Wednesday, September 29, 2010

The Fourth or 5th Lyric Analysis. It's Bullshit That I Can't Come Up With More Topics

This time, it's to the tune of "I'd Really Love To See You Tonight" by England Dan and John Ford Coley. Are those wonderful names or what? I wonder if Dan was really from England? Either way, here's what the gal might have said in response to Dan and/or John Ford with the words by the guy being the actual lyrics to the song, and her responses being Dr. Ken's inspired dumb ass words. I'm just going with England Dan for the purpose of this, but maybe the two of them were trying to convince her to participate in some sort of a group thing. Who knows? In any event, here goes.

England Dan: Hello

Her: Oh. Hey. Christ, I never thought I would hear from you again. I actually kind of hoped I wouldn't because . . .

ED: Yeah, it's been a while

Her: Oh, Lord help me. So, what the hell do you, I mean, what have you been up to?

ED: Not much, how about you?

Her: Well, I've been . . . Why do you care? What in the hell do you want, anyway?

ED: I'm not sure why I called

Her: Well, I don't really have time for this, so . . .

I guess I really just wanted to talk to you
And I was thinkin' maybe later on
We could get together for a while

Her: Listen, England I'm not sure if that's such a good . . .

It's been such a long time
And I really do miss your smile

Her: No. I absolutely don't want to see you. At all.

I'm not talking about movin' in
And I don't want to change your life
But there's a warm wind blowin' the stars around
And I'd really love to see you tonight

Her: Whoah! Whoah! Of course you're not moving in. I don't even know why . . . Listen, I gotta go.

We could go walkin' through a windy park
Take a drive along the beach
Or stay at home and watch TV
You see it really doesn't matter much to me

Her: No. None of those things are an option. Not with you.

I'm not talking about movin' in
And I don't want to change your life
But there's a warm wind blowin' the stars around
And I'd really love to see you tonight

Her: Really? The same lines? Listen, how is it that you're going to change my life? You're changing my mood perhaps because I"m really pissed off and annoyed, but you really didn't make that much of an impact the first time you were in my life, so . . .

I won't ask for promises
So you don't have to lie
We've both played that game before
Say I love you then say goodbye

Her: I never said I loved you. Are you shitting me?

I'm not talking about movin' in
And I don't want to change your life
But there's a warm wind blowin' the stars around
And I'd really love to see you tonight

Her: Yeah, there you go again about the warm winds. Listen, I'm hanging up.

I'm not talking about movin' in
And I don't want to change your life
But there's a warm wind blowin' the stars around
And I'd really love to see you tonight

Her: Yeah. Great. Goodbye, British Dan.


Sunday, September 26, 2010

I Had One of the Best Nights of My LIfe . . .

. . . around 5 summers ago, and I just got thinking about it recently. It all began when a friend, who was also a roommate and star of numerous blog posts, and I went to the My Morning Jacket show at the Taste of Randolph Street right here in Chicago. This was before the band got more popular, so believe it or not, the show really wasn't that crowded. What was a little annoying was the yuppies there, and there were lots of them - no surprise given the neighborhood - had their backs to the band and were carrying on conversations. Looking around, I was one of the only guys dancing and getting into the music.

Well, regardless of the lackluster crowd, it was an amazing concert with the sun setting, making a beautiful backdrop behind the stage, and the Jacket was going all the way off - back when they all had long hair and did a lot of head banging. Roomy kept our beers full by sidestepping right to the front of the line, shooting one eyebrow up in the air like James Belushi, and smiling in the general direction of the people he was cutting off, and at 6'4" and nearly 300 pounds, nobody seemed to put up much of a fight.

Afterwords, he and I went to a house party that was in full swing by the time we got there, with the outdoor courtyard teaming with fun people in various stages of happy drunkenness. I remember commandeering the iPod and leading numerous sing-a-longs, mostly hair metal ballads, for some reason - Tesla's "Love Song" and Mr. Big's "The Next To Be With You" to name a few. Ladies all seem to love the latter for whatever reason, despite the fact that my interpretation has always been that the song is about some slut that half the band has nailed, and now the singer wants to have a go at her, but that's beside the point.

Later that night, one of the hosts of the party, a good looking female I had a thing for, was talking with me at length about I'm not sure what - but it was one of those conversations that seemed really important at the time. The pheromones were firing, eye contact was intense, and we started talking closer-and-closer, and I began to get a pretty good idea we would be kissing soon. It was one of those moments, and it was great.

The party started winding down, almost everyone had gone home, but she and I didn't even notice. I remember she was a big fan of Paul Simon, and we were spinning multiple songs by him, singing along to fun summery Simon classics like "Kodachrome" and "Me and Julio Down By the Schoolyard," just feeling good. For whatever reason, we went for a long drunken walk through the city in the middle of the night - not the safest of activities, but we made it home, each in one piece, and it was then that we got to know each other a little more. With most of our clothes off.

It turns out we had strong feelings for one another, but for various reasons, we just never seemed to work out as a couple. There was a while where we would meet up after a random text and make out, and this went on about once or twice a year for a few years, but then we just lost touch.

It wasn't the best concert I ever saw, the best party I have ever attended, and she wasn't quite the love of my life, I guess, but all the different things that went on that night just made me feel incredible at a time when I rarely felt very good. The next day, jumping in a cab on my way home, I remember still feeling terrific.

Anyone else have an awesome night they would like to share? I hope you have had a night where you felt as good as I did on that Chicago summer night. We all should have a few nights like that before we die, right?

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

What Wine Are You?

I was just talking to someone, and we were discussing what kind of wine we'd be. She said I was a Riesling because I'm kind of sweet, but I disagreed because that's a little too sweet for me - I have an edge too. I said she's champagne because she's bubbly, but not a shitty bottle of Andre' because she's better than that. However, she's not a bottle of Dom Perignon or Cristal because she's not rich (more like knee deep in student loans like me), so she's like a mid level Champagne.

Ultimately, I decided I'm a bottle of cheap chianti because I'm broke, and I like the wicker basket; They're cute.

What wine are you, Seven Readers?

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

I'm lying in bed here typing with tons of rice expanding in my belly. The problem about me cooking for myself is that I almost always finish everything. Today I put what didn't fit on my plate in a Tupperware and put it in the fridge, but then I was still hungry. So, I dumped some hot sauce in the Tupperware and worked it all down.

The thing is, I like cooking for myself. I like that there's no pressure for it to be any good. If it's shitty, oh well; I'm eating it anyway because I spent thirty minutes on it.

I'm definitely far from being a good cook. My dad can cook like a master chef, while I can't even cook like a Dungeon Master. But I don't care! I just like it to be easy, be not hungry anymore, clean it up, and get back to Dr. Ken time. I don't ever see myself slaving over something you have to wrap up, baste, flip it over, slap it up, flip it, rub it down. Oh, no . . .*

This post was kind of boring, so I'm now going to post a video of a big lady beating the holy snot out of a drunk guy. This woman beat the tar out of this fella for all the women out there who have experienced domestic violence. The beauty of it is that she knew she could take him because she kept daring him to fight back! And what's more pathetic is that he threw the first punch, when she was helping him up, no less! I really think she should get a UFC contract. Actually, there's one point where I thought she was going to curb the guy like in American History X. As always, turn off the music player to the right if you want to really hear the beating and the guy filming it comparing her dragging down the street to someone "walking the dog." Brilliant. Oooh, another good part is when the little girl comes up to show her that something was broke, and she says, "Please don't show me that at this point in time" and goes right back to walloping that fool! I absolutely love this clip.
*First person to get that reference gets a virtual high five - maybe even a pat on the back.

Monday, September 20, 2010

I forgot about the mentality of the single man. I was in a committed relationship for so long that I completely forgot all the nuances of daily bachelor life. I'm not going to say meeting someone consumes me, but it certainly affects my thought patterns and decisions.

When I plan my weekends, I don't necessarily have to meet someone, but I do have to put myself in a position where I could conceivably do so. There's also that pressure on you when you're out, where you know that if you don't approach the person you're attracted to in the room, you're going to regret it. Even if you strike out miserably, you gotta go for it; you gotta fish with a big net.

It can be a little stressful, but it can also be a lot of fun if you have a few good things going on. Right now, there are options, I'd say, but some options are complicated.

The trick is getting in the groove with this sort of lifestyle again so that I can settle in and get more work done in terms of my career and my writing like I know I can. I know I get a lot more done as a single man once the dust settles, and I see a lot of great work down the pike for Bachelor Ken.
I'm taking a sick day, and while searching for Halloween costume ideas, I came across this photo.

Is anyone else really disturbed by this?

Also, can anyone think of a good costume idea for your old friend, Dr. Ken?

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Getting My Grown Man On

I was working with a group of inner city Black kids last week, and they were all talking about going to clubs. One kid asked if I went to clubs, and I explained to him that I don't like going all the way downtown to a place where I have to wait in line, and then they won't let me in because I have jeans and Chucks on. I really don't like people telling me how to dress. He said to me, "Come on! You gotta get your grown man on."

I was called out by a kid half my age who was thrown out of his high school.

Well, today I got some really nice pants to wear to work in an attempt to get the grown man on in the twenty-ten.

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Tales from the Rickshaw Volume 5

I was giving a woman a long ride on the rickshaw last night, and we were talking about writing and theater for a majority of the ride, but at one point, I don't remember why, she was telling me about an ex of hers whom she dated for a few months. He was a chiropractor, seemed like a great guy, and nobody could figure out why she broke up with him. Turns out, in her words, "All he wanted to do was fuck me in the ass." Wowee Zowee!! She was too embarrassed to tell people the real reason he wasn't a keeper.

I said to her, "Maybe he was just trying to straighten your back out via his penis. I had a doctor that used that technique on me. My back didn't get better, but the pain in my butt made me forget all about the back pain."

Thursday, September 16, 2010

I wonder what is the best response is to a cashier when they ask how you're doing, and you're not feeling particularly great at the moment. Today I went with, "Eh. You know . . ."

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

I seriously have zero to write about, but I'm determined to write a ton lately, so I'm just going to see if anything comes to me . . .

My trainer at the gym is a big buff man that trains 5 to 10 of us at a time, and when we do dips, he likes to lean on your shoulder and talk to you about things like the Rain Forrest, just to put added weight on you. He's a lot of fun, and sometimes he turns the volume down to sing your name, "Dr. Ken! All the way down on those push ups" in time with the music. He still uses CD's which I respect, but today it started skipping right in the middle of "Just Got Paid." I fricking love that jam! Actually, no, that one played through, but it was a weird mix that I didn't like as much. It skipped right in the middle of that "Do You Think I'm a Nasty Girl" song that's playing at the titty bar in Beverly Hills Cop. You never hear that one anymore. Damn.*

This weekend I'm going to ride the rickshaw to take people around to and from the Dave Mathews Band concert at Wrigley Field for some extra cash, and then I'm going to try to put in work from home on Saturday for more extra cash, work on the play I'm writing for a bit, and then reward myself with many Leinenkugels at Chicago's Muskie Fest, one of the best street festivals in Chicago.

Aren't you glad you know what I'm doing this weekend and what my trainer at the gym is like? Are you writing this all down because this crap is important, somehow?

I'll leave you with this question so that you have something to comment about besides how lame I am: Speaking of the skipping CD's, do you have any tapes, records, or CD's that you still play, in the car perhaps, that still plays like a champ? I have had Slayer's "Seasons in the Abyss" in my car since high school, and it plays perfectly. I used to jam it on the way to college classes after all nighters, hitting those drum fills hard to stay awake. It only gets inserted** around seven or eight times a year, but it always comes through. You have anything like that?


*As always, if you want to bump the Youtubes, and you do if you wanna dance and get funky, be sure to hit pause on the music player to the right.
**That sounds dirty.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

I just did some yoga with HLP's wife, and instead of going to the gym next door as planned, she talked me into getting pizza and going back to HLP's place, where we found Steven Seagal's Marked for Death to be on the plasma.

Let me tell you a few awesome/terrible things about this film . . .

1. The bad guy in the film is a Jamaican drug lord named Screwface with scary eyes, and Steven goes after this guy, breaking like 20 Jamaican arms in the process.

2. Seagal is so chubby, moves so slow, walks around like he has a stick up his ass, and he somehow can beat up a room full of people in his movies.

3. The soundtrack is actually really good with some great reggae songs by Jimmy Cliff and Peter Tosh, along with some random old school rap songs by Young MC and Tone Loc.

4. So, after chopping the head off of the bad guy, Seagal and his cronies bring the head to show a bunch of other baddies, only to have Jamaican Drug Lord Guy show up with his head still attached, somehow. He has a twin brother! So, Seagal has a sword fight with him, cutting his forehead pretty good, pops his thumbs through his eyes, gives him a Wrestlemania back breaker, and throws him through a wall, down an elevator shaft, to be skewered on a pole like so much Jamaican jerk chicken. His one liner? "I hope they're not triplets," or something like that. Terrible!

5. One infamous mistake in the film involves a car chase through Chicago where there are palm trees along the street. Huh? I've lived here all my life, and rarely do I see those.

The bottom line is this: If I could kick as much butt as Seagal, I'd opt for pizza over the gym just about every night, and I'd rock my gut and pony tail whilst busting arms.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Getting To Know Dr. Ken. Getting To Know All About Dr. Ken.

I have no topic today, so I'm going to answer these questions, quickly, because I'm tired as hell. Here goes . . .

* What's your favorite horror movie?
Night of the Living Dead. It's still so entertaining, and so many movies have derived from that one low budget wonderful movie with most of the actors having no experience.

* Do you do dance crazy when no one is looking at you?
I dance crazy whether people are looking or not. I don't give a good God damn what people think about my dancing. If you're living life self-conscious, you're just not living life.

* Do you like to sing while you are taking a shower? What do sing in the shower if you do sing?
Hell yeah I sing in the shower. I air guitar and air drum in the shower too.

* What's your favorite color?
Blue, only because it's the color that looks the best on me because of my blue eyes.

* Do you think people should eat the fish they catch, or just let them go?
I think you might as well eat it. How would you like to have a hook in your mouth, be pulled under water or somewhere you couldn't breathe, and then thrown back. It's pretty traumatic, and I wouldn't want to go through that more than a couple times. Just go ahead and eat me.

* What do you like better hands or feet?
I like hands and feet a lot on girls. When I'm into a girl, I'm all over both of those - not in a sexual way, just a loving way.

* Do you like curly hair or straight?
Can I say wavy? I like wavy.

* What's your favorite drink?
Lately, Amstel Light.

* Where did you grow up?
A Western suburb of Chicago, Illinois. My folks still live there, and the sign says "A nice place to live" when you drive in. True.

* What do you do in your spare time?
I write, work out, play volleyball . . .

* Do you have any pets?
None, but I want a dog pretty bad.

* What type of music do you like?
Anything that moves me.

* What do you think you would be 20 years down the lane?
Retired, hopefully. Published, hopefully, and looking back on a pretty awesome life, hopefully.

* What sort of a life partner do you expect?
One who gets my sense of humor, enjoys my company, and has faith in me.

* Which is the place you'd love to visit?
Sweden and Norway to meet relatives that my parents and aunt met that I have not, and I hear that everyone is cool as shit out there.

* What's your worst/best memory of high school and why?
I felt invisible in high school, so I would say it was pretty much one collective shitty experience. What's sad is that I honestly couldn't tell you my favorite memory.

* If you knew today was your last day on Earth, how would you spend it and why?
I'd spend it with my family and closest friends, and I'd "write my words on the face of today."

* What is the most rewarding experience you have had and what made it so?
I guess I would say writing, directing, and producing a play that was well liked.

* Who or what inspires you and why?
I'm inspired by people who never give up, people who live life to the fullest, and people who remain positive and accomplish their goals. I'm also inspired by good music and good art in general.

Okay, it wasn't funny, but I'm not feeling funny right now - and I'm not really feeling all that introspective or even interesting at the moment. So, that's all I got today.

Thursday, September 09, 2010

The Horizon

The key to being single is to keep things on your horizon. You don't need to be steadily laid with a line forming around the block - people taking numbers like at the deli; although that would be good. No. All you need are a few things working for you on your fires at all times so that you don't want to off yourself. Maybe a couple opportunities are long shots, sure, but they're there. Some of them might be horrible ideas, sure, but you have the option of making that awful, awful decision if need be.

You can never have too many fires going because any one of them can fizzle out at any moment. Never, ever put all of your eggs in one basket when you become way too excited about one prospect. That's like going out for fondou and concentrating all on your beef cooking in the oil and forgetting about all the vegetables you have in that juice. No? Piss poor analogy? Probably.

Point being, keep that horizon going because when it's bleak, you'll start to get desperate, and that's when you will find yourself very much not laid. People smell the desperation on you. The person with that bountiful horizon is the one going out with the confidence that he/she needs, and that's when something great can happen.

Wednesday, September 08, 2010

Weird Is Beautiful

One of my favorite authors of all time is Chuck Klosterman, and I remember somewhere in one of his books he thanked his wife for letting him be weird. Because he's my boy, I totally knew what he meant.

The thing is, I am weird, and I love that I'm weird. To be normal is to be boring, or better yet, it is to be like everyone else; what people would expect you to be like. Now, I don't mean I'm full on crazy - I'm not wrapping myself in aluminum foil and yelling nonsense at pedestrians or anything. No, I just mean weird, and the worst thing in the world for a weird guy is to be totally not understood because then he's trying to be a normal, bastardized version of himself to suit those around him. I hate that watered down crap version of Dr. Ken.

On the other hand, the best thing in the world for a weird guy is to be completely understood, and then I can be that wonderfully goofy bastard that can just say messed up stuff that's actually kind of creative, if you're open to it. That Ken will leave a lasting impression on you at a party because he'll never bore with mundane crap; he'll entertain you. That's the Ken that I know and love, and that's the one I want to let loose upon the world because he's got a lot to say.

Tuesday, September 07, 2010


I have little to offer in the way of a post today, so how about the top 10 searches that led people to my blog this week, according to the statistics on Blogger?

10) keith stone commercial

9) hairy guys ass

8) best songs to hear in a bar

7) keith stone t shirt

6) my love my lady is the sea

5) try the veal

4) best songs to hear in bars

3) double stream sex

2) hairysex

1) hot girl doing the splits

Monday, September 06, 2010

I Had a Black Cabbage Patch Doll As a Kid . . .

. . . and his name was Eric. I specifically told my parents that I wanted a Black, bald, "premie" Cabbage Patch Doll, and they had to search over hell and high water to find it. I know you may find it odd tha I was a a boy who wanted a doll, regardless of ethnicity, but tons of boys in our class had them. I had a Caucasian one too. His name was Sherwin, of all things. He got dirty because his skin showed it; It was to Eric's benefit that he had that dark complexion.

I'm just proud that I grew up in such a liberal minded home that did not restrict toys for their kids based on gender roles or race. Thanks mom and dad, and thanks Eric.

P.S.: The one pictured is not Eric, but that's about what he looked like as far as I can remember.

Sunday, September 05, 2010

Big Business

I saw a friend last night who is the funniest guy I've ever known. He is a heavyset fellow with a thick Chicago accent, and anyone who meets him is laughing his/her ass off and waiting to hear what he will say next. I met him my freshman year of high school, and ever since he has been the most consistently funny person I have known, and I'm a pretty tough critic, being a fairly funny guy myself.

Here are some of his crowning achievements:

1. In the Earth Science class, we were handed out a worksheet with a heading of, "The Big Bang and the Day After." He whispered to me, "Hey, Ken. The big bang and the morning after." The teacher heard him and threw him out of the room.

2. When he got thrown out of class, he would make a giant blowfish face on the glass for everyone but the teacher to see.

3. We used to drive around together in his giant Buick listening to gangster rap, throwing McDonalds Playland balls at other moving cars, and tipping over portable toilets. This doesn't sound fun, unless you're Beavis or Butthead, but with this guy, it's a riot.

4. His nickname given to him by his work buddies is Big Business because he handles his damn business. When he hooks up with women of a heavy variety, he says they are "Business Class." He did so last night with one who was thick as a brick. God love him. Believe it or not, even if he is a heavy guy, the man is outstanding with the ladies. I had the post a couple blogs ago about needing a wingman in my newly single state, and this guy may be the guy. He works the room, fishes with a big net, and even if we don't have any success, we will always have fun together.

5. We had another teacher who Big Business used to drive nuts with his class clown antics, and one day when she asked where my book was, Business said, "He burned it." Without asking me if it was true, she called my dad to inform him that I had burned my Reading book. I get home, and my dad says, "So, you're burning books, huh?!"

6. During a bachelor party on a trolley, he pulled his pants down and pressed his butt cheeks up against the glass for a girl to see waiting at the bus stop. We all watched her as her glance slowly went towards that direction, and bam! She was horrified and looked away immediately. Hahahha! His brand of comedy sounds low brow, and sometimes it is, but he's actually highly intelligent and witty too.

7. His brother has struggled with drug addiction his whole life, and Business is basically raising his brother's two daughters, since his brother disappears for months at a time and steals stuff when he does come around. Those girls mean everything to Business. Okay, that wasn't an example of him being funny; just awesome.

There are a lot of qualities to a good friend, but one who can always keep you laughing is so important to me. Also, he's a guy who is there for you when you need him at the drop of a hat. Here's to you, Big Business. You're one of finest humans I'll ever know. I hoist a glass of your favorite drink, Vanilla Stoli and Diet Coke, in your general direction.

Saturday, September 04, 2010

We were hanging out back at a friend's place after a long night of nudey photo hunt and karaoke, and one female friend of ours showed us a special talent: She can queef (or vart if you prefer) on demand. She lied down on the floor, and you could hear her sucking the air into her hooha, and then expeling it immediately with a rather loud queef. She could do this at a rate of one a second for as long as she wants or until we got bored of it, which we didn't. One guy even stuck his head down there (she was fully clothed) and listened closely as she queefed directly into his face, and then he laughed like an idiot, which was making me laugh uncontrollably.

It's just the type of night I needed.

"Talk To Me, Goose . . ."

When I was in a relationship, around a week ago, I would always think that if I found myself single, I'd be screwed because all of my friends are married. Well, here I am, and I'm finding myself in a very wingman depleted market.

Now I look at dudes I know and think about how they would be as a potential Goose to my Maverick or maybe Maverick to my Goose depending on the chemistry between us. I play volleyball with a guy who I went to high school with who is good looking, funny, and he looks a little like me, so we could tell ladies that we are brothers and stuff, but he's so, so married. Darn!

I have a couple of other dudes to work with, but it's just disheartening to know that the most compatible wingman of all time for me was Heterosexual Life Partner (HLP), and I'll never do better than that one. We used to be out together, talking/dancing with a pair of girls, and one of us would lean in and say, "Which one do you like?" and the other one would always say, "Whatever. Either one." We never had any conflicts with that sort of stuff, and whether or not we found love/other things that night, we always kept each other laughing.

How about you, Seven Readers? Did you/do you have a Goose or a Maverick you want to tell us about?

Wednesday, September 01, 2010

My Doorway

First off, thanks to all of you for lending an ear and giving me all that encouragement. I'd like to announce that there will be no more talking about me being a sad bastard because I'm headed in a great direction. Thanks again.

So, there are two things right outside my front door that really piss me off: A fat evil cat and a really persistent spider.

My downstairs neighbors have an outdoor cat named Loki who for the most part just lays his fat ass on the porch all day. He is a really crabby sonofabitch, hissing at most everyone, but he grew to like me because I would just say, "Hey, big boy" as I walked in and out of the house, so then he was familiar with me. This wasn't necessarily a good thing because he then wanted to rub against my legs, but then when I try to leave, he tries to scratch me! He's an evil needy little fucker! Now I have to make sure I got my keys ready to quickly lock it and carry something long enough to keep him at bay. The other day he clawed me up really good, which is great because Loki no doubt rummages through garbage and kills Chicago rats all day with those claws. I swear to God I damn near picked him up and punted him across the street. When I told the neighbors about it, they weren't even that apologetic, and in fact, they were kind of laughing about it, saying he's like a fat kid with emotional problems. Yeah! He is. And he has dirty ass claws that stab me, and I could be telling the landlord about this, a-holes. But, I won't. I'll just keep getting those keys ready and keeping a newspaper handy to shoe the little F'r.

Then I have a spider in my doorway who keeps building an intricate web in the top left corner. Very often I walk through it, screaming as I pull the webs out of my hair. I've seen him before, but I don't kill him because I just feel that would be shitty of me since he's eating so many bugs for us. If he really wants that spot so bad after his web getting wrecked so many times, he must see it as a spot worth the risk, right? What's annoying is that it only happens to me since 3 of my roommates are too short and the one who's an inch taller than me is never home.

These two culprits are lucky I'm a damn pacifist. Anyone else have any pesky critters?