It just needs to be mentioned.

Today is supposedly the first day of spring.

And it is snowing in Chicago.

Meh.

I am posting early today, as I have the day off from work, and because I need to run errands tomorrow.

My current plan for this spring is to get my apartment in order, to allow my cousin 'Backer to move in with me if his current housing situation deteriorates.

Last Sunday I actually brought him over briefly. He was astounded, and unpleasantly so. I specifically told him not to look at the bathroom, and he was smart enough to follow my advice.

However, I have let him know that if his current housing situation deteriorates, he has the possibility of moving into the bedroom, after I have divested it of all my crap. He says he'll keep it in mind. If he needs to take me up on it, we'll work out details then.

Cleaning progress is slow, but still better than I have done for the past four years.

I have been amazed at the amount of back issues of the Chicago Reader I have had to chuck. I found issues dating back to 2003. These papers have all been ferried to the Chicago-Tribune-maintained newsprint recycling bin at my local Red Line station - I can only assume that the employees picking these up have been wondering when the flow of crap will end.

I have been making trips with newspapers crammed into three tote bags and two of the three sections of my backpack. I have been missing morning trains whilst I dump the papers.

In addition, I have been winnowing the back issues of various magazines - I've been on a roll going through four years of Entertainment Weekly and scattered copies of Premiere and Movieline. The New Yorker and Discover and Harper's and Atlantic will take a little more time, but I'll get through them.

Also, this past Tuesday night, I took a vaccuum cleaner to the pile of crap in and on the poster display., so that section of the room is less filth-ridden than before, although still not aesthetically-pleasing.

Other than this project, I've done little. Since the last post, the only quasi-social thing I've done was an all-night venture at the Admiral Theater on 4-5 March. I'll post some notes, but nothing happened that would lend itself to narrative flow.

However, I was openly smiling for two days afterward.

Yes, I am a bad man.

Okay, the next post will be in SEVEN weeks, not three, since I'm puting even less effort into scribbling things than usual. So you needn't bother checking this site again until 10 May. During that time, we'll see how these living arrangement changes happen, and I'll visit my mom for a weekend, and I'll be at the wedding of MetroCake and ITArtist, and quite possibly my cousin will have walloped me upside the head with a two-by-four.

Until then, take care of yourselves as best as you can.

Eyeeesh! Make it stop!

Thanks to the information source classified as "British lad mags", I know now that someone has even built a site dedicated to pictures of women sneezing.

And no, the site was NOT built by Metrocake or by me.

Previously-Used Bench Slogans

Tugging fretfully at your colon strings.

Exacerbating the unnecessary.

Producing waste gases in a convenient web format.

Better than broken kneecaps, severed tendons, or Christmas albums.

Ill-tempered, regretful, lazy, shy - yet inexplicably single.

100% of your recommended daily allowance of bile and shame.

A blistering whirlwind of inactivity.

Providing public amusement through personal abasement.

Like a vicious cyberweasel on poppers.

An unpalatable blend of bizarre herbs and spices.

Animating the corpses of arguments and relationships since 2001.

Gleefully blowtorching other people's igloos of comfort.

Unlikely to cause fun swelling.

Just another weasel in the wrong henhouse.

If he’s not complaining, check his pulse.

If music be the food of love... I seem to be e. coli.

Twisted charred valentines of regret, in bulk packaging.

Not forward; not backward; just awkward.

Yes, I am a bad man. (Coda)

I stumble in my apartment, shuck out of my clothes, consider calling the Ops Room to taunt Jedi RobMo with the fact that I am just getting home, and sanely decide to go to sleep.

Yes, I am a bad man. (Ending.)

This is the moment I stagger out of the Admiral Theater, blinking in the sunlight, and head to the McDonald's two blocks east, to get two Egg McMuffins. If I didn't take the day off, I'd have to be on train to work shortly.

Gratitude to "Miss Kitty", "Dani", "Kylie", the waitstaff, and the bouncers. And much gratitude to "Athena" for being a great talker, a great listener, and extremely cuddly.

---

Athena: (pointing out the dancer on stage) "She's gorgeous."
UIM: "I'm not quite so dumb that I'm going to compliment some other woman to the woman with whom I'm sitting."
Athena: "I won't be offended."
UIM: "All of the dancers here look good. Of course, most of your colleagues, I feel like I should tip them in Subway sandwich coupons."
Athena: (Loud burst of genuine-seeming surprised laughter)

Yes, I am a bad man. (Beginning)

After hurriedly washing laundry, hitting up the bank, showering, shaving, and getting out the door onto transit, this is the moment when I walk into the Admiral Theater, hoping that the featured dancer, Vivid Video star Briana Banks, has not canceled.

A minute later, as a bouncer shows me to my seat, I glance at the half-dozen guys and twenty-five regular dancers, and immediately intuit that Briana Banks has canceled her scheduled appearance.

Nonetheless, I stay.

If it's too loud...

(Four or five new posts for the past three weeks, and a couple of back-dated posts from July 1995. )

---

I feel about as twice as old as I look this morning. And I look about ten years older than my age. Bleaugh.

I wish I could claim that any interesting debauchery was the cause.

I went to an all-ages concert last night, The Donnas and the Hives, and afterward, had some dinner with friends, and got in around 1 am.

At no point did I engage in any sort of behavior that would raise anyone's eyebrows. (No one offered.)

But with the ringing in my ears, the aching in my muscles, and the slowness of my brain this morning, I feel like I'm three days short of checking into the Retirement Home for Geeks Who Are Amazed to Have Survived This Long.

Right, enough complaining - other folks have real crap they are coping with.

Of course, if you take away my complaining, my conversational topics dwindle to nothing.

I spent every night of the past three weeks saying, "I know I should write posts for the blog, but it's too much like work."

So, yes, I am still reconsidering how worthwhile this endeavor is. Quite possibly, by the end of the year, I will have folded this carnival's tents again. The readership of this blog could be easily kept informed with a five-minute phone call every month - "Nope, I'm still doing nothing outside of work, and unhappy at work. Yes, the apartment is still a disaster area. No, I haven't made any effort to try to find a woman. Yes, my cholesterol number is still higher than my weight in pounds."

And that would be a fine plan, if I didn't paralyze myself from calling people. "They're probably having dinner. They're probably out. They probably have caller ID, and may fake their own deaths to avoid my call."

As DBAChief keeps saying, "It's whatever, man."

Of course, she also constantly tells me to man up and do something and quit being a whiny bitch. And half her conversation is usually "Of course you don't get what I'm saying. You're a man. You just don't get it."

I'm not saying she's wrong, of course.

I'll get around to it.

Look, the next post should be on 22 March. I may have made a couple of life-altering (but not-innately-serious) decisions by then. (Nothing involving a change of job or marital status, obviously.) I might have actually written some of the Three Weeks of Lists bullet-point essays that I have been meaning to scribble for almost two months now.

Or, the next post could just be a rambling mockery of rational thought, like this one.

Take care of yourself. We'll talk soon.

No, I shouldn't own this.

It would only be inappropriately used at work.

But... I WAAAANNNNA!

NY Metro Area Nostalgia

Crazy Eddie commericals.

YouTube is dangerous. Not only does it lead seemingly normal people to upload commercials videotaped over twenty years ago, even for horrible TV movies, but it leads people like me to watch them.

Hey, kids, remember when the broadcast networks would show theatrical movies on Saturday nights?

What do you mean, 'What's 'broadcast'?"

Get off my lawn, you snot-nosed punks.

It can't be nostalgia. I'm laughing too hard.

I'm trying to not laugh.

I can't even remember all the names that club had before the shopping center got razed to make another shopping center. I know that when it was Hammerhead's, Blue Oyster Cult and Twisted Sister would have gigs there. I know that it was Key Largo for a time. And I don't think I was even paying attention to it when it was the Bel Air Cafe.

I have been rendered speechless, because they have rendered "Thunderstruck"

Lullabye versions of AC/DC.

http://www.amazon.com/Rockabye-Baby-Lullaby-Renditions-AC/dp/B0011V7OO2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=music&qid=1204395710&sr=1-1

http://www.jr.com/JRProductPage.process?Product_Id=4219077&JRSource=googlebase.datafeed.1015944_CD

http://www.bestprices.com/cgi-bin/vlink/027297963122?source=GBase

Words fail me.

I was eventually going to listen some of the samples. I didn't even look at the songs reperesented, yet. I wanted to finish my rambling posts first.

I shot this off to certain folks in an e-mail first. I got a response from Taoiseach soon enough: "These are unrecognizable. They might as well claim they are lullaby versions of a Winston Churchill speech."

Actually, that has to wait for the lullabye version of Iron Maiden, doesn't it?.

Taking the SCA aesthetic a bit too far.

Pitbull Armory

You know, I understand that regular human SCA people aren't a high-volume business, so you have to branch out.

However, this seems like a wrong direction.

And this just tempts me to make jokes about the Redwall books.

A rare moment of technophilia

For a few moments, I am so tempted.... I could watch Hudson Hawk every morning on the train...

MyVu

The iWear line by Vuzix

A sentiment I appreciate

Howlin' Pelle Almqvist: "I will take your English language, and do with it as I please."

Save me from another good time.

As I mentioned back on 9 Feb, I had been thinking about going to a rock concert.

You all know me. Large groups of strangers irritate me.

But the Riviera Theater (roughly a mile and a half from my apartment) had a show tonight - main act was The Hives, whom I find entertaining enough on cd. (Whoever writes the lyrics has an odd understanding of English language concepts - but nothing intrinsically weirder than Phil Lynott lyrics.) And the opening act was The Donnas. The Donnas cds got me through a lot of crappy times this decade. (Sems like every decade, there's one band that gets me through - 80's was Jimmy Buffett, 90's was Aerosmith, 00's is the Donnas.) And I like the current album, Bitchin', very much. (Yes, it's 80's hair metal rock in a blender, and you can play "Spot the reference" with the guitar riffs and vocal tics - but I believe it is done with honest affection.)

After I bought the tickets, I made sure to have Bitchin' and the latest Hives release, The Black and White Album, playing most days at work. (Headphones have been helping me stay calm and focused at work the past couple of months.) If I'm going to a concert, I want to be sure of most of the lyrics.

Also, the Donnas have recently set up a channel on YouTube, thedonnastv, so a couple of nights after work, I have come to Screenz and watched music videos on YouTube - both the items they posted, and items posted by fans. Not just watching the Donnas' videos, either - I have found guilty pleasure in playing some videos which I have not seen since puberty - Midler/Jagger's "Beast of Burden", Aerosmith's "Chip Away the Stone", and, lord help us, the Fred Schneider solo single "Monster".

So, last time I posted, I checked Ticketmaster, and bought a few general admission tickets. Because I figured that going alone to a rock concert required a little more bravery than I could muster.

I roped a bunch of folks into accepting tickets - DBAChief and LowRider, FierceLocalQueen, Flee and his beloved.

Of course, the plan did not work out quite like I had hoped. I hadn't known that General Admission meant "Pay to stand in line for an hour so that you can get in and stand for four hours." I had thought that cheap and uncomfortable seating would be available.

So, yeah, some of my enthusiasm dampened. I accept that I am just not the target audience for rock concerts, and assign blame to no one.

Also, since various people had various work times and various things to do after work, I was actually standing in line alone at 5:11 PM, listening to the underage girls complain bitterly about the cold. This amused me, because I am evil.

"I love how cute our outfits are."
(Huge gust of wind.)
"Arrrrgh!!!"
(UIM smiles evilly to himself, happy for wearing numerous layers of clothing.)

DBAChief was feeling poorly after work, and LowRider came back uptown after getting her home, but when he called me that he was in the theater, the phone transmission was cracking up, so I couldn't tell him where I was. I didn't get to talk to him until after the show (I called while waiting in the coat check morass) and he claimed to have a good time - he saw the 40 minutes that the Donnas were on, and about seven or eight of the Hives songs, before he decided to leave and beat the traffic.

FierceLocalQueen found me about midway through the Donnas' set, and was stuck down on the first tier throughout. Flee and his beloved cuaght up with us during the intermission.

Another mistake of mine was checking my puffy outer coat. Mind you, it seemed like a great idea at 6:10 PM, when I was thinking, "I don't want to have to hold this for the next four or five hours." After the concert at 10:15 PM, smashed in a crowd of twits all trying to occupy the front of the line, twisting down to the basement, the coat check seemed like another in the long line of bad choices I have made. The truly annoying part is that after 45 minutes of waiting, I finally hand the ticket to the clerk. He takes three steps over, grabs my coat, takes three steps back, and hands it to me. (Eloquent UIM eyeball rolling.)

I met up with FierceLocalQueen, Flee, and Flee's beloved (a cute pale-skinned redhead for whom I have no nickname) at the sushi restaurant down the block. I hadn't been there before, so I was pleased at how calm and relaxed and not-cramped it was. They were in a big corner booth. I broke into a huge dreamy grin as soon as I was able to sit down.

The concert itself was fine. Since both bands had their equipment on the stage, and the stage isn't huge to start with (I think the term is 'intimate venue'), the Donnas were pretty restricted in their movements. The vocalist, Brett Anderson, certainly did what she could to pump the crowd up. But (speaking from my own very limited experience) there's only so much stage business a vocalist can do, anyway. Pout and/or strut - even if people compare you unfavorably to Mick Jagger. Various arm-waving gestures - pumping the fist in the air, guitar-fretting motions with the left hand, full-on air guitar, motioning to the crowd for more noise, goofing around with the microphone stand - the repertoire is there, but it runs out. Leaning against the guitarist or bassist. Headbanging. Dramatically crouching. After fifteen minutes, it's tough for any vocalist to not feel like a Robert Plant imitator.

Okay, after the first verse of "Like an Animal," Brett turns to the guitarist, Alison, and makes a mock panther-snarl, with her hands up like claws. I chuckled.

The Hives, going on after the Donnas' gear was cleared, had a lot more room to pace around. And the vocalist was able to now climb on the speaker stacks flanking the stage.

Also, both Brett Anderson and the Hives' vocalist, Howlin' Pelle Almqvist, said "Chicago" a lot. I think part of it that "Chicago" is a moderately fun word to say. (It's not "bulbous bouffant", but it's still somewhat fun.) And part of it is undoubtedly because they do need to remind themselves where they are, as well as incite some hometown feeling in the crowd.

Brett Anderson: "We were in Minneapolis last night. I'm not sure how you feel about those guys up there. They were pretty good at singing along. They weren't as loud as you guys, but at singing, they were spot on..."

Howlin' Pelle Almqvist - "The Hives love Chicago, because it reminds us of home." (Pause) "Cold. Wet. And miserable."

Of course, I find the name "Howlin' Pelle Almqvist" pretty entertaining to say, myself.

In the end, I was happy enough, up against the railing on the second tier, screaming along at parts of the songs, clapping as loud as I could sometimes, and just watching the Donnas play. There's entertainment enough watching competent musicians lose themselves in the music. And watching the vocalist be goofy.

6 Bad Ideas I Did Not Carry Out for the Donnas Concert

Now, keep in mind, I'm not really the groupie type, being socially incompetent and all, but it's not like the idea of hitting on Maya Ford from the audience at the edge of the stage while she played bass guitar seemed innately wrong. (The age difference is only nine years.)

So, yes, all of the following occurred to me, and fortunately, my apathy and my procrastination have kept my diginity at its current low level (measurable in millimeters), instead of eroding it even further.

Ranked in order from lamest to only lame.

1) Wearing a t-shirt reading, "But there's no cute boys in Decatur...."
Yes, quoting a lyric from the song "40 Boys in 40 Nights" from the Turn 21 album. But it's a bit obscure, and the letters would have to be a small size. I'm not sure how visible it would be from five or more feet away.

2) Wearing a t-shirt reading, "Maya. Call Me:" followed by my phone number.
Yeah. Direct and abysmal.

3) A poster with the band name in different fonts used by other bands.
It's not totally out there. The current band logo is using the Iron Maiden font. And I used to be able to do the spiky Judas Priest lettering in the margins of my notebooks. But it's "meh."

4) Wearing a t-shirt reading, "Save me from another good time."
Quoting "Save Me" from the current album. Less lame, but still too indirect.

5) Throwing a pair of boxer shorts on the stage.
I have a few extra pairs, and I think the set with a frowning Snoopy face and the sentence "I feel like I've got to bite some one on the leg." is charmingly aggro.
For the second to last song, the vocalist, Brett Anderson, joked that guys taking off their clothes was just appropriate at thi moment, and launched into "Take It Off" from Spend the Night. That would have been a good moment to throw the boxers on stage.

6) Wearing a t-shirt reading, "Maya Ford kicks ass!"
When shameless ass-kissing is the best possible plan, it's time to ditch the entire idea.

---
During another talking bit of the concert:

Brett: "It's great that every time I'm looking at the audience, I'm seeing more familiar Chicago faces."
Maya: (pointing) "I think the cheesecake guy is over there."
Brett: "T-shirt?"
Maya: "No, the guy who gave us the mini-cheesecakes."
Brett: "Oh yeah. If you want to make us smile, mini-cheesecakes are a good way to do it. T-shirts aren't bad either."

However, I think the image of a forty-year-old UIM with a cooler chest full of individual Eli's servings and a hopeful grin on his face is still more pathetic than I'm willing to be. (And probably more organized - let's be honest.)

A brief moment of gratitude

Thanks to FierceLocalQueen and Flee for the lunchtime companionship.

Yes, I am an evil-hearted loser.

PermitQueen is getting married in late May, and she sent an e-mail around in mid-January to get some rough head-count idea of who was bringing someone. (Invitation should be sent soon.)

I, of course, indicated I would be flying solo.

She wrote back, expressing enthusiam for my attendance.

And then wrote back again, because of a nibbling little worry at the back of her mind.

"In the interest of full dicslosure, I have to warn you that a certain former colleague of ours will also be attending."

I wrote back something flippant, followed by a serious statement that I was not going to cause trouble.

And after I sent the e-mail, I double-taked.

I checked the company e-mail address book - yup, NawlinsBelle is no longer on there.

This means that after PermitQueen's wedding, I will never likely have to see the short marathoner again. No chance of accidentally encountering her in the office and keeping my grimacing and eye-rolling internal while my stomach flip-flops and a chorus of small demons mock me for being so unattractive to women.

Here's the evil part - I walked around the rest of the day with a bop in my step, and at various times humming or whistling or outright singing, "Walking on Sunshine". (It's a PvP reference.)

I recognize how pathetic I am, by how much this cheered me up for about six hours.

Answer: An inert lump of rock whines considerably less

Few blizzards, no bronchitis. Well enough.

Yes, technically this is a new post announcement. However, this and the two posts below it will be the only posts this session.

I have done little, written nothing, and can produce no evidence that my presence confers any benefit on any living thing.

(Yes, I am making certain presidential references in my mind, but let's not start the first ever Bench flamewar.)

Okay, I've done a couple of things:
- an insanely uncharacteristic social activity on the 2nd of Feb - going to LowRider's house to watch the Super Bowl. I of course gave not a rodent gluteus who won the damn thing. But it was something to do, LowRider and DBAChief had actually expressed interest in my company, and there was food. My couin 'Backer went with me, and I met briefly a bunch of LowRider's friends and cousins. I was entertained enough.

- dinner with TriAthlete at Moody's on the 5th of Feb. He called, we harassed each other, he said we had to go hang out at some point, I said my schedule was incredibly free at that moment, and it happened. We were going to hang out longer, and drive around, but the sleet-ice-rain combo that started up made that a craptastically bad idea.

Other than these small bursts of quasi-gregarious action, most of my time outside of work has been sitting around feeling old.

(Yes, I know the dirty looks I should be getting from Purge and EvilG, at the least.)

In the past month and a half, several things have underscored how little I have done by this point.

A) On the cover of the Chicago Reader a few weeks back, the cover story was about and independent progressive journalist who had written a well-acclaimed book about republicans a few years back. Said journalist has written another book being acclaimed by many people, across th3 political spectrum.
Said journalist, of course, lived just down the hall from me during our freshman year of college. That would 1988-89, just to underscore the point. I actually knew him a little at the time.
Let me be absolutely clear - I am not jealous. He has spent time in the past two decades traveling, writing, and broadening his perspective. I have spent that same time moving very little, scribbling nonsense in fitful bursts, and broadening my butt. Since he has put forth actual effort, I feel no jealousy.

B) Pondering this of course led to the realization that this year marks 20 years since high school graduation. It has occurred to me that this was happening, but it just hit me hard this month. Of course, I wouldn't actually go to a reunion - I am vaguely curious if some of the young women whom I lusted after (that would be most of them) are still lust-worthy. Outside of a couple of quick Google searches (apparently, Ellar is still a runner and a swimmer), I have mostly been putting this out of my mind.
I talked with Rack about it a little. He thought my idea of sending my younger brother Stringer to a reunion as me, with the excuse that I had been in a car accident, lost my memory, and had reconstructive facial surgery, was a lame idea. I thought that with enough prep time and suitable cash bribes to NightSkye and Stringer, we could put one over. However, Rack wisely recognizes that all my plans requiring more than a day's worth of concentration on my part are abandoned through inertia, so he's simply waiting me out.

C) While scrounging around for some old e-mails, I found the doc file for some old snail mail I wrote in 93 and 94 to various folks. And I mentioned occurrences in those letters that have dropped out of my mind in the years since. Like helping TMBG break back into his own house when he was locked out, one night while all other family members were away.

D) While visiting Mom for Christnas, she showed me a recent picture of the old Homestead taken by the across the street neighbor. The new owner had the wherewithal to add another story. of course, with all the construction, new siding was covering the house now. The only clues that this are the same house are the bay window in the front, and the same old ugly white garage door with the address in black metal cursive. It looks really nice, but it points out that a) everything changes with time and b) that was the sort of project Mom always wanted to have accomplished, but it was not going to happen on a single mother's salary in the 1980's.

E) A new one, just today - I opened an e-mail from Taoiseach, and amongst other things, he mentions that Bianca, just barely eleven, is five feet tall. I cannot imagine that the small bundle of rationality and dignity is now the same height as my mother.

Other changes, while not immediately sparking negative personal feelings, have underscored the relentless trod of time upon us all.

The Fullerton tracks are all fully open again; while the CTA's re-roofing project at my stop, running from November to December, seems to have simply re-located the leaks to less covenient locations - the front doors of the station, for example.

Stores which I like keep closing, although they are usually the ones to which I do not often go. The Rice Box restuarant, which had cheap good sushi platters and teriyaki platters shuttered this fall, although the location has now been filled up with a trendier-looking independent Asian food provider. And the Selected Works bookstore closed at some point this summer, but I haven't been inside it since CooGWuh still lived out here, so I stifled whatever pangs I felt at no longer having the choice of a cool rambling basement bookstore in the Wrigleyville area.

Yeah, it's whatever. The whinging is too much for me to endure, myself, so I will close this out.

I do actually have plans for the next posts, on 1 March, involving not only sustained writing and thought on my part over the next twenty-one days, but just possibly reporting on a low-key social evening out being entertained by a rock group. (I still have to see if the tickets are available.) This being such a radical departure from my normal behavior, I figure I should warn you half-dozen loyal readers, as the unexpected shock may kill some of you.

In the meantime, be safe, be happy, and be kind. (Batting 0 for 3 on that, myself, of course.)

Weird Crap I Learn About Through British Lad Mags

CrabFu SteamWorks - Steampunk Radio-Control toys.

SpookyPop - The Pac Gentleman steampunk Arcade game gets me grinning every time. What Would Agatha Heterodyne Play?

The SkipCar - a vehicle made out of a skip. (What we call in the States, a dumpster.)

Last Exit to Nowhere - tourist t-shirts for places appearing in movies.

Rubie's Masquerade UK - the pet costume section. I am seriously unsure which costume disturbs me the most - the Princess-Leia-as-Jabba's-prisoner and the generic harem girl costumes are tied for first, with the Wonder woman costume and the Robin costume tying for third. Although, in fairness, the idea of sending out a dog as Ace, the Bat-Hound amuses me slightly.

Tube Lamp at Manhattan Loft.

the HomerSapien

Fast Food Freestyle - Freestyle rap your order at the drive-thru.

Brutal Legend - an upcoming video game about Eddie Riggs, a roadie (voiced by Jack Black, natch) who gets lost in an alternate diminsion and has to fight monsters, "armed with a broadaxe, a guitar, and a big block V8". Yes, there's supposed to be an umlaut over the 'u' in 'Brutal'.

UIM SOCIAL INDEX update

20 Jan - Sun - 275
21 Jan - Mon - 60
22 Jan - Tue - 6
23 Jan - Wed - 6
24 Jan - Thu - 20
25 Jan - Fri - 130
26 Jan - Sat - 0
27 Jan - Sun - 362
28 Jan - Mon - 0
29 Jan - Tue - 20
30 Jan - Wed - 6
31 Jan - Thu - 10
01 Feb - Fri - 140
02 Feb - Sat - 1
03 Feb - Sun - 346
04 Feb - Mon - 1
05 Feb - Tue - 90
06 Feb - Wed - 2
07 Feb - Thu - 0
08 Feb - Fri - 1
09 Feb - Sat - 0

Yeah, we got a little out of synch over here on the bench.

Yes, I apologize to the half-dozen maniacal Bench fans who note that I missed all manner of target dates, and also note that I cannot even reliably add three weeks to any given date.

The Bench has been quiet for most of six weeks. About one-eighth of a year. I feel bad, but I think I would have felt worse actually schlepping here while coughing and hacking and choking on phlegm.

The header lists the next four posting dates. I've triple checked them for accuracy.

The excuses are about what you'd expect: weather and health. Both sapped my willingness to trudge down to Screenz and post; both sapped my minimal willingness to construct coherent sentences, even at work.

Again, I consider shutting down this hollow sham of a mockery. But I'll give it until the end of 2008.

Next post: 9 February 2008 (barring blizzards or bronchitis).

Heh. Snicker. Mwahahaha

http://planetkaren.girl-wonder.org/index.php?strip_id=511

There's really only one question to ask:

Will It Blend?

UIM SOCIAL INDEX update

09 Dec - Sun - 105
10 Dec - Mon - 0
11 Dec - Tue - 0
12 Dec - Wed - 10
13 Dec - Thu - 2
14 Dec - Fri - 91
15 Dec - Sat - 0
16 Dec - Sun - 264
17 Dec - Mon - 0
18 Dec - Tue - 3
19 Dec - Wed - 0
20 Dec - Thu - 0
21 Dec - Fri - 240
22 Dec - Sat - 300
23 Dec - Sun - 300
24 Dec - Mon - 300
25 Dec - Tue - 300
26 Dec - Wed - 300
27 Dec - Thu - 180
28 Dec - Fri - 61
29 Dec - Sat - 0
30 Dec - Sun - 172
31 Dec - Mon - 49
01 Jan - Tue - 7
02 Jan - Wed - 0
03 Jan - Thu - 0
04 Jan - Fri - 0
05 Jan - Sat - 1
06 Jan - Sun - 4
07 Jan - Mon - 0
08 Jan - Tue - 3
09 Jan - wed - 6
10 Jan - Thu - 6
11 Jan - Fri - 6
12 Jan - Sat - 0
13 Jan - Sun - 200
14 Jan - Mon - 6
15 Jan - Tue - 13
16 Jan - Wed - 20
17 Jan - Thu - 13
18 Jan - Fri - 126
19 Jan - Sat - 0

Brief thanks.

A small section of gratitude to DBAChief and LowRider for the beverages and the companionship (and the tolerance of my goes-too-far humor) this evening.

An Ops Room Exchange, for Old Times Sake.

I spent a little more time in the Ops room this past week than I normally have to spend there.

Rifleman: "UIM should take this quiz."
UIM: "I'm not taking any quiz."
Jedi RobMo: "It's a 'Which Comic Book Hero Are You?' quiz."
UIM: "Not interested."
Rifleman: (annoyed) "Apparently, I'm Supergirl."
(Evil grin spreads across UIM's face.)
UIM: "Jedi RobMo, I will pay you 20 dollars if you assign to his e-mail account the alias mailto:kara.zor.el@{companyname}.com ."
Jedi RobMo: "Hell, yeah."
Rifleman: (staring dead straight at UIM) " Pookie-boo@{companyname}.com ."
(UIM's expression falls.)
UIM: "Uh, never mind that 20 bucks, RobMo."

When I Annoy Some British Person Someday, I Have My Snappy Comeback Ready.

Annoyed British Person: "You're a right bastard."

UIM: "I thought it was better than being an obtuse bastard."

Pleasant surprise.

Thanks to Metrocake for the surprise phone call at work.

I was fairly baffled by her continual references to Celine Dion, but if I weren't baffled for a couple minutes out of every conversation with Metrocake, I would assume the pod people had taken her over.

UIM'S SECRET SHAME: I OFTEN FORGET WHICH ONE IS WHICH

(It's not that I can't figure it out reasonably quickly. It's just so embarrassing to be a font of Useless Information and not immediately know.)


Bill Pullman / Bill Paxton

Noel Coward / Cole Porter

Korn / Rage Against the Machine

Kate Bosworth / Katherine Heigl

Crowded House / Squeeze

Of course, there's limits to my shame. I don't feel at all bad if I accidentally confuse Fried Green Tomoatoes and Mystic Pizza and Steel Magnolias.

Pleasant surprise to usher out the old year.

TriAthlete rings me up at work, wants to know if I can step outside for a few minutes.

After trying to get him to reschedule this to a moment when I'm not a work, I meet up with him on the street, and he gives me a good-luck bottle of alcohol for the New Year.

He's a good guy, and I'm grateful that he bothers to stay in touch with me.

We'll blog a blurb of 'not just yet' for Auld Lang Syne

Yeah, I missed the target posting date, and I really won't be posting anything new until next Saturday, 5 January.

What with travel, bronchitis, work, and my general levels of procrastination, I simply decided that this past Saturday was more important for recupertation, mental and physical.

So, I'm adjusting the header, and tomorrow, while I'm off from work, I'll solder myself to the keyboard at home until blood spurts from my head onto the flash drive.

In the meantime, here's wishing all the loyal readers health and joy in the new year to come. And be careful - there's some crazy folk out there.

New Terry Moore comic title this spring.

After I got back from vacation, I hit up Chicago Comics and picked up, among other items, the new Diamond Previews catalog.

And Terry Moore is launching a new comic. According to his blog, it should be in stores in March.
As uneven as Strangers in Paradise could be, I still liked it a lot when I picked it up a year ago. So, I have medium-high hopes for this.

It went well

The holiday vacation visit with Mom went well.

I don't think anything annoyed me at all until the last day, when I took the wrong ramp from Route 15 to Interstate 76, and had to go 10 miles in the wrong direction, then turn around in a traffic-congested intersection, and race back those same ten miles plus the ten I was supposed to travel originally, with very little time to spare. Totally my own fault. But they let me on the plane, anyway.

Mom has changed, living on her own, and coming up against some limitations as she ages. But she does still have her sense of humor.

Mostly we just bonded over watching TV. The Crossing Jordan marathon was a cornerstone of one day's activities.

The day after Christmas, we went to see National Treasure 2. (Mom had surprised me by being interested in it, and by having liked the first one.) It was about as bad as I expected, but fun. The all-new Goofy short before it, "How to Hook Up Your Home Theater," was noticeably better than the movie. And the Speed Racer trailer's sheer corniness cracked me up again.

Yeah, overall, the visit went well. Whew.

VHS and conversation

After I left Mom's house for the airport, I stopped at the Video MAxx rental shop in Hanover, to see if I could pick up one or two more VHS tapes that were on sale.

I chose two Kentucky-Fried-Movie knockoffs, Groove Tube and Sex O'Clock News, and a World War II adventure movie, Guns of Navarone.

The senior couple running the store were not that quick to decide whether the two knockoffs were for sale at all.

Senior Male Store-Owner: "No, I never put a sticker on this one."
UIM: "No problem. I thought everything in that section was for sale. I make mistakes a lot. No biggie."
Senior Female Store-Owner: "Did we ever get a DVD copy of it?"
Senior Male Store-Owner: "No, I don't think anyone has made one. It's a pretty bad movie."
UIM: "This is true. I did see it in college, and it was awful. But since I thought it was only going for a couple of bucks, I would give it a shot."

So, as it turns out, all I bought was Guns of Navarone.

Senior Male Store-Owner: "So, are you a regular customer here?"
UIM: "No, I actually live in Chicago. I only stop in here every four months when I'm visiting my Mom."
Senior Male Store-Owner: "Oh, I asked because we're thinking on closing up the shop, and we want to give our good customers deals on tapes if we go."
UIM: "Oh, well, I'm just not in town often enough."
Senior Male Store-Owner: "Well, we just wanted to know."
UIM: "Understood. If I come back in April and I see the sign on the door, 'Gone Somewhere Warm,' I'll understand."

Because I'm Just That Smooth

Running around getting the Christmas gifts for Mom - mostly gift cards.

At Waldenbooks, the light-brunette early-twenties-ish sales clerk seemed mildly interested in the Batman: Gothic graphic novel I was purchasing.

"And I need a gift card."

"How much?"

I named the amount, and she asked, "Would you like to be my friend?" (This was not the same clerk as two years ago.)

"Well, this is for my Mom, and you can't play the 'I carried you in my body for nine months, through a Brooklyn heat wave' card. Sorry."

She snickered more than I thought the gag was worth, and kept ringing me up.

And just for a moment I thought, "Should I try to get her phone number?"

Obviously, I didn't. This is me, after all.

"Something about doing the same thing over, but expecting a different result?"

For the first time in my life today, I actually bought an issue of Game Informer magazine.

I was in the City News magazine shop on North Cicero, and I looked over at the gaming shelf for a second.... and there was the top of the Ghostbusters symbol peeking out over the next row of magazines.

Oh, it was in my hot little hands immediately. The only video game at which I ever got any good was the hacked copy of Ghostbusters which I had on my Commodore 64.

The publisher will be Sierra Games, and the developers are a shop named Terminal Reality. Game site link.

Aykroyd and Ramis are writing the script for it. Murray, Aykroyd, Ramis, Hudson, and Pots will be doing voice work. The player character will be going on shakedown missions of new equipment with Ray Stantz and Egon Spengler. And there will be a ghostly librarian sequence. And there will be a Slimer-in-the-reception-room sequence. And there will be a Sta-Puft-Marshmallow-Man-rampage sequence.

I re-read the article three times on the Irving Park bus. Aykroyd says that this is practically the Ghostbusters 3 movie.

Target date is October 2008. There will be a PC version, as well as gaming console versions.

So, between this news, and the re-launch of the Commodore brand as Intel-based gaming PCs, I should be able, by the end of this year, to be living like it's 1984 all over again. (Alhtough maybe it would be better and cheaper to just spend time at the http://c64s.com/ emulation site.)

Of course, it's not like major aspects of my life have changed in 23 years. I'm just as pimple-ridden and repulsive to women as I was at the start of the second Reagan administration.

Random Smart-Aleck Remarks

"If I see some pale b***h on a sled, I'm running way the f**k in the other direction."

"Turkish delight, my a**. You'd sell me out for half a f**king Circus Peanut."

"If you confuse 'samurai' and 'ninja' one more time, I will put snakes in your bedroll."

ADULT-THEME: An Extended Night of Naughtiness

(Caution: The following post contains a discussion of certain topics which some may find offensive. Those who find a discussion or consideration of 'gentlemen's clubs' offensive would be better served by skipping this post.)

For certain advertisements, I am a sucker. I know this.

So, when Q101 started running ads for the Admiral Theater indicating that they would start up a Naked Pillow Fighting exhibition every Wednesday night, I immediately knew, in my heart of hearts, that I was going to find a way to go.

It seemed exactly so tacky that it had to be seen once.

So, given that I had a little vacation time still to use before the year ended, and given that I was a little ahead on bills, I scheduled for time off on he 13th, and went to the Admiral tonight.

Of course, I had to recognize that the last two times I have gone (here and here), the mere fact of being there gave me the adrenaline rush that turned my hands cold and my mouth dry, and set my teeth chattering and my legs shivering. So I knew this was going to happen again, and tried some deep-breathing exercises. eventually I was under control, and wearing my hooded jacket, so only a couple of the dancers, when they took my hand as they sat down at my table, commented on how cold my hands were.

The three exhibition bouts themselves were goofy and low class, and the battle royalle ("last woman holding a pillow wins") at the end had me wincing continually. The middle-aged MC's jokes had me wincing more, although I didn't take offense when he heckled me from the stage. It made sense. I was at a close table and while all the guys coming in for College Night were whooping and whistling and hollering, I was letting out the occasional, mildly interested, 'woo'.

MC: "And look at this guy, just sitting here. Are you alive, kid?"
UIM: (cupping a hand to his ear) "What's that? Can't hear you, sonny."

The judging of the bouts was done by one Admiral employee (the ad man who thought up the idea) and one new-chosen member of the audience each time.

MC: "How about you, Old Stone Face? You wanna be a judge?"
UIM: (covering heart) "Too much excitement for my old heart. Get one of the young guys up there."

(In case anyone wonders how the hell to score a pillow fight, +1 point for a torso shot with the pillow, -5 points for a head shot.)

So, the bouts were mildly interesting, though I didn't find any of it a turn-on. It was exactly as goofy and pointless as I expected, so I wasn't diasppointed.

Most of the fun I had tonight was in talking with the dancers who stopped by my table. Most of them were just working on a hustle for the expensive dances, but given the limits of my funds, I saved the expensive dance for the end.

Three quasi-exceptions to this were 'Brooklyn', 'Niki' and 'Skylar'

'Brooklyn' had loads of tattooes. I think she was the first dancer to si down with em, and the conversqationwas light and pleasant, but I don;t remember much. Quick table dance, and she was off to find other customers.

'Skylar', one of the later dancers, got right in my face with her beaming broad face, and her gorgeous wavy dark hair hit my shoulders.

Skylar: (hyperactive and smiling) "Hi."
UIM: (startled and amused) "Hello."
Skylar: "I'm Skylar."
UIM: "UIM."
(Brief handshake)
Skylar: "Have you ever seen a woman's G-Spot before?"
UIM: "Seen? No."
Skylar: "Do you wanna?"
UIM: (quick glance to the side) "I'm pretty sure that's against the rules."
Skylar: "Well, not out here, but in the VIP rooms."
UIM: (trying not to crack up laughing) "I'll think about it."
Skylar: "When's the last time you got laid?"

I whsipered the year into her ear.

Skylar: "You need to get f**ked."
UIM: (grinning) "Others have offered that opinion, too."

Again, there was only a table dance. But I was pretty damn amused at the provocateur persona she was acting out.

The most fun, though was with 'Niki', a small lithe brunette, who came up from behind me and touched me on the shoulder.

Niki: "Hey, there."
UIM: (slightly startled) "Oh. Hello."
Niki: "I'm Niki."
UIM: "UIM."
(UIM motions to the other seat at his table.)
(Niki sits down.)
(Niki is swaying slightly as she sits.)
Niki: "What brings you here?"
UIM: "Well, getting out, meting pretty women, flirting with them a little."
Niki: "You've been here before?"
UIM: "About eight months back."
Niki: "You should get out and party more often. I was just out partying with my bartender friend before work."
UIM: "Ok."
Niki: "Are you offended when girls kiss each other?"
UIM: "No."
Niki: "Cause she and I were kissing each other, and this other woman came up and joined us."
UIM: "I'd imagine guys were trying like crazy to buy all three of you drinks."
Niki: "Oh, yeah. So what do you do."
(I explained briefly.)
UIM: "What do you like to do?"
Niki: "Oh, well, I go out dancing. I write music. I design clothes."*
UIM: "Wow."

The chit-chat flowed on a bit.

Niki: "You know, I just wrote a song about you, while I was sitting here."
UIM: (trying not to crack up laughing) "Really."
Niki: (nodding slowly) "You wanna hear it?"
UIM: "I would be honored."
Niki: "Lean in close."
(UIM leans in.)
Niki: (softly, moans three times) "UIM."
(Niki pulls back a little.)
Niki: "What do you think?"
UIM: "A little too much like Andrea True's 'More, More, More.' Depends what sort of rhythm you put behind it, I guess."

And, yes, at the eventual end of the banter, there was a quick table dance.

I wound up staying until 02:30 - no work the next day, yippee! I got a cab about two blocks away, and got home around 03:00.

I have to express gratitude for the time to 'Brooklyn', 'Hannah', 'Niki', 'Skylar', and 'Miss Kitty' (a tall tattooed brunette who vaguely resembles Juliet Landau).

And given that actress Briana Banks will be making an appearance in early March, I know for what I am saving my pennies right now.

-

Yes, I know. This behavior isn't emotionally healthy for me, in the long run. It's just another crutch that keeps me from putting myself out in the real world, where I have to actually risk a certain amount of rejection in order to find a healthy mature relationship with a woman who cares about me.

However, I was always a person to project from small number of data points. (This is the part where my therapist gets annoyed at me.) I made valid attempts in the past, and the best way they ever ended was with my emotional damage. The worst ways they ever ended was with me as a barely-contained volcano of rage.

I cannot force myself to believe that if I clean myself up, and put myself out there, any woman will ever be interested in me for real. The likely outcomes are 'outight rejection', 'cruel manipulation,' or 'bunny-boiler who won't admit that the relationship is toxic.'

Yeah, some of you are mumbling that this sounds too much like, "I wouldn't join any club who would have someone like me for a member." It's not, but I doubt I would convince you that I'm speaking the truth.

So, I have these crutches. My situation is why these crutches exist in the world. Not everyone can find the right person. Not everyone has the skills and temperament to find the right person. Some of us just don't fit in anywhere, and some of us just give up too easily, anyway. And we need to dull the pain, meet the need somehow.

So, as long as I don't let these crutches interfere with the other fucntioning areas of my life, I think it's all okay.

---
* You know, I don't think I've ever met a woman who didn't think she could design clothes.