I am a bitch ass mark.

I feel bad for my brother who waited 2 hours yesterday in the cold to meet Rob Van Dam only to have the line cut off in front of him. This morning he waited in line for 2 hours to get into the Wrestlemania press conference only to be turned away. Chicago is a city full of wrestling fans, and I stood among their yellow-toothed, black-shirt-wearing asses for a good hour. Lots of mouth breathing was involved. I was optimistic about getting into the press conference because the Chicago Theater holds 3500, 1800 on the main floor alone. However, I think they used just the lobby so that they could show 300 people packed in like sardines. I actually felt worse for all the little kids turned away.
I drove by there at 7:30, and there was nobody. At 8, there were people lined up in the alley. By the time my brother got there at 10, his place in line was around the alley on wabash, almost to Lake Street.
He's on his way to Round Lake Beach right now to meet our favorite wrestler, Chris Benoit.
God Speed, Ratboy!

Farewell to 2851 N. Halsted

The ComedySportz Theater is being torn down after 4/30 to make room for condos. Condos which are sorely needed along Halsted. Boo. Last night my friends Robyn and Tara and I walked the space and truly explored it. Mostly casing it to see what we'd take if we could. But also contemplating all that we've been through in that building. Of course, we're excited abiut what a new space might bring, but it sucks that the old one's being torn down. It's not magnificent, and plenty flawed, but it was still our home for a long time, and mine for 5 years. I do intend to have one momento from it. I intend to take the oak posts and railing from the front basement stairway and make a headboard out of it. That way, a piece of that building will live on forever (or at least 'til I no longer own it). It's oak, dog. I can't just let it be buried and hauled away.
The funniest moment came when we contemplated this six-foot-high blank white plaster face that hangs above the theater entrance. It's a leftover from whatever company was there before we were, but when CSz took control of the building, the mounted it above the door and had dreams of projecting pictures of laughing over it. Tara said that to her, the face symbolized CSz: great ideas that somehow failed to materialize.
Farewell, 2851, if faring well is being smashed to rubble and hauled away.

Good seats still available

...for Wrestlemania if you want to pay $775.

I am so damn keyed up about it. Tomorrow is the press conference at the Chicago theater. It's 12-2, so I'm a try to go.

I hope they make seats available for the Hall of Fame. That's the one thing we didn't get.

we are 6 days removed from the biggest spectacle in Sports-Entertainment!

Wrestlemania, Suckas! Sunday my bro and I go! Monday (A week from Today) It's Raw!
I can't wait!

Diarrhea Birthday

Miette's been sick for several days now. Saturday I witnessed her vomit for the first time. It was terrifying. Mostly because she doesn't know any of the tricks for sucessful vomiting yet, like lean forward. Friday she puked through her nose, so Kiki took her to the doctor. She has a double ear infection. That, according to the doc, explains the vomiting, but it doesn't explain diarrhea (I had to spellcheck Diarrhea.), which she's also having.
She's got antibiotics now, but I really can't wait for her to feel better. Incidentally, you'd never know she was sick if not for the byproducts. She's been a total angel.
So today's my 31st birthday. Last night, I m ade my family join me at the Buffalo Wild Wings in Woodridge. I have been on the hunt for a decent Buffalo chicken Sandwich since Govnor's was closed by the city (the building was condemned in a shrewd political move to make room for a new hotel). Govnor's buffalo chicken sandwich was a full butterfly chicken breast perfectly seasoned and humorously placed between the halves of a bun. The only way to kind of make the bun work was to cut it in half and stack the chicken breasts (Thanks, Ben Johnson!). It was an event of a sandwich. So, they closed, and I have been on the hunt for a suitable replacement.
I had only been to the buffalo wild wings in Lincoln park (and maybe Champaign) before. Every time, I loved the burger, the wings, and the buffalo chips. I figured this would be a good place to look.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
The wings were good (not great). They advertised Molson Canadian on the menu, which I love, but I was informed that they no longer carry it when I ordered it. Suckkas. Then the sandwich came. It was a breaded chicken breast on a bun with cheese on it, and the buffalo sauce squirted on it like ketchup instead of soaking it like a wing (or like a true sandwich should be). Anyway, only my dad was satisfied out of the 8 of us, and he ordered fish.
The capper was the farting and cramps that woke me up at 2 in the morning, sending me to experience diarrhea myself as my first activity of my birthday. How did I know it was from the sandwich? Hot hole.

Two weeks from Yesterday I'll be at Wrestlemania. I can't wait.

Giving the Suburbs a bad name

The suburbs have tons of redeeming qualities. Unfortunately, it's shit like this that people think of when I say I live in the Suburbs.

Yep, if you're too terrified to drive to Piper's alley for Tony 'n' Tina's wedding, you can drive to Brookfield and see Joey and Maria's Comedy Italian Wedding (The Original--as it says in the pic).

Comedy Italian Wedding. I had to scan this in; I didn't think you guys would believe me.

Hurry! It's a limited run! Don't Fuhgeddabowdit!

Funny, I don't FEEL safer...

But maybe I will. Recently they installed SafetyDrapes (TM) on all the windows at Union Station. I had this sinking feeling that they were to halt the flying glass in the event of a blast, and that's exactly what they're for. I guess they would also help in the event of a tornado if one were to hit downtown.
I recommend watching the testing film available under the test/performance link on the SafetyDrape website.
Duck & Cover, Zach

Taking it back.

I was reading the esquire Viggo Mortenson interview, and in it he hands the interviewer an American Flag lapel pin. His message is taking America back from the Zealots.
I read that weeks ago and it must have resonated with me, because I can't stop thinking about it. I've been trying to find a symbol for me to rally around. One that's not the current flag because of its current connotation... or worse yet, a flag with an eagle flying over it flanked by f-16s while Jesus cries in the foreground while shaking hands with Lincoln and Christopher Reeve.

Some of this comes from my marking out over everything Ben Sherman. For the uninitiated, Ben Sherman is a British men's clothing designer that I've been accused of sleeping with because of the amount of his stuff I own. Anyway, lots of his designs incorporate the Union Jack, the british flag. I got to thinking if a US clothing designer used the US flag as much a s Ben Sherman uses the Union Jack, nobody would buy his stuff. The reason: We're all afraid of looking like this guy.

Don't get me wrong, I'm proud to be an American ('cause at least I know I'm free). I love it here. However, I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm starting to feel about average Americans the way I do about wrestling fans. "I love Wrestling but I hate Wrestling Fans" (Go to one live event and you'll know why). Much of what the national mein has become is making me feel the same way about Americans. Whatever happened to critical thinking?

Anyway, I'm trying to find a symbol used by Americans who would be up in arms if they were alive today. The kind of Americans that knew no culture of fear. The kind that rioted and burned effigies when they were unfairly taxed or their rights were infringed upon. I want to be fiercely nationalistic, but I want to be nationalistic for what America stands for, not what we are standing for. I keep coming up with the Don't Tread on Me flag used by the Culpepper Minute men. That one warning England to back the fuck up. I guess I'd be using it to say not to infringe upon my inalienable rights. I also like the idea of the eagle and shield. Like an old timey one (think Daniel Day Lewis' glass eye in "Gangs of New York").

Crap. I don't know. I know that I have a message and no symbol. I don't want to wear a lapel flag pin, because of its connotation: that I love the president.

I'm rambling here. I just wish there was a way to take America back from the idiots, and let them all make up their own minds. However, the right to be an idiot is inalienable as well.
God Bless The USA!

Private to Hixx

MH,
thanks for your comment/recommendation:
Hixx said...
Thomps, I read your blog. Cause I love cheeseburgers.I thought of you when I heard that this place was rated No.19 in the country for burgers. Never been there, checking it out though, will let you know how it goes.Poag Mahone's333 S. Wells St.Hixx

I tried Poag Mahone's in December. The following is my review from 12/30/05:
I recently hit Poag Mahone's in the 175 Jackson building. This is the only burger in Chicago that made GQ's top 25 in their July issue, and has been acclaimed by the Trib and a few other local news outlets. In a word, I was UNDERWHELMED. The most disappointing thing (save for not being able to accompany it with a beer...) was the bun. It was so toasted that it was sharp and crumbly. I wouldn't go back for it, but I may go back for the mini-burgers. They're supposed to be good as well.

Here's what GQ said:
Hamburger, Poag Mahone's Carvery and Ale HouseChicago, IL
The television, tuned to a Cubs game, was so loud I had to scream my order several times, and all I was trying to say was “hamburger.” I know everybody in Chicago is depressed because the Cubs never win. I never realized they were also deaf. I’d be disheartened, too, if I had to eat burgers in Chicago—Poag Mahone’s was the only place I found that did burgers right. Good bakery buns, soft and sweet. Tasty ground sirloin given a nice char on an indoor grill. Even a “Burger Eater’s Bill of Rights.” Poag Mahone’s lived up to most of its promises, although the pickle spear, guaranteed “crisp and cold,” was a tad warm.

I may have to give Poag Mahone's another shot. Shit, I let Boston Blackie's fail 3 times, so, why not? Thanks, Hixx. You're an enabler.
It will have to wait 'til next week, though. Today is Perry's!
P.S. Chicagoans, this weekend I make my full-time return to the stage. You can see me:

Saturday, March 4:
8 PM - I appear with Baby Wants Candy in an IMPROVISED MUSICAL at IO 3541 N. Clark (at Addison)
10:30 PM - ComedySportz March Madness Tournament begins! I play with my team, the Billikens. Your votes determine who moves on in the tournament! @ ComedySportz theater 2851 N. Halsted St. 773.549.8080 for tickets. BYOB!
MIDNIGHT - The Hot Karl - dirty, dirty improv six years running! @ ComedySportz theater 2851 N. Halsted St. 773.549.8080 for tickets. BYOB!
Kick back with a Shamrock Shake.

Cue the theme from Jurassic Park

Not that this post is about dinosaurs, but have a listen and you'll think it's appropriate for the doc telling me I don't have to wear the boot anymore! So, I'm in a regular shoe and the nifty ankle brace they gave me, and boy has it been uncomfortable all day.

I tried tapping into Myspace.com last night. Not because of the Demetri Piece on the Daily show, but instead because Chidester created a myspace page for the Hot Karl. It looks great, and I'm happy to say that it only took me a half hour to locate it. There must be a lot about myspace that I'm not seeing, because in the hour or so that I spent on it, I didn't see much. I'm not even sure if I asked to be people's pals correctly...

I finished the book "that's what I call Commuting". In about an Hour. It's by a Metra conductor and "veteran" rider. It's a collection of anecdotes about people's annoying habits, bodily functions on the train, and the overwhelming frequency of people being killed by trains (see the November archive of this here blog). It was barely worth the read; the most interesting part is the apparent frequency of women exposing themselves to the conductors from the top level of the train. I could get into that, but the book was largely 1-sentence paragraphs and warm smarmy lines at the end to let you know that things turned out aaaaalllllllll right in the end.

I also finished the Superstar Billy Graham book (the Wrestler, not the preacher) on the trip to Paris. It's depressing as hell. Most wrestling books include the dark side of steroids and drugs, but heres a book that's like 75% dark side. Still, it was an engaging read, but it's nearly unfathomable how far this dude fell. Conversely, I also recently finished the Jack Brisco (former NWA heavyweight champion) book. That was interesting as hell (to a wrestling fan) because it covered wrestling from the '40s to the '80s, and he gives bios on everyone he mentions in the book. INCLUDING his opponents in High School and College...
Anyway, this is converse to the other book because he never did drugs, and was one of those wrestlers turned pro-wrestlers that could really hold the title if need be.

Went to Potbelly's today to celebrate a friend's b-day. I like potbelly's, but I'm so damn sick of it. It's across Lake St. from my building, so almost anytime I have lunch with someone, they're like, "Hey, isn't there a potbelly right there?" ugh.

I got a flattering invite to coach an improv team of my peers today. I had to decline, though I'd love to do it, on account of how little free time I have lately. It would have been a challenge, but I think it would have been great.

Kiki and I sat down Monday night and realized we have something planned every weekend from here until 4/22. Plus the shows I have to get in, and our desire to find a new house. Plus, my daughter, who is a living, breathing tickle to me.
Cue theme to Jurassic Park...