Sunday, October 29, 2006

Halloween Was Good, Except for THE MAN Trying to Keep the GREEN Man Down

Last night a guy at the door of this SHITTY bar in Chicago called Mix was giving me a hard time about my ID, like it's not me or like I'm not 21. I was dressed as Frankenstein with a green cap with scars and black hair, and my face was painted green. I suppose I looked a little different than I did in the picture, considering I WAS DRESSED AS FUCKING FRANKENSTEIN, but this guy was a real cock about it. I'm 29, so maybe green paint hides my age. Shit, why is it not socially acceptable to walk around in green paint? I'd mix it up, like The Hulk on Tuesdays, the Jolly Green Giant on Thursday's, Gazoo on Fridays . . . Anyway, this guy was like a frustrated cop, shining his big, stupid flash light in my face. I'm all, "Ask me anything you want about my ID. I'm me. I've been me all my life." Of all questions, he asks me, "Where did you get your driver's license." Now, I've gotten many a license at many a location, so I'm like, "I don't know. Is it in Naperville or does it say Chicago?" He's all, "It ain't Naperville." So I'm all, "Well, does it say the specific location in Chicago? I guess I'll say on Elston?" Thankfully, or maybe not thankfully, since the bar sucks, he got busy with something else and just let me in. So, I paid my 10 dollar cover to get into a shitty bar, and yes, this bar is shitty, and I got harassed by flipping T.J. Hooker with an attitude.

I'm going in there another night covered in green paint and with every aspect of my ID MEMORIZED, right down to the quality of lamination. Just when I pass his battery of questions, I'm going to say, "Fuck you and your bar!" Then I'll say a few phrases from the green man I will be dressed as on the evening in question. Let's see if you can guess which one:

"Yo ho ho! My green dick wouldn't fuck the skanky yo ho ho's in this joint for all the frozen peas in Jewel!"

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Are You a Good Son or Daughter?

I'm going to go to my parents' place after work today. I have to make a scheduled time to do it, or I will get lazy and go home, so I booked a Wednesday. It's not a bad deal, because they cook me the meal of my choice, and my dad is an awesome cook. He usually loads me up with other leftovers, so I have free meals for a while, and my roomies are loving that too, especially when there are cookies.

It's always good to see them, and to see the dog, but it's just in a suburb the opposite opposite way home on the interstate, away from Chicago. After work I'm just so drained. Like today for instance, staying late with the most defiant, manipulating, work-avoiding student of all time. I'm basically staying here until he's done, and he's pulling every trick in the book on me. So, I'll have 5 days like these, then I say I'll go on the weekends, but then I work Saturdays, and Sundays I wake up late, turn on the Bears game, and before I know it, it's too late.

Give me some input here, seven readers. I'm just trying to figure out if I'm a lousy son or not.

How often do you all see your parents?
Do they live near by?
How often do you call? Do you call when you have something specific to tell or ask them, or do you ever call just to chat?
Do you have a specific activity, like weekly, that you always do with them?
How about this kicker: Do you exchange, "I love you's" at the end of the conversation?

Thanks in advance for the input. Hey, it doesn't always have to be funny. We can delve into a little introspection and learn a little about ourselves too . . .

-The Gancer

Monday, October 16, 2006

Nude Field Goal Kicking???!?!?!

I didn't think my night could get any better after, to quote a friend, "the best worst game ever or worst best game ever," but then I heard God speak to me on the radio. First the game. The Chicago Bears turned the ball over 6 times, we were down 20 at half, and we scored ZERO offensive touchdowns. I am taking full credit for this victory, because I tried everything to shake up this Bear offense. I changed chairs, changed lighting, and put on a head band for the 2nd half. You know what did it though? I turned the television off. After the 6th turnover, down 13, and with hardly any time left on the clock, I was disgusted and went off to bed. I won the game with that move, and frankly I'm really pissed that Brian Urlacher didn't thank me in his press conference.

Now back to the subject at hand. As I'm brushing my teeth I hear an advertisement on the radio for The Admiral Theatre, a local Chicago strip joint, and I could have sworn I heard Nude Field Goal Kicking. But I couldn't have heard that because that is simply too funny and brilliant. If something that awesome existed then we wouldn't have any problems with Korea and nuclear weapons. George and that guy with the big glasses would have a beer, watch a few greased up nude girls fall down trying to kick a ball, have a few laughs, and then immediately both disarm.

So, I did a little google search to see if I heard what I thought I heard. I found nothing on The Admiral website mentioning any football related nakedness, but I didn't give up there. I actually called them up and spoke to a representative. Here was the conversation.

Me: I just heard an advertisement on the radio, and did they say nude field goal kicking?
Nudey Bar Receptionist: Yes. Every Monday night after the game.
Me: So, we're talking 3 nude girls? One snapping, one holding, and one kicking a field goal?
NBR: Yeah, I guess. Every Monday.
Me: I will see you on Monday.

A week from today The Gancer may be engaging in some investigative reporting, and I just might walk on as a long snapper . . .*

*For my Austrailian readers, a long snapper is the guy who hikes the football between his legs a long distance. Typically, that is all he does, unlike the center, who hikes the ball and blocks every other down. The long snapper hikes the ball and gets mauled over by marauding opponents who are trying to block punts.

Sunday, October 15, 2006

"I'm EXPRESSING with my full capabilities"

I recently noticed that I use a lot of expressions that I've gathered up over the years. I've been told I talk like an old man sometimes, which to me is a compliment. I like to think I'm an old soul.

So, without further delay, here are my top ten favorite expressions:

1. The next time someone is eating the shit out of something in mass quantities say "You're eating like you have 16 assholes!" - The implication is that to poo out that much food one would need numerous out holes.

2. "That chick is crazier than a shit-house rat!" - A guy in Stand By Me says that about the Corey Feldman character's dad. If any of you watched The Surreal Life you
will know that Corey himself is bat shit crazy. <---- That's another good one.

3. When you see someone shivering like crazy in the cold say, "you are shaking like a dog shitting peach pits." This one I got from my mom, of all people. Picturing a German Shepherd working out a peach pit cracks my shit up.

4. "I swear that guy is dumber than a bag of hammers." Love that one. It's just so wonderfully random.

5. If you find yourself at a house party and someone hands you a warm, crappy beer, tell them, "this beer tastes like a tub of warm piss that somebody farted in!"

6. When someone is being indecisive or when someone is screwing around say, "Would you quit fuck-assin' around!" I got that from a fiend of mine from Indiana, and with his accent it's really damn funny.

7. If you are lucky enough to see a young lady with big hooters in your new future, say "The last time I saw jugs like that a couple of hill-billies were blowin' in 'um."

8. "It's colder than a well digger's ass in here!" I've also heard hotter than a well digger's ass, so the temperature is undetermined, but we know it's extreme in which ever direction it may be.

9. "I'm outy like a fat girl in dodge ball." That one is kind of mean, but you gotta believe 9 out of 10 chubby, female students are likely to be sitting on the side within a few seconds of that first whistle.

10. The next time you let out a particularly loud and retched burp, say "Pardon me. I meant to puke."

I feel I should include one of my least favorite expressions: "I want to fuck the shit out of her!" That is a really sleazy phrase and really disgusting when you think about it literally. For some reason I just always picture going to town on some girl and doody squirting out of everywhere, even her ears.

Alright, seven readers, let's hear some of your favorite/least favorite expressions!

Monday, October 09, 2006

Vicar in a Tutu

So I'm having pizza at Pizzeria Due in Chicago, unbelievably good pizza by the way, and my eight-year-old nephew turns to me and says, "Uncle Gancer, you dressed like a girl when you were little." WOW! Where in the hell did that come from? Well, I'll tell you.

I have just one sibling, my older sister. There were days when I was really young, before I had started school and met many friends, and I was attention starved. Just to give you an idea, here's another funny incident before my foray into cross-dressing started. My sister had a friend over, and my dad demanded that they play with me. So he comes back an hour or so later and I'm in my room and my sister and her friend are in her room. My dad is all pissed and says to her, "I thought I said you had to play with him!" She responds, "We are. We're playing house and he's the next-door-neighbor." I guess I was just chilling in my "house," praying to God my neighbors needed to borrow some sugar at some point, or maybe I was playing the part of Larry and would later try to convince them to go to the Regal Beagle. This sad tale shows you a few things.

1. I would do just about anything if it meant my sister was paying attention to me
2. I was easily tricked

So, one day she convinces me to play dress-up with her. The next thing I know I have make-up on, my hair done up, a tutu around my waist, and I'm spinning around like the gayest, little boy ever to dive into Swan Lake.

Well, my sadistic parents must have seen this as a good opportunity to take photos, probably for future black mailing purposes, and those very photos must have been the ones my nephew saw. It's kind of a sad day when your eight-year-old nephew is busting on you . . .

Sunday, October 01, 2006

Former Roomy Wow's Me With Hook-Up

It had been a couple of months since I had been to the Liar's Club (my favorite Chicago bar), and the minute I set foot in the joint I felt like my chi was centered and my cholesterol was somehow lowered.

My good friend, HLP (Heterosexual Life Partner) had spent the entire day at a Cubs game with his friend's girlfriend and her friend. He had made the mistake of mentioning that he thought the friend was cute once, and ever since this couple has been forcing this girl on him like they are desperately trying to breed a couple Siberian Huskies for the Iditarod. I'm sure you know a couple yourself who seems to think all is not right with the world until everyone is paired off like them, so that they have lots of couples to get together with and play Pictionary, or do whatever it is sets of couples do these days. Although he's not into her too much, Friend of Girlfriend is very into HLP, so she was coming onto him all day. This will play a factor later . . .

So I'm watching HLP hitting it off with a random girl at the bar, but there were two major road blocks.

1) She had a friend with her. No problem right? He is with a great friend (The Gancer) who could run interference for him. However, she was a HEAVY friend. I have jumped on many grenades for buddies, but tonight was my first night in Liar's Club in two months, so running interfence on this gal would have prevented me from fully enjoying the experience. His prayers were answered when I noticed Heavy Friend was leaving! So he's good right? Wrong. Enter road block 2.

2) Just then Friend of Girlfriend made a final play to win Roomy's heart. She was knowingly, outright, full-on C-blocking, but I guess she figured she had to go for broke.

Long story short, Friend of Girlfriend finally threw in the towel, he made out with the random, and got her number. I got a call from him this morning and he asked me if I caught her name. Problem. I came up with a solution to this dilmea, which I happen to think is brilliant. What he has to do is call her on a work day at a time that she is almost certainly working, like at 10:00 AM. That's his best chance to catch the voice mail, where she will almost certainly give her name. If she picks up, well, then I guess he just says, "Hey, you!" or "Hey, pretty." or "Hey, homegirl." or "Hey, Mulva . . ."