Beware: Drunken Posting

Ok, hope I at least got the HTML right, because there will surely be spelling errors.

I'm rather wasted right now, courtesy of Victor Limjoco, who was giving a going-away party for himself earlier this evening (as he is going to London for a quarter) at which I decided it would be a brilliant idea to drink (to the best of my current extremely foggy recollection):

- a cup of Sketchy Punch(TM) (aka Kool-Aid with Everclear)
- a gigantic Mudslide
- a Jell-o shot that was quite heavy on the vodka
- a Skyy Blue
- a Miller Lite
- a Bud Light

All of this within three hours. Or actually, more like two and a half. Kids, don't try this at home.

Especially my younger, more impresionable cousins, one of whom was visiting me and at least he reads this and should definitely not try this at home for he would die and his parents would kill me.

Why, you ask? Well, because alcohol lowers both your inhibitions and your ability to prevent yourself from making incredibly stupid statements.

Example: I told a friend of mine, who is in love with The Ex, to try and help me hook up with Irene, the Incredibly Hot Italian Chick I Really Really Like. The psychological ramifications of such an action are completely ignored when one is piss-drunk, though I'm sure will come back to make my life quite a bit more interesting in the future.

The sad thing about my drunkenness is that I'm generally drunk enough to be entirely unable to control the flow of words coming out of my mouth (or in this case, fingers) but juuuuuuust sober enough ot be unable to forget the truly dumbfuck things I have said over the course of the evening.

I occasionally wish I were one of those people who could honestly say "Gee, I don't remember saying that...," but then again, that'd be absolutely no fun.

So to any of the following: Irene, The Ex, The Friend In Love With The Ex, and any of the attendees of Victor's party whose feet I unintentionally stepped on while trying to drunkenly stumble to the bathroom, I offer my humblest apologies.

And to the rest of you: I'm sure the sober response to this post should be interesting tomorrow morning/afternoon, so stay tuned.

Annoyance

Ok, this is pissing me off.

I have a mosquito bite on my earlobe. It hurts and itches to all hell and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. The thing is, I usually get mosquito bites in pairs, so I'm just waiting for the second bump to show up in my ear canal or something.

AAAAARGH!

El delays, soft-core and cold medicine

Today was a really odd day.

It took me twice as long to get to work as it normally does because the subway on the red line is, for some reason, incapable of running when it rains really hard.

So the wonderful people of the Chicago Transit Authority rerouted all the red line trains onto the tracks that my train (the purple line) normally takes, pretty much doubling the number of cars on the track and causing a huge snarl.

I ended up being almost an hour late for work, since in addition to getting stuck, my train was 10 minutes late to begin with. And that was simply the beginning of the oddity.

One of the producers at work came in to try and get a bid from the guys I work for on this feature film that she's trying to bring to the company. In order to get a better idea of what type of audio work was expected of them, examples of the producer and director's previous films were provided.

Film #1 was called an "erotic thriller," which we all know means soft-core porn. And not just any soft-core porn, really bad soft-core porn.

It did at least attempt a plot, though that was preempted by a sex scene immediately following the opening credits. There was one point where we had a running bet on how long it would take before the next sex scene.

Well, we had a stopwatch, and it was pretty bad. What else were we gonna do?

Film #2 was essentially nu-blaxploitation. It was about these three guys trying to win a bet about who could bring the hottest chick to their high school reunion. It was bad, though not as bad as the soft-core.

I read a bit of the script of the movie that they're trying to get for postproduction, and from the script, it doesn't look as bad as the other two. But suffice it to say I'm glad I'll be back in school by the time the movie actually is ready for sound post.

That was the morning. I made the ill-advised move of taking some DayQuil after lunch, since I've been kind of stuffed up all week and I felt especially shitty this afternoon.

It tastes just as bad, if not worse, than NyQuil, with the serious disadvantage of not knocking you out immediately so that you don't notice the taste. It also, like most cold medicine, made me feel kind of dopey, which just made the rest of the day crawl by.

I got home and I crawled into bed, wondering if this day had actually happened, or if it was all just some kind of Robitussin-induced hallucination.

The fine art of navel-gazing

Nothing horribly important today, just an article I found on Obscure Store which purports to be about non-A-list weblogs, then proceeds to talk about the most popular weblogs for half the article.

At least it's different than most of the articles I've read about this wondrous little phenomenon in that it at least acknowledges that there are those of us who do this who don't sit around sniping at each other about politics.

Anyway, I'm off to bed. I'll try to post some more stuff tomorrow when I'm somewhat conscious.

And another thing...

Walking back from Blockbuster after the game, my cousin Mark and I passed three young men.

"Are those three guys tied together with caution tape?" I asked.

"Yup," replied my verbose cousin.

Just when you think you've seen everything, three guys tied together with caution tape walk down the opposite side of the street, and convince you that the world is even more nuts than you've been maintaining.

Go, U Northwestern...

Riding the El to the White Sox game tonight, I saw an ad for a study that Northwestern's Med school is doing on Crohn's disease and some form of colitis. The text included the following nugget:

"Over one million Americans suffer from theses symptoms."

Clearly, not written by Medilldos.

I live in Chicago.

Some days I am so glad I don't live at home anymore.

My mom, who has had quite a long fixation on one Mr. Elvis Aaron Presley, had a dinner the other night to mark the 25th anniversary of his passing.

Grace consisted of "Dear god...thankyaverymuch."

Dinner was stromboli, prepared by my cousin Victoria, whose brother is currently staying with me. That wasn't too Elvis-y, but the centerpiece was yet to come.

My mom baked a cake. Not just any cake. This was a cake fit for The King.

It had chocolate frosting, with a ring of vanilla around the outside. it had a bunch of edible glitter in the middle, making a record label, then my mom took the tines of a fork and made grooves. And then she put "Elvis- Love Me Tender" on the label. Hopefully not with a pen.

My friend Mark, who was subjected to all of this along with Victoria and her parents, said the cake itself was actually pretty cool. However, this is a man who has had to walk past a life-size cardboard cutout of Elvis every night to go to bed all summer this summer, and most of last summer.

So he has gotten used to this madness. I, on the other hand, am in Chicago, and don't have to deal with it.

At least not for another two weeks.