I hear this one, and I just wonder who those people are "pissin' on the stairs." I mean, come on, maybe you don't have a pot to piss in, but do your business somewhere that isn't a safety hazard!


1. "In the Ghetto" by Elvis Presley: This one makes me laugh my ass off when I drive by the same dudes every morning with their burning trash can, mini grill, and tents. I want to play hookey one day, and join them with this playlist on repeat. Wonder what they cook? . . .

What Critter Would You Shtupp?

I was at a bar not too long ago, and somehow, I'm never sure exactly how, we got talking about what animal we would fornicate. We're talking you have to do it, like your family is in danger if you don't run over there and hump that rhino, your whole family is offed execution style. I'll now give you the results, protecting their anonymity, as no one wants to be known as a monkey fucker, or whatever the case may be.


1. 23-year-old Female: Horse. Ouch! Later she said that she meant she would "F" the horse, but no, there are no use of strap-ons. That doesn't count! I never got another answer.


2. 24-year-old Female: Octopus. She liked the idea of tentacles all over various parts of her a body; she likes a multitasker.





3. 35-year-old Male: Hippo. "Big, wide ass" he said, demonstrating the width of the hippo's hands with his massive hands.

4. 32-year-old Male: Dolphin. "They're always smiling, they're the only known animal to have sex for pleasure, and nailing a dolphin would be somehow . . . beautiful."

5. 27-year-old Male: Human. "A human being is an animal." Booooooo! That was cheap!

6. 25-year-old Male: Dolphin. He then sited the same random statistic the other guy said about the dolphin having sex for pleasure, despite not being there for that conversation. This excited the previous subject who then drunkenly blurted out, "We're breaking into Sea World and fucking dolphins!"

7. 23-year-old Male: Monkey. "They're the closest to humans." Is that really better? I think I'd rather have something furthest removed once I'm out of the realm of humans, as I've been with some at the brink of exiting that realm.


8. 26-year-old Female and Bartender: Cat. She did not have time to elaborate, but I guess she's a cat person. We elaborated for her, speculating that it may be good to have your cat declawed before attempting this, unless that element of danger gets you going.

What is the point of this exercise you may ask? Well, ask yourself, is there not a difference between a girl who wants to be titillated by the various extensions of the delicate octopus and the one who wants to be railed by a big, hulking horse? I'd say so.

How about you, Seven Readers? Which animal would you make love to, and why?

And remember, there's a blog below posted moments ago, so try to get by and comment on that one too (still posting two a day to get caught up). Thanks!

It's Almost Painless!

I was waiting to get my haircut in an extremely crabby state due to being three days deep going cold turkey off of caffeine, and I was listening to an annoying young lady talking to who I think was her mother. Much to my dismay, with my inability to tune her out, she said this:

"Yes, I'm going to the W Hotel on Lakeshore Drive. They are supposed to have the most painless Brazilian in Chicago."

K. Good to know.

The NBA Finals Finally Needs a Name

The Super Bowl!

The World Series!

These are really important sounding names, right? And then, the NBA Finals. How boring, right? They deserve a better name, especially since it's arguably the finale in which the best team truly wins, in that in baseball the team that happens to get hot at the end of the season usually pulls it out, and in football any team can win on any given Sunday (they need to play a best of three or something). And in hockey . . . who the F cares?

So, Seven Readers, what should they call it?

PS: There's another blog below where I need your input. I'm blogging two a day to get caught up to still make that 365 blogs in 365 days thing. Thanks!

November First

While at the bar watching the Bears win a meaningless game over the Browns, one of my buddies said that he loves the day after Halloween because it's the best day of the year for walk of shames. He saw a disheveled girl at ten in the morning trying to hail a cab dressed as a sexy, female Harry Potter. Priceless!

This is where you come in, Seven Readers: What should we call this day of walk of shames?