Monday, June 19, 2006

Tell Me Why...

...I don't like Mondays. I want to shoot the whole day down.

God damn, I'm getting old. When I was in my twenties, I could work all day at one job, tend bar at night, drink until 6AM, sleep for an hour and then get up and do it all over again the next day, all without feeling like I'd been hit by a truck. I could party like the rock star I was, then crash just one day a week and never be the worse for wear. Now, though, as the early-thirties cruelly introduce themselves to me, I find it usually takes me far longer to recover from any type of fun I endeavour to have. This weekend was no exception. Bugger.

Friday night was spent recovering from the Thursday night's festivities (thanks, BF & Mona). The BF & I went to Billy Goat's for dinner (Cheezeborger! Cheezeborger!), saw the new X-Men movie (nowhere near as good as the first two) and then went to bed early.

On Saturday, we got up and went to breakfast, and then headed straight to a bar to watch the US/Italy World Cup game. While there, the BF & I invited a few strangers to sit at our table since we had plenty of room and there was a serious lack of seating. As it turns out, they were a great deal of fun, AND had an extra ticket to the Cubs game, to which they invited the BF to join them while I was stuck schlepping booze at the bar.

The weather was beautiful, so even though the Cubs lost (there's a shocker), the bar was totally packed after the game. To say I got my ass handed to me would be an understatement, however, it was a lot of fun, and I made a shitload of cash. Plus, I got the BF and our new friends totally wasted, so it was a very good night indeed.

On Sunday we drove out to the burbs for the very first meeting of the BF and my parents, and I thought it went quite well. I'm pretty sure we haven't scared him off completely. All the boys drank beer and watched soccer, and bonded over the "Girls of the World Cup" issue of Playboy magazine (which, BTW, is addressed to MY MOTHER...very weird.). We gorged ourselves on everything from kebabs to brownie pie, and laughed our asses off at the dinner table. Special thanks to Nona for telling us about scraping the dead frog off the driveway. I think I'm still gagging.

All in all, it was a fun weekend, though I'm wiped out from it and will need another night to fully recover. Getting old really sucks sometimes. And now, some random shit inspired by the events of the weekend...

Anyone who drives a Hummer in a big city (where parking is near impossible and the cost of gas is over $3.25 per gallon) is a fucking idiot, and NO ONE will convince me otherwise.

I don't know how I haven't noticed this before, but HOLY CRAP are there a ton of transvestites on the corner of Belmont and Sheffield at 4 o'clock on a Sunday morning. Where do they all come from? Boystown is a few blocks in the other direction.

Can someone please tell me how much longer this Dan Ryan expressway construction is going to last? There is absolutely NO reason why it should take me an hour and a half to get to my parents' house on a SUNDAY afternoon.

Is it just me, or are the Italians the biggest pussies in the World Cup? Get off the ground, you big baby, and quit your complaining.

OH! One more question in reference to soccer. What the hell is that canned stuff they were spraying on the players' asses (down the back of their shorts) after they fell down?

Have a good day, everyone.

Love, Trixie


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