Monthly Archives: November 2010


Marty called the other night and asked if I wanted to go with him to check out a new apartment for him and the hag, down in Pilson. I didn’t have any homework from work and I thought a drive would really hit the spot. Besides, we could stop by Abuelo’s for some grub.

So, I walk over to his brother’s house to meet him and I’m expecting to be there for maybe 5-10 minutes, because Marty knows that his brother Jerry drives me crazy with his fucked up ideas. For the last three months, he’s been talking about taking “MMA Lessons” at some new studio in Niles. First of all, the waste of DNA doesn’t even have a driver’s license, so how’s he suppose to get to Niles? Secondly, he’s 48 yrs old and an ex-doper. Excuse me, big time doper. Thirdly, he always starts something new every year and ends up quitting after two months with some lame excuse. And last, but not least, the instructor or whatever this asshole calls himself, is the biggest jag-off in town, after only Todd Stroger. I remember him when he was a bouncer at Excalibur back in the day. His nose looks like a tanned wedge of cauliflower, he’s had it broken so many times. Now, that’s the guy I want teaching me how to avoid a punch to the face.

Anyway, me and Jerry are in the kitchen having a beer, while Marty is on the porch calling his hag (she really is a hag, even my sister called her one). Jerry keeps going on about how this MMA shit could get him back in shape, build up his self esteem and maybe lead to something else, like a doorman job. He’s going on and on and on, for twenty minutes and OK, I guess I had heard enough.

I’ve been looking for a way to vent my career-based frustration, when I look at Jerry and asked if he’d like me to save him a couple grand on the lessons. He was dumb enough to say “Yeah, sure”, and now I can’t believe I did it, but I reared 1238409288_adam-slappedback and bitch-slapped him like he owed me back rent, leaving a huge, red hand print on the left side of his face. Then I said, “You really wanna pay to feel that 200 times a month?” This poor bastard’s eyes swelled up and turned red, and I thought he was actually going to cry. Marty hurried into the room as soon as he heard the slap and asked WTF happened and I told him I gave his brother a coupon. It sounded funny at the time, but now I do feel bad about the whole deal.

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

Sir, your cart is double parked.

A buddy of mine was recently on Check, Please! He knows every neighborhood diner in town. Nobody in Chicago comes close to Dave’s gastronomical knowledge and insight and he also always knows where to find the best drink specials too.

He picked out a greasy spoon, Moon’s Sandwich Shop, on the West Side. Check Please! is a local restaurant review show on PBS, hosted by some woman whose father is famous for something, what I don’t know. Most guests are normal people, with a dash of Gold Coast snobs thrown in to keep PBS donations coming in. So, the reaction of the other two guests to Dave’s choice is priceless. Especially the prima donna’s. Anyway, I’ll have to stop by sometime for a fat burger or Jump Ball.

Categories: News | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

*Monkey Gone To Heaven

Enjoying a cold beer or two last night at the Holiday Club was all I had in mind when I jumped on the red line, but I should have known better when I found myself seated across from the Moirae.  I tried not to look at them or get their attention, but I just couldn’t help myself. So, I casually looked at the reflection on the window next to me and checked out the one wearing the wool cap. I swear I saw her smile at me, so I turned my head and looked right at her. Unfortunately, the other two looked at me and rolled their eyes, while the wool cap fan simply snickered and looked away. Shit. Not exactly a confidence builder.

They got off at Wilson, going to scare the kids at Truman I suppose. I stayed on, closed my eyes and thought about more immediate concerns, like, was the Government behind Old Style changing their brewing process, and the show I watched the other night about penguins living in Antarctica. After watching 30 or 40 minutes of it, I was convinced that’s how the worst of us are re-incarnated, over and over.

Anyway, I jumped off at Sheridan, picked up some breath mints downstairs and headed over to the Holiday, with a rejuvenated spirit. It was crowded for a weeknight, and I thought about heading down the street to the Wrigleyville North Bar to check out the redhead bartender, but something told me to stay. Within a minute or two, I spotted some friends at the bar, said sup, and ordered a beer and chips. Within an hour of general bullshitting, I noticed that I had already had four beers. Well now, I guess tonight might be special. Damn the Fates and their stuck-up attitude.

So, now it’s two hours into the Thursday Night Edition of “Yeah, it could always be worse, I could be Keanu Reeves Agent” and I find myself now seven beers into it and I’m talking to Marty’s cousin’s best friend, who happens to be so hideous, that she makes Sarah Jessica Parker look like a super model (in fact, the bartender whispered to me that if she were his dog, he’d shave her ass and make her walk backwards), and thinking that I should slow down and eat something, but Marty and his brother were hell-bent on throwing up tonight and the best thing I could do is slip away to the other end of the bar and hide behind a fatty for an hour or so.

Before I excused myself, I took a big swig of Jerry’s Manhattan and swished it around my mouth to get rid of the Funyun breath that failed to keep the ugly away. Then, I  hit the men’s room, slid by the crew, made my way over to the other end of the bar, and ordered a Sloppy Joe and coffee. Within thirty seconds of receiving my sandwich, about ¾ of it was in my mouth, the other ¼ was on my shirt and I found myself smiling like a fool, humming “Monkey Gone To Heaven”, and thinking that Marty’s cousin’s best friend looks like Abe Lincoln, with better hair, from over here. And no, I wouldn’t fuck Abe Lincoln either.

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

Blog at

%d bloggers like this: