"KEEP IT TOGETHER!"

If you were anywhere on Roscoe Avenue last night - you might have heard me saying this to myself..out loud. It didn't work. I got punished for being stupid and going out on a 'school night'.

Let's back up a few hours. I'm currently working a hell convention (more on that later) and normally would never go out knowing that I had to be at the hotel at 6:30AM, but I decided that I should work out that kink in my shoulders by downing a few beers at my co-worker's (Serena) birthday party. It was $15 all-you-can-drink and I figured it couldn't hurt to suffer a little on Saturday.

Suffer I did!

I behaved fairly well (for me). I drank my beer, and then I left at my self-imposed curfew. However, on the walk home, I started having violent stomach pains, but they would come in waves so I figured I would just get home and take some Tums and call it a night.

But about 2 blocks from home, the pain started to become more intense. I had to turn off my iPod to concentrate. This was no longer a simple matter. There was a very large and angry gas bubble challenging my body, and I knew all too well that if I let even a bit of it out... it would release an explosion of epic proportions.

I clinched harder and tried to walk faster, which was difficult given the ice patches all over the sidewalk (where I had slipped only 2 weeks earlier). It got to the point where I was literally talking out loud- "Keep it together, Eric. You're almost 31. You cannot shit in your pants a block from home! You can do this. Come on"

As I walked past The Closet, as the pressure continued to build, I prayed no one inside would see the look of terror on my face that clearly said "I'm about to crap myself". No sooner had I rounded the corner, my mind over matter battle was lost and the matter escaped in to my pants. I did a new kind of walk-of-shame to my apartment, rode the elevator alone (thank god!), and was greeted by Lucy's judgemental face. I spent the next 20 minutes cleaning up the evidence of my accident and text-ending my friendship with DSP who upon hearing that I had shit myself only offered this support -"You suck at life".

Needless to say, I won't be going out on 'school nights' anymore. Lesson learned!

one....TWO........

I took the day off yesterday and ended up in the suburbs for about 48 hours, which is more than enough time in my book. All joking aside, it's always good to spend a little time with my parents and enjoy the serenity of the 'burbs. It's almost erie how quiet it is out there. I actually have somewhat of a hard time sleeping because I'm so used to the noise of the city.

Speaking of noise- I took advantage of borrowing my Mom's car to take a few hours to go to my favorite little strip mall. I actually ended up holding myself hostage in a few clearance racks for about 2 hours and ended up finding a brand new winter jacket. This is a huge relief a I lost my previous winter jacket in a 'blackout' incident (see previous post).

But my shopping adventure wasn't all fun and games. For a place that I consider serene, there is quite a LOT of public noise that I don't care for in stores. I don't know if it's because I'm not really zoned for children, but I find myself enraged and thankful that I don't have children every time I set foot in a Target these days.

Things I don't understand /piss me off:

#1- I get it that you've learned to zone your children out when they screaming, crying, or throwing an overall tantrum but for the for love of God, have some consideration for those around you. I'm sorry, but my mother never allowed such outbursts in stores. I remember specific incidents in which she left her cart and pulled my out of the store by my arm barely dragging my feet behind me.

#2- This counting thing...does it really work? You know the drill "one....TWO.....". Where is 3? I always hear "oh, I never get to 3...cause they just KNOW". Um, yeah...no, you never get to 3 because you're a wimp. Just once I'd like to see a parent get to 3 and lose it. You're allowed! It's your given right as a parent!

#3- Speaking of getting to 3, when did spanking or the occasional slap become child abuse. To this day I still have a fear of the wooden spoon because that was my mother's weapon of choice for swatting my ass for mouthing off or whatever other childhood offense I had committed. There is clearly a difference between discipline and child abuse.....learn it and use it.

I could probably go on and on. I'm sure most parents would say that since I don't have kids, I don't know what I'm talking about. They're right. However, I do know what I'm talking about when I say that if your kid is out of control in a store...you're the asshole, not your kid. Get some control in the situation, I BEG of you. Not everyone in the world has kids or even likes kids- so stop assuming that we should have to tolerate your lack of public decency.

Seth Meyers is a god!

"If you're at a party and you see Michael Phelps smoking a bong, and you're first thought isn't 'wow I get to party with Michael Phelps', and instead you take a picture and sell it to a tabloid, you should take a long look in the mirror because you're a DICK! And I mean really!"

Wake up call - You're OLD!

Being that it's my birthday month (ahem!) I'm already fully aware that I'm getting older. 30 was one thing...I mean, it's this big landmark...blah blah blah butI think I was under some sort of assumption that it stopped there. 31? Really?

So this morning, the first of my alarms goes off (I hit snooze a minimum of 3 times) and it's N'Sync's "Bye Bye Bye". Generally I smack the alarm off to snooze immediately, but in this case I took a moment to do a little bed dance. After said dance was completed, I hit the big snooze button. However, I was unable to drift off to sleep for another 9 minutes because my alarm had just sent me an alarming message.

The radio station that I have my alarm set to is the "lite" station in Chicago...and THAT'S the song they were playing? N'Sync's 'Bye Bye Bye' is already considered lite music? What's next? I'm going to hear it while I'm getting my next teeth cleaning? (FUCK- that reminds me, I have to call the dentist!)

Anyway- as if Mondays weren't depressing enough, I had to wake up to a reminder that time is indeed marching on? Stop this train, I want to get off!

My Life Would Suck Without You

So I'm fully aware that one of the reasons that I started this blog was to document memorable times in my life. However, there are times when words just won't cut it.

To summarize my weekend couldn't begin to give it the credit that it deserves. What I can say is - I have a great life, and great friends.

And to DSP? I actually hope the photographer at the gala caught us. It's not every day you see two 30 year olds geeking out to a Kelly Clarkson song, dressed in formal wear, all the while taking turns sticking an educational flashcard of a Starfish to their foreheads. Let's never grow up!

That being said, there IS always room for growth and this weekend, progress WAS made: I was able to avoid Chuck's and blacking out. However, I did manage to eat it on a lovely ice patch while walking to the Closet. Two steps forward...One fall on my ass and back.

Argh- let the Monday blues set in.

To Chuck or Not To Chuck: That is the Question!

I have a problem.

They say the first step is admitting it.

I've done some good work in the last few years, or so I thought. I quit smoking, that was supposed to help with the hangovers. I also thought that I was toning the drinking down a little. Let's face it, I'm not 18 anymore. However, I'm noticing that while I'm not drinking as often, I'm certainly making up for it with the quanity when I do drink.

Shots? Yes please!

I used to accuse my friend DSP of being an enabler, but he moved to Michigan last summer...so me thinks I need to have a heart to heart with the man in the mirror. I'm asking him to change his ways.

For some reason, I remembering less and less of my nights out. Sadly, this involves going to a late night watering hole that we now call "Chuck's".....solo. There was a time when this used to be a fun group effort. We'd all go and dance like rockstars, lose eachother, then laugh about it in the morning.

That all changed when DSP moved and AC Slater has decided that he can't stay up past 1AM to babysit me any longer- leaving me to my own devices. I somehow feel it necessary to cap off my evening at Chuck's so I walk (stumble?) there, pay my $5 to get in, and find myself hanging out in the bleachers for awhile. The bleachers you ask? Oh, it's an area off to the side of the dancefloor reserved for the observer waiting to make his move. For me it's a holding tank so that I can chew on my tongue for awhile after partaking in the required Sambuca shot that I do as a reward for checking my coat and making it to the bathroom successfully.

DSP yelled at me for being a bleacher-dweller (not for my solo Chucks missions, which is the real issue, let's focus)...so I've now taken to the dance floor. At 2AM, the glitter cowboy boot lowers from the ceiling, and the smoke machines begin their assualt and I fear that the pointy fingers come out and I look like the above photo. Worse yet, when I wake in the morning (unclear of how I got home - we'll just assume it was a cab) I rarely remember what I did for those few hours. That's right, I'm a Britney Spears album: Blackout! Maybe that's for the best - but come on, if I don't remember it, what's the point of going in the first place? My mentor at work (who must be getting sick of this "Groundhog Day"-ish Monday morning conversation) has suggested I tie string around my finger to remind myself to not go to Chuck's alone anymore. I don't see this working - a string around my finger probably wouldn't go with my outfit.

I've yelled at my friends that I cannot be held responsible for my actions, but it's of no use, they say that I cannot be convinced otherwise. I say, "c'mon people- get creative!" Friends don't let friends make complete asses of themselves!

So, this isn't so much of a cry for help as my own version of the string around the finger: putting it out there that I will no longer go to Chuck's alone. It's war against myself. May the best man win. Those of you who have met Derick (my drunken alter-ego)- say farewell, I'm burying that bastard deep.

But if you see him at Chuck's - don't tell me about it. Chances are I don't remember and it's probably better that way.

And the Oscar goes to.....

So I've accomplished something that I strive to do every year, but never have - well, at least the years where the movies don't totally blow - I've seen all 5 movies that were nominated for Best Picture for the 2009 Oscars.

Truth be told, I've actually given up on awards shows in general (they were a staple of my early life) being that I'm currently of the opinion that "awards season" is over indulgent and Hollywood feels the need to pat themselves on the back a wee bit too much.

This year I feel like I have a little bit more of a reason to watch (besides Hugh Jackman hosting...whut!whut!) as I've made it my mission to see eveything....three of them within the last 48 hours.

So here it is- my list of the best...to uh....the 5th best:

1. Slumdog Millionaire

2. Milk

3. The Reader

4. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

5. Frost / Nixon

That's my vote and I'm sticking to it. And I love being right so we'll see what happens Feb 22nd.

Oh- and PS...I made the mistake of being late to the Reader and saw Kate Winslet's lady parts a little closer than I would have preferred. Damn that front row!

The Wonder of Pussy

When I say I live alone, I'm not really being honest. Truth be told

I share my space with the lovely ball of fur on your right. When I say ball of fur, I do not exaggerate. Everything I own is covered in a layer of cat hair. The couch, the bed, the counter top, end tables, books, towels, floors, ceiling fan, and even the walls. I would complain, but it doesn't really do me any good - it was my decision to take on Lucy, and most of the time I have to admit she is a good roomate. She's adorable, she loves to cuddle, and it's oddly comforting to wake up with her face right up in mine even though I know she licks her ass with that face. If only I were that flexible.

However, there are times when you could call ours a downright abusive relationship worthy of a bad Lifetime movie staring Tori Spelling and Tooncis the Driving Cat. Quickly after the 'Good Morning' formalities are over, it's on to the "meow" rant in which she demands to be fed. As soon as the food is laid down, she often looks at me like "what, that's it?". Listen bitch, I already gave in to the evil Vet-endorsed "Science Diet", so you're getting a pretty lavish meal there. Furthermore, she's scratched my faux-leather couch (which, for the record I suppose is my own fault for having a faux-leather couch) to shit, has chewed her way through her fair share of my headphones for my iPod, and no matter how many times I yell at her, she seems to love climbing UNDER the comforter, because it's the final frontier that she needs to cover with her hair.

The crowning glory came last summer when she had a urinary-tract infection. It all began innocently enough with a few random sprays of piss here and there. A visit to the (very-expensive) vet led to her first prescription. Have you ever tried to 'pill' a cat? It should be one of the competitions on American Gladiators. This glorious little white pill caused her to vomit all over the place. Now, my place is small....so a few piles of cat piss and vomit go a long way! Back to the vet- boo hoo hoo- everyone felt so bad for her, and all the pain she was enduring. HELLO? What about me! I'm living in a Jr. one-bedroom apartment now covered in a layer of cat secretions and hair! By the end of it all, I had turned the furniture upside down so that she couldn't make any further deposits and found myself doing everything sitting Indian-style on the hardwood floor. Wouldn't you know it, just days before I had decided she would have to be executed- everything cleared up? Looks like she shares my luck.....

Now, I have to admit, this may be a bit of karma. Anyone who knows me knows that I 'borrow' phrases from various places and use them to death. One of my favorites has always been, "yeah? well your house smells like cat pee". I mean, there aren't many smells worse than this so it's a pretty crafty insult. Additionally, ever since seeing the production of Avenue Q, I've substituted my original Desi-Arnez-inspired greeting of "Lucy, I'm hoooome" to "What's up Lucy the Slut!?"

But let's be honest, it's not like she can comprehend any of this and I certainly don't think she did any of this on purpose. Which leads me to my point - have you ever looked at your (or someone else's pet) pet and really thought about the whole concept? You have an animal.....living in your house! Sometimes when I'm drifting off to sleep - a time when my mind is curiously most active - I think about what it is she does for the 7 hours that I'm sleeping and it scares the shit out of me. That leads me to think about what does she do all day? I mean, I'd like to think it's a balanced timetable of alternated eating, shitting and sleeping, but without a kitty-cam, I will never be sure. What goes through that little kitty mind? Sometimes we stare at each other for a long time and I convince myself that we can read each other's thoughts. However, when I come in from an exceptionally cold day, I try to tell her how lucky she is that I provide a good home and warmth for her while she looks for the quick opportunity to dart in to the hallway. The only response I get is the 7PM "Meow" which clearly means "I don't understand your human language, I've been bored all day, shut-up and hold me NOW!"

Maybe there just really isn't that much to question. We've domesticated certain animals and on the simplest of levels....they're just meant for companionship and all they need in return is food, love...and someone to clean up their shit. This is probably the closest I will ever come to having children, so if these are the terms, I'll take it.

However, if that urinary-tract infection comes back....Lucy the Slut is out of here.

"When the teacher pops a test, then I know I'm in a mess...."

....you know the rest. And if you don't, well, then that's okay because this isn't about you. It's about me. I had a friend tell me that he doesn't read blogs because he thinks they are the most narcissistic thing a person can do. I find that funny, being that he regularly checks the Craigslist "missed connections" to see if that cute guy that was leering at him on the subway thinks he's hot and left him a note to tell him so.

So why "Saved By The Bell"? Well, clearly I have an unhealthy obsession with Zach Morris (however until Mark-Paul cuts his hair, he will remain dead to me) - but that's only one slice of the pie. I consider myself a very lucky person. I seem to always find a way to get by. It's not something I'm bragging about, it's just a fact: My tax refund check comes JUST as I was fretting about money. A friend decides to have a destination wedding over the weekend that they were going to assign me an awful account at work. The guy I was dating decides to cheat on me and saves me the disappointment of being with his sorry ass any longer....you get the idea. All joking aside- I DO feel very lucky in life, and I need to remember that. What better way to do that than to record my life journey (well, my post-30-life-journey anyway)?

So here's where I stand moving forward: I'm a month away from turning 31, I have a great condo, fantastic friends, a secure job (which is pretty damn lucky in this economy), a supportive and loving family - so I'm reminding myself of that as much as possible. Additionally, about 10 years ago, I had aspirations to write a book: "Memoirs of a Bitter Suburban Homo". Well, I'm not (totally) bitter and living in the suburbs anymore, but who knows....you have to start somewhere. This may not turn in to anything, but if I ever did want to pursue that avenue, at least I'll have some material to work with.

If there's one thing I've realized in the last year is that I need to take care of me above all else. Selfish? Sure. But that's where I'm at right now. I'm won't dismiss the fact that I'm an attention hungry person and I'll be sending out the link for others to read this and comment as they wish, but above all else I believe it will give me a creative outlet to rant, rave, question, and comment on all the things that fly around in this very interesting (oversized) head of mine.