I took some time OFF!!

I arrived at the Memorial Day bbq, five hours before everyone else. I brought with me 3 pounds of special custom sausage from a local italian deli, homemade mango salsa, tortilla chips, a salad with a homemade citrus vinergrette, a six pack of Coronas, half a bottle of whiskey and a 2 liter bottle filled to the brim with ice cold premixed G&Ts. I set up my imitation crazy creek, placed my straw hat upon my head and adjusted the shoulders on my madras jacket. I poured myself off a large glass of 9 am whiskey, pealed a banana and began the waiting game. If there is one thing that can be held against this annual bbq it’s that it has become so big and glorious that invariably people you don’t know or hate will show up and eat your mango salsa. People began arriving around noon. The first to arrive were good old friends with which I hold a special bosom chummery. We exchanged passionate hugs and immediately began breaking bread together while discussing various memories of past encounters. Moments later however a couple arrived who’ve I’ve always considered truly represhensible. They were carrying left overs from one of their parents house and sat in lawn chairs like a bunch of big shots.

Working Boy: So, how did you guys find out about the bbq? I haven’t seen you in like two years. So....how’s stuff?
Them: Oh you know, it’s all about us all the time.
W.B: Cool, cool. Hey so An Doof Ass knows someone you went to grade school with.
Them: Oh wow! I never thought they would hang out. I thought the individual in question was more conservative than that.
W.B: What the hell are you talking about?
Them: well, you know, you’re friends aren’t exactly conservative.
W.B: You mean all my friends who worship the Triune God of Christianity with orthodox vigor? Those wacky liberal friends of mine?
Them: Yeah, but I don’t expect you to understand. I mean, you’re drunk right now and it’s just past noon.
W.B: How dare you criticize a bbq drunkening?!

After that they wander around for about an hour waiting for their friends to arrive. Meanwhile I played catch and cooks up sausage and listened to the Twins game on the radio. As the day wore on, I started getting hungover around 2 and tried to get back on the drinking train with pretty good success. After this I couldn’t really remember much, I remember playing softball and hitting two grand slams before injuring my wrist rescuing baby squirrels from an oncoming train. I also did some dip and got a tummy ache. All in all, I arrived home at 11 at night thoroughly sunburned with a throbbing headache and a 12 pack of Miller Light that I swiped from some people who had no business being at my bbq in the first place.

An ACCOUNTABILITY!@!!

Last week I dusted off my Murray Spectra 21 speed (which now is only a two and half speed) filled up the tires and began biking to work. Unlike some people who find riding bikes exhilarating or good for them or what have you, I hate riding it. I hate the wind, the cars, the female bicyclists constantly passing me, my milk crate falling off the back rack, everything. Why do I do it then? Because I hate paying money for anything that isn’t cashmere, trophies or alcohol. So far I haven’t gotten into any accidents although I did clip a parked Corolla (this stays between you and me) yesterday trying to scratch my back while changing lanes without signaling. This may sound reckless or irresponsible, but all bikers do it and I’ll be damned if i won’t be the same menace as the rest on the road.

In other news, I’ve begun going through my monthly expenses in an effort to reign in my extravagances for the upcoming summer financial drought. So far I haven’t found much to cut. I can’t stop drinking now when alcohol will become my 9 to 5 friend and confidant, and smoking has become as much a part of me as male pattern baldness or razor burn, and the day I quit buying at least two pairs of double monk shoes a month is the day they put my cold, dead well shod corpse in the ground. So, considering these three factors account for over 400 dollars in expense every two weeks, I’m rather stumped as to how I’m going make this work. Thus far I’ve decided that no A/C will be used this summer. Nor will there be the use of either hot or tepid water and I shall eat nothing but beans while increasing the consumption of appetite repressing cigarettes.

In closing, this weekend I accidently got drunk with a bunch of strangers while waiting for the Wife to finish up at the optometrist. It was a pretty good time and I was introduced to a whole slew of Irish whiskeys that were praised for their thrift and smooth, shootable flavor. After buying Dave his seventh shot of Jagermestier, he had the decency to promise to introduce me to Angelo who runs a horse racing service out of his apartment on Waveland Avenue. As the Preakness was being run that day, Dave had various bets going and we watched the race together. Let me tell you there’s nothing like watching a horse race with a man whose got money riding on it.

Dave: Here we go.

Working Boy: This is so exciting!

Announcer: And they’re off.

Dave: Run you son of bitch! Run you cocksucking horse’s ass!

Working Boy: Who are we cheering for!

Dave: Odds over evens across the board with a flop on the whisker and double down on the summer corn. Run you virgin whore of stallion!

Working Boy: I love all the pretty colors the little men are wearing.

Dave: Damn it! Fuck!

Working Boy: Did we win?

It turned out that Dave did not only did not win but lost 300 dollars. It was cool though because he was "good for it this month."

monday, monday, monday

the 3rd annual memorial day b-b-q will soon be here. just fyi, i have already began marinating various pieces of pig and cow and will hollow out a watermelon to be filled with rum, watermelon flesh and pineapple chunks. While I will stick with bourbon, I am told the concoction is quite inticing. Baseball gloves are being oiled up and frisbee dusted off. Seersucker will be worn.

DEATH OF A WORKING BOY!

As I pack up the Peanuts characters and photos that have come to become constant companions over the past few years, I am confronted with the harsh reality of unemployment and all it entails. Ever the optimist however I am determined and confident in my ability to create a new, more powerful persona that is hellbent on getting what he deserves consequences, friends, family, legal restrictions be damned. Luckily, I have already begun to refine and enhance some of the finer points of my new persona. A persona so inherently “me” and brilliant, I’m embarrassed I didn’t think of it sooner. For you see, Working Boy is but a small supernova of gaseous brilliance soon to be replaced by the magnificient blackhole that is....The Renaissance Urban Sportsman (TRUS).

What is an TRUS you ask? Well, quite simply, he’s man who has a closet full of ties and sports jackets that he wears while sitting behind the mirrored glass of an OTB site with an unlit Swisher Sweet in one hand and a hand full of racing stubs in the other. That’s right TRUS plays the ponies.

You see, I’ve always wanted to try my hand at a gambling addiction ever since a dirty chipped tooth bar jockey told me all about the exciting world of “win” “place” and “show.” Not only that, but when I learned most of the people who spend their summer days inside a smoke filled and cluttered room watching tv screens were old, lonely men and hobos, I knew I would feel right at home. I even have a strategy: bet on the horse that will win.

Of course, TRUS won’t just spend his days in the luxury boxes of Wells and Randolph. Oh no, he’s smarter than that. He’ll be smart enough to know when the horse creatures aren’t going to cut it. When the, uh, spur isn’t, um, spurring. And on those days he’ll sit in his apartment and day trade on the margins.

Of course, day trading is a tricky species but if you know what you’re doing you’re guaranteed to make lots of money really fast with little to no risk. The plan is simple: Buy in big on margins and sell high minutes later and then retire to a plush condo in Rogers Park overlooking the lake and jewish delis.

Working Boy: Who do you think you are?
The Renaissance Urban Sportsman: Just the greatest thing ever.
W.B: You’re so attractive and confident.
TRUS: Am I? I guess it just comes naturally. Naturally like the women I now attract like bees to fresh mountain honey.
W.B: Wow.
TRUS: Oh yeah. You have a lot to learn Working Boy. Come take my hand and I’ll tell you all the latest gossip from the Wednesday afternoon library crowd.
W.B: Why didn’t I think of all this sooner?
TRUS: Because the man was getting you down.

Since I, well, um...

I just put in my two weeks notice, so presumably that means I will have more time to blog. I assume this also means the return of "college andy" with all the awesome drunken rampages and a loss of basic hygiene thereto entailed. This should rule/destroy me.

so here's the totally awesome deal

I'm completely swamped at work and have been for the last two weeks. also, i just went to the doctor because of a horrible, lingering sickness and learned I have a severe sinus infection that has spread into my lungs. This is awesome as I am now am on antibiotics and a nasal spray. I predict superhuman strength will set in within the week.

in other news, i forgot when people are moving to alaska. i know they told me but i forgot again. I'll be out of town this weekend but will be back next week. I'm thinking madras party. Thoughts?