Bring Back Cocaine Wayne

So today downtown Chicago was invaded by some of the most annoying creatures known to man--yes that's right, Bears fans. My first thought was, is the Insane Clown Posse back in town again already? But then I remembered that the Bears are hosting the Saints tonight. I actually helped a couple of Bears fans with directions (sorry Kush, I should've sent them to Cabrini-Green for you). But in all honesty, no other NFL fans feel more entitled to great teams year after year as those of the Chicago Bears--the Super Bowl Shuffle was a quarter century ago, it's time to move on.

If anybody is entitled to anything, it's Lions fans. Endure 51 years with one playoff win, an 0-13 record and eight years of "Cocaine" Wayne Fontes at the helm and then come talk to me.

Seriously, he looks like he should be running a pizzeria; certainly not an NFL franchise.

A few other downtown observations:

I was walking down the Mag Mile and noticed this old man riding around in an Amigo and coming up behind people honking an air horn at them to get out of his way. Highly obnoxious, mildy entertaining.

There was also a homeless man who asked this woman walking in front of me for change. She politely declined and as soon as she turned her back, he started making obscene gestures at her with his tongue. Nice. I'm convinced that women underestimate how truly disgusting men actually are.

And memo to people who wear fur coats: you look ridiculous. Especially women with those round looking fur hats--Genghis Khan called and he wants them back. Seriously, it looks like you have a skunk wrapped around your head.

Howie Mandel, Pwner of Faces

Last night I was on the Chicago Tribune's website and they had a story titled "What's the Dumbest Thing on TV?"

If you ask me, Deal or No Deal. Hands down. Hole in the Wall...a close second.

Colin Cowherd, one of my favorite radio personalities, put it best when he said out of all the creative talent in television, Deal or No Deal is the most America can come up with? Somebody actually had the balls to walk into a top level executive meeting in New York or L.A. and say THIS is the best we've got:

There's gonna be hot women. And there's gonna be briefcases. Absolutely no skill will be involved. Hosted by Howie Mandel.

They might as well have named the show "sit here for an hour, don't think and let your brain turn into pus...hosted by Howie Mandel."

And here I thought the comedic genius' career had ended with Bobby's World. Little did I know that Rosemary actually went up to see Howie Mandel's stand up performance last year. She loves Deal or No Deal. Hated Howie's stand up though. She said she walked out once he started "talking about going to bed with his wife."

Welcome to the Thunderdome

So the governor of Illinois got arrested this morning. Mildly entertaining. Please tell me that means we can turn Illinois into a land of lawlessness. Clearly, the first order of business should be to officially change the name of Chicago to Bartertown and construct a Thunderdome in Daley Plaza.

The only rule is....there are no rules.

On another note, I had an epiphany yesterday. I'm walking around downtown and all of a sudden it occurs to me; I've never seen an Applebee's in Chicago. Medicore food. Riblet platters. Generic decor. Flare. None of it's here. I don't care what anyone says, I'm putting the blinders on and keeping hope alive that there are no Applebee's in the city of Chicago.

Face Plant

I'd like to extend a big thank you to Thorek Memorial Hospital for not salting or shoveling its sidewalk. Coming home from Alex's party last night, I slipped and hit my face on the concrete. I'm still trying to figure out how that was possible. Perhaps that last game of flip cup wasn't such a good idea after all. Luckily, the Natural Light swirling around in my brain softened the blow. I'm just pissed because my hand caught part of the impact and has temporarily rendered my thumb slightly less opposable. It's put a bit of a damper on the morning. Big Ern ANGRY!!! Rawrrr!!

Now it's taking all of my better judgment to not call some scumbag personal injury lawyer. I keep hearing this little voice in the back of my head:

"Call....Lee...free.....call...Lee...free....."

Making a Scene

I'm pretty excited--my buddies Alex, Robey and Joel are getting a keg tonight in honor of Alex's birthday. Over Thanksgiving one of our other friends, Corey, asked me if I was going to make a "scene" again like I did at one of their other parties.

Long story short, back in August they got a keg, I was about 12 flippy cup games deep and this girl made a couple racist comments about Indian people. I sort of went off on her and made a little bit of a "scene", I guess. Apparently, Big Ern doesn't mix well with alcohol, girls and racist remarks. Or maybe it's just alochol and girls. I should've learned my lesson from the notorious Krystal walk-up window incident. Meh, what can you do?

On another note, I've been expanding my culinary horizons. Here's my latest creation:

Mixed vegetables sautéed with chicken and simmered in Rogan Josh sauce and served over rice. Sort of looks like vomit, but I promise it's delicious.

Dpark Cometh

So today got off to a great start. Ari pooped on the dining room floor and I dropped my keys in the toilet. Awesome.

Talked to Dpark this afternoon and everybody's favorite used car salesman is flying in next weekend to paint the town "dude yeah right!" It'll be interesting, considering he hates the cold and turns into a Betty Buzzkill anytime the temperature drops below 45--the forecast for his visit sounds fabulous too--high of 22 and a low of 13. Suffering? You haven't seen suffering yet.

Big Ern: So it's going to be pretty cold. You got a coat, gloves, a hat, all that stuff?
Dpark: Yeah, I got all that.
Big Ern: What about a scarf?
Dpark: A scarf? No, cuz I'm not gay.
Big Ern: What? I have a scarf.
Dpark: Exactly.

Son of a bitch. I walked right into that one.

On a brighter note, I did receive my Christmas card from Megan. I set it on fire once I realized there wasn't any money inside. Kidding. Thank you Megan.

Who Ya Gonna Call?

When I was a kid, I was a ghostbuster on Halloween for about five years straight. More than anything I wanted the authentic proton pack, fully equipped with a particle thrower, trap, etc. But instead my mom took the "creative" route and made a ghostbusters costume for me--a book bag, with a telephone cord, attached to a paper towel roll.

A book bag, a telephone cord and a paper towel roll. That was my costume. Really.

Over Thanksgiving I opened up the Big Ern family archives, showed my mom a picture of me in the costume and asked for an explanation:

Big Ern: Mom, were we poor or something when I was a kid?

Mom: Haha...yeah, sort of.