"Now We Are Laughing"

Cast of characters: Kos, me, Chelsey, Alfonso, Katie, Alex


Last weekend in Chicago was, to put it simply, a shitshow. I can't remember the last time I laughed so much, and yet much of the weekend is not conducive to story-telling. Almost everything was either an inside joke, or something ordinary that became an inside joke. Some highlights:

- Before the Cubs game, Kos and I were on the walkway behind the bleacher seats, enjoying some tobacco in various forms, and some shirtless meathead came over and started a conversation that lasted approximately three minutes, during which he said "dude" around 15 times and "bro" probably 50 or 60 times, no exaggeration. Finally he walked away (after toasting PBR's with us by saying "Bro, yeah bro! Cheers, bro!") and as soon as he was out of earshot I said to Kos "That's why I make fun of people who say 'bro' so much, that guy right there." To which he replied without a missing a beat, "Yeah that guy was a fuckin' idiot, bro."

- After the Cubs game, we were at a bar near the stadium, and some really weird-looking dude in a cowboy hat starting hitting on Alex. Now, whereas some boyfriends would get jealous, or at the very least tell the dude to leave her alone, I prefer to sit back and see how she handles herself in these situations. Kind of a Laissez-faire strategy, to the people who paid attention in middle school U.S. History class. Anyways, he ended up grabbing her ass, and eventually giving her his number, which was on a tiny red card (it looked like he was handing her a raffle ticket he bought from a little league baseball fundraiser or something) which had his name, phone number, and email address on it. Sadly, we didn't get a picture of him and all his weird glory. So if you want to mess with a random stranger, his email address is No.damn.good@hotmail.com. No, fo' reals. That's his email address.

- When we got into our cab at the end of that night, Kos jumped in the front seat and had this exchange with the cabbie:

"You got any tuneage?"

"Well, I've got Rush..."

"Sweet. Let's rock it."

And Kos proceeded to turn the stereo in the minvan up to 11. I was in the way way back, grinning from ear to ear and rocking some air guitar (I love Rush.) Chelsey, Alex, and Katie were all curling into the fetal position and trying to shield their eardrums from the ear-splitting combination of Geddy Lee lead vocals and Neil Peart drum solos, and Alfonso (who hates Rush with the burning passion of a million suns) was screaming at me "This is my personal hell!!! I will NEVER forgive you for this!" Why he didn't yell at Kos (who was calmly sitting in the front seat with a cigarette hanging out the window) and/or the cab driver is beyond me, but either way it was one hell of a cab ride.

- And then Saturday.....well, Saturday can be summed up in two words: Wizard Sticks. It rained pretty much all day and night on our nation's holiday, so we basically just woke up, ate some breakfast, and started drinking. Just one of those old-fashioned, clock-in-and-go-to-work drinking days. With a twist: we were building wizard sticks, which basically means you just duct tape your new beer on top of your empties, and continue drinking like that. Which is fine until around beer #9, when the slight inconveniences begin occurring. Then around the #14 mark, it becomes a little bit of a process to take a drink of beer. At #18, you can't drink without assistance. What would otherwise be a rainy July 4th with no fireworks becomes an event. Needless to say, I highly, HIGHLY recommend it.

Wizard sticks in picture form:


Alfonso, me, Kos, Mike. Early in the afternoon, when our sticks were still at a manageable length. (Side note: drinking with wizard sticks all day opens the door for around 700 "That's what she said" jokes. Trust us, we were there.)


The girls, NOT drinking out of wizard sticks. Why do you hate America?

I am no longer capable of managing my own stick. That's what she said. I also ran out of Bud Light, and had to switch to Alfonso's Grain Belt. It made for a more colorful wizard stick, and once combined with the chocolate cake I inhaled late at night, made for a colorful fireworks show out of my mouth.

The cover for Spike Lee's new documentary "Alfonso Doin' Work"

So many good things about this picture, including Kos' corduroy pants that he wore for like 54 hours straight.

So as fun as the weekend was, it took a lot out of me. I am now officially in detox for a couple weeks. Big ups to our wonderful hosts.