Get it Tight Get it Right

Ye ole New Year's Resolutions. (Is the "R" in "Resolutions capitalized? That's an AP question maybe...not sure if we're there yet.) But yea, do you make 'em? Can you just randomly make up a resolution (this one's definitely not capitalized) mid-year and have it be as motivational to pretend-to-care-about, then just cast aside when your true self inevitably dominates your potential, and then you just go back to swearing too much, sleeping with the wrong people, eating poorly and late, or constantly burning the candle at both ends...not that any of those are my personal battles or anything. I don't know...I just was tired of slackin on my personal-growth-pimpin, so I have tried changing this failed approach (approach really means lacking approach) of over-resolution'ing // exager-resolutions. Ultimately, it's June, almost July, and mad shit is going down, so let's reflect.

Friends who have seemed stagnant for years, in the most "comfortable"-meaning way of the word and not its negatively-charged variant, are now marrying, having children, moving to different cities, taking on higher-level career positions, perfecting their arts, and generally mounting the big-cock of life, and that is pretty cool. I have been trying to get back into the swing of a daily routine and it is truly a challenge for me. Since you don't care about that, I'll tell you how that really relates to what I'm getting at...resolutions are hilarious & totally telling about what types of cock-climbing you actually plan to tally up in the forthcoming year. And now that we're halfway through this bonedown, I figure it's time to evaluate if we've really stuck with those buggers like we said we would. What was your resolution? Have you followed through?

My main goal for 2011 was inspired my younger-than-me, but still teaches-me-so-much pal, Ms. Emily Rose. "Get your money right 2011" has been in full effect, and I am on a full hustle all the time. Getting results definitely inspires perseverance in all things arduous. I have more jobs than Nicki Minaj and I'm cool with that when I check my ledger. Keep in mind, I have normally had $zero.nothing in said ledger, so one should not assume me muggable- as my frame of reference is kinda homeless.

Did you decide to diet? Or travel more? Or lock it up with your special someone? Did you listen to that one song by Aaliyah and Timbaland, about a Resolution? Did you make a-mental-mends with your old neighbor, who's kind of a dick about watering his lawn too much but he's still not that bad of a dude, but you probably don't want to get stuck with him at a cookout?

I guess I'm asking...have you done what you said you were going to do? That, above all, is what people should generally do, I believe. I'm following through. Try it if you're not. You'll actually accomplish something and it feels good. Next for me-get some sweet skills: gardening, keyboard times(Swan let's do this), buying & wearing sunhats, NPO fundraising... and I'm putting this shit on fake-paper so, ...I guess I have to step it up now. TRY IT...it's kind of fun. Get it tight-get it right in 2011.5.

Top Six Reasons to Get Weird up in that Electric Forest (Electric Forest Festival, Rothbury, Michigan, June 30-July 3)

Here's some thoughts I have on Rothbury, Michigan's upcoming Electric Forest Festival over Fourth of July weekend:

http://www.chicagonow.com/blogs/lists-that-actually-matter/2011/05/top-six-reasons-to-get-weird-up-in-that-electric-forest-electric-forest-festival-rothbury-michigan-june-30-july-3.html

See you out there, champs.

My a-button is busted.

Lately I've been thinking about how annoying technology is. I mean, it also helps, too; I'm not on Walden Pond over here, but seriously...it's so demanding. It's like nannying for your reputation. Constant supervision upon your vulnerable, digital self... especially when it comes to work and Stalkernet, and worse when they're entwined. Sweet 5-hour delay to untag that picture of you bonging a beer in your bra at age 27; sure no one saw it, nor did it show up for your old boss/aunts/former campers to see. I mean, it's not really a big deal, but 10 years ago this crap wouldn't have happened, and you had to ..God-forbid.. actually get to know someone before judging them as a completely insane boozehound. also, sweet job having to check e-mail all the freaking time. at work, or in real life, mad heads are over-e-mailing and I just can't handle it. People get so salty if you're delayed in response, or even take it personally if you just haven't even seen their correspondence yet; but don't tell them that you haven't seen it yet either, or you'll just look irresponsible.

We're held so accountable... and for what? Charlie biting his stupid finger again? Boss singing the Lumberg-song asking for just a little bit more of your time or effort or... lack of apathy? Once at my shitty desk I spit on my monitor. Like a llama or whatever, just loug'd on my screen out of anger; like it was not inanimate, or as though a chump on the street (like a chump, heyyy, like a chump heyyy). I had to mail all these uninformative, wasteful packets of Marketing garbage to Switzerland and I stapled something wrong or something. Can you even staple something wrong? I mean ... these papers...they're not separate now, they seem pretty attached. Must have misunderstood what stapling was. I got FIVE emails about the mis-staple. FIVE. Two were from the same Bimbo. This one old lady in the office slept at her desk (real)...like, all the time. They've probably scolded her via e-mail like 50 times but she always had her eyes closed so she probably thought everything was just fine. and wouldn't it be better that way? Not having your eyes closed, but, not having to slave to your Outlook or your Gmail or your Gchat or your sparkly Myspace emoticons? I don't know, maybe it's just me, but it's so annoying. I think some people actually like the constant accessibility...so different strokes, I guess. I quickly started getting inspiration from that old nap-taking-lady, and I kind of realized it's easier to just not care. Well, that's how most things are, I suppose. I think it's Microsoft's fault for offering a snooze option in Outlook, et al; (insert bad office joke here).

But even when we don't care, it still gets complicated. (are we talking about technology here?) Like right now, I have to cut & paste every "a" I type. My a-button is broken (so is my "_-ray" button for that matter, but "_" is a more manageable atrocity). Its taken me at least twelve years to get all these thoughts jotted down, what with my normal keystroke as smooth as the skin on Mavis Beacon's newborn behind, and this new method of typing being as punctuated.as.meticulously.as.a.Dickinson.sonnet. So, please e_cuse my lack of capitalization when it comes to a's, but it's been a tough run, and this will be the last thing I write before sending this old-piece-of-shit computer via snail-mail to California or someplace to get fi_ed. Wish me luck* for both our sakes.

<<*Once in college something else dumb happened to my computer and I brought it to Best Buy's Geek Squad to fi_ it, and without asking me before doing so, they mailed it to...somewhere. I, of course, had nothing backed up, and -no joke- my computer got lost at sea. I lost all my writing, music, pictures, and other stuff you save. WHaT YEaR IS THIS?! I wasn't aware that was possible what with Magellan, the invention of GPS and... all the technology we're responsible for monitoring in the first place. BEST BUY-- I'm gonna need you to go ahead and come in on Saturdaaaay.>>

"UYD: Never Dodge a Load"

When I worked at my shitty desk, I listened to serious amounts of podcasts. I downloaded tons of NPR Shows, The Economist, a few musically-driven diatribes against autotuned-modernity central to Grateful Dead, Stevie Ray Vaughan, and The Allman Brothers amongst other folks, and of course some Onion stuff. Aside from Ira Glass (This American Life: Chicago Public Radio), however, I always really only had two dudes' voices streaming in my ears at all times as I analyzed data and felt like at any second I'd instinctively start picking out fleas from my coworkers' hair.

There's two bros out in California who are really funny. You might recognize one from his namesake, and the other from the teeny-bopper classic film, Crossroads, but you'll remember them best by their banter together if you give it a listen. Uhh Yeah Dude is comprised of Jonathan Larroquette and Seth Romatelli, respective to their earlier descriptions. Taglined, "America through the Eyes of Two American Americans," the Dudes mock their way through a weekly hour of jest-induced topical discussions including how fat America is, how ridiculous Craigslist is, and how horrible Florida is as a state. If you really love Florida, you might hate them. Sorry, Krise. They rip on Florida's citizens, lawmakers, laws, criminals, backwoods marshnecks, athletes, and just about everything dumb it does... and there is A TON OF DUMB SHIT that they do.

The other segment that really stiffens my puddy-bun is "Craig's House," where Seth reads actual Craigslist ads listed as "Men Seeking Women." Here's the secret: they always end up being married men seeking other men, denying their sexuality, and virtually looking for other dudes to come yank on their parts and blow huge pent-up-marriage loads on their faces. Actual example: "My wife is dumb. Who wants to drain two months worth of spunk-sauce out of this jackhammer? My wife doesn't. I'm so ready for some man-action; get at me." I mean that is hilarious. Normally those type of entries end with something like, "NO GAY SHIT." I mean... can you get any more gay? Truthsmack: If people could just own up to their sexualities, or not be ashamed of who they are, then this wouldn't be funny. If you were just reading these ads, it might come off more disturbing or less funny, just because you probably have a soul. It's not the ads, it's the neuroses behind them; it's the American way.

Having said that, I think I like these guys because they're never really making fun of something that...isn't funny. Normally they're more just calling people out for their bullshit; i.e. a married man seeking gay love and tagging on "no homo" or even making fun of Jonathan himself for being a "vegan" and always eating cheese. Laughing at our societal insecurities is 100 % beneficial and necessary. I mean we, as a country, are totally mental, and why shouldn't that be joyful? As some cool side-effects of tuning in, you'll probably pick up some current events to share when you awkwardly just don't know what else to say at a work function or family event, and you'll probably be introduced to some good music since Jonathan bookends each episode with a track of his choosing. Also a musician, Larroquette performs with friend Amir Yaghmai in electronic duo, Jogger. In fact, they opened up for friend and touted experimental electro-risktaker, Daedelus, at Kinetic Playground about a year ago, and it was lots of fun. (Duh I went, are you even reading this? J.L. was really chill and we laughed about rave kids for awhile before he got yanked to the bar to be showered w free booze from fellow UYD fans.)

As Seth's oft-caustic and very funny take on society harmonizes so naturally with Jonathan's freethinking positivity and hilarious personal allegories, the affable personality of UYD continues to spread laughter as it approaches its five-year anniversary on February 11, 2011. To you, UYD, I say thank you, for getting me through so many muted conference calls, squish-faced train-rides, boring webinars, and airport travels alike. It's not prude, kinda rude, and it's definitely great for both dames and dudes. Please, please keep it coming; I'll never dodge your load.

**Subscribe for free here. If you like funny stuff, you won't regret it. Shout out to Logan Wiles for introducing me some amount of years ago.**

équilibre

Bravery
Adventure
Loneliness
Altruism
Neuroses
Consciousness
Ego



Jean Louis Forain
French, 1852-1931 //
Tight-Rope Walker, c. 1885 //
Oil on canvas
18 1/8 x 15 in. (46.2 x 38.2 cm)

I am drawn to this painting because the ballerina, often a symbol of femininity and elegant dexterity, maintains an equilibrium above a crowd of people so engulfed in their own personal missions that they don't even notice the grace displayed upon a mere upward glance. Maybe if we take a minute to recognize another person's composure once in awhile, we could learn something. Not to get deep, but someone else's personal equilibrium and collectedness presented on the daily can sometimes be an inspiration for achieving our own, whether it is realized or not. Be kind to a stranger today; their problems could be worse than yours. If they don't complain about them, may their grace be noticed and smiled upon, as it once just tiptoed over our heads without appreciation. If this rings true for someone you know, thank them or give them a hug. It could offer perseverence on both ends of embrace, and if we can't help each other, what's the point?

Dwindler's Lists

Due to a pretty busy last month-or-so, I've not been posting as much as I'd like. My time seems to be running away as if it's in a boozey, stressed out hourglass. Note: actual hourglasses scare the shit out of me. I think it's the childhood affinity for Wizard of Oz and fear of the Wicked Witch. She melted away like my dwindling time as of late, and both cases are worthy of spooks. In lieu of using higher brain power, and for practice for some other writing-goodies I'm weighing out and bagging up elsewhere, I have some lists to share with you and yours* (*intellect, privates, pets, loved ones...but probably not moms unless they're Roseanne-y). Feel free to smear your own shit-lists in the comments, or just mutter them to yourself if you feel no one else cares. That's how I feel, but I'm a rebel like whoa, so I got this here blog to share. Sometimes when I write I feel like the old lady in Billy Madison; "are there any horse socks? is anybody listening to me?" Whatever, fuck yo couch, here's some crap anyway.

Things im currently into (and/or may or may not always be into):
1. turkey-pastrami. hands down the best lunch meat.
2. free beer
3. the dude who put himself in a balloon on tosh
4. champagne, especially the big guys
5. answering "i dont know, it must have been the roses" to any question
6. sandwich makers, props @ Antony Demekhin
7. Paul Simon: One Trick Pony on vinyl
8. sunny-ass november
9. fart machines
10. dunphy's, et al
11. making fun of people at beaumont's/continental on a tuesday at 3am...myself included, where applicable. there's two types of people at late-night bars: drunks and horndogs...some are both. play the guess-who's-who game with your friends, or just join in, that's more fun. that's also when you make fun of yourself. WIN/WIN/barf.
12. ben folds, all over again
13. friends (the people, not so much the show)
14. good dick attached to dudes with souls, brains, and/or homes.
15. hair-hanging (real life)
16. re-reading a box of notes received by me as a 14-yr-old tease. Winner: Sam Snedaker signing every note with a giant Wu symbol. I swooned.
17. calling stupid small dumb barkie dogs dickheads (b/c they don't speak English)
18. adverse plants.
19. black comedies with foot fetish references: 90% + guarantee.
20. iphone autocorrect. Pure comedy. Winner: tie. One great gal I won't name texting a friend, "I just got dos'd" (someone gave her acid for all you squarrs/nonwooks). Friend texts back, "are you having fun?" She responds, "yep," but types "yelp" and autocorrect hollers back with..."help." Phone dies. GOLD. Tie goes to Erin Cassato for trying to text "geez" and having it show up as "gems" ...because that's a thing; "gems, i know!"

Stuff that's dumb:
1. Right hand rings - fuck you, wear a ring wherever you want. people put them in their tits, a right hand is hardly alternative.
2. AT & T.
3. The dude's shake weight--FOR REAL!? It might be so dumb it's awesome. Not sure.
4. Assembling your own furniture. Seriously? After spending like, 100 Ikea bucks, which is relative to twenty normal bucks for quality purposes, I have to fuck up my shelves too? Talk about screwing the pooch.
5. Non-HD even being an option on HD tv's.
6. Misspelled sexts including: tuck, liss, stooge, and flooperman that snow.
7. The kid on Who's the Boss not being down w other dudes' manparts?
8. Birthday packaging. Ditch the ribbons and dumb wrapping paper, just buy me a pack of cigs if you want to throw your money in the toilet.
9. See-through advertisements for raking money out of lonely elderly. I may be a general asshole, but I love olds. Leave them alone, marketing thieves.
10. Blaming everything on your "generation." either get off your ass or don't, but don't blame it on your parents' youthful and arbitrary fuck patterns.

I love lists. For someone as freestylie as me on the mic that is life, it is a paradoxical kinship. As a wise woman once told me, when you jot a quick list, always start with tasks you've already accomplished so that you're always off to a good start. So next time when you find yourself burning a Manny Ramirez jersey in the street at 2 am, "getting resourceful" and making shots out of warm juice, sweet tarts, and old vodka, "knee" deep in the middle of a 3-way with good friends, sinking on a pontoon boat full of pals at 6 am- but being excited about "turning into a submarine," or batmanning out of the bar because you're just too drunk and can't tell, don't worry. It just means you'll have lots to cross off next time you make a list. Check!

blah-blah-blah-BLECHHHHHH!

I like making small talk about as much as I like the Entourage themesong. Let's get to the point; let's get to the Grenier-banging and partying. Same deal. The only "precursor-activity" that's worthwhile is either oral sex or maybe rolling j's before concerts. To me it's about the value. Orgasms and lighting up mid-floor during a Zeppelin cover offer lofty benefits simply not found in weather chit-chat or some raggedy-ass second-grade picture of your kid. I used to be able to fake giving-a-fuck, but it seems my distaste for mundanities has surpassed falsified politeness.

I ran into this bro from an old job on the train last week at about 8 a.m. and it was just awful. Murderous, even. Like, the kind where I wanted to murder myself just to escape. He wouldn't stop talking about sales goals and business hierarchies to which I never even really paid attention to when I worked with him, let alone on this hotass morning while I'm curdling booze through my system and trying to get in some good tunes before sidling up to my dumb desk** all day. **I know I keep saying this. It really is a very stupid desk. It's a shitty old monitor propped up on an OfficeMax paper lid. Guess who propped it up? Me. Myself. I had to crawl and put wires back into the right spots in the back. I mean...this couldn't be stupider.**

Amidst this suited auto-drabble, I wondered some things. As he swirled his always-be-closing hypnoses into my eyes, did this dude pick up my yearning to vomit apathetic bile upon his small doilie in that weird pocket? Stifled in my esophogous, each mention of commission tiers or outbound calls curdled the yellow liquids and they started to surface. I focused on Old-Man-Mural as we departed DePaul as if it was the horizon, and tried to calm my disgruntled insides. We swept south from Fullerton and it was my turn to talk. Great. I had soooo much to say and my iPod was so not dangling from one-ear. You know the one-ear move. The, if-I-just-leave-one-earbud-in-they'll-only-talk-for-just-a-minute-and-get-the-hint-...-oh-shit-they're-not-stopping, blues.

I told him about my shitty desk and said I was "keeping busy." As if idle hands really were the devil's playground, he literally patted me on the back, and just like a baby over Momma's shoulder, I felt the upheaval en route. Full-knowing that I worked downtown and since we were only approaching the Armitage stop, he weird-waved goodbye to me as I burst through the train-doors, exiting like a salmon in a mid-Autumn rush to drop eggs against the current, and completely barfed everywhere. Like...everywhere.

I tried to find a trash can, but they all had those pointless caps on top. I started to revolt last night's conventions into one at first and got legitimately sprayed back in the face, to which, i just lost my shit. Barftown, all over this platform. I spun dizzily to catch a breath and balance over the railing at the edge of the deck, only to go for just a few more rounds of bile-dislodging. Don't worry, the construction site below wasn't populated yet because it was too early, but those gents had a real treat coming their way when they showed up strapped in.

The most revealing part of why I'm fucked up, is that I thought the worst part of all of this is that, in the aftermath, since I was going South to get to work and bailed off my ride, I was on the WRONG SIDE OF THE PLATFORM to go home. Duh, I wasn't going to work. I had puke in my own weird pocket (sans-doilie). Truth be told, and small-talk aside, I hated this stupid monkey-job and I saw this as a clear opportunity to go home, pack it up, and watch Bill and Ted.

I called off work, and it ruled. Not long thereafter my contract expired and I decided not to go full-time since ... well, obviously I didn't belong there. They fucking loved small-talk there. When the job->drinking -> hangovers ->small talk induces vomiting -> calling off work ->happiness...i think we can just skip the middle-man altogether and go straight to drinking and happiness. Well, a girl can dream. I'm poor as shit! But I don't have to talk about the Accounting lady's son's first gay pride parade (snoozer), Millie's cat (dumb), or (no shit)"how awesome Chicago summer is" with nerds, and that alone is worth its weight in gold. Auf Wiedersehen, small talk; you've always been an asshole.