Nick's Top 10 List

This one is for the ladies. With all due respect to David Letterman I will now give you Nick’s top 10 ways to tell if your boyfriend – husband – sex partner is a tool.

10. He giggles every time the number 69 is mentioned.

9. When you meet him and ask if he has any kids he says, “None that I know of.”

8. Has a sticker on the back of his truck that has a little boy in a Chevy hat pissing on a Ford hat.

7. He liked the movie The Fast and the Furious.

6. He has a golden horn chain around his neck and he wears a wife beater.

5. He likes to bash Gays by calling them fags, queers or butt pirates.

4. He watches Wrestling and thinks it is real.

3. After every beer he drinks, he flexes his muscles.

2. He shows no displays of public affection.

1. He owns more Guns than books.

Ladies, if your mate has any of these qualities, do yourself a favor and dump their ass before they get to chance to knock you up and not pay child support.

Boys Of Summer

For me there is no better time of the year than now. For in less than one week the new baseball season will be under way. Baseball is my religion. I simply love the game and every year around this time I get as excited as Bill Clinton at the Miss America Pageant. I usually take the first week of the season off and hit a Cub s game. This year I am taking the week of the 11^th off and am hitting the Cubs-Padres game on the 12^th.

On top of all of that I have my baseball draft this Saturday. Yes, I am enough of a geek that I am in Fantasy baseball league. I have won the league two out of the last three years. The draft is the day that we pick our players for the season. I am studying depth charts, spring training injury reports and position battles like it is finals week in college. The draft is my favorite time of the whole season.

It takes place at my friend Rob’s house. We get there a little early to barbeque and bitch about rule changes and complaints from the previous year. After that the shit talking and the draft starts. It is usually the only time all ten of us are together for the entire season. I excel in the art of trash talking so, I lay it on pretty thick. I usually sit in the corner with my friend Chuck and we laugh at all the picks that we disagree with. (Such as a certain owner drafting Hideo Nomo in the second round last year.) Then when it is all said and done I analyze it and go over what I did right and wrong.

This will be the second season that I run the league. I used to do it back in the early 90’s but I got tired of dealing with all the headaches that go along with it. So, Chuck took over for six years and then he started having kids so, he didn’t really have time to do it. So, not trusting anyone else to run it, I again took the reigns and again am in charge of the league. My duties include collecting money, keeping the website updated, settling arguments, and most importantly following DL moves. It is almost like a non-paying part time job. The benefit is that by running the league you get to know players better and it gives you somewhat of an advantage. With all that said, I still wish I didn’t have to do it.

However, I love getting on the train each morning and turning to the baseball pages and checking the box scores. Analyzing box scores is something I’ve done from an early age and is a must for any good fantasy baseball owner. Baseball is a marathon season and it takes dedication to keep up with it. On top of box scores I catch Baseball Tonight on ESPN almost every night to try to get as much inside information as I can. My friends I go to lunch with at work call me Rainman with my ability to remember players and stats from past era’s.

Opening Day is better than any other day of the year, even the Superbowl. It takes me back to when I was a kid. I can remember watching Ivan DeJesus winning the 80 opener with a base hit in the 10^th. Than in 1985 going to opening day to watch Rick Sutcliffe pitch eight brilliant innings and the Cubs winning a 2-1 game against the Pirates. Or, Mitch Williams walking the bases loaded in the ninth only to strikeout three consecutive Phillies to win the 89 opener. Or in 2003 as a sign of things to come Corey Patterson hitting two home runs as the Cubs started their roll to the division title.

So, as I said I am in deep thought and trying to find this years Oliver Perez. Hopefully, I can do something I’ve never done and repeat as champion. I’ve won the league four separate times but never repeated. To all my fellow owners I wish you all luck. I look forward to another fun season.

Docker's Shopping

As most men I know do, I hate shopping for clothes. I could care less about what covers my bare ass and if it were up to me I’d wear a flannel shirt and a pair of jeans all the time. However, my job requires me to dress “business casual”, so I have to purchase my share of Dockers and dress shirts. Last Friday my wife decided for me that I needed to get some new clothes so we were off to the mall.

Being brainwashed by my father at a young age, I always hit Sears first. I then will hit Kohl’s if I don’t like Sears selection or price. So, we hit Sears and nothing there wowed me so, we went into the mall surprised to find that Sears had a clothing outlet open in a previously empty storefront. With my being a miser and with the offer of up to 70% off, I entered the store. It was mostly women’s cloths but I did find a selection of men’s dress shirts that were pretty nice. I found two in fact, and for eight bucks each. So, I was sold and I then proceeded to brave the line.

I soon found my bargain while not costing me money was going to cost me in gray hair. The outlet store had one register open. A twelve year old named Alex was manning the register. Alex moved a little slower than a tortoise. As I entered the line I knew I was doomed. First off it started back in the parking lot. Second it was all women in front of me and they all had like fifty items. It was crunch time and I had to make a decision. Was the savings worth my time? Since, it was Good Friday and I had gotten out of work early I figured what the hell, I would wait it out. That would be a mistake.

When I say it took a half hour to check out I am not exaggerating. Joyce circled the store twice and tried on some cloths all while I was in line. Part of it was Alex, the register monkey’s doing. The other problem was that the women in front of me were dumber than a bag of hammers. One lady had about ten shirts. Each of them was marked $7.00 but was 30% off. Now, I am no math major but simple arithmetic tells me that since 70 cents is 10% of $7.00 dollars, if you multiply 70 cents by 3 you are going to come up with $2.10. So if you subtract that from $7.00 you wind of with a total of $5.90. However, the Darwin Award Winner in front of me had to ask Alex after each item how much it cost. The answer was always the same, $5.90.

Another lovely woman had numerous different items. She asked Alex how much each item rang up for. At that point she would ponder if she indeed wanted it. Obviously she could care less that she was wasting everyone who was in back of her fat ass, time. At this point I was seeing red and I had steam coming out of my ears I was so pissed. By the time the lunar eclipse came and I got to the front of line I knew I should have just paid full price. I guess in the end I never learn. My faith in my common man continues to erode.

Sadly, most experiences dealing with the public are maddening. So, many are so self absorbed that they are oblivious to how their rudeness is affecting others. I hate wasting others time. I don’t go in the express lane with more than ten items. I don’t bitch if a bag of chips rings up for 5 cents more than it was posted. And, if I am shopping I move my cart if I am blocking the aisle. Sadly, it seems I am in the minority. I’m not sure when these behaviors became atypical but, I blame society as a whole.

We have accepted rude moronic behavior as the norm. Slowly, somehow the jerks rule the world. No one seems to care anymore about anyone other than themselves. What the rest of us in a civilized society can do about, I do not know. All I can do is my little part. So, I urge all who read this, be aware of others. Their time is just as important as yours. Next time you get overcharged for a box of Ding Dongs, just have the item removed. Your hips and thighs will thank you for it later.

Beware Of A Giant Rabbit Bearing Peeps

This Sunday is Easter. I have always felt that Easter was the lamest of all the holidays. I admit, the reasons I feel this way are mostly selfish, but hey there are my feelings. The biggest bitch I have about Easter is that I don’t get any time off work for it. To, me if it is a real holiday than by all means somewhere in there I should get a day off of work for it. (I work for a bank so; we don’t get Good Friday off. On another note why is it called Good Friday when Jesus died on that day? Shouldn’t it be called Bad Friday)? Easter, falling on a Sunday means I don’t get to have a paid day off.

Also, by falling on a Sunday it means that I don’t have any time to recover before facing the corporate hellhole the next day. My Easter will start by getting my ass up at 7:00 in the morning. I have to then drive into the city to attend church with my in-laws. While, I despise going to church and feel like the biggest hypocrite in the world going, I realize that it is important to my wife so I go. And really, it’s only an hour I can do almost anything for an hour. (I said almost.)

Then it is on to brunch with Joyce and her family. I am not sure where we are going yet but I am sure it will be lovely. After brunch and waiting for my wife to cut her sisters hair we will be off to Westmont to my Aunt Kathy’s house. My mom, step-dad, brother, and my Aunt’s family will all be in attendance. I believe my Aunt is making both a Ham and a Turkey for the event. So, we will eat dinner there, yuk it up for awhile before heading off for desert at my other Aunt’s house in Bridgeview.

My Dad’s side of the family is celebrating at my Aunt Joanne’s house and we usually just pop in, grab a piece of lamb cake and some Jell-O. Of course the hidden egg ritual is still in full effect and even though I am thirty-five my Aunt still hides an egg for me. The day usually ends sometime after 8 in the evening and by that time I will have hit the wall and just want to relax.

As much as I may complain about the family stuff I don’t mind it. It’s the holiday itself that I find lame. I guess I just mind the travel and hectic-ness of it all. But, I’m sure one day as my family gets older I will miss these times so, I try to enjoy them as much as my cynical ass can. Easter in and of itself is a whole other matter.

Again, I am not a religious man. I don’t believe in any of it anymore. As much as people close to me still believe in the rituals and pageantry of the Catholic Church, I just don’t buy it. However, I do respect others beliefs, I just hope that others can accept mine. The whole lent nonsense to me is pointless. To base your entrance into heaven as to when you consume meat is a waste of time. I would like to believe that if there is a God there might be other factors that you will be judged on. Also, I never understood the whole Easter Bunny, coloring eggs thing. I get Santa and his myth. Some magical giant bunny that goes around hiding eggs and filling baskets with marshmallow peeps I just don’t get.

But, I guess live and let live. If you get something out of Easter, more power to you. I realize that again, I am pretty lucky in that I actually have three sets of family that look forward to seeing me when many more people have no one to spend the day with. So, in that light I can put up with some minor inconveniences. Plus, the next major holiday is not for eight months. Maybe Easter isn’t that bad after all.

Pop The Corn

I recently rejoined netflix.com. This is my third time being a netflix member. While I enjoy being a member and watching the movies it was just that sometimes I didn’t have enough time to watch the movies I has rented. So, here is a brief summary of the first couple of films I’ve seen.

Napoleon Dynamite- I had heard from both ends of the spectrum on this one. Some I knew loved it and others hated it. So, I was anxious to judge for myself. I wound up liking the movie. If you are looking for a movie with a great plot, well, than this is not the movie for you. If you like interesting characters that can make you laugh, well than this is the type of film you may enjoy. ***1/2 stars

The Butterfly Effect- I am not a huge Ashton Kuchner fan so I avoided this movie. However, a friend recommended it to me, so I gave it a try. While I did not really like the movie I did like the idea behind it. I’ve always thought about how one decision life affects so many others. For instance, if IBM never takes over support at Monsanto, I don’t leave for Harris Bank and I don’t meet my wife. This film examines those types of things but, lamely. So overall I give it ** stars.

The Incrediblies- I had heard a lot of good buzz on this one and I was anxious to go see it. I was going to catch it in the theaters but, time constrains caused me to miss it. All I can say is that for a kids cartoon movie it is pretty good. Sure there is some cringe inducing moments but hey, I can forgive them. Overall, a funny movie that I am sure will spawn a couple of sequels. Plus having Jason Lee as the voice as the villain does not hurt. *** stars.

Dawn of The Dead- I am a huge fan of the original 1978 George Romero classic. So, I was very hesitant about this film. I for one saw no way anyone could improve on the original so, I felt why even try. With all that said as far as horror movies go, I felt this was pretty good. Not great but a slight thumbs up. It didn’t suck but it in no ways measures up to the original. **1/2 stars.

The Curve- Based on the recommendation of a friend I gave this a try. Well, this is one to miss. I don’t’ want to give away any of the so-called plot. It did have Matthew Lillard who played a great asshole but that was really the only thing I liked about it. Rent Wild Things if you enjoy movies with plot twists and turns. This is just a cheap crappy knock off. * star.

I have Outfoxed, Ray and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, at home. So wish me luck. If anyone has any recommendations please I am always willing to listen as I can sit through almost any non Meg Ryan film.

Right To Die

It is no secret that I am a card-carrying bleeding heart liberal. Contrary to what the right may want you to think there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Conservatives have done a great job in associating the word liberal with evil, do-gooders who want to take all your money for taxes and have the government run everything. Trust me we don’t want to do that. But, I digress.

I try to keep this blog somewhat politics free. Sure my leftist anti-Bush leanings will inevitably come out through osmosis but I try to make a conscious effort to not make this a political forum. I realize as hard as I try some people are going to see things differently. While, I strongly may disagree with them, I don’t want to force my will onto them. (Like the Republicans do.)

However, the case of Terry Schiavo has raised the level of anger in my blood to boiling. So, therefore I must spew out onto this keyboard how pissed off and how hypocritical I feel the right is being on this issue. (As they are on so many, but this one in particular.)

Like I said I am a Democrat. I understand the Republican viewpoints. They want a smaller government, lower taxes, and individual responsibility. While I disagree on some of those principles I do agree with others. However, in my opinion I think the NRA and religious right has taken over that party and therefore I cannot sit idly by while my country continues to cow tail to the Pat Robertson and Robert Reed’s of the world.

It seems the right wants a small government and for it to stay out of affairs only when it suits them. When it comes to a woman’s uterus, the right to die or school prayer, than they feel the government should get involved. For anyone who has read the paper or turned on the news you all know about the case of Terry Schiavo. So, I will not bother to go over the details. What I would like to discuss and get an answer to is why did the federal government get involved in this?

George Bush flew from his precious ranch in Texas to intervene in the case. He forced his will and his parties will into a private legal matter. This is contrary to the entire small government philosophy the right preaches. What makes it all the more puzzling is that in 1999 then Gov. Bush signed a right to die bill into law in Texas. In that bill the spouse was given the authority to terminate a patient’s life if medical evidence showed the patient had no hope for a recovery. Hmm, this almost sounds like a flip-flop.

You know what really boggles my mind, is that if heaven is such a great place and you are so sure of God’s existence than wouldn’t you want someone who is living in a vegetative state to die with a little dignity and start the afterlife with your Lord and savior? This is why I am going to get a living will. There is no way I would ever want to be kept alive in that manner. If I have no chance of recovery than I want that plug pulled. Terry Schiavo told her husband the same thing. Who do you think she confided in more? Her husband who she loved and loved her back and she spent every day of her life with or her parents?

I do not doubt that her parents love their daughter and do not want to see her go. But, I do believe they are putting their own feelings ahead of their daughters. Only a spouse knows the utmost intimate details of their partner’s life. I truly believe her husband when he maintains that she did not want to be kept alive this way.

I just read a great book by Christine Todd Whitman, called It’s My Party Too. It is basically about how the Christian right has taken over the Republican Party and how they are holding the party hostage. The Christian right is an organized, scary, group. The unfortunate thing is that us on the other end are not nearly as organized. Somehow, someway we need to stand up to the right to lifers and religious zealots. Freedom of religion means we are free to be atheists if we want, even if we are not in the majority. Moral laws based on faith have no business being included in a “Small Government.”

Let's Vent Again

I have an endless supply of vents as everyday life leads me to see more and more things that piss me off so here we go again.

Credit Card Abusers- Now, I use my debit card to make purchases all the time. I enjoy the speed and convince of it. However, if the purchase is under $5 bucks, pay with fucking cash. I was in line to buy a bagel and this lady in front of me purchased a muffin. It came to $1.75 and she whipped out a visa. That is just ridicules. I’m sorry have a couple of bucks in your wallet for God’s sake. All of this leads me to my next vent.

Writing Checks for Groceries – There is absolutely no excuse to write a check at the grocery store any more. As a matter of fact they should stop allowing it. Or better yet, open one lane for check writers and every other lane for forward thinking, reasonable people. Make these check writers wait in their own line and stop wasting the rest of societies time.

Lite Beer Commercials – Remember back in the day when Rodney Dangerfield and John Madden would do those Lite beer commercials? They were actually pretty funny. Sure the beer sucked but I would look past that and laugh at the antics of the guys in the ad’s. Well, Lite’s new campaign is touting how great Lite tastes compared to other beer. I don’t know anyone who actually likes the taste of Lite and has a penis. It is swill pure and simple. If you looked up the word hypocrisy in the dictionary there would be a picture of Lite beer.

People Who use the Ass Guards in Public Toilets – There has never in the history of the world been a case where a person has caught anything from a toilet seat. Never. Nada. So, for all these germ-a-phobic, get a fucking life, take a chance once in a while and sit your precious dirty anus on a public toilet seat. How did we ever live past 30 in the 1970’s without ass guards?

Aerosmith – The level I hate this band is beyond nuclear. There are so many things to hate about these posers I cannot list them all. They had a couple of tunes in the 70’s that were mildly listenable. That’s it. They should have stayed with that and went away like all those other shit bands did, but no America you made these guys think they were better than they were. Angel, Don’t want to miss a Thing, Dude looks like a lady, Janie’s got a gun, Love in a elevator, all of that crap is a fucking disgrace. It’s shit “music.” Get the fuck off the stage already and give someone else a chance. Stephen Tyler needs to just go far, far away. Listen you stole your whole act from Mick Jager. You are a fraud and a waste of sperm. You have added nothing to society. I beg you for the good of the land, shut up, retire and collect your royalty checks in peace and stop inflicting society with your nonsense.

People who go to Psychics – I hate to ruin the illusion but it is all bullshit. If you actually believe this nonsense than I have some land in the Everglades to sell you. For the life of me I cannot understand why anyone would spend hard earned money, to talk to a dead relative or to have their future told to them. They are selling snake oil and duping the easily duped. You want to ensure your future, go out get a job, work your ass off and stop giving money to charlatans who are robbing you blind.

People who Don’t Clean Up After Themselves – You go to your local Wendy’s or God help you, Starbuck’s and you go to find a table to sit down at. You see one with half eaten food, dirty napkins and a sweating coca-cola. It seems some moron has eaten his or her meal and left the garbage out to rot on the table. It is simple courtesy and politeness to clean up after your self. Not throwing away your own trash after eating is the utmost in rude and selfish behavior. By doing so, you are letting the rest of the establishment smell your rotting food and you are making the fifteen year old who earns minimum wage to clean up after your nasty ass. Maybe these dolts are used to having their mommies pick up after them but whatever the excuse is it is not good enough for me.

People Who Use Their Cell Phones As Fashion Accessories – Anyone who gets a personalized phone case or who walks around feeling self-important with their cell phone attached to their belt buckle needs to be shot. Listen, you pathetic single IQ dolt, everybody has a cell phone. No one needs to see you American Flag cell phone cover. By proudly displaying it you are letting everyone know just how big of a loser you really are. For that matter, anyone who plays music instead of just letting the phone ring is also lame. Nothing is more grating than hearing a bad Casio knockoff ring tone to “Play That Funky Music.” Trust me anyone who does that indeed has no funk but is definitely white.

Parrot Heads – There is no one more undeserving of praise than Jimmy Buffet. He is the lamest, whitest, sappiest, artist working. These easily duped morons who worship at his billionaire alter are the worst. Is music sucks, his margaritas are shit, and his burger in paradise is over-priced dog food. Yes, sitting out at a beach drinking Pina Colata’s is great, however his music does not have a patent on the lifestyle. The guy is a complete dick who sues anyone who tries to sample his music. And by the way you’re not hip or young or different if you follow this guy. You are just a suburban white yuppie.

Different Bank, Same Shit

The following is the final in a series of blog's celebrating my 20 years in the work force. Each Thursday, I updated this site with the latest installment.

My current stop on the job market has taken me to Bank One. (Now JP Morgan Chase after the merger.) I started here in May 2003. Which means I will be “celebrating” my two-year anniversary at the bank soon. My job here is the best job I’ve ever had and the worst job I’ve ever had. It offers me security, great benefits, and I make a decent enough wage. However, the red tape and insane processes one must go through make it the worst.

I got my job here by a pure fluke. Chuck is a friend I met in high school. I was a groomsman in his wedding and he was one in mine. I had gotten him a job at Kmart way back in the day so, in theory he owed me. One day I was on the train complaining about Harris and the outsourcing and I asked him if Bank One had any openings. He looked into it for me and told me there was one and to e-mail him my resume. I interviewed at Bank One and after a month of blowing some smoke up some people’s asses, I was offered the job. I would be a Lan Analyst. I would be doing pretty much the same thing as I did at Harris.

Bank One was similar yet different than Harris. Both companies were big banks that stressed money and the bottom line over all else. Both had a ton of red tape to maneuver around if you wanted anything done. Just like at Harris I had six bosses. However, Bank One was a real company. Harris is in Chicago and that is about it. Bank One was everywhere. They think big and are big. Harris thinks small and well, remains small. The best thing I could say about Bank One is that they believe outsourcing is a bad business move. Something I whole heartily agree with.

However, I support an area of the Bank that I hate and most days want to crucify these assholes. Unfortunately, I just take their shit with a smile while all the time despising myself for being such a pussy and not telling these yuppies where to go. But, hey I have a mortgage now so I have to take it.

The reasons I hate my area are many. First of all the entire area is lily white. I support three, minorities in the entire area. Two are secretaries and the other is an intern. The rest of them are as white as Pat Buchanan’s ass. No Latin’s, Asian’s or Indian’s. I would not have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes. This sucks because rich, white 30 something’s are the worst creations walking this planet. Spoiled, un-original, and lame are just some of the adjectives I would use to describe these nimrods. After eight hours with these people I am ready for a gun purchase.

I go above and beyond the call but it does not matter. They do not have a life and expect me not to have one either. At some point I realize something is going to give. I just go in day in day out and hope for the best. In this job market, I really have no choice. And, you wonder why I am bitter.

I know a lot of people have it a lot worse than I do so I don’t want to sound as if I am whining. In truth other than occasional Playboy photographer or drug dealer most people hate their jobs. I think I finally realized that your job is just that, a job. It is not your life and it is not ordained that you have to love it. All one really has to do is be able to tolerate it. So, I guess I do that. I rarely take it home with me. Leaving those work problems at the door is a hard thing to do but I am usually pretty good about it. Twenty years ago if you told me that I would be working at Bank One in the Information Technology area I would have told you were nuts. But, here I am.

What the future holds for I am not sure. Part of me wants to have the balls to re-invent myself and try some other career. Another part of me is content where I am at and likes the stability and security I have at Bank One. I have a 401K and am eligible for a pension. The more years I put in, the higher it goes. I also have shares of Bank stock that I will be able to cash in. So, I figure another twenty five to thirty years until I retire. I think I can make it.

As a footnote, as I posted this, I just found out that they were cutting 30% of the IT workforce at the merged bank. Thankfully, I was saved but two good teammates of mine were not so lucky. Life goes on in the corprate hell hole.

Happy Holiday's

For those not of the Italian and Polish heritage this Saturday is St. Joseph’s day. Unfortunately the day gets lost in all the drunken Irishmen’s hoopla over St. Patrick’s Day two days earlier. As I have stated before I am not a religious man. However, in my younger years on St. Patty’s day I would celebrate like my last name started with an O’. Then I would attend my Grandma’s St. Joseph’s day table in the basement of St. Albert’s church.

St. Patrick’s day used to a big deal to me. I skipped school on several occasions to hit the parade downtown and I have hit the much better South Side Irish Parade on Western many times. My favorite St. Patrick’s Day would have to be the P.J. Flaherty’s experience. I can’t remember what year it was but I was in my early twenties. My friends Rob, Dell and I were bemoaning the fact that there did not seem to be much going on for that year’s event. The “holiday” fell on a Thursday so, the festivities were a bit tempered. Still, we decided without much of an agenda for the evening that the three of us would go out and grab a beer.

So, we meet at Dell’s house and after debating what bar to hit someone suggested P.J. Flaherty’s. Flaherty’s is a south side legend. It was a gigantic bar located in Evergreen Park on Western Ave. It was huge and had two floors, a gigantic stage, three different bars, and a number of side rooms. I loved the place and to this day it is still my favorite bar of all time. I saw a ton of great bands and had a ton of fun there. So, we head again to just “grab a beer.”

As soon as we walk in we find a number of friends who we had no idea would be there, were in fact there and way ahead of us in the inebriation department. Our friend Kevin was sitting by the bar enjoying a cold one all by himself like a barfly at Moe’s. We ran into Brian Janey, and this girl Lydia we used to hang around with. She has all of her posse with her as well. A Beatle’s tribute band was playing and before you knew it we were closing out the bar at 2 AM. We then head out and grab a burrito. I didn’t walk in the door until the sun was up; meanwhile, I have to be at work at 8 AM.

Being young, and stupid I decide I can make it without sleeping. I also, forgot to change cloths, as I was still most likely intoxicated. I stumble to the train, make it downtown and proceeded to spend the longest eight hours of my life at work. It was what I used to call a Clooney day. Meaning I am on ER, I only leave this chair if it is an Emergency. Looking back I recall that night as one of those great times with much nostalgia. It was a great time in my life and I had so many nights just like that. But I digress.

St. Joseph’s day was always spent in the basement of St. Al’s eating my Grandma’s spaghetti and yucking up with the relatives. Many times it would be the first time I had seen most of them since Christmas. However, it was always the day before that brought anxiety.

Somehow I became elected to be the official transporter of the St. Joseph statue from my Grandma’s shrine to him in her spare bedroom to the church basement. This was done the Saturday before the event was to take place. Over the years I recruited my brother and many friends to help with the precious move. The statue has to be at least 80 years old and is in serious need of a make over. It is not really heavy but is awkward and requires care since it is very brittle. My Grandma even had a special sleeping bag to place him in. The statue is about four feet high and has St. Joe holding a baby Jesus.

I had many trials and tribulations transporting that statue over the years. One year my friend Chuck and I were moving it and somehow in transit baby Jesus’ foot broke off. So, for anyone interested Chuck and I plan on meeting in the far southwest corner of hell when we get there. You would think that would be the worst thing to happen but, I can’t say that it was.

One year I roped my friend Rob into helping me. We get there and realize a wedding is taking place. We get to the church just as the limo with the bridal party arrives. So, we wait while all the bridesmaids get out and scurry into the church. We than carry the statue inside once the coast is clear. Once the delivery is made, Rob and I began to have a conversation on our way out of the basement, which went something like this.

Nick: Did you see some of those bridesmaids?

Rob: Ya

Nick: I like to bend that blonde over

Rob: Ya, there were a couple that were hot.

It was at this point that we get to the top of the stairs to see the bride standing there with her father waiting to walk down the aisle. It was obvious that they heard every word that we said as Rob and I turn ten shades of red. I am sure as a little girl she dreamed of starting out her wedding day that way. Again, southwest corner of hell, everyone.

This year, I will spend both of these days somewhat subdued. I stopped going out on St. Patrick’s Day when I realized it was amateur night. My Grandma now has a muted celebration at her house as opposed to at the church. Still, as the calendar turns to March I seem to always draw onto those memories.

The Fairer Sex

I am currently thirty-five years old. I am here to admit that I don’t any more about women today than I did twenty years ago. Every time I think I have them figured out I realize that I don’t. This is one of the reasons I was single until I was thirty-three. I wanted a woman who while looking like a female acted like a man. I expected my girlfriend to like the same things I did, and could not fathom when they didn’t. It wasn’t until I realized that we are different that I was able to actually be happy in a relationship.

Talking about the differences between men and women is like shooting fish in a barrel. It is easy and the lamest and un-funniest comics excel in it. So, I tread to this blog carefully. I don’t want this to come off as a women suck diatribe. I love and respect all women, with the exception of Ann Coulter.

To start off with I don’t want this to come off as an indictment against my wife. Every woman I’ve ever known has acted these ways. Joyce does not have all of these characteristics and I am of course stereotyping to emphasize my point. Stereotypes are based on truisms; if they weren’t then they would never become stereotypes. So with that legality out of the way here I go.

As a man, I don’t get over emotional, illogical, or like Oprah. I can sit in a room, watch a program and not feel the need to talk about my day. I don’t watch cooking shows, I am not catty, and I don’t find babies that aren’t mine very interesting. I hate American Idol, I don’t spend more than ten bucks on a hair cut, and I don’t feel the need to pick up the phone every time a thought pops in my head. So, therefore I find it hard to actually think like a woman. I try to anticipate how they will react and I always fail.

I realize I am doomed as all men are but yet I still try. I think the hardest part is communicating with them. I work for a woman boss and trying to figure out her mood swings is a futile experience. One day she is laughing and joking with us, the next she is on the warpath and will explode over the littlest thing. It seems to me that men will say one thing and women will hear another. Here is an example.

I could say, “You look very nice today”, to a woman. To me that is a compliment. To a female that means, I must look like shit the other 364 days of the year. So, I just get to the point where I stop trying. I just put my head down and continue the struggle. I remember when I was younger, I would sit back and watch these guys who were complete assholes and women would be all over them. I guess it stems from the fact that women think they can change a man. If a woman is treating me like shit I broom her ass and move on.

Don’t get me wrong. As a man I am the first to say we need women. I often wonder how the hell I survived without my wife. She adds that woman’s touch to so many things in my life that I never even thought about. Before, I met my wife I was sleeping on a mattress on the floor, eating pizza six days a week, and buying a new pack of socks as opposed to doing a wash. My furniture didn’t match, I dressed like a slob, and my idea of quality time was drinking cheap beer on a Thursday night with the boys. She has enhanced my life in her way and made me see that as a man I should just take her advice on a myriad of subjects.

All men need a good woman just so we can make it past age forty. I’ve cleaned up my act and thank god I did. So, of course all the trials with women are worth it in the end. I know as a man I am doomed to fail when it comes to co-existing with them. All I can hope for is that I don’t say or do the wrong thing. That is what my married friends always are emphasizing. Our whole existence is to not piss our wives off. It’s not worth it in the end.

So, I don’t turn my head any more when I see an attractive woman. I look women in the eye when I talk to them know as opposed to staring at their breasts. I hold doors open, and try as best I can to treat woman with the respect they deserve. Testosterone is a very powerful thing and sometimes it is hard to overcome its power. To any woman reading this, have patience with us. I know we are clueless but damn it at least we can kill that spider in the bathtub for you when you ask us.

Roid Rage

Later on this week Congress will be hearing testimony from many baseball players who are somehow connected to the steroids controversy. Jose Canseco, Mark McGwire, Frank Thomas, Sammy Sosa, and Curt Schilling are just some of the names that have been subpoenaed. All of this to me is just one big dog and pony show.

First off, with all the problems that plague this country for congress to waste more than five minutes on this subject is a load of crap. I am a baseball fan. I am not stupid. I’ve always assumed that ball players took roids. I could care less if they do. Steroids are illegal in this country and therefore banned from the game. Let me be the first to say that they should not be.

Steroids should not be classified in the same terms as heroin, crack or cocaine. If you use steroids wisely and under a doctor’s supervision they can help you. It’s like anything else, if used in moderation it won’t hurt you. If you overload on them, then you risk long-term health issues. If a ball player chooses to inject themselves with steroids it is their body and I for one am not going to tell them what to do with it.

People are going to come at me with a million arguments against the use of roids. There are millions of dollars at stake here. Let’s say someone told you that by taking steroids for a couple of years in moderation the end result would be that you would land a contract worth 100 million dollars. Would you really not take them? I for one would be first in line. Let’s see here, you get to play ball for a living, have guiltless sex with ballpark Betty’s, get treated like a star, and make more money than God. What again is the drawback? Oh, my balls may get smaller and I might have some rage issues. Big freaking deal.

Now, if someone is taking them just to pump up then that is moronic. If vanity is your only goal then well you deserve what you get by over using them. But if you want to enhance performance than they are effective. Baseball players have been doing this since the 50’s. They used to take Amphetamines back in the day. In Jim Boutan’s great book, Ball Four he tells story after story about how players used to take “greenies” to get some extra zip on their fastball. So, I don’t want to hear how pure the game was back in the day crap. It’s always been tainted.

So, for congress to now step in and claim mortal outrage is the ultimate in foolishness. Other than creating a stir just what do they hope to accomplish by having these ballplayers testify? Also, why are only baseball players being called? Are you going to tell me football players are not juicing up? Why is baseball the only sport being picked on? Trust me this all about politics and getting some recognition. It is a complete waste of time and energy.

So I say supply all trainers in Major League Baseball with training on how to effectively and safely administer steroids. Any player who wants to take them can legally go to the trainer and they can administer them. This way the players are being supervised with their usage and we can avoid over using them as obviously a McGwire and Sosa did. Sure steroids are dangerous and that is all the more reason why they need to be supervised. Abstinence never works and anytime it is used as policy it will be taken advantage of.

South Side: Represent

Before my wife and I ever agreed to get married we had one major obstacle to climb. I am a born and bred south sider. I love the south side with every ounce of my being. Sure, I am a Cub fan but, that was simply because I was raised as one. Everything else about me is south side. My wife was a city girl, a north side city girl to be exact.

Since we meet at work in the beginning it caused a little bit of a problem in that we lived so far away from each other. Joyce caught me at a bad time. I had just gotten back to the south side after living for a year in the Northwest suburbs. I was as happy as Tipper Gore at a NWA concert to be there. I hated it and was miserable. I learned something about myself in that time. I am a curmudgeon. I need to be by things and people that are familiar. I was always longing for a Dukes beef or a beer at B.J. McMahon’s the entire time I lived away from my roots.

Joyce grew up in the city. She had rarely been south of Madison in her life and it was quite a culture shock to come to my house. The thought of moving to the 'burbs was not really appealing to her. However, I know myself and I knew that I would never be happy being away from my area again. I basically had to let her know love me, love the southwest suburbs. It would be the biggest obstacle in our relationship but eventually over time she gave in and became a suburbanite.

That is not to say she doesn’t still miss the city. For taking her away from her roots, she has a lifetime of playing the, I moved for you card. I am powerless against her argument. Deep down though, she may not readily admit it, but she has grown to like the area. I mean I know I am a catch and all but, I am not that handsome where she would move to a place she hated just to be with my Italian ass.

Sure, the south side has its issues. It is in no way a perfect place to live. She has some points when she mentions our lack of Asian restaurants or how public transportation is a joke around us. Also, there are a still a lot of mullets still walking around the area. All of that is true. However, the advantages are plenty. We are not so far away from the city that we are in the sticks. I can get to downtown in fifteen to twenty minutes with no traffic on the Stevenson. We have parking at all of our stores and when you want to make a left we have these things called turning lanes. And, while we have a lot of mullets we don’t have as many yuppies.

I guess the point of it all is that one part of the city is not really any better than the other. It is all relative. I just love the South side because that is where I am from. Just as Joyce loves the city because that is what is familiar to her. I guess it is a little easier for me in that I work downtown so I get the best of both worlds. I get the city life during the day and then I can retire to the peacefulness of the ‘burbs when I go home.

Being a south-sider I have that chip on my shoulder attitude when I defend it like all of us do. We have a huge inferiority complex for whatever reason. I think it stems from being perceived as blue color, not hip or whatever. I am proud of those blue color roots. We have a work ethic on the south-side that has been inbred in all of us. Most of our families come from plumbers, electricians, truck drivers, phone repairmen or some other tradesmen. We are the glue to society. Not that there isn’t value to white color jobs but the great thing about being a blue color worker is you can see direct results from your work. When you snake a drain and unclog it there is a sense of accomplishment. Trust me after some lame ass team meeting you don’t get that feeling.

So, slowly I am turning my wife into a south-sider. I am sure I will never fully get that city blood out of her, and that is OK. I feel in love with her being a city girl and I would never want her to change that mentality. I don’t want this to come out as some anti-north side rant. However, I am proud of my south side heritage, and I know deep down that we have nothing to feel inferior about.

Lion Power

The following is part six in a series of blog's celebrating my 20 years in the work force. Each Thursday, I will update this site with the latest installment.

My next job would be at Harris Bank. I would work there from July of 98 until May of 2003. I almost made it five years. While I was at Harris I felt that I would retire there. I felt I had finally found a home. Unfortunately, they would pull the rug out from under me and outsource me. I owe a lot to Harris, as it is where I met my wife. However, the bitter taste I still have in my mouth after the way I was treated lingers.

When I was first hired, I was put on an Y2K team, which meant I was not going to be doing tickets for a while. My main job was going to consist of updating software on every pc located at every Harris Bank throughout Chicagoland. This was no small task. This consisted of over 8,000 computers. We had a team of five other consultants as well as two interns to do this. (My wife was one of those interns.) It was great in that I got to travel all around Chicago to do this. I would visit over 50 Harris Bank locations.

After the Y2K nonsense was over, my consulting contract was coming to an end. So, I was approached about coming on full time and becoming a Harris employee. So, I handed in my five-inch pumps and short mini skirt and folded up my tent on the corner under the red light. I had a home of my own. Overall, it was a good enough job. My boss was Frank. He was a mick in his early 30’s and actually had a brain in his head. He left us alone and was real easy to work for. However it wouldn’t last.

In my five years at Harris I would have eight different bosses. Some of them were cool and some of them simply sucked. That is one thing about corporate America, if you don’t like your boss, wait fifteen minutes and you will have a new one. I eventually was moved onto a team at an off site building. I pretty much put my head down and did my job.

Life at Harris was pretty good. I made some decent money, had great benefits and worked on a pretty good and competent team. All of this caused me to become quite comfortable. All my years consulting had taught me that the grass is always greener. I knew Harris had some issues but, there is no perfect job and I was pretty content at the bank so, I felt I had found my home. I often told co-workers that I was never going to leave Harris. They would have to get rid of me, which is exactly what they did.

I will describe this asshole in charge of IT, Don as best I can. He was a fat, Canadian, old fart who never worked a day in his life. He was the classic rich old white guy who was good at one thing, cutting expenses. He could not manage his way out of a paper bag and had the people skills of a donkey. I’ve seen mutes with better verbal skills. However, since he was a good moneyman he was put in charge of a service area. It did not matter that this guy had never in his life dealt with people and would not know the front line from the hole in his enormous ass. He was in charge.

Often he would have these all hands meetings. I would rather go the ballet than attend these meetings at which we are all made to feel like shit and be thankful we had jobs. This guy was about as popular as Jessie Jackson at Bob Jones University. Anyway, one day he calls for one of these meetings. He then said that in a move that was sure to further our careers, (I guess his definition of further is standing in the unemployment line) we were “partnering” with EDS. The weasel didn’t have the balls to say the words outsourcing. He assured us that this was a move that had to be done to fight costs.

He said the days of going to someone’s desk to fix problems were over and that it is too costly to do things that way. I guess I miss the point here. My logic, (again I am using logic in a corporate environment) states that if a user’s system is down, he or she is now unproductive and costing the bank valuable time and money. If I can get to that system and get it back up in a timely manner then, like a doctor I’ve stopped the bleeding. The user now goes back to work and the assembly line keeps producing widgets. Again, Don (who’s only real skill was being a miser) felt that we should be in the business of making the company money not providing good support. He actually said those words in a meeting. Basically he told us that all our past efforts and work were for nothing. We had to be sold off so the bank’s stock could go up a half a point and some rich motherfuckers could get even richer.

With this motivation I was as eager as a teamster working on a Sunday to do a good job. I could have cared less at this point. Having gone through all of this once already I knew what to expect. The same exact bullshit happened again. However, this time the outsourcing came when the market sucked. Thanks to corporate America laying of IT people, left and right the market smelled like Rosie O’Donnell’s armpits after a five-mile fun run. Therefore if I want to keep my job, I have to take EDS and Don’s bullshit or be out on my ass collecting unemployment. In layman’s terms this meant, thanks for your four years of hard work. Just bend over so I can stick this corporate dildo up your brown eye.

EDS’ shit was a huge pile of some steaming feces. When the deal was signed Harris, wanted the cheapest deal they could get. So, EDS offered them a bare bones support package. Which basically meant that no one would have a job after one year. Of course instead of EDS being up front and telling us this they beat around the bush. Every time we asked EDS how many people were going to stay on the contract they would tell us that they had to evaluate the site and work the numbers. They knew since The Mr. Potter’s (Harris Bank) wanted the cheapest support and that they singed the cheapest contract that they were not going to be able to keep anyone.

Seeing the writing was on the wall, I decided that it was time to move on. I knew everyone’s days were numbered and I starting calling my contacts. I eventually got out of there and just in the nick of time. I still have friends that work there (The few who EDS could not get rid of) and they tell me it is a living hell. They are all biding their time and waiting for the contract to run out.

I bled for Harris Bank. I did my best work there. I cared about that company and I wanted it to succeed. How I got re-paid for that loyalty has never sat well with me. I miss Harris Bank to this day. My current job is not nearly as fulfilling as my old one was. Those days are gone and I will always wonder what would have happened if I stayed at Harris and never been outsourced. I owe a lot to that place and I even though I work for a competing bank I still kind of root for them. Even after they way they treated me I still care. How pathetic is that?

The Chicago Illini?

I am a sports fan. I feel no shame in that. My main sport is baseball. I love the game and care about its health. I have always been a Cubs fan and will be until the day I die. Football, would be second on my list and the local team, the Bears are my favorites. Basketball has always been third or back in the 80’s during the days of the Black Hawk’s I would say basketball was fourth in my book.

I have grown to enjoy the game more and more and it probably was due to Michael Jordan. Once he came to town a bunch of borderline NBA fans became hardcore. I still follow the Bulls and as I stated in a previous blog, think they are on to something. However, I have always preferred college buckets to the pro game. In the college game they play team ball, the ref’s actually call traveling and the players all play defense. I grew up in the 80’s and back then De Paul was the team. I was a huge fan. Mark Aguirre, Terry Cummings, Skip Dillard, and Teddy Grubbs were players I grew up rooting for. The team was always ranked high going into the tournament only to lose early when it counted. Still though after all these years they are my team.

The De Paul program has not seen those glory in a long time. Currently Illinois is the number one team in the country. This has caused Chicago to go Illini crazy. I am truly happy for the team and hope they win it all. However, it would not break my heart if they lost in the first round either.

I am not going to kid others, and myself by pretending to be a fan of this team. Whenever a team becomes successful all the fair weather fans come out of the woodwork. To root for a team only when they are winning is lame. It says a lot about someone’s character to only root for the team when they are on top. As a Cub fan, I see these wanabe fans all the time and they make me want to puke. When the Cubs do win the World Series, I will enjoy on a level that the bandwagon jumpers will never understand.

These Illini frontrunners are now popping up all over the place. Illini gear is being sold everywhere. I saw some Illinois shirts for sale at Walgreen’s the other day. First off while Chicago is in Illinois, the college is located in Champaign. That is 200 miles away from Chicago. Indianapolis is just as close to us. Champaign is a two-horse one stop light town. I would rather go to Nebraska than go back and visit Champaign. Now, if you go to school there or went there you have every right to cheer the team. However, to call the Illini a Chicago team is ludicrous.

I should admit right off that I have my own issues with Illinois. For years De Paul has wanted to schedule Illinois but they won’t. The give some bullshit reason but I am sure it has to do with the fact that Illinois likes having the Chicago market and why risk losing any of it to De Paul. The Illini would kick De Paul’s ass but that does not seem to matter to the powers that be. So, because of this when Illinois lost this weekend I was not that upset over it. This team is over rated and there is no way they are going to win the tournament. The frontrunners will all be heart broken when that happens.

Again, I am not actively rooting against them. Illinois is still my favorite team in the big ten. However, Chicago should not be Illini territory. De Paul, Loyola, UIC, Chicago St, hell even Northwestern have more ties to the city than the Illini. With that said I will say go Illinois but I won’t shout it.

Pulaski Day

Most mornings on the train are a test of any sane man’s sanity. The dregs of society all seem to invoke their lame ass thoughts and opinions on to the rest of the train. So, after riding the Metra for over ten years I have become pretty much used to it. However, even I could not take it this morning.

I always sit in the third car from the rear upstairs. I have sat there for years. However, this morning the train stopped short so where I normally stand the fourth stood in front of me instead of the third car. I figured what the hell is the difference and preceded to take the road less traveled and change things up by sitting in the fourth car. That would be a mistake.

In a way I blame myself. It is Monday and if you are going to gamble on such things Monday probably is not the best day to do so. Anyway, as I made my way upstairs I saw an man and a woman in their mid forties. I thought nothing of them and sat down and opened the mornings Sun Times. Shortly after sitting down is when the banality began. It seems the woman had just purchased a copy of US weekly and the two decided it was time to discuss the magazine.

As I have stated in the past, I just don’t get why anyone gives a shit about celebrities. I mean, sure I have my favorite actors and will watch almost anything they do. Sean Penn could open the phone book and start reading and I would buy a ticket. However, I could care less who he is having sex with. It makes no difference in my life. These two brain surgeons next to me would not stop going on about Meg Ryan, Jennifer Garner, Renee Zellweger and so on.

Then the woman made the asinine statement that Renee Zellweger is such a great actress. That just made my head explode. The reason she gave for this was that she had to gain twenty-five pounds for Bridget Jones and then take it off, only to put it back on for the sequel. Stuffing your self with Ho-Ho’s has nothing to do with acting ability. If it did than Louie Anderson would have won multiple Oscars by now. This witty banter continued for over a half hour.

The conversation then moved on to Pulaski Day. As any Chicagoan knows the first Monday in March is Pulaski day in Illinois. Then the woman said, “All I know about him is that they named a street after him.” The man’s reply, “I think he fought in World War II.” If either one of these wastes of sperm would have bothered to buy that mornings paper (as opposed to the all important US weekly) they could have gotten a full history of Casmir Pulaski and found out that he fought in the Revolutionary War, (Come on the guy was only 200 years off.) I guess being informed on things outside of Hollywood just does not matter to these yokels.

As I counted the feet the train inched along, I just wanted to escape their presence. Of course just as the train was about to enter Union Station it screeched to a halt. As we waited to get the green light to precede the two of them continued to blather on about nothing. The only good thing I surmised from the whole conversation was that they were married to different people. At least the world would be saved if they produced off spring.

At long last the train pulled into the station and I ran for the exit. Maybe I am being to elitist in my venting. I mean, on the way home I tend to get into conversations that are not exactly about saving the rain forest. However, my friends and I at least are somewhat informed about most current events. The sad thing is, most are severely un-educated when it comes to simple everyday matters. Most would rather escape into the made up world of Hollywood movies and reality TV. All of that makes me sad and want to give up.

What is the point of it all? Why do I bother to get up on my soapbox and care so passionately about so many tedious things? Many think that I should relax and just accept things as they are. I guess I am just not made up that way. I care too much about things. My principles mean something to me. I read that paper every morning and get pissed off about things I read, like a needless war, and oil prices that are skyrocketing, or a local economy where more and more jobs are being lost.

I don’t mean for this to be some tirade against the masses. I am as much versed in useless information as the next guy. However, it is a good thing to be informed, and I guess that is why that conversation bothered me so much this morning. These two were already brain dead and they did not seem to mind. Well, rest assured I will keep fighting the good fight. I will keep waling away about my beliefs no matter how many people I put off with what they may term a gruff personality trait. I just couldn’t live with myself if I lived any other way.

A Comedic Genius

To my brother and I my Uncle Dan has always been a great source of comedy. Here are my top 5 Dan Arp moments.

5. While at Arby’s one day we are there and he came up with his classic line. “Here is my five dollars just give me my fill.” Meaning, it does not matter what you sell, burgers, chicken, fish, tacos, beef, hot dogs, whatever it is just give it to me. It does not taste good but, I am hungry and I need to fill my stomach so just give me whatever crap you sell.

4. The classic meat vs. bread argument. I was not there but my brother related this one to me. They all went to the taste of Chicago where they either got this Irish soda bread or a meatloaf. My Uncle Dan claims it was soda bread while his friend Al Taylor claims it was meatloaf. Then, a drunken argument ensues the entire ride home over what they had just eaten. The fact that it was either meat or bread tells you a lot about just how good it must have been.

3. One day my Uncle Dan says to my Dad, “When I get older I am going to invest in hearing aids.” My Dad than replies, “Really, Why?” My Uncle Dan than responds, and seriously I might add, “What?”

2. My aunt Joanne goes out and buys some Neapolitan ice cream. My brother and I are both annoying her with how much proportions of Chocolate, Vanilla and Strawberry, we want. She than scolds us that we will get equal amounts of all three and be happy with it. My Uncle than goes and grabs a butcher knife and slices the entire slab of vanilla and puts it on his plate. My brother and I still laugh about the site of it.

1. I actually was not present at this one but my cousin Mike’s re-telling of it always keeps me in stitches. My Uncle Dan takes the nieces and nephews to Primo’s a soft serve ice cream parlor in the burbs. My cousin asks him what flavors do they have there. His dry response is, “Chocolate, Vanilla and chocolate and Vanilla.”

Pimped Out

The following is part five in a series of blog's celebrating my 20 years in the work force. Each Thursday, I will update this site with the latest installment.

After IRI, I did something really crazy; I decided to become a consultant. Being a consultant is a little like being a hooker. You work for a consulting company (The pimp) and they trick you out to whomever likes you. Then the consulting company gets a percentage of your pay for all of my hard work.

I worked for this consulting company called Selectech. In my two and a half years there they would change names three times. My pimp was this really cool guy named Mark. While he was the ultimate salesman he was true to his word and always hooked me with a new gig when I needed one.

My first gig was a three-month contract at Van Kampen. Those would be three of the longest months of my life. This company was by far the worst I ever worked at. I could harp on their technology being behind the times and pointless shit like that but that is not what made it the hell it was.

First off, you had a lot of lifers there. People, who had been working there since the Eisenhower administration and wanted no part of a newcomer. Especially, someone new who was only a lowly consultant. I was treated like the red headed stepchild. Everyone felt that they could boss me around, which meant that I was going in ten different directions. Plus, I missed working downtown. Working in Oakbrook was horrible. My lunch choices were McDonalds, Wendy’s or a Denny’s. After those three months I went to Mark and asked him to get me the hell out of there.

My next spot was at Monsanto. Monsanto had three companies under its umbrella. NutraSweet, Searle Pharmaceuticals and Benevia Foods. I would work for all three at some point. I stayed with Monsanto from March of 97 until June of 98. I started at NutraSweet. It was in Deerfield, which is a long ass drive from my house. It was cool in that the place was dead as the building was empting out. Because of that after three months I was moved to Searle.

Searle was in Skokie. I put the bulk of my Monsanto time in there. Skokie was also a haul but by this time I was living a little closer. It was a pharmaceutical company, which means I had really sold my soul to the devil. It was located in a huge complex and I supported doctors for the first time in my life. I still missed working downtown though and Benevia Foods was located in the loop so my entire tenure at Searle I spent angling to get in at Benevia.

After nine months at Searle I got my wish and got a transfer back downtown to Benevia. Benevia was great. We had a pool table, a bocce ball court, a full work out facility, a large conference room with a big screen and cable, a fully loaded refrigerator with all the food we wanted, and last but not least nap rooms with hammocks. It was right out of that Hank Scorpio Simpson’s episode. At Benevia I was as happy as Dom Delouse at a Chinese buffet. I thought I had finally found my dream job. I had it all. No pushy boss, a light call volume, cool co-workers, a great location and a frickin pool table. I actually liked going to work. I didn’t miss one day the entire time I was there. Again, it would not last.

It was in the rumor mill for weeks that Monsanto was pursuing outsourcing its IT area to IBM, and then one day the shoe dropped and it was announced all IT support would be handled by IBM. They came in and dictated everything showing absolutely no ability to be flexible. IBM’s motto was we want the best and brightest people to work for us. What it should have been is we want the easiest manipulated and brainwashed. It was either do things Big Blue’s way or hit the fucking road. We had a good and efficient system that worked and no one complained about it. They replaced it with a non-sensical, unintelligent one where complaints grew so loud the company tried to wiggle out of the deal. It had signed a ten-year contract. After one year of IBM’s nonsense they tried to get out of it. The way the deal was signed Monsanto would have had to pay IBM ten years of expected profits from the contract. They were up shit creek and were treading fecal matter. Of the thirty-five people that IBM inherited exactly one took their shit for more than six months.

So, I again called my pimp to get me out of there. By this time my consulting company was called DPRC. I had a new pimp named Michelle. She was pretty cool and she worked her magic and got me in at Harris Bank. I consulted there for a year and they eventually hired me on full time.

Looking back at my consulting years, I guess they were not all bad. I never got a vacation and if I wanted to call in, I didn’t get paid. On the other hand, I was well compensated and I learned a hell of a lot. I worked in so many different environments that I had to learn on the fly many times. I had to adapt to change and different co-workers all the time. But, after two and a half years I was ready to find a permanent home. I needed a vacation and some financial security. At the bank I would get that, and I would have never been hired at Harris if I never consulted. Of course at Harris, I would get screwed in a whole new way.

A Mexican Delicacy

I consider myself something of a burrito aficionado. So, therefore I am going to offer the readers of this blog, my how to eat a burrito guide. You might want to load up on the Pepcid before hand just to be safe.

Now, I order mine always the same. A Steak Burrito, with re-fried beans, cheese, and lettuce. I skip the tomatoes, but they are acceptable in an authentic burrito. So is sour cream. Rice, celery, whole beans, and green peppers are not acceptable fillers in a real burrito. Now, I know places like Chipolte offer those things but you will not get an authentic burrito from a chain. So, Chiplote and Taco Bell do not count as real burritos in Nick’s book.

So, with that said, here is how you eat one. Never get the hot sauce on the burrito. You need to personally distribute. So, you get the hot (not the mild you pussies) sauce in the little plastic container on the side. Though, the urge will be strong, do not cut the burrito in half. Cutting the burrito in half takes away from the enjoyment of eating something as big as your head. Also, it is proper to start the experience from the ass end as opposed to in the middle. It makes the ordeal much more enjoyable.

The first bite of the burrito should be sans hot sauce. You need to do this to start the meal. After taking that first bite you will notice a pocket has been opened in the burrito so that you can now add your hot sauce. After each subsequent bite you can then control your hot sauce distribution. A good burrito should stay together pretty well, but sometimes no matter how hard you try it will fall apart. At this point you will have to rebuild.

Now, I know my brother back in his meat eating days once had a Egg Mc Muffin and after one bite the egg part of it went flying out the back end of the bun. Vince is not a re-builder so he took the remains and dumped them. I however, prefer to re-build so have a fork handy. If you want you can just eat the scarps individually. The flour shell is a must in any re-building project. Then you can add the fallen meat and cheese to it. The beans do a good job of sticking to the shell so it’s just simply a matter of adding the rest to the base and re-folding as best you can.

For a good burrito you can go to La Playita in Chicago Ridge, La Bamba in Downtown Chicago, El Cortez in Palos Heights or for a nostalgic turn try El Farol in Deep Summit. All offer pretty good one’s. The best burrito I ever had was from a long gone place called Manny’s. It was in Justice, IL and I have never had a burrito that good in my life. Plus, Manny’s daughter was this 5-foot Latina who was a hot as a firecracker. God, I miss that place. I am always open to suggestions so if anyone knows of a good burrito please suggest them.

As a side note I apologize to Joyce in advance before I eat a good burrito. The one draw back is that as much as I love burritos they do not love me. The flatulence that the burrito brings down makes my rear end speak in tongues for the rest of the evening. Hey, isn’t that is why the priest said for better or worse?