STICK WITH THE DEVIL YOU KNOW

A few weeks ago I got an offer in the mail to switch to AT&T U-Verse internet service; at first I was reluctant because the offer seemed to good to be true, but when I called the nice young man on the phone charmed me into "at least trying it out". Since the price was right, and because I was imagining elaborate sexual fantasies with who I imagined to be a hot guy on the other end of the line, I agreed.

Soon after a box the size of a fucking Buick arrived at my door. Actually, it was more akin to a box that a microwave would come in. Anyways, I got caught up in that thing called "life" and put it aside for awhile. Eventually I was told of numerous horror stories by co-workers, friends and in particular my roommate.

Fuck it. Today I called to cancel the service I never bothered to hook up. That was the easy part; since I was within the 30 day money back guarantee window, it wasn't an issue. I go to pack all the shit back into the spacious box and notice there isn't a return shipping label (they ship it back for free). So I called back and...

ME: "Hi, I am trying to return a router and modem but I don't see a return shipping label".

Customer Service Rep #1: "Hmm, that's odd, it should be in there".

ME: "Well, I looked all around the huge box and didn't see it".

CSR #1: "Hmm, well it should be in there".

ME: "It's NOT."

CSR #1: "Well, just put the order # on the box and that should be fine".

ME: "OK, where do I send it?"

CSR #1: "Please hold".

ME: [Lights cigarette]

CSR #1:: "OK, I'm going to have to transfer you".

ME: "..."

3 minutes on hold...

CSR #2: "HELLO - HOW ARE WE DOING TODAY?"

ME: "Hi, I'm fine, I just need-"

CSR #2: "WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU TODAY?"

ME: "I just need-"

CSR #2: "I JUST NEED TO BRING UP YOUR ACCOUNT HERE".

ME: [lights cigarette] [gives account information]

CSR #2: "GREAT, WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU TODAY?"

ME: "I need a shipping label to return a router and a modem".

CSR #2: "A WHAT NOW?"

ME: "A shipping label".

CSR #2: "..."

ME: "...to...return..."

CSR #2: "I'M GONNA HAVE TO PUT YOU ON HOLD PLEASE".

ME: [Considers if life is really worth living]

CSR #2: "THANKS FOR HOLDING, I HAVE TO MAKE A CALL TO OUR TECH DEPARTME-"

ME: "For a shipping label?"

CSR #2: "PLEASE HOLD".

After being thanked for my patience 3 more times, I was told that between the CSR, the Tech Person and a her supervisor, they couldn't figure out the what, who or why, but finally the collective brain trust assured me if I went to a UPS store they would be able to help me out. Seeing no other option besides suicide, I took the microwave sized box on the fucking bus.

Did I mention it's hot and humid as fuck today? Drenched in sweat, I see the pretty blonde I spoke with on the phone to confirm she could help, which she assured me should could. You know how this is going to end, right? After taking all the shit out the box, she can't match up the serial numbers to the stuff they shipped me.

At this point I'm considering just cutting my losses (or wrists) but make another attempt to call AT&T back, where I was transferred not once, twice or thrice, but FOUR TIMES until this one guy in the sales department (?) told me that I actually needed to take the microwave box to the Post Office. It's 4:42PM.

Somehow I kept my cool and calmly went back inside to collect all the shit that Blonde had spread out all over the place. And then there's this...

BLONDE: "So, how are we doing?"

ME: [Hands shaking with anger] "Apparently I have to take this to the Post Office".

BLONDE: "Oh, that's TOO bad".

ME: "Yeah...can I just get a piece of tape to seal this box?"

BLONDE: "Well, you're not going to like what I'm about to say".

ME: "..."

BLONDE: "I have to charge you $2 for tape".

OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD.

Wordlessly I left 2 crumpled dollar bills on the counter and walked out. I'm not one for conspiracy theories, but it really wouldn't surprise me if AT&T and UPS are in bed fucking each other on 14" black studded double ended vibrating Hello Kitty dildo powered by a diesel generator.

At least Comcast likes to cuddle after they politely rape me.

I POPPED A BONER AT THE GYM TODAY

This never happens to me, randomly popping a boner in public, at least not since high school. To my credit, this guy doing push-ups was the hottest guy I've ever seen in real life. 6'2", probably 195 of nothing but muscle, the perfect amount of beard subtle and a general air of fucking unadulterated hotness.

He appeared out of seemingly thin air, while I was using the ass machine, when I noticed him...and couldn't take my eyes off him . Usually SUPER good looking people annoy me, but damn son, I couldn't help myself. Thankfully before anyone noticed the tent in my gym shorts I moved over to the sit-down ab machine thing, and did my best not to look in his general direction.

Whew. I think I may need to beat off again.

I'VE NEVER HELD THIS MUCH MONEY IN HAND BEFORE

Over the last few months I've been stuffing whatever cash earned via tips I haven't been spending into an envelope; today I checked it and much to my surprise it amounted to over $2.000. WHOA squared yo! I mean...seriously.

I have no idea what I'll do with it...I'm good on rent, food and just bought a shit load of new clothes for Summer. Either I'll deposit it in the bank or buy a new bike or...I DON'T KNOW! I'm not smoking pot or doing any drugs right now so...?

Vacation? If I choose the former I feel like I need an armed guard to accompany me so I don't get jacked. And even then I'll feel like a drug dealer when I hand this fat stack of cash to the bank teller, ya know?

I suppose this is a good problem to have.

PS-Maybe take the new boy out?

EX-GOV ON THE RUN!

This afternoon I was driving over to pick up groceries, when I noticed a familiar man jogging down a side street near my apartment. He was rocking a black track suit and had an unmistakable head of hair. Could it be...wait really...HOLY FUCKING SHIT! None other than Illinois' disgraced former governor: ROD BLAGOJEVICH!

I wasn't 100% sure at first, until, that is, after I pulled to the side of the street, and he issued me a curious sidelong glance almost exactly like the one featured above (I love these murals, some guy has been putting up all over Chicago in the last year).

What surprises me even more is that I haven't spotted him yet. His personal residence is in the 'hood near mine, and 2 months ago I went on a bike ride with the intention of finding his house (not sure if I did or not - I was looking for a cadre of black security SUV's, but maybe he no longer enjoys that benefit).

Regardless...I got pictures! Albeit, crappy cell pictures I snapped while steering with my knee. But it's totally him. See that grainy figure dressed in black below? I think he was running away from yours truly. Or just jogging. Whatever.

Below is his left foot/sneaker.

I thought about rolling down the car window and shouting something obscene, but even I'm not that much of an asshole. Plus, even a disgraced former politician deserves to exercise in peace, right? I think he does. Although blogging about him jogging is totally OK.

CAR + MOTORCYCLE = ARIEL ATOM

Yesterday I was filling the tiny tank of my car and I started thinking about how insane gas prices are. This week a report was released that declared the most expensive gasoline in the US was sold right here in Chicago, averaging north of $4 a gallon.

Though my car specifies premium fuel I compromise and use mid-grade which means that to fill 3/4 of my tank costs about $42.00 - money that could be better spent on clothes, booze or concert tickets. But I digress.

This got me thinking about different transportation alternatives. My lease is up in 12 months and I've been pondering it's eventual replacement. I could go the hybrid route and opt for a Prius, or perhaps purchase an economical diesel, such as a VW Golf TDI.

But frankly, I'd rather die than drive a jelly bean shaped hybrid or another VW (I've had 2 thus far, and although I liked both, the new ones are overweight, overpriced and over-ugly).

So what then? A motorcycle is an interesting alternative, one that would use little gasoline and would afford me the speed which I have become accustomed to. Problem is, bikes scare the living shit out of me, especially driving in Chicago traffic.

What I've found is in my mind the perfect "hybrid". A vehicle with 4 wheels with the speed and efficiency of a motorbike...ladies and gentlemen, behold, the mighty ARIEL ATOM!

Powered by a Honda KOA2 engine of which I have become familiar (the same mill found in my current ride), supercharged it so it develops 300HP and bolt it to a chassis that doubles as an exoskeleton weighing a total of 1,400LB, and you have a whip capable of going rocketing you to 60MPH in 2.9 seconds. Gah-Damn!

The only car faster is the mighty (and insanely expensive) Bugatti Veyron. For about E43,000 (as in Euro) you can obtain a fuel slipping time machine that may lack doors, windows or a roof, but will instill fear in anything you are likely to encounter on a public roadway.

Of course getting valid plates can be an issue, but nothing this AWESOME should come easy. Some production bikes may be faster in a straight-away, but the most fun one can have on four wheels comes when one defies physics and can pull mad G's in turns.

Need proof? Watch this video of Top Gear's Jeremy Clarkson at the 3 minute mark when his face is literally peeled back from the rush provided courtesy of the Atom. This thing is fucking SICK!

BRABUS BULLIT BLACK ARROW

As a friend and I wandered around Cobo Hall in January during the Detroit Auto Show, we were discussing the current "horsepower" war being waged among the German car makers.

Sure, Germany's automakers are making various attempts at "green" vehicles, but let's be serious folks, what the Germans truly excel at, is making insanely fast sedans.

Case in point, the current Mercedes Benz's AMG performance arm stuffed 6.2 liter V-8 into the nose of a C-Class sedan (which is roughly the size of Honda Civic). It produces a prodigious 451 horsepower and 443 pound-feet of torque and sprints from 0-60MPH in 4.5 seconds. Pretty damn fast by any measure.

Well, for those of you that crave a little more "go", the German tuning company Brabus recently introduced it's take on a high performance C-Class sedan, and more or less bitch slapped their AMG counterparts in the process. This week, at the Geneva Auto Show, they pulled the sheet off their craziest model yet...the mighty Brabus Bullit Black Arrow....

How does this sound: take a 5.5 liter V-12, bore and stroke it out to 6.3 liters and strap not 1, but 2 turbos to it? Is that something you might be interested in? Oh, and did we mention it's dripping with matte finish black paint?

FUCK and YES.

The only logical reason that I can think for the existence of this car is a coke-and-stripper-fueled party took place in a seedy Stuttgart hotel room that lasted 3 days too long (also, I think Rammstein may have been present, just a guess).

That Heart of Darkness is capable of producing a "are-they-fucking-serious" 730 HP and a "holy-shit-they-are" 974 LB FT of torque. It'll run 0-60 MPH in 3.9 seconds and top out at 225 MPH (360 KM/H). There is a safety mechanism in the form of a switch that reduces the output of torque to "only" 811 LB FT, presumably so you don't incinerate the tires.

On the inside, anything not covered in leather, is covered in carbon fiber, and anything else that remains is covered in Alcantara (it's like suede, but more durable).

I'll admit it, I am not man enough to drive this car. Even tapping the accelerator is likely to produce an unintended burnout, the likes of which would invariably frighten men, woman and children alike.

Still, I want one! NOW! PLEASE! Unfortunately, it's slightly out of my price range: E348,000, or around $690,000. For something capable of hurtling you to 186 MPH in 24.5 seconds, it almost seems like a bargain.

Mental note to self: Go THE GENEVA MOTOR SHOW in 2009!

MY FATHER IS MOVING TO NYC

“One belongs to New York instantly, one belongs to it as much in five minutes as in five years”
-Thomas Wolfe

Last Sunday I met my father a bar for lunch and to watch the Cubs game. While waiting for our food to arrive (which was a ridiculous wait, I might add...how in the hell can it take an hour to cook some fucking burgers?) my father turns to me and says:

Father: "So, this may come as a bit of a shock to you, but I've decided to move to New York City".
Me: (almost spits out mouthful of beer) "Uh...well, yeah, it is actually. When are you leaving?"
Father: "At the end of September"
Me: (reaching for my cigarettes now) "What? That's like, in 3 weeks!"
Father: "I know it may seem sudden, but it's something I really want to do and the time just feels right to go now"
Me: "Well, if that's the way you feel...I'm excited for you"

Honestly I'm not totally surprised, I mean, it's not like he's moving to Berlin, and he has been visiting the Big Apple on a regular basis for the last few years. In fact, after I thought about it, his decision seems entirely logical due to the fact that he has a far larger social circle there than he does here in Chicago.

A little history: my parents divorced back in 1994 (wow, I can't believe it's been that long) and in the time since my Mother moved to Arizona (boo, I still hate that fucking state, no offense to any readers that live there, but the desert just isn't my thing) and got married again, to a very nice man, I might add (my stepfather and I get along great).

But my Father never did remarry, and as far as I can tell never really dated either. She basically broke his heart and it took him a long time to pick himself back up and move on his life. I thought it was a huge step for him to sell his spacious home in the suburbs and move to the city a few years back, but this is a far greater change.

But it's a necessary one in that I can tell that he is not entirely happy right now, and he also seems lonely. Therefore, it's seems logical for him to go where his friends are, where he can go out and be social and do the cultural things he loves to do (not like he can't do them here, but I digress).

I'll be honest, it will be sad to see him go. Over the years our relationship has dramatically changed in that during my high school years we were often at odds, but since my Mother moved to Arizona right before my Senior year of high school (nice timing...) and I moved in with him, we started to grow closer and repair our relationship, often in very subtle ways.

We are closer now than we have ever been, in fact, I think of him more of a buddy than a staid, traditional Father. I act no different around him than I do in front of my friends (with the exception of pointing out hot guys, haha) and we hang out at least once, if not twice a week. But it hurts to see my buddies, or any more of my family leave this city.

After my Father moves, it's down to my brother and I. There are other extended members of my family, but none that I care to associate with, for various reasons. I'm thinking this will strengthen my bond to my brother, which is a good thing, although right now we are really tight.

And in the end, it's not about me. It's about my Father needing to do what's best for himself. It's just that, I feel like we are at a tipping point in our relationship, in that the responsibility of taking care of one another has shifted towards me. Maybe I'm just getting older, and/or more mature.

As for me, I'm actually looking forward to getting to know more of New York City. I've only been there once, way back in the early 90's so the city is almost a mystery to me. I've already decided that I won't like it more than Chicago (for better or worse, this city is, and always will be where I call home, even if one day I move elsewhere).

But I will do my best to keep and open mind. After all these years of taking shit about NYC, it's time to view the city with new eyes. At the very least it will be a new experience, and I know I have a solid place to crash in another of the world's greatest cities. And that's a good thing.

And seriously, how bad-ass is it for a man in his late 50's to finally follow through on a life long dream to live somewhere he always wanted to live? Not many people get that chance, or have the fortitude to do so. Perhaps I'm biased, but I think that is remarkable, although not too surprising since my Father is awesome like that.

For the time being, I intend to spend as much time as possible with my Father. We were supposed to have lunch together tomorrow, but fate had other plans in mind. Just this afternoon, my brother's friend offered him a pair of tickets to tomorrow's Cubs game, which he offered to me. I figure after all these years it's only right that it's my turn to take my Father to a game...the final home game of the regular season! I'm stoked.

MY BIG GAY WEEKEND (FINALLY)

Last weekend's sexual conquest shared many elements with some of my other experiences from this summer, specifically beer, shooting pool, lesbians and the "Are you gay?" question. Of course there are always other, unique and defining elements. With the Columbian Architect, it was his sexy accent. With Crew Guy it was his Crew Uni that he modeled for me (that was so fucking hot). With JT-Lite it was his beard and cute hairy chest. And with the Puerto Rican Construction worker from last weekend, it was his cornrows.

Market Days really wasn't all that. On Saturday afternoon I braved the staggering heat and made my way down to Boystown. Market Days, for those not in the know, is a weekend towards the end of the Summer when the city ropes off a six block corridor of Boystown and let's the Gays go wild, which they certainly did last weekend. Immediatly upon entering the festival I noted a multitude of drunk, shirtless and sweaty men. It's almost like the interior of a gay dance club, but outside in the sun.

My intention was to meet my favorite lesbian couple and their friends, and to meet up with a few other friends. The place was packed shoulder to shoulder around each of the six stages, which made it difficult to find anyone. Finally I found Dee and his friend and I suggested we hit up a bar to escape the heat (it was really HOT) and since we were standing in front of Sidetrack we went there. We flashed our ID's and walked into a bar that was even more crowded than the street.

We ended up on the rooftop deck (which was probably even hotter than the street below) and sat down in the shade. Initially my senses were in overdrive. There were hotties EVERYWHERE and I noted how every guy seemed to have wide, hungry looking eyes. It was like being on a safari, but with gay men substituted for animals. We started talking to bunch of guys, one of whom I found very much to my liking, a really tall frat boy/gay guy hybrid of a man with piercing blue eyes.

But the heat, coupled with the fact that he was coupled precluded anything serious, and we made our way downstairs to cool off in the A/C. Have I ever blogged about my strong dislike of show tunes? Fuck, they drive my crazy and in the main bar area they were blaring them and most of the guys were shouting the lyrics back at the televisions. We circled the packed bar in another room (this place is huge) which was kinda fun because rather than saying excuse me when bumping into someone, the standard response was "heeey cutie" or something to that effect.

Eventually we left to meet my awesome cool lesbian friends and walked around in the sticky humidity and the drunk crowds of guys. The music emanating from the stages was not really my thing and eventually, after an hour or so we all decided to take off and find a less crowded bar. My new friend CP (sup' dude!) and I got separated from everyone else but we went to bar anyways, sat down (man that felt good) and ordered beers. Eventually everyone else found their way there too, but CP had to go (no worries man!).

While chatting with my friends at the bar I noticed an odd sight: a tall, Latino with almost gold skin, a goatee and long cornrows wearing baggy jeans and a huge t-shirt. Normally this is not my type but this guy was smokin' hot. I turned to my friend and asked her is this guy was really hot or if I might be suffering from heat stroke. Thankfully it was the former rather than the latter. Since I was NOT looking I returned my attention to the TV and conversation with friends.

At one point I got up to use the bathroom and when I walked back to the bar the guy with the Cornrows locked eyes with me and approached me when I was near the pool tables.

Hot Guy: "Hey man"
Me: "Hey, what's up?"
Hot Guy: "You wanna shoot a game of stick?"
Me: (can't believe my luck) "Sure, uh, let me, uh, get some quarters"

He racked and I grabbed a stick, he told me to break and I did, a nice, solid pop of a shoot but nothing dropped. We agreed to play for a beer, and got to talking. He was seemed like a really cool guy and not at all what I thought he would be like when I first saw him. In the middle of the game, a guy in his 40's wearing short, short cut off jeans shorts announced he was going to play the winner. Despite my best efforts, I lost.

Hot Guy: "Nice game man"
Me: "you too, whatcha drinkin'?"
Hot Guy: "whatever, I don't care"

I figured most people like Heineken, bought one, handed it to him and let him play Jean Cut Off Man. Sitting back down with my friends I thought nothing of what just happened. Although we were in a gay bar, he certainly did not seem gay, and since I was NOT looking I let it be. About 15 minutes later Hot Guy taps on my shoulder and asks if I want to play again. I didn't want to be rude to my friends but they said it was cool.

We played 3 more games, 2 of which I won (yay! free beer). I noticed Jean Cut Off Man was glaring at me, arms crossed from across the room. When I said this to Marco (we finally formally introduced ourselves) and he told me that Jean Cut Off Man was trying to get him to come home with him and kept telling him that he had a 9 inch cock. Marco said he would never go home with a guy like that. This prompted the following conversation:

Marco: "Hey man, can I ask you something?"
Me: "sure, what's up?"
Marco: "are you, like, into guys?"
Me: "Yeah, I'm gay"
Marco: "oh, because, like I couldn't..."
Me: "Yeah, no worries man, this isn't the first time someone has asked me that...what about you? Are you gay?"
Marco: (pause that seemed to go on for too long) "I'd say I'm 75% into woman and 25% into guys"

Of course. We talked more, had another round and then he asked me:

Marco: "hey, you wanna go back to your place?"
Me: (no fucking way) "Uh, well, we could, uh...do that I guess"
Marco: "cool, let's get out of here"
Me: "one minute, I gotta talk to my friends"

I sought the consul of my friends and they just told me to be safe and not be too much of a slut. They told me to call them if they needed me and I promised to.

Moments later I found myself walking towards the train stop with this fucking stud. I repeated the following mantra in my head "I will not get my fuck on I will not get my fuck on".

On the train he asked me if I had ever fucked a girl before and when I said no the look on his face was priceless.

Marco: "You never fucked a girl?"
Me: "Nope, never"
Marco: "than how do you know if you're not straight"
Me: "dude, I just know, I never wanted to fuck a girl"
Marco: "well, maybe we should pick up a hot girl and have a threesome"
Me: (momentarily speech) "...um, that's OK, I think I'll stick with guys for now..."

I wondered what my neighbors would think if I ran into any of them then decided not too worry since the only opinion that truly matters is mine. About this time I thought that if we did hook up with was going to be a one time thing since I'm not about to date a guy that clearly was more into woman than guys. Whatever. We picked up some beer at the corner store and went to my place.

I couldn't believe this guy was in my place. What is this stud doing here? I showed him around and we decided to watch a movie. He picked "The Bourne Ultimatum" and we sat down on my comfy couch. During the movie we leaned into one another and briefly kissed but then he pulled away and said he doesn't like kissing guys, so I settled on his neck, and he voiced his pleasure. I laid back and returned y attention to the movie and I noticed he reached in his jeans and adjusted himself. Damn.

Not quite sure how but we ended up back in my room and quickly got undressed. Now I know what you might be thinking, but we didn't fuck. Yet. After some fun he announced he was hungry and walked into the kitchen, stark naked. I followed behind and drooled at the site of his awesome body. When he told me earlier in the night that he worked in construction I wondered what he looked like without his baggy clothes on. Well, now I knew and it was enough to make my heart beat faster.

After he ate a microwaved burrito w drank more beer, had cig and then my phone rang; it was my brother's girlfriend. While I was talking to her Marco grinned and came around behind me and started rubbing his cock against my backside. Needless to say, I sounded like Peter Brady to my brother's girlfriend.

We ended up back in my and were kissing each other all over (his pecs were so hot!) when I made the mistake of touching his hair.

Marco: "Don't touch the rows man"
Me: "shit, sorry about that" (like I knew!)
Marco: "shit cost $50 to get braided"
Me: "really?"

More kissing ensued. After applying some lube I chucked the bottle on the floor but realized we used to much, as it was a bitch and a half putting a condom on. I went through 3 before we got it all good and I went to town. So much for my mantra.

We woke up around 11AM and took showers. I needed to get going to meet my brother and his girlfriend and my dad for brunch. Since he had lost his phone earlier last night before we met, I wrote down my number and told him to call if he felt like it. I didn't think he would, but you never know right?

Around 7:30PM he called. I picked him up and we came back to my place, drank beer and watched "The Departed". Great flick. Even better was when he would get all excited at the action scenes. I laid down and rested my feet in his lap and he rubbed them, and then his other hand would disappear inside his jeans. Damn!

We fooled around a bit afterwards but nothing major (no oral/anal) and feel asleep. It had been a long weekend and we were tired and I had had enough fun. Or so I thought. Around 4AM I o and lightly rubbed those x pecs which caused him to stir. He opened his eyes and said:

Marco: "Fuck me"
Me: "Huh?"
Marco: "Fuck me right now"
Me: (squinting at the clock) "It's 4AM"
Marco: "Put it in me, right now"

Who was I to say no?

With that he grabbed me and I my manhood went from zero to 60 in 20 seconds flat (OK, maybe not that fast, but it seemed like it). I fumbled around for a condom and soon after obeyed his orders. Goddamn. We fell back asleep but the alarm went off way too soon. While he was getting ready I was reading the news, which is when I discovered that Karl Rove announced he was going to resign. Fuck. Me. How awesome!

Well, that might have been the longest post I ever wrote. I know it might seem like bullshit or some wild fantasy I concocted in my head but really, I'm not that creative. I'm as surprised as anyone. I doubt I'll ever see Marco again since he mentioned he is moving to Florida soon. But that's OK. Last weekend was almost too much to deal with on a regular basis and while he's great, I don't think he's boyfriend material.

I swear I'm not always this much of a whore. I blame it all on the heat...

SIX OR ONE HALF DOZEN

I'm not sure what was better...getting laid last night or waking up to find out that Karl Rove is resigning at the end of the month. Having both occur within the space of a few hours is nothing short of mind blowing. This entire weekend was nearly too much for my little mind to process. I'll post more when I can actually form complete sentences...

Thank you everyone for the kind words in regards to JT's shittyness...