I am a celebrity!

I came across this site that is touting their superior facial recognition prowess that is still in beta stage. So I tried it out.

Sweet baby lord Jesus!

It is nowhere near beta stage! How about fractional alpha stage?!? See for yourself!!!

It's Sunday, and I have to go to confession...

What an awesome weekend! And it just sucks that it has to end like this: spending the final waking hours on the last flight out to North Carolina. Blah. As such, I'm blogging on the plane so that when I get to Raleigh, I can just crash hard. Something which I seriously need right now.

In all honesty, the weekend did not start out promising. I mean, while driving to Sugar River Forest Preserve for the much anticipated camping trip, we encountered a monsoon rain so torrential that I thought we were in India or something! Take a look! But thankfully, things turned out way better than anyone could ever hoped for. At least for me, despite enduring two days of rain.

I guess recently I have been kind of stressed out over something in my life, and the weekend was a good release. Unfortunately it manifested in a bad sort of a way. My behavior was horrible! I was mean and evil. And I feel the need to go to church and confess. But seeing that my frequent church going card has logged hardly any miles in recent memory, I guess you will have to be my pseudo-priest and listen to my sins. Whether or not you can provide guidance to the pearly gates is a totally different matter. So here goes, in no particular chronological order.

• Did not have time to take a shower after getting home, and I smell just like Deet, sweat, Miller Lite and Tequila at the moment. Oh, and I did not shower on Friday or Saturday either! Talk about sticky pits. Poor guy who is sitting next to me. And I'm wearing the same tank top as the one I wore all weekend long for good measure.
  
• Somehow the four of us who rode up together, Bob, Dave and Cliff, made the theme for this year's camping trip kacang, despite this trip wasn't even put together by me! And, ahem, kacang is Ethiopian for "toast" or "cheers." Seriously!
  
• Made fun of people.
  
• Played kickball with a Hello Kitty ball.
  
• Was being somewhat of a racist. Against my own kind, no less! And then played the race card to get out of situations. Not just once, but in many situations!
  
• Left my second battery for my camera at home. Bad Asian!
  
• Lusted after a pregnant jailbait. And she wasn't even there! {Actually, she could very well be legal in a few states!}
  
• Lied while playing I Never. Four times to be exact. Or it could have been nine. Why?
  
• Between Bob and I, we put away 4/5 of a handle of Captain Morgan's and three cases of Miller Lite. Katie "Classic" better be proud of me.
  
• Was being totally mean to a few select individuals, after finding out what they did to my friends. I am not one to judge, yet I was an asshole to them. In front of them without shame!
  
• One word: Pugs! It was all fun and games until someone decided to give a meaning which was not even my original intention: Pretty Ugly Girls.
  
• Made out with a girl from another campsite, not just once, not twice, nor thrice. Hell I lost count. And we did a few other naughty stuff together. Until she got really drunk and then her boyfriend came to take her back. Damn! I did not know she was with someone! Honestly! {Note a future blog titled "The grass is always greener on the other side."}
  
• Said damn just now.
  
• "You know how I know you're gay?"
  
• Accepted Katie's dare during Truth or Dare. Innocent enough, right? Until the dare was a duel involving a 3/5 full bottle of tequila. And I stupidly kept up through it until there was just a little bit shy of an inch of tequila left in the bottle. Oh, the sin wasn't drinking in this case. It was conceding the battle to her!
  
• Was a total dick to a friend, or a supposed friend {that's still up for debate with her}, for just a second with just one word in a passing moment.
  
• Did something so wrong that I can't even divulge the details here. But most would agree that I pretty much RSVP'ed to hell with that act.
  
• Undressed hot jailbaits in my mind when we stopped at the oasis on our way back home.
  
• Did not touch the healthy breakfast I brought {whole grain cereal, whole grain granola bars, soy milk and orange juice}, but instead cracked open a can of Miller Lite the minute I woke up in the morning.
  
• Peer pressured others implicitly by my actions. And I wore a cloak of deceit to hide the actual fact of said actions.
  
• I think I may have stolen something on Thursday night from Target.
  
• Having too many sentence fragments. Me Chinese. No English good.

So yeah, there you have them. I was a bad boy who needs to be spanked. But I have confessed.

Although I didn't get sick throughout last night, each time I breathed out today, I could still feel and smell the tequila fumes coming out of my mouth. That was making me gag once in a while and I thought I was going to get sick.

As a present to you for having stayed with me throughout my confession, I give you my pictures of the fun-filled weekend.

Note: This is meant to be funny and stretching the truth a little bit {on just a few, unfortunately}, so please don't feel shocked that I was all that evil. My How Evil Are You? assessment result was only 84 percent. Except the shower bit. That was all true. =)

Go on. Be a Tiger.

Yesterday at work, I was battling against falling asleep while on a webcast call. Think conference call, but all entirely streamed over the Internet. Topic? Diversity.

You may think that this is a very important topic and that I shouldn't be falling asleep, and I agree wholeheartedly. But being a minority myself, the first month or so on the job pretty much gave me the feel and attitude of the company, regardless of what they preach through PR. And I have to say thankfully I B M really does practice what they preach. But still, this was a mandatory meeting for everyone because diversity not only covered race, but many other aspects such as disability and sexual orientation.

People who have known me over the years have always said that I'm sort of a pessimist when it comes to me. And I always correct them by saying that I'm just a realist, and a false sense of optimism is not always healthy. I guess you can say that some people get sick and tired of me being hard on myself.

Why? Because I'm never satisfied. No matter how good I am at anything, especially my job and career, I always want to set the bar higher. And yesterday, I realized that I am not the only one. While listening to the webcast, I realized that those with disabilities are just like me. They have a strong desire to be successful. They generally don't want to be treated differently, or be given slack. They want to perform like their peers, and be evaluated likewise. Some of these people have reached heights in their career that just makes you sit in awe.

How do they do it? I am sure they push themselves hard. They never want to take what their initial abilities can take them as the standard. They never pity themselves. They hardly pat themselves on their own backs when they reached their goal. They simply set their goals higher. They are hard on themselves. And I can identify with that.

Random Thoughts on a Friday Morning

Busy, and so not in the mood to blog. At least properly... But I'll do it in business school style/format. =)

• I'm capable of going to work at 08:00 with just three hours of sleep! I think that is some sort of a personal record. Thank God for Caribou Coffee across the street from my "office." Unthankfully, this is the first time I've touched coffee in months! Let the uncontrolled jitters and shakes, and upset stomach begin!


• Twice (different days) I have gone to the Shitty Bank {aka CitiBank} branch on Franklin and Adams, and twice I have seen this sketchy hoodlum in the NE corner. It's an old, gray pigeon with really rustled up feathers who just sits there and is not afraid of people. I turned the corner and almost kicked him, but he just stood there, inches away from my shoes. Just like those "bums" you see loitering around corners of Chicago. I'll have to take a picture of him the next time I go to Shitty Bank. From this day henceforth, I shall call him Old Rustled Bum.


• Oh my God! So many times I have gone to work in the loop, and today it finally dawned on me. While walking to aforementioned Shitty Bank, I noticed some tourists taking pictures at what I thought was the sky. Well, I looked up, hot damn! I had no idea that the Sears Tower is right by my work! Actually, in truth, I didn't know where it was before, other than the general idea that it is just south of everything downtown. Now I know. With each passing day, I'm getting closer to being a certified Chicagoan.

Trust

About once a year, I get reminded in a specific way about trust. It is the basic, and most simple, building block to everything--life, relationships, et cetera.

Not many know of all the various love affairs and passions I have. You can say that Maria and Christine found out a week ago that automobile racing is one of them. Another one, well, only my family and those who have grown up with me through school would know--being an air force pilot.

I still vividly remember pictures of me when I was young, donning my cousin's uniform when he was active in the Republic of China Air Force (Taiwan). {Not to be confused with the communist People's Liberation Army Air Force.} This was in line with one of those dreams which I also wanted to become the president of Taiwan. Both dreams were shattered as I grew older. The deterioration of perfect eyesight, and my family moving to Indonesia were big contributors that steered my life away from my dreams.

Both aspirations no longer linger in my mind, but I would occasionally drift back into being a fighter pilot. I was still mesmerized by fighter jets. You can thank my dad for buying me the first color book illustrating the aircraft equipment of the world's air force before I even started kindergarten. If only my family still have that book.

Earlier this morning, while working from home, I suddenly heard a sonic boom. Okay, in reality, jet engines roaring by, as they weren't flying at mach speed. But it was loud, and pierced the serenity nonetheless. Automobile alarms were blaring below. I instantly recognized what was going on, as two years ago, when I first moved to Chicago, I had the same thing happen around this time of the year on a Thursday. The US Navy Blue Angels are back for the annual Chicago Air & Water Show, after the US Air Force Thunderbirds took over last year. The Angels always started their dry runs on Thursdays, and I live far enough north that they typically use our spot to turn around. So I ran upstairs to the rooftop deck with my camera.

Then I started thinking. What would life be like if my family had stayed in Taiwan? Could I become a good fighter pilot like those taking to the Chicago skies? I sat there, mesmerized by their breathtaking maneuvers. And each time I see a complex one being performed to perfection, I just get amazed. And I get reminded of trust.

You see, there is a maneuver called the line abreast loop, where a diamond {a group of four jets flying in tight formation} just forms a single line abreast, instead of some other shapes (i.e. triangle, square, etc). In 1982, when I was just a day shy of four years, the Thunderbirds were doing a practice run on this exact maneuver. This particular move requires both wingmen and the slot to fly blindly. Like most acrobatic maneuvers, all eyes were trained on the lead pilot. Trust. This is where it comes in. They are only able to fly that tightly because everybody synchronizes their moves to their leader.

Because of the nature of air shows and such maneuvers, the acrobats are typically done close to the ground. And in that time, the Thunderbirds were doing the line abreast loop, flying from near the ground, looping into the sky, and coming back down. Like a circle. But something happened to the leader's aircraft control stick actuator. The completion of the loop was delayed. Ground contact was inevitable. The lead pilot knew. But the others had no idea what was coming. All four perished that January 18th. One of the worst accidents in aeronautical performances.

Trust. Those three men had complete trust in their leader. And each time I watch the Blue Angles or Thunderbirds perform somewhere, I get reminded of that. And during each reminder, I look at my life. If I was in a serious relationship at the time, I reflect on that. Do I have that kind of trust on a loved one or anyone in general? That's huge.

As an adult now, my aspirations have changed somewhat. In the life and living department, that is one of my aspirations. I know I always fall short, but I'm always working on it. Trust so much that you can depend your life on it.

Wrigley Field History - Caught on Tape!

This from The Chicago Tribune. And a video testament of this ghastly wave {at least a partial one with 30 seconds} caught on my crappy camera on that historic day below:


Wave of the future, or just tourist season?
BY PAUL SULLIVAN

August 7, 2006

The Cubs reached another low point in their season Sunday, though the players had nothing to do with it.

With the Cubs at bat in the bottom of the fourth inning, the crowd of 40,320 began doing the wave.

It's not the first time the wave has been attempted at Wrigley Field, but longtime observers noted it was the first time a wave had made several rotations around the ballpark.

The crowd ignored the initial booing of the wave by left-field bleacherites, and it gained momentum during Juan Pierre's at-bat.

Several fans were aghast at the sight of the wave at Wrigley.

"Tourists," said Chicago-born actor Jeff Garlin, guest conductor for the seventh-inning stretch.

The wave unofficially has been banned at Wrigley since 1984, when San Diego fans performed it almost non-stop at Jack Murphy Stadium during the Padres' comeback against the Cubs in the National League Championship Series.

But two decades later, with the Cubs out of contention in the dog days of August and fans unloading their tickets to friends, relatives and scalpers, the wave has returned.

Whether it was a cameo appearance or the start of a new tradition remains to be seen.

Random crap for the day...

After having some jolly good time with Maria and Christine at the race tracks last weekend, I came upon a couple very interesting Kodak® moments.

A gay Buckingham Fountain:


The real Santa's Little Helper:

On going 70

Once in a blue moon, I like to doze off and contemplate philosophically about things like life. Usually in these times of reflection, I try not to think about subject matters such as love like some people would do. Don't get me wrong. I sometimes think about love, but not during these really deep thoughts.

Here I am, sitting on a plane en route to destination home. It is not an extraordinary event, like for most people who perhaps fly no more than four times a year. Me? Just another ritual that I religiously take usually twice a week. And this routine has been going on for over five years now.

I gently woke from a temporary cat nap to the flight attendant's smooth, yet assertive, sexy voice. She announced that we are free to move about the cabin after passing a little bit of turbulence. Not even a minute has gone by, and I saw a cute little girl, no more than five years old, walk up the aisle and into the lavatory. By herself.

It occurred to me that wow, that little girl is brave! Typically a parent or guardian would be in tow, but not this time. I don't know what prompted it all, but thoughts came into my head. I started to remember things. Things I have never resurrected. About my first memorable instance where in all of my short, little life as a tiny, skinny boy, my mom told me to go alone when I wanted to use the restroom. Was she being lazy? But that first and foremost moment was daunting. I just stood there. But she kept on coaxing me. "Be a big boy. You can go by yourself." And she just sat there. And there was a mile-long five yards separating us. I shook my head, and moaned. "No!" I pouted. I jumped. Eventually she caved in. This boy would win one more time.

I don't know how many more days after that incident, but the situation presented itself once again. I got a little frustrated. If I knew any good vocabulary, I would have exclaimed, "Damn! Not again!" But this time, my mom didn't just sit there and watch me after telling me that I'm a big boy and that I can go by myself. She proceeded to ignore me! Then something happened. I turned and went to the restroom. By myself. It was akin to walking through a giant, dark forest, typically normal when you're with your daddy a million times. But that first time by myself was just overwhelming. And abnormal.

I must've blanked out or something, because the only thing I remember about that little piece of childhood was me returning from the restroom. And when I got closer and caught sight of my parents, my heart raced and I started running back to the table. Fast! My sister was sitting there, ditzily doing her thing, totally unaware of the "ordeal" I had just gone through. My parents must've been proud. For since then, I started getting comfortable with going alone. Unless, of course, it was in a very crowded environment in public.

Back to the seat. Looking out the window, staring blankly over the wing into clouds and horizon. Thoughts floating in my head. Is that why I became assertive, and sometimes stubborn, and an extrovert as a grown-up? I smiled, while music filled my head over the constant rumble from the jet engine. Those innocent days. I yearn to relive those moments. In a blink of an eye, close to three decades have came and passed. Wow. But I wondered what it must have felt like for my parents. I'm still a kid to them. My dad will be celebrating 70 years of experiencing life soon.

Sometimes, it is just good to sit and think about my childhood. As long as I stay away from the troubled and painful parts of it. =)

Sarong Party Girls

It all started with an instant message from a friend {who shall remain anonymous} earlier this afternoon. I got a link to a funny video, but I didn't have time to watch it at work. Not especially when my client is sitting next to me.

So I totally forgot about it, after promising him I'd watch it as soon as I returned to the hotel. As I am staying at the Embassy Suites, there are other higher priority things to take care off; namely, getting as much alcohol as possible from the bar before 19:30 strikes. I do enjoy the free manager's reception every evening coming back from work.

Anyway, when I got back to my room around 19:35 with two glasses of merlot in my hand {last call}, I realized that I oughta crack open my laptop and watch this funny video that he had to share with me. So out came the ThinkPad, took a swig, plugged in the power cord, took another swig, turned on the ThinkPad, rubbed my belly and untucked my shirt, and took another swig, and logged in.

With the hotel "high" speed internet blazing at the speed of light, I could barely watch the video. It took forever, with long jittery pauses. Ugh. Seeing that my friend was still online, I ping'ed him. And the following conversation ensued:

Friend: i have always asked myself the same question too
Friend: how come in mixed race couple, the white man / asian woman number is so much higher than asian man / white woman
John: I have no idea... But that's the thing...
John: White boys like "exotic" girls. But white girls' definition of "exotic" is black. Go figure...
Friend: i think the girls are just going for bigger things
John: LOL
John: But the funny thing is... Asian girls aren't exactly known for big boobs...
Friend: here's my theory
John: Okay...
Friend: white girls wants to try something bigger
Friend: they go black
Friend: asian girls want to try something bigger
Friend: they go white
Friend: after that, they might go black to upgrade

Well hell. That got me thinking. He's got a point there, as far as observation goes. But when it comes to the social explanation, I'm not sure I buy it completely. I mean, there are some black guys who are smaller than me. And then there are few Asian guys {in porn} bigger than me.

Hmm... But in any case, here's the funny video from Wong Fu Productions that my friend sent me. Or you can just download the video yourself here. Enjoy! =) {This Philip Wang is a funny writer/director/producer!}


Oh... Regarding Sarong Party Girls... Here ya go!

Food for thought...

"I think you know more about someone in the first five minutes than you do in an entire 20 year relationship. Now, think about it. Those first gut instincts, they're always right. It's time and sentimentality that cloud the mind's ability to judge."

A funny conversation piece

About once a month, I bitch and moan hysterically. I put a fist to the sky and scream out a few names of those who don't know how to use a cell phone as a voice communication tool. You know who you are! Why? I have a modest 550 minute and 200 grace text message plan, yet my phone bills had been coming in at overages in recent months. The breakdown of my most recent monthly usage? 58 minutes (mostly retrieving voicemails or calling people to leave a message), and 360 text messages! If there is anything to apply Amber's non-registered quote-unquote trademark saying {seriously!} with candor and validity, this is it. That was just uncalled for!

Despite the extra money I have to spend each month, I do quite enjoy the random crap I get at two in the morning. Sometimes. But recently, a funny text conversation took place this afternoon. So funny {to me, at least} that I'd be more than happy to pay this month's overage bill just for the humor of it all:

Erin: Midway is a freakin zoo!

John: Did they let you bring liquids on the plane?

Erin: Nope. No liquid, gel, lotion, or makeup. Had to check my bag.

John: Damn terrorists! Thanks to them we'll always be thirsty on the plane. What's next? They find a way to put bomb in a veggie dumpling?

Erin: Next time you fly you'll have to go naked with your wallet between your butt cheeks.

Note: (1) Both Erin and I travel for work. (2) If you don't know about liquid and the recent world developments, I feel sorry for you. (3) I don't always eat dumplings on the plane. Sometimes I eat veggie flied lice, and sometimes I eat Greek yogurt from Pegasus on the Fly at Midway.

Oh no! Not the bacon!

I love food. Especially breakfast foods. Slab me some of them scrambled eggs, pancakes, and layers upon layers of bacon and sausages. Yum!

Thank goodness I don't eat a whole lot of that on a regular basis. Swedish researchers recently published their findings in the Journal of the National Cancer Institute that there is an "unequivocal" link between processed meats and stomach cancer. This came after carefully reviewing numerous studies in the past 40 years regarding such link. Their expert analysis revealed and confirmed that, yup, eating processed meats such as sausages, cold cut meats, and bacon can increase one's risk of developing stomach cancer by almost 40%. The culprit? The nitrate preservatives frequently used in such food products.

Holy smokes! That made me wonder about the three hot dogs and an Italian sausage I ate at the Cubs game just the other day! But this isn't really about the findings. Or that nitrate preservatives are actually poisonous chemicals that can harm your body. {How does that Japanese hot dog eating champ prevent himself from keeling over after each competition? You would imagine with that many hot dogs the nitrate levels in his system could get high enough to kill him.} But rather, this is about the fact that this research is not widely reported in the mainstream US news!

I mean, if you were to tell me that you're from Buckhannon, WV and that some fire fighter saved a cat named Pussy just last week, all I have to do is go to news.google.com and key in "Pussy fire fighter Buckhannon" and voila! I may have one or two entries on it from the local news. When I first heard this cancer link on my local NBC 5 late evening newscast a couple nights ago, I thought this was a big thing. But it was only a 10 second spot at the end of the newscast. And when I did a search on news.google.com for it, nothing came up from any of the major American news media. You have to read about it in news reports from United Arab Emirates, Turkey, India, Philippines, and the likes!

Hmm... I suspect the processed meat industry must have some serious lobbyists and interest groups that arm-wrestled {or threatened} the major American news media from reporting this finding. You would think that CNN Health would have reported on it or something, considering that stomach cancer is the fourth top cancer killer in the United States.

Damn the processed meat industry! Oh, it's lunch time. Let me go fix myself some sandwich with sliced, processed deli turkey meat {which will soon expire on September 2010}.

Reference: Read about the Swedish meta-analysis in the Journal of the National Cancer Institute's August 2, 2006 issue, Vol 98, No 15, pgs 1078-1087.

Add this to my dating criteria

"Do you watch wrestling on 'RAW' or 'WWE'?" That is a new question I'm going to ask of any and all potential girls I want to date. Why? To increase the odds of ME having a good dating experience, of course!

Apparently, a new study released today in the August issue of Pediatrics, led by Robert H. DuRant, found that girls are almost twice as likely to start a fight during a date if they have watched pro-wrestling. {By the way, that word 'pro-wrestling' is an oxymoron.} So, in light of this finding {apparently it is not new, as it affirms many previous findings}, I will now have another question in my girl fielding arsenal. =)

Speaking of fake-wrestling, I find this response from Gary Davis, a spokesperson for World Wrestling Entertainment, extremely comical: "In contrast to the findings of this flawed study, many of our fans attest that watching World Wrestling Entertainment programming has been a positive experience for them and their children." Wow. I would hate to be any of those "attesting" parent.

Oh, and by the way. This one is for all you adult hardcore fans of WWE. It is all mock wrestling and not real! I hate to blow that bubble for you. So please don't go all ape and wild and crazy when you watch that crap. I certainly don't do that when I watch Hot Wheels getting spun around a tiny little track, over and over. =)

God shalt smite thee thief!

Hmm... This God and smiting thing are becoming prevalent in my writing nowadays, huh? So I was at the Cubs game today with Kristen, Matt and Scott. Things were going well for the Cubs. It has been two rounds of drinks later, and I already had my share of a hot dog and an Italian sausage.

While sitting at the front row of the upper bleachers, we noticed that at the last row of the lower bleachers, some girl scooted her butt just a bit wee to the right, and knocked her extra hot dog, still perfectly wrapped, onto the ground. Matt and I watched the hot dog, desperately trying to learn of its fate. Will this girl pick it back up, or will some drunk belligerent smoosh it into a dog pancake, totally unaware of a $3.50 asset laying just there.

Then somehow, while bitching about my being hot and yearning for a cup of ice cream, I briefly muttered that I was still hungry. And that got Matt on a quest. Yes. He was going to somehow get me that long-cold hot dog laying eight feet below us on the ground for the last 10 minutes. We thought we found the perfect person-a high school dickboy selling cold water. He yelled down, "Excuse me, will you please pick up my hot dog? I dropped it down there." But this dickboy just looked down at the hot dog, and then just walked on. Hence, dickboy.

Perhaps a good two innings passed and we found this old man with a graying beard just standing there. This time around, the trick worked. And of course, we wanted to make sure that the girl who dropped it didn't hear us. I looked away, too embarrassed to see the consequences should the event of being getting caught occur. Knowing Matt, he would know exactly how to shift the blame on me. He's got that slick oil quality to him, you see. But surely enough, he pulled it off.

Yes! I have my third hot dog in hand, albeit its lack of food safety temperature as required by the fine Chicago Health Department. Oh well. When the wrapper is still on, the five second rule can be extended almost indefinitely. As I take my first bite into this cold dog, I heard Matt yell out, "Hey, that guy is eating your hot dog!" Ass wipe! =)

Of course while we celebrated this extraordinary feat, Scott had to point out: "Oh, you stole from a gimp!" Huh? Surely enough, after careful examination and lengthy observation, this girl was wearing a nylon stocking on her left leg. And stranger yet, her left leg is smaller in size than her right. And her left knee was square-ish in shape. Great! She couldn't bend down to pick up her hot dog because she has a prosthetic leg!

Damn! Scott was right. We just stole from a "gimp," or I would have preferred, a handicapped person. Oh well. I think I'm okay, because according to the man laws, the actual sin committed was by Matt. I simply was eating what was offered by him, and the burden laid not in me as to how said hot dog came about. {Besides, I find it justifiable to have him do all the sinning since he is quaranteed a spot in heaven because he's a Jew.} Now if only we can somehow do something about the "you poke it" law when it comes to women.

Nah... =)

Time awastin' away...

Yes! A productive day indeed! First I updated my MySpace profile, then laboriously created a photo slideshow. Check out the fruit of my life-awasting progress! =)

God will smite thou racist!

Hung Chow calls into work and says, "Hey, I no come work today; I sick. Got headache, stomach ache and legs hurt. I no come work."

The boss says, "You know something, Hung Chow, I really need you today. When I feel like this, I go to my wife and tell her I want sex. That makes everything better and I go to work. You try that."

Two hours later Hung Chow calls again. "I do what you say and I feel great. I be at work soon......... You got nice house."

Ha ha ha ha ha. That is funny! Okay, so I felt like opening with a joke, considering how appropriate it is along the lines of what I wanted to say last night {but got too drunk to stay awake}.

Entrapment. That is what it was yesterday. I got this text from Aarthi while working: "Hey if anyone is hungry before crapple please come over. we have lots of food." If you know me at all, you know I love food. And better yet, I love free food. Who could turn that down, right? And I had no intention whatsoever of going to crapple afterwards too.

Well, I got off the L at the Addison stop. As soon as I got onto the street, I saw this Asian chick walking on the other side. So I yelled out, "Asian people suck!" Maybe a second and a half went by, and this gal realized the slander was pointed at her. She stopped. Turned her head slowly and scanned the crowd. I could see that she was ready to throw down her bag/purse/billfold and get ready to kick some ass. She saw me. Her face changed into a big smile. Ha ha ha. It was Erin. We started laughing, and started to walk towards Sheffield.

Just as I began walking, while still having my eyes on Erin across the street, SMACK! I busted up my left hand with a few cuts here and there. Of course, the Cubs had to be playing at home. Otherwise there wouldn't be all these metal barriers lining up and down my side of the sidewalk. Damn. I almost tripped over one of them too. So yeah, I got smitten for that racist joking comment.

I woke up this morning and wondered, "Why are my knuckles on my left hand hurting like a real bitch?" Yup! Three fingers are bigger now with a shade of blue. Strange. It hurt just a little bit when it first happened, but I felt them no more. So this is where the entrapment comes. I guess Aarthi never made it home. She was still at Casey Moran's! Damn. This boy is hungry! But what do people do when they go to bars, especially after the Cubs had just finished playing and seeing this girl drunk off of her ass get dragged out by her friends as I walked into the bar? Drink!

Four glasses of Blue Moon and ogling at Abbey and Megan in a matter of an hour later, we started to migrate. I guess it was time for crapple. But this boy's gotta eat!. Thank Satan that a McDonald's was nearby! We all went in. Shit. The line was long. I looked out the window. Hey, no cars. So I went to the drive through! But nobody will help me. So I started jumping up and down on the pavement, thinking that there must be a weight scale that alerts the employees of a car's presence. Thank goodness a car pulled up behind me. So I ordered. A six-piece McNuggets and a Double Cheeseburger. I went up to the window, and the guy stared at me, and asked, "Where's your car?" Ha ha ha! But I got my food.

After eating said processed crap, I went up to the counter and got another round of the same thing! Somehow I just can't be satiated with things passed off as food by McDonald's, especially after drinking plenty earlier. Now come to think about it, along with the two Miller Lite's I had at crapple, last night's little eating and drinking (excluding breakfast and lunch) resulted in a total consumption of 2296 calories! Oh. My. Lord.

Yeah. Entrapment. The plan was to have free food and head home. But somehow? Yeah. Not only do I have a bruised hand now, but I'm being smitten with weight gain! Ha ha ha!

Cards Suck!

To my friends who live or are from St. Louis, sorry...

Okay, this blog is probably a few days late, but who cares. I have been really busy. So busy that yesterday I thought it was Monday. And I had to be corrected twice.

Anyway, I'm not an avid sports fan like someone, say Amber, but I enjoy sports in general and will support my home team, or some team dear to me. But I hate any team from St. Louis. I know exactly why, but it's not something I should share. =) Evil me...

So you can only imagine the thrill and excitement I had when I found out that the Cubs have swept the Cards here in Chicago. (Thu 7/27: 5-4 /~/ Fri 7/28: 6-5 /~/ Sat 7/29: 4-2 /~/ Sun 7/30: 6-3) {I love this headline from The Telegraph (Alton, IL): Cardinals' colossal collapse in Chicago defies logic.} After visiting the Taste of Lincoln Avenue, I walked back to the Addison station with Amy and Erin. When I got on the platform, after just missing my train by a minute or so, I saw this sight that made me chuckle.

You know sweeping the Cards calls for a celebration, a big one nonetheless, and it kicks ass to know that someone did just that! And it's even funnier to see that his buddies played a cruel prank on him, or that they themselves had over-celebrated as well. In either case, the post-celebration sight with a bag of long-cold burrito lying next to him was just priceless: