Thursday, July 20, 2006
The Times Are a-Changin’ (But Are WE?)
This weekend was the annual Guys Weekend with my friends. Basically, we all go up to Door County, WI to get righteously drunk and play all sorts of lawn games. One of my friends has a pretty sweet “compound” in his family right on Lake Michigan. It has a pool and a tennis court. It’s in the middle of the woods and pretty secluded. Whenever I’m up there, I feel like someone worked very hard to let me sit on my ass and get drunk all weekend. And I’m ever-so thankful.
What I like about Guys Weekend is that I can hang out with my friends like we used to do back in the day. By “back in the day,” I’m clearly referring to the time before any of us were lucky enough to be married/dating. You know, the ugly awkward years. Unfortunately for me, those years started at age 5 and continued until the day I got married. Note, I didn’t lose my ugliness or awkwardness. I just found someone who could accept those traits in me. Presumably, this was because when we met, I had a good job and made a lot of money. Since then, I got laid off, wasted all my money, married her, went to grad school, and wasted all of HER money. Life is good sometimes.
(By the way, major kudos to The Wife for letting me go on the Guys Weekend. It can’t be easy letting your husband abandon you for 3 days with a 17-month-old child. But not only did she let me go, she actually encouraged me to go. In fact, she told me I could stay up there a week. Or even a month. And to my surprise, when I returned home, I found that she had changed all the locks. That wife and her practical jokes!)
Anyway, I could make this into another 3000-word entry focusing on our exploits for the weekend. Hell, I could probably do 2000 words alone on the logistical nightmare that was the Party Van. But instead, I’d like to focus on one short conversation we had. The question posed was: do people change?
I’m firmly in the “Yes” camp. (I think everyone else polled was in the “No” camp. Well, I have some bad news for them. They’re wrong. People change all the time.) And I’m not talking about born-again Christians or alcoholics or any of those other wonderful people that always manage to corner me at parties. I’m actually talking about myself. I’ve changed quite a bit.
You see, when I was younger, all I cared about was drinking and partying with my friends. But now I’m married. I have a young child. I have more in my life, and it’s more fulfilling. And that’s why all I can think about now is how I can ditch my wife and child so I can go out drinking and partying with my friends. Okay, that’s not entirely true.
The way I’ve changed is that I’ve become both a dad and My Dad. I never thought the former would happen and I prayed as hard as hell that the latter wouldn’t. Not that My Dad was a bad guy or anything. He was just old. And grown up. And responsible. He woke up early. And he got angry when we left our toys all over the house and our rooms were messy.
And I’ve discovered that I’m much the same way. (The Wife and my mother could point out other ways I’m similar, including the incredibly slow way I do things around the house. But screw them! This is MY blog!) It didn’t happen overnight either. It was a slow process, but it really got kick-started once Luke was born. At the time, I was still partying with my friends, staying out late, not worrying about much. Then all of a sudden, Luke started crawling. Uh-oh. Once he got mobile, I suddenly started having to pay attention to him.
Once I started working, too, I found that my sleep schedule completely changed. I’ve been waking up every day before 6:00 am. That’s not easy for me. I like staying up as late as possible and sleeping as late as possible. (Ironically, I hate going to sleep, but once I am asleep, I hate waking up.) And now that I’m on a rather rigid sleep schedule, I’ve found that it’s hard on me (physically) to get out of it. (I’ve also found that I generally feel better. Despite what all the doctors have been telling me for years, I think you really ARE supposed to get a good night’s sleep EVERY night. And staying up 24 hours in a row, getting drunk, and then sleeping for 12 hours just isn’t “healthy.”)
The other thing that’s changed about me is that I’ve really cut back on my drinking. I used to party hard every weekend. Now I’m lucky if I even get around to “partying” once a month, let alone doing it “hard.” (Yes, you sicko, there’s a sex joke in there somewhere. Go find it. And grow up. I’m so disgusted with you. Please stop reading my blog. You’re giving it a bad name.)
The bad thing about cutting back on my drinking is that it’s having rather negative physical side effects. For one thing, I’m not losing weight. I thought beer was supposed to give you a beer gut. Well, mission accomplished there. But shouldn’t a lack of beer reduce the beer gut? And don’t tell me that just because I’ve substituted beer for Jack and Coke, my beer gut shouldn’t go away. Actually, I haven’t even been drinking that much Jack. I think the cookies and ice cream have been quite detrimental. (By the way, how great is it being married? I come home from a long day of work and find that The Wife has made a batch of cookies because she’s “bored.” I think she’s trying to fatten me up. “Oh, you quit drinking. You’re running. You think you’re going to get skinny. Well, I’ll show you, Mr. Fitness!”)
Another physical side effect is that my body just can’t tolerate alcohol the way it used to. Not only can I not drink as much, but I really feel the side effects the next day(s). Not being able to drink as much is a serious problem because I still haven’t learned to drink slower. I’m still pounding beers and doing shots, only now I’m passing out at 8:00. And that’s when I start drinking at 7:30.
The lingering effects of drinking are what kill me now. I used to never get hangovers in college. I didn’t even understand them. Now, I get super-hangovers. It’s not so much that I have a headache. Instead, I have a tremendous body ache. And I have no desire to do ANYTHING. I’ll be completely dehydrated but too lazy to walk 10 feet to the fridge to get something to drink. Believe it or not, this has actually caused me to change. The side effects of drinking have started to outweigh the benefits. But since I still don’t know how to socialize in public without drinking, I’ve decided to stop appearing in public.
Anyway, my point is that I seriously have changed quite a bit in the past five years. Life for me is no longer about going out and getting as pissed as possible. I’m married, I have a child, I live in the suburbs. Life, for me, is about trying to find strip clubs with no cover charges.
What I like about Guys Weekend is that I can hang out with my friends like we used to do back in the day. By “back in the day,” I’m clearly referring to the time before any of us were lucky enough to be married/dating. You know, the ugly awkward years. Unfortunately for me, those years started at age 5 and continued until the day I got married. Note, I didn’t lose my ugliness or awkwardness. I just found someone who could accept those traits in me. Presumably, this was because when we met, I had a good job and made a lot of money. Since then, I got laid off, wasted all my money, married her, went to grad school, and wasted all of HER money. Life is good sometimes.
(By the way, major kudos to The Wife for letting me go on the Guys Weekend. It can’t be easy letting your husband abandon you for 3 days with a 17-month-old child. But not only did she let me go, she actually encouraged me to go. In fact, she told me I could stay up there a week. Or even a month. And to my surprise, when I returned home, I found that she had changed all the locks. That wife and her practical jokes!)
Anyway, I could make this into another 3000-word entry focusing on our exploits for the weekend. Hell, I could probably do 2000 words alone on the logistical nightmare that was the Party Van. But instead, I’d like to focus on one short conversation we had. The question posed was: do people change?
I’m firmly in the “Yes” camp. (I think everyone else polled was in the “No” camp. Well, I have some bad news for them. They’re wrong. People change all the time.) And I’m not talking about born-again Christians or alcoholics or any of those other wonderful people that always manage to corner me at parties. I’m actually talking about myself. I’ve changed quite a bit.
You see, when I was younger, all I cared about was drinking and partying with my friends. But now I’m married. I have a young child. I have more in my life, and it’s more fulfilling. And that’s why all I can think about now is how I can ditch my wife and child so I can go out drinking and partying with my friends. Okay, that’s not entirely true.
The way I’ve changed is that I’ve become both a dad and My Dad. I never thought the former would happen and I prayed as hard as hell that the latter wouldn’t. Not that My Dad was a bad guy or anything. He was just old. And grown up. And responsible. He woke up early. And he got angry when we left our toys all over the house and our rooms were messy.
And I’ve discovered that I’m much the same way. (The Wife and my mother could point out other ways I’m similar, including the incredibly slow way I do things around the house. But screw them! This is MY blog!) It didn’t happen overnight either. It was a slow process, but it really got kick-started once Luke was born. At the time, I was still partying with my friends, staying out late, not worrying about much. Then all of a sudden, Luke started crawling. Uh-oh. Once he got mobile, I suddenly started having to pay attention to him.
Once I started working, too, I found that my sleep schedule completely changed. I’ve been waking up every day before 6:00 am. That’s not easy for me. I like staying up as late as possible and sleeping as late as possible. (Ironically, I hate going to sleep, but once I am asleep, I hate waking up.) And now that I’m on a rather rigid sleep schedule, I’ve found that it’s hard on me (physically) to get out of it. (I’ve also found that I generally feel better. Despite what all the doctors have been telling me for years, I think you really ARE supposed to get a good night’s sleep EVERY night. And staying up 24 hours in a row, getting drunk, and then sleeping for 12 hours just isn’t “healthy.”)
The other thing that’s changed about me is that I’ve really cut back on my drinking. I used to party hard every weekend. Now I’m lucky if I even get around to “partying” once a month, let alone doing it “hard.” (Yes, you sicko, there’s a sex joke in there somewhere. Go find it. And grow up. I’m so disgusted with you. Please stop reading my blog. You’re giving it a bad name.)
The bad thing about cutting back on my drinking is that it’s having rather negative physical side effects. For one thing, I’m not losing weight. I thought beer was supposed to give you a beer gut. Well, mission accomplished there. But shouldn’t a lack of beer reduce the beer gut? And don’t tell me that just because I’ve substituted beer for Jack and Coke, my beer gut shouldn’t go away. Actually, I haven’t even been drinking that much Jack. I think the cookies and ice cream have been quite detrimental. (By the way, how great is it being married? I come home from a long day of work and find that The Wife has made a batch of cookies because she’s “bored.” I think she’s trying to fatten me up. “Oh, you quit drinking. You’re running. You think you’re going to get skinny. Well, I’ll show you, Mr. Fitness!”)
Another physical side effect is that my body just can’t tolerate alcohol the way it used to. Not only can I not drink as much, but I really feel the side effects the next day(s). Not being able to drink as much is a serious problem because I still haven’t learned to drink slower. I’m still pounding beers and doing shots, only now I’m passing out at 8:00. And that’s when I start drinking at 7:30.
The lingering effects of drinking are what kill me now. I used to never get hangovers in college. I didn’t even understand them. Now, I get super-hangovers. It’s not so much that I have a headache. Instead, I have a tremendous body ache. And I have no desire to do ANYTHING. I’ll be completely dehydrated but too lazy to walk 10 feet to the fridge to get something to drink. Believe it or not, this has actually caused me to change. The side effects of drinking have started to outweigh the benefits. But since I still don’t know how to socialize in public without drinking, I’ve decided to stop appearing in public.
Anyway, my point is that I seriously have changed quite a bit in the past five years. Life for me is no longer about going out and getting as pissed as possible. I’m married, I have a child, I live in the suburbs. Life, for me, is about trying to find strip clubs with no cover charges.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
People of the Train
I’ve been working downtown for approximately 2 months now. And I’ve discovered that there’s a whole different breed of idiots who ride the train. I like to call them People of the Train, or POT-heads. (I know, I’m recognizing the “O” of “of” but not the “T” of “the.” It’s my acronym. Get your own blog and come up with your own acronyms! I promise I won’t say a word about them. Jerk.)
Before discussing the idiocy of the POT-heads, I should probably state that most people who ride the train are normal. Well, as normal as the average person can be. It’s probably safe to assume that they’re idiots too. But I have no proof (yet). So I’m going to assume they’re not idiots for the sake of this blog.
The POT-heads, on the other hand, are raging morons. Let me tell you a story about the POT-head who sat next to me this morning. (He was the inspiration for this entry, of course.)
To set this up correctly, I have to describe the way the train’s laid out, in case you aren’t a Metra user. The train is set up with two rows of seats, each of which holds two people. (Of course, there’s a second deck with single seats, but I won’t bore you with that since I never sit up there. Wait. Didn’t I just bore you with that?) I usually take an express train, where my station is one of the last to pick up people. This means that I’m one of the last ones on the train. So, when I get on, the only seats available are aisle seats, which is where I sit. (Boy, I really chose a wordy way to tell you that I sit in an aisle seat. What the hell’s the matter with me? I need a writing class or something. Or maybe just an editor.)
Almost everyone on the train is going to the same place: downtown Chicago. For some reason, there are people who are in HUGE hurries to get off the train in the morning. So they start queueing up in a line that stretches from the doors all the way down the aisle. I certainly understand the desire to get to work quickly. I walk as fast as possible because the sooner I can get to work, the sooner I can get back home. (In theory, anyway. In reality, it just means more time surfing the net.)
The act of queueing up has diminished returns. For the first guy, it’s great. You’re the first one off the train, so you miss much of the crowd. You can just walk to work like you’re the only person in the city. For the second guy, it’s a little worse. You have to follow that first jerk. Once you get to fifth or sixth, there’s almost no advantage. Yet, people will gladly stand in line for 5 minutes so they can be 20th. And that’s exactly what the POT-head next to me today did.
What was supremely annoying about that was that he made me get up so he could queue up. He actually made me close my book, pick up my coffee and briefcase, and stand in the aisle so he could get up. Then he literally stood in line 2 feet away from me. He managed to get off the train a whopping 4 people (and 15 seconds) before me. I’m pretty sure this is why people aren’t allowed to carry guns. Because I would have shot that man for annoying me so much.
Before discussing the idiocy of the POT-heads, I should probably state that most people who ride the train are normal. Well, as normal as the average person can be. It’s probably safe to assume that they’re idiots too. But I have no proof (yet). So I’m going to assume they’re not idiots for the sake of this blog.
The POT-heads, on the other hand, are raging morons. Let me tell you a story about the POT-head who sat next to me this morning. (He was the inspiration for this entry, of course.)
To set this up correctly, I have to describe the way the train’s laid out, in case you aren’t a Metra user. The train is set up with two rows of seats, each of which holds two people. (Of course, there’s a second deck with single seats, but I won’t bore you with that since I never sit up there. Wait. Didn’t I just bore you with that?) I usually take an express train, where my station is one of the last to pick up people. This means that I’m one of the last ones on the train. So, when I get on, the only seats available are aisle seats, which is where I sit. (Boy, I really chose a wordy way to tell you that I sit in an aisle seat. What the hell’s the matter with me? I need a writing class or something. Or maybe just an editor.)
Almost everyone on the train is going to the same place: downtown Chicago. For some reason, there are people who are in HUGE hurries to get off the train in the morning. So they start queueing up in a line that stretches from the doors all the way down the aisle. I certainly understand the desire to get to work quickly. I walk as fast as possible because the sooner I can get to work, the sooner I can get back home. (In theory, anyway. In reality, it just means more time surfing the net.)
The act of queueing up has diminished returns. For the first guy, it’s great. You’re the first one off the train, so you miss much of the crowd. You can just walk to work like you’re the only person in the city. For the second guy, it’s a little worse. You have to follow that first jerk. Once you get to fifth or sixth, there’s almost no advantage. Yet, people will gladly stand in line for 5 minutes so they can be 20th. And that’s exactly what the POT-head next to me today did.
What was supremely annoying about that was that he made me get up so he could queue up. He actually made me close my book, pick up my coffee and briefcase, and stand in the aisle so he could get up. Then he literally stood in line 2 feet away from me. He managed to get off the train a whopping 4 people (and 15 seconds) before me. I’m pretty sure this is why people aren’t allowed to carry guns. Because I would have shot that man for annoying me so much.
