Monthly Archives: January 2010

Terry Tate, Office Linebacker

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Indie this

I can’t sleep tonight. Either it’s some guilt buried deep within me or maybe it’s the party upstairs. Anyway, I went back to bandcamp.com to check the small-timers and have come up with a list of songs I recommend downloading for only .99¢. Some of these you can download the entire album for your own price. Like I said, these are small-timers. Meaning you won’t hear them on the radio, but they are talented. You’re also not going to like every song on every album, but it’s free to listen to…

Claim To Fame, A Captured Moment In Time, by DL Incognito

Where Is Arizona?, by Mike°D

Havana Mambo 2012, by Xaviant Haze

Now this one costs more than a buck, but I think they’re pretty cool in their own right…

Sacred Science by Office Ekiti

I really liked Ground Level and Charmed. It’s a good thing that my shades were drawn, ‘cause my headphones have a 15 foot cord and I got jiggy with it listening to these.

Categories: Music | Leave a comment

You gotta be kidding me

I went to a wake last week for man my dad served with in the Army. Dad doesn’t like to go to these things alone, so I went with him. Besides, Irish wakes are usually more fun than a Cubs game.

The showing was in Park Ridge, so my old man said he wanted to have a drink or two at Curragh on Northwest before we went. Sure enough, some of his other Army buddies were already at the bar putting back a few when we arrived. I knew most of these guys from various functions around town, christenings, weddings, block partys, etc.

We made it to the funeral home around 6:30 and it was almost full. Little old ladies trying to remember the names of all these strange people, kids running around waiting to be smacked, told to sit down and be respectful, people waiting in line to visit with the deceased and the family, and in the back we had the family’s friends, mostly cops and suits. Of course, before we could get in line, Dad being Dad, tells me to “get those damn kids to sit down and be respectful” and then join him in the line. My pleasure.

So, we’re standing in line behind an old lady who’s claiming to be a descendent of Anton Cermak, when I see the Monsignor move, exposing the widow and a guy in a wheelchair of sorts, who looked like Stephen Hawkins, except in much worse shape if you can imagine. I knew the woman was the widow, but who was this guy? Dad said “John” is the youngest of the five children and left it at that. However, I had never heard of the guy before tonight.

After maybe ten minutes we’re greeted by the widow, who Dad and I talked to for a few minutes, then approached the deceased and said a prayer. We then went to the back to join the group of family friends and have a drink. It is an Irish wake you know. So, we spent the next hour or so asking about various people we haven’t seen in a while, who’s kids are doing what now, so on and so forth. But the entire time I kept catching myself looking over at “John” wondering if he was born with this way or if he was in an accident, and if so, how bad of shape was he really in.

Just before 8:00 the place starts to empty, so Dad and I go over to say goodnight to the widow and pay our last respects. As soon as we walked up, the widow asks Dad if he remembers John, Dad smiles and says “Of course, how are you John”.  Well, John is in bad enough shape that he can barely move his eyes to look up at my Dad. Now, I’m sick to my stomach knowing John will never have the opportunity to jump for joy once our Bears bring home another title or run down to the corner to catch a cab, so he won’t be late for a party, so on and so on.

Then the widow puts her arm around John, looks at me and says “John’s been through so much in his life, he’s my inspiration.” She went on to explain that John was twelve when he fell out of a second story window and injured his spine, causing him to use a wheelchair. Then when he was twenty-two, the van transporting him to a medical appointment was blindsided and John was subsequently paralyzed from the neck down, plus he’s had several operations on his brain, which explained the scars. THEN, two years ago, he was diagnosed with shingles. But that’s not all. The widow goes on to state that they call him “Lucky”, because he’s sooooo lucky to be alive. That’s right, they call him “Lucky”.

Categories: Northside View | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

If you are not here, please raise your hand

I was hanging out at the Green Mill last night, when I get a call on my cell around 1:30, and it’s Marty. He’s been out with his skank girlfriend, they’re too drunk to find their car, and they’re asking if I can come up there and help them find it. Sure, I got nothing better to do, like the Elisa Cuthbert (Alison) I’ve been drinking with the last ninety minutes.

When is this guy going to get it right? First off, the Courtney Love-wannabe skank he’s been dating the last year and a half thinks he’s sexy sporting the Emo look. Um, I don’t think dressing like a confused sixteen-year-old boy is the best thing for a thirty-six year old man, but what do I know. What started out as a near-sighted date, really took off once they once they went to Lollapalooza. He was gone for three days and came back looking brainwashed. Since then he’s all about “Skank”, as we call her.

But, frankly, some people may look at him and think she was made-to-order for him. As long as I’ve known him, he’s been the one to do something really weird or stupid. I guess to bring attention to himself. A couple of summers ago me and a bunch of guys (incl Marty) went down to Evansville, IN to gamble on their boat and at a nearby horse track in Kentucky.

So, we’re at the track surrounded by legions of rednecks and we’re all three sheets in the wind from drinking beer and smoking cheap cigars. We had a box next to about fifteen 4-wheel-driving,  deer-huntin’, possum-eatin’ union boys and we (both realms of reality) had been having a great time buying rounds and talking football, mma, Megan Fox vs. Halle Berry, and the regular macho what-not, when Marty has a fit with our server because he can’t get one of his vaginally-challenged mixed drinks. Don’t get me wrong, But I don’t think even Tony Soprano would stand there and try to order a Caribbean Breeze at a horse track in Kentucky, literally, “down by the river”. Am I right or am I right?

Back to this morning, I explained to my Elisa Cuthbert what was going on and she offered to ride up there before I could even say “sorry”.  Fifteen minutes later we’re outside looking into the window of Ricky G’s on Western (cool little place if you have the chance to go) and we see Marty and Skank making out at the bar, like it was a conjugal visit.

I grab Marty and Skank throw them into our cab and got them home safely. In fact, they made out the entire cab ride home AND she had a “wardrobe malfunction” on the elevator going up to Marty’s. But now I had to pay them back for possibly screwing up my blue light time with Elisa. As Marty, Skank and Elisa were in the kitchen, I went to the bathroom to pull a switcharoo. Now, I’m no genius, but I was sure they had a 99.9% chance of having sex.  So, me being me, I emptied the little KY bottle and filled it with his Germ X Sanitizer. I haven’t heard from him yet, so maybe they enjoyed it.

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