The other day Kel and I got into an argument about the political beliefs of fruit...

Kel: I think bananas would be republicans.
Me: Oh, because of Banana Republic?
Kel: (laughing) Yeah.
Me: I don't think bananas would be republicans.
Kel: Oranges would be republicans too.
Me: No way. And also, I think if bananas were republicans then plantains would be democrats.
Kel: What's a plantain?
Me: It's a member of the banana family.
Kel: And I think grapes would be republicans. No wait! Red grapes would be -
Me: Kel, this is ridiculous!
Kel: No it's not.
Me: This is like when I was learning Italian and it'd be like, 'the pen is male and the pencil is female.' (pause) It's a pen and a pencil! It doesn't have genders!
Kel: But apples would be republicans!
Me: (sigh)

Today I was at WebMD seeing what's killing me now, and an ad popped up about losing weight.



I don't think anyone with weight loss issues actually looks like that.

...I mean, don't you just hate it when you're a model and you can't fit into your size 0 jeans. Crap!

Today for lunch Mican and I went to the Taste of Chicago on our break. We had pizza, ribs, veggie dogs, ice cream, and Gatorade. At one point we ran into a man handing out pamphlets for Jews for Jesus, and took one.

Mican: Jews for Jesus?
Me: Yeah, haven't you heard of them?
Mican: Yeah, I guess so. Are you a Jew for Jesus?
Me: Eh. I'm a Jew for...whoever is paying the most.
Mican: Ah, a true Jew.

Mican then got her picture taken with a cardboard cut-out of Shania Twain and we contemplated getting fried aligator on a stick. God bless the Taste.

So my friend Kelli who runs Strawberry Mustard.com is on sabbatical. Needless to say I was curious what she's been up to lately.

Kelli: Oh, I guess I have a pet bat now.
Me: A pet bat?
Kelli: He flew in my house.
Me: What's its name?
Kelli: Tuppence.
Me: Tuppence the bat.
Kelli: Yeah.
Me: So what does he do?
Kelli: Oh you know, he just hangs out.

The Sun-Times is just becoming more and more ridiculous.

First, last week it was announced that the Chicago Sun-Times had lied about it's circulation numbers in order to charge advertisers more money after sales had fallen and their advertising budget had been slashed.

Then this morning, on Day Two of GOP Senate candidate Jack Ryan's sex scandal, the Sun-Times has a frontpage headline reading RYAN DIGS IN, with the quotes below reading:

RYAN: I told Edgar everything. EDGAR: No, he didn't.

This is the frontpage of a (supposedly) major newspaper in the third largest city in America! I'm not sure if this is Ryan being ridiculous or the Sun-Times.

p.s. People with the last name Ryan should just stop trying to run for office in Illinois

Last night at Kit Kat there were several memorable conversations. One was by a man in the Army who was shipping out the next day. When the man sitting next to him mentioned something about Army Jeeps the guy replied,
Army Guy: We don't have Jeeps in the Army anymore. We have Hummers.
Me: Oh yeah, that's right.
Army Guy: But I've broken two already.
Me: Broken two?
Army Guy: (thinking it's funny) Yeah.
Me: I'm sorry, they're $50,000 vehicles and you just...broke two.
Army Guy: It's surprisingly easy.

Then there was the man who informed me that he always comes in on the same nights and order the same thing.
Habit Guy: When I pick something I stick with it.
Me: I see.
HG: And it's a good thing I only live a few blocks away. I'm getting kinda buzzed.
Me: That's your second. Have you eaten today?
HG: I ate all day!
Me: Alright.
HG: I haven't been this buzzed since 1980!
Me: 1980?!
Tragically this man was not trying to but funny. It was just kind of sad.

But then there was the customer in the trench coat that came in...
Trench Coat Guy: Hey, can I ask you a weird question.
Me: Sure.
TCG: Where am I?
Me: The Kit Kat Club.
TCG: Um...what city am I in?
Me: Chicago. (pause) That's in Illinois.
TCG: I know that.
Me: Well, I wasn't taking any chances.
Trench Coat Guy went on to inform me that he had gotten on a bus and woken up here.
Me: Yup, well you're on the northside of Chicago. In boystown.
TCG: Boystown?
Me: Gay neighborhood.
TCG: Ah.
Me: Where are you from?
TCG: Indiana.
Me: And you just...got on a bus?
TCG: Well, my girlfriend of three years kicked me out the house because she thought I was gay, and then I got drunk and got a bus...
Me: And you ended up in boystown. How interesting.
At this point I had to ask him for ID to prove if he was really from Indiana. He did have an Indiana ID, though I still wasn't sure I believed his story. ...But it sure makes for damn good blogging!

Today I came across a subscription card for Passenger Terminal World, a magazine specializing in airport passenger terminals. There's no joke here, that's it.

To prove I'm not kidding, the website is here.

Scene: Today at breakfast Mican, Elijah and I talked about what we'd like to do with our lives.

Mican: I'd like to win the lottery. Though...I'd have to pay taxes on that so...I guess, I'd like to just find a briefcase full of money.
Me: That can be hard to find.
Elijah: I'd like to get a sugar daddy that doesn't want to have sex, but just wants to take me out to dinner.
Mican: Remember that guy about a year ago who owned one of the restaurants by Wrigley Field and wanted me to work there and live in one of his apartment buildings?
Me: Yeah.
Mican: Yeah, he was creepy. I wouldn't live there.
Elijah: I'd like to be a sugar daddy and just have an apartment building filled with my hoes.
Me: "Hmm, I feel like gettin' some 2F today."

Today at the bank I deposited some money, and after my transaction the teller handed me some promotional thing where I could get free money if I opened some kind of savings account. "Here," he said, "Tell a friend about this. Or...tell yourself." He smiled as I looked a the handout and then walked away.

I'm sorry...tell a friend, or tell yourself?

Me #1: Hey self, have you heard about this offer to earn $25 when you open a checking account.
Me #2: Uh, yeah. I was there, remember?
Me #1: Oh, right. I forgot. You're me.

Some people worry about getting Cancer. Others worry about getting Gang Green. But no one ever worries about Gerd. Well I do now!

This morning at work I mentioned to Leah that I had a pain in my throat and chest.
Leah: That sounds like Heartburn, Dude.
Me: Heartburn?!
Leah: You're getting old.
Me: Heartburn?!
Leah: Maybe you have Gerd.
Me: What's Gerd?
Leah: My kitty has it. It's this acid reflux thing.
Me: (starting to worry) I have the same thing as your cat?!
Leah: I give her medicine. It's tuna flavored.
Me: (really losing it) Am I gonna have to take tuna flavored medicine?!
Leah: (shrugging) I don't know.

I promptly went to Google and looked up Gerd, which led me to Gerd.com. This, in turn, led to the Gerd FAQ. There were such questions as "What is Gerd?" "What are some symptoms of Gerd?" "Do children get Gerd?" "What is the difference between Gerd and Gord?" and "Can Gerd cause cancer?".

Me: I think I'm dying.
Leah: You're not dying, you just have Gerd.

Bring on the tuna flavored medicine.

At Kit Kat last night Dan thought it would be a good idea for me to sample from all the martinis that were being made so that I'd have an opinion when people asked what was good or what they should order. He'd make something and a minute later a small glass with a few centimeters of martini would be sitting there.

Dan: That's a Raspberry Chocolate Truffle.
Me: Mmm, tastes like raspberry chocolate.
Dan: This ones called a Birthday Cake.
Me: Wow, this really tastes like a birthday cake!

After a while it started to feel as if I was in a jelly bean factory, tasting all the different flavors - "Man! This totally tastes like buttered popcorn! How do they do it!" After a while I also started to get a bit buzzed.

Dan: Here's a Blue Moon.
Me: Wow, this really tastes like a blue moon!

A few night ago while out drinking, Paul (my brother's boyfriend, who I refer to as Helf, from his last name Helfen) and I were talking and I decided that we should have our own 70's cop buddy show called Helf and the Heeb.

Helf would be the tough, old school cop who brings his own brand of justice to the force, and I'd be Heeb, the young, plucky rookie who gets assigned to be Helf's new partner. "Jumpin' Juvies!" Helf would yell, slamming some reports down on his desk, "Don't saddle me up with this kid!" But all the chief would be able to do is shrug and say, "This came straight down from division. It's outta my hands. But hey, give the guy a chance. He's a good kid." And then Helf would look out the office through the blinds and I'd be sitting at my desk, making a bracelet out of paper clips or something dumb like that. "Jeeeeez!" Helf would sigh, smoothing back his hair with his hand and walking out to talk to me.

UPN, here we come!

Knowing our shared love for crosswords, yesterday Kellie bought me The New York Times Crosswords for Your Bedside - 75 Soothing, Easy Puzzles. Well guess what? They're not soothing at all! And you can forget about easy. You know what crosswords are easy? The TV Guide crossword! Or the People Magazine crossword. There's a picture of Robin Williams and the words "58 Across" below him and you go, "Oh! I know 58 across! It's Robin Williams!" That is soothing and easy. A five letter word for "Pitcher Hideo Nomo's birthplace" is not soothing or easy!

Sigh. I think I'm going to go out and buy a People Magazine.

Today I hit my snooze button one too many times and was woken by Leah's voice on my answering machine saying, "Josh, it's Leah. You were supposed to be here at 9 and it's almost 10. Um...call me if you're coming in today." I immediately buried by head under my pillow.

When I arrived at work Leah informed me that I was on her list. "Aww crap," I said. "What does it take to get off the list?" "Arriving on time," she informed me. "Anything besides that?" I asked. She said that she liked it better when I was Brad. "I might just have to fire you and hire him," she said. Stupid Brad.

Then, later, as I was shelving alone up on Stack 3 Leah jumped out from behind a shelf and yelled "Ahh!" scaring the crap out of me. "Jesus!" I exclaimed, "What are you doing?" "Now we're even," she said.

What kind of workplace is this? Though, honestly, what kind of worker am I? Hmm.

Last night at Kit Kat these two horribly boring people were seated in front of me. Unlike Sunday night when I had a rotating buffet of crazy/funny customers, last night I was stuck with a gay man and a straight woman who sat for hours and only had two drinks each. It was like the most boring, unfunniest, least celebrity-guest-packed episode of Will & Grace ever. All they talked about was religion and their families. I wanted to yell at them, "This is not the kind of place for this! Go get some cheap wine and have this boring chat at home!" But all I could do was smile.

Next time you're out drinking be courteous to the people working who are listening in - give 'em something to listen to!

Because of my cure for boredom last Friday (which I blogged about) Amy came up to me yesterday at work...

Amy: Last night I had this dream that Brad Pitt worked in the library.
Me: Really?
Amy: Yeah. For some reason or another everyone had called in sick and I had to teach Brad how to work at the reference desk.
Me: (laughing) How'd that go?
Amy: I don't think he did too well. You know how Brad is. But I figured it wouldn't really matter how he did or if he screwed up, because everyone would just forgive him and be fine with whatever he did.
Me: Because he's Brad.
Amy: Right. I mean, you don't really care what information he's giving you. He can do no wrong.
Me: (sigh) All because of that Vanity Fair cover.

I'm so glad I have the power of suggestion over Amy's dreams now.

Last night was my first night working at Kit Kat, a swanky restaurant and martini bar up on Halstead. In what may become a regular feature here on my blog, here are things overheard last night while working:

Slow Drinker: I mean, I should just become a priest. I'm already celibate. And I've got the whole gay thing going for me.

Sleazy Jerk: (mid conversation) And I took the frosting off the cake! Well, every woman in there just looked at me like I was horrible! And I realized, I have got to change parties now, I've got to get out of here. Because I have no chance of scoring here anymore. I've ruined my chances. I've cockblocked myself!

Tan Woman: I just think that you and my sister had a connection.
Goatee Guy: Wait. By connection do you mean sex?

Guy #1: Hey man.
Guy #2: Oh. Hi.
Guy #1: What's up?
Guy #2: Nothing. What are you doing here?
Guy #1: You called me.
Guy #2: What?
Guy #1: About 40 minutes ago. You called me and told me to come here.
Guy #2: I did?
Guy #1: Yeah, you can look at my cell phone log. (shows him) Are you on drugs or something man, because you can tell me.
Guy #2: No. No I swear.
Guy #1: Cause you're weirding me out.
Guy #2: I'm sorry. I was at the Cubs game all day.
Guy #1: Oh, that explains it then.

Today on the train the signs saying what line the train was were broken. So while the sign said 'Loop' and was brown, the train was actually a Purple line headed towards the loop. At every stop the conductor announced, "Attention all passengers, this is a Purple line train. I repeat, this is a Purple line train. The signs are broken. This is a Purple line train making all Purple line stops. All Purple line riders aboard." At the Clark and Lake stop a man gets on during this announcement, sits down, and the train starts to move. He looks around and goes, "Shoot! Is this a Purple line train? I thought it was Green!" He sighs and stands up to get off at the next stop.

Huh?!

After suffering through my bored phone calls while waiting for the Red line (three Brown line trains came to Fullerton - not one Red line!), and then having to wait with me several times this weekend, Kellie has suggested that I change the title of my blog to Waiting for the Red Line. "Yeah," I agreed. "The story of my life."

Today I was trying to find out when my contract with my cell phone is up. You think technology is your friend, but it's not.

Machine: To verify the account please say the last four digits of the primary account holder's social security number.
Me: 7975.
Machine: Your current balance is $51.43. If you would like to make a payment now say 'yes', if not say 'no'.
Me: Um, I want to talk to a human being.
Machine: I'm sorry, I don't understand what you are saying. To repeat your options say 'repeat'. Otherwise, to make a payment say 'credit payment' or 'debit payment'.
Me: No, um...customer service representative!
Machine: I'm sorry, I don't understand what you are saying. If you would like to make a payment now say 'yes', if not say 'no'. For help say 'help'.
Me: (yelling) Help! Help!
Machine: I'm sorry, that's not a valid option right now. Goodbye. (click)
Me: (still yelling) No!
(I angrily dial them again)
Machine: To verify the account please say the last four digits of the primary account holder's social security number.
Me: 7975!!
Machine: Your current balance is $51.43. If you would like to make a payment now say 'yes', if not say 'no'.
Me: Help!
Machine: I'm sorry, I don't understand what you are saying. If you would like to make a payment now say 'yes', if not say 'no'.
Me: Help? Please?
Machine: I'm sorry, I don't understand what you are saying. If you would like to make a payment now say 'yes', if not say 'no'.
Me: (sigh) Yes.

So, instead of finding out when my contract was up I ended up paying $51.43. I just wanted to talk to a real human!

Today at lunch Kristine and I picked up the newest issue of Vanity Fair, the June issue with Brad Pitt on the cover.


For the rest of the day I walked around the library holding the issue in front of my face, talking to people as if I was Brad.

Brad (me): Y'know, I don't really care about that Friends girl, just run away with me.
Kristine: (laughing)Sure.

Brad (me): So uh, you seen my new movie yet?
Amy: No. Have you seen it?
Brad (me): ...No.

Brad (me): Hey baby.
Leah: Oh hi Brad. What's going on?
Brad (me): I decided to get a job at the library. Where does this go?
Leah: Ask Josh, he'll know.

Sigh. If only I cold be Brad Pitt every day. Life would be so easy. My life as a Brad Pitt.

Today, while doing some research for a story, I ended up at the official website for the Panama canal. The website gives the history of the canal, facts and statistics about the canal, and the like. Then I noticed that there was a live webcam on the canal that you can watch. Was I going to sit in my apartment in Chicago and watch the Panama canal live, thousands of miles away? I was.

When I clicked on the link two different cameras came up, one that was showing the Miraflores Locks and one that showed the Gatun Locks. This site really delivered!

Then, below the two cameras was the note:

If you wish to request a change in the Miraflores Locks camera's angle, send an email to aep-osu@pancanal.com. Such requests will be honored as time and circumstances at the Miraflores Locks allow.

Currently, we are not accepting requests for angle changes of the camera at Gatun Locks.

I mean...what is up with the Gatun locks?

Recently the Smithsonian National Museum of American History unveiled its newest exhibit: The lunchbox. Dating back to the 1860's, the exhibit details the evolution of the lunchbox and the close relationship it has with television and movies. The exhibit discusses the lunchbox's prominent place in American pop culture, as well as the psychological relationship between children and the lunchboxes they choose. "The first connection of the public display of one's affections and tastes is a fairly serious thing," says Charles Camp, a professor of folklore and popular culture at Penn State University. Evidently I felt the need to let the world know that I was an appreciator of sci-fi and cheesy costumes with the Star Trek: The Next Generation lunchbox I had when I was seven.

The exhibit also shoots off such facts as the best-selling Thermos brand lunchbox (the Roy Rodgers lunchbox in 1953 which sold 2 million units), and the best-selling lunchbox ever (the Disney school bus lunchbox featuring Mickey, Donald, Bambi, et. all, in production from 1961 to 1973, and sold 9 million units). Of course there are many misses that the lunchbox powers that be don't like to discuss. As Thermos Vice President Rick Dias admits, "Ricky Martin didn't sell well."

Ironically, the exhibit is on display in the Smithsonian cafeteria.