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|Friday, May 6th, 2005|
|I got it!
I was driving to work, listening to "Je T'aime" and it hit me. Judge Dread is the Benny Hill of ska!
Just thought I'd share.
|Tuesday, May 3rd, 2005|
On the way home from San Diego a woman sat next to me on the airplane. She was an older woman who seemed frightened to be flying. When the plane was about to take off I wasn't allowed to use my mp3 player, so I had to listen to her talk about how she doesn't fly often and she was freaking out. The thought of the plane crashing into a mountain scared her. I was scared she might have the urge to lose control and pee on me and the guy sitting in the window seat like an R Kelly orgy.
I employ a certain strategy at work. A woman sits in the cubicle next to me who seems to forget just about every detail about her job, prompting her to ask me stupid repetitive questions. That's not what bugs me. She asks questions without addressing me specifically so I never know whether or not her inquiries are directed towards me. Another problem is the wet coughing fits she has every once in a while. It's so loud and disgusting people across the office are gagging on their lunches. I resorted to listening to CDs through a pair of headphones to drown her out. It's not a very effective way of blocking her out. The music never completely drowns her out, but at least with the headphones on I can pretend not to hear her. She would ask the question three times before she stands up to make sure I'm actually at my desk, but all I do is stare at the computer. Sometimes I initiate a head-bob to make it look like i'm so absorbed in the music that I am oblivious to the world around me.
I used the same technique on the airplane. Every time the woman would talk to me, I would pretend I didn't hear her. I'm so drowned out by the loud droning of the airplane, by Stiff Little Fingers playing through the headphones, and by having a book to bury my face in, that I could pretend to not hear her speak. She finally caught me when I got up to use the bathroom. I have a few things to say about airplane lavatories later.
The lady started talking about how she is on her way to Ohio because her father is dying and wants to see her before he dies. I hated to ignore her after that. She probably just needed someone to talk to, but what else was I supposed to say? I struck up a conversation with her out of guilt. It was an awkward moment where I just didn't have the heart to say, "Well, time to read my book and listen to my music again! Hope everything is ok with that dying father thing!" Eventually she dozed off.
* Regarding airplane lavatories... I don't understand how anyone could become part of the "mile high club" unless they're 3 feet tall and very skinny. I could barely aim when I take a piss in there. And another thing I was always afraid of in airplane lavatories: having my intestines accidentally sucked out by the flush mechanism. I don't know where all the waste goes when the toilet is flushed, but I can tell you the suction is so strong the door to the lavatory actually rattles. One of these days someone is going to die from a freak toilet suction accident.
|Thursday, April 28th, 2005|
|You people post too many pictures.
Day 3 since the last cockroach sighting.
I'm starting to beleive that the cockroach came out to die. He wasn't moving much. I've seen cockroaches in the past, and they seem to skitter along like a dead leaf blowing along in the wind. This wasn't even a crawl. He sluggishly moved along the tile floor, an easy target for my shoe. He must have been into the boric acid.
If I spot another one of these creatures, I will attempt to capture it alive for scientific study...
|Tuesday, April 26th, 2005|
|Roaches would make cute pets if it weren't for the disease and infestation thing...
Yesterday I went to the Cubs game. I spent much time in February trying to get tickets, and at about 1:00 I went on the Cubs website and I was able to buy some pretty good tickets. Section 118, Row 11. It cost me this week's grocery money, but starving myself for the next 7 days was well worth the drunken shenanigans and a chance to see a win despite being present to watch Chad Fox suffer what is likely a season ending injury.
The only bad spot was when a guy sitting in the row in front of me rest his arms on the seat backs like it was his own sofa in his own family room. His hand came close to dipping into my beer multiple times. I had to refrain from keeping my beer cup in my hands through most of the game. I was in too good a mood to complain, drinking as much as I can at a game for the first time in a long time. Since I didn't have to drive home, it was a good time. Thank God for the Brown Line!
When I arrived back at my apartment I was shocked to see a lone cockroach crawling on the bathroom floor as I sat on my porcelain throne. It was a bit out of reach, and in my drunken stupor I had forgotten to remove my shoes. I hurled my shoe at the intruder with skillful grace. I nearly killed the monster, only managing to smash half of it with my shoe. I finished it off with a swift buffet with my shoe. I gave the poor creep a viking burial in the toilet.
I was freaking out. Though it was just a lone cockroach, it could be a sign that I am surrounded, that the fuckers were living in the walls, in the plumbing, in the ventilation system... in my clothes!
I spent the rest of today cleaning the ktichen and the bathroom, although the kitchen was already close to immaculate. I haven't seen a roach other than this one, and I'm guessing most of his kin are dead from the apartment being sprayed last week. Another possibility is that it hitched a ride on my shoe as I walked home from the Damen el stop.
I didn't want to take any chances and I vaccumed just about every corner of the apartment, except for the dining room. If I see one more of my little visitors I am going to get right on the phone with my landlord to tell her what a crappy job the exterminators did. I'm hoping this is just an isolated incident and people start refusing to come visit, as if I didn't have any friends living close by to begin with.
I would like to announce that I DO NOT HAVE A BUG PROBLEM! So come over and watch the Bulls with me, and we can order a pizza and some wingz, and you can watch me as I shed blood, sweat and tears trying to make sure every crumb is off the floor.
I'm just expecting to come home one day to a million cockroaches doing a musical number singing, "Dave's apartment our home sweet hooooome!"
|Thursday, April 21st, 2005|
|by popular demand
Meaning one (1) person requested that I post this on Live Journal. Well, Hilary. You asked for it...Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Too much to chronicle today. I spent the weekend in California and, to a smaller extent, Mexico. But let me begin by talking about the plane ride going there.
It started out fine. I was up and ready at about 4:30 AM since I had to drive all the way to Midway Airport and park in the "economy" lot.
Please note that the term "economy" shouldn't be used to describe a parking lot if they charge as much as I had to pay to park there for 3 days. It's much like the concept of "economy class" airplane tickets. I don't consider it economy if you have to pay $300 for it. In this case I flew Southwest Airlines for the first time. Maybe I should have known this from the beginning, or at least asked, because I had no idea there were no assigned seats. Instead they break you up into three groups: A, B, and C.
If you look at it in a Titanic way, A is the upper class, B is the not-so-upper class, and C is steerage. In this case, the steerage gets seated last, so if you're at the butt end of steerage, you end up sitting next to the unsavory people, or in my case between two really really fat people. I have no other way to describe them in words other than "really really fat".
It's almost cliche. It's something that you would think would only happen on a Seinfeld episode, only less funny. At least it wasn't funny at the time. I would extract a few laughs when telling the story later on. I was literally squashed into a small portion of my own seat because of the folds of fat that were encroaching onto my space. If that wasn't bad enough, the woman, who was sitting on my left, fell asleep. She had no clue of the discomfort she would put me in when she fell asleep and slowly poured her way into my space. I could feel her pillowy body pouring over my arm like an overflowing vat of corn syrup (high fructose).
I tried to demonstrate to others the position I was in. My arms were tucked awkwardly in front of my body like a halfway transformed transformer. To drive the point in further, I was planning on doing bills while on the plane but I couldn't move my arms. I was barely able to hold a book in front of me to read it. I propped the book against the tray table. I considered using my nose to turn the pages.
I debated with my brother afterwards the problems with severely overweight people on airplanes. Should they pay for extra seats or should they have their own "roomier" seats at an extra charge. His argument was that since we pay by the pound to transport objects overseas, it should be the same with passengers. In other words the 50 lbs of extra fat the big person is carrying technically is the same as a less fat person checking an extra bag. We're not allowed to bring large baggage into the cabin, so why should extremely fat people be allowed to carry on the extra fat, especially if it encroaches on other peoples space and makes people less comfortable than they should be.
Conversely, if someone wasn't fat but was just really big, they should be subject to the same rules. I wasn't sure about this. It seemed like watchdog groups would be all over that. I'm not a skinny person, but I'm willing to bet that most skinny people out there, regardless of their politics, deep down feel that they don't want to sit next to Jabba the Hutt on an airplane, especially in coach class.
Now, I wouldn't have cared if I didn't have to be the monkey in the middle. But it was obvious that the two were together. I assumed they were married. This is what happens when two really really fat people get married. They go on airplanes and make people like me very unfomfortable. I understand and appreciate their rights to travel with the rest of society, but the least they could have done was sit together and given the smaller person the aisle seat. After all, they did know each other and were probably married, so I'm sure it would be less awkward for them to be squeezed together like two matzo balls rather than having both of them squeezing me between them. It's common courtesy.
It also may have been common courtesy if they decided to take the Amtrak. Sure it takes two days, but at least they get their own compartments, and they get to view some beautiful scenery.
I guess the moral of the story for me is if you're walking down the aisle of a Southwest Airlines flight, don't be too selective of who you sit next to. I admit I passed up the opportunity to sit next to some seedy-looking, yet smaller, people. This brings up a whole other debate which I will not get into at this moment: Would you rather sit next to a really really fat person or a smelly person.
It also depends on what the smelly person smells like.
Some may notice that I also posted this on here
. Since nobody reads any of my crap, I have to post this shit everywhere it needs to be read.
|For old time's sake
I might be going to see the Groovie Ghoulies. However, if I see a bunch of 16 year old bitches wearing a ton of black eye makeup, I'm gone. Do they even do that anymore? I was told that all those 16 year old scene whores from back in the day grew up and hang out at Delilahs.
If I see that the crowd is invariably youthful, I will relegate myself to the bar area.
|Tuesday, March 29th, 2005|
|That's all I have to say
W L PCT GB HM RD CONF DIV PF PA STRK L10
1 x-Miami 53 18 .746 - 31-5 22-13 36-7 13-1 102.1 95.0 Lost 1 8-2
2 Detroit 43 27 .614 9 ½ 26-9 17-18 26-16 5-8 92.7 90.0 Lost 1 6-4
3 Boston 38 32 .543 14 ½ 25-11 13-21 23-18 6-5 101.3 100.2 Lost 3 7-3
4 Washington 39 30 .565 13 24-9 15-21 22-17 7-6 100.3 100.4 Won 2 6-4 5 Chicago 38 31 .551 14 22-13 16-18 23-16 7-6 93.6 93.3 Won 6 6-4
6 Cleveland 36 32 .529 15 ½ 25-9 11-23 22-19 6-6 96.5 95.2 Won 1 5-5
7 Indiana 36 34 .514 16 ½ 20-14 16-20 21-19 7-7 93.0 92.9 Won 1 6-4
8 Phil 35 35 .500 17 ½ 20-14 15-21 25-17 7-6 98.7 99.5 Lost 1 6-4
|Wednesday, March 23rd, 2005|
I've been way too busy to be updating this, and many of the experiences I've had in the last few weeks have already slipped into the ether. Not that I believe that "ether" really exists in this context, but I'm sure it's the only way I can think of to describe where memories go. I'm pretty damn sure they don't float off into a rainbow where there are flowers and unicorns and where babies play. I'm pretty sure they disperse into brain matter as my neurons are discharged, making room for other newer memories, such as sitting in the stall at work and panicking as a flood of shit water raced towards my shoes after gurgling forth from a clogged handicapped toilet, where a gigantic turd had passively lodged itself.
What I do remember is that I moved the rest of my crap out of storage, and when I was done unpacking, I noticed my microwave was missing. If anyone spots a lost microwave in the Chicago area, please contact me. As the week progressed I also realized that many assorted pots and pans were missing, as is my collection of cheap plastic cups I received courtesy of the legendary Bob Chinn. This revelation was mild compared to the fact that my computer desk was broken into four pieces during transport. I know it wasn't the effect of bad arrangement of furnture in the moving van. It was more of an effect of being purchased at IKEA, and also being a piece of crap.
I still haven't seen any of my neighbors, but I may have heard one of them at 2:00 AM. I was awakened by someone yelling outside on the street. I couldn't make out what exactly they were saying. It was either a young boy or a woman, but it kept me up for at least 30 minutes. I'm not sure what was going on, but I was about to start throwing shit. About 30 minutes later I hear a door slam outside my apartment. Bitch next door was probably the culprit.
For all I know most of my neighbors could be a bunch of human/cockroach mutants.
I'm almost out of money until the 31st. Luckily I was approved for a credit card. This is huge because for years, banks would have laughed in my face if I asked for a credit line. I believe I have recovered enough to gain at least SOME trust. It's for emergencies of course. Like if one day I have to buy an emergency video game, I can rest assured that I will be covered.
|Wednesday, March 16th, 2005|
I'm sitting in my apartment right now bored out of my mind, other than the time I'm spending fixing up the place. One interesting thing about this place is the lock on the bathroom door:
Anyone ever see something like this during the last few decades? I'm not even sure if it's a functioning lock or if it's just for decoration. I haven't quite tested it out yet.
|Wednesday, March 9th, 2005|
|Phase 1 complete!
I accidentally pulled the headset cord out of my laptop and suddeny ELO was blasting all throughout the office.
It is a bit casual in the office because there is a chili cookoff going on, but just like me, I forgot it was casual day and dressed up for work. Not like it really matters. As I have said in the past, jeans are just a distraction from the truth, that you're still at work and your day still sucks. Everywhere I go I smell chili. I'm not going up to partake in the festivities because the last thing I need is to have major shits while carrying boxes up two flights of stairs to my apartment.
Phase 1 of the move is complete. Hong Kong Phooey's things were finally removed from the apartment and I was able to move a few things in, including the all-important TV, Playstation 2, and DVD collection. The balcony still holds a few items that I suspect belonged to HKP, such as a garbage can, corner TV stand (which is promised to Brian if nobody claims it), a clothes rack. I could really use the garbage can. It would definitely save me a few bucks at Target.
The next four days constitute Phase 2. Tonight I am moving a few more boxes and tomorrow my Sofa and TV Stand are being delivered. This will likely be the first time I ever owned a sofa that wasn't second hand. On Saturday I will do some assembling and inventory to figure out what else I need to buy.
I still need to find out who to order pizza from. If anyone is familiar with the Lincoln Square/Ravenswood/Edgewater area let me know!
|Thursday, March 3rd, 2005|
|The Best Thing Jay Mariotti has ever said...
"...Santo should just thumb his nose at the elitist snobs and move on. He needs to let go before the disappointment kills him. And he needs to understand how inspirational he is to millions of people, in Wrigleyville and beyond, who see him hobble into the WGN radio booth in fading health because he loves baseball and the Cubs. The very reasons he should be in Cooperstown -- undying service to the game, along with Hall-worthy numbers -- are the very reasons he should elevate himself above the political fray and hold his head higher than his ballpark banner."
More opinion at http://www.whateverfiles.com
|Monday, February 28th, 2005|
I just looked at my credit report for each of the Big 3 reporting agencies.
Talk about skeletons in my closet!
...and knowing is half the battle.
Credit checks will be available for free to everyone in the US eventually. Currently people on the west coast can get their annual credit report for free. Starting tomorrow (March 1) people in the midwest will be able to. I, of all people, have learned how important it is to have good credit, seeing as I don't have it.
Other regions will have free credit reports available later this year:
Southern States: June 1, 2005
Eastern States: Sept 1, 2005
for more information.
|Thursday, February 24th, 2005|
|Monday, February 14th, 2005|
|Reason #100 not to go to an apartment rental agency
I wrote them 3 checks:
1. First month's rent
2. Credit check fee
3. Security deposit (one month's rent + half a month's rent)
Check 1 and 2 were dated with the date the checks were actually written out.
Check 3 was post dated to the 15th (payday).
Checks 1 and 2 should have been deposited already.
I look at my bank balance yesterday and I freak out because all this money seems to be missing. It turns out they deposited the check that was POST DATED to the 15TH!
I'm not immune to making clerical mistakes, but not when it involves a shitload of someone else's money.
|Friday, February 11th, 2005|
|I'm just oozing with objectivity...
This is dedicated to incendiarymind
1. A woman claiming or popularly believed to possess magical powers and practice sorcery.
2. A believer or follower of Wicca; a Wiccan.
3. A hag.
4. A woman considered to be spiteful or overbearing.
5. Informal. A woman or girl considered bewitching.
6. One particularly skilled or competent at one's craft: “A witch of a writer, [she] is capable of developing an intensity that verges on ferocity” (Peter S. Prescott). Jew
1. An adherent of Judaism as a religion or culture.
2. A member of the widely dispersed people originally descended from the ancient Hebrews and sharing an ethnic heritage based on Judaism.
3. A native or inhabitant of the ancient kingdom of Judah.
By this particular series of definitions, I conlude that calling someone a "witch" as an insult is not the same as calling someone a "jew" as an insult.
Let me note that definition 4 of "witch" is not considered informal or colloquial, whereas "jew" being used as a verb is considered "offensive".
tr.v. Offensive jewed, jew·ing, jews
1. To bargain shrewdly or unfairly with. Often used with down.
2. To haggle so as to reduce (a price). Often used with down.
Therefore, interchanging the words "bitch" and "witch" and "psycho hose beast" can be done without the perception that you're insulting someones race or religion.
|Thursday, February 10th, 2005|
|Philosophy of Dad
1 million people can ________, but only for David would it be a mistake.
|Wednesday, February 9th, 2005|
The relocation experiment begins...
Never use a rental agency to find an apartment unless it's extremely necessary.
1. They kept me at the office for 2 hours because they didn't know how to do their own paperwork.
2. I had to come in on Saturday morning becuase they incorrectly advised me on who to sign the check to.
3. They kept forgetting which apartment I rented.
4. Most of the people who work there are 22 years old.
Not that I have anything against younger people. It's just the feeling I got when they kept fucking up my lease. I wanted to bitchslap each one of them. Except, of course, for the girl who came in to correct the paperwork. Her cleavage was hanging in front of my face like an inflated Underdog at Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.
|Friday, February 4th, 2005|
|I'm moving!!! Sometime after March 1, 2005.
Have you ever been to Zephyr?
Did you know there are apartments over Zephyr?
That's where I'm moving.
Yes you read that correctly! I am going to be living above people pigging out on 12 scoop sundaes and 2 gallon milkshakes (The Shitter, Brian informed me those are called now).
I'll keep you posted on the housewarming party.
It's not exactly the 1200 square foot palace I was looking at earlier. I went to look at the 1200 square foot palace, but I found out that it was too close to Swedish Covenant Hospital, which apparently has a big trauma center, because an ambulance would wail it's way through every 10 minutes. That's something I just can't handle. Trains and Planes I can handle, but sirens tend to scare the crap out of me. It's something about the high pitched wailing that just makes my skin crawl. Maybe it's the idea that there is a sick or possibly dying person roaring past me at 50 miles per hour.
While in the process of looking over the stats on the palacial estate, I came across an apartment ad for a nice cozy little apartment (which usually means smaller than a shoebox) in Ravenswood. It seemed to have everything I wanted so I decided to make a little trip out there after checking out the big condo.
It was similar to the experience I had buying a new car. I went shopping expecting to come home with expectations, but instead I came home with a car.
Similarly, within 24 hours I was signing a lease. I had to sleep on it, and I had to have friends talk me through it. I have been pondering a move for 8 months, and 8 months is plenty of time to think. But being the ADD-minded person that I am, tough decisions don't come easy for me. Hell, choosing between two CD's at a music store doesn't come easy for me. It's a mix of my indecisive brain cycling too many thoughts, and my past experiences of making myriad bad decisions.
People were telling me to be a man. Others were telling me to get over myself. Others were telling me that once I do this, the pressure will be off and I will be happy. I tend to tell people to make decisions when going through that internal debate, especially when it involves something like choosing between a 32 inch TV and a 36 inch TV. I always tell them to just pick one, bring it home, and once you have time to debate, it's too late. It's easy to give advice when it doesn't impact your own life. When you give advice, you're working with a set number of variables. When you try to figure things out for yourself, you're constantly dealing out more and more variables to work with, thus making the decision more difficult.
Some people have an easier time solving these equations. I don't.
But when it all went down to the wire, I made my decision. No remorse, right? I guess therapy is working, after all!
So anyway, the apartment is pretty nice:
It's a rehab
New Kitchen, bathroom
Separte dining room
central a/c, which is the most important thing in the world. If I had lots of money, I would give central a/c to everyone in the World!
|Wednesday, January 19th, 2005|