3 Quick Items . . .

1. Being a Hater: I was out to dinner with my sister and her kids, and would you believe my oldest nephew is going off to college in the fall? I can hardly believe it myself. My sister was saying how he hates random things that no one else hates, like Matt Damon, and he is just like me in that respect. I got to thinking that of all the things I would like to pass onto him or have him emulate, being a hater is not one of them. Then it occurred to me that if I wouldn't want anyone I care about to be a hater, then just why in the heck do I think and act in such a way? It was an eye opener for sure.

2. Ikea: But can I just hate on one more thing? Ikea. Boy do I hate going to that place. It's enormous, and you have to walk through the whole place to find what you want. Then sometimes you're looking for the name of something, and it's in Swedish, you're looking for something called Ummergolongousmnaou with all those little Motley Crue dots over the vowels, and all those crazy long words look the same. Then you make a note of the bin location to find them in the giant warehouse by the check out area. Why don't they just have little computers where you can search for the stuff, put them all in your electronic cart, and then print out a list of all the stuff you want with the corresponding warehouse locations? Well, guess those greedy Swedes want me to find other stuff to buy. Well, I won't! Well, maybe a meatball and a Mountain Dew. But that's it. Then I have to go home and snap together their shoddy particle board crap furniture, and they always give me extra pieces!* God, do I ever hate Ikea!

3. The Demise of the Walk of Shame: Remember when you hooked up with someone, woke up the next morning in a strange house with a strange person, and you had no idea what part of town you were in? So you walked out the door, tried to get your bearings, you looked around for what train or bus to take or where you might catch a cab. Oh, the excitement! But even better, oh the laughs we had spotting someone who clearly had their clothes on from the night before, her high heels and mini skirt at 10AM on a Sunday, and the look of embarrassment on her face. That was fun, right? Well, now with Uber, she orders up her ride from the dude's apartment and steps right into a car. We only have that brief 15 second window of the house door to the car door to spot a modern day walk of shame, and I saw one last Saturday before my buddy and I started our jog. Funny, because we both knew it was a walk of shame and realized we hadn't seen one in a while, and Uber is why.

That's all I got today, friends. Have yourselves a tremendous weekend, and try not to hate, even when it's funny.

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*That was a joke. I know there are only extra pieces because I'm bad at figuring things out, even with instructions.

I'll Take Great Walks of Shame (WOS) In History for 500, Alex

Getting up at 8:30 to go to my weekend job every Saturday and Sunday has been awful for my social life, and working 7 days a week is grueling, but there are a couple of perks. For one, working in the sun is keeping me tan, which is nice, but my scalp is burning, which is not as good. Another perk is the exercise I get on my bike ride to and from work, which is about a 40 minute ride that I have to make a 30 minute ride, since I’m always running late. How am I going to stay in shape when I no longer have to pedal fast out of necessity? On my ride home I pedal like Jesus (Hey Zeus), see previous post. If I no longer bike to a job, I’ll have to steal stuff and make a get-away on my cheap, Target bike; Anything to get the chains turning. Another added bonus about my ride to work is that being that it’s 9:00 am on Saturdays and Sundays, and it’s right through the Lincoln Park area, we are talking PEAK walk of shame time.

I’m sure you all know what a walk of shame is, but I’ll provide a brief definition for those of you who don’t: A walk home after an unexpected stay at the home of someone of the opposite sex. As I ride past a girl with high heels, f-me-pants, make up smeared, clothes disheveled, and her hair all messed up, I’m thinking to myself, ‘sure, you just woke up after a night of drinking, rolled out of bed in the same clothes, clipped a couple of coupons and now you’re merely headed to the grocery store . . . Either that or you had one too many cosmopolitans, which are like breasts because one’s not enough and three’s too many, went home with a 22-year-old DePaul student with a striped shirt, and now you have to figure out where the hell you are at and if there is a Blue Line train nearby.

As some of you know, I live with four guys. Because of this, sometimes I’ll catch a quality walk of shame before I even leave the apartment. Sometimes I’ll be getting ready to leave for work and see a roomy get not one but TWO cups full of water, at which time I’ll say to him, “Johnny, I didn’t know you were ‘entertaining’ a guest.” One time I was watching TV and one of my roommate’s hook-ups barfed all over the stairs, and then he cleaned it up, which I thought was nice because there’s nothing worse than cleaning up your own vomit in front of a random hook-up’s roommate.

Anyone have any good walk of shame (WOS) stories they would like to share? Barf-on-the-stairs-girl, if you’re out there, I probably already shared your best WOS story, but if you got a better one, we’re all ears.