Craziness!

So a lot has gone on since my last post, partially because I believe it was over 2 weeks ago. First of all, my friends Adam and Rachel came for a visit from St. Louis. A few observations from that visit:
-There don't seem to be any BBQ Krunchers in the Chicagoland area...WTF?
-Its scary when people send you text messages claiming they are in the same room as you.
-Its even scarier when they happen to correctly guess what color shirt you have on.
-Chicago's Pizza at 3 am is awesome...but I guess I already knew that.

The next weekend, I went to St. Louis for Vanessa's cousin's wedding on Friday night, then woke up at 5:15 to go to my high school's alumni golf outing Saturday morning. A few notes from that trip:
-Some guys can pull off pink seersucker suits, and some cannot. I'm in no rush to find out which category I fall under.
-Its easy for a guy to be mistaken for a good dancer if he: A. has a good partner B. continually raises his arms in the air at various angles to force said partner to spin, and C. avoids the white man's overbite.
-One of our partners for the golf outing was at the casino until 4 am the night before, and still began drinking on the golf course on the second hole (around 7:45 am). The sad part is that he was still far and away the best golfer on our team.

Tomorrow I embark on my first official business trip. I believe the goal is for me to sit there and shut up, and perhaps be charming whenever I am introduced to someone. Certainly I will pass along any interesting observations from that trip as well.

Finally, a special "awesome takes practice" shout-out to my brother, Bubba Tunes. He has twice recently given me props for my taste in viral videos on his blog (which was much of the inspiration for my own), and moreover, just donated a Samsung BlackJack phone to my cause. This is especially appreciated since my old phone would drop the call every 30 seconds. Props are also in order for Liz and Burke for facilitating said donation. Anyway, if you happen to be the one person that reads this blog that doesn't read Bubba Tunes, get on it!

Tisk, tisk.

Well folks, it appears viewership of this blog has reached an all-time low. Thats pretty sad since as far as I know the all time high was 8 in a week. My last poll, which I fancied an in depth soul-probing question, received a total of 1 vote, which I admit was not unsolicited. Now, it has come to my attention that there were some technical difficulties that prevented that total from being tripled, but according to the greatest mathematical mind I've ever come across, Jaime A. Escalante (How do I reeeach theez keeeeedz!), 3 x 1 = 3, and that's still a small number.


As if the low voter turnout weren't enough, there's the matter of the contest entries. I received a grand total of 0, which I must admit is only slightly lower than the expected number, but still, I offered an incredible prize package which included both a high 5 and a personalized photo of me flashing you a peace sign. If that doesn't spark entries, I don't know what will. On that note I'm officially declaring the contest closed, and naming myself the winner. *Smack!* Man, that was an awesome high 5. Jealous?

Movin' on up!

Over the past week or so, a lot has happened. I moved into a new apartment, was reunited with my lovely and talented girlfriend, and was requested to do a cartwheel by a mob of gay men. Each of these events was an eye opening experience in its own unique way, but really they all contribute to one conclusion.

Upgrading apartments made me realize, or more appropriately reaffirmed how much of a sap I am when it comes to letting go of things. For instance, there's a reason that my wallet tends to be big enough to bring a tear to the eye of George Costanza, and it certainly isn't because its full of money. Rather, its full of useless crap like ticket stubs, notes, and business cards of people I know I'll never need to get in touch with. The reason isn't that I'm one of those crazy hoarder people that fill their houses with garbage for years and years, its that I have a big soft spot for certain memories. Its that soft spot that's going to miss my old apartment.

I'm not going to miss the stove that only worked when it felt like it, the carbon monoxide detector that went off every time I used the oven, or the toilet that ran more than Flock of Seagulls. Despite all those nuisances, that apartment is filled with great memories for me. I'll never forget nervously pacing around by the kitchen table asking Vanessa's voicemail out for the first time, then hoping she knew I was talking about a date, not a study session. I'll remember watching about 6 straight hours of The Office with my sister when everyone else was at the Michigan-Northwestern football game. And of course I'll always remember waking up at 8 am after a late night out with Eddie and Lorenzo to find those two laying in the living room already having resumed their conversation from the night before about what Lorenzo would do if he were a Doctor and the only way he could save Eddie's life were to...you fill in the rest.

Last April when I moved into that apartment I had planned on it being the last place I would stay at in Chicago, simply holding me over until I could move back to St. Louis. Well, it took me a while, but eventually I discovered that best laid plans aren't always for the best. Luckily I was able to figure that out before it was too late, and I think at least some of the credit for that discovery belongs to my old apartment. Chicago will never be my hometown...nothing could ever turn me into a Cubs fan...but it is certainly now the town I call home. This new apartment definitely has some big shoes to fill, but I can't wait to start filling them up.

Update

We're still waiting on the first entry in the contest mentioned in the previous post. As an incentive, the first 3 entries will receive a personalized picture of me flashing the peace sign (as soon as I find my camera). Between that and the chance of eternal glory and a high five from yours truly, I fully expect the entries to start rolling in.

Contest!

Okay, so here it is, the first ever "...but awesome takes practice" contest! Here's a little background: Everyone knows those lame inspiriational pictures with the message under them that only make sense on rare occaisions that they sell in crappy stores. For instance, they'll have a picture of a bunch of people climbing a mountain with a group of Sherpas with this written under it, "Teamwork: The Last Bastion of Fortitude."

Anyway, there is a brilliant website out there that allows you to make your own humorous inspirational poster. I'll provide the link to this website at the end of the post. All you need to create one of these posters is a funny or embarassing picture and some amount of wit, the rest is pretty self explanatory. So here's how the contest works: Whoever submits to me the funniest poster as determined by the judging panel (me), wins an amazing prize! What could this amazing prize be? Well along with eternal glory, the winner will receive a high-5 from each member of the judging panel! Yes, I'm serious, its that big of a deal!

Anyway, I'm not sure how the submission process will work, so just figure out a way to get them to me. I guess you can email them to me, and I will post it on this very blog if you indicate you would like me to, and the judging panel deems it is appropriate for this highly reputable blog.

Anyway (and yes, I did just begin my third consecutive paragraph with "anyway"), here is the link to the website: http://diy.despair.com/motivator.php
Now get out there and make me laugh! I'm tired of doing all the work in this cyber relationship!

Happy Father's Day!!

Happy Father's Day to all the Dad's out there but especially to the only one (as far as I know) that occasionally reads this blog. Of course I'm talking about my Dad, the person that you all have to thank for my love of puns, my drop dead gorgeous blue eyes, and of course my freakish left-handedness. Dad has taught me many things over the years such as how to use a Windsor knot in a tie (I forgot that one and instead use the retarded 3rd cousin of the Windsor, the half Windsor), that pretending to be a wine connoisseur almost makes you a real one, and that its okay to laugh at unintentionally humorous parts of serious movies...even if no one else in the theater does. He also deserves a great deal of kudos for creating "the plum tree move," the most unstoppable basketball move for slow white men...when playing against other slow white men.

Anyway, here's to Dad's everywhere, especially mine. Keep you nose to the grindstone Dad.

Embarassing Moments...

Readers, I must admit that I am embarrassed. A while ago I promised you all that I would post more frequently, and well, that has proved to be a steaming pile of (insert favorite poop word here). I have lied to you all, and for that I apologize. They say that when you apologize you are supposed to show remorse, do some other crap, and most importantly do something to make amends for your mistake. To that end, as a act of contrition for this ever so embarrassing event, I will now share with you all a number of my most embarrassing moments that I may or may not have admitted to otherwise:

-In sixth grade my pants fell down while performing in a skit in front of the entire grade.
-While taking the admission exam into Oak Hill before third grade, I wouldn't say I pissed myself, but yeah, there was a bit of urine on the crotch of my pants.
-Senior year of high school I fell on my face while trying to jump up onto the corner of the stage in Jurgens hall (about 3 1/2 feet high) and kick-off while "freestyle walking."
-Right after the aforementioned fall, I did it again to prove that I did it on purpose...I didn't...and it hurt more the second time.
-I just got done watching the first season of the new version of Battlestar Galactica, and I liked it.
-In the past year I have given myself 4 seemingly permanent scars, none of which were received in anything approaching a badass fashion.

I'm sure there are many more moments which I've forgotten, so feel free to list your favorite embarrassing moment I've had in your presence or at least told you about. Beyond that, be prepared for more of me making a fool out of myself for years to come.

Who's got next?

So a lot has happened since my last post. I finished grad school, completed an internship, dropped my keys down an elevator shaft and ate about 13 pounds of meat. Its a funny feeling watching one chapter of your life definitively slam shut. Its even more surreal when it goes by so quickly that you don't even have a chance to realize that its coming to a close.

There are a lot of things I'm going to miss about the last year. I'll miss my 4:30 power naps in the library, I'll miss sneaking in time to see Vanessa before or after class, and I'll miss randomly laughing at work and having Kate know exactly what obscure thought was on my mind. There are also quite a few things I won't miss including, but not limited to averaging 5 hours of sleep for 2 weeks at a time, missing "The Office" every week, and eating Subway 12 times a month for dinner (sounds great, but really, its not).

Anyway, its been a hell of a past 12 months filled with plenty of highs, lows, Panda Express and 4 new scars at various places on my body. So thanks to everyone that provided those highs, and even those that contributed to the lows. If you can't learn a few things from a year like this, you must have your head in the sand, which if you think about it would be a bad position in the neighborhood in which I currently reside.

Well, now that I'm done with that, all of you out in readerland can look forward to more frequent posts. The possibilities for the topics of these posts are endless. I imagine that at some point the following things will be covered: werewolves, force lightning, pork, acetaminophen, Care Bears, the DH, gerbil sociology, and much much more. Stay tuned.

That shrinking feeling

So I had my head formally examined for the first time this week. As the last part of the hiring process for a new job I'll be starting later in May (knock on wood), I had to trek out to Highland Park to visit with a Psychologist. The job is at the company I'm currently interning at, but will be a "real job." Anywho, after hearing horror stories about trips to this Psychologist, I was prepared for the worst. My sojourn began with a super-lame 5:30 wake up call in order to catch the Metra. Side note: The Metra ran like absolute clockwork, making the stop at each station at the exact time it said it would on the schedule. How can the Metra run so smoothly, but the CTA trains and buses are about as reliable as that shady 3rd cousin of yours that sells novelty backscratchers on the street. Am I crazy for thinking that? Actually, we'll get to my sanity a bit later.

When I got to the Psychologist's house (yes, the meeting was in his house), I had to sneak around the back to where I was informed his office was. I felt a bit uneasy about being a stranger wandering around in a backyard of a rich suburb, but whatever. The majority of the meeting was actually done on a computer, as I took numerous tests designed to test A. my intelligence, and/or B. my likelihood to randomly strip down and start yelling about the impending marsupial uprising that will doom us all.

At some point during a test that seemed like a watered down version of the SAT, I thought to myself, "hey, this is kind of fun!" It was at that moment that I realized I actually was insane. What sane person would enjoy waking up at a ridiculously early hour, traveling all the way across the Metro Chicago area just to take a few tests that I could gain nothing from? I decided to keep this revelation from the Psychologist.

Anyway, about an hour or so later, I found myself taking a test with in which I could only respond yes or no to the following types of statements: "You are deeply disturbed by the sight of a malnourished horse," and "The thought of bugs on your skin makes you feel 'creepy.'" It was after this test that the Psychologist actually sat down and interviewed me. It was a pretty standard HR type interview, during which I had the following thought during a casual discussion of my family. "23 years. Thats how long it took for me to be in a shirnk's office talking about my mother." I ended up finishing up a bit early and having a pretty relaxing rest of the day thanks in part to a (somewhat) unexpected pizza delivery from my beautiful, intelligent, and all around wonderful girlfriend.

On a completely unrelated note, the first "...but awesome takes practice" poll has closed with 8 votes in just over a week I think. Wow. I honestly thought there would be no more than 3 votes, so I'm very impressed. Thanks to all who voted...I'll try not to drive you away with posts as long as this one from now on.

Just say "No!"

Recently I went down a road that I had promised myself I would never go down. It is with great shame that I admit that last Thursday I actually drank a cup of coffee. The reason behind this decision was a mixture of fatigue, curiosity, and fool-heartiness, but I am glad to have gained some insight into how the world works. I am now greatly alarmed that majority of the business world cannot function on a daily basis without their daily dosage of what can only be described as a relatively potent narcotic. The comparisons to crack I feel are totally justified. To illustrate, I think coffee tastes like crap, but that didn't stop me from downing 5 cups in a matter of hours. I made the following observations during this harrowing experience:

-The startling and dangerous high that comes with excess coffee drinking can be likened to the quasi-synthetic elements from the periodic table (i.e. promethium). The high comes from something natural (coffee beans) but takes a little bit of tinkering with from
us to get it just right.*
-The parallels between coffee and beer are noteworthy. Both taste better after you've had a few already, and both make me funnier (obviously I'm not drinking either right now).
-I like my coffee like I like my women, short and sweet.

Anyway, even though I was only a coffee drinker for 2 days, I'm finding myself having a hard time quitting cold turkey. Its amazing that a drink I truly hate in terms of taste can have such a pull over me. I figure if I can get through the next week and a half without giving into temptation I'll be in the clear, but I've been wrong before. Actually I'm wrong quite frequently, but thats a story for another time.

*note: This made much more sense when I was actually high on coffee. I wish that unicorn riding leprechaun that explained it to me during my hallucination was here to write this entry.

Super Soaked

The following entry is exhibit A for the case against me being considered an adult.

For reasons that I need not explain, I came into possession of 3 squirt guns at work recently. The 3 guns are in the shape of a shark, dolphin, and crocodile and open their mouths every time you squirt them (get your heads out of the gutter). Needless to say they are just about the coolest things ever.

Anywho, it didn't take long for me and a few of my co-workers to find ourselves in a Reservoir Dogs-esque stare down that erupted into an all out bloodbath (you know...if we would've filled the guns with blood instead of water). Luckily this didn't take place in our closet sized office for 3 filled with expensive electronic equipment. Rather, it took place in Millennium Park in front of a group of foreign tourists. Eventually we found shooting pigeons to be even more entertaining than shooting each other. I must tell you there are few feelings more satisfying than hosing down those winged rats. They hop/fly around like you would if you were drunk and could fly*.

Anyway, I imagine this becoming somewhat of a regular event for the next couple weeks, so if you're around the bean around 12:45, make sure to send the pigeons my way. You know they've got it coming.


*This blog in no way condones drinking and flying. Be responsible. Use autopilot.

Peas on that!

Greetings, reader (yes that is supposed to be singular, and more than likely is an optimistic estimate of how many people will view this post at some point)! While rummaging through my freezer in a fruitless (pun intended) attempt at finding something worth eating at 10pm, I stumbled across a pack of frozen peas. These peas, which of course I ended up shoving even further into the depths of my freezer than they were before I discovered them, were part of the rations so kindly provided by my mother when I first moved into my apartment in May 2007. That got me thinking...does anyone actually enjoy eating peas? Sure, I can shove them down my throat from time to time if absolutely necessary (that's what she said), but where's the flavor? Aside from what is surely a small amount of nutritional value, I don't see much point for the existence of the pea.

The pea is also the source of what I have just now decided is one of the most annoying sayings in the English language, "...like two peas in a pod." For some reason that phrase conjures up the image of the overly cheerly, moderately overweight assistant to Mr. Rooney in Ferris Bueller. A great character, no doubt, but certainly someone that if they existed in real life would be annoying as hell (and probably be the only person that enjoys eating peas).

In the end, I think that eating peas is a lot like getting all dressed up and taking a family portrait at some professional studio. You'll begrudgingly go and won't be any worse off for it, but really you're just doing it to make your mom happy.

It begins...

I hear this "blogging" thing is all the rage these days. Truth be told, if you (both of you) get hooked to this blog sometime in the next two weeks or so, be prepared for disappointment, because I'll probably lose interest and stop around the one week mark. That last sentence brings something fairly interesting to mind; if you do become a fan of this blog, there is probably something wrong with you, I mean, there are many things wrong with me, so it just makes sense logically.

Anyway, enough about you, you're all here for me anyway. Today at work I got bored, a rare event (hahaha, you can't tell if I'm being sarcastic or not), and decided to take a quiz to find out which pre-1985 video game character I would be. After a series of deep, soul-probing questions such as, "I like sounds that go...A. Beep B. Boom C. Whack D. Gloop E. ee-oo ee-oo F. Groink," the quiz told me that I was Mario. I was kind of relieved to see this since Mario is probably one of the few pre-1985 video game characters that I am really familiar with. Afterall, most of my worldly experience circa 1985 involved pooping myself and desperately waiting for my next meal. Only one of those two things has changed 23 years later, I'll let you decided which one for yourself.

Thats all for now. I'm actually impressed with myself. Don't get me wrong, I know its all jibberish, but I half expected myself to lose interest and stop writing right in the middle of a