These are posts that will go in the blog, under the slider
I’m not proud of this. But thirty minutes ago, I nearly punched my cat.
I definitely have anger issues. When something goes wrong in certain ways, I react with a fight-or-flight mentality. I remember once during Hell Week at my fraternity, after only fifty minutes of sleep the first night, some members came into the place I was sleeping and banged on pots and pans. I jumped up (they told me), and I took a fighting stance as if I was ready to attack. I was asleep and didn’t remember.
Okay, yo, I finally got my lead vest/apron. How? A sweet woman named Ady donated to me an old one they were throwing out at their animal hospital.
Turns out this vest was not for pets, but for humans. I will say, that it did not come in the greatest shape. A lot of strange stains, and it looks like some patchwork was required. Not good signs.
I’m happy to be announcing a new feature on this site that is all about you (for once).
I’m teaming up an amazing partner for a column where we discuss YOUR challenges and provide our take on your situation. She’s a woman (unnecessary as I just said “she”) and we’ll be able to provide two different perspectives on your challenge.
In the past month I’ve talked about how I might have SPD and how I explored the idea of buying one of those weighted lead vests that dentists put on you during an xray.
Then I nearly purchased one, but some turd bought it before me.
So I was just sitting here, like an asshole with no heavy vest.
Tonight (Friday) the band I’m in, TheNumbers, are playing at El’s Kitchen in Lincoln Park. This is a unique show, as we are playing two one-hour sets. That’s a lot of us.
As I know I have at least four Chicago readers, I would love to meet you all. For some reason I get a lot of people in Canada, but I’m not going up there. True your side of Niagra is cooler, but we have the statue of Nikola Tesla. Plus, you wear stripey shirts.
One thing I’ve learned as somebody who has tried to maintain honesty and integrity with a blog:
Whenever I’m afraid to share something because I’m ashamed is exactly the time to do it.
I’m mostly afraid to share hard truth. This was how I lived up until a few years ago – I was always a very nice, outgoing person, but one that was terrified for you to see my imperfection. Because I thought it meant I was defective. And even though we’re all somewhat defective, as is the human condition, I thought I could be doing just a little better if I really tried.
I was in San Francisco this past week with my girlfriend for a wedding. San Fran is one of the greatest cities in the country. It’s basically NYC, Chicago, and San Francisco in my opinion. And this opinion is right. There isn’t a better big city than those three (sorry Jacksonville).
I just came back from a headshot photoshoot. Why, you ask? Am I going to Hollywood? No.
I am writing for a new magazine and they are nice enough to put me on their fancy “contributing editors” page. So, in typical D.J. fashion, I scheduled the shoot for the day I got back from a wedding. In fact it was on my way home from the airport, where I still reeked of plane farts.
At the wedding I was at this weekend, the groom handed me an envelope which contained an important piece of my youth.
This was my official race car driving license. I hadn’t seen it since 1993 when I lost it in a card game called Suicide Guts to the groom. I had forgotten about this part of my life, as I was only thirteen and those were some dark times.
I'll never give this child another cigarette, pinky swears!
