desperately seeking sanity

i'm going to go all over the place in this one, but not in a gross way like i did early last week at my sister's house.

the saga begins with some people requesting that i spend 6 straight hours with them at work and then afterwards, i couldn't even spell my own names - like, not one of the five. at one point during the sober numbness, i thought that i might be on board with someone calling me out into the hallway to blow my head off. and i know you won't find any part of this to be surprising, but there were also several instances where i had in-depth daydreams involving vodka, spiced rum, margaritas, and then godiva's cappuccino liqueur - because frankly, i can't figure out what to do with it. if you've uncovered a use for that anomaly, please let me know. i just have one bit of advice there and it's that you stick to every other flavor of godiva liqueur. the cappuccino variety both tastes and smells like, well, ass - and i should know given my history with ass.

but the reason i was telling you about the 6 hour meeting to begin with was because i also made some really important declarations while i was there. firstly, i decided to give mr. clean magic erasers a second go 'round. i employed those jokers once and it was just not what i hoped it would be. HOWEVER, tonight's results were astounding and i'm confident that it's not just because i was a little drunk. those things are unreal. my guest bathroom had these "marks" on the wall from when big don was over on xmas. she was in that small room with 3 other people and i can only guess that they got *a little* carried away in there. there's no other logical explanation. i took that magical eraser into that battle zone tonight and together we worked miracles. those marks disappeared instantly and now it looks as though nothing ever happened on that poor wall. ah the wondrous technology of the new millennium. it's remarkable.

the other things that i can list as secondly are that i decided the professions of my unborn, un-conceived, non-existent children this afternoon as well. they will either be pharmacists or meteorologists when they grow up into their bitter drunken adult suits one day. i have recently been pondering the merits of these two careers and i think they're just what my family of the future ordered. we'd like to be somehow super-sized so meteorologists and pharmacists it is. we all know they will appreciate my running their lives until they're 30 (when they turn 40 and find that they like their lives). mama-dan knows best.

thirdly, meatball sandwiches are good. why i don't eat them every minute of every day excapes me. i know you know.

you can't see me now, but i'm wishing you were dead

it's time i shared something really personal with you. i know that you crave my private morsels so much that you require them in order to effectively live your life. having said that, i apologize for just making you consider my private morsels because that's almost inappropriate for this particular pg-13 rated blog entry. and also, for taking an eternity to disclose such information. here is a list of things you can hear when you sit at my desk:

• someone gross clipping their nails at work
• corporate lady hacking lung juice up onto me
• older contractor fellow thinking/smelling old
• an intern being far too young for me
• the riddler's cell phone. from another floor
• middle-aged vendor man with unusually loud, projected voice in a heated discussion regarding purdue football
• car alarms; gas-o-line-is-my-food. raid-io knobs!
• smokie-joes breathing freshly smoked cigarette onto me. mmmmm. yummy.
• nagging, aggressive, know-it-all monotoner cutting into my face like razor sharp icicles
• frantic typists
• angry foreign language phone yeller man, and woman
• a welcomed secret lovers ringtone from a few desks over
• someone with hughjungous kloppers approaching. i mean, you can hear this one walking in their giant shoes before they even know they're comin
• incessant clogged sinus fixer
• incessant coffee slurper
• incessant statement ending nervous laugher
• chronic germie with significant cough
• nerds
• the last bits of my soul slowly and painfully escaping, like when you drop live lobsters into boiling water and they begin to scream a deathly, high-pitched, mercy cry

ok. you can't actually hear that last part. you can only feel it and that's precisely why i took the day off. and it would "sound" like this if you could hear it:

vodka has never done me wrong

but i sure have been doing him wrong.

i was at work today after having been Pah-TOe for so long and couldn't manage to get my head back into the ever-so-interesting game. i was walking down the long hall with my secret lover doing what we do best; long, slow, coffee walks. oh, and publicly discussing alcohol. i mentioned that i had seriously considered introducing a semi-concealed flask to my workspace in 2007 and he mentioned that he thought i might seriously have a problem. and then we both shook our heads and agreed that it was his wife who actually had the problem because most people in the area tend to take their cues from her. so anyway, i described my classic dirty recipe and right away he reacted to it. i almost hate to admit this, but it contained far too much vermouth - for anyone's taste. i never quite understood the point of vermouth... but... wait for it.

in the summer months, i enjoy the vodka straight, over ice. it's light and it's refreshing. but seeing as it's winter, i flopped back over to the classic dirty. you know, to keep me warm. my recipe has traditionally been 2 parts vodka, 1 part vermouth, splash of olive brine, shake shake shake. now due to chop's reaction from the morning coffee run and my lack of interest in corporate _____, i spent *a little* time during the day researching classic martini recipes with our old friend. turns out, you only really want a splash of vermouth. say what? yes, willis. a splash. so steph's complaint about my strong martinis a couple weeks back was, well, weak. AND valid. i'll give you that one. my drinks usually straddle the strong side of the line because i kind of do have a problem and i don't fully comprehend when you prefer somethings in your tall, cool russians (thx, OKS). give me time. i'll learn.

a splash of vermouth. good. to. know. i raced home at the stroke of 4:45 because this corporate lady was operating under the assumption that i would be assisting her with corporate _____ around 5pm. uh yeah. no, mrs. lady. i won't. i then point a'd it for white-lightning. he greeted me with the leather smell that only he can do and we were on our way. it was glorius. after 50 minutes of heated seats, i was finally in my kitchen shaking up a masterpiece. you guessed right if you guessed splash of vermouth. it was THE MOST mouth-watering classic dirty i've ever had in my sad, meaningless existence.

i will furnish you with the new recipe if you're in the mood for something stiff and dirty. get your damn minds out of the gutter.

no wait. keep doing it. my teeth hurt.

here's to the new thing, getting rid of the old thing, and then something with a wine bar

'sup you guys. hope new year's eve 2007 was all you ever wanted in a new year's eve. mine was just what the doctor ordered; an extended dinner with the girls at one of the city's most perfect litte sinatra/buble/dino/sammy/martini clubs and then a champagne toast at the doc's place where steph made us put coins in our shoes and sharda made us stand and sit 12x for the new year, at precisely the new year. it was fun because it was leisurely, our waiter was a bitch, and i got to drink straight, stiff, dirty vodka.

below you'll find two pictures that i need for you to review. the first is basically just a shot of me at a table with the girls - who requested that i not display their faces on the internet even though you've probably seen at least one of these faces if you're a dude and you like porn (so obviously i covered their heads with dark boxes) - and in it, i appear to have a rack - because 2007 is definitely going to be my year. you see it right? the second is the tiny little flower arrangement at the restaurant. it was so tiny.

so... happy new year out there. like i said, this is the year for my 'new thing', getting rid of the 'old thing', and then for opening a wine bar. thanks for finally getting here, 2007. i think we all desperately needed you.














(seriously. there's no trick photography here. i was literally standing beside this thing.)

finally

finally. a movie has exposed me to the magic of jude law. finally. i could never understand what all the jude law fuss was about until a few hours ago. before today he was this limey, sort of greasy actor that was sort of ok at his art. but now, i mean, he's just so steamy in this. i can't explain it. you'll see. mind boggling. if you're not on jude law's bandwagon, you might be after you see this movie. just trust me.

big don and i saw 'the holiday' and i urge you to do the same while it's still in theatres. it was the happiest little film i've seen in a very long time and i should not have been so surprised because it is yet another of nancy meyers works of art. it's about two successful women who are well-to-do otherwise, but unlucky in their most recent loves. it's simply this; they swap houses for the xmas holiday and then warmth and goodness continuously unfold before your eyes. it's profoundly happy and i cried many a tear of joy. seriously. go see it.

nancy meyers talent lies in her ability to craft a film in such a way that it instantly invites you in and wraps you up in a giant blanket of fluffy, warm, ultra soft, pink cashmere. when the credits start to roll, you just want to continue to sit in the theatre until the reel is completely sure that the movie is over. and even then, you don't want to leave your seat because you just know that the real world is outside waiting to pick you up in its old, cold, rusty, brown station wagon.

women, you must go see this picture because you are women and i said so. it should be the law for us to have to watch this movie like at least once a month. men, most of you must go see this picture because you probably need to learn a few things from the boys in the movie, especially if you are an a-hole. maybe you'll stop being so much of an a-hole after you see this show. i don't know. give it a whirl.

i can't say enough about this movie, readers. heart-warming i tell you. truly heart-warming!!

and if i don't talk to you before the big night, have a happy new year! let's get the h out of 2006 already.

1985

due to this being a timely little vacation from work week, i've been catching up on my 80s films. out of sheer attention for odd details, i started noticing a pattern. i found that most of our cinematic gold from the 80s sprung from none other than 1985. since it was early in the day and my liver was on a timeout, i compiled a list and then cross-checked with imdb. you can thank 1985 for the nuggets of pure entertainment below. you can thank me for taking time out of my busy life to display them in a list. obviously it's incomplete, but it's an excellent sampling that helps to prove my case for just how hard 1985 rocked your asses.

girls just want to have fun
real genius
the sure thing
teen wolf
secret admirer
just one of the guys
breakfast club
st elmo's fire
better off dead
gotcha!
spies like us
the goonies
weird science
volunteers
brewsters millions
back to the future
poison ivy (tv gold)
national lampoon's european vacation
transylvania 6-5000
fraternity vacation
fletch
the man with one red shoe
once bitten
desperately seeking susan
a host of afterschool specials regarding "serious" teen issues


honorable mentions from the 1985 sandwich:

1984 - sixteen candles, bachelor party, revenge of the nerds, splash, ghostbusters, muppets take manhattan, cloak and dagger, johnny dangerously, cannonball run II, romancing the stone

1986 - lucas, ferris bueller's day off, short circuit, back to school, howard the duck, top gun, one crazy summer, the money pit, pretty in pink


i know. you're welcome. 1984-1986 was truly a time for cinematic genius and without me, you wouldn't have all this precious information at your fingertips.

he is not your friend or 'secret lovers, that's what we are'

you think he is your friend, but he is not. it's hard to initially decipher that the enemy is upon you so you invite him in because he reminds you of goodness and things that are wholesome. you lock into a loving embrace with him. his presence puts you at the utmost level of comfort. you share a few laughs. you reminisce over the good times. you have joy, you have fun, you have seasons in the sun. but then, the clock strikes 12... and you realize that you have made a terrifying mistake. your first instinct is to run as fast and as far as your little legs will take you. your head is a mess. your mind is a shambles. he did this to you. he played you for a fool. and you. know. why. he is not your friend. in fact, he is your nemesis and he wants to see that you fail in every last of the evening's endeavors.

he made you think you were signing on for a few margaritas and maybe a dance or two on the bar. you laugh. you sing. you do in fact, dance a medley on said bar. and it was all so innocent...until that fateful turning point where he convinces you to abandon your chaperone - your faithful attendant who cleverly disguised himself as margarita mix for so long and only for your safety and well-being. therein lies your weakness, your first fateful mistake; you listened to him. you must never listen to him. you and tequila require supervision at all times. you're an adult and we think we can trust you. but in your moment of weakness, you forgot everything we professed. it's like you contracted temporary amnesia and overlooked the fact that he'll take full advantage and place you in compromising situations - repeatedly - over the course of a night.

at least you still have some wits about you because your thoughts were to run at the onslaught. so yes, your first job is indeed to run. you both literally and figuratively dash to the nearest and most appropriate receptacle. you renew your friendship with your "receptacle" of choice for what seems like hours when in reality, it's probably hours. (right, sharda?) finally you finish your renewal session and crawl to, well, anywhere else. fully clothed, you awaken the next morning to find that you feel ok. a little shaky, but ok. luckily your "friend" does not stick around. ah, but he will return. mark these words. happy hour will roll back around and you will invite him in as though nothing ever happened. yet again.

ok so, we've established something important here today. if you're feeling vulnerable and/or weak, you must avoid your mexican man at all costs. and then, stay away from the tequila.