Get Your Head out of Your Ass Dude

I went for an espresso (Have become total Euro trash since 2010 vacation to Italy) at Intelligentsia today.  I hated espresso my entire life.  Just the foulest, most bitter shit.  And then finally 1.5 years ago I actually tried it and realized I liked it.  Nothing vaguely resembling what it tasted like when I had never tried it before in my life yet determined it sucked.  Who knew?  On my way I passed an immaculately dressed, rather large man, headed in the opposite direction.  Sharp blue suit and some hip cowboy boots purchased from some place I’ve never even heard of.  And a scarf.  A big, fire-engine red, fuck you scarf.  It is 55 degrees and sunny today.  It wasn’t even tied for warmth but rather for show.  Mind you, he didn’t even have a jacket on.  The pattern was huge skull and crossbones…..or so you might think before you looked closely.  I understand skull and crossbones have been hot for several years now.  And I concede that it has somehow become socially acceptable for dudes to wear ornamental scarves (although I would have liked to see someone sneak one past my Grandpa Ken while he was still alive.  Not so fucking fast, muchacho) these days.  How that happened, I’m not sure.  But I’ll let a dude slide I guess with a trendy scarf on a warm day.  But then I looked closely.  The skulls were actually bunny rabbits.  Not even mean looking sadistic fucking evil bunnies either.  Goofy ones with big teeth.  Get the fuck out of my face bro!  C’mon man, clean that shit up.  There were still crossbones below.  What the fuck kind of statement is the designer trying to make?  If the statement is that you’re a huge asshole, then you win this season of Project Runway dickhole.  And don’t try that “Well, maybe he’s gay” argument either.  There is having a little flair–which I completely respect–and then there is having a little fucking respect for yourself.  This violates the latter, egregiously.  You are better than this buddy, start acting like it.     

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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