Krishni Returns Today

And let my liver be the 1st to say, "Thank you!"

Nah, just kidding.  While I did get a bit messed up on one or two nights, it was actually a pretty relaxing 10 days for me.  There were several nights where I was tucked neatly into bed before 10pm.  I really only pushed myself to the limit the day of my court hearing and even then, I was passed out by such a reasonable hour that I woke up fresh as a drunken daisy the next morning. 

As you may or may not recall, I had a few goals for my bachelorhood week.  Let's see how I did:

Walking a mile.  Total.
I may have walked more than a mile.  There is no way of knowing but I will say that I probably dropped more on cabs than I'm used to spending.  I'll count this as a win for me and a loss for exercise. 
Pizza.  Lots of it.
You know, Brad and I got a pizza the 2nd night Krishni was gone and I never ordered it again.  Granted, it was a mondo Art of Pizza pizza* and I ate off of it for the next few days but still.  Dominos surprisingly didn't get a dime of my money and I am pretty sure I can throw an empty beer can from my couch and hit the store. 
Movies.  Bad ones.
My short list:  Jennifer's Body (loved it), Predators (probably not good if you're sober), Cool Runnings (ditto), Futurama's Bender's Big Score and Bender's Game, Grown Ups (laughed harder than I ever thought I would at this movie.  I still think Kevin James sucks, though), The Hot Chick (yeah.  This one was not good) and Waterworld.  Because it never gets old. 
Drinking.  Heavily.
Had a fantastic boys night out on Friday night and the last drink I ordered was a "bourbon and orange juice".  Let's just say the conversation and camaraderie was better than that last drink. 
Porn.  Lots of it.
This was my next day.  All day.   
Sportscenter.  On a constant loop.
I was tremendously annoyed that PTI wasn't on all week.  Damn it. 
Baseball.  Picture-in-picture with Sportscenter. 
The friggin' Sox.  Just when I left them for dead they run off a 6 game win streak just to get my slim hopes pumped up before they punch my optimistic ass right in the head.  College football, why won't you get here faster?!
Tacos.  Lots of them. 
I ate the hell out of some tacos when Mel came over to watch the season finale of Supernatural (you know, the one that aired, like, 4 months ago?  Thank you DVR).  And my wife will be happy to know, all tacos came with actual vegetables in addition to copious amounts of fat, sodium and cholesterol. 
Mario.  In all incarnations.
I did, in fact, beat Mario Wii again while she was gone.  I guess what I'm saying is I did accomplish something. 
Pants.  Not gonna wear 'em.
Wait!  Clearly I accomplished two things!

So, it was a pretty good week but I'm glad that it ends tonight upon my gorgeous wife's triumphant return.  Fortunately, my bachelorhood isn't totally dead...she's returning just in time for football season!  Notre Dame kicks off on Saturday!  Woot woot!  Get your green on, babe!

I am truly living the dream**.

*if you are not familiar with the Art of Pizza, it is this FANTASTIC stuffed-pizza joint on Ashland Ave here in the city.  Folks, I've eaten a lot of pizza in my day.  Far more than you.  And I have never in my life eaten better pizza than the Art of Pizza.  Trust me.  Order today. 

**I am allowed to watch the game on Saturday, right Krishni?  Right?  Krishni?  I love you!

The Only 2011 Travelogue You will Require

People often ask me what it's like to work at the Rabbit.  The question most often asked is can I get the questioner free porn.  The answer is, of course, yes.  All you have to do is ask.  The second question I most often hear:  "Are there, like, naked ladies just running around your office?"  That answer is, "Not most of the time."  While there are occasionally scantily clad women in the office--for photo shoots and seasonal parties--I have to crush the fantasies of dudes everywhere when I tell them that this really is just an office.  My cube looks a whole lot like yours.  Only the top of my monitor is graced by one of my all time favorite Onion headlines:

It is my understanding that this is not allowed in many offices. 

Without further ado, welcome to my desk at work:

They say that a person's work space tells an awful lot about said person...by looking at my work area, you'd think I'm a sophomoric sports fan.  Can you even imagine?

From left to right as we travel across my desk:

Are you in one of these photos?  If so, drink!

No work space is complete without a series of photos of the ones you love.  Or the ones you love to drink with, as this case may be.  We have Mel and Panhandle up there sporting some nice bling after winning the Steppenwolf Gala King and Queen.  We have Brad and Nathan drinking beers at a brewery in stinkin' Boston.  We have Hank sporting a theoretical wooded spoon.  We have the last picture of my Godmother I own where she had any real dignity.  The 'Wolf softball team is present along with an underage drinking party on my Parent's back patio back in 1997.  Speaking of underage drinking...there is my sister Peggy contributing to the delinquency of a minor!  Thanks, Peg!   She's a doctor now!

I think it's important to have icons of your own personal heroes:

In that respect, I have a Geoffrey Rush action figure from the Pirates of the Caribbean, complete with sword, pistol and a juicy green apple.  He had a very nice hat a long time ago.  He (I) sadly lost it in the move from one office to the next. 

Speaking of figurines, I also have these happy little fellows that I purchased for $1 from a Michael's after Halloween two years ago:

I guess my shit job could be worse. 

You will also find a little shrine to Matt Groening:

Present and accounted for are all of my favorite Simpson's characters (Sadly, Milhouse had a full glass of ice water spilled on him.  Sniff, sniff) as well as the cast of Futurama.  Only the best show ever for nerds.

Below my cartoon friends, I have a list of dates that the Free Disney Meal plan is available at Walt Disney World.  Sigh.

I'll get back there someday...

Swinging over to the lower right hand corner of my desk, you will find a rather creepy selection of items:

That doll will murder you in your sleep.   It's why the Stormtrooper stoically stands ever vigilant. That, and he's sitting on top of a naked lady. 

I know what you're thinking and the answer is yes: those are, in fact, wind-up hopping lederhosen standing atop my novelty Benet Academy football.  Sharp eyed folks from Steppenwolf Theatre Company will also be able to spot one of those godawful oranges from that one Gala where we were apparently trying to blind our patrons. 

"But Mike," I hear you asking, "What about your gorgeous, super-smart and sexy wife?"  No worries!  She's here too.  With a pirate:

Arrrrrrrrr!

Bonus terrible fact:  the island where this photo was taken was the site of a horrific plane crash that changed the way pilots communicate to each other in cockpits across the world.  In a heavy fog, one pilot said "To hell with that tower!  I'm taking off!" and promptly flew into a taxing jet killing everyone aboard his plane and most folks aboard the other plane.

Whoopsie.

See!  Bonzer T's Home Skillet isn't just about moderately funny observances...it's also about history!

There are two diplomas I'm proud of earning over the course of my young life.  One is for graduating from Benet Academy, my scholastic home away from home.  The other is from the Taco Fu Master Program.  I graduated with honors:

Yeah, University of Tulsa.  You can go to hell.  

To achieve--according to my diploma--"Success in defending all that is taconess", you need to play this absurd game at the Taco Bell website wherein you must defend your plate of nachos supreme from a series of ginormous lucha libre wrestlers.  Seriously.  Try it out right now and print up your certificate so you can be as awesome as me (incidentally, when you go to the Taco Bell website now, there is a link that states "Made with Real Beef lawsuit dropped".  So we have that going for us.)

Posted all over my monitor, you will find a few Onion horoscopes that still make me laugh to this day.  Allow me to reprint them here because, come on, we all need a good laugh:

"While the directors of the Palomar Observatory admit the nebula had an unusual shape, they do not believe you caught God masturbating."

"When times are tough and the world around you seems grim, don't be afraid to turn to religion for a good, hearty laugh."

"Death by firing squad has a certain desolate nobility, but it will be ruined when the inept, drunken Australians fail to hit you above the waist with the first nine volleys."

"Your love of all living creatures will be on display this week when you open the world's first Animal Rescue Steakhouse."

And a new one that came off the calender today!

"Turns out your nightmarish descent into alcoholism and drug abuse will be a lot more fun than expected."

Finally, I wouldn't be a White Sox fan without some sort of way to taunt Cubs fans in the office:

Yeah, that's my 2005 World Series Champion Rally Sock.  Maybe if I started wearing those, Adam Dunn could get a damn hit. 

So that's that.  I realize that technically none of you asked to see what my desk looked like at work.  But that has never really stopped me before when it came to stupid shit like this.  Plus, I'm going to make an effort to blog a bit more seeing how my life has slowed down a bit after a frantic July. 

And not every post can be a winner. 

Soooooo Sleepy...

As you might imagine, I have a lot on my mind these days.  Normally, this doesn't affect my sleep patterns but last night was different.  By all means, I should have slept soundly:  I was awakened by my new upstairs neighbor vacuuming above my head at 9am on Sunday morning and Brad and I had dined at Garcia's yesterday afternoon which is a meal that would put any mere mortal to sleep.

Pictured above is a Garcia's burrito.  Only mine was smothered in melted cheese.

But I got another dose of bad news last night and it all just kept me awake.  It probably didn't help that my dinner yesterday consisted of 3 cookies and 2 glasses of vodka (a meal I like to call "The Drunken Girl Scout").  I would say I got 2 hours of sleep last night which is all well and good for a Saturday but terrible when I have to go to work on Monday and cheerily help grown men masturbate.


Because of my status as a member of the walking dead, this morning I am drinking caffene.  This is not a problem for most of the world.  Millions of Americans rely on a cup of coffee in the morning to kick-start their day.  In my case, though, while I have many vices, caffiene is not one of them.  I rarely drink the stuff and when I do, I get a little...weird. 

People don't believe this but I've never in my life done drugs.  I've never been "high" in the traditional sense.  However, if I have just the right amount of Mountain Dew, I start giggling, dancing and generally get excited about the dumbest things*.  And then I crash.  Hard.  So I have to continue adding caffeine to my body and riding a delicate wave that will keep me awake while not offending callers that desperately want to remove their pants**.


A few years back, I was on a road-trip with my buddy Brad.  When we stopped to gas up at some station in rural, rural Ohio, we found--much to my delight--that the gas station sold Jolt! cola.  I drank 2.  For the next hour or so, I sounded an awful lot like Roberto from Futurama:

I don't enjoy behaving like this.  Should I drink more of the stuff to even out my behavior?  Or is it a good thing that I don't drink caffeine too often?  Whatever.  I just look forward to getting some proper sleep tonight.  If only for Krishni's sake. 

*For instance, I was trying to think of something silly that I would get excited about and the term "Handjobs from Kittens" popped into my mind.  I laughed my ass off internally for a good 3-4 minutes. 

**Yes, I am well aware that it took me 3 tries to spell "caffeine" right.  I left that in as an example of me riding the caffeine wave and not giving a damn. 

Year 1

I love my wife.  She's amazing.  She's super smart, dead sexy and she laughs at all my jokes, even if that joke is about my balls.  She's funny, articulate, classy, huggable...she's awesome sauce.  She makes a mean Mac and Cheese, has an eye for design, and is an incredible photographer.  I mean, look at this:

She's loyal, enjoys Veuve Clicquot and Futurama, and doesn't think any less of me for my love of all things Gilmore Girls.  She deals with the 24 hour sports-cycle in our house, owns the world's greatest TV and I'm just gonna come out and say it: she has a great ass.

As of May 1st, 2011, I'll have been married to this wonderful woman for one full year.  Why she's put up with all my shit for this long is beyond me.  She really, really can do better.

You know what makes me sad though?  Assuming I haven't yet died from my 3rd heart attack, let's say we're married for 50 years.  As of yesterday, our marriage is now 1/50th over (sniff).

I think I'll just have to hug her extra tight tonight.