Overhear While Passing A Group Of Tough, Manly, Chaps-Wearing, Harness-Sporting Leathermen

I was SO disappointed when American Movie Classics started showing Molly Ringwald movies!

The Wife Took The Roller Skates

Thursday 23 August, approximately 7.40 am. Seen heading north on Michigan Avenue, near the Hancock:

A gentleman, in suit and tie, listening to his iPod. Skateboarding to work.

I Didn't Know She'd Bought Her Own Country

A Chicago tour bus operator has the following on its brochure...

Enjoy Chicago's ethnic neighborhoods: Chinatown, Little Italy, Greektown, and Harpo Studios.

What You Find Online...

You know how one thing leads to another. You start out on one website and end up many websites away.

So I found myself checking out a very entertaining blog...though not entertaining in the way intended by the author.

My favorite part was when the author related he had cried tears...from his eyes. Apparently, he usually cries tears from elsewhere, and so felt it necessary to specify where his tears were coming from in this instance.

A Walk Down Halsted

Sunday, I stopped in at the Brown Elephant. I decided that rather than ride my bike, I would walk my bike down Halsted to Sidetrack, where I planned to while away an hour or two enjoying showtunes.

The things you hear and see...

I passed three young queens, one of whom found it necessary as I approached to vigorously adjust his equipment. The queen in the middle said that was why she always wore a jockstrap. The third queen announced she was not wearing underwear: she was freeballing.

As I passed Halsted and Roscoe, there were several queens sitting outside Cocktail. One of them pointed at me... using a limp wrist to point with... and said something. I couldn't quite make it out. I was just tickled by the thought of someone so queeny they point with a limp wrist.

Methinks She Doth Protest Too Much

Overheard at Sidetrack:

"People are always asking me why I have a Hummer, since my dick is NOT small."

Or, in other words, I'm so embarrassed by my tiny dick I have to tell everyone in earshot it's not small and I have a Hummer which is also huge, don't you know.

Because Bike Rider = Wine Enthusiast? Regional Expert? Drunkard?

There I was, locking up my bike on Milwaukee Avenue for a visit to the Brown Elephant store.

A gentleman stops and asks me if I knew a store in the area that sold wine.

I apologized, telling him I wasn't familiar with the area and just wasn't familiar with stores in the area (aside from the Brown Elephant).

"Oh," he replied, laughing a bit, "I saw a guy on a bike and figured I'd ask!"

Thanks for the ... compliment?

As I was leaving Delirium, one of the rides at Kings Island, a ride op approached.

"Has anyone ever told you," he asked, "that you look like Rocky Balboa?"

Perhaps it was the ice cold chill in my "No," or perhaps it was the look of dismay at being compared to a over the hill actor who looks like he's gone a few rounds in the ring that prompted him to say "But that's a good thing, really."

Sorry To Wake You

I call my landlord. It's clear that I woke him up.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"Yeah, but that's okay, I was just thinking about refugee camps."

In Boystown? What A Surprise!

Deep in the heart of Boystown, a woman and her young child step out of a restaurant. A storm had just passed through, the pavement still slick with rain, but now the sun was breaking through.

And the woman said, in a Barney-esque voice, "Raaiinnbooowwww! Raaiinnnbboowww! I feel a raaiinnnbboow coming on!"

Guessing Game

So the phone rings at the theatre, guy wanting to order tickets.

How many, I inquire.

All of 'em, he says.

I'm sorry?

All of 'em. Unless you've got, like, 400.

I'm sorry?

Well, I've got a big house.

Um....it is difficult for me to determine the best available seats for your party if I don't have a general idea of how many people might be in your party.

Shit, you're gonna make me count....one...two...three...

....um, ten?

My Doctor Redeems Himself

Several months ago I went to the doctor. He wanted to take some blood, run some tests, and since it was best that I not eat before the tests my appointment was for 7:30 in the morning. I went, he tested, and when he was done he made a suggestion.

"Since you're here, we may as well take a look at your prostate."

Which is how I came to find myself, at about 7:45 in the morning, bent over, pants around my knees, regretting my choice of underwear for the day. (What seems whimsically amusing when you think no one will see...)

This morning I was back at the doctor's office. My blood pressure was down -- not to where it should be, but down. The doctor went into his litany of denial: watch the salt, don't drink too much, avoid fast food, restaurants, especially Chinese restaurants.... "Doctor," I said, "you've pretty much taken away every single thing I eat."

"Well, wait," he says, "it's not all bad news. You can smoke marijuana. Don't smoke tobacco but I have no problem with responsibly using marijuana. And you can have sex, all the sex you want, with whoever you want -- just wear protection if you don't know them."

How can you not like a doctor who tells you to get high and get laid?

I wanted to ask for a prescription, though. Take that into the Walgreen's: "I'd like to get this filled -- generic is fine, thanks."

And how handy would that be in a bar? "You're cute. I need you to fill this prescription for me. Your place or mine?"?

Peculiar Pick-up Line: The Sequel

There I was, standing in a bar, beer in hand, enjoying myself. A man approaches.

Him: "Hi."

Me: "Hello."

H: "How you doing?"

M: "Fine, yourself?"

H: "Fine."

Long pause.

H: "I'm wearing a jockstrap."

What Else Are They Expecting?

I handed a woman the header card for her tickets and asked her to sign, and she held it up and said: "Sign this?" And I wanted to ask her what else she thought I might be asking her to sign. Her sleeve? The floor? A 27-page contract? On the one hand I understand that she was merely verifying what I had asked her to do; but on the other, since it was the only possible alternative, why ask?

It's something I have occasion to wonder about now and again. When we used to hand tickets out in envelopes, some folks would hold up the envelope and ask if their tickets were in it. What else would there possibly be in there? Hm, I've walked up to the box office, I've asked for the tickets I ordered, and they've handed me a small envelope. Why, it's about the size and shape of theater tickets. I wonder what's inside? Wait -- is it my tickets? I could open it up and see...no, I'd better ask first.

I could imagine them at McDonald's, placing their order, and when the bag of food was handed to them holding it up and asking if their food was inside.

It's In The Genes

I recently attended a wedding, at which the bride wore an absolutely stunning wedding dress.

And that reminds me of this...

Many years ago, when I was in college, I was in a work study program to help defer the costs of my education. My boss, the college's graphic designer, announced one day that she was getting married. She had decided that there was one person in the world she wanted to design her wedding dress.

Me.

It seems that, in her mind, gay = fashion designer, and, since I liked boys, I met the essential qualification to design one of the most important dresses of her life. (I eventually declined.)

Now, that reminds me of this...

I was out one Halloween in Grand Rapids, when a saucy drag queen in not much of an outfit started talking to me. The drag queen obviously knew me, and I had no idea who she was.

At the time I worked at the Grand Rapids YMCA (not out of love for those less fortunate; rather, if you worked there you got free access to the Y's health club). As is my way, in slow periods I doodled, and usually doodled women in various outrageous outfits.

The drag queen in question was one of my co-workers, and he told me that one day he had come in for a shift after mine. He found one of my doodles, and was so entranced by what he saw that he immediately tossed his idea for a Halloween costume and instead was wearing the outfit I'd designed.

Always Go To The Source

The phone rings at the theater.

"Are you in Chicago?" Yes, ma'am, right inside the theater even.

"Is it snowing there?" Not now. It was earlier, but it's stopped.

"Well, is my flight going to be cancelled?" Um, you might actually want to contact your airline with that question.

"Really?" Really.

Is The Librarian Creepy?

I used to live near the Uptown branch of the Chicago Public Library and was in there every week or two. But back in 2005 I moved to Andersonville, and so started to patronize my new neighborhood branch, the Bazaznian branch.

One day I went to pick up a book I had ordered, and when I walked in the librarian walked away from the counter. I thought that was rather rude. Then she returned: holding the book I had ordered.

I expressed my surprise. She said she remembered me from the Uptown branch. My first thought was, wow, great memory, followed shortly by my second thought: they scan library cards. She had no reason to know my name, and that she remembered my name and face after two years....

Son Of Just Because I Know The Answer To My Question Doesn't Mean I Know The Answer To My Question,

Man calls the theater. Tells me his son turns 5 in August, but they want tickets in April.

Man: "So, come on, tell me: how strict are they really?"

Me: "Well, they just don't allow children under 5 into the theater."

Man: "No, come on, really, how strict are they?"

Me: "Children under 5 are not allowed into the theater."

[Man seems to think that what we mean by 'children under 5 are not allowed in the theater' is 'if you ask enough times, we'll change our silly little minds and let any ol' child into the theater]

Man, exasperated: "You know, all I'm looking for here is a human answer."

Me: "Okay, well, the human answer is that the show is so loud, the hearing of children under 5 can be permanently damaged by the volume. Further, in the early years of Blue Man Group children under 5 were allowed into the show and all too often, such young children found the Blue Men to be not entertaining but terrifying. The parents then had to spend the bulk of the show in the lobby consoling a terrifed child."

Man: "Oh. Okay. Um. Okay, we'll just get four tickets for...."

It's In The Stars

My horoscope today read: "You are like a tea kettle, right at that moment when it's about to boil and squeal with delight," which somehow sounds dirty to me.

Guessing Game

Fellow comes up to the box office window, wants to pick up tickets.

"Last name?"

"It's either my last name or my wife's."

I wait for him to move on to what seems the next logical point of conversation: one of those names.

I try prompting him: "And....?"

"Yes?"

I give up: "Do you know what one of those names might be?"