Your Huge F'ing Umbrella Cannot Block Out My Rage

Living and working in the city provides many opportunities for the possibility of injury: An irate cabbie, a vulgar homeless person, an eight year-old girl who "want(s) ice cream NOW," etc. However the only time I fear for my life when I leave my apartment is when it’s raining. Now get me straight, I’m not afraid of the natural elements of rain; thunder claps don’t scare me, I don’t have astraphobia (fear of being struck by lightning), and I know for a fact that I won’t melt. I’m afraid of the umbrellas that people walk around with IN THE CITY.

Folks, listen up…you are not GOLFING today. You’re getting on the most convenient mode of public transportation that you have access to like you’re about to hit the back nine in a summer shower. Are you f-ing KIDDING me? Why are you walking down a crowded sidewalk at the 8:30 a.m. pedestrian rush hour like your caddy is right behind you? There is only one of you under that beast. And you take up the whole sidewalk. Oh sure, I’d love to side step into this puddle on the street and get run over by a bus so that you can walk down the sidewalk with your deluxe 60" umbrella.

When the rain stops, I momentarily thank the clouds above for parting until I remember that these huge bitches don’t disappear, they become brightly colored devices that can (and will) impale me. People must realize what a hassle these abominations are once they’re not in use because they will do anything in their power to keep them as far away from their body as possible.

"No, your golf umbrella will not fit into your oversized purse."
"What’s that? You have a new cane to smoosh people’s toes with?"
"Excuse me, I can’t get past you while you’re violently swinging your arm with that three foot weapon you have there."

Seriously, assholes. Leave the golf umbrellas on the course and use a soggy newspaper like the rest of us.

Reasons why Monday sucks

1) I just picked up a new pair of pants last week from Express after having them altered. I was SO excited to wear them today because they're a good length and they fit me really nicely. Well, I've been walking around strutting my stuff all morning here at work. I just got back from the bathroom only to discover in the mirror that they are SPLIT up the back the entire way. Embarrassing enough already, throw in the thong factor and that ups it by 10.

2) Have you seen those commericals for the computer notebooks that can fall on the ground and have coffee spilled on them and they're fine? Well they need to make cell phones like that, because I dropped mine in a cup of tea last night and now it doesn't work. This makes the SECOND time I've dropped my cell phone into liquid (the first being a dorm toilet).

3) I'm super sick and just made an appointment with a new doctor. Well apparently because I'm a new patient, they can't see me the same day I make an appointment? Where does that logic come from? Why would they need to wait a day before they treat me? So I'm even sicker and have to pay more for a prescription? Whatever, it's probably for the best anyway considering I'm now half naked.

4) The immigration rally is today. Now, I have no problem with this except for the fact that it's being held a block from my office building. And it's ending around 5pm. And my neighborhood is 60% Mexican. Do the math. I leave my building to go home with a GIANT RIP UP MY ASS with half of Mexico on the train with me. I think I need something to drink. Now.

My mother

This will be the first of what I can only imagine will be many posts. I know that I claim to be hilarious, but there are also a lot of funny people in my life, my mother being one of them. Her hilarity is always unintentional, which only makes her funnier. Additionally, my mother does not function (at all) in the morning until at least two cups of coffee. Ah, the set up for disaster...

My mom, dad, and I are sitting in a nice restaurant in Chicago on Saturday morning for brunch. Mom has only had one cup of coffee and it was hotel room-brewed freeze-dried coffee at that. The following is the conversation that ensued.

Waiter: Good morning, how are you all doing today? Can I get coffee or something else to drink for everyone?
Mom (grumbling): Coffee
Dad: Coffee for me too.
Waiter: Cream? Black?
Mom: Cream.
Dad: I'm black.
Mom: You don't look black to me.

No more pennies for me

When my brother was in Boy Scouts, they had this "penny thing" that they did. In the morning, each good little Cub/Boy/Eagle Scout put a penny in his right pocket. It was there to remind him to do a good dead for the day. As soon as he did that deed, he moved the penny over to his left pocket. Kind of a nice little trick to remind you to care about others, right? Well, I don't have a job and cannot afford to throw pennies around like, well, pennies. Besides the point. I like the idea of doing good on a daily basis and try to incorporate that into my life (when I remember).

Anyway, I was walking down the street yesterday and saw a wallet on the ground. It was one of those Velcro wallets we all had in the 5th grade to put our babysitting and allowance money in. It was also camouflage. I looked down at it and thought "There's no way anyone is missing this wallet. There is nothing of importance in there." As I walked a few feet further, I felt guilty about passing it by; there could be a lot of money in the Velcro wallet (yeah right) that someone needed or, more heart breaking, some kid had lost his first wallet and he was really upset.

So, I looked like the idiot on the street who turns around as I walked back down the sidewalk towards the wallet. I bent over to pick it up and turned it over in my hand so that the Velcro was facing me and I could open it. As I turned it over, I noticed a couple brown spots on the front (if you ask me, not very camouflage if you can see DIRT on it) but thought nothing of it.

As I unfolded the Velcro, something didn't seem quite right. The wallet didn't pop open like I had expected, it was sticking. With the Velcro now undone, I started to peel the wallet open and realized within milliseconds that there was shit in the wallet. Now when I say shit, I don't mean it was empty and I had wasted 30 seconds of my life on a good deed to open a wallet to find nothing; I mean literally, there was SHIT in the wallet. I didn't have to open it more than an eighth of an inch to realize I had been duped. I think I may have yelled a profanity or two as I threw the wallet down onto the grass and walked away.

I didn’t see any kids snickering in the windows behind me but if they’re out there, I’m sure they aren’t Boy Scouts.

What happens when Bobby partakes in dollar drink night

Ah, drunken communication. Whether it be an e-mail, voicemail, or im, it never fails to be hilarious. Thank you Bobby, for last night's fantastic conversation. Amongst the spatterings of "uoj'ire hot", "usre neaitutofi;" and "o likre uoi're hair" there were a few other gems I wanted to share because well, they're absolutely hilarious.

orangeBC: I think my head just we,l on tha keypaod

orangeBC: nny cameltowe itches

orangeBC: if e'd kissyt girls when i was 16, ud' br myt firsty chosie
orangeBC: soemtimes i crry at night because my frist kiss was some bitch from michigan andddd noty you
orangeBC: but still
orangeBC: i'm rdurnk now and I still wouldn't kiss alan
orangeBC: but TYOY did!!!!

yip23: ok, i'm going to get ready for bed, unless you have more funny things to say to me
orangeBC: me thunny things
orangeBC: i 've nothing of the sotrt
orangeBC: id' rather draw di ks on thomas's face

orangeBC: you're a beautfiul girl
yip23: thanks bobby
yip23: i'll talk to you soon
orangeBC: you're as beautiful girl
orangeBC: nice boobs too
orangeBC: and lips
yip23: thanks
yip23: you've told me that already
orangeBC: you're the total package
yip23: haha
yip23: thanks
orangeBC: like lezx luger
yip23: lex luther?
yip23: superman's nemesis?
orangeBC: no
orangeBC: ]lex luger wasa wrestler
yip23: oh
yip23: the total package
orangeBC: yes!
yip23: well, thanks for comparing me to a wrestler
orangeBC: you're way hottter
orangeBC: he's a drug attict

orangeBC: you have nice lips too
orangeBC: like face lips
yip23: face lips?
orangeBC: not puss lipe
orangeBC: I haven't seen them
yip23: hahahahaha
orangeBC: probably won't
yip23: oh my god
orangeBC: jewgod~!
orangeBC: vecayse you believe in a jew god
orangeBC: goodnight

orangeBC: is away at 11:49:42 PM.
yip23: goodnight
Auto response from orangeBC: i live jewgods and hen allen's hot boobs

Ah, the memories

The annual 2623 holiday party was on Saturday. It was great to see all of my friends and I'm pretty sure that I had a good time, but don't remember about 3 hours of the night. I didn't hear any embarrassing stories about me, so I must have kept all of my clothes on, unlike that one episode of "Step by Step" when Dana got drunk and took her shirt off while dancing on a coffee table. I attempted to piece the night back together by talking to my friends and looking at pictures, but am still at a loss.

I think this picture sums things up pretty well.

Roommate idiosyncrasies

Now, I don't want to put up some laundry list of how much my roommate sucks, because he doesn't. But, he does do some weird things that deserve mentioning. I only hope to discover more soon.

1. He never poops. Let me take that back, he wants me to think that he never poops. The toilet seat is ALWAYS up. Now, this is by no means a complaint about that because I could give a shit (hahahaha, no pun intended) but it is up ALL the time. No matter how long he is in the bathroom for, no matter how badly it smells, he puts the seat back up. I have a dad and a brother and I have never experienced this before. And isn't is usually GIRLS that pretend they don't poop?

2. He takes ridiculously long showers. Now, there are some people who pamper themselves in the shower but I could shampoo, condition, wash, AND shave my hairy legs in the time that he takes to shower. Maybe he has a similar routine, you think? No, he does not. He uses 2-in-1 shampoo and a bar of soap. His disposable razors are kept in the medicine cabinet. (Plus he's 20, he doesn't sprout much facial hair). My only guess is that he's choking one off, which makes me want to wear flip flops into my own shower.

That's all I have for now, only two. Maybe he'll get weirder.

...and I don't even speak Spanish

Seeing as how I do not (yet) have a daytime job, I watch a lot of television. Yes, I know, I am really furthering my education...leave me alone. Anyway, one can only take so much "Jerry Springer" and "Passions." (After three days, all of the episodes look the same.)

During one of my daily channel-surfing episodes, I came across the Spanish channel. Now, I do not speak Spanish, so why did I keep the Spanish Channel after completing auto-scan, you may wonder? Well, my roommate, who doesn't know Spanish either, thinks that the girls are hot. No joke. He made us keep it as one of the 15 channels that we have, because the girls on TV, whom he doesn't UNDERSTAND, are hot. I don't want to know...I usually pass over the Spanish Channel because, as hot as the chicks are, I have no idea what's going on (and no desire to watch hot chicks, unlike my roommate. I know, I know, I should be more adventurous.)

Anyway, back to my channel-surfing session...
32--Jerry Springer--I went to a taping and never want to watch this show again. No.
34--Spanish Televangelist--I can't understand him and if I did, wouldn't agree with what he is saying. No.
38--Boring Asian movie with English subtitles--What the fuck?! No.
44--Spanish game show--Ugh, I can't believe my roommate makes me keep this damn chan-WAIT. Yes!

Now, I can only describe as best as I can what transpired on the television in front of me. I searched the Internet for HOURS looking for a still photo or video clip so I could put it here, but found nothing. Anyway, here I go. It will not be HALF as funny as it if you see it, but I'll try. There are two teams who compete against one another in various competitions, blah blah blah, someone wins. I don't know Spanish, I don't get the rules. Now, I came into the middle of this and just figured it out (I know, I'm really smart), but I'm going to go step-by-step here because well, you can't watch it and laugh like I did.

The Red Team is up first. All of the members have foam helmets, knee pads, and elbow pads. They have two minutes to fill up a bin full of water on the opposite side of the stage. (Whichever team fills up the bucket with the most water wins. Duh, right?) They take turns carrying a bucket of water in each hand. Sounds kind of easy, huh? I don't need to understand Spanish to enjoy this! But, they don't just run from one side of the stage to the other. The five Red Team members stand on a platform about four feet above the ground. There is a 30 foot tarp at the top of the platform that they have to cross with their buckets of water before reaching the other side, sliding down a foam wedge, crossing the floor, and dumping their water into the bin. Ok, still not that bad. But wait, there's more. The tarp, wedge, and floor leading up to the bin are slippery. I'm not talking tube socks on a newly waxed floor slippery, this is slip-n-slide with soap, olive oil, and Crisco slippery. Ah, hilarity. But it doesn’t stop there. Now, American game shows of this nature don't care about the other team while they're not competing. But that Spanish Channel, they really like getting everyone involved. The Yellow Team is lying under the tarp with their feet up in the air KICKING the underside of the tarp. So, here is the scenario...

Red Team member #1 picks up two full buckets of water. The timer starts, 2:00, the Yellow Team starts pumping their legs, water splashes up from the tarp, and #1 starts running. BOOM! Down, off the tarp and onto the padded floor. 1:58. #2 picks up two buckets, makes it past one set of feet, then BOOM! Down just like #1. 1:54. #3 gets their water, and makes in onto the tarp. BOOM! Down, but not off. He shuffles across the tarp on his butt, holding the buckets straight out on either side of him. He's halfway down the tarp on his ass, bumping up and down, when all of the sudden, BOOM, onto the floor. 1:47. #4 is up. He face plants onto the tarp, then head first onto the floor (THAT'S what those foam helmets are for!) before the clock gets anywhere. 1:46. #5 gets going and makes it about halfway and then BOOM, falls onto his stomach. But #5 is relentless. He shimmies across the tarp on his stomach while getting kicked in the face, stomach, and I can only imagine what else and makes it to the end! OHMYGODTHISISSOEXCITING! He goes head first down the wedge, stands up, and starts to run across the floor to dump the water from his buckets into the bin. #5 thinks he's in the homestretch, but alas, the Spanish Channel is all about packing as much as they can into the punch. The floor between the wedge and the bin is slipperier than the tarp! He's on his ass as soon as he stands up. He finally gets to the bin to dump his water in. He tips the buckets upside down and NOTHING comes out. How anticlimactic. After all that hard work he has nothing to show for it! 1:30. #1 is up again. As if this couldn't get any funnier, the Spanish Channel figured out how to kick it up a notch by adding sound effects! With every slip, fall, face plant, and head landing, there is an exuberant "BOING" in the background. The next minute and a half is the same thing over and over again. Sometimes they get water in the bin but most of the time they don't even make it down the tarp.

The buzzer tells the Red Team at 0:00 that time is up, and boy are they ready for it to be; they look exhausted. The Yellow Team slides out from under the tarp and straps on their foam helmets as the Red Team lines up under the tarp, sticks their legs up into the air, and gets ready to go.

For now, I think I'll keep the Spanish Channel.

My Friends in Tampa

A lot of you have heard this story from last year, but I found it in an old e-mail & thought I'd throw it up here. It's not funny at all, just kind of unbelievable. Plus, it illustrates what a dumbass I am when I've been drinking.
- - - - -
Last New Year’s Eve, I was in Tampa for the Outback Bowl to watch the Badgers lose to the Georgia Bulldogs. After a long night of drinking at the bars to ring in 2005, we were finally kicked out around 3am. I was walking down the street looking for a cab to go back to the hotel with about 15 of my friends. All of the sudden I hear this girl screaming "Let go of me!" and "Leave me alone!" I look over and see a guy behind her bear-hugging her and dragging her around. There are people everywhere who do nothing; I realize I am in this alone. In my drunken state, my adrenaline takes over. I run across the street and start yelling at him to put her down and leave her alone. He pays no attention to me as he pulls her around to the side of a building and puts his hands up around her neck, screaming obscenities in her face. His friend stands back and watches, and I figure he is my only option. I start yelling at the friend to get him off of her. He is finally able to pull him away. As they leave, the guy comes back and kicks her really hard in the leg. They run away as she collapses and starts crying even harder.

I’m able to get her up and sit her down on the sidewalk. I calm her down a bit and start thinking about what to do and where she can go. I learn that Brandi had just moved from Colorado two weeks prior to live with “D” and didn’t know anyone else in Tampa. Awesome. I convince her to come with me down the block to talk with my friends and figure something out. Unfortunately, as we start walking, I look down the street and don't see anyone that I know. I am hit with panic. I am in a not-so-great neighborhood of a city I just got to THAT day, drunk, with NO money, at about 3 o'clock in the morning, with a girl whose boyfriend just beat her up. I finally spot two of my guy friends. (Turns out the group realized I was missing after they hailed a cab, so these guys stayed behind.) As we’re contemplating the police, (which she vehemently opposed) shelters, etc., D comes back. As I see him walking up, I realize the situation I have gotten myself into. He has cornrows in his hair, an oversized jersey, and copious amounts of bling. I take a look at Brandi and realize she’s dressed straight out of a Ricki Lake “You Stole my Baby’s Daddy” Episode. She’s wearing a white pleather mini skirt, a lace-up corset, hoop earrings the size of cds, and greasy curls down her back.

D comes back, crying and apologizing profusely to Brandi. Being on the drunken adrenaline-fueled crusade that I’m on, I get in his face and tell him he needs to leave. Somewhere in the back of my head, I kept telling myself that he wouldn’t hurt me. I am adamant about Brandi coming with me and not dealing with him until the next day. D is all over the place, yelling at me one minute about how it’s not my business and I’m a bitch, then telling me that he respects me and what I’m doing. I’m in no mood to deal with his bullshit. My guy friends come up and try to separate us, which only makes matters worse because D starts threatening them and accusing Brandi of wanting to go home with them. This goes back and forth for minutes, until I finally think I have convinced them both that Brandi is coming with me for now and they can talk in the morning. All is well; D starts to walk away. I turn to Brandi to discuss hailing a cab when she says that she has some friends at a bar on the next block. Before I can respond, she’s gone. I don’t see her anywhere, but see D running down the block. All of the sudden, there is a squad car stopped in the street in front of me. My adrenaline rushes out of my body and I am back into a state of complete drunkenness, babbling incoherently about the ordeal, unable to remember Brandi’s name or detailed descriptions. My friends and I finally get a cab back to the hotel around 4:00.

Useless technology

I refuse to buy a camera phone. I think they're pointless and a waste of money but unfortunately for me, non-camera phones are becoming few and far between. I don't need it to snap drunken pictures of my friends at the bars; I can use a regular camera for that. However, there are passing moments in my life when I wish I had invested in one so that I could inconspicuously snap a picture and be off.

Take today, for instance. I was walking down the hallway in the train station and as I turned the corner, almost bumped into a man in a wheelchair. I look at this grossly overweight man and see his head slumped over. I think for a moment he must be dead, but see him move slightly and realize he is only sleeping. So, quick recap- there is a man sleeping in a wheelchair in the train station next to a wall. Nothing unusual, practically expected during rush hour. Upon closer inspection though, I realize that he is PLUGGED into an outlet.

If only I had my camera phone, I could have taken a picture of the sleeping man who plugged the battery pack of his wheelchair into the wall at the train station in downtown Chicago.