LSD's Going Away Playlist: Volume 2 of 4

As this is the second installment in this series, if you already know the purpose of the list, just skip down to have a look at the songs, otherwise, have a look at the intro:

I have been working on writing the "liner notes" for the playlist for discs I made for LSD, my girlfriend, who is going away from Chicago and Dr. Ken for two years to attend grad school in California, and I thought I would share the songs and notes with my beloved Seven Readers.

There are 28 total songs, so I will post 7 songs at a time. As always, be sure to hit pause on the player on the right side of the page if you want to play the song clips. Let me know what you think!

Hey, LSD!

I hope you like these songs. I tried to pick ones that hold some sort of significance, and my hope is that they make at least 153 minutes of your drive to Cali enjoyable.

Perhaps one day you’ll come across this mix and smile.

They’re in alphabetical order by the name of the song, and I actually listened to each song as I wrote the notes for each one.

Enjoy!

LSD Cali Mix 1 (part 2) – Liner Notes

8. Led Zeppelin “Going to California”

Okay, again, not so creative, but I really do like this live version with the country lap steel guitar sound. “Took my chances on a big jet plane. Never let them tell you that they’re all the same.” Also, I think this line applies, given your undertaking: “Standing on a hill in my mountain of dreams, telling myself it's not as hard, hard, hard as it seems."

9. Travis “Hit Me, Baby, One More Time”

I mostly put this on here because you went to Britney in the second row, or whatever, but also this is a good version to have because it’s hard to find. I read an article with the Travis guy, who I think is an incredible singer, and he said that they started doing the song as a joke, but eventually he put so much heart and soul into it that the words began to mean something to him. “Oh baby I shouldn’t have let you go . . . My loneliness is killing me . . .” I can see why those words might mean something to a guy like myself.

10. Motley Crue “Home Sweet Home.”

Yes, this is a hair metal ballad, but it’s pretty awesome. It’s surprising you don’t hear this one at the bar more like you do with “Livin’ on a Prayer.” The song has that message of being home sweet home, coming down that long and winding road to be with your loved one, or whatever, but it also needs to be on this list just to add some rock and balls.

11. Whitney Houston “I Will Always Love You.”

This song is pretty craptacular, but it will always make me laugh thinking about you belting it out the window on the way back from the same wedding as track 5. You were just going for broke, voice cracking from some of the harder notes, but pretty much nailing it – at least I thought so, but I was drunk. Hope you sing it with at least half of that gusto when you hear it now.**

12. Method Man and Mary J. Blige “I’ll Be There For You

The original song already had some good sentiments, but Meth delivers lines like “all that romance crap to show you love.” Okay, that’s not such a good part, but I like when he says “Even when the skies were gray, you would rub me on my back and tell me ‘baby it will be okay.’” FYI there is around two minutes where they break it on down where I wouldn’t be mad if you skipped it. I just wanted to get some good rap on this list.***

13. Milli Vanilli “I’m Gonna Miss You”

Okay, this one came up when I did a search for “miss,” and I laughed my ass off. If you don’t have fond memories of this song, I understand if you give it a skip. I just picture those goofy dread locked dudes from Germany lip syncing with the record skipping and smile every time. Still, I think it’s kind of a sweet song.

"But there was nothin' I could do to make you stay
I'm gonna miss you"

or

"Giving all the love I feel for you

couldn't make you change your point of view

You're leavin'.

Now I'm sittin' here, Wastin' my time
I just don't know what I should do"

14. Neutral Milk Hotel “In the Aeroplane Over the Sea.”

I remember lying in the bed over by your place, and you asked me to keep playing “pretty songs” on the iTunes. I recall that you liked this one, and I liked how it felt lying next to you listening to it. I figure there will be many “Aeroplanes” in our future over the next couple of years, not necessarily over seas, but lakes and rivers for sure.

This line is good:

"What a beautiful face
I have found in this place
That is circling all round the sun"

And so is this one:

"And one day we will die
And our ashes will fly from the aeroplane over the sea
But for now we are young
Let us lay in the sun
And count every beautiful thing we can see
Love to be
In the arms of all I'm keeping here with me."

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*This isn't the version of "Going to California" that I put on there, the actual one being the version from the "How the West Was Won" disc.

**Okay, that's not Whitney, but that kid is putting it down, whether he knows what he's saying or not.

***This youtube is also a slightly different version, and I think I like it better than the one I put on her disc. Darn!

LSD's Going Away Playlist: Volume 1 of 4

I have been working on writing the "liner notes" for the playlist for discs I made for LSD, my girlfriend, who is going away from Chicago and Dr. Ken for two years to attend grad school in California, and I thought I would share the songs and notes with my beloved Seven Readers.

There are 28 total songs, so I will post 7 songs at a time. As always, be sure to hit pause on the player on the right side of the page if you want to play the song clips. Let me know what you think!

Hey, LSD!

I hope you like these songs. I tried to pick ones that hold some sort of significance, and my hope is that they make at least 153 minutes of your drive to Cali enjoyable. Perhaps one day you’ll come across this mix and smile.

They’re in alphabetical order by the name of the song, and I actually listened to each song as I wrote the notes for each one.

Enjoy!

LSD Cali Mix 1 – Liner Notes

1. R. Kelly “Bump N’ Grind.”

There really isn’t a great reason to put this one on here aside from the fact that he’s from Chicago and we did a lot of bumping as well as grinding in the last year. Also, I thought this one might make you laugh because it cracks me up. "My mind's tellin' me no!!"

2. Wilco “California Stars.”

This has always been a feel-good song for me. They’re from Chicago and the song is about California, so what the hell. It’s actually taken from a poem by Woody Guthrie, and I can’t see anyone doing a better job at turning it into a song. It’s also a good driving with the windows down and the wind in your hair type of song – I think.

3. Built to Spill “Car.”

I wanted to be sure that I had a BTS song on here because they’re just about my favorite band; for sure my favorite from Idaho. Will you be driving through The Land of Potatoes? Anyway, the song says “You get the car, I’ll get the night off. You’ll get the chance to take the world apart and figure out how it works.” Also, he says “I need a car, you need a guy who needs a map,” so that makes me think of you and Suzy in the car with a map, and Suzy getting the “night off” of work to drive with you.*

4. Marvin Gaye “Distant Lover.”

I did a search for “distant” or “distance” on the iTunes and this one came up. I had forgotten what a great performance this was. He was driving bitches crazy that night! Anyway, Dr Ken and LSD will be distant lovers for sure. Boot up that Skype, I'll grab some Kleenex, and “let’s get it on” like Marvin!

5. E.U. “Doin’ the Butt.”

I think you will recall driving home from that wedding and me singing this one to random Black folks getting out of the bar in the middle of the night. Plus, I just think you and I sang this goofy one so much to the point that it became a good song. I still need to hear this one at Liars Club before I die . . .**

6. Journey “Faithfully.”

This song is really corny but awesome, and it perfectly expressed what it was like for Steve Perry to be apart from his lady while on tour. One line that is equally gay and amazing is “I get the joy of rediscovering you.” Fuck it. I love this song. I’ll tell the world! I remember listening to this one on my sister’s stereo before I had a CD player. I love those drum fills starting at 2:52. “being apart ain’t easy on this love affair,” but we’ll be stronger for it – I just know it.

7. L.L. Cool J “Going Back to Cali”

There is nothing deeper that went into the logic of putting this song on here except that you used to live in Cali and now you’re going back there. Still, L.L. says “I don’t think so,” which suggests that he would always be representin’ Queens just like you represent Chicago, or wherever we end up together.

Stay tuned for parts 2 through 4, Seven Readers!

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*Suzy is her buddy who is driving with her and taking a flight back to Chicago, just so that LSD has some company. Nice, right?
**I think Spike Lee being in this video gives it some street cred.

My sister was telling me a story about a girl she knew in college who was the male equivilant of a c@ck block. There was one incident where a girl was hitting it off with a guy at a party, and this c-blocker walked right over there, grabbed him by the hand, took him upstairs and got it on with him, later excusing the incident by saying that she "just needed it."

This is when Dr. Ken's sister demonstrated that she is related to me by being equal parts clever and gross when she said that she coined this young woman's nickname: The Beaver Dam. I just love that . . .

You know any other female c-blocker terms?

Is Mark Wahlberg an Asshole?

Well, you be the judge. I did a search on google of whether or not he was a jerk or an asshole, and this is what I found. Now if anyone else searches, I hope this post is the first thing they find because I think I put this Asshole Assessment together quite nicely.

Here's a clip of him threatening to beat up a guy interviewing him just because he calls him an action star. He's doing it in jest but it's a little too much - Mark seems like a bully type that's not yet fully grown up.

Here he is saying that with all his boxing training in movies, he could knock out Manny Pacquiao if he could get in a sucker punch. Also, he says that he punched someone recently and fish hooked another guy's eye socket.









According to his biography on IMDB, this is where he came from:

Wahlberg dropped out of high school at age 14 (but later got his GED) to pursue a life of petty crime and drugs. He'd spend his days scamming and stealing, working on the odd drug deal before treating himself to the substances himself. The young man also had a violent streak - one which was often aimed at minorities. At age 16, he was convicted of assault against two Vietnamese men after he had tried to rob them.

Yes! Beating up minorities! I knew he was an asshole, but this extends to straight-up evil.

What got me on this quest was listening to his commentary in "Boogie Nights" where his phone keeps going off loudly and he never bothers to silence it and at another point he takes a call from his travel agent. The director of the film, Paul Thomas Anderson, had great conversations with the other members of the cast, all of them pointing out scenes they liked and elements of the characters, often characters that weren't theirs, that they enjoyed, while Mark Wahlberg just asked when it was over because he had to go, bitching about the movie being too long. With the other cast members, the conversation just flowed, but with Wahlberg, he had to be prompted to say things, and without fail he would let out a big loud yawn and talk through his yawn. Really, Marky Mark? You didn't know how long the movie was going to be, and once there, you couldn't muster up some enthusiasm or turn your damn phone off? Without that movie, he would never be respected as a serious actor the way he is now, just a serious asshole, so the least he could do was act mildly interested.

Then during John C. Riley's, a much more talented actor, let's face it, portion of the commentary, he tells a story about how during the pool party scene, Wahlberg had his whole entourage with him, now made famous by the overrated HBO series, and he was testing everyone, seeing who would put up with his crap and who he could get a rise out of. People were pushing one another into the pool, but Marky Mark would do it to the same person four times just to get under their skin. Riley says that he doesn't have an angry streak, but he had low blood sugar from not eating and was tired of Wahlberg's crap, so when he got hit square in the forehead in front of everyone with a Marky Mark thrown marshmallow, he just lost it and attacked him. Good job, John C. Riley. Someone needed to stand up to the bully, so I'm glad you had that low blood sugar that day (Also, John is from Chicago so that makes him awesome. I really don't like that for his IMDB biography, the first line is "With a homely mug . . .")

I guess I wouldn't have gotten so mad about Mark being such a turd in the commentary if I didn't love this movie so much; "Boogie Nights" is my favorite film of all time, and when I hate the actor, it ruins the character for me. Dirk Diggler, or really Eddie Adams from Torence, was a sweet innocent kid swept up into a world of sex and drugs, latching onto Jack Horner, the director, and one of the female stars like a father and mother, whereas Mark Wahlberg just seems like an outright butthole. Hopefully with time, when I watch the movie, I'll just see him as Dirk and not the a-hole bully. After all, I was worried that all "Seinfeld" reruns would make me just think what a racist dumbass Michael Richards seemed like at the time, but now he's just Kramer.

Anyone have any thoughts on this guy or know of another celebrity being a jerk? How about one who is supposed to be a jerk but you found them quite nice/misunderstood?

"Allowance:" Another Short Story

Here is the short story I just submitted for publishing, and I hope you all enjoy it.

Allowance

“This is so nice,” said Lilly, reaching across the table for David’s hand. “I can’t believe you were able to get us in here.”

“Yeah, it’s not bad” was the most enthused that David could muster in response.
He was trying to live in the moment and simply enjoy himself, but this was not the table the guy on the phone had promised him. Securing the God damn secluded romantic booth shouldn’t have been a problem on a Wednesday, especially since he had booked it weeks ago, but they likely screwed him over for a b-list celebrity.

He would be sure to see whom they seated in the damn thing. No bother. David would still attempt to make the best of this evening out with Lilly, something they were so rarely able to do with their hectic work schedules, both being in their forties and entrenched in the rat race of their respective successful careers.

A young blond waitress in a long black dress approached them saying, quite charmingly, “If there’s one thing I hate about this job, it’s that I have to interrupt romantic moments such as this one. How cute are the two of you?”

David laughed, “Oh don’t worry about that at all, miss. You wouldn’t think we were too cute if we got all starving and crabby on you, so you had to interrupt at some point” said David, who found himself toning down his flirtation midway through his response.

“I suppose you’re right, sir. And if you’re anything like me, sobriety makes you equally crabby, so what can I get the two of you to drink?”

Now David was perked up, but still keeping the full flirtation he would like to have employed at bay, “We’ll make it easy on you: two dirty Goose martinis.”

“Okay, two dirty geese for these fine folks? I can do that. Back in a bit. Get back to canoodling,” said the waitress, as she tapped the table delicately with her open palm and sauntered past Lilly towards the kitchen, flashing a knowing smile at David over her shoulder.

This time David was the one to reach for Lilly’s hand, his mood much improved after that happy interruption, and he did a good job at maintaining eye contact while at the same time soaking in a solid notion of how sexy the young waitress looked from behind in that long black dress.

“Maybe you’re right, Lil’. Perhaps we don’t need that booth all tucked away when we can let the whole joint know just how in love we are.”

“Yeah, and maybe you have a thing for that waitress,” she said with an innocent smile, but in David’s experience with women, nothing was innocent – she picked up on something.

“Yes, and I was thinking we take her home with us, yes?”

“Really?

God, he only wished.

“No! Of course not! We’re not cut out for that sort of thing. Besides, I don’t want to share you,” he said, effectively diffusing a situation, flashing his charm that he knew he still had, because despite being a touch older than he used to be, a good smile, a few bucks, and lots of tanning could keep him charming for at least another five or six years.

The waitress approached the table, saying, “Here are the dirty-geesies, but I have some bad news: We got swamped by the piano bar, a fricking gin-swilling office party of some kind, and they’re moving me over there to catch the newbies up because I’m the best. So, I guess this is goodbye,” she said, with a cute little frowny face, and this time David was positive she was digging him.

Calmly, David took out his wallet and handed her a large sum of cash and said, “Okay, well here’s the money for the drinks, and you have yourself a lovely evening.”

“Thanks! You two do the same,” she said, not looking at the amount, which David found endearing. Was it possible he was falling in love with his waitress after only this brief amount of time with her? One thing he knew for sure was that he was picking up on some seriously amazing vibes, and he was sure she felt the same.

Waiting it out, after getting a new dull waitress and having a few bites of his meal, he would make his move. He excused himself and walked towards the nearest bathrooms, which thankfully were in the piano bar section – her section.

Walking in, he spotted her instantly – her long legs, perky breasts, long flowing blond hair, and that incredible disarming smile of hers. Casually, he approached her, and reaching for one of his leather business card holder, he touched the fuzzy engagement ring box he was actually going to give Lilly tonight; He was about to make a huge mistake, and this beautiful woman saved him.

Handing her a card, he said, “Listen, I know I’m with someone here, and this is a little embarrassing, but I took her out tonight to end it. I know what I want, and I think it’s someone exactly like you. You’re beautiful, elegant, witty, and just . . . great. Call me, will you?”

Appearing a little shocked and flattered, the waitress said, “I do believe I will, Mr.” (looking at the card to read the name) “Brenneman. I thought we had something going on back there. Now, go do what you have to do with your date, and be expecting a phone call tomorrow, young man.” And with that, she went right back to charming the pants off of that awfully drunk office party for a moment, but as David walked back to Lilly and his table, the waitress made her way to a staff bathroom in the back, joining her friend and coworker who was straightening up her makeup, beginning her shift.

As the waitress, David’s waitress, took out her mirror/cocaine case and lined up a bump to get her through what was to be a busy night, she said to her friend, “Guess who just found herself the perfect man to give me the allowance I’m going to need for the next few months?”

“No! But you just ended the last one. I’m beginning to think you do it because you like the old guys.”

“That’s not it at all. I mean, this new one is attractive for an older guy, but I really need the money, and it’s the only way to get it as fast as I need it. Besides, this is the last one, I promise. Just this one last sugar daddy and then I’ll have enough saved to finally make it to New York for good. Aren’t you happy for me?”

Laughing, her friend said, as she joined the other waitress for a rail of cocaine of her own, “Yes. I suppose so. Does he have a friend?”

Optimistic Prime

LSD and I went to an alumni party for the graduate school she is going to in California, and the rest of the new students they were welcoming were incoming undergraduates. I joked with her on the ride up that someone was going to think we were an undergraduate student's parents, and someone actually did ask us that. I don't think we look old enough to have an 18-year-old kid, but I was hungover and she was tired from a half-marathon. Still, that was a tactless question, and the guy with a lack of tact was my role at this function, damn it.

It was at someone's house, and they had lots of money. I'll never have a kitchen that big. Ever. There were some pretty awesome cookies with the school's mascot on them, so that was fun. Also, I started with two coke zeros, and then my mood really improved when I saw there were Heinekens in another cooler.

I met a mathematician, so I asked her if she heard the one about the constipated mathematician? You know, he worked it out with a pencil? Now, that's a disgusting joke that paints a really gross picture, but how often do I get a chance to use that joke?

We met a girl with the last name of Stream, so we'll say her name was Sandy Stream, and I told LSD on the ride home that she has a great pee-pee-porn name.

Maybe it's best for LSD's career that she get away from me for a little while . . .

On a serious note, we met a guy who seemed very sad for us that we're starting this long-distance relationship, but he seemed to like us and was optimistic, reminding us that two years when you're an adult goes by very fast. I'm trying to be optimistic too, like Optimistic Prime. I mean, I am a pretty awesome boyfriend for driving her to and from this event, and peppering conversations with uncomfortable comments. If I could turn into an 18-wheeler like Optimistic Prime, I'd drive all her stuff out there, turn into a robot for a bit, run around on the beach scaring the shit out of people, maybe even have an awesome tailgate party in the back.

Wait, what happened to the "serious note?" This will be a tough period, but she's the shit, I'm the shit, and together we're anything but shitty, so this just has to work. Thanks for reading, everyone.

Does The Naked Guy Run Marathons?

And yes, "The" is capitalized in the title of this post because that's just how I write his name.

I ran with a running group for the first time along with my friend Monique, who is running her first marathon like myself, and first let me rant about how dumb these groups are. Yes, you get some free Gatorade and water along the way, it gives you encouragement not to stop, they have pace people to keep you running at whatever pace you want, and there are no doubt many other advantages. Ooh, and free crackers and shit at the end. That's good too, but here's what I don't like: They yell out when there is a guy on a bike coming, they yell when there's the slightest divot in the gravel, and overall, they just make you feel like when you were with a nerdy group of friends in high school when you see normal people who simply run by themselves, the cool kids in this scenario.

Okay, now for what's been on my mind, and brace yourself because this is a break through:

I think I saw The Naked Guy from The Liars Club running in the 8 minute mile group with Monique's friend.

We opted for the 9 and a 1/2 minute miles and that was plenty fast when you're doing 15. I don't want to get off on another rant about how dumb it is to run so damn far because I need you, My Seven Readers, to help me get to the bottom of this mystery.

Now, The Naked Guy is the gentleman who strips naked and dances around at my favorite bar of all time, a place where my ashes will likely be on a shelf behind the bar next to the Goldschlager, The Liars Club. I know from my conversations with The Naked Guy that he is a nudist, but if he were an avid runner it wouldn't surprise me because he stays in pretty good shape (click here if you want to know a little bit more about the LC or the NG).

I write on The Liars Club Facebook page from time-to-time so I was going to ask on there if The Naked Guy is also The Marathon Guy, but I was the last guy to comment on the page - making me look like a weirdo if I comment twice in a row.

This is why I enlisted the help of my Heterosexual Life Partner (HLP), also a big fan of the bar, the two of us got in lots of trouble in there over the years, to ask this burning question for me.

I shall keep you posted, Seven Readers . . .

Rape Me, My Friend.

I was running today to "In Utero" by Nirvana, something I hadn't heard in a long time. What struck me is that this is their worst record by far - not even close. He had success and too much fame for his tastes and wanted to release a big F-U to the public, and he was probably horribly depressed and doing too many drugs. Still, it's a better record than most any band will ever make; He was such a naturally gifted songwriter that he made a good record in spite of himself.

Then when "Rape Me" came on, I thought about an Environmental Science class in high school that I was taking when that record came out (Dr. Ken went to school during the grunge era) and a project we had in which we had to bring in a CD to play with a song that was about the environment.

A young Dr. Ken, a metal-head at the time, read a few lyrics from a song called "Greenhouse Effect" by Testament, which is a rather awful song about, you guessed it, the greenhouse effect. Only like three tracks still hold up on that album, but the cover art is still terrific, don't you think? I didn't want to play it on the stereo because I thought the metal would scare the other kids - I was a giant pussy at the time because now I would be more like, "deal with it, pussies."

Then, a classmate of mine had the teacher put on "Rape Me" by Nirvana. We listened to the whole thing, and the teacher was obviously disturbed and offended, especially by the time it got to the breakdown at the end where Kurt is just yelling "rape me" over-and-over again. She asked the young man what the song is supposed to mean and just why in the hell did we listen to that whole abrasive thing, to which he said, "I dunno. I couldn't think of anything."

He could have made something up about it being about mother earth being raped by non-earth conscious consumers using too much hair spray and polluting and the like, but nope, he just came clean and said he couldn't think of anything. Outstanding. A good day in my otherwise highly uneventful high school tenure. Don't forget to turn off my music player along the right panel if you want to see this awesome live performance of "Rape Me" with a young Dave Grohl going all the way off.

I'm halfway, okay, maybe a third-way, through a short story, and I just had to get a break from it and update the old blog. I'll probably post the finished product on here tomorrow.

I'm in the Starbucks, and some woman came in here with the two nuttiest little boys ever, like 2 and 3 years old respectively. She went to the counter and let them terrorize the place, begging for some of the orange soda from the guy across from me and then reaching for my hot coffee. I told them, "No, boys. That's hot." The guy across from me was laughing and smiling and so was I. The mom at the counter didn't even turn around to see what her kids were doing.

Then she sat right by us, and there was something really off about these kids but more in the parenting. She kept saying please when asking them to do things, and it was with this nicey-nice tone. I'm critical of shitty parents in public places, which probably means I'll be worse at it than all of them some day, bribing my kids with cookies like this lady.

In other news, I'm reading "Rules of Attraction" by Bret Easton Ellis, and it's outstanding. Anyone ever read it? It sort of inspired the idea for this short story, the notion that people are always falling for the wrong people.

Also, tomorrow I'm going to a Chicago Cubs game with HLP, James Douglas, and Captain Jack. You know what's funny? I recently had someone tell me that she wanted to get into the blog and get a blog nickname. Anyone else have people requesting that?

Also, I'm not quite ready for this marathon in a couple months, but I may be filling in for LSD in a half-marathon this weekend. My workouts inspired this Facebook update:

Lately, when I work out, I need heavy metal, and when I work out a lot, I eat healthier, buying and enjoying more produce. As a result, I'm going through a simultaneous heavy metal and produce revolution. I call it: Megadeth and Mangos.

I think that the eating healthy thing is great, but the metal thing is really strange because I haven't been this into metal since I was in high school, over 15 years ago. No other type of music can push me in the way that a good and heavy song can. I need that aggressive pace and angry vocals to help me wince through the pain. The ultimate band for this is called Kyuss, and if you haven't heard of them, go buy either "Blues for the Red Sun," "Welcome To Sky Valley," or "And the Circus Leaves Town," all of which are perfect heavy records, not necessarily metal, but heavy, sludgy, progressive, and addictive.

Okay, I'm going to finish this book, hang out with LSD for a bit, and then when she meets some friends for a drink, I'll try to finish this story. Take it easy, Seven Readers.

So, I was taking a picture of some girls last night who were friends of friends . . .

. . . and one told me to hold the camera up high and point it downward, and because I was like 10 Corona's deep, I blurted out, "Oh, you mean to minimize the double chins. Gotcha." The first pic I took had 5 pissed off faces and one giving me the bird.

Then I had to split a cab with them downtown.

This uncomfortable foot-in-the-mouth moment has been brought to you by Summer's Eve.

Old Style Beer and the Old Style of Peeing

Wrigley Field announced that it will stop carrying Old Style and replace it with, rumor has it, Coors Light. This is a tragedy. Yes, Old Style tastes like liquid ass, but it's a man's beer - it tastes like a beer. Bitter, gross, and like diesel fuel - it tastes like when your dad gave you a sip of beer when you were seven and you wanted to puke.

Now, Old Style used to be a quarter or fifty cents cheaper, but then it became the same price. Once it became the same amount of money, the only time one opted for the Dog Pile (as it's sometimes known as) is when the Bud beer vendor hadn't been to your section in a while. It's not like I'm going to miss the taste of the beer too much, but taking away Old Style is kind of like taking away tradition. A nasty, skunky tradition that I treasured and something that has been a part of the ballpark for as long as I can remember.

If you're anything like me, and I hope for your sake you're not, this is making you worry that they will take away other mainstays, like the trough-style urinals. I started a Facebook group to keep the troughs in Wrigley around a year ago, and we have built a robust number of seven people who are willing to put their name on a movement to keep peeing in something horses eat out of.

With your help, we can get over 10 people . . .

Click these words to join the movement.

What's Your L. Ron Hubbard Name?

When we were at the bar - I have no idea why this came up - (why does anything come up at the bar?) we started going around the table saying our L. Ron Hubbard names: the first letter of your first name, followed by your whole middle and last name. This could also be called your M. Night Shyamalan name. Often times it makes the person sound a lot more important than he/she really is.

I can't give you names of myself or any of my friends, but I will give you some fun ones (God bless wikipedia for having all the full names of goofy celebrities):

R. Milhous Nixon (Yup. His middle name was like Bart's nerdy buddy on "The Simpsons."

H. Enrique Estrada (Ponch from Chips sounds pretty serious with his name like this.)

M. Andrew Fox (We're not letting "Michael J." fool us with that middle initial that doesn't stand for anything - not in this game!)

O. James Simpson (A way better athlete/double-murderer with this name)

L. Anthony Gallagher Jr. (Yeah. The guy who smashes watermelons with a mallet)

C. Javon Ochocinco (This dumb-dumb should know that it's ochenta y cinco, but this game even makes this goof ball seem more legitimate, right?)

So, Seven Readers, would you like to submit a celebrity L. Ron name into the comments? Perhaps you can even try using your L. Ron name on a job application to make yourself sound more important, like someone worthy of important things, such as making up a bogus religion about aliens to con celebrities out of their money. Something like that . . .

LSD, my girlfriend, and I have reached a very important part of our relationship where I feel comfortable asking her the following extremely pivotal question:

"Hey, babe. Is this a whopper zit on the back of my ear? I have no way of seeing it."

So, all I had to do today was buy flip-flops . . .

. . . and that's all I really accomplished, so it's what I'm going to write about.

See if you can tell me what's strange about this conversation when I was ringing up my two pairs of thongs. I still call them thongs sometimes . . .

Cashier: You find everything okay, brau?
Ken: Yessir.
Cashier: Okay, cash or credit?
Ken: Credit (hands him his card)
Cashier: Your name, bro?
Ken: Dr. Kenneth Noisewater
Cashier: And address, bro?
Ken: 6969 W. Riveredge Road.
Cashier: And phone number, brau?
Ken: 555-8309
Cashier: Okay, just sign right here, bro.
Ken: There you go
Cahier: Okay, need a bag?
Ken: Nah.
Cahier: Okay, have a good one, bro.

And if you said the funny thing about this exchange, besides the goofy address and phone number and how much information he requested, was that he called me bro 4 times and brau 2 times, you win! He dealt me a full house, bro's over brau's, plus an extra bro for good measure!

Now, did he think that it was okay to call me that because I'm youngish looking, had on a Motley Crue shirt and my hair was still messy from coming home from my lady-friend's? Or does his company, which sounds a little like Bird of Prey from the United States (good selection of thongs!) trains him to call people brau and the like?

Here's another question, which term do you hate being called the most:

Guy
Chief
Captain
Boss
Partner
Big fella
Big homey
Lil' homey
My man
Dude
Toots
Sugar
Sugar-tits
Sweetheart
Ma'am (Makes women feel old)
Sweets
Honey
Babe
Baby
Sugar (This one is okay if it's used by a waitress with an old fashioned bea hive hairdo)

Any others you would like to add?

In this song, DJ Easy Dick says that his radio station, W-Balls, I believe, is the station that "slaps you upside your fat ass with a fat dick." I always thought that was a solid slogan.

Dr. Ken's Buddies

Last night I had 2 dollar pitchers with "the lads" from Ireland. A bunch of them went home early, but Skittles and I stayed out late. I don't think I'd feel nearly as hungover if he hadn't been scooping up so many abandoned pitchers for us to drink. I always blame someone . . .

I had lunch with Gung Ho today, and he and I have the best conversations. I really could just transcribe them and turn them into dialogue for a movie, like those scenes when the buddies get together and talk about life and women over basketball. Isn't there always a damn scene like that?

Now I'm off to go for a run with my other friend, Monique, who, like me, is running her first marathon in a couple months. I'm excited to meet her new puppy as well. The other day we were running together for the first time, sweating our asses off in the heat, and then we realized we were both running faster than usual, thinking that the other person wanted to go that fast. You ever do that?

I was riding home tonight, fresh off a night of trying to get my friend laid, and riding home, I really was looking forward to updating the blog. I think this is good, as many months have gone by without a 15+ month.

Well, Seven Readers. deal with this awful post, this awful, meaningless update of nothingness.

I'll tell you this: When I started this blog, I felt like the guy in the youutbe below, and now I'm much, much better. Everyone who has been here for a long time, I truly value your commitment.

Male Buddies Are Crappy at Staying in Touch

Have you noticed this? Women always seem to have this regularly scheduled activities like lunches, manicures, book clubs, and things where they make sure they stay connected with friends. Men, they usually just go out and get hammered with buddies every now and again.

So, with only around 3 of my closest friends still living in Chicago proper, I've been trying to find something to do that is biweekly or monthly that assures we see one another. Here are some options - let me know what you think . . .

Golfing: This is out. I hate golf because it's boring as hell.

Ballgames: This is not a bad idea because a few of us have season tickets to Cubs games. So, I'm thinking every other week the 4 of us go to a game, not because it's good to watch a team this bad, but because this is just what men do. I still have so many fond memories of Wrigley that it can still be a good experience.

Dinner Parties: This would be a couples thing, but I've done this before where you rotate houses, and it's pretty fun.

Sports: Maybe we could play on a team of some kind together, like softball?

Trivia at Bars: We have done this in the past, but you really can't do much catching up if you're racking your brain for answers the whole time.

Flag Burnings: I'm just seeing if you're still paying attention.

What do you think, seven readers? Do you have any write-ins? Anyone else have this problem?

Chicago Bucket List

So, with LSD, Dr. Ken's girlfriend, leaving for Los Angeles in the fall, she and I are putting together a Chicago Bucket List of things to do before she goes. Here are some endeavors:

1. A trip to Cinners, her bar when she lived in Lincoln Square. I also fell in love with this place because they have Hamm's for two bucks and I can B.S. about life and music with Tony, bartender and owner. Also, they have a night where you can bring in your own vinyl, so that would be a good time to go and spin some records. Currently, her neighborhood's neighborhood bars suck. Don't you hate when you don't have a good watering hole around the corner?

2. A trip to The Liars Club, Dr. Ken's all time favorite bar. LSD haven't done much dancing together, but this would be a good place for her to bang out the running and man and Roger Rabbit skills that made me crack up on one of our first dates.

3. Frank Lloyd Wright tour in Oak Park, Illinois. You see, not all the items on the list involve bars!

4. White Fence Farm in Joliet, Illinois. This is a place where a lot of old people go to eat chicken and look at antiques and they have this awesome gravy. Plus, they have a petting zoo for my nephews. And Uncle Ken.

5. A long ass bike ride until the end of the Lake Shore bike path.

Anyone want to share any bucket list things they want to do, Chicago related or otherwise?

Let's Play Guess Their Day Job!

I was at a concert last night, and there was a series of openers, one of which had the most eclectic-looking group you could ever see. I defy anyone to find a band where each individual has their own distinct look, and comes from such a wide variety of different age brackets, shapes and sizes.

I was at the show with my girlfriend, Law School Dropout (LSD), and a good friend of mine, Southie. All of us started playing the Guess Their Day Job Game, and the following is the consensus.

Drummer: LSD decided this guy's name was Merv, and we couldn't argue with that. He was bald, overweight, looked to be in his late forties, presented as a cross between Butterbean (only much thinner than that) and Larry Bud Melman, and he he on tinted glasses. I also thought he looked like one of those fat babies on Maury Povich, especially with the funny slack jawed, fly-catching face he made with his head slightly cocked through out his playing.





His Profession: Southie decided he was a school bus driver. Nailed it.










Bass Player: As you can see from the actual band shot below, this guy looks a lot like Ogre from "Revenge of the Nerds," but as Southie points out, he looks like he may have been a love child between Ogre and Kerry King from Slayer. This man is absolutely enormous and looks to be very active in a biker game full of marauders, so I really, really hope he never finds this blog for my safety's sake.



His Profession: He makes the majority of his money selling drugs and assault rifles to other biker gangs, but for tax purposes, Southie maintains that he cleans shoes at the bowling alley.






Keyboardist: I liked this guy because there were very few songs where you could hear his keyboard, and I just got the sense that he is always pushing the band to go in a more progressive direction like Yes or Deep Purple. He had that hair that is long in the back in bald in the front like Klaus Meine from The Scorpions, and he had on a 70's shirt buttoned down with nothing underneath. He was very short as well, which made him look a little like the second half of the life of the late great Dio.





His Profession: He is an insurance claims adjuster, but he produces the band's records in his home studio (his basement), along with local high school and college bands, for whom he also supplies with home grown marijuana, another source of income. He's doing quite well for himself!






Lead Guitarist: Now, when I say this band has people from all across the board, this guy is a prime example because he was way younger and more attractive than the rest of the band. He would be getting any chick showing interest in the band. Maybe on a good night the singer could land some of his run off, but the rest of the band would be hoping for the older bar flies to get on - and there were a few of that night - good luck, Merv! The lead guitarist also had a quite good physique, including some very nice arms, so again, I really hope these guys don't find this blog entry. Actually, though he played with a game face for the duration of the set, he was actually very nice and all smiles afterwards. LSD found his phone on a bench, and he was extremely grateful. Man, am I huge dick for making fun of these guys?

His Profession: We considered pool boy, but how many of those are there, really? LSD decided he was a construction worker, I'm thinking from 7AM to 3PM, and then he gives guitar lessons, showing young hopefuls the joys of the power chords and drop D's. But mostly trying to nail his students' mothers in the process. (There are no pictures because he had no celebrity twins).

Singer: Now, this is really the guy that got us looking for celebrities that they looked like because he had the exact hair and facial hair of Frank Zappa. I really hope he's in a Zappa cover band, having that look and being able to sing and play guitar well. LSD was quite jealous of his thick, lustrous hair, but I reminded her that he probably doesn't wash it much, which is the trick. Think about it: How many bald homeless guys do you see?

His Profession: Although he also looks a little like Otto from "The Simpsons," bus driver is now already taken by the lovely Merv, so for the singer, we're going with manager at Jiffy Lube. I can just see him pulling that mane into a pony tail and going to work, and I can see him being an honest mechanic, not encouraging his employees to rip people off, despite the heat he gets from corporate to do so. However, Frank-Zappa-Guy has been doing well at his location by getting regulars through his charm that spreads down to his hard-working and dependable employees.

And, here is the pic of the whole band, taken by the lovely and talented LSD:


I hope you enjoyed this, Seven Readers, and I encourage you to try this upon your next visit to a rock concert. However, make sure you get there for the openers, as the headlines may not need the day jobs, unless it's all cover bands, which makes for a really good time for this game.

I was walking home from the grocery store today, picking up some soup and juice and the like to make me feel a little better, when I heard from a line of cars at a light, "Move your fucking asses, people!" A light had changed, and there was no way in hell, even with perfect reaction times from all motorists, that this person would have gotten through. So, he's just swearing loudly for no good reason. Then I was shocked to see that this guy was super old. I'm disturbed by old people swearing, especially the fuck word, like Jack Lemmon as Shelley "The Machine" Levene in Glenngary Glen Ross.

Although, I have heard from a lot of people who work with the elderly that old folks start swearing like mad when they're starting to lose their faculties, so maybe they no long have the energy or patience to hold back.

So, I guess let it rip, old folks. You've earned it. I always try to be nice to the elderly and help them out however I can, and I guess I'll have to grow a little more tolerant of the disturbing swearing.

My Nephew Is Gifted . . .

. . . at Battleship.

He's a first grader and he was playing the seventh grade nephew in the classic naval battle game. It was clear that the little guy wasn't fully understanding how the game worked, so Uncle Ken was helping him along.

He got hits in like 3 out of his first 4 guesses, and each time I'd try to explain that he should keep guessing near those hit to sink them. He proved me wrong by finding new boats, which really is better - if you're gifted at Battleship.

When the older one would guess somewhere, the little guy would say it was a hit when it was really a miss, and I'd say, "You hit water," so then we were all saying it and laughing. I recommend saying that next time you play, with a pause: "You hit! . . . water."

The older one said that there is a black Battleship that has sound effects, and I let him know that they had that thing in the 80's, and I wanted it every Christmas, circling it in the Sears Catalog but never finding it under the old tree.

Later, while playing at the park, the 4th grader (there are three - he wasn't playing the Battleship) said out of nowhere, "butt licorice." I asked him just what in the hell that means, I think in those exact words (I swear a lot around them, but I'm working on it), and he said, "I just made it up." I think he's also gifted. At saying awesome stuff because that's pretty amazing. I think it could be an Urban Dictionary term for when you have that awful black poops or maybe even a band's record title. Better yet, a backup bands' name like Dr. Kenneth Noisewater and the Butt Licorice Experience.

Is any of this at all interesting or funny?

Is this thing on?

So, I Was Singing the Way You Make Me Feel . . .

. . . by Michael Jackson in the shower today, and the following statement occurred to me and rang true in my screwed up brain:

All that kid fucking really infringed upon all that hit making.

Jorts' Lesser Known Cousins

I'm having my second National Redneck Appreciation Day (NRAD) celebration/moonshiner tonight, and putting together my outfit from the local thrift shop was great fun and informative.

I had my heart set on a pair of jean shorts (jorts), but that begot a denim dilemma: everything needed to be denim. Before I knew it, I had myself full-blown, full-body Canadian tuxedo.

So, I got a jean hat and a jean shirt. Then later, while cutting my jorts shorter to get them nice and frayed, I made a some jean loops, two of which can be used for guests who don't show up with outfits; now they can wear jean hats (jats), one of which I inadvertently cut a tail in the back like a coon skin cap, or a Davey Jocket. Yet another smaller loop I'm currently wearing as a jean bracelet (jracelet) or a jean watch (jwatch), if you prefer.

Oh, I forgot to mention that I also bought a jean wallet (jwallet), but it's really more like a jean coin purse (coin jurse).

They didn't have any jean shoes, but that's probably for the best because then they'd be called jews.



How about you, Seven Readers? Have you thrown any theme parties lately or been a guest at one?

No. Not Another Caption Contest? Are You Fricking Serious, Ken?

Yes, I'm not feeling creative today, so we're doing another caption contest. You know, when you look up "weird pic" on Google Images, you get a lot of Weird Al pictures.


Anyway, here's the pic. As always, the winner gets no monetary gift, but he/she gets a virtual smack on the virtual butt and a "good effort."

Randomly Random Updates in No Particular Order

1. Last night, while celebrating my good friend Gung Ho's 30th birthday, we ended up stopping into Chicago's famous late night eatery, The Wiener Circle. Part of the schtick of the place is that the heavy set Black women swear at you, and you can swear back at them a bit, within reason. I talked all about the joint here at the forever floundering Chicago blog, "The Liars Club." I'm really looking for more Chicago based bloggers to get it running again, so email me if you're interested.

Anyway, after getting my dog and cheese fries, it dawned on me that I hadn't been sweared at, so I went up to the counter and said, "Excuse me, miss. You didn't swear at me." To which she said, "Man, I'm too tired for all of that." I said I understand she was working hard, to which she replied, "Just sit your pussy lips down."

Boom.

2. I'm horribly hung over, and at 8:00PM, I'm having a glass of wine out of a coffee cup that says "Special Interest Public On Target Marketing" that has a big target on it, and it's the only time I've felt good all day.

3. I saw an old guy filling up his cup of McDonalds coffee in the grocery store where you're supposed to use the dixie cup sized ones for free tastes. I figure he knows he's not supposed to do that, but like Honey Badger, he "doesn't give a shit." I saw another old guy showering in a fountain the other day, and I'm thinking it's the same effect. I can't wait until I'm old. Or a honey badger.



4. I have only one more day of physical therapy, and I'm excited about getting this ankle 100% so I can run my first marathon. At first I didn't like my therapist lady because I thought she was a snatchatollah khomeini (a Gancey original term), but once I get to know her, she's not so bad. Also, she was torturing me at first, so it's hard to like your torturer, unless you got that Stockholm Syndrome. Speaking of which, my favorite band from Sweden is coming to town, Truckfighters, the guys I interviewed here. Also, Stockholm Syndrome is an awesome song sung by the fat guy in Yo La Tengo. Give it a listen.



5. My roommate just got a ticket for parking more than twelve inches from the curb. I have done that a bunch of times and never have I gotten a ticket for it, usually when I'm parking drunkenly (is that correct grammar? Why can't I use the adverb form of drunk at the end like any other adverb?) The thing is, Chicago is bullshit about squeezing money out of people through parking violations and automated red light camera-jobbers and the like. As my roomy was looking at his ticket, another lady said that she got a ticket for the same thing, so it must have been some total doucher trying to fill his quota. But, here's the thing: that violation isn't even on the big list of things to check off on the ticket, so the doucher had to write it in. The beauty of it is that he put one hash mark instead of two, which would indicate that he was 12 feet from the curb, so I totally say the Spinal Tap defense holds up in this case.

The Cali Report

My lady (LSD) and I are back from our Cali trip where I accompanied her to a wedding and saw and fell in love with San Francisco for the first time. And I'm going to give you, my beloved seven readers, a full report. Now, don't worry - it won't be like a boring slide show. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I typically, although not always, succeed in making my stories funny, which is the mark of a good blogger. I just don't don't update enough to be really good anymore, which is what great bloggers do. However, I intend to do a decent job at this, so let me know how I did.

The beauty of doing things like this is that you get all the details down on "the page" to look at years later. Every once in a while when I leaf through some old entries, I will have completely forgotten about funny little moments, and I'm grateful that I have this rag for that reason.

Thursday:
We got into Oakland and the way I met LSD's parents was her father picking us up from the bus station. I liked him right away. He has a mustache, so he kind of looks like a cop but the good cop in the movie that you trust, not the crooked one. He also has a terrific sense of humor, like his daughter. Then we sat down to a dinner at their place, and I met mom, who I liked just as much as dad. I have been nervous in the past about meeting girlfriends' parents, but it's a helluva lot easier when I'm completely in love and 100% sure she's the right one for me.

Friday:
We got a nice early start to this day, but then we set ourselves back by royally screwing up the eggs we cooked and having to clean up the orange juice that I managed to spill inside of seemingly every kitchen cabinet, somehow. We then drove into San Francisco to check into the hotel before driving off to wine country.

The best thing about wine tastings is not the crappola lectures about grapes and shit, but more so I like getting to know these people and having some laughs, as many of them, you'll find, have terrific personalities. One small winery is owned and operated by a middle aged couple who look like the types who could also run "dopery" because they were just really laid back good folks, and the guy, while he was bright and witty, was a little deliberate in the way he carefully put his thoughts together into phrases. Somehow I sang a line from some random song, as I tend to do that sort of thing, and he told us how the two of them were just dancing to that song for their anniversary the night prior. They talked about it being an occasion ripe with wine flowing, dancing, and merriment. When I asked where they spent such an evening, they said that it was right where we were standing. Alone together in their very own winery, drinking their own blends, dancing to the sounds of their iPod.

After sobering up, we drove to Muir Woods because Dr. Ken had his heart set on seeing him some redwood trees. It was a long path through the woods, and we wanted to beat the traffic, so we decided to go back to the car to fetch our running gear to jog through it. This was a bad idea because there were wicked hills, giant red wood roots sticking out of the ground, the sun was beating down on us, and we got a little lost. One German guy with a giant back pack asked us if we knew where we were going, and I'll never forget the look of despair on his face when we told him we also had no idea where we were going.

But, we made it out of there alive to enjoy a great Italian meal in the North Beach area of San Francisco. We were going to hit some bars afterwards, but we were both tired from the Redwood adventure, so we returned to the hotel for some alone time. Why is it that "getting to know each other" in nice hotels is so damn awesome? We need to travel more because that's just a great deal of fun.

Saturday:
We knew that we had a rehearsal dinner in the late afternoon, so we packed in as much touristy stuff as we possibly could beforehand: cable cars, Bailey's and coffee at a bar called Buena Vista that invented the drink, some clam chowder, and Alcatraz. Overall, my impression of this city is that I've never been to a major city before that looks and feels so cozy and comfortable to me. All the buildings look like one of a kind, and there are so few Starbucks and Wallgreens on all the corners. You feel like you're living in a movie when you walk around that town, and it could be set now or twenty or thirty years ago.
The thing that I learned at Buena Vista is that they have plaques dedicated not to athletes who have nothing to do with anything, like say, Joe Montana, but to patrons who came to the bar every day for thirty years. The bartender told me this when I asked of the significance of a plaque on the wall that said a guy's name, a dry gin martini, and a range of years. That's what he drank and the years he did so, and it was hanging behind the bar on the corner in which he sat, along with the cane he would rest on the bar after ordering his martini before heading home, which he did every day up until he died at over 80 years of age. Another fellow who sat at the other end of the bar at a different time of day had just passed as well, and the bartender was in talks with the family to get his hat to put above a plaque over on his end of the bar. I don't know why, but I really liked that these guys were being honored in this way. Perhaps this appears as a random detail when you're talking about a trip like this, but not to me.

Saturday:
Just after waking up, I met the brother and his girlfriend, who are both great people. LSD had to do wedding stuff all day, so I spent the day with the family I had just met, which sounds strange but was totally fine. I went to the mall with the brother and girlfriend and watched the Giants game on TV with the dad, who rarely misses a game.

The reception was outdoors on a golf course with mountains behind it, which was beautiful, but it was just about the hottest day of the year. While it was a wonderful ceremony, getting to the indoor air conditioned reception and open bar was tremendous. LSD and I danced a few songs, had some shots cooled through a fire engine ice sculpture, and they had paid dudes out back to hand roll fresh cigars. I only smoke one or two cigars a year, but I really do like how it makes me feel more sophisticated and wealthy than I really am, if even just for a moment.

Around last call, I let LSD know that entering into what will soon be a long distance relationship, no longer scared me. It's just what we have to do, and we're going to do it right. I also told her that San Francisco will always be the city where we fell even deeper in love. I was thinking maybe we name a girl Bay some day, but maybe that's getting ahead of ourselves a touch. In the midst of this heartfelt discussion, one of the drunken groomsman came over to us to incoherently tell us some drunken philosophy. We politely told him that we were kind of having a moment, but that didn't really get rid of him. He was a lot like, and I hate to reference this show, but Joey from Friends: kind of stupid but lovable. So, we just had to laugh and not worry much about it because he kind of enhanced the moment in his own way, actually.

Sunday: Because this is getting long and nothing much happened on this day, I'll just take this time to say thanks for reading if you made it this far, and I hope you've enjoyed it.

Good night, seven readers. And goodbye San Fran. You'll see me again some day. Count on it.