"Where's the Next Block?"

I came across some $20 tickets to see Kevin Nealon at a cool venue in Chicago, so Mrs. Noisewater and I couldn't pass that up last Sunday evening. I love thast late 1980's cast of SNL, and Kevin is in my all time top 5 along with Phil Hartman (also from that era), Dan Akroyd, and 2 other cast members at four and five. I guess what I like about those three is that they're team players and terrific actors. They let everyone get their laughs and don't take over a scene, but by fitting into a sketch so seamlessly with their character, they subtly steal the scene to a careful observer. One other thing Kevin never did is break character by intentionally cracking up laughing and breaking the fourth wall. And while Nealon remained very aloof and silly with his topics and avoiding taking an actual stance or getting political in any way through out his set, he did point out that he never broke character because he was a professional. I thought that was awesome that he came out and said that because Jimmy Fallon and Horatio Sans giggling through a sketch like a couple of nit wits all the time just really pissed me off. 

Just watch him in the infamous Chip and Dales sketch. Nealon keeps a straight face while he has to act like it was a tough decision to choose between him and the chiseled Patrick Swayze character. And you know what's really sad? He pointed out that everyone in that sketch is now dead except for him and Mike Myers. Swayze, Hooks, Farley, and Hartman all died tragically and prematurely. 

So that about covers why Kevin is funny. What I'm more here to tell you about today is the drunk that sat next to us. Remember, this is a Sunday evening and a quiet winery spot, and right when we're wondering who we will be sharing our table with, an inebriated 20-something fella stumbles his way in with his date who didn't appear drunk at all. Mrs. Noisewater and I are sitting at one end of the table for four, and Drunk Guy says he can't believe they sat us like that and suggests that we sit across from our dates. I thought this was odd, but what the hell. Maybe he was onto something, right? So we made the switch. 

Drunk Guy was telling us all the spots in the city that he likes to see comedians, which I thought was strange because he talked through all the comedy. When I gradually phased him out when he tried to talk to me, he moved onto the table next to him. We thought maybe he knew those people, but he actually just met them in the lobby and thought he would continue to annoy them during show time for the sake of continuity. Drunk Guy also got up to pee a number of times, which I can speak from experience can be the case when you drink a lot, and by his third or fourth trip he was growing into full blown shit-canned drunk status, bumping into everyone on his way through the aisles. 

Late into Nealon's set, Drunk Guy leaned in to apologize to me, and he asked that I let his date know that that he was just fine and didn't annoy me too badly. This seemed like something I would have a hard time convincing anyone, considering he annoyed just about everyone within 30 feet of him, so one would assume that anyone sharing a table with him would be irate with his behavior (especially considering that some may be assuming that we knew the guy). Well, I never got the chance to smooth things over with his date because she had enough of him and left him there. When he attempted to go chase after her, security grabbed him and escorted him out. The management offered us a free round of drinks the next time we came out (because unlike Drunk Guy, we weren't on a Sunday Funday mission quite on his level by that point of the evening). 

Then while we're in the lobby calling up our Uber, we see Drunk Guy trying to get back into the venue and get thrown out again! He starts to light up a cigarette, and the bouncer says, "Get outa' here! Go smoke on the next block!" And this is when I knew Drunk Guy was completely obliterated because his response made no sense at all. He said, "Where's the next block?" I tried to help him out because in his drunk mind I had been his biggest supporter that night. I advised him, "The next block is the next block that way. Or that way. Either way, you really have to get out of here fast." 

Sleep Peeing or Pee Walking?

Last night a friend was telling me that she had an old friend stay over for a weekend, and after a night of hard drinking, this friend did some "sleep peeing" in a couple spots in the apartment.  My friend said she had no idea it happened until a day or two later when she smelled pee and first discovered that her friend had opened up the oven door and peed all over it.  

Sniffing for more pee, her nose led her to her entertainment center where her friend had peed all over the place, ruining the DVD player.  

Now, those two places are nothing like toilets.  The oven door lowers down, whereas a toilet seat lifts up.  And then the entertainment center, did she eject the little slide and pee right into the DVD slot because that is nothing at all like a toilet.  

This leads me to believe that this was an intentional pee pee attack!

"Dang!  Almost made it to the oven."

What do you all think?  Anyone have any "pee walking" stories?  Also, which do you think is a better term, sleep peeing or pee walking, and why?

The windows are not so good in my ancient Lincoln Park apartment, and sometimes I can hear every word people say when they are drunk and loud in the alley outside my bedroom.  My ladyfriend, LSD, is in town this weekend, and for whatever reason I decided to talk back to these idiots late last night.  The guy was in the alley on his phone, telling his friend, "I just hate electronic music."  So I opened the window and said, "What's wrong with electronic music?"  The guy told the person on the phone, "Someone just said what's wrong with electronic music?"  He didn't at all get the point that I was trying to tell him to shut the hell up and let me sleep.  I guess he just thought I was coming to the defense of electronic music.   He doesn't know me too well.  LSD and I had a good laugh at this exchange and were still laughing when we got up this morning; and stayed in bed laughing for as long as we could.

Lan's Old Town

I went to Lan's Old Town for the first time on Friday night.  It is a bring your own alcohol Chinese restaurant and karaoke bar in Chicago that is famous for its' drunken owner and host, Jimmy Ma.  My good friend Choo Choo Train is a regular there, and he recommended we bring Jimmy a bottle of Jack. Jimmy was out front having a cigarette when we arrived, and he was already plastered.  He was pleased to see that we brought him a bottle, and he proceeded to crack the seal, take a swig out of it, got me in a head lock even though I have never met him, and then put his cigarette out.  With his tongue!!!

This is actually a picture of Jimmy!

 The customers all interact with one another, have a seat at each others tables to introduce themselves and share their booze with you.  There were tons of good looking girls in there that night, but it still wasn't enough for Jimmy's taste, and he kept asking us in his thick Chinese accent, "You going to bring some pussy in here, or what?"  Jimmy pretty much lives the dream and does whatever the hell he wants and people love him for it.  For example, he grabbed a beautiful blond girl who looked to be 30 years younger than him and just started making out with her, and she just thought it was hilarious.  Only Jimmy could pull off a move like that.

I know I will be back very, very soon, and I recommend you, my seven readers, give it a try too.  I do not, however, recommend putting cigarettes out on your tongue.

I was driving home late tonight from an Oscar party at The Uncle's place, and an odd fellow was crossing the street in front of me.  It is a freezing Chicago night, yet he had on no coat, just a white turtleneck.  He was listening to headphones and looked very, very drunk.  Then he started stretching his arms out and looked as if he was psyching himself up for something big.  Sure enough, he started skipping.  Next he turned a couple of cartwheels!  This guy was on something really good.  By the looks of it, his Oscar party was better than mine. 

That Was One Drunk Sea Captain

Friday night I met Gung Ho out at the dueling pianos bar because I was anxious to meet his new 24-year-old girlfriend (we're slightly older).  If you haven't been to a good dueling pianos bar, you should give it a try.  They always have a couple of very witty and talented guys cracking jokes and taking requests, enough to give a man a serious case of pianist envy (did I make that up?  Probably not).  And just as a raucous night was starting to peter out, in saunters a pair of 30-something gay men, one in a ship captain's hat and both very drunk.  They were just sitting at their table, not talking to one another, looking like they were trying to take some deep breaths to avoid throwing up.  This is when I decided to write up a request saying: Can you play "Love Will Keep Us Together" by Captain & Tennille for those two boys at the back table?  That is when the evening kicked right back into high gear.


(Here is a video I found on Youtube of a night at Sluggers with people dancing with the pole on top of the piano.  I guess in this modern age you should be sure you won't be filmed if you decide to give pole dancing a whirl . . .)

The piano player with the Blackhawks jersey laughed his ass off at this notion, asked for the Captain's hat while he played that number, and launched into the song.  This was the Captain's cue, with or without the hat he brought, to dance around the stripper pole on top of the piano, drunkenly.  He then whipped his shirt off to reveal a pretty awful body and a plumber crack sticking out the back of his jeans.  It was looking like he was going to barf from all that spinning around or fall off and hurt himself, either of which would have made my night, but his partner (Tennille?) didn't seem amused or even interested in any of this as he continued to do his breathing exercises.  With a slight frame slab of a torso that went right up to his clean shaven bald head, Captain looked a lot like a real live dancing penis up there, and who would not be enthralled by that?  The security, that's who, and they came over and told Captain to put his shirt on and chill out, which he did but it wasn't easy because he continued to try to dance a little bit and he was drunker than hell; a drunk dancing penis trying to put on his shirt.

What a great night.  I woke up the next morning laughing, and when I saw my mom at dinner later that night, she laughed too when I told her about it.  Hope you enjoyed yet another tale from the bars, Seven Readers.  And now, Captain and Tennille . . .


(Doesn't Tennille sound like a bit of a controlling psycho type if you listen closely to the lyrics, like she might slice the Captain's dingy off if he ever strayed from the marriage?)

Take a Look at This Video About Drunk Monkeys

I don't know what you learned, but I learned these things . . .

1. This had better be the cheapest resort in the world because I could never relax in a place where at any given moment a hoard of monkeys would come to raid my Piña coladas.  

2. The rate of monkeys that prefer not to drink, drink in moderation, and drink to excess parallels that of humans.  Wow!  The excess drinkers are 5%.   I guess that is why I only like around 5% of people and monkeys that I meet.

3. The alcoholic leaders in the monkey communities are no less respected.  I suppose I can see this.  There are a lot of powerful people out there who are functional alcoholics, and how hard is it to "function" in the monkey world?  Sleep, eat, steal booze, make baby monkeys.  Pretty great life, actually, especially when you are on a resort and shit-faced all day.

Drunken Man Love Tackling

Last night LSD and I were awakened to yelling and what sounded like a scuffle outside our bedroom window in the alley.  After listening further, it sounded like some poor guy was getting beaten up by a few other guys, so I decided to call 911 in an attempt to help him out.  Then I heard LSD laughing from the bathroom.  She told me that if I peered out of the open bathroom window at the right angle, I could see what was happening.

One guy had his buddy pinned down on the floor, and because they were so shit-canned drunk, we could hear every word they bellowed, and here it is as best as I can remember:

Chad: You're really going to do that?  You're going to punch your best friend?

Steve: I know.  I know . . . 

Chad: Over a girl?

Steve: You're right.  You're always fuckin' right (repeat nine or ten times)

Then I felt kind of bad calling the cops because although they were some idiotic drunks, all they were hurting was each other.  Well, it's okay because it seems as if Chad got up off Steve and the two of them stumbled into the sunset (or sunrise, more accurately) before the police arrived.  What I should have done was this:

Dr. Ken: Hey, boys!  So what happened with the girl?

Chad: What the fuck business is that of yours?

Steve: Yeah!  What the fuck?! (Steve seemed to be pretty limited in terms of his mental capacity, and he was mighty drunk)

Dr. Ken: Well, you did wake me and my lady-friend up, so the least you can do is let me know what all the fuss was about.

Chad: Well, asshole here wouldn't go for the brunette because he always has to have the blond, even though I tried to tell his drunk ass that the blond said she liked me and the brunette liked him.

Dr. Ken: So then you went home with neither?

Chad: Right

Dr. Ken: And now you're lying on top of one another in a dirty alley?  Together?

Steve: Hey!  You're the one that's the damn fag, window guy!

Dr. Ken: Steve, your friend is right.  You always take what comes your way in times like that.  Were they both hot?

Both: . . . Yeah

Dr. Ken: Then you just go with how it happens organically.  The odds of each of you getting serious with both of them after a drunken Tuesday are pretty slim so no need to fight.

Steve: No way, dude!  I think I love that blond one!

Dr. Ken: Not likely, Steve.  You don't even know her name, and what kind of prospect for a girlfriend gets blind drunk on a Tuesday like that?  Just see what you think in the morning.

Both: Fuck you!

Steve: Yeah, fuck you, window guy! 

------------------------------------
Then again, calling the cops and going back to sleep was probably the move.  In other news, here is a link to what is coming soon to my Chicago based blog, The Liars Club, often times involving crazies like these crazy Chicagoans.

Natural Endings

Sometimes I go to this hole in the wall bar for Boston fans in Chicago because my buddies Oats and Southie like to go, and it's grown on me.  You're guaranteed that the bartender gal with giant boobs will get three quarters drunk midway through her shift and then way beyond drunk once she punches out and gets on the other side of the bar.  You can just tell she was smoking hot around 7 years ago, but the hard living has taken its tole on that face of hers.

One time a cop with giant mutton chops came in to deal with a regular who was stumbling all over the place, and I realized the cop was a regular too when the big chested bartender said, "I got an 8 ball over here, so you better frisk me!"  The cop just hung out talking to folks for a bit and then took the stumbler home in his squad car.

Last week I was in there watching the Celtics, back when they were still in the playoffs, and for whatever reason some lady in there was going off about Asian massage parlors and damning any man who ever set foot it one.  She was greatly outnumbered by men defending this practice, one of which was quoted as saying that "a happy ending is really just a natural ending."  I Googled this phrase, and it does not appear as if it has been used in this sense, at least not in the first page of Google.  So, I'm giving this fella full credit and dropping this phrase for all 7 of my readers to see.  Thanks, buddy, and thanks, shit-hole bar.

My lady and I went out for some Bring Your Own Wine (BYOB) sushi tonight, and on the way home we wanted some dessert.  We stopped into an Italian place hoping to get some flowerless chocolate cake, and when we opened the door, the only people in there were one gay fella who worked there and three friends of his singing show tunes.  He sang to us that they were closed.

His friends urged him to get his ass back into the kitchen to cook us up some dessert, but we didn't want to trouble him - plus he was pretty drunk so he could have badly burned himself.  He did give us a tour, taking my girl by the hand and trying to warm her up (I appreciated the concern).  I told him we could come back in later in the week on Tuesday, but he was admittedly too drunk to enter our reservation into the computer, so he had me do it for him.  On the way out he introduced us to his friends, and for around the 20th time he said how adorable my girlfriend is. 

He said he would give us some free dessert but to be sure to remind him because he was well aware that he would likely be too drunk to remember him.  I'm looking forward to Tuesday.  Better brush up on my show tunes . . .

The Second Drunken Voicemail Post!

As always, be sure to pause the music player on the right so that you can make an informed decision.

Let's Play . . .

. . . Sober or Not Sober! Leave your guess in the comments section, and I will announce whether or not my buddy in this clip was drunk off his rocker or just really angry. As always, pause the music player to the right if you want to give it a careful listen.