Thoughts on Seattle

I recently took a long weekend trip to Seattle to visit a couple friends that live out there. I don't know what it is, but Seattle has always appealed to me, even before I ever stepped foot in the city. Maybe it's the eclectic nature of it, the way it's secludedly tucked away in the top left hand corner of the map. Maybe it's just that it's far away...and everything far away is always better than what's here. And since I've been there a couple times, I've developed a sort of love-hate relationship with it.

The weather in Seattle, 60% of the time is horrible. Rainy, chilly, rainy, soggy, gray, cloudy, rainy. Day in and day out. From October through April: Rain. While the rain isn't the type of gale force thunderstorms we get in the Midwest, it's almost worse because it's constantly moist. I'm sure you're saying to yourself..."Phil, why don't you just go there in the summer. It's 75 and sunny for 4 months straight." And to you I would say, I don't know, but that's a great idea. But I didn't do that, and no one really asked you, just shut up and read, will ya!

Anyway, back to what I was saying. I feel like I understand Seattle, because (at least weather-wise) Chicago is pretty similar. The winter is brutal, and if someone was to only visit in the winter, I'm sure they'd hate it here. But living in Chicago during the summer makes it worth having to put up with the harsh winter. I'm sure the people of Seattle will say the same thing.

I think the real reason I pine for Seattle is because two of the things I love in life, food and music, are prominent there. The musical history that has poured out of Seattle over the years makes it any music lovers dream. For people in their late 20s, in particular, Seattle influenced the way we listen to music, since during our formative years, Pearl Jam and Nirvana, emerged from that area. We spent a rainy Saturday afternoon at the Experience Music Project, and interactive music museum. Recommended.

And there are several gastronomic wonders located along the sloped streets of Seattle. There's no better place to get fresh seafood pulled right out of the Pacific. One recommendation I can make is Purple, a wine bar and restaurant that is continually rated as one of the top in the city. I had an amazing Filet Mignon with garlic & porchini mushroom butter, and my friend had a Lobster Macaroni and Cheese that melted in your mouth. The great thing about Seattle, is that these great quality restaurants are scattered all over the city. Plus, if you like to cook, there's no better place to pick out fresh ingredients than the famed Pike Place Market, home of the flying fish!

If you're looking for a nice long weekend, Seattle is a good bet, especially in the summer.

Reason #37 why I know I'm getting old

I just came very close to calling the police on my upstairs neighbors for being too loud. On a Saturday night. At 9pm.

I'm about 18 months away from chasing the neighborhood kids off my yard with a shovel.

Listen Up

Listening to Sara Bareilles's "Gravity" has been the highlight of my day

Check her out...beautiful voice.

*shout out to Jeremiah for introducing me to her

That was one hell of a Corned Beef Sandwich, or Enjoying the Simple Things in Life

So I know that I said I'd do some more consistent posting...but I lied. Deal with it.

Regardless here's something I've been thinking about lately

Rarely living in a large city like Chicago do you get the opportunity to enjoy the real simplicities of life, but lately, the simple things have been making my day. A couple weeks ago I picked up my friend, Kate from the train station and we stopped in the Gold Coast for dinner. We wandered into Dublin's pub...which is, in my opinion, an ideal Irish pub. Dark wood, good beer on tap, and simple quality food. I wasn't sure what I wanted so I just ordered a corned beef sandwich, since it's something I rarely get. When it came out, I could tell this was going to be a life altering experience. A huge pile of freshly cut corned beef between two pieces of rye bread. No special sauces, gourmet cheeses, or organic greens on the side. Pure, simple, delicious. Clearly this sandwich has made an impression on me, since it's been two weeks, and it's the first thing I write about. If you'd ask Kate, she'll tell you I haven't shut up about this thing for weeks.

Sure, some would say that a sandwich is an unusual thing to help you put your life in perspective, but for me it's always been those small simple things. Like driving on the interstate with the windows down blasting Boston's "More than a Feeling." Standing outside during the first snowfall of the year, cool wind in your face, catching snowflakes on your tongue. Or the next morning when the fallen snow muffles the busy sounds of the city, and you experience a rare peaceful silence.

The simple things folks...that's where it's at.

December Masthead

Clearing out the clutter

A couple weeks ago I went to Target to buy a new alarm clock, since mine had been malfunctioning a bit recently. I stood in the middle of Aisle 39, staring at the vast amount of clocks I had to choose from. They ranged in price from $4.99 to $139.99 and could do anything from just simply waking you up to coordinating with a table lamp, Ipod, CD player, etc. Basically I could get an alarm clock to do anything short of giving me a back rub as I fall asleep. Eventually I chose a moderately priced version that had a radio, 2 separate alarms, and a LED projector light that would display the current time anywhere you aimed it.


That night in bed, I stared up at my ceiling with a blue 10:39 displayed prominently above my head. I laid there unable to fall asleep. What seemed like hundreds of thoughts ran through my head: "What time is that meeting tomorrow at work, 8:30 or 9?; Did I book a rental car for that trip to Dallas?; I think I'm paying too much for cable; Will Lauren & Heidi ever be friends again on 'The Hills?'; Why is my computer so loud? I should look into getting a new one, like the new Mac Book- I love those commercials; When is the writer's strike going to be over...I need some Colbert Report back in my life; I need a vacation; Should I move to a new apartment?; I should really volunteer more; When's the last time I washed my sheets?; I hope this new alarm wakes me up on time tomorrow; What time is that meeting in the morning?"

I was (and still am) completely overstimulated. My brain is running on overtime, but I'm not accomplishing anything (as you can see this is my first post in almost a month.) Just the fact that it took me nearly 15 minutes to pick out a new alarm clock should be a huge warning sign. There's too much clutter in my head, and it's time for an overhaul. I'm hoping to really sit down for the next few weeks, during this busy and hectic time of year and get some focus back in my life.

Hopefully this will result in more consistent postings for all of you to read. Because if anything should be a priority for me, it's that the 6 people that read this blog should have something new to read every once and a while

November Masthead

When Opportunity Knocks...

Something I've been learning lately, is that life is all about seizing opportunities. For most of us, great opportunities rarely come by, and when that door is opened, you must walk through boldly, or else condemn yourself to that haunting "What If..." reverberating in your head.

Ironically enough, I was thinking about opportunity on my commute this morning. My alarm failed to go off, so I woke up late, and was running really behind. It was also one of those days when I waited for what seemed like an eternity to catch the bus, and when it finally came it was pretty full. I managed to maneuver my way to the very back, and wedge myself into a seat. As we headed further South, the bus started to fill up more and more, until finally it was at it's capacity. People were crammed in like sardines, and it was at this point, two and a half stops away from where I get off to transfer, that I was trapped. There was no way I was going to get out when I was supposed to without causing a calamity. I had pretty much resolved to just stay on the bus until it got downtown and then just walk the mile or so to my office. But just then, a stop before mine, the woman sitting a few feet away decides she's not going to be taken prisoner by an overcrowded CTA bus...and she starts to barrel her way through the mess of people towards the door. This was it, it was my opportunity to travel along with her to that distant door in hopes of reaching the other side. I jumped up (or rather slid out) of my seat and followed behind her. She pushed and pulled and divided the people like Moses parted the Red Sea. My own raven-haired Moses in a black North Face fleece jacket.

I walked a few blocks to my other bus route to finish my daily adventure downtown to the office. Naturally, I arrived just as the express bus I would normally take pulls away, so I'm forced to get on the next bus (a non-express version that gets me to the same place, but takes twice as long to get there.) When I get on, the bus is relatively empty, so I get my choice of several seats. As I make my way towards the back, I almost don't see her...the cute girl from my guitar class is sitting along the window reading a book. I take a seat and debate whether I should get up and move closer in an attempt to talk to her.

Before I go on, there's a little back story here I think I should fill you in on. Last week at my guitar lesson, cute guitar girl (hereby known as CGG) came up to me and asked me if I take the 151 bus. I said yes. She then asked if i got off at the Roslyn stop to which i said yes, again. Then she told me she saw me that day on the bus, but wasn't sure if it was me so she didn't say Hi. I playfully called her a stalker, to which she kind of smiled, but kind of turned away like I might be a creep. (I know there is a short list of things you shouldn't say in front of a woman you barely know, and I realize that the word "stalker" is one of them. I just tend to talk before I think)

As I sat there in the back of the bus, I thought about all the things that had happened that day to put me in that seat, on that bus, at the same time as CGG: My alarm didn't go off, so I was late and had to wait for a bus, which would have trapped me had it not been for that woman who forged the way to the door. I just missed the bus I normally take only to end up 13 feet away from her. It seemed as though opportunity was knocking.

Casually I make may way up to the front and say hello. She cheerfully greets me back and marks the page of the book she's reading. We have a nice casual conversation about the weather, our guitar class, the city in general. It was a great "get to know you" conversation; something that after 8 weeks of barely being casual acquaintances we hadn't yet had the chance to do. Before I knew it, I looked out the window to see my office building as we approached my stop. We said we'd see each other later, and with a smile, I waved good-bye as I bounded out the door. It was like a scene straight out of a movie; One of those hopelessly romantic ones starring John Cusack or Sandra Bullock.

At least that's what could have happened had I actually gone up and said something to her. Instead, I sat there like a dope playing imaginary versions of that could-be conversation in my head all the while contemplating over and over again whether I should get up, or wait until she gets to her stop, accidentally running in to her on the way out.

In the end, I did nothing. Mr. Opportunity had opened door, and instead of boldly walking through. I nervously side-stepped outside of it until it was slammed in my face, and he called me a pansy.

The Day After Yesterday

It's that time of year again, folks. Another milestone come and gone.

For a lot of people their birthday can be a pretty depressing time. Whether it's that you're officially a year older, and another year closer to death, or just reflecting over your time on this earth, and realizing you haven't really accomplished what you thought you would.

While I definitely use my birthday as a time for reflection, I rarely get bummed out on the actual day. I tend to celebrate that I've made it another year. I embrace the phone calls and emails from family and friends new and old, hoping that today, more than any other day, is a great one for me. All the attention and well wishes makes me feel loved, appreciated, valued. It's an inexplicably warm feeling.

But then I wake up, every October 26th, and realize it's all over. The day after your birthday, no matter what age you are, is by far the worst day of the year. For one day, you're the center of attention, the thought of someone's mind, even an item on someone's to do list. The next day, not only are you not the topic of discussion, but you're the farthest away from that day than you'll ever be. It's just you, a couple of cards you've already read a half a dozen times, maybe a deflating balloon or two, and some stale cake.

Happy Frickin' Birthday!

Tennis Elbow

So exactly how sad is it that my right arm is sore from playing Wii Tennis this weekend?

PLOP!

Over the past few months, I've become annoyed with the design of public restrooms, particularly the one on the floor of my office. This restroom has a lot of flaws, but allow me, if you will, to highlight some of the worst of them.

1) Poor Ventilation. There's no reason not to have a powerful exhaust fan in the men's restroom. Not only does it help control the level of odor, but also maintains a nice cool temperature for maximum comfort while said deed is going on.

2) This bathroom is completely silent. If you happen to be in there at the same time as another person, you hear every trickle, splash, and flatulent release. There should always be some sort of music playing in the restroom, no matter how cheesy it is to help mask the sound of Bob from accounting getting rid of last night's Kung Pao.

3) Is there any reason that the stall doors of a restroom can't reach all the way to the floor? That extra 8 inches of door would really make me feel more comfortable while doing my business. I know it's a public restroom, but at least give me the illusion of privacy.

4) While the stall doors should reach the floor, the urinal absolutely shouldn't. The foot of the urinal should be no lower than knee height in order to minimize "splash back." If the base of the urinal is at the floor, you're at least doubling the distance the fluid needs to travel. It accelerates and becomes more chaotic until it finally reaches the bottom and splashes all over the place. If I wanted pee on my shoes, I can think of more creative ways to do it.

What about you, Internets? Do you have any bathroom pet peeves or horror stories you'd like to share?

October Mastheads

the day I got into a fight with a transvestite on the bus

First off, many apologies for being MIA recently. It seems it's hard for me to do much of anything lately, including blog. I'm hoping these types of absences will be rare here at Philthy Laundry...so hang in there. Now on with the show...

A couple weeks ago I had quite possibly one of the worst days in Chicago I've had since this dreadful event. It had been a stressful week. I had flown back from Ohio on Monday, and things were pretty rough at work since everyone was recovering from a long Labor Day weekend. When Friday finally approached I was excited to just get the week over with. When the end of the day arrived, and I raced out the door, anxious to get home and relax. Much to my dismay, however, relaxing was the last thing that i was in line for.

First of all, I waited for quite a while for my bus to arrive, which on a Friday afternoon is not atypical. I was getting a bit agitated, however, because the skies were growing darker, and it seemed as though a thunderstorm was imminent. The bus finally arrived and I boarded excited to get a single seat near the window (which is one of the most coveted seats in all of public transportation.) The bus pulled away from the stop, and about 3 blocks later, stops suddenly. Apparently, the power steering went out, and the vehicle is refusing to move, so we all have to get off and wait for the next one. At almost the exact moment as my foot hit the cement of Michigan Ave, the skies open up and it starts pouring. Tourists and locals alike are scrambling for a place to take cover along the crowded streets. I decide to cut my losses, and run to the nearest bus stop to catch a new bus. Unfortunately there's a stretch of Michigan Ave where my bus doesn't stop for about 3 blocks, and I was in the middle of that stretch. Eventually I make it to the awning of a department store adjacent to a bus stop, and wait for a new bus to take me home. When one comes, I board again, pay again, and this time stand next to some lady who is practicing for the "elbow me in the ribs" event at the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing. If that ride was any indication, I think the gold medal is hers.

I eventually reach the first of my two bus stops, and make my way to catch bus #2 of my commute. Much to my delight, it arrives relatively promptly, and again, I get a seat. By this time the rain has subsided, but my misshapen clothes are hanging off my body and still patchy with dampness. More or less I look like someone on their first week of homelessness (overall still keeping it together, but beginning to unravel at the seams)

A few stops into this trip is when this story gets Legen...(wait for it)...dary!

An elderly Hispanic woman gets on the bus and sits in the seat closest to the driver. She sits and is fumbling through her purse looking for her fare card. Following closely behind her are two African American women. Wait, let me rephrase that. ONE African American woman and one African American man dressed as a woman (hereby referred to as tranny.) They sit in the seats next to the Hispanic woman, who when she finally finds her fare card, stands up to pay for her bus ride. Apparently when she got up, her elbow accidentally hit Tranny's arm, which caused a bag of clipboards Tranny was carrying to fall onto the floor. This upset Tranny and his/her friend a lot, and they start screaming at the top of their lungs at this poor woman, who I can only assume doesn't speak English very well based on her frightened and confused reaction to the situation. The two "ladies" are calling this women B**** this and B**** that and threatening to follow her down the street when she gets off, etc. I am sitting there, absolutely stunned that this is going on. Then the actual woman gets a hairbrush out of her purse and runs up to the woman, holding it over her head like she's going to beat her with it. Thankfully, the bus driver stops the bus and attempts to calm everyone down. The two "ladies" sit back down and promise to behave, which is a promise they keep for about 5 seconds. They keep yelling at this woman, calling her names, etc. Finally the tranny says something like "You should learn to respect people that are young enough to be your granddaughter."

It's at this point that the stress of my week, and my day have pushed me over the edge, and I interject by saying, "Maybe you should respect someone that's old enough to be your grandmother. It was an accident, let it go, and shut the hell up!" I look up and the bus driver is looking in his rear view mirror shaking his head in disbelief like "Oh no you didn't."

The Tranny responds by babbling on and on about how "You should mind your own business" and "You don't know me, you don't know where I come, you have no right to talk to me like that" etc.

Again, I respond with "You made it my business when you threatened this woman for an accident and raving on about it like a lunatic for the last 5 minutes!"

Tranny's not happy. And by now, the adrenaline of the situation is starting to wear off and I remember that even though this person is wearing lipstick, high heels, and a skirt, doesn't mean it still isn't a rather large man who could probably kick my butt, and whom I've just intensely provoked. I'm starting to get a bit nervous just when Tranny gets up and approaches me. Tranny gets in my face and says, very calmly, "Look B****, I don't want to have to cut nobody today!" and cocks his/her head back and forth looking at me with big bugged eyes. Thankfully the bus driver pulls over and gets up again to intervene, and I didn't have to witness where and with what object Tranny was planning on "cutting" me.

A little frazzled, I got off the bus with a large group of people at the next stop, and decided to walk the rest of the way home. Luckily, I wasn't followed.

As I walked home, I couldn't believe my luck. At first I was just wishing I would have stayed in bed that day and called in sick...but if I would have done that, I would never have been able to tell the story of "the day I got into a fight with a transvestite on the bus."

Sorry it's been a while...

It's been a crazy week, folks. But I promise, when i get the time to right this next post down, it'll be worth the wait.


In the meantime...chew on this Deep Thought, from Jack Handy:

If you saw two guys named Hambone and Flippy, which one would you think liked dolphins the most? I'd say Flippy, wouldn't you? You'd be wrong, though. It's Hambone.– Jack Handey

Tune in > Mark Ronson

It's rare that I recommend a DJ / Producer, but there's a first time for everything. Mark Ronson has been making a splash in the last year by producing break-through albums for two budding Brits, Amy Winehouse & Lily Allen. Now he's released his own little vanity project "Version," a collection of British cover songs performed by modern British Artists. Ronson mixes his own kitchy hip-hop/soul/funk sounds with the vocal stylings of both Winehouse & Allen, but also Phantom Planet, Kasabian, Robbie Williams, and more. Check it out, it's worth the $10.

Dear Andy Roddick,

Hey Andy, it's me, Philthy. How's it going?

Listen,I know you're probably really tired from that match against Roger last night. I just wanted to let you know that I think you played really great. You left it all out on the court for the first two and a half sets, and I respect that.

Granted, there have been many times during your career that I've rooted for you, and you've let me down. I think during Wimbledon this year when you lost to Gasquet, I said, "That's it, I'm never cheering for Andy Roddick again! You Suck!" or something like that. But I couldn't do it, Andy. I couldn't not cheer for you in the US Open. Even though I knew that you'd eventually have to play Federer, and he'd most likely kick your butt again, you can't not cheer for the Americans in the US Open. What am I? A Commie?

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that you didn't disappoint me too badly. Sure you lost in straight sets, but you played your best, and that's all that matters (isn't' that what our Mom's used to tell us? Just do your best.) Keep playing hard and I know one day you'll beat Roger (hopefully.) And for now, I'll keep cheering you on in hopes that you'll be that revitalizing spark that US Men's Tennis desperately needs. But if you lose to one more no name in the early rounds of some tournament, I swear to everything holy, I'll punch you right it the babymakers.

Tootles,
Philthy

Talk About Killer Dance Moves

In the Philippines, the most violent offenders are sent to Cebu Detention and Rehabilitation Center to do their time. How do these savage criminals spend their day? Choreographed dance, of course.

On another note, I heard Nick Cannon will be starring in a movie adaptation of this story: "You Got Served: San Quentin"

The 3 most dreadful words in the English Language

If you have been a faithful reader to the blogs of Philthy Laundry, Inc. you know that I have a love/hate relationship with the state of Ohio. Scratch that, I just have a hate relationship with Ohio. In fact the only thing I love about Ohio is that I love to hate it. Hate. Hate. Hate.

So you could imagine the size of the chill that went through my body on Thursday evening as my flight attendant announced those 3 dreadful words "Welcome to Cleveland."

I'm sure you're asking yourself, "Why Philthy, if you hate Ohio so much, would you choose to spend 4 consecutive days there over Labor Day?" Good question. The thing is that I do have one friend who lives outside Cleveland that I enjoy seeing. When Labor Day started to roll around, I started to attempt to make plans. It seemed that everyone I knew in Chicago was going to be out of town. Everyone I knew outside of Chicago didn't want to come visit. I also tried to get several people to take a long weekend getaway to somewhere fun that was within a couple hour flight, Nashville, Austin, Minneapolis. No takers. It was at that point that I thought 'Why not take a little trip to Cleveland to see my friend. I mean, how bad can it be?' And while I wouldn't classify the weekend as "good," truthfully, it wasn't that bad. Granted I had extremely low expectations and the only objective for the weekend was to relax and get away for a few days. So sleeping in until 11, spending a little time outside, having a few beers, and generally being lazy was just what the doctor ordered, and Ohio sort of delivered.

However, since it came up, I think it's time that I tell you exactly where this disdain for Ohio comes from:

1) Ohio is one giant suburb. With several major small cities like Cleveland, Cincinnati, Columbus, Dayton, Toledo, & Akron in such a small state, you're pretty much constantly in some sort of suburb. While the suburbs do have their good qualities (such as nice houses, good school districts, the ability to raise young kiddies in a relatively safe environment, etc) they also have huge downsides (strip malls all over the place, lack of diversity, breeding ground for wealthy teenage douchebags who think they're entitled to the world because Mommy & Daddy told the nanny to tell them they were special when they were growing up)

2) Miami University. This is where the elitist of the yuppie d-bags from the suburbs end up to continue their so-called entitlement in the form of an over-hyped and expensive college education. Subsequently, this is also where they further develop their cocaine habits. I've met only 2 people that graduated from Miami University that I haven't wanted to punch in the face.

3) THE Ohio State University. Yes they have a great tradition of good sports teams. Yes the current students and graduates of OSU have a lot of be proud of and should cheer on their teams with vigor. However, I think Ohio State has some of the worst, most over dramatic, pompous, and overall ridiculous sports fans I have ever witnessed. And why do they feel the need to stress the word "THE" so much? I also want to punch them in the face.

4) While the major market cities Cleveland & Cincinnati do have a couple of up-sides (The Rock & Roll Hall of fame being one,) they are, in general, complete and total crap holes.

5) Finally, and I couldn't make this up if I tried, when I was conversing with some local Ohioans, the subject of movies came up. And literally this was the first thing I heard in response: "Have you seen that 'Wild Hogs?' I loved it!" As if that wasn't enough, the second thing I heard was "Yeah we rented that 'Norbit' the other night. It wasn't as good as I expected." Really another Eddie Murphy film where he dresses up as a fat woman didn't deliver? Sounded like a classic to me.

Perhaps I'm being a little harsh and judgemental. I completely acknowledge that living in a top-notch city like Chicago has spoiled me a bit, and when compared with Chicago, few places can measure up. But if I never set foot in Ohio again, I won't be complaining.

September Mastheads

It's Monsoon Season in Chicago!

I'm proud to let you know that today is a big day in my life. It was announced today that the current floor emergency leader in my office had resigned, and that they needed someone to take his place. Our administrative assistant thought that I would be perfect for the job (most likely because of my unparalleled leadership skills, and my ability to stay cool under pressure) and offered it to me. Before I accepted I had a few questions:

1) How much power will I have? (none)
2) Will I get a pay increase for putting my life on the line? (no)
3) Can I get a whistle? (maybe)

I graciously accepted. For my first order of business, I immediately changed the name of the title from "Floor Emergency Leader" to "Safety Czar." The next step is to order that whistle.

I'm sure you can imagine my excitement this afternoon when the news broke that the entire Chicagoland area was under a severe thunderstorm advisory, and tornado warning. A huge line of intense storms was heading right for us. We all crowded around the windows and gazed at the dark clouds to the West. Just then, Mother Nature unleashed her fury. A wall of rainfall began blowing against the glass and steel buildings of the Chicago Loop. People scurried about, looking for shelter. Debris was flying high into the air as the strong wind continued to change direction.

Then over the loud speaker we heard:

"Attention all employees! We are currently experiencing severe weather; please move away from the windows and into the central point of your floor. This is not a drill. Please move away from your desks immediately. I repeat, this is not a drill."

I knew it was my time to act. As Safety Czar of the 13th floor....I needed to care for my team. Armed only with a bright orange hat, corresponding nylon vest, and my determination for survival, I successfully led the majority of my colleagues into the safety of Conference Room A.
The storm passed nearly as quickly as it came, and it was safe to return to our desks.

On my way home, I got to see that this was a pretty intense storm. Trees were down all over Lincoln Park, even some uprooted and thrown onto parked cars. There was broken glass, overturned garbage cans, and debris all over the streets. In my neighborhood, there are trees blocking a lot of the side roads as well as fallen power lines. Here are some pictures I took just on my street.

Impulse

A couple years ago i read book, a comedic memoir really, in which the narrator described this odd impulse he had to touch other people on the head. It wasn't constant, but every once and a while an urge would come along and he would have to touch someone on the head. Often it was at very inappropriate times, like on an airplane or while at a sporting event. Eventually the author had to come up with very creative ways to satisfy his odd desire.

I always thought that this was a little odd until I started thinking about the weird impulses that I have, and how lucky I am that usually I can suppress them. For instance, no matter where I am, when i see a police officer in full uniform...I want to grab their gun out of their holster. I don't want to shoot it, I just want to grab it. Or sometimes, I'll see someone walking down the street, and I'll just want to punch them in the face, because they look like they deserve it. I very rarely do this.

Open your hearts, internets. Do you have any random impulses?

Definitely worth walking an extra 6 blocks to get home

On my way home from work on Tuesday, two high school aged boys sat in the seat behind me on the bus. Typically on the bus I'm concentrating on touching as few of the surfaces as possible with my bare skin, and keeping the weird man standing next to me from inadvertently touching me. Today, however, the only thing i could concentrate on was their conversation. These bright, young, future hermits were speaking emphatically about Greek Mythology. I listened to them dork out and go on and on about Poseidon this, and Zeus that. As I watched my bus stop come and go through the smeared dirty window, I was paralyzed with awe and amazement that these two people had just entered my life. And boy am I glad that missed my stop to stick around. Otherwise, I would have never heard this:
"So yeah, like Oedipus was all like 'Hey Dad, Mom's rollin' with me now. See ya' "

Amazing.

Dear America,

Let me be the first one to say that I love this country. But America, there are certain times when I question your decisions. For instance, this weekend, the number one movie at the box office was "Rush Hour 3." You forked over nearly $50 million in 3 days. At an average of $9 per ticket, that's over 4 million of you that saw this movie. Tell me, what were you thinking?

Now, America, I'm a rational man, I could forgive you if this was just a single incident. But it wasn't, was it? Let me refresh your memory.

March 5, 2007 I wake up on a Monday morning, ready to face the day. It was a beautiful spring day here in Chicago, and I could feel the vivacity in the air. I was on my way to work, perusing the paper, when I turned to the Entertainment section. Then I saw what you did. You spent $39 million that weekend to see the brilliant film "Wild Hogs." John Travolta, Tim Allen, Martin Lawrence, and William H Macy on a motorcycle trip across the country...in leather. Seriously...this was appealing? So appealing in fact, you decided to spend a total of $167 million supporting it. You make me sick.

As if that wasn't enough I remember last summer, I was in line to see the "Pirates of the Caribbean" sequel, and as I approached the marquee...I noticed that "Little Man" was sold out on 2 SCREENs! I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I turned to a couple people standing in line near me and asked them "Am I seeing things, or is 'Little Man' actually sold out?" To which they replied "Yeah man, I know. We have to see something else too." If it were legal I would have sterilized those two people right then and there, so they wouldn't continue to populate the world with bad decision making skills.

Here are a couple clues to let you know this movie was going to be horrible:
1st, Marlon Wayans (as a man playing a baby.)
2nd, Shawn Wayans (you remember "white chicks", don't you?)
3rd, if you recall from childhood, this movie's plot was actually portrayed wonderfully by Bugs Bunny in a Loony Toons piece. Of course Bugs Bunny (who is an animated character designed for the amusement of children, let me remind you) managed to tell the story in 8 minutes, not 109 minutes. 109 minutes of gut wrenching torture.

Even though IMDB has named this movie the 5th worst film of all time, you spent nearly $60 million to see it.

Now, America, I know that change is possible, but I also acknowledge that it won't happen over night. I'm sure you'll stumble a few more times, but I'm urging you to please stop seeing these movies. You're just giving the people in Hollywood an excuse to keep making them.

Sincerely,
Philthy

go green or go home (or just go home)

i'm all for people wanting to do their part to help the environment, but is it just me, or is everyone that owns a prius driving like an a-hole? everytime i see one on the road it's always the same scene: 60mph in the left lane of the highway, chatting away on a bluetooth headset, drinking vitamin water, eating kashi, ruining my life.

from the ashes

oh, internets...how I've missed you.

it's been over 8 months since I've written anything other than a grocery list, and boy am i happy to be back.

why was i gone for so long? good question, i don't really know. i do know that late last year, i just felt drained. my creative juices had stopped flowing; maybe i lost my muse. the thing with writing, like anything else, is that if you don't stay active, then you lose the ability to do it. this has been a great outlet for me in the past...i'm hoping it'll only get better in the future.

but why now? after all this time, why start another blog? over the past few months several people have come up to me and encouraged me to start writing again. just this week a friend of mine suggested i use my power (read employment) with the Tribune Company to get a weekly column in one of their papers. i assured her that 1) i have no power within the Chicago Tribune, and 2) they don't just give columns to average phil's off the street with no experience, or journalism background. but i promised her i would consider blogging again, which seemed to satisfy for the moment.

on my way to work this morning i was really thinking about writing again. is it something i really want to commit to? what if it's been too long? i'll never get an audience back. i thought "if i do this, i'll need some sort of sign...something from above." just then it hit me....

a bird had just crapped on my arm.

i figured considering my luck, that's as good a sign as i'm going to get. so here i am, internets, poop-stained arms stretched wide, ready for your warm, familiar embrace. don't let me down.

August Mastheads