A friend of mine came into the bar I didn't mean to stay late in tonight. She came in late. I won't deny that I have the hots for her.
I won't deny that she has be best excuse for missing my birthday ever heard:
"I'm going to be in Armenia building houses for Habitat for Humanity." Sorry, but for all those girls I've promised all the things in the world for, the moon, the stars, whatever, that is the greatest line I've heard on a denial of time spent together.
Mind you, 45 minutes later I was sober as a sober person would've been, and rubbing her back, making sure she stayed alive as she puked. After that, I was standing in the women's room making sure she was alright. She told me I shouldn't be in the women's room. I told her that I had already had sex in there, and that it was ok.
There wasn't any sex. For some reason, it seems important to point that out.
There won't be, either for at least a while, as she'll be out of the country. Again, I don't have a problem with this, but my bed is beckoning me.
It has been 1,085 days since I turned 30. Had I actually been keeping track, I'm sure I would have done something special on LD +1,000*, but really, I've stopped worrying about age.
Or have I?
During a recent conversation, I was discussing my friendship with former roommate and friend S, who I have known for 10 years, nearly 11, which impressed me, because he is one of the first friends I made in my post-college, corporate-ladder-climbing days. Given, I have friends I've known longer, my roommate and best friend Jess and I have known each other for 13 years. Jen and I have known each other for almost 14 years, most of which were spent dating or in relationships or sleeping together or pissing each other off in creative ways. Pat and I met in the Spring of 1992, so we're staring down the barrel of 15 years. My high school bunch and I have known each other for as many as 21 years, which means our friendship can now legally buy beer.
The point is that time is fleeting, and boy is it ever fleeting away from me. The Summer of Dave is now the Fall of Dave, just 99 days later. My birthday is in a short 11 days, and my first Wolves game is coming up 10 days after that. All of these things become just a little bit scarier when you quantify them, right? So, for now and at least for the next 11 days, I'm not going to. Well, I'm going to try not to. We'll see how that goes. Peronally, I'm putting my money on not very well, but that's just me, right? Right?
*For those of you scoring at home, Last Day +1,000 was 30 June, 2006- I didn't make a blog entry that day, but I'm pretty sure I went bowling that night.
Ever since Joey posted a link to the Stephen Colbert On Notice Generator, I've wanted to use it somehow. Today, I'm using it to organize my thoughts into a post.
I finally got my first unemployment check. Whoo-hoo! I'm slightly richer! I'm also expecting to finally get a decision from the company I applied and interviewed with so long ago- there's been some emergency situations that have delayed the whole process, but those delays should be taken care of, and I should finally know early next week.
For those of you who check out Shoshanna's blog, and wondering why I haven't updated it in a month or more, well, that's because she was in hiding. I had left her in a bag that I don't frequently use, and forgotten her there. I know. I'm a bad person. I've also managed to have my digital camera go on the fritz, but I'll try to squeeze in a Shoshanna photo op day next week.
One of my many addictions over the past 3 months of shiftlessly laying about is Star Wars Battlefront II on my PS2. I've been busy doing other things lately, like looking for a job, but let me say that this is one hell of a good time. Especially when I get to play as a Jedi. I'm so happy it scares me. Maybe not as much as Yoda rapping, but it definitely is a little frightening how giddy I can get when I try to pretend I'm still a kid. The biggest problem, of course, with being laid off is that the days really blend together- so much so that I'm extremely bored. I spend a lot of time scrolling through jobs I feel underqualified for, then I try to watch Jeopardy! and make it though an entire episode without calling someone an idiot (thus far, with no success). I write pub quiz rounds, frequently ones that go nowhere but in the trash, which makes me feel like I'm trying to start an unstartable novel or something. Perhaps that's what I should try next- novel writing. Hm. Something tells me I'd lose interest.
Friends and neighbors, I believe I told y'all about a long-standing bet I had with my former roommate and very close friend, S. The bet was made back in 1999, and the contest was that whoever got engaged first would take the other out on a Schlitz tour of Chicago, finding all the bars we could that served Schlitz beer, and going into each one for a beer apiece. Well, after years and years of trying, my boy popped the big question this week, and she said yes. I personally congratulated them last night over a couple beers, as they are still on vacation. I'm very proud of my friend, and very excited to be a part of the wedding party, too. Now I need to start saving up for a trip to Japan- and I'm told I am required to wear a kilt. Should be interesting.
Last week, as I was out and about, I picked up a copy of the Civ IV Expansion Pack. Why? Because I've been playing that game since college, and I seriously need diversion. Apparently, a new hobby would be good, too, which is why I bought myself another new toy, a bass amp. I'll be driving my roommate and neighbors crazy very, very soon.
It is high time I got back to doing laundry- something which I don't do nearly as often anymore. I enjoy it, because it is so much simpler. One load for boxers, one for black t-shirts and shorts, one for white t-shirts. Gotta love that kind of simplicity in a boring chore like laundry.
Ladies and gentlemen, I'm gaining weight like crazy. I sold my road bike to a friend, not that I was riding it anyways, but now I'm definitely not able to do any of the training I've been doing, and keeping myself nice and thin. My solution showed up in the mail yesterday- an invite to join my local Y for free! Hey, I might be unemployed, but I need to get out of the house, too!
In case you haven't received an invite to my birthday party, which could be because the invite went out to somewhere near 80 people, here's the linky to the evite, and here's what the invite looks like: In case you havent' received an invite to my fantasy hockey league, which is mostly because I haven't bothered to send one out yet, log on to your Yahoo! account and sign up for Dickie Dunn Wrote This, league #7369, password is brooks. The draft is next Thursday, and space is limited.
The other, very, very odd thing that happened last night was not only did two teams tie in the final score, but also gave the same guess for the tiebreaker question. Because this had never happened before, I had a representative from each team come up and play rock-scissors-paper to determine the winner.
It was funny, and a great way to end a crazy, crazy night of trivia.
This morning, my friends and neighbors, I am EXHAUSTED. I had quite the interesting night last night, featuring quite a bit of strangeness at pub quiz. First off, I bought a new electric pencil sharpener last week while I was out correcting the Illinois Department of Employment Services error on my address- they managed to turn the zeroes I wrote out into ones. Fortunately, my mailman is smart enough to recognize my name and where I live.
Someone please remind me to take him out for a couple beers this weekend. Anyways, back to the story:
I'm sitting there, sharpening pencils before last night's quiz, and noticing just how crappy my $10 pencil sharpener sharpens pencils, bitching endlessly about it, actually, when there's a flash, and half the room goes dark. I had actually blown a fuse using the goddamn thing. It was, in a way, funny, but at the same time, a little crazy. It reminded me of the first night of pub quiz, when the entire grid went down, and even my house lost power. After some confusion, the owner and I got the power back on, leading to the joke "how many Scotsmen does it take to reset a fuse?"
Apparently, the answer is two.
So, people started filing in, and I made due with the number of actually sharp pencils I had. Then more people came. And more, and more, and more. Jen and I made the decision to run quiz from behind the bar so a team could have a table. Then still more people came in. We started pulling tables in from the front room, and I felt a familiar pain. Jen was concerned and asked me where it hurt. After relating the pain to her, she said, "that's not good- that's a rotator cuff problem." Crap. Just what I need, yet another joint going bad. Of course, if we look back to three years ago, I had the same problem.
Sounds like I'm overdue to see my sports medicine doctor, no?
All told, we wound up with 72 people at pub quiz last night. At one point, I was talking to the owner and requested that if a fire inspector showed up, to make sure they didn't come to the back room. It was hectic, crazy, and somehow or another, we managed to still finish just a couple minutes after ten. Afterwards, we had some well-deserved drinks. Many of them. The staff and I did quite a few shots before I called it a night, and lugged all my crap home and iced my shoulder.
So today, I'm tired. I'm in pain. I'm wondering if those folks will be there again. I'm almost afraid they will be, but I'm retiring myself from moving tables again. Standing behind the bar, pulling my own pints all night, that, on the other hand, I'm more than happy to do again.
I found this test on Voyages of the HMS Swiftsure, who had recently reminded my bwife that she needed to make time for me in her life, too. I thought the test was hilarious, so I had to give it a whirl.
Clark Gable
You scored 30% Tough, 19% Roguish, 19% Friendly, and 33% Charming!
You're a helluva guy, a real split personality and a bit of an enigma. On the one hand, you're a man's man, tough talking and ready for anything. But on the other hand, you soften your rough and tumble core with a disarmingly smooth exterior, and you make the ladies swoon. You're equally admired by both men and women alike, drinking other men under the table all the while charming the socks off half a dozen lovelies. You're a commanding presence, and you know how to get what - and who - you want when you want it. You're drawn to women who, like you, are savvy enough to deal with the world on their own terms. You work well with spitfires. Leading ladies include Joan Crawford, Myrna Loy, and Jean Harlow. No damsels in distress for you.
Find out what kind of classic dame you'd make by taking the Classic Dames Test.
My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
Saturday was the 2nd anniversary of my 3rd knee surgery. I passed the time drinking at the Sox game with a very good friend of mine that I hadn't seen in a while. I then proceeded to, after going out with him to a bar in the south loop with another friend, go out for karaoke. All told, I was out and about and drinking and cavorting from 5:15 until 3am. Needless to say, I was not in good shape on Sunday, but I managed. Poorly. I went out to watch football, and gave up and went home after about an hour or so. I managed to choke down one Guinness, but that was all I could manage. This so-called rockstar lifestyle I've been pushing myself into is getting old.
Monday was the 5th anniversary of 9/11. I don't want to talk about it. I will say that I avoided all news sources on Monday because of it.
Tomorrow is Pub Quiz's 2nd anniversary, so we had a special anniversary quiz last night, where I doubled all the points. It was fun. It was exciting. We had about 50 people. For those of you who are interested, I've finally started posting the questions again. Clicky if you dare.
In three weeks, Wendy and I will be celebrating our birthday, as will another friend of ours. We're also having birthday parties on the same night, so if you're planning on sending one personality to each, please make sure you RSVP for each. A post for my birthday party is forthcoming. Promise.
if you want me to So, lately, I've been hanging around with people and imbibing vast amounts of, well, everything. I'm having fun, but this fun is taking a toll on my body. I feel run down. I feel old. Of course, my looming birthday might have something to do with that. The combination of being unemployed (did you know that if you sleep late enough, you'll never have a hangover), having gobs of cash and having temporarily retired from cycling doesn't exactly promote healthy living. I'm not prepared, but if I have to So, I'm turning over a new leaf or two, and making time for exercise in my daily schedule of boredom, my routine of ruts, my summer of Dave. Of course, there's a bit more to everything. I'm a touch confused with the awkwardness of late-night taxi conversations I've been having lately, but I don't want to get too far into that. I will say this much: one of my all-time favorite parts of a romantic relationship is the first kiss. There's just something about it that makes me so happy- something about the moment that is just too good. Call me a romantic, but that's what I like. Said I can make you scared Last week I had a similar moment. It was exciting. It was daring. It was 2:30 in the morning. It was in a cab. Two people had the same idea at the same time.
I love it when that happens. It's kinda what I do What's going to come out of this? Who is this mysterious person? Why the teasers? My friends, I don't have any of these answers. I'm just sitting back, wondering the same thing. That's the great part about being unemployed. You have lots and lots of spare time to think.
My friend, and former colleague back at the horrible place I used to work, with all those phone calls and that, who laid me off, you remember, right? Where I used to answer this phone all day, and frequently all night, long? Well, he and I got to talking the other day about finally signing up for unemployment, so we scheduled that we would go this morning. He picked me up at my house at 8:30, we got some coffee for him, and we were on our way to living off of unemployment insurance.
After filling out lots of forms- in pencil I might add, registering with the state skills match program, watching a video on how to complete the unemployment application (which strangely, comes as step 5, the second to last step), and finally meeting with a representative of the state, we decided it was high time for breakfast. After all, the whole process took about 90 minutes, which was less time than I expected, but neither of us had time for breakfast. We discussed options, and decided on a place, but we'd take a peek at the Globe to see if they were open.
They weren't actually open, but the door was. I walked in and the owner told me to go ahead and have a seat. He wondered why I was there so early in the day, and we explained the whole reasoning of how funny it would be to have pints of Guinness with breakfast after leaving the Unemployment Office. So far, just about everyone has agreed that that was the best move possible.
Personally, I had a nice little buzz going before we decided to leave.
In my defense, I just don't feel like sharing my daily routine, as it is, sadly, rather boring. I wake up. I come to the computer. I chat, I read news headlines, I check my fantasy sports teams, I play video games. I eat lunch, I pet my cat. I pine after girls. Sometimes I read blogs. Sometimes I'll say something interesting. Sometimes I'll read something interesting. I'll worry a little about money, as we're reaching the end of the severance package cashola. Well, it is running out, but not gone, but I should get a job anyways. I'm going slowly insane with the routine I'm stuck in.
The other day, to break up the monotony of my routine, a friend sent me a job application to be a hockey writer for a local ezine. I seriously considered it, but the job description called for someone who wanted to write about the Blackhawks more than the Wolves. A Blackhawks column written by me would probably be 250 words following this pattern:
They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck. They suck.
In reality, I'd just be happy to be going to the games with a press pass. That would be pretty cool. Although I'm pretty sure the job doesn't pay, but we all have to start somewhere.
Speaking of hockey, I've started up a Yahoo! fantasy hockey league for this year. Interested parties should contact me via the e-mail. You know the digits, right? The name of this year's league? Dickie Dunn Wrote This. Call it an homage.
So, that, friends and neighbors, is my life in a nutshell. I'm still waiting to hear from the company I recently interviewed with, but my inside information tells me that the staff has yet to discuss the interviews they did. That's a whole other thing, though, and I don't feel like worrying about it. Not only have I been a bad blogger, but I've been shunning electronic communication the past couple days. I'm being a luddite, in a manner of speaking. So, I'm calling this an open apology to those of you who have been wondering why the hell I haven't gotten back to you, or blogged, or done anything remotely resembling communication.
Oh, and big thanks to John, for posting his pictures from the camping trip.
A friend of mine came into the bar I didn't mean to stay late in tonight. She came in late. I won't deny that I have the hots for her.
