WTF?
In 1999, after a couple of years fiddling with that blogging thing on various other people's domains, I thought I had enough things to say to merit my very own corner of this here interweb. In 2007, I suddenly ran out of ammo. Thankfully, that didn't last forever... So, I'm back. Still not dead yet. Like a phoenix from the ashes. Behold.
recently :: 08.10
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latest flickrings
November 27, 2003
:: Gobble gobble ::
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! What are you thankful for, this year? Here, I'll get you started:
- I've got a whole bunch of my favorite people coming over today to hang out and eat and drink and be merry.
- Nikola got his green card, against all odds. I would have missed him desperately.
- My life is taking on a whole new shape, and if I play my cards right it will be a shape that I really and truly love.
How about you?
November 24, 2003
:: Pitchers! ::
Well, the photo section is finally up, sort of - it's there, but there's still not much content. What with the upcoming holidays and the general sort of ongoing whirlwind that my life's become of late, though, I have no doubt I'll be able to remedy that in fairly short order. So check it, folks. Use the link in the header, or click here for today's entry...
November 22, 2003
:: dive-o-rama ::
Phineas and I discovered a new (well, new to us, anyway) late night hangout last night. It's completely tragic in the best possible way. the jukebox is full of, as phin put it, roller skating music (hall & oates *and* american pie - what could possibly be better?); the clientele wear entire outfits - nay, getups - devoted to the noble sport of auto racing; the smoke hangs thicker in the air than the fog that hid Jack the Ripper from his victims; and the linoleum and faux wood panelling remind one of the rec room at Uncle Jerry's, circa 1975. There's even a pool table, and Old Style on tap - 3 taps, to be exact. Heaven? Let's just say it's Almost Paradise. Welcome to the Blue Light.
November 21, 2003
:: spotted ::
The suspected kidnapping victims went missing sometime between the hours of one and three on Wednesday afternoon, according to Bob Fowler, Accounting Associate at Jesser and Farber in downtown Chicago. "I saw them both at lunch, but when I looked for them at snack-time they were gone," Fowler told authorities early in the evening. The victims are both about five inches in height and three in diameter. Distinguishing marks include matching day-glo orange price tags marked $1.59. Any and all information regarding this case should be forwarded to the Chicago Police non-emergency hotline.
Little did they know that the 'suspected kidnapping victims' had simply tired of their meaningless corporate existence and eloped. I spotted them around 7 p.m., at the corner of Monroe and Wacker. Half-eaten but far from beaten, they waited patiently for the bus.
November 15, 2003
:: Triple Fire ::
Yes, I know the Red Wings were in town (4-3 in O/T - thanks, boys, but did we really have to make it that close?), but tonight I opted for the Fire game instead. First off, the pregame in the concourse was eventful - Coz regaled us with a fabulous set of tunes from the 80s and 90s...
...while Sparky, the Fire mascot (also known as 'dalmation suit guy') alternately tried to dance with us (we weren't dancing) and mocked Coz mercilessly. As Coz aptly put it, "Hey, I'm still playing the stage at Soldier Field!" I don't think I was supposed to mention which stage.
The game itself was a good deal more tense than we would have liked - what with the myriad scoring opps in the first half and the many many (I lost count at 7) corner kicks in the second half, it was hard for us to imagine that the game wasn't won until halfway through the first period of overtime.
Even more distressing was the part where yours truly got clocked in the jaw by a flagpole. Yeah, you heard right: some drunk-ass dude got a hold of one of the flags and was waving it over the crowd like he just didn't care. He dipped about 10 feet too low, and the pole actually dipped below my neck, only to snap back and hit me squarely across the right side of my jaw on the way back up. I'm hoping that a combination of the cold and the bourbon will keep the bruising at bay; if not, I'm going to look like I got in a bar fight. And shut up, you. It's not my style. (you should've seen the other guy...)
A good time was had by all, in the end, and there's still nothing quite as cool as 200+ people singing and chanting in unison, even if they're being led in said songs and cheers by a series of extremely drunk and often abusive eastern europeans...
Next week, the finals in LA. Go Fire!