Marc
Hello.
I've been busy as hell these past few days. I know, it's uncannily weird for me to say that, seeing as how I still don't have a job. Weird, right? Let me fill you in (and please note that I'm not a big fan of weekend recap lists, but I feel that it really works in this situation):
Friday Afternoon: Chicago Bears training camp in beautiful Bourbonnais, Illinois. That's right ... Bourbonnais, the same town where I grew up. The Bears! It's so eerie. There were signs all over the place, and Chris Chandler was throwing the ball like perfectly, and Brian Urlacher is the tallest, meanest looking man on the planet. Yeah.
Friday Evening: Dinner with the parents. They actually fed myself and the four friends I brought up with me. Not only that, but they bought us a free case of beer as well. Aww ... parents. Awesome.
Friday Night: It's too bad we finished said case by 9:00pm. We had to head to the bars. The first one, TJ's, had a lot of golf buddies at it. Tons of fourty year old dudes in collared shirts talking about work and sports and ... next bar, please! We walk ten feet to RD's, where no one's really there, and there's no music playing which is good cause now we can take over the jukebox. Luckily my little sister called after a while and informed me that she was at a place where her and her friends were just hanging out playing cards. Guess who showed up and made a big scene? We did! Crazy.
Saturday Morning: Raid the parents fridge again. Take their Excedrin, too. Hangovers all around. We part ways with Scooter, who heads to Wisconsin. Myself, Sean, and our pal Jeff have a date with the Chicago Cubs and two hot ass chicks. To the Marc-mobile! On the drive up to Chicago Sean just randomly started counting how many beers he had (we had) last night and came up with a number between 15 and 17. Even conservatively we estimate that we killed two thirty packs between four people. Yikes. Why did we all feel groggy in the morning, I wonder? I also mentioned, after we were able to finally see the Chicago skyline (45 minutes into the drive), how it was really nice driving to the city from Bourbonnais cause there was never any traffic. Not fifteen seconds later we were stuck in motionless traffic that lasted, ironically, another 45 minutes.
Saturday Afternoon: We meet our honey's at Lee Anne's parents' place on the north side of Chicago. Her mom is kind enough to drive us down to the game so we don't have to (a) pay for parking, or (b) worry about driving drunk if we decide to just hang out in Wrigleyville all night. Her mom was nice as hell. I love me some Cubbies and some Wrigley Field. The only regrets I have about the whole ordeal is that I don't go enough and that the beer is way too expensive. Que-ev, though. Cubbies lose 2 to 1, but not until 3 of the 5 of us, not including myself, actually saw some dude get a blowjob on the upper deck patio behind home plate. I don't know the whole story. I just heard "Blowjob!" and was instantly captivated. Just in case you were wondering, I sat in section 523, row 8, seat 2. Second to last upper deck row behind home plate, and I loved every second of it. You could see everything. We hit up the Salt and Pepper Diner after the game for some eats. Good food, and they were playing Can't Hardly Wait on the tv's.
Saturday Night: I was kind of blah for the most part. Nightime plus hangovers will do that to me. We crashed a FratBash for the DePaul D-bags at one point. One of them threatened to beat us up because a bottle fell from our balcony on to his head, three floors below. Hey, dude! None of us would ever drink Mike's Hard Lemonade. If you want to beat up chicks, go ahead. That just makes you more of an asshole. Head to Rick's and saw strobe lights and dudes dancing on dudes, and lots of people in striped shirts. That must be the thing to wear these days. I wouldn't know. I guess I'm not cool enough. Que-ev. Not really happening. Still hungover, and worn out from all this activity. Decide that sleeping at Lee Anne's would be the best option. Much to our suprise we find a slew of 16 year old stoners in the basement getting biz-aked like a bunch of pro's. Myself and Sean pull the "Two Older Gay Dudes" routine and freak the fuck out of these little rap-scallions before we all call it a night at sunrise. Woke up to kids meeting their parents outside for rides home. Wow. Slumber party? Anyone? Slumber party.
Sunday Morning: See above. Slept til 1pm.
Sunday Afternoon: Sean and I bought breakfast Hot Pockets the night before, and milk chugs and orange juice, too. So we cooked it up and listened to Lee Anne shuffle the stoners out the door. We part ways with everyone and head to Woodfield Mall in Schaumburg. Woo! The mall! I changed my boxers and powdered my balls in a bathroom stall. Sean and others kept calling me at the same time. It made for interesting living, and I'm sure that the guys outside waiting for a crapper were a bit miffed, too. "Hello ... Hey, what's up? ... Meet us at Hot Topic ... I know, I know. I hate that store, too, but Sean wants to get a belt and he says they sell ones ... Yeah ... He's gay, I know ... I'm in the bathroom, and I've got no pants on ... No, the bathroom in the mall ... Yeah ... I'll be out in a minute ... Bye." After that we hit up other random, stupid stores before we ate (root beer floats) and took off for the Jimmy Eat World/Promise Ring show at the Riviera.
Sunday Night: The show was actually really cool, minus the fact that some terrible Austin, TX band called Recover played. They kept trying to be rockstars, and they totally weren't rockstars, and they actually said, "Hey, if you want to hang out or whatever after the show, just come find us" to the 2000+ people that were there. Yeah, dudes, wicked stage presence. Go eat an ass before you die in a horrible car accident. Let it be noted that I hated watching this band. The Promise Ring, on the other hand, were suprisingly good. I hadn't seen them since '99 when they headlined over Jets To Brazil here in Blormal, and they sounded like two man-balls bouncing on a tight rubber band. You get the picture, right? And what suprised me even more than liking the Promise Ring so much (I mean, they played "Picture Postcard" kids, come on, how can you not dig it?) was how much I liked the Jimmy Eat World light show. First, they're probably one of the tightest bands ever. They always have been, but with such a huge sound system, they sounded tweece as good. I know. I just ripped off Eminem. I'm a dork. But their light show (which I'm also usually diametrically opposed to) really complimented their songs and whatnot. Lots of cool shit going on. It made the show totally worthwhile. The only problem I had with it was that I once followed Jimmy Eat World and the Promise Ring around for an entire weekend (me and the crew hit up the Blormal, Champaign, and Chicago shows) and I know I didn't pay half as much back then (had to have been '98) to see those three shows as it took me to see this ONE! show. Que-ev. It was a good time.
The rest is all driving and sleeping and being lazy. Today rocks. We're throwing a moving out party for my roommate, Jeff. He's taking off on Thursday and stuff, and I'm going to miss him. Bastard. I need a nap now. Sorry, dudes. I'll be back tomorrow.
Hello.
I've been busy as hell these past few days. I know, it's uncannily weird for me to say that, seeing as how I still don't have a job. Weird, right? Let me fill you in (and please note that I'm not a big fan of weekend recap lists, but I feel that it really works in this situation):
Friday Afternoon: Chicago Bears training camp in beautiful Bourbonnais, Illinois. That's right ... Bourbonnais, the same town where I grew up. The Bears! It's so eerie. There were signs all over the place, and Chris Chandler was throwing the ball like perfectly, and Brian Urlacher is the tallest, meanest looking man on the planet. Yeah.
Friday Evening: Dinner with the parents. They actually fed myself and the four friends I brought up with me. Not only that, but they bought us a free case of beer as well. Aww ... parents. Awesome.
Friday Night: It's too bad we finished said case by 9:00pm. We had to head to the bars. The first one, TJ's, had a lot of golf buddies at it. Tons of fourty year old dudes in collared shirts talking about work and sports and ... next bar, please! We walk ten feet to RD's, where no one's really there, and there's no music playing which is good cause now we can take over the jukebox. Luckily my little sister called after a while and informed me that she was at a place where her and her friends were just hanging out playing cards. Guess who showed up and made a big scene? We did! Crazy.
Saturday Morning: Raid the parents fridge again. Take their Excedrin, too. Hangovers all around. We part ways with Scooter, who heads to Wisconsin. Myself, Sean, and our pal Jeff have a date with the Chicago Cubs and two hot ass chicks. To the Marc-mobile! On the drive up to Chicago Sean just randomly started counting how many beers he had (we had) last night and came up with a number between 15 and 17. Even conservatively we estimate that we killed two thirty packs between four people. Yikes. Why did we all feel groggy in the morning, I wonder? I also mentioned, after we were able to finally see the Chicago skyline (45 minutes into the drive), how it was really nice driving to the city from Bourbonnais cause there was never any traffic. Not fifteen seconds later we were stuck in motionless traffic that lasted, ironically, another 45 minutes.
Saturday Afternoon: We meet our honey's at Lee Anne's parents' place on the north side of Chicago. Her mom is kind enough to drive us down to the game so we don't have to (a) pay for parking, or (b) worry about driving drunk if we decide to just hang out in Wrigleyville all night. Her mom was nice as hell. I love me some Cubbies and some Wrigley Field. The only regrets I have about the whole ordeal is that I don't go enough and that the beer is way too expensive. Que-ev, though. Cubbies lose 2 to 1, but not until 3 of the 5 of us, not including myself, actually saw some dude get a blowjob on the upper deck patio behind home plate. I don't know the whole story. I just heard "Blowjob!" and was instantly captivated. Just in case you were wondering, I sat in section 523, row 8, seat 2. Second to last upper deck row behind home plate, and I loved every second of it. You could see everything. We hit up the Salt and Pepper Diner after the game for some eats. Good food, and they were playing Can't Hardly Wait on the tv's.
Saturday Night: I was kind of blah for the most part. Nightime plus hangovers will do that to me. We crashed a FratBash for the DePaul D-bags at one point. One of them threatened to beat us up because a bottle fell from our balcony on to his head, three floors below. Hey, dude! None of us would ever drink Mike's Hard Lemonade. If you want to beat up chicks, go ahead. That just makes you more of an asshole. Head to Rick's and saw strobe lights and dudes dancing on dudes, and lots of people in striped shirts. That must be the thing to wear these days. I wouldn't know. I guess I'm not cool enough. Que-ev. Not really happening. Still hungover, and worn out from all this activity. Decide that sleeping at Lee Anne's would be the best option. Much to our suprise we find a slew of 16 year old stoners in the basement getting biz-aked like a bunch of pro's. Myself and Sean pull the "Two Older Gay Dudes" routine and freak the fuck out of these little rap-scallions before we all call it a night at sunrise. Woke up to kids meeting their parents outside for rides home. Wow. Slumber party? Anyone? Slumber party.
Sunday Morning: See above. Slept til 1pm.
Sunday Afternoon: Sean and I bought breakfast Hot Pockets the night before, and milk chugs and orange juice, too. So we cooked it up and listened to Lee Anne shuffle the stoners out the door. We part ways with everyone and head to Woodfield Mall in Schaumburg. Woo! The mall! I changed my boxers and powdered my balls in a bathroom stall. Sean and others kept calling me at the same time. It made for interesting living, and I'm sure that the guys outside waiting for a crapper were a bit miffed, too. "Hello ... Hey, what's up? ... Meet us at Hot Topic ... I know, I know. I hate that store, too, but Sean wants to get a belt and he says they sell ones ... Yeah ... He's gay, I know ... I'm in the bathroom, and I've got no pants on ... No, the bathroom in the mall ... Yeah ... I'll be out in a minute ... Bye." After that we hit up other random, stupid stores before we ate (root beer floats) and took off for the Jimmy Eat World/Promise Ring show at the Riviera.
Sunday Night: The show was actually really cool, minus the fact that some terrible Austin, TX band called Recover played. They kept trying to be rockstars, and they totally weren't rockstars, and they actually said, "Hey, if you want to hang out or whatever after the show, just come find us" to the 2000+ people that were there. Yeah, dudes, wicked stage presence. Go eat an ass before you die in a horrible car accident. Let it be noted that I hated watching this band. The Promise Ring, on the other hand, were suprisingly good. I hadn't seen them since '99 when they headlined over Jets To Brazil here in Blormal, and they sounded like two man-balls bouncing on a tight rubber band. You get the picture, right? And what suprised me even more than liking the Promise Ring so much (I mean, they played "Picture Postcard" kids, come on, how can you not dig it?) was how much I liked the Jimmy Eat World light show. First, they're probably one of the tightest bands ever. They always have been, but with such a huge sound system, they sounded tweece as good. I know. I just ripped off Eminem. I'm a dork. But their light show (which I'm also usually diametrically opposed to) really complimented their songs and whatnot. Lots of cool shit going on. It made the show totally worthwhile. The only problem I had with it was that I once followed Jimmy Eat World and the Promise Ring around for an entire weekend (me and the crew hit up the Blormal, Champaign, and Chicago shows) and I know I didn't pay half as much back then (had to have been '98) to see those three shows as it took me to see this ONE! show. Que-ev. It was a good time.
The rest is all driving and sleeping and being lazy. Today rocks. We're throwing a moving out party for my roommate, Jeff. He's taking off on Thursday and stuff, and I'm going to miss him. Bastard. I need a nap now. Sorry, dudes. I'll be back tomorrow.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home