Ballz to the MFing Wall Saturday!!!

Gonna fucking ROCK IT tomorrow! Are you ready to fucking rock!?!?!? Huh, I CAN’T HEAR YOU??? I said: “Are you ready to fucking ROCK this Saturday!?!?!?” In case you read as well as you hear, that’s 4 exclamation points and 4 question marks, non consecutive. That means I’m ready. To. Fucking. Rock. Who’s comin’ with me? Oh, what’s goin’ down tomorrow you ask? Neighborhood block party bitchez. Gonna shut the mutherfucker down, 1 block and 1 block only, and turn this mamma-jamma out! Live music? Nope, no live music. Pretty sure someone though is gonna have an outdoor iPod docking station just blasting some Dave Matthews Band. God I fucking hate Dave Matthews Band! It’s gonna be INSANE! Wake and bake? No, none of that, but what if I said “Early morning coffee and donuts”??? That pique your interest party animals? Yours truly has been given the task of talking to the “Candy Man” for some party favors (wink ;) wink ;) wink). Seriously, I’m charged with buying apples and caramel for caramel apples that we plan to make. So who wants to meet me at the local farmer’s market at 7:05am CST and fucking ROCK IT!? We’ll just roll up in that farmer’s market, get up in there deep and…..well we need to buy a lot of apples. We’ll need several bags. Going to be pretty heavy. Need to make sure we buy firm apples with thinner skins. I’m buying so you don’t need money, but you better be ready to party.

As we approach noon there’s gonna be buh….buh…..buh….bouncy house playaz! That’s right, big ol’ bouncy house for the kids to jump around in. No adults. We’ll be standing outside the bouncy house anxiously awaiting the inevitable sprained ankles and concussions. But pretty sure we’ll be rocking it none the less while we stand on the street staring at it!

Just when you thought this bacchanal couldn’t get any fucking wilder we’ve got……..CHILI. You’re fuckin’-A right clowns, chili. With beans. I don’t think there is going to be a vegetarian chili option but to be honest this shit could get out of control at any moment. So there could very well be a vegetarian chili.

And don’t worry, there will definitely be soda. Also dodgeball. I’m pretty sure some Solo cups of soda will be knocked over by stray dodgeballs, but that is just part of the craziness bros. Where there is dodgeball, you’re gonna have spilled soda. You can’t take the heat, get out of the fucking kitchen!

For those of you who absolutely must take it to the limit, there are supposed to be desserts. Get ready to rock out with your cock out on some apple pie, cake and leaf or pumpkin shaped frosted cookies. Fuck it, there might even be homemade ice cream. If we’re gonna do this then let’s go for broke.

Suffice it to say shits going nuclear on our 1 block of Oak Park tomorrow. We’re gonna party our fucking tits off until probably dark. And there’s a harvest moon, so who the hell knows, this thing might keep right on rocking until 8 or 9pm. Bring your I Don’t Give a Fuck, check your Expectations at the door, and let’s get weird.

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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