Caution: Swim At Your Own Risk

Well, another blog about a dream, but I'll make it brief and hopefully funny.  In last night's dream, my girlfriend and I had this fabulous house up in the hills somewhere, overlooking the ocean.  The pool out back was great because it had a spectacular view behind it, however, swimming in the pool were around four giant rats like the one in The Princess Bride, all no less than the size of a cocker spaniel, and one 10-foot-long albino alligator.  The GF was walking past the pool on her way back into the house, and the 'bino alligator took a snap at her ankle, narrowly missing her.  Why none of these critters ever got out of the pool, I don't know.  They just circled around in a frenzy, biting one another.

"Come on in!  The water's warm!"

In the dream I actually said this, and keep in mind that it's a small pool where you could see all the way to the bottom and there are extremely dangerous animals that are very easy to spot in there:

"We really need to remind guests not to go into the pool."

The GF and I came home drunk on Friday night, and we both wanted to watch a movie.  She popped in "Aladdin," which wouldn't have been my vote, but I'm glad I watched it again because it's still funny, the songs are good, and overall it just holds up well.  Robin Williams could probably have done the performance with 10 less impressions of celebrities that have nothing to do with anything, but beyond that, it's a good time.  The two of us actually sang all the songs loudly, so sorry neighbors.  We actually went into an impromptu a capella "Little Mermaid" song quite loudly, so I'm even more sorry about that.  But yeah, we nailed it.

Also, I have a confession: Back in high school, I was insanely jealous of Aladdin.  Why, you may ask?

Great minds dress alike.

1. He Has a Pet Monkey.  I have always wanted a pet monkey.  Yes, I know that they don't usually make good pets, and sometimes they rip your arm out of its socket or eat all the flesh off of your face, but they're just so darned cute.  Mine would for sure wear the little outfit like Abu, and he would definitely be perched up on my shoulder all the time, turning back flips every now and again, maybe right when I get off a good one-liner, just before I make a dramatic exit . . .



2. He Has a Hot, Exotic-looking Girlfriend With a Perfect (If Not Impossible) Body, and Giant Pretty Eyes.  And she's rich and doesn't dig rich guys.  Back in high school when I was watching this movie, she didn't really need to be any of these things.  Simply being not animated, having a pulse, and willing to sleep with a dork like me would have worked out great.

I don't remember her wearing this

3. The Son of a Bitch Has His Own Flying Carpet.*  Whenever I'm flying through my own powers in a dream, it's the coolest thing ever, and there is this feeling of complete control.  I would say I have had this dream around three times, and it's always incredible.  I'm pissed when I wake up because I know the dream is over and I can't really fly.  The ability to fly would be outstanding.  I could bypass a traffic jam, and then just wrap the carpet around my neck like a scarf and head into my business meting (or more likely the bar).  That or I would stuff it in a brief case so that I look important.  Any way you slice it, I want one of those things.

Okay.  I'm still jealous of that punk.  That street rat . . .

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How about you, readers?  You ever get jealous of a cartoon?  Roger Rabbit also comes to mind.  I was always funny as a kid but couldn't seem to land the giant chested songstress type . . . 

*You will notice that having the magic lamp is not on the list.  I have just seen too many problems with the whole wish thing in all the movies.  He can keep it.  

Sporty Texts. The Only Way To Go These Days

Around the time I started this blog, my best friends and I were out three nights a week doing three things:

1. Boozing

2. Trying to meet women

3. Doing stupid stuff

Even if we usually only accomplished numbers one and three on the list, those were some of the best days of my life and they were the best friends I'll ever have.

Those particular friends have since: 

1. Got married

2. Had kids

3. Moved to the suburbs

I have done zero of those things, which has caused us to not see each other nearly as much, but we still talk just about every day through text messages, usually about sports.  Sometimes a Chicago Bears game will be going on and the four of us will exchange 50 texts, which is pretty much the text rate of most middle school girls in America.  

These conversations are important because with them having babies and being in the burbs and all, it's not like they're out at the bar with me every weekend - so this my only means of staying in touch and remembering how funny these guys are and why they're my best friends.

For example:

James Douglas Morrison knew I was watching the Bulls game on tape when I got home from work, so he said:

JDM: Watch out for a giant boob chick in a Bulls jersey in the crowd who is undoubtably a stripper.  She's right after the lady who looks like the Kool Aid Man and just before the creepy Robert Englund guy with his arm around a kid.  

Now, without JDM, I would have fast forwarded through those crowd shots.  With him, I laughed my ass off at his dead on descriptions of these weirdos, and it's like we were watching the game together.  

How the hell did people stay in touch before text?  Christmas cards?  Phone calls?  Yuck.  I don't want to even think about it.  This is the only way to be friends with anyone.  I'm convinced.

Anyone have people they text with more than anyone else and you make each other laugh out loud all the time?

Old Friends

Steve parked his car on Chicago's northwest side and went into a neighborhood coffee shop with only one customer inside.  He greeted his friend, Roman, the lone customer who has many ties to the Polish mob, and the two sat at a table by the window to discuss the business at hand.

Steve: I appreciate you meeting me at short notice.  I know it's been a long time, but I remember when we worked together way back when, you said you knew a lot of . . . people who could . . . get things done.  

Roman: Oh yes.  (he replied in a thick Polish accent as he sipped from his espresso).  I can get a boot off of your car in less than two minutes.  I can get you a new identity in a couple days time.  And Mr. Roman could get you a very good-looking and convincing transsexual.  

Steve: Yeah, those three I don't need right now, especially that last one, but (looks around the empty room), illegal stuff is kind of the way I need to go with this one.  

Roman: No problem.  Anything for an old friend.  Anything within reason, that is.    

Steve: Well, here it is: I know a kid who got molested, and I just worry that with the way the investigation is going . . . The kid changed his story, and he didn't come forward for a long time, so there really isn't a lot of physical evidence.  And this guy might walk.

Roman: Oh no.  He won't walk.  (now angry) We can have both this guy's legs broken in no time.  I can do this one myself if you want.  Would be my pleasure.  I hate the perverts.  

Steve: No, by "walk," I mean that he might not do any jail time.  

Roman: I see.  And you want to make this guy dead, is that it?  

Steve: No.  Just that he doesn't get away scot-free.  What are you thinking?

Roman: (Softly whispering) What do you say we have this man raped real good.  

Steve: Oh God, no!  . . . Wait, you can do  that?

Roman: No, not me, but I have people raped all the time.  Well, not all the time, but I can get this done for you.  Yes.  No problem.   

Steve: Maybe I don't want to know this, but how do you know rapists, and how can you work with people like that, if you don't mind me asking?

Roman: You must understand, I know a lot of men who have done time, and for them raping isn't as big of a deal as it is to you and I.  And what we do in a case like this is simply tell our rapist that this man, this pervert, we simply tell Ulises that he raped a Latin Kings' son, and that's pretty standard practice amongst the Kings to have a man like that raped.

Steve: Whoah.  Stop right there.  I don't want to know anybody's names.  Hell, I'm not even sure I can go through with this.  

Roman: Sure you can.  This pervert will have the raping of a lifetime (now angry.  but a long pause).  Then again, he might be into rape.  You think?

Steve: I doubt it.  

Roman: Yes, but you never know with these pervert types.  So maybe we work in a little beating and torture into the mix, what do you think?

Steve: Okay, so if I'm understanding you fully, just in case the rape is somewhat pleasurable for him, you throw in a little torture?  Like what?

Roman: Well, I would let Ulis- (Stops himself) or whoever would be doing the rape, use his own discretion to make it particularly torturous and painful, like maybe cram a chair leg into his ass (demonstrates with a nearby chair, stabbing the leg into the air) or whatever's handy, you know (calmly sits back down and takes another sip of espresso).

Steve: (starts to get up) Jeez, that could kill the guy, couldn't it?  Like, he could bleed to death if he were stabbed right with a chair like that.  Okay, yeah, I really can't go through with this.  I'll just trust that the authorities will reach the right verdict and then he will get a raping in prison that wasn't authorized by you or I, or Ulises, who I hope I never meet by the way.  Can we just forget I ever came in here?

Roman: Sure.  It's your choice.  But stay a while.  We should catch up.  Talk about stuff that isn't illegal.  Roman doesn't only do illegal stuff.  For instance, these cuff links, I made them (Roman rolls up the left sleeve of his sport coat to reveal a dragon fly cuff link).  You see?  Dragon fly.  

Steve: That's no bad. (Steve puts his head in his hands and takes some deep breaths).

Roman: Hey.  What's wrong?  (puts his hand on Steve's arm) Don't worry about it, Steve.  The revenge and that sort of thing is not for everyone, after all.  You're a good guy.  Finish your coffee.  

Steve and Roman enjoyed another half hour of conversation free of any talk of illegal activities, and no contract of any kind was made - just old friends catching up.  And Ulises was never contacted as a result of their meeting.  

I was watching the Chicago Bulls game the other night and having a few IPA's, and longtime play-by-play man, Marv Albert, was saying how someone was trying to live down some bad decisions he made.  This prompted me to yell at the television, "Oh, shut up, Marv!  You were wearing crotchless panties, bit a woman's ass, reportedly forced anal upon a woman, and your toupee fell off.  We haven't forgotten that."

"Panties!  Yes!"

And it's true.  That's what is tough about being a celebrity.  If I paraded around in some crotchless panties, which no man looks good in (even me), I could still pack up and leave town and no one would know I dangled my junk out of a black lacy thong (not that I have a pair picked out).  We all have things we like to do in the sack, but we will never forget what Marv is into because we see him on TV every few nights describing slam dunks to us, and as hard as we try not to, we imagine that under the table he is still wearing those unsightly undergarments.

How about you, readers?  Who are some celebrities who have done something you'll never be able to forget when you see them?