Christmas Retarded.

I love that as you get older, Christmastime begins to lose its luster and allure you often associated the holiday with as a kid. For instance, I have no fucking clue what I want for Christmas. I feel like I should have several grandiose presents mapped out in my head, but all I can think of are practical gifts. I just don't care that much. It becomes more about the stress of what you're going to get others instead of stressing out about what you're going to get. I don't know which one's better or worse. When asked, I told my mom I wanted a paper shredder...a paper shredder. This is what popped in my head. I also need new shoes. Not to be fashion conscious or anything. Simply because my current shoes are falling apart. Why can't I be more creative with what I ask for? Do I not have it in me anymore?

I can possibly attribute this transformation to my childhood when I asked for a Power Wheel every year of my life until I was probably around 15, and I never got one. This obviously has scarred me terribly, and I've never recovered. Being disappointed year in and year out had such a negative effect on my psyche that I'm surprised I ever learned how to tie my own shoes. My older brother (he's 31) is getting a Wii for Christmas this year. That seems like fun, but I can't ever imagine having one. I can, however, imagine getting a paper shredder.

I'm not gonna lie, Christmas has just kind of become a headache. I'm not good at getting presents for people either...just not creative enough. I've come to grips with that. So, that doesn't bring me great joy because I always feel like the recipient is just a little bummed out that he or she got another gift certificate to Best Buy, Target, etc. My uncle, whom I haven't seen in like four years, gets me a gift certificate to Best Buy. See, now that makes sense. I wish I could go to a self-help seminar solely dedicated to teaching the gift-giving-disabled how to properly purchase a creative, heartfelt present and deliver it to its intended recipient.

I can't even imagine what it would be like if I had a family consisting of more than five people. That'd be fucking tough. The mental energy I'd have to spend trying to think up presents would probably result in a painfully crippled mind that wouldn't fully recover until after January...at least.

All that being said, I am kind of looking forward to the paper shredder. I'm a dork.

Ode to Thanksgiving.

Along with Halloween, I'm pretty sure Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I'm taking both the day before and day after Thanksgiving off from work to return to my birthplace and enjoy the company of friends and family. Let me take you through my anticipated schedule of entertainment (just the highlights) once I get back to Cincinnati.

I'll probably get in around mid-afternoon on Wednesday and immediately do a shit ton of laundry at my mom's. That's right. I'm driving dirty laundry from Chicago to Cincinnati. This doesn't seem as illogical to me as it does to others. Because of my eccentric landlords, I have weird ass time constraints on when I can do my laundry at my house. I often work late, and I never have fucking quarters. My mom's washer and dryer are efficient and free. I'm looking forward to this. Doing laundry is like a 3 hour vacation. You're doing something, but not really.

Wednesday night marks the biggest drinking night of the year. I've never really understood this. People feel the need to get loaded before they meet up with their family the next day. Wouldn't it be more uncomfortable to be hung over around a bunch of relatives expecting you to make inane small talk? This is why I love my family. It's fucking tiny. No small talk required. Me, my brothers, stepdad, niece, and mom. Nice and simple. Anyway, Wednesday night will almost definitely be spent hanging out with everyone that is awesome to me at one of three places I drink at in Northside, Ohio. I'll get drunk and become louder than usual.

Thursday will be spent loafing around my mom's house and foolishly not eating in anticipation of a hearty meal. I make the same mistake every year. I don't eat all day because I think I need to maintain maximum capacity for all of the starch (mashed potatoes, stuffing/dressing, macaroni & cheese, rolls, etc.) I'm going to delicately pack in my gut. This system is no good. My stomach's so small by the time I eat that I can only handle three helpings of mashed potatoes. Unacceptable and embarrassing. And as I'm writing this, I know I'll do the same thing this year. Of course football's on, but I honestly can't remember the last time I watched an entertaining game on Thanksgiving. I'm assuming this has something to do with the fact that the Lions are always fucking dreadful and I despise the Cowboys. Regardless, it is football, and I will both watch and enjoy it. At the end of the night, we'll eat pumpkin pie and my mom will ask what we want for Christmas all the while repeating she can't spend too much money this year. None of will have an answer and none of us will believe her.

Friday will hopefully be tackle football day. Is there any other kind? I want it to be just like the Brett Favre Wrangler jeans commercial too. That's how I envision it. A bunch of old-school hardcore kids getting passes thrown to them by Brett Favre as he discusses the advantages of Wrangler jeans and smiles that sweet Mississippi smile. Oh by the way, every throw will be well out every receiver's reach forcing him or her to dive into a endless swamp of mud to make the grab. Sounds great. I will be horribly sore the next day from moving muscles that aren't used to getting any action and having the shit kicked out of me for two hours straight. Can't wait.

The Thanksgiving trip will culminate on Saturday night with what is sure to be the matchup of the millennium. The geniuses of the world have finally decided to come out with a Seinfeld Scene-It and the top Seinfeld aficionados in the universe (me, Justin, Kenny, and Billy) will battle it out for ultimate nerd supremacy. We've been talking for years about the possibility of this thing coming out and someone heard our prayers. I've had more than one friend tell me that they just want to be there to watch the battle. It will be both ridiculous and great. Amazing and pathetic. Fun and sad.

Sounds like a good trip to me.

Common Denominator.

Justin and Heidi came up this past weekend and we had a grand old time. We ate Ethiopian food, explored the city, discussed the ins and outs of the great cinema classic the Fugitive, and finally got in some much needed sports talk. Justin is my primary sports confidant in this world because we pretty much have the same outlooks, witty opinions, and disdain for certain players and/or announcers (looking at you Favre and Berman). Anyway, after they left and I got done sobbing into my pillow, I started thinking about how awesome it is that I can talk sports with anyone. Sports knowledge creates a common denominator across different realms of society and has really helped me out in certain situations.

First and foremost, I get along with parents, particularly parents of someone I'm currently dating. I attribute this to sports for the most part. Being around a girlfriend's parents is always going to be slightly awkward, but it's a little less when you have a universal subject of interest that you can dissect intelligently. Parents, especially fathers, aren't usually the most approachable people when you first meet them. I've greatly benefited from my sports smarts with the last couple of girls I dated because I can always retreat into a discussion about the Reds or Bengals or Bearcats or whatever. It's awesome. A father can disassociate me from being the kid who's dating his daughter, and instead just look at me as some kid who knows Aaron Harang's ERA or the score from yesterday's Ohio State game. Plus, there's always something to talk about. Uncomfortable silences are for suckers. I usually get along better with the fathers than the daughters, and I'm kind of okay with that.

Sports talk also puts you in touch with a different ilk of people. Not terrible people, just people I may not normally hang out with or talk to. For instance, a friend of mine came into town a couple of weeks ago with a few of her co-workers. My friend and I went out to eat Indian food and later met up with her boss and co-worker at an absolutely atrocious piano bar where they covered "Sweet Home Alabama" and various Kid Rock songs...on the piano. Ugh. Anyway, as I stood there uncomfortably around a bunch of people I would probably never talk to or have anything in common with, her boss (an outspoken, wealthy Republican) and I got to talking about the Bengals. With the screeching hell of people singing "And I'm proud to be an American..." in the background (and he was enjoying the place mind you), we had found a common ground. Although I was still uncomfortable, the pain was alleviated if just for a moment. Just long enough for me to get the fuck out of there.

Also, and I'm not trying for this to sound cocky even though it probably will, I like the fact that people are surprised when I can talk sports with whomever I want. More than one person has said it's "weird" that I know so much about sports, but I can't help the fact that it's just one of those things that sticks in my mind. This weekend Justin and I were discussing Larry Johnson's "Grandma-ma" character of the early 90s when he was a semi-impressive player with the Charlotte Hornets trying to hock sneakers. Why the hell do we remember that era? Why can I recite every World Series and Super Bowl winner since 1990? Sports trivia sticks in my head, and while I went through an "I'm not going to pay attention to sports because I'm way too cool for that" period, I'm fucking glad it didn't stick. Otherwise, what would I have to talk about?

Yesterday.

I went down to Grant Park last night for Obama rally just to "take it all in" and meet a couple of friends all the while knowing I wasn't going to stay. Guess what? It was a happy mess of madness. I may have stayed longer had I had somewhere or something or someone to hook my bike to. Yeah, that wasn't going to happen. So, I huffed it back home on the delightfully desolate streets of Chicago. Seriously, I've never scene Milwaukee Avenue that empty at 9 PM. It was great. Chicago has been abuzz in anticipation of the election, and it's been a sight to behold. One of its own was soon to be anointed, and while I have never claimed to be the most politically savvy or knowledgeable person, excited people smiling make me smile and excited.

This election seemed quick. Particularly because the first election I truly followed was the 2000 election with the Florida debacle. I was up until 3 in the morning watching that thing, and went to bed not knowing who won. I equate it to watching the entire 1991 World Series between the Twins and the Braves (best series I've ever witnessed) and going to bed after the ninth inning with the score tied at zero. It killed me to go to bed, but I just couldn't stay up anymore. Obama took care of his shit in this one though, and we can all really thank the key swing state of Ohio because once he got the heart of the country, it was pretty much over. Not a moment too soon either. Obama looked like he was going to pass out from sheer exhaustion when he was making his impressive speech.

Where it goes from here, I don't know. The stock market threw-up some more today and a few Wall Street big shots took a few steps closer to that open window as the economy nears the middle of the toilet bowl. The Reader eloquently summed it up with this issue's cover reading "Don't Screw It Up." I like my job.

Oh and by the way, California voted yes on Proposition 8, only recognizing heterosexual marriage as a legal union. This is happening literally on the heels of the Supreme Court legalizing gay marriage only a few months ago. Now, several once legal marriages are unfairly suspended in limbo. What the fuck? That's sad.

This is as political as I'm going to get. Sorry for the strangeness. I'll go back to sports next post. I promise.

This Is Going Nowhere.

My senses are being flooded by the 5th and potentially last game of the World Series and the Colts vs. Titans game. I don't know which one I want to watch more and can't seem to make any sort of decision, so I've retreated to this blog, which I had to blow the dust off of from a general lack of use.

One of my best friends (Shortie) came up here this past weekend with his girlfriend, and Justin's coming up in two weeks (I'm keeping fingers crossed) with his lovely wife Heidi. This greatly pleases me because lord knows I need someone to talk to about sports, and just someone to rehash two-year old jokes with that no one in this bohemith of a city understands. I like my friends.

Anyway, Shortie and I got in the discussion about work and the effects working a "real job" inflict on your psyche. Shortie slings mail for a living, and I'm pretty sure he dislikes/despises it overall. No other way of saying it. Now, I have my first "real job" in my life in which I wake up at 6:30 AM and go to bed at like 11 PM. This is no good. Along with Shortie, I was one of those people who said that I could never go to bed before midnight. It would virtually be impossible for me to even yawn my before the change of day. Yeah, well we were both full of shit.

Given, I'm taking a big step back here, but we talked about how we used to stay up until 6 in the morning every night when we were just out of high school. Everything moved much slower to the point of a delirious yet enjoyable boredom. All of my friends, and let me remind you that we didn't drink or do drugs, used to sit in a pathetic park, which basically consisted of a single gazebo, for six hours and just bullshit about nothing. It almost seemed like there were too many hours in the day to fill with interesting activity or just entertaining fluff, but as you get older, the time dwindles down to about three hours after you get off of work. I'm not really bitching or trying to get all introspective, it's just strange to think about. It just gives you a different perspective when you can talk to people you've been friends with since you were like 15. You can kind of map out the journey/movement of your life over the past 12 years because you both basically went through the same shit.

I like my job for the most part. I work tons and don't make that much money, but I get to basically deal with music all day and wear whatever I want to work. It's a relaxed environment and no one's breathing down my neck. You've gotta appreciate that. But it's just strange to know that I'm going to be going to work Monday-Friday and that I'm probably going to be in bed by 11 and waking up at the time I used to go to bed 10 years ago.

Similar to one of Justin's posts from a couple of weeks ago, I started into this thing without a topic in mind, and now I've spent too much time writing to delete it. Maybe there's a nugget or two in there, but this is really just a comment on my friend visiting me this weekend and a conversation we had when we were both drunk.

So there you have it.

Golden Age of Sitcoms.

So, I wake up every morning and watch ESPN (my news channel) as I'm eating breakfast. Part of the routine. Nice way to start the day in my opinion. However, there are times when I'll flip through the channels during a nauseating segment involving any of the football analysts, Chris Berman, or some fluff, sentimental garbage. On rare occasions when I'm flipping channels, I'll run across some early morning episodes of Saved by the Bell, and to be honest, I kind of get excited. I used to fucking love Saved by the Bell when I was growing up and genuinely looked forward to getting home from school, plopping myself down in front of the TV, and watching a good solid hour of some high school hi-jinks orchestrated by Zack Morris.

But when I try to sit through an episode now, hell even ten minutes of one, I find it absolutely unbearable. The show's terrible...fucking terrible. A.C. Slater wears tank tops to school everyday. Lisa Turtle finds any way to insert "dork" into every sentence involving poor Screech (How about I make a dork omelet out of you? What?). Zack Morris owns a cell phone the size of a pineapple in 1990. Jesse Spano is an uptight, snobby bitch. Mr. Belding has way too much time on his hands mainly as a result of only having to deal with about 24 students, which seems to be the entire population of Bayside. Two classrooms, a hallway, and a gymnasium the size of a garage. Oh, and I don't even know where to begin with Screech. No one would be friends with Screech, especially the "cream of the crop" of Bayside High. The only person I accept is Kelly Kapowski because she's good looking.

My main point is I used to watch a lot of unfunny shit as a kid. We all did. Saved by the Bell is nostalgic, and I understand that. But could you really sit through an entire episode right now and enjoy it? I'm going to say no. When I watch any of the sitcoms I once loved, I'm baffled. Well, not baffled. I know why I liked them then, but it's just funny to see it from a different (older) perspective and realize how unfunny something is that you thought was hilarious. There are a few mainstays, though. One of them being the Cosby Show because it was clever. While it had it's cheeseball moments, it knew what it was trying to accomplish and usually did so effectively (well, not in the later seasons...that's when it started sucking). Anyway, I'm going to ramble off a few of the shows I used to ritualistically watch and quickly explain why I now find them to be examples of unbelievably bad TV.

Home Improvement - This is the one sitcom that was "family time" for me. My entire family loved this shit and we made a point to sit down together and watch it each week. The story is the exact same every episode. The intolerable Tim Taylor gets into a pickle, asks Wilson's advice, misinterprets it, makes the situation worse, and then somehow wraps the show up unscathed. Tim Allen is so far from funny it's astonishing.

Full House - Wow...where do I even begin? Sentimental, "cute" comedy, moral-laden terribleness. All of the characters are bad, so I'll just focus on the worst - Joey Gladstone. I don't remember one point during the lifespan of the show (and me watching it) in which Joey said one funny thing. Not one. And if you didn't notice, that's his deal. He's supposed to be a fucking comedian. When the show first started, he lived in an alcove. A grown man living in an alcove. How he didn't blow his brains out, I'll never know. Did Joey Gladstone ever get laid throughout the history of the show? I don't see how he could have. His Popeye impression may be the root of all things evil and wrong with the world today.

Growing Pains - I agree with Bill Simmons when he says that the fact Mike Seaver had a friend named Boner is hilarious. It is. That's all the show has. Nothing really memorable aside from Tracey Gold being anorexic and Kirk Cameron freaking out, going militant religious, and basically refusing to doing anything in the show that was even slightly controversial or risky for his character. Those were the most popular story lines of the show and they weren't even relevant to the actual sitcom. That should tell you something. And by the way, Alan Thicke is the star and central figure of the show. Enough said.

Webster - Man, I wish I could have lived in the mansion that the Papadopolis' had after they moved out of their apartment. Remember all the secret passageways and strangeness? Awesome. If I ever have the opportunity to live in a house with a dumbwaiter, I'm taking it. No questions asked. All I would do is hide and freak people out all day. Damn, that shit would be so much fun. Oh yeah, this show kind of sucked. But I sure do love saying Papadopolis.

Others that are coming to mind but I'm not going to expound on: Perfect Strangers, Step by Step, Family Matters, Boy Meets World

Shows that pulled it off most of the time: Cosby Show, Wonder Years, Family Ties, Roseanne

Fall Highlights.

Football and the Baseball Playoffs - first and foremost. October is the best month for sports...hands down.

Pumpkin Ale - this shit should be served year round. I always try and stock up before Winter when you're bombarded with a bunch of seasonal porters.

American Apparel Flex-Fleece Hoodies - these things are the best and I have like five. A definite plus to having worked there.

The smell of bonfires/campfires/nature burning - can this smell be bottled into a cologne form? I know a lot of people hate on it, but I have some nice memories.

Going to Shows - Time to be inside a little bit more, and why not go watch great shit? Fall is an excellent time to go to see music, and tons of notable bands come through town this time of year.

Running in Sweatshirts and Sweatpants - doesn't sound too appealing right? Remember, though, I like to sweat.

Fashion Options - there are just way more layering opportunities and other possible fashion transformations. More clothes...duh.

Halloween - haunted houses are the fucking best. When some sort of ghoul, zombie, or mass murderer catches me off guard I clap my hands and curse. It's like I've been foiled or something, and I'm mad at myself. I love it.

Soup - basically eat (or is it slurp) soup consistently throughout the season. Put some lentil soup in an IV for me and I'm all set.

Tackle Football - complete soreness the next day, but it's the kind of soreness that makes you feel like you've accomplished something.

Sleeping - wrapping yourself up in extra blankets is always a great idea. Especially with a space heater sitting right next to you.

Done.