It really doesn't matter which way you go

yeah... that's what I was thinking

on the way, indeed

uh... what's that s'posed to mean?

I saw this sign and I think it means
"only people who are half-popsicle
are permitted to fuck midgets in the
missionary position."

Child Labor

was walking past a Bank of America branch last night...

Wowie Wabbit

I had a salad last night at The Gage that was so good there was nary a scrap of lettuce left on my plate:


This almost never happens.

The salad was mixed greens with a horseradish vinaigrette and shredded braised rabbit. It had these tiny sesame-seed-sized "crisp rice" pellets sprinkled over it for a bit of crunch. The rabbit was amazing—perfectly seasoned, tender and yet crisp (was that skin? I wasn't sure).

For a brief moment I felt sorry for the rabbit, because they're so cute.



But then I remembered a bumper sticker I saw recently that had made me laugh:
I love animals. They're delicious.

I will definitely be going back for that salad again.

English Has Too Many Stupid, Unnecessary Words

I think my vocabulary is fairly broad, but I often encounter words that are truly unnecessary—is the English language so concerned about syllabic efficiency that we can't just use a few extra words to convey the same meaning?

Here are some examples:

skulduggery
sounds like: a place where one digs up skulls.
actually means: dishonorable proceedings; mean dishonesty or trickery.

tatterdemalion
sounds like: WTF?
actually means: a person dressed in tattered clothing.

cupidity
sounds like: the state of being Cupid, like stupidity is the state of being stupid.
actually means: eager or excessive desire, especially for wealth; greed; avarice.

defenestrate
sounds like: although my knowledge of other languages clues me in, it still makes me think of defecate.
actually means: to throw out of a window.

crapulous
sounds like: a slang version of fabulous, but perhaps meaning the opposite: crappy.
actually means: sick from, or marked by, excessive drinking.

I'm not in favor of pleonasm (the use of more words than are necessary to express an idea), but many English seldom-used/understood words are just a load of fustian (pompous or pretentious language; see also bullshit).

mmm... sushi

Went to a sushi place last night that was new to me. Everything we ordered was really good, but the rainbow dragon maki made me laugh when the waiter put it on the table:


The googly-eyed, big-tongued dragon—beware!

The following is a public service announcement. Even if you love wasabi, I don't recommend leaving any sushi soaking in soy sauce that has lots of wasabi in it for more than a second or two. Otherwise, this could happen:


poor Zack. I tried to warn him...

About Last Night

I went with a longtime friend last night to see George Michael in concert at United Center. She had asked me over a month ago if I wanted to go, and the tickets were expensive but we got good seats and I was excited because I don't go to concerts much.  In fact, I've only been to a handful of live performances in my life. 

This was definitely worth it. He did great material from his 25 years as a star, the energy was good and the visuals were amazing. We were standing up dancing in front of our seats throughout most of the show.

I had a great time, in spite of the suburban women who sat next to us for most of the show. They at first appeared to have some class and taste, but this eroded quickly as the concert progressed and they began binge drinking. Before the show they kept talking to us, and the one sitting next to me punctuated every sentence by placing her hand on my knee, which annoyed me. Then they switched seats and a different one appeared at my side. She asked me if I wanted a Xanax. I declined. I was however now ready for a drink, and there was a guy walking around selling beer so I asked for one and he asked for my ID. Xanax woman couldn't believe this (apparently I look too old to be carded?) and asked me how old I was. "I'm 37 too!" she exclaimed, with an earnest look that begged me to proclaim her younger-looking while her friends stared at the floor.  "Really," I said, took a sip of my beer and turned back to my friend.  

The show started and my friend and I were loving it.  The suburban girls took turns disappearing and bringing back round after round of drinks for themselves. At one point Xanax woman turned to me with a shot glass stuffed between her surgically-enhanced tits, as if this were a frat party and this was my cue to extract it using only my lips. I laughed. "It's a joke," she slurred.  "Yes, it is," I replied, returning my eyes to the stage. Honey, you're at a George Michael concert. The only men here are guys who were dragged by their girlfriends/spouses — no doubt to earn romance points or atone for some transgression, and gay men. And the gays far outnumbered even the 40-something suburban women in the audience who fell in love with the singer back in the days of Wham, when the gays knew he was one of us even before he did. As the show progressed, Xanax woman and her "sisters" migrated into the aisle, for which my friend and I were grateful because we then had nearly the whole row to ourselves for dancing. 

Throughout the show, Xanax woman lived up to her name, fishing through her gigantic purse on the stairs next to the aisle, popping pills and guzzling drinks, attracting the attention of security more than once. Later I glanced over just in time to see her flirting with a group of short Mexican boys (they looked like teenagers) who literally began grabbing at her breasts. She got upset and complained to security, who at this point were fed up with her, and the lot of them were kicked out. 

After the show my friend and I pondered why anyone would spend $150 a seat to ignore the show, binge drink and get kicked out of the venue. They could've gone to any neighorhood bar, spent far less and got hit on by men who weren't minors. For me, it was money well spent and I enjoyed myself more than I imagined. I definitely need to get out more often.

What Not to Call Your Product

Unless these cans contain moving tongues, 

I'm thinking they could've come up with a 

better name.

Recognition

I have had the recent misfortune of dealing with a horrifyingly reprehensible being that is something other than human, yet has a human form. This in and of itself is unfortunate, as those who encounter it are deceived into thinking it is something other than the monster it truly is.

If I could portray what I see when I look at this creature, the monster represented in this painting nearly does justice to its hideous nature — in particular the two-faced aspect — for the creature of which I speak does indeed share this same attribute, and this depiction is accurate considering the shit that comes out of its mouth(s).

The characteristics of this evil beast: psychotic, melodramatic, drug-addled, pathological liar, manipulative, martyr complex, vindictive, malicious, passive-aggressive and childish.

There are many names one could give to such a creature; indeed it is difficult to determine which fits best.  Options include devil, drama queen, life ruiner or psycho bitch, but perhaps the most fitting name is psychic vampire.

A few minutes alone with such a creature is enough to leave psychically sensitive people such as myself feeling drained or even nauseated.  In the case of this particular dangerous individual, the psychosis, pathological lying and other drug-induced delusions seem to prevent the creature from recognizing its true nature, having convinced itself that it is an innocent victim, and that its malevolent behavior is somehow clever or justified. This beast feeds on drama and is a walking field of negative energy. When there is no drama to be had or an event to further its ceaseless quest for sympathy and martyrdom, it ingests alcohol, prescription painkillers and anti-depressants (how ironic) and even illegal substances in order to invent drama — complete with carefully crafted lies. It then feeds the lies to acquaintances (who are never present when the created drama is purported to have occurred) in order to garner much-needed sympathy and fuel its twisted sense of righteousness. I use the word "acquaintances" because such a creature can have no friends except its own kind, for anyone getting too close to the truth would see the creature for what it is, quickly recognize the monster in disguise, and run the fuck away.

Doggie-Style?

Cheez-Its

On my way home yesterday, after exiting the train station I passed a conspicuous amount of Cheez-Its scattered across a long swath of sidewalk near the curb. I wondered what would cause so many of the bright orange crackers to be littered this way. Did two kids fight over a box of them, sending most of them flying when one wrested the box from the other? Did someone trip over uneven concrete in the sidewalk? Was it just a social experiment designed to see how many people would notice them?

The next morning it was raining when I left for work. I had forgotten the Cheez-Its, but as I neared the station, there they were. With much of their artificial color washed away, they were now pale and soggy, forlorn spongy flat blobs that looked like drops of vomit. I wondered if they would wash away completely or if I would find them again in the evening, further eroded and unrecognizable to those who hadn't witnessed them prior to their slow demise.

Welcome to the Meth Church, Would You Like Some Fish?