Holy Balls this is funny!

Today YouTube, tomorrow Sundance!

If you have five minutes and one second to spare, I implore you to check out this kid's one man reanactment of a scene from The Princess Bride. Here's what the budding director/actor had to say:

Holy balls, this one took a while to finish, mainly because of the size. It clocked in as a whole gig when I had it as an .AVI. This is the "Battle of Wits" scene from The Princess Bride. A mysterious man in black has been chasing three criminals who have kidnapped a princess. He has beaten a swordsman and a giant. Now all that's left is outsmarting the genius of the group, Vizzini, in a battle of wits.

You can also find this at Bored For Now, where Madison Sinclair posted it, and where I found it because I'm a devotee of their blog and frequent it, well frequently.

98 random things about yours truly

I was going to save this for my 100th post like this blogging wonder, but I could walk outside and get hit by a bus before then and, well the world will be much richer for knowing. . .

-Crossing the street is scary to me. Played too much Frogger back in the day.
-At one time I was absolutely convinced that I was going to marry JFK Jr.
-My grandma used to eat head cheese sandwiches, wash them down with buttermilk and be pissed at me when I refused to join her for lunch
-I'm really a Republican. . pysch!
-I still say Psych!
-I chew icecream and mashed potatoes
-My great grandfather used to run a zoo
-I say things like "for all intensive purposes" a lot
-My brother used to be a swiss-army carrying, num-chuk swinging, breakdancer
-I used to get my older sister in trouble and make her take me with her and friends
-I tried pot when I was 10
-My all-time favorite pet was a hamster
-I locked myself in my room for an entire Christmas break once so I could read all the Little House in the Prairie books
-I really, really like beer
-I really, really get brutal hangovers
-I have size 11 feet
-I hate shopping
-A home remedy in our house for congestion was called "Onion Syrup."
-I want my own Secret Service detail
-I have first cousins who were busted for running a meth lab out of a trailer in downstate Illinois
-I watch Reba sometimes
-I have a problem with drinking and dialing
-I didn't go to class during the duration of the William Kennedy Smith rape trial
-I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up
-I'm still mad at Al Gore for losing his own state in the 2000 election
-I wanted to be Mary Lou Retton
-I've been a bridesmaid 5,999 times
-I hate doing laundry
-I wish men would stop holstering their cell phones
-I think unless you are someone who saves lives for a living, you really should try not to take your job too seriously
-I want to time travel
-I used to fantasize about being on "Fantasy Island."
-I love movies about psychotic, obsessive women
-I wanted to be a Ob/Gyn until I realized you had to touch women's cooters
-A drunk Irishman once told me "your hair is feckin block!"
-I mercilessly flirted with my high school algebra teacher
-I have a thing for men who carry guns
-I don't believe in religion
-I like guys who have a few dents and scratches
-My friends and I used to drink outside at a place called the G-Spot
-My first dog's name was foo-foo
-I thought LBJ was handsome
-I used to be stuck on all the worst summer softball teams growing up
-I had sex in a Com-Ed substation
-I stuck my finger up the nose of the face sculpture in front of the British Museum in London and made my friends take a picture
-I use to have a crush on Hugh Downs from 20/20
-I wrote that my first grade teacher was "a fucker" on a school paper that my mom ended up finding
-I remember where I was when JFK was shot, even though I wasn't born until 1972
-I couldn't wait to download Michael Jackson's "Man in the Mirror" on my iPod.
-The sound of cardboard scraping against cardboard freaks me out
-I made out with a married, uber-creepy Massachuesetts State Senator when I was a Washington D.C. intern
-I'm afraid of escalators, sorta
-I interviewed Harold Ramis for my college newspaper and said, "Man you had some big hair in Stripes."
-I pee in the shower
-I love peanut butter and jelly
-I smoke when I drink
-I wish I could speak Spanish
-I envied my sister because she made better mud-pies than I did
-I want to live abroad
-When I say something funny, I make a point of telling people just how funny I am
-I hate people who listen to NPR just so they can say "I heard . . . on NPR."
-I hate people who say they don't watch TV.
-I drink way too much coffee
-I think there's nothing worse than being described as being a "sweet girl."
-I'm crazy enough to think America will survive George Bush
-I called in sick the day after seeing "Titanic"
-I taped Janet Jackson videos and tried to learn her moves
-I think Gene Hackman is sexy
-I almost never floss
-I'm afraid to dive into water
-I'm perpetually running 15 minutes late
-I talk to my plants
-I love love LOVE celebrity gossip
-I'm afraid to walk over grates in the sidewalk
-I lost my virginity on September 8, 1989
-I constantly wear white socks with dark shoes
-I believe in God
-I have really, really bizarre dreams 5 nights a week
-I'd like to get a cat, but if I did I'd have a cat
-I don't believe in soul mates
-I think every girl should be kissed by a man who knows what he's doing at least once in her life. And by kiss, I mean. . .
-I believe in ghosts
-I'm getting a boob-lift when I turn 40
-I was one of two students who won a dollar for reciting all the states and capitals on the last day of 3rd grade
-While dissecting a fetal pig senior year in highschool, the teacher looked at my butchered specimen and said, "Someone's not going to be a surgeon."
-I'm incredibly near-sighted
-I knew I was a grown up when I realized that awful things can happen to people I love
-I love living in Chicago
-I hate living in Chicago
-I think it's ok to be impatient, disorganized, and dreamy
-I hate it when Latina newscasters over pronounce their last names. It's obnoxious. You can roll your R's. We got it.
-My dentist thinks I'm funny
-I think I'll be ok if I never get married
-I pick my nose sometimes
-I eat standing up, right out of the pan quite often
-I watch Simpsons reruns twice a day, almost every day
-I'm afraid to do what I really want to do
-I can't believe how hard it is to come up with 98 things about yourself!

Thank you, and good night

Death Cab for Angie

After a night of carousing with some friends in Wicker Park Saturday night, a fellow Southside friend and I shared a cab home.

About two blocks into the ride, we ran into a melee spilling out of Paje onto Milwaukee Avenue. Our cab was stuck in a sea of patrons who apparently had too much Kool-Aid at this Southern-themed restaurant/club, and decided to start beating the shit out of one another.

"What is this bitch doing in the middle of the street? This meter is running. Fuck! GET OUT OF THE FUCKING STREET!"

My belligerent friend who I guess has seen Boyz in the the Hood one too many times, was not digging the hold-up. I had no where to go, and was kind of enjoying the riot so I listened to her tirade of expletives, giggling here and there.

Until I realized our window was down.

"Uh, Janel you might want to shut up." I said. Our cabbie was laughing his ass off.

"Fuck that. If this is the way I have to go down, then this is how I gotta go da-hownnn!" she said flailing about next to me.

Thankfully the cab got through and we were on our way. As the cab headed down Milwaukee, Janel and the cabbie were debating the merits of various killing methods. Somehow my friend morphed into Ice T during the course of the night.

"Shit, shooting is nothing. You don't even have to get close! Now stabbing, stabbing is something," she said.

The cab driver, probably reaching for his machete in the glove compartment heartily agreed.

I totally tried to hit on the Lt. Governor

I now have a 2-8 record for politicking over the last 16 years.

The guy I worked for lost. Not entirely a surprise considering he was running against the official Chicago machine favorite. I might add that this particular favorite had a debilitating stroke about a week ago, weighs about a ton and is like a thousand years old. Or was all these things, since I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been on ice for the last few days.

In Chicago being the candidate who is most likely to have a pulse for the General Election isn’t all that important, I guess.

Tuesday night’s election bash was at the Knickerbocker Hotel where volunteers and supporters bellied up to a cash bar (I’m still upset about that) watched returns, and made fun of Chicago media personalities there to cover the event. We knew it was going to be a long night since ballots from hundreds of precincts were mysteriously MIA, new voting machines weren’t “working”, etc. Fixing an election takes time. We all know this.

So anyway, I was standing with my $7 glass of wine talking to a fun, drunk couple when our Lt. Governor sauntered up and started talking to us like we were all friends for years. This is a guy whose past campaign tactics included holding a “Boston Tea Party” to protest high Chicago property taxes, by going on TV and telling us all to give tea bags to Mayor Daley to register our displeasure.( I’ll never forget turning on the news and seeing this guy with a handful of teabags shouting and carrying on. I was like, ain’t no way I’m giving Daley a tea bag.)

“Blah, blah, politics, I’m so great, politics, politics, blah,” said Mr. Lt. Governor.

He’s not bad looking, and I think he’s single so I decided to pull out best Monica Lewinksy because at that time I had like $21 worth of wine in me. I started talking to him about my hometown. He started telling me how he saved some island in the middle of the Illinois River when one of his handlers came and took him away.

Maybe I would have been successful if I had worn a beret.

My affinity for losing candidates goes way back. I was in third grade when I realized I was a Democrat. Our teacher announced that we were going to have a mock election, and immediately I started strong-arming classmates into voting for Jimmy Carter. He lost our class. I was livid.

Later that year, Miss Watson, the 2nd grade teacher came into our classroom one afternoon looking like she saw a ghost.

“President Reagan has been shot.”

I said aloud, but not loud enough for the teacher to hear (and this is the honest-to-God truth) . . . . good.

Good? I was an evil, liberal child, wasn't I?

Political Junkie gets her fix

Right now my body temp is about 60 degrees as I've been standing outside since 7 am on this blustery primary election day handing out some stuff to urge people to vote for this one guy.

And the last two nights I was one of those annoying people who call other people at their homes and tell them they should vote for who I tell them to. It turns out I'm quite good at this. While others around me slammed the phone down in frustration, I whizzed through my lists giggling with voters and telling them things like, "Abigail is a beautiful name." The cheeseball campaign guy said aloud when I turned in my lists, "We've got ourselves a rock star here! Mike, she's a rock star!"

Whatever dude.

I've put myself through this just about every election since I was 18. Why? Because I have to. It's like a sport to me. It's fun.

More on this Thursday. My post-election hangover should wear off by then. Thawing out however, is a different story.

Operation Blow Smoke up America's Ass

It's rather unfortunate that mainstream American media devours Bush propaganda like a starving dog would a steak. This on "Operation Swarmer" from BBC World:

The operation near the town of Samarra is not as huge as has been suggested, correspondents say. Local people say there has been little if any combat.

The troops carrying out the operation are said to have detained about 40 suspects but 17 of these were later released. The joint US and Iraqi force said it had captured a number of weapons caches, containing shells, explosives and military uniforms.

The Iraqi foreign minister said the aim was to stop insurgents from turning the town into a stronghold. But a senior Sunni Arab politician criticised the operation, which came a day after the new Iraqi parliament met for its inaugural session.

"[The US forces] are surprising us with meaningless acts at the time Iraqis are looking forward to the first session of the parliament, preferring the political solution, not the military one," Saleh al-Mutleq told Reuters news agency.

Would you believe me if I told you a baby gave me a dirty look?

Well it did.

About 45 minutes ago.

I was hoofing it from the ol' salt mines to Madison and Canal where I catch the ever luxurious and reliable No. 60. On the way, I saw a living, breathing Gap ad. A stray Mom and baby, perfectly coiffed and outfitted, apparently were lost on their way back to their River North loft. Or maybe they were just well-heeled homeless. Who knows. But they both looked miserable.

I don't know what the baby's problem was. But the mom looked like she was carrying around an accessory that seemed like a must-have at first, but was now kind of bored with it. Perhaps the baby picked up on this vibe, so the Christian thing to do would be to cut it some slack. The mom however. . .

You see this phenomenon quite a bit with Loop condo dwellers and their dogs. With their attention squarely on their iPod/Blackberry/cell, they let the dog shit all over the sidewalk during what is probably the poor dog's once-daily 60-second outing. I think I'd stump them if I stopped and asked them what their dog's name was. "Fi. . Spo. . Shit, just look at his tag, will ya?"

I can identify with people like these. I lose interest in stuff right quick too, but the difference is I'm currently not responsible for anything possessing vital organs or a soul.

Our bagpipers are better than your bagpipers

New Jack City bloggers Sarah,Vanderbilt, Madison, Shitface et al, brace yourselves.

Yes, it is true. Chicago may be the Second City, but our drunken, overweight, and belligerent Irish Cop bagpipers are stunningly talented in comparison to NYC's drunken, overweight, and belligerent Irish Cop bagpipers.

I learned this while at Dugan's on Saturday, celebrating St. Patty's Day with my McPosse.Dugan's is a lone Irish Pub smack in the middle of Greektown, which in past, had been the place to go for cute NYPD officers in town to march in Chicago's weekend of parades. Even though my friends and I are probably too old (we're like Big Chill old for chrissakes) for this sort of revelry, we have a rep to protect. So we went. And anyway, who can resist a guy who asks for your "numba?"

This year was a bit anticlimatic. One friend almost found herself on the receiving end of a bitch slap from a bloated asshole Chicago cop wearing a kilt. There was just a smattering of NYPD, many of whom didn't look a day over 21.

For me, it was how-many-slimey-married-men-can-I-get-to-proposition-me day. I was wearing flashing shamrock earrings on loan from Harry Winston, that acted like creep beacons. One man, I was convinced, wanted to sell me into white slavery. The other, an Italian Streets and San superintendent, was trying to recruit me to be his goomad. When I told him he was cocksure, a word I don't think I've ever uttered out loud but when I get drunk I like to show off, he smiled and said he didn't care what it meant, just that I said "cock."

Awesome.

Next year I'm going Dublin. McPosse, start saving your shillings or whatever it is the Micks use for currency because we're going.    

Tummy hurt

A weekend bout with the stomach flu, and all the unpleasantries associated with said illness prompted me to give Dr. Matilde, my physician from Uruguay, a jingle early Monday morning. I always fell a little wimpy when I call a doctor for other than routine stuff, so you can be sure I was feeling none too well when I had her answering service page her.

After describing my weekend to her, she said (imagine thick accent here,) “Oooooh. You’re dehydrated. Go to Mt. Sinai.”

Looks like this little girl got herself a sick day.

I have an HMO, which is just a big healthcare clique really, where your doctor only lets you go see people she likes and to places where she hangs out. So Mt. Sinai Hospital—just a prison wall’s jump away from Cook County Jail—probably wouldn’t be my first choice.

But it’s a perfectly fine hospital, and if you have nothing to do for four hours except lay back and suck up a couple of IVs, I promise you won’t be bored.

Example. About five minutes into my “spa treatment” a guy named Frank was wheeled into the curtained area next to me. Frank was involved in a car accident on the West side somewhere. Frank was not happy.

Frank: “I’m going to kill that Mexican mother fucker!”

Cop: “Frank, 14,000 Chicago cops now know you’ve been in an accident with (the Mexican mother fucker.) If anything happens to him, we’re coming for you Frank.”

Frank: “But I just got my car outta the shop.” I thought he was going to start crying.

Cop: “Frank, you’re acting like a baby.”

Doctor: “Frank, do you have any medical problems?”

Frank: “No. . . Yeah, I get migraines. . I was shot in the head in 02.”

Poor Frank.

As for me, I was pretty much on my own. I got up a few times to hit the ladies room with my IV bag in tow, sporting a lovely Oscars-inspired hospital gown and yoga pants I hastily picked up off my bedroom floor after talking to Matilde. I was smoking hot. I owned that ER.

Once I was all juiced up, a doctor popped his head in between the curtains and nearly gave me a heart attack. “How are we feeling?” He asked, grabbing my wrist to check my pulse. It was night and day. I guess there was something to that whole hydration thing.

“Um much better.”

“Ready to go?”

“Sure.”

With that I was sprung. I got dressed, got a high-five from a University of Chicago resident on my way out, and was home watching soaps by 1 p.m.

If nations were a bunch of chicks

>-----Original Message-----
>From: Israel
>Sent: Friday, March 3, 2006 9:00 AM
>To: America, France, Italy, Japan, UK, Germany, Canada
>Subject: Who does Russia think she is?

I am so pissed! What is up with Russia inviting that crazy fucker Hamas over? After what he’s done to me? I mean I knew she has this post-Cold War inferiority complex, not to mention she’s a fat ass and uglier than sin. . . LOL . . .but what is her deal?

How am I supposed to take this? Doesn’t she care?

-Israel

>-----Original Message-----
>From: France
>Sent: Friday, March 3, 2006 9:05AM
>To: America, Italy, Japan, UK, Germany, Canada, Israel
>Subject: RE: Who does Russia think she is?

Yes, Russia is fat. And drunk like 90 percent of the time. She’s been a mess ever since she lost that hottie World Domination to America.

Too much vodka, maybe?


-France


>-----Original Message-----
>From: Canada
>Sent: Friday, March 3, 2006 9:10AM
>To: America, Italy, Japan, UK, Germany, France Israel
>Subject: RE: Who does Russia think she is?

I think you guys are mean! Give Russia a break.


>-----Original Message-----
>From: UK
>Sent: Friday, March 3, 2006 9:10AM
>To: America, Italy, Japan, Canada, Germany, France,Israel
>Subject: RE: Who does Russia think she is?


Russia, shmrussia. I want to know how America’s date with India went?

America. . . where are you? Give us all the juicy details you whore!!!!!!

And Israel, stop your whining. You are killing me!

Canada, go play hockey or something, will ya?


(just kidding Canada, I love you.)



>-----Original Message-----
>From: Germany
>Sent: Friday, March 3, 2006 9:17AM
>To: America, Italy, Japan, Canada, UK, France,Israel
>Subject: RE: Who does Russia think she is?

God, UK! Someone’s not getting any.

Can we get any cattier? Meow.


>-----Original Message-----

>From: Japan
>Sent: Friday, March 3, 2006 9:30AM
>To: America, Italy, Germany, Canada, UK, France,Israel
>Subject: RE: Who does Russia think she is?

I no understand.



>-----Original Message-----

>From: America
>Sent: Friday, March 3, 2006 9:40AM
>To: Japan, Italy, Germany, Canada, UK, France,Israel
>Subject: RE: Who does Russia think she is?


Sorry Ladies-

Just got in from India. It totally rocked! I’m wearing the same clothes as last night, so that should tell you something;-)

UK, I know you said I should hold out with India and not give in but I couldn’t help myself! India is so sultry, and that economy makes me hot! I fell right into bed! I probably gave too much, and will regret it later, but I’m a spur of the moment kind of gal.

Israel, cheer up. I’m sure it Russia didn’t mean anything by it. She loves swarthy guys as we all know. I’ll call Russia later and straighten things out.

I’ve got THE WORST hangover of my life. . off to bed now. . .

Kisses,
America

Wait, I didn't get a sign yet!

Some on Chicago's City Council have their collective aldmerman undies in bunches over Black Panther leader Fred Hampton getting a street renamed in his honor. It's a little controversial, and like a frustrated parent, Ald. Tom Allen says the renaming practice should end all together since we can't seem to play nice.

I couldn't be more upset. I've been in Chicago for nearly 10 years now, and had two dreams. One was to get a cushy ghost payrolling job, the other was to get a street named after me as a result of all the city work I didn't do but was paid for.

That's it. Chicago you had your chance. I'm outta here.