Ooops!
I haven't been a very good Suicide Girl Boy lately. I've had a friend in town and work has been busy, so I haven't had much time to respond to ya'll.
Friday to today goes something like this:
Friday, work (per usual) and ending the day with office construction to provide space and ammenities for new hires. Oh yea, beer.
Saturday, set up the books on the computer (grand fun) awaited friends from afar. Josh and Tamra show up first and we share more beer and conversations of the old days. Crocker -- my partner in mayhem -- arrives by train and we go pick him up.
The night starts with a high-five as he jumps in the back seat -- while we wait in the middle of the intersection; cabs and normal cars alike honk and yell.
It has begun.
And off we go to the bar. Skylark first, for the initial saturation, then off to Jim's to grab a polish. Damn, that shit is gooooood. Anyway, we eat and I get mouthy with some street hustler selling porn and pirated movies on the street, and then we go on to Exit.
(Where else would I take two "ex-punk" out-of-towners???)
Drinking ensues for, oh, the entire duration of Exit being open. Suzy joins us soon after arriving and we meet a collection of new friends. Josh and Tamara, being the married couple, head out around 2 or so, but the rest of us stay. Crocker and I end up leaving (okay, I practically had to carry him away he was so drunk) just before close and head to Hollywood (duh).
We enjoy our meal and Crocker heads to the bathroom before we decide to leave. He comes back completely freaked out:
Dude, we gotta go.
Why?
Dude, we just gotta go... I just had a knife put to my chest
WHAT?!
Yea, man... lets just get out of here. Fuck this! I just came to Chicago to vacation, what the fuck? Not this shit!
Dude, are you serious?!
Yes! Lets just go!
Fuck that, man! Lets go find this mother fucker!
Yea. Let's go find the guy with a knife! What a great idea.
Anyway, we head back to the back and I try to encourage Crocker to point this guy out so I can beat his face in. Five minutes or so pass to no avail, so I give up and decide it was best we hop in a cab.
Sunday, we head to Inkin Lincoln -- which totally fucking sucked. I talked to corninks wife briefly; purportedly won some major brownie points by knowing my nieces diaper size; buy an awesome baby beater for her; and venture on. We stayed for about 30 minutes, including a visit to the cafeteria for food and to watch the end of the Bears game (which totally slipped my mind). It took us about an hour to get there.
We ended up heading down to that new AMC/Bowling place to watch The 40 Year Old Virgin, which was a fucking riot. I generally hate stupid comedy pieces, but I actually loved that movie. It even had a plot! We ended up heading to Redfish for some Cajun food (in respect of NOLA, of course) where I ordered the sweetest/tartest alcoholic beverage Ive ever had in my life and tried to filter through it and a contrasting spicy plate.
We decide to call the night short and head back to the place to drink some beer and watch a movie. Not paying attention, I have us waiting on the Northbound train, the wrong one; something I didnt realize until the train on the right side started to board. We run up and over but it was too late. The next train finally came and, as I was boarding, I realized I left the kick-ass baby wife beater at Redfish. DOH!
Monday, well Monday started off reaaaally bad. I had to work in the morning, and decided to take a shower to not smell bad. My illustrator warned me that an apartment manager would be calling to verify employment for this apartment he totally fell in love with, so when the phone rang, I immediately thought oh shit! I run to the phone and just as I see MGMT on the Caller ID, I hear Crocker answer Lakonic; I run into my office and Im all waving the phone like Ill take this, give it to me...! as I hear him say, No, hes in the shower right now; can I take a message?
FUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKK!!!!!
Okay, well we do have a shower in the office, but 1) its not a common amenity, 2) dont tell someone that calls that Im in it and 3) definitely not someone thats trying to validate whether or not this is a legitimate business. He might as well have answered, Vandelay Industries! I wasnt surprised when the employee called minutes later saying the guy thinks its an apartment because um, you were in the shower...? The next hour and a half was spent scrambling for whatever paperwork I could provide this guy to prove that he does, in fact, work here and makes money.
Half days suck the way it is, but holy fuck did I crunch a lot of work into a very little time. Still, we had to head to corninks shop -- so Crocker could get his first good tattoo (sure, the DKs tattoo is bitchin, but its bitchin in a bad sort of way) -- before we knew if things were settled. They prepare as I do a food run and sit for the rest of the session wishin 1) I was in the chair, 2) I was getting the piece and 3) god damn I am jealous! They finish up and we discuss my upcoming coloring sessions and off we go for take a guess beer. We down a couple Smithwicks and head back to the place so he can clean things up before a show.
I get tied down with a billion phone calls (I don't do that whole cellphone thing, so I usually have a lot of catching up to do when back near one), but we finally headed out to Subterranean: Scotland Yard Gospel Choir and The Rosebuds (who we were there to review).
Our client from Paperwork Media shows up as Scotland Yard takes stage and we all stood in disbelief as they freggin rocked the house! Rosebuds were somewhat of a disappointment, but it may have been due to the lacking fan base and poor sound. Show ends with a broken string and an acoustic sing-along melody that kind of revitalized my assessment, but we decided not to stick around much longer after that. Crockers drunk by this point, again. Really drunk. Post-tattoo drunk. (I get super human abilities to drink massive amounts without getting even a slight buzz after a tattoo, but he was definitely the opposite.)
We headed to Flash Taco (duh) for some Chimmy's (yes, we watched Meet the Focker's when we got back Sunday night) and caught Elia from SYGC there. Crocker explains how much he loved the band and shows that he bought their CD. Thats not ours, man... forcing Crocker to realize that he bought Le Concordes record instead. Dumbass.
After Taco, we scoured the alleyways of Wicker Park looking for a proper place to piss and eventually headed off to the train. On the way up the steps, Crocker somehow fell towards me and I ended up bashing his face with the heel of my foot. He blames me, saying my legs were flailing all over the placeyou fucking kicked me in the eye and then I fell but I think hes full of shit.
Regardless, he was obviously following too closely, so its completely his fault. We spent the next 30+ minutes in full, college student debate (you know ... the kind that use every big word theyve learned over the last few years to prove a point?), calling for third-party opinions and the whole nine.
Tuesday, we spent the full day doing work. Somehow I managed to get pulled into it, and Crocker managed to do a full-day towards our accounting. Good things there. I had been trying to think of something that could add or top the already crazy weekend, but decided a good old-fashioned cookout would suffice. So we went over to my sales guys place (who is an avid griller and has a nice balcony and view for Crocker to admire) and the night was lost through lots of food and beer. We were lucky enough to catch a cab right in front of his space, but the guy couldnt speak English, so took us towards North Catalpa or something instead of south on the Kennedy. Grrr.
Wednesday, we finished the accounting and some project works and headed downtown for the last bit of touristy shit. We go into Marshall (*ahem*) Fields (*ahem*) and the Cultural Center to see Tiffanys glass work, then over to the bean (which is finally open and polished, all but the underside). We hung out and its really a slow, wearing down, boring story, except for trying to convince him to be my CFO and while sitting at the bar sweating this girl came up in a sweater and a coat. I think shes a Satan spawn.
We finally walked over to Union Station, passing his CBOT holy grail along the way, and sat around the entrance for an hour or so screaming random words at commuters. FART BOX, UNFORTUNATE USED TAMPON, BOTOXED BONER you get the idea.
Time came to part ways, gave a hug and off he went. I walked over to Greektown and all is unimportant or forgotten after that.
Thursday, has been a super busy day, but I somehow found the time to make up for all of my non-submission or responses by writing a book which you probably wont read.
I haven't been a very good Suicide Girl Boy lately. I've had a friend in town and work has been busy, so I haven't had much time to respond to ya'll.
Friday to today goes something like this:
Friday, work (per usual) and ending the day with office construction to provide space and ammenities for new hires. Oh yea, beer.
Saturday, set up the books on the computer (grand fun) awaited friends from afar. Josh and Tamra show up first and we share more beer and conversations of the old days. Crocker -- my partner in mayhem -- arrives by train and we go pick him up.
The night starts with a high-five as he jumps in the back seat -- while we wait in the middle of the intersection; cabs and normal cars alike honk and yell.
It has begun.
And off we go to the bar. Skylark first, for the initial saturation, then off to Jim's to grab a polish. Damn, that shit is gooooood. Anyway, we eat and I get mouthy with some street hustler selling porn and pirated movies on the street, and then we go on to Exit.
(Where else would I take two "ex-punk" out-of-towners???)
Drinking ensues for, oh, the entire duration of Exit being open. Suzy joins us soon after arriving and we meet a collection of new friends. Josh and Tamara, being the married couple, head out around 2 or so, but the rest of us stay. Crocker and I end up leaving (okay, I practically had to carry him away he was so drunk) just before close and head to Hollywood (duh).
We enjoy our meal and Crocker heads to the bathroom before we decide to leave. He comes back completely freaked out:
Dude, we gotta go.
Why?
Dude, we just gotta go... I just had a knife put to my chest
WHAT?!
Yea, man... lets just get out of here. Fuck this! I just came to Chicago to vacation, what the fuck? Not this shit!
Dude, are you serious?!
Yes! Lets just go!
Fuck that, man! Lets go find this mother fucker!
Yea. Let's go find the guy with a knife! What a great idea.
Anyway, we head back to the back and I try to encourage Crocker to point this guy out so I can beat his face in. Five minutes or so pass to no avail, so I give up and decide it was best we hop in a cab.
Sunday, we head to Inkin Lincoln -- which totally fucking sucked. I talked to corninks wife briefly; purportedly won some major brownie points by knowing my nieces diaper size; buy an awesome baby beater for her; and venture on. We stayed for about 30 minutes, including a visit to the cafeteria for food and to watch the end of the Bears game (which totally slipped my mind). It took us about an hour to get there.
We ended up heading down to that new AMC/Bowling place to watch The 40 Year Old Virgin, which was a fucking riot. I generally hate stupid comedy pieces, but I actually loved that movie. It even had a plot! We ended up heading to Redfish for some Cajun food (in respect of NOLA, of course) where I ordered the sweetest/tartest alcoholic beverage Ive ever had in my life and tried to filter through it and a contrasting spicy plate.
We decide to call the night short and head back to the place to drink some beer and watch a movie. Not paying attention, I have us waiting on the Northbound train, the wrong one; something I didnt realize until the train on the right side started to board. We run up and over but it was too late. The next train finally came and, as I was boarding, I realized I left the kick-ass baby wife beater at Redfish. DOH!
Monday, well Monday started off reaaaally bad. I had to work in the morning, and decided to take a shower to not smell bad. My illustrator warned me that an apartment manager would be calling to verify employment for this apartment he totally fell in love with, so when the phone rang, I immediately thought oh shit! I run to the phone and just as I see MGMT on the Caller ID, I hear Crocker answer Lakonic; I run into my office and Im all waving the phone like Ill take this, give it to me...! as I hear him say, No, hes in the shower right now; can I take a message?
FUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKK!!!!!
Okay, well we do have a shower in the office, but 1) its not a common amenity, 2) dont tell someone that calls that Im in it and 3) definitely not someone thats trying to validate whether or not this is a legitimate business. He might as well have answered, Vandelay Industries! I wasnt surprised when the employee called minutes later saying the guy thinks its an apartment because um, you were in the shower...? The next hour and a half was spent scrambling for whatever paperwork I could provide this guy to prove that he does, in fact, work here and makes money.
Half days suck the way it is, but holy fuck did I crunch a lot of work into a very little time. Still, we had to head to corninks shop -- so Crocker could get his first good tattoo (sure, the DKs tattoo is bitchin, but its bitchin in a bad sort of way) -- before we knew if things were settled. They prepare as I do a food run and sit for the rest of the session wishin 1) I was in the chair, 2) I was getting the piece and 3) god damn I am jealous! They finish up and we discuss my upcoming coloring sessions and off we go for take a guess beer. We down a couple Smithwicks and head back to the place so he can clean things up before a show.
I get tied down with a billion phone calls (I don't do that whole cellphone thing, so I usually have a lot of catching up to do when back near one), but we finally headed out to Subterranean: Scotland Yard Gospel Choir and The Rosebuds (who we were there to review).
Our client from Paperwork Media shows up as Scotland Yard takes stage and we all stood in disbelief as they freggin rocked the house! Rosebuds were somewhat of a disappointment, but it may have been due to the lacking fan base and poor sound. Show ends with a broken string and an acoustic sing-along melody that kind of revitalized my assessment, but we decided not to stick around much longer after that. Crockers drunk by this point, again. Really drunk. Post-tattoo drunk. (I get super human abilities to drink massive amounts without getting even a slight buzz after a tattoo, but he was definitely the opposite.)
We headed to Flash Taco (duh) for some Chimmy's (yes, we watched Meet the Focker's when we got back Sunday night) and caught Elia from SYGC there. Crocker explains how much he loved the band and shows that he bought their CD. Thats not ours, man... forcing Crocker to realize that he bought Le Concordes record instead. Dumbass.
After Taco, we scoured the alleyways of Wicker Park looking for a proper place to piss and eventually headed off to the train. On the way up the steps, Crocker somehow fell towards me and I ended up bashing his face with the heel of my foot. He blames me, saying my legs were flailing all over the placeyou fucking kicked me in the eye and then I fell but I think hes full of shit.
Regardless, he was obviously following too closely, so its completely his fault. We spent the next 30+ minutes in full, college student debate (you know ... the kind that use every big word theyve learned over the last few years to prove a point?), calling for third-party opinions and the whole nine.
Tuesday, we spent the full day doing work. Somehow I managed to get pulled into it, and Crocker managed to do a full-day towards our accounting. Good things there. I had been trying to think of something that could add or top the already crazy weekend, but decided a good old-fashioned cookout would suffice. So we went over to my sales guys place (who is an avid griller and has a nice balcony and view for Crocker to admire) and the night was lost through lots of food and beer. We were lucky enough to catch a cab right in front of his space, but the guy couldnt speak English, so took us towards North Catalpa or something instead of south on the Kennedy. Grrr.
Wednesday, we finished the accounting and some project works and headed downtown for the last bit of touristy shit. We go into Marshall (*ahem*) Fields (*ahem*) and the Cultural Center to see Tiffanys glass work, then over to the bean (which is finally open and polished, all but the underside). We hung out and its really a slow, wearing down, boring story, except for trying to convince him to be my CFO and while sitting at the bar sweating this girl came up in a sweater and a coat. I think shes a Satan spawn.
We finally walked over to Union Station, passing his CBOT holy grail along the way, and sat around the entrance for an hour or so screaming random words at commuters. FART BOX, UNFORTUNATE USED TAMPON, BOTOXED BONER you get the idea.
Time came to part ways, gave a hug and off he went. I walked over to Greektown and all is unimportant or forgotten after that.
Thursday, has been a super busy day, but I somehow found the time to make up for all of my non-submission or responses by writing a book which you probably wont read.
hey, i made a dr. appt. for mon., and the only time i can get in sort of conflicts with your appt. do you want to....
a) start later?
b) do it on a different day?
lemme know.
oh yeah, one more thing...kim and i have a proposition for you. i'll tell you about it later.
(get your mind outta the gutter, perv.)