Caring is a total Snoozefest

When did it become hip to care about things? I guess a lot of that crap dates back to the 60’s. But it somehow seems worse in the last few years. Is it my generation, or maybe my age? And is it really wrong that I find so much of it irritating?

hahaha, awesome. <3 Chicago

I remember when I was on Campus one time a girl handed me a flyer. Thinking back, I can’t believe I didn’t know then to be leery of someone with a flyer.  She explained in some scripted way that a march would be taking place in protest of the Catholic Church’s stance on contraceptives.  The word ‘march’ was a definite turn-off, but I listened on since I didn’t fully realize what was happening to me.  Anyway, the idea of being against contraceptives is bad, considering that might help create people like the one standing in front of me, so at the moment I was tricked into believing that she had a point.  I gave her some sort of entranced response of ‘go on’, except not really ‘go on’ because who says that besides characters in a play setting up a big punch line?

She explained that in an act of protest of what turned out to be something the pope said, the group planned to march to some big church in the city, carrying a cross covered in condoms.  I hope I asked her “Are you fucking serious?” But I think all I did was scrunch up my face and throw out the flyer so she could see me do it. When I crumpled it up I think I did it real angry though, and maybe I missed the trash can on the first try, but who can remember for sure?

The fact that a bunch of white people in some way desecrating a religious symbol of ANY OTHER RELGION would have been considered ‘totally ignorant  and offensive’ by this same person wasn’t even the most annoying part. It was that in no way were they actually working to change anything.  They were just kicking up shit and freaking out squares, and I’m pretty sure anyone who actually participated in this march spent little time thinking about the issue at hand and instead thought about their awesome weird clothes and hair and how all the church people would be like “Woah! Kids today!”

He has a lot of opinions, but he smells

I swear I’m not bitter, I actually like when people believe in things.  It’s kind of endearing and reminds me of me before I started hating everything. The problem is most people believe in spreading the word on their own awesomeness.  ‘Look at how great I am for knowing about things in the world that are wrong that you’re too ignorant to understand.  I’m not lazy like you because I help people by talking about them, and taking no further action.’  If all you want to do is talk about how great you are all the time, why thinly veil it with a cause you don’t actually do anything about? Try something productive, like making sure there are really attractive photos of you on facebook so people will make complimentary comments like “super cute!” and “damn gurl, you look fine!”  Or start writing a blog!

And none of this is to say that opinions, awareness, and discussion are bad things. The self-importance is where it gets annoying, unless it’s mine, because I am important, period.  Also, I looked into it, and all my opinions are the right ones as it turns out.

So please, don’t feel the need to educate me about starving children in some country I never heard of. You’re running the risk of temporarily affecting my appetite, and you don’t know, I might have just ordered a pizza! Don’t talk to me about modern-day sexism, because I really don’t want to start taking out the garbage.  And before you speak out for some oppressed group, ask yourself, what have they done for me lately?

I felt bad when I threw that bag of Cheetos out the window, but where were you when I needed a ride to the airport?

March to your own bag-piper

It’s a very special time of year for Irish-Americans. We have an excuse to do Irish Car Bombs, sway and sing Pogues songs off-key , and eat a shit-ton of Corned beef and Cabbage. But since 2010, the celebration has felt a little emptier.



 

YELLING



Two years ago, I lost something important to me, a very special day, the South Side Irish Parade.  Sure the parade overall was pretty crappy, and it seemed like most anyone could be in it.  But that’s not the point, It combined two of my favorite things, public drunkenness and yelling. So much yelling.  And I guess I could get those things at say, a professional sporting event or perhaps the Bud Billiken parade…but would they have the charm and warmth of the South Side?

 Over the years, I continued to celebrate parade day. When we got a little bigger we thought it was funny to mess with the drunk people, and probably it was.  But it wasn’t until my teen years that I could appreciate what I had always referred to as ‘the best day of the year’.  When I think about a 19-year-old me engaging in tug of war over a bucket of beer with a cop, I have to wonder, will I ever do that again? 

IRISH RILEY!



It was after the parade of March 2009 that the committee announced they weren’t planning on holding a 2010 edition. Saying “the event had become too large for the community to accommodate and the difficulty in policing such a large crowd while maintaining the dignity of the event.” And maybe that was true. Sure there was public urination, and vomiting, and fighting. And Ok, maybe I was even guilty of a couple of those things. And I guess I can’t fault them when I think of how out of hand it had become.



Night before Parade 2009



But who among us is above a holiday that celebrates drinking early in the morning? By the way, if that doesn’t sound great to you, try walking to a parade in the cold with a hangover.  I can’t believe I can never do that again on a Sunday morning without being accused of being an alcoholic.

Anyway, I hope this teaches us all to cherish whatever traditions we have, and to celebrate hard. Because you never know when a bunch of stupid north-siders will show up on a bus and act like retards and ruin everything.



Cherish these moments



RIP Parade Day

We're long overdue for another streaker at the Oscars...

It’s Oscar season, which means one thing. Bologna party!!! Also, the Academy Awards are a week from Sunday.  There’s so much glitz, glamour, high fashion risks that I don’t understand. And there’s a room full of celebrities doing what they do best, having their ego’s stroked and being lulled into believing that the work they do is important.

I don’t mean to sound condescending, I love movies. Of course, not usually the type of movies that win Oscars… At any rate I feel I’m highly qualified to review the films up for the big prize: Best Picture. I’m super smart, have great taste, and I’ve seen two of the movies in the category so it should be a breeze.

The Fighter: I don’t see how a movie about white boxers is based on a true story. Not Oscar material.Marky, why didn’t you quite while you were ahead…in the funky bunch?



I have so many people to thank...



The Kids are All Right: A film starring Annette Bening’s gym teacher hair and a socially aware and topical premise about two lesbians raising a family. I heard this movie was pretty funny, but when my sister saw it she said it lost her when it turned out the ‘birth father’ owned some kind of organic restaurant or some shit.  LAME! The Oscars love these types of movies, they help teach the stupid American public to be more progressive. We’re all just ignorant without movies to show us that we’re all a little bit racist, thanks Crash. So I guess this is a contender, but I’m thinking if anything the turkey baster is a dark horse for Best Supporting Actor.

Black Swan: Another socially aware film, this one depicts the lives of lesbian ballerinas. I once knew a ballerina, I worked with her when I was a receptionist. She was weird! She was super boney and had Olive Oyl boobs and no bra.  She had Ron Burgandy hair and a little bit of a moustache to match.  I wonder if the film would have drummed up as much interest if this girl landed the Mila Kunis Role and plunged face first into Natalie Portman’s crotch.

The King’s Speech: From what I can tell, a boring movie about a stammering King. First of all, England is stupid. Second, this is supposed to be an inspirational film about overcoming adversity….by talking?? The Germans are coming, hope the king can finish a sentence in under 15 fucking minutes.  Unless in the end the king gains so much confidence by kicking the stuttering issue that he flips out and starts killing a bunch of Nazis, I don’t think I’ll draw much inspiration.



Wimp.



Inception: How can you steal from people’s dreams? Mine are always about being late for work, what good does that do anyone?

The Social Network: This is one of the films I actually saw! I think it was about some website or something….youtube? Anyway, the main character is a neurotic jew with a lot of money. Pretty original.

127 Hours: I’m pretty sure overcoming a boulder by cutting off your fucking arm is more impressive than overcoming a speech impediment. So right there I’ll put this movie ahead of The King’s Speech in the Oscars race. Plus James Franco is pretty fiiiine. I look forward to watching him tell Bruce Vilanch jokes.  I thought if you were fat you were supposed to be funny, and that guy is sooo super fat.


A still from one of Franco's lesser know roles from this year on General Hospital



True Grit: In this remake, Jeff Bridges pays homage to John Wayne’s Oscar winning role. I’m thinking it would have been funnier if it was the dude as a cowboy, nice going Coen brothers…

Toy Story 3: The third and final installment of the Toy Story franchise made me cry an embarrassing 3 times.  The first time I was only about ten minutes in, luckily I had 3D glasses on, which by the way, did not enhance the movie going experience at all. When will this 3D fad end? I mean, I understand why you would want to pretend the Biebs is right there with you, but beyond that…

Winters Bone….r: A film about poor people (I think). Some girl searches for her drug dealing father…lame! If I wanted to watch that I would just head over to Robbins and look for a little kid wandering around outside after midnight with no shoes on.

Ok so after careful consideration, it looks like the best picture will probably be: Lottery Ticket!!

Oh Lincoln, your birthday is so sexy!

It’s a very special time of year, the weather sucks balls, the next vacation day is super far, and I’m forced to destroy my teeth with chalky stale candies decorated with updating sayings like ‘text me’. I don’t even like ‘Sweethearts’ but there’s just so damn many of them I feel obligated to eat them or they’ll never go away. Who buys those? Stop it! We also get to celebrate the beheading of St. Valentine by going out to dinner.  And why shouldn’t we? Nobody likes saints anyway.  Always marching, and losing to the Seahawks…

                When my birthday celebration resulted in dry heaves (see ‘my very first post’) I turned on the TV and the movie ‘Valentine’s Day’ was on HBO. Aside from the jokes not being funny, and the movie shooting for mediocre at best overall, I had to ask….Am I to believe that Jessica Biel hates Valentine’s Day because she’s alone? Jessica Biel?? I’m pretty sure if I’m an old spinster in sweat pants and a bleach stained Cheryl Crow T-shirt and I’m watching Jessica Biel stress eat chocolates and rant about valentine’s day, I’m gonna hate the holiday, too. So maybe the film accomplished that much.

                In the third grade, my dad took me to the store to pick out my valentines so I could pass them out to the kids in my class.  When I saw my favorite Saturday morning cartoon on one of the cardboard boxes, as you can imagine, I was pretty fucking excited.  I couldn’t believe such a badass version of those stupid little cards existed.  I figured I was pretty much gonna blow everyone away with my valentines that had the sweet X-Men puns. I was wrong, though. Mostly I just got made fun of for buying boy Valentines. It was so disappointing.  I remember thinking everyone in my class was stupid.

I totally remember this one!!

Somewhere in my house still exists a Superman Valentine Erin McGurk gave me.  When I got it I should have figured we were kindred spirits. And maybe I would have, if amidst all the other kids teasing me for not acting like a girl, Erin had approached me and slipped her Superman valentine onto my desk, validating me, letting me know I wasn’t going to be weird all by myself. But I didn’t know Erin then, she gave me the Superman valentine when we were like 15. So mostly I just figured she was in love with me….and then I made fun of her for being weird. It wasn’t really fair, she didn’t know comic book valentines were kind of a sore spot for me…

I’m gonna point out that I’m making fun of Erin for ‘being in love with me’ when I still have the valentine she gave me ten years ago. Ok, shutup, we’re running off to Vermont together.

                This is the first Valentines that Dan and I are married.  We can go out I guess….or stay in and change into pajamas at like 6pm. Either sounds pretty dynamite to me. As long as we don’t watch that awful Valentine’s Day movie, I might have Viet Nam type flash backs and start dry heaving again. Dan can buy me chocolates I guess, don’t really care what kind though….



subliminal subliminal subliminal

        So this Valentine’s Day, snuggle up next to your significant other, a close friend, fellow passenger on the train, or perhaps the old lady in line with you in the grocery store….and raise a glass to St. Valentine, think about love, and remember that he was probably alive for a couple minutes after they cut his head off, and I’ll bet the blood was everywhere!!!

The NFL has so many outstanding citizens

New years resolution time can only mean one thing- fatties at my gym. It’s a really hard first step. I always root for them.  I also like getting onto the treadmills next to them since I’m a pretty bad runner, but guaranteed I’ll do better than they will. While they’re just narrowly escaping massive coronaries, and you wanna be their biggest cheerleaders, here are some motivational tools that have worked for me:

-Line the sides of the treadmills with empty jars and tell the fatties that after 10 minutes whoever’s jar is filled with the most sweat wins.  Tell them the big prize is $1000, when the “winner” figures out you were bluffing you’ll be able to easily outrun him.

- Handcuff them to their treadmills and tell them they can’t get off until they diarrhea out their KFC

-Video tape them in slow motion (that’s a double whammy, they’ll want to stay on long if it’s on tape, and it’s entertainment for you for later.)

I'm the ONJ of my gym... without all the fruity singing

I don’t really do any of those things.  I think the best motivator would be to go up to them and tell them what I really think- “stop sweating up the weight machines and catching your breath for ten fucking minutes, and do yourself a favor and throw those gym shoes in the trash. That way when you give up in two more days, you won’t have to watch them collecting dust by your door and mocking you on a daily basis until you finally hide them in the back of the closet along with your uneaten ‘nutri-systems’ food and deflated exercise ball….cause you popped it….cause your fat.”

It’ll be just like those movies where the dad motivates the son by never believing in him. And in the end, when the son accomplishes something there’s that tear-jerking moment where the staunch dad finally says “I love you, son.” The fatties will probably thank me in the end, too. But hopefully not tell me they love me.

I don’t plan on doing that either though. It’s not a new years resolution of mine to help anyone, especially at the gym. I usually just keep to myself and listen to my workout playlist and avoid eye contact. Of course, I need to occasionally remind myself that while my iphone is providing what I think is a soundtrack to how awesome I look working out, no one else can hear ‘Running with the Devil’. I have to remember that even though I think I look sweet as hell benching thirty pounds, I should probably stop high fiving myself in the mirror.

I guess I just get frustrated because I’m always impressed that the heavy people are making the effort, but it never lasts.

It’s super bowl Sunday, yep just like any other day. I’m not excited for the game.  I’m also probably not going anywhere so I’m not excited for meat and cheese based snacks and semi-heavy drinking.  I guess I’ll watch? It should be awesome, two old school, small market, blue collar teams facing off. The only problem is, one is the packers and the other is led by a rapist.

I’ll feel somewhat conflicted at every play. As much as I hate the idea of the packers winning the super bowl , I hate the idea of a rapist winning even more.  The Packers are definitely a worthy foe, and I guess I’ll root for…them? I think what would ideally happen is the sight of Fergie throwing Ben Roethlisberger into some kind of sex rage and he tackles and starts raping Aaron Rodgers to the song ‘I’ve got a feeling’. wooooohooooo 

Sex Rage material

I wonder how long it will take for all this snow to melt. When it does I guess everyone will see what I buried under there. Muhahahahahhhahahahaha…….

The answer is: headless dolls J

snooooooooooooway!

So it’s groundhog day. What if the snow happens again and again, and we relive this day for months? At least I wouldn’t have work. How long until we all stop shoveling?  It’s almost 3:30 which is when I usually head out of work. So far today I’ve shoveled the drive with Dan and managed to shower and change into…pajamas. YAY BLIZZARD!!!

It’s about time winter paid off post Christmas. It’s certainly been awhile.  Lately I’ve been spending these, the coldest days thinking about falling asleep in the sun after a few icy cold drinks. I fell asleep today after shoveling.

Ok, I don’t care that I’m getting wrapped up in the snowpocalypse. This was the biggest snow storm of my lifetime thus far, and possibly ever. It’s funny, Thundersnow 2011 is something we’ll always talk about. Yep, in ten years it’ll be like- remember that storm? And when that girl Elyse started her awesome blog?

I guess I’m getting a little stir-crazy at this point. I’ve checked facebook so many times I’ve developed conspiracy theories about all the status updates coming from robots. I think the thing that tipped me off was when Katie Erk made that update about motor oil being brain food, and here’s the weirdest part, Jeanine hit like! Also Dan is sitting across from me on his computer. If we were in a cartoon he would be turning into French fries.  I really want some French fries. Maybe if I bite him he’ll get me some.




Clever disguise, but you made one big mistake!

 

Dan turned on ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ because of the snow…and the nerd factor.  I’m just wondering why it’s moments after Darth Vader’s cut Luke’s hand off that he chooses to let him know he’s his dad. It just seems like poor form. What if you were adopted and approached by your birth parents…and after wincing, trying to stay appropriate and hold back your emotions you forced out the word, “D-Dad?” And he was like MACHETE TO THE FOOT!!!! Haha, buzzkill. Sure you met your dad, but you’ll never tap dance again.

I think in order to keep the snow theme going maybe we’ll watch “The March of the Penguins”.  Those penguins had to deal with way worse conditions with no snow pants. Getting caught on Lake Shore Drive would have been a breeze for them.  The best part of that movie is definitely the penguin revolt. They sneak to the igloos and start killing Eskimos with icicles and sweet ninja kicks. Then probably they all turned into French fries, well that’s what would have happened if it were my movie.  I’m available whenever some hot shot producers wanna give me a call. 3 rules, jewfaces, well 4. 1: All your names are now jewface, regardless of background. 2: Nothing in my films can be deemed too offensive or shocking. 3: I will star in all of my films. And 4: Every film will end with all the characters turning into French fries

Speaking of Lake Shore, what the fuck were those people doing driving that late? If I had to get home from the city yesterday at around 2 I’d have been like, screw you guys, I’m going home. I saw footage of them being rescued on snowmobiles this morning. The fuck? Are we in a bad futuristic action movie from the early 90’s? OOO, I should write that. In a world where Thundersnow strikes, one person is brave enough to blog in bears sweatpants. BTDubs, I have two pairs of bears sweatpants, just in case I’ve been wearing bears sweatpants like the last ten times you’ve seen me.  I’m looking in your direction, writing group.

Yes, I’m involved in a writing group now. NERD ALERT! It’s super fun, it’s what’s motivating me to write this blog. Also, this blog takes its username and title from my Xanga because I forgot the Xanga password. Also, I’m lazy.  I hope I can get some French fries without leaving the couch.

My very first post!!

Blogging is so lame, especially as a verb. Blogging. I have to blog….on the toilet, haha! I’ve been laboring for a couple weeks to think about something worth posting about. I figured I’d better just sit down and start writing.

I went to school for writing afterall. What’s that all about? I do like writing, a lot actually. It’s pretty self-indulgent though. Maybe that’s not true for everyone, but definitely for me. I mostly just like doing it so people will laugh at my jokes and tell me I’m funny so I can be all like, I know! I think so too! Isn’t it great how we agree on how talented and amusing I am?  Here’s some food for thought: what if I’m retarded and everyone is always laughing at me and not with me?  ‘Food for thought’ is a cliché, and you shouldn’t use those when writing, that’s something I learned at writing school. I used to take this cool bus to my classes, it was short. Wait a minute!!

The other thing about going to school for art is, as it turns out all people think they’re special in some way. The thing of it is, if you’re thinking that, odds are instead of concentrating on how unique/brilliant/talented you are, most people are thinking those things about themselves. Oh god, I’m talking myself out of writing this blog!

That’s kind of how I feel about my birthday…conflicted?  I have the birthday blues. I get them every year. I think it’s mostly because January sucks so much. It makes me wish tanning didn't cause cancer. I usually get over Debbie-downer state when the “me centered” celebrating commences and I remember how much I like attention. You probably knew that already if you were reading this….since it’s a blog.

Birthday tantrums might just be the funniest tantrums of all.  I think it’s the pointy hats.  Yep, whether you’re celebrating or throwing a hissy fit, strap on a pointy hat and hilarity ensues.  Probably why Klu Klux Klan members are so entertaining, while skin heads are a bunch of sour-pusses. 




A birthday mating ritual...

 

I’m thinking Karaoke to ring in a quarter of a century of Elyse. I’m seeing an aforementioned pointy hat, and a breakdown in the middle the stage while claiming between sobs over the instrumental crescendo of a Journey song to be determined that “my birthday is ruined!” Should be a fun time.

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Ok, so I got a little distracted on the way to posting this online.  Birthday weekend and all... I feel the need to bring everyone up to speed. Birthday=over. I’m a little relieved, although I got some good loot and homemade pizza  mmm.

There was ‘karaokeeing’.  As it turns out, the song to be determined was, of course, drum roll please- “Don’t Stop Believing”.  I did sing that, but I didn’t sob that my party was ruined. I was doing pretty Ok until the end of the evening when I felt myself floating in and out of consciousness and was unable to pull the trigger on a drunk, kind of fat dumb chick who wanted to start a fight. You might be wondering how I could let this happen. But then again it was only an hour or so into having turned 25 that I celebrated by re-acquainting myself with my pasta dinner, oh man let me tell you, did we ever get re-acquainted!



We were so awesome, then we barfed so much



Is the problem that in my unmotivated journey toward maturity I’ve learned nothing? Or does this puking deal really get worse as I get older? Every time is like a surprise now. A horrible, horrible surprise. Like how I hurt my foot at the gym last week. Am I…aging?? After a coma on the couch I spent Saturday morning (my birthday) dry heaving….dry heaving loudly. So loud that it woke Dan up even though I was in the basement. I’m a loud barfer, and while my hangovers seem to be getting worse, some things never change.

Ready for this adventure? Too bad, it’s not an adventure, it’s a blog…stupid. Please continue to read, or don’t. I don’t really care. Actually, I hate you.