Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Where the Wild Things Send a Horrible Message and Rape My Childhood...

Oh dear or dear where to even start with this fucking travesty of film making torn from the pages of our collective childhoods...

First off there comes the question of just how much of our childhood this book really is and how much of it's supposed cultural relevance is manufactured by the promoters of this epic turd of a movie. While I remember the book, and loving the illustration in it, I have absolutely no recollection of the actual story beyond a bad kid hanging out with monsters. Interestingly enough a large portion of the people I have spoken to who 'loved' the book could not remember the story themselves; not surprising since I remember it having like 20 words... With so many people having only a vague memory of the book one has to wonder is it truly a book loved by all or just shared cultural memory that has been exploited by a media and commercially savvy movie industry? I vote for the later but I'm a pretty paranoid guy...

Truth be told as much as I hate being manipulated by studios who, lacking any real creativity, rip off the things we loved when we where young or proven formulas if the end result is me sitting down, eating a huge bag of popcorn and enjoying a cherry Coke and watching a good movie then I can pretty much put all of that aside because, honestly, I have a short attention span and bright flashing lights enthrall me. Sadly Where the Wild Things Are not only does not manage to mitigate that rage but it actually generates additional rage.

Production wise I really have no issues with the movie, in fact it was refreshing to see a pretty simple movie effects wise in the day of over the top CGI epics. The costume and set design was simple and well done and worked in many cases to set a mood, the monsters homes and architecture was wonderful. It was a very nice film to look at, but sadly that is there the joy ended for me.

The first thing that upset me was that Max, our child protagonist, is a horrible, horrible brat and at the start of the movie he is a complete shit and his mother offers him nothing in the way of punishment beyond a stern look. Later on we see max freaking out, biting his mother and running off into the night because he wasn't getting enough attention because mommy was trying to get a little sumptin'-sumptin'. After running away young Max boards the boat made of dreams and floats off to the land of make believe or the monster island or what ever the fuck it is...

The time in the isleand is pretty much as good as the movie gets and that's not saying much. The 'wild things' are interesting and all represent different parts of the personality (I assume) and somewhere in here we learn a lesson about behavior, expectations and some other stuff I was not all that clear on because, honestly, it's apretty convoluted story at this point and I think there was supposed ot be somekind of symbolisim in it all but I sure as hell missed it. After learning whatever lesson he learned on the island Max returns to the real world and runs his sorry ass back home and this is where the movie really pisses me the fuck off.

When this little shit of a kid returns home moms there, gives him a sad look of longing and procedes to give sad little Max, who inspite the mystery lesson on the island never once thinks to apologize for being a demon seed, a hug, feeds him some soup followed by a tasty piece of cake. Yeah, that's right. Fucking CAKE! The little bastard threw a tantrum, bit his mother, ran away and then comes home showing no external sign of remorse and his mom GIVES HIM FUCKING CAKE!! Great message we're sending kids, and parents, there eh? Yeah, yeah, I know the movie is aimed at adults but you don't think people are going to take kids to see it? You don't think the whole thing is going to be attractive to children? Fuck yes to both of those! On top of the mesage it sends to kids it's bullshit feel-good ending is a justification to every weak sauce pussy parent who wants to be their kids friend; fuck that shit. The little fucker should have recived an ass beating to end all as beatings, I know I would have if I had done that as a child, and I turned out OK.

I think.

Saturday, October 24, 2009


Today while discussing some aspects of my personal life and philosophy with a friend I have finally been forced to acknowledge the fact that I am well on my way to becoming a legitimate crabby old crazy guy and not exactly unhappy about it. Mind you I've always been a little bit of a crank but I always figured I'd grow out of it but as I rapidly approach my 34th year many of my crabby old man like idiosyncrasies seem to not only be sticking around but I am pretty sure I am getting worse. One has to wonder how long it's going to be before it all spirals out of control and I fill my role living alone and wondering why all those damn kids have to be so annoying...

Shit, I just realized something unpleasant; I'm already there.

No, seriously, my much younger downstairs neighbor referred to me as 'eccentric' due to my choice of bicycles, sleep, eating and drinking habits, as well as my apparel. On top of this my roommate, who is of close age, thinks I am way out there and, truth be told, I really don't get along with a large portion of the world leads me to believe I may have already crossed that line. But I'm OK with that and have decided to make it the new direction for my blog.

We are now dedicated to the chronicling of my continuing eccentricity; what exactly that means I'm not really sure yet but there is a good chance it is going to contain rants, movie and book reviews as well as a gateway into my daily life and lots of pictures... just not as many as the drinks thing required...

And yes, I know the picture is of The Tell Man from Phantasm; someday I hope to be that fucking spooky.

Monday, October 19, 2009

I am failure

OK, so it appears the pictures of drinks project is a complete failure. Not because I lacked the discipline required, even in my most drunken stupors I got all the pictures I needed In fact I didn't really miss any until the other night and that was only because I forgot my camera entirely. The problem is it is just to fucking labor intensive to put them into a post here!

Seriously I have like 4 or 5 nights worth of drink pictures but I simply do not have the time it takes to use blogger's amazingly cumbersome composer to put the pictures up on this blog, it take an hour plus to get 15 drink pics up and even then they don't look as good as I would like. I think I am either going to continue the project or start it again next month but find a easier way to display the pictures on the web.

Now on to hate.

Dear Jimmy,

While I do enjoy your sandwiches I am afraid it is time for us to bring our sandwich maker/sandwich eater relationship to an end. Often in the past I have habitually enjoyed your sandwiches on my lunch break at work because your fast, convenient and courteous online ordering and delivery save me valuable time and delivery tasty sandwiches to my office door step at my slightest whim.

However as of late I have been unable to order your sandwiches on line for the last several business days. Your location at 543 S. Shemale Rd in Carol Stream seems to be continually off line; even at hours where I would expect them to not only be open but eagerly accepting orders, you know... lunch time and what not. The absurdity of a chain that is supposed to pride itself on fast, friendly service not allowing me to order simply and quickly on line puts me off my lunch to be quite honest with you.

Oh, I know I could simply call up the store as your website suggests but did it ever occour to you that I am having your shitty fucking sandwiches delivered to me via gthe web because I am a angry misanthrope who has no desire to talk to the mouth breathing degenerates that make up much of fast food service industry? I order online so I do nto have to talk to the retards you hire. Interestingly enough this is pretty much the reason I avoid picking up, or eating in, at your stores. I know it seems crass and superficial but truth be told I have no desire to know how stupid the people who make my sandwich are, let a lone to see how ugly they are... the mere thought of it puts me off my feed and gives me wicked bad indigestion; I mean who wants to think about what could have fallen out of that nappy, greasy head of unkempt heair into my marginally delicious sandwich?

Sorry Jimmy, but if I have to leave the comfort of my desk I'm going to go get myself a tasty sandwich somewhere I can get something other then bland fucking white bread.


Thursday, October 15, 2009

I'm not dead...

I bet you all think I forgot about you and my little picture project but lo and behold no, I have no forgotten I've just been wicked busy with work and all that silly real life shit that gets in the way of the good old fashioned internet, and drinking. Fear not I will soon be catching up not only here in pictures but in real life alcohol intake soon!

In other news I am sick of being sick; for some reason unknown to me I have had a low grade cold for what is going on 4 weeks now. Sniffles, stuffy head, fatigue and a feeling of general sickness have plagued me continually and I've had it up to here with this shit. I am going to set off on a 3 point plan to rid myself of what ever swine flu/zombie virus/flesh eating death I have. Point one is rest and relaxation, no work for me this weekend. Point two is whiskey, and lots of it. Point 3 is more whiskey; I'm going to burn this fucking virus out with the napalm that is sweet, sweet whiskey.

More soon, including pictures of fun.

Friday, October 9, 2009

All Hail the Moon Zombies!!

So as much as I wanted, and I mean really wanted, to stay in and behave the night before I had to get up at 4:30 AM and take a 13 hour round trip drive I had no choice but to go out and get pretty well boozed up; not wasted mind you just happily inebriated because last night, much like tonight and the next several, could be the last chance we will ever have to enjoy alcohol in the pre-zombie apocalypse world. See the egg heads over at NASA, who you think would have seen at least one fucking sci-fi movie by now have decided to bomb the goddamn moon in a effort to find water up there... Yeah, great idea guys, I mean it's not like scientific exploration for lofty and noble goals ever goes seriously fucking haywire with horrible consequences to all man kind, right?

Call me crazy but I am telling you this bomb the moon shit is going to be the end of us all, there going to bring back the long frozen moon water and when that shit thaws some fucking moon-microbe is going to get loose and combine with the hastily brewed H1N1 flu vaccine and BOOM!

Patient zero of the zombie motherfucking apocalypse.

Yeah, laugh all you want but I'm treating every day the next couple of weeks like it could be my last day on earth and my pole-axe handy... what, you don't have a pole axe? Shit, you are getting eaten alive!

anyway, on to the alcohol!

Dollar beer night and patient zero on the path to drunken night out apocalypse has landed... as of now the plan is no hard liquor and keep it on the up and up, just a couple ya know?

#2 is friend approved as A-OK for human consumption. Zombie virus free.

I'm pretty sure I planned to go home after this...

Whoops! A friend came by with good news, it would have been rude not to throw one back in the name of comradery and I have always been a polite man.

Sadly after the Malort clouded my judgement excellent salesmanship and free popcorn from Rick James groin caused me to loose control of my better judgment and drink #4 has landed.

Historically #4 is where things always take a turn for the less responsible with me...

Not to be proven wrong I moved on to beer #5.

Shortly after finishing what really should have been my last beer I cam across this lovely couple and decided to sit a while longer and have a chat with them to find out how society viewed their interracial relationship; ends up things are easier for them in my stomach...

And somehow my couple of drinks became 8 and 1:30 AM. After this I showed the slight bit of good judgement I could muster and ventured home for 3 hours of sleep, a late start and a very tired day.

I so should be napping right now in preparation of another night out preparing mentally for the loss of organized bar society but I love all of you dear readers so much I just had to make sure I got my update done toot-sweet.

Love me for it, give me the attention my mother never did turning me into a blogger.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

I've been busy, busy, busy...

So it's been a busy couple of days; Monday and Tuesday night involved some drinks but real life has left me busy enough I need to combine the updates...

Monday a friend called and was going to see a show at Ronny's and wanted to know if I would come out and meet him for a beer or two. Being as Ronny's is a whole block from my fortress I really had no choice although upon arriving we where surprised to find out that they do not open until nine which left us with some time to kill so we hoofed it down to a new bar in the 'hood, Blitz which is... well I don't really know what to say about this place because it can't really decide what it wants to be; we both agreed the best way to describe it was half assed, at best.

Blitz was the sight of two great failings on my part. For one we ordered a Bud and where served Bud Light and I just did not have the heart to argue with the guy over it. I also, for the first time, forgot to snap a pic of the offending drink, I blame the fact we where talking and catching up. I feel the lead pic makes up for it.

After an unejoyable beer at an unenjoyable bar we went back to Ronny's and settled in for some delicious PBR and interesting scenery on the 'Cherry-Master' video pocer machine; I couldn't stop thinking of Lisure Suit Larry...

Beer number three found us in the performance space which was nice because it smells less like pee then the bar half of the building but not so nice because it smells almost exactly like a sweaty gym sock.

So this is why I love Ronny's, where else can you go and watch a kick ass metal band perform right next to a religious icon?

Under the watchful eye of the virgin Mary I felt a little like a heel for drinking on a school night so I hoofed it out of there happy to have an easy night out with a good friend.

Tuesday brought me to West Town Bikes for open shop and, as always, good conversation with awesome people and we all know nothing goes better with bikes than sweet, sweet beer.

2nd beer of the night to the right shows what the most important bike maintenance tool really is...

In all seriousness if you are a cyclist and enjoy working on your own stuff you should really check out West Town and it's retail shop Ciclo Urbano; both are staffed with friendly and helpful people and are great Chicago bike resources!

After super fun bike fixing time it was off to, of course, Relax on Milwaukee which I still say is the best little dive bar in Chicago where we started into Old Style and water for drink number 3.

One of the many things making Relax the best bar ever, other than wicked cheap drinks, is free popcorn so #4 went hand in hand with some buttery goodness.

And #5 is a free shot of Malort; another reason to love Relax is the owner likes to buy the patrons drinks... how can you not love that?

Moving on to #6 we went with more Malort... I'm not really sure why I thought this was a good idea.

Seven left me forced off of Old Style by an empty keg, I was very sad for a period here.

More Highlife, how the fuck long does it take to change a keg!?

At last, swee draft beer...

Ten brings us to... another boring draft beer. I need to drink more interesting things.

Hmmm, the change to a different glass for #11 seems to have no efect on my sense of excitement...

Last but never least a final shot of Malort to keep me warm in the wind on the ride home, yum!

Sadly there was no direct trip home due to other peoples drama but that is a story for another day when I have had more sleepytime the night before.

Monday, October 5, 2009

Don't Judge Me!

Let me give you a recipe for a happy Dug:

1 liter ginger ale
1 half pint of cheap whiskey (I prefer Old Grandad for these but I'm to lazy to walk beyond the closest liquor store...)
1 violent video game or bad movie.

Drink about one pint of ginger ale, add whiskey, and enjoy fairly strong drink that's good for the digestion. Add violent video games, snacks and bad movie as needed for a night of solitary fun. If you favor a slightly less whiskey flavored drink leave a couple of big swigs in the half pint for later enjoyment when you need to fortify your courage.

Yeah, possibly pretty sad I know but I had fun killing nazis late into the night.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Epic hangover day

Today I am no longer a normal man of flesh and blood; I am a new form of human made of pure undiluted hangover.

Things got enjoyably out of hand last night and I have paid for it dearly today. I blame not only myself but one of my friends for finishing his day close to my apartment and dragging me out for a few drunks before my planned evening out during time I has allotted for napping.

I guess it could be worse, today was my only day off this week and I was still able to have a productive day off although after I write this it is couch/movie/killin' nazis time and I plan to do nothing that requires any real physical effort and doubt I'll be drinking to night or tomorrow.

Now, on to the pictures!

It all started at Quenchers with good beers. Yeah I know it seems out of character but I do actually enjoy beer that is not yellow and fizzy but it is always a hazard to my well being because of the unpredictable alcohol content.

I had only meant to have one beer here and make it back home for my nap and dinner but their menu had a 'cuban ruban' that sounded to good to pass up. Seriously, ham, corned beef and pickles; who cold say no to that?

Another tasty hoppy beer makes me a happy, happy man. After this I bugged out of the nice bar and made my way to one of my favorite bars in the city for cheap drinks.

Drink number 4 brings us to the Bob Inn which I find to be a much more comfortable bar, beers cheaper as well.

Books and beer, two great tastes that taste great together. My notes indicate that at this time the bar was starting to be invaded by hipsters.

Number 6 and I decide to start drinking water with my booze to stave off a hangover the next day. If only this plan had worked. Notes indicate happiness that a more attractive bartender came in, the hipsters are apparently not a bother now.

#7 and friends have shown up, I am no longer drinking alone. It is decided I am aiming for at least 15 drinks to make tonight an epic not to be forgotten. I question this choice.

Number 8, I realize that these all look the same but trust me on this they where all fresh beers; I know this because of how shitty I felt this morning.

Number 9 is a completely unremarkable beer.

This may look like it's not a drink but it is. The delicious cupcake exterior hides an inner evil, that little fucker is chock full of whiskey making drink number 10 kinda not a drink...

Here comes trouble, number 11 puts us into shot territory, say hello to my old friend Malort.

No, that is not my hand.

This is my hand, and drink number 13, they are friends.

14 and 15 are friends too. Malort and cheap beer, it's what makes Chicago great. My goal is met, a smart man would have stopped here but I have never claimed to be smart, not to mention this blog would be a lot less interesting if I where.

A lonely number 16 and out last beer at the Bob Inn, after this I was pilled into several cabs and taken to a bar who's name I always forget but has cheap Guiness.

Irish whiskey and Irish beer make DUG a happy man, a very drunk man but happy nonetheless. Notes at this time indicate that we all became fixated on the word shitidiot and determined that The Eagles ruin everything. I also apparenlty preached wisdom... I am not sure what this means or what I said.

To be perfectly honest I have no idea if this was an additional round or just K hamming it up with the previous round... I am saying it's an aditional round of shots because that would make this shot number 19 for me which would bring us to...

Number 20! 20 drinks in one night is alot of booze.... after this one I staggered out into the night, and a cab and made it back home where I slept with my shoes on for some portion of the night.

Yeah, I know it might not be a legit 20 but it's till a fairly epic night and man was it fun. Other notes indicate that at some point K had my bike lights in her mouth...

Man, there has to be an easier whay to put picture heavy updates up on this site... this freakin' thing took more then an hour to do; fuck that!

Friday, October 2, 2009

And so it begins...

So in what may be the most ambitious, and likely to fail, project I have ever started I am planning to take a picture of every drink I consume from Oct. 1 to Oct. 31; or at least the ones I am sober enough to remember to photograph... Last night was the start and it was pretty epic; as the pictures will show. I feel this will be either entertaining or depressing...

First drink of the month/day/night, sweet, sweet dollar beers!

Next came a Natty Ice, hey a man takes what a man can get for a dollar!

Drink #3 and we're back to good old hipster beer and the bartender starts to get surly; this trend continues through the night.

Numbers four and five, a cool refreshing beer and a shot of Malort. If you don't know what Malort is go google it, drink it and report back. At this point I start to keep a journal which I plan to maintain for the whole project, I think. Notable entries around this time have to do with killing a rooster... how do I even end up in these conversations?

Number 6; according to my notes I am upset that the jukebox is not playing my songs. My songs are better then the shitty songs playing now, who the fuck are these people to play this SHIT!?

Number 7; bitch stole my popcorn!

Number 8 was an 'experimental' cocktail that, combined with another not pictured shall count as one drink. They where both very sweet and did nothing to dispel my feelings about blue drinks.

Number 9, more sweet, sweet Malort.

A cruel double team, a new PBR and another shot of Malort forced upon me by the bartender, this makes 11. Notes indicate I like the Rolling Stones, I recognize this is a bad idea and funny hates make me happy. It's getting hard to read the writing.

And we wrap the evening up at 12 drinks with another Malort and notes indicate I was very upset over music on the jukebox and a complete awareness I was not going to understand my notes.

These where the notes for the night, and no, I didn't draw the picture but I do wish I had that much talent.