Get cool, boooooy.

So I've been taking the dogs on these epic walks, right into the thick of things in Wicker Park, to try to get them to be more socialized when a dog goes by. Which, in a large metropolitan city, is once every 5 seconds. Anyway, I've realized that I've taught them not to bark by using the words "Be cool, be cool." Apparently, I am training my dogs not to bark, while at the same time teaching them how to make it in a West Side Story gang.

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Last night, we went for margaritas at Tecalitlan:



I ended up like this:



Damn margaritas and their ability to make you not feel your feet.

I owe the Chicago Public Library ninety dollars.

Just now, I was writing an email to my friend Jeff about books we've read, and while I was doing this, my brain said to itself, "Gosh, I wish they had something like Netflix for books."

And then my brain thought about it, and then went, "Oh good Lord. That's what a library is."

I was appalled that my brain had this monologue with itself. Even more appalling, though, was that I found out that there actually is such a thing.

Saying goodbye.

Today on the way home from work for lunch, “Undone” came on the radio, and instinctively I rolled down my window and turned it up, as I’ve found I always do whenever a Good-Era-Weezer song comes on the air. It’s like I’m slipping back in time to eighth grade, where I would do the same thing, I guess in the hopes that another like-minded eighth-grade boy would hear the music and turn in the direction of the car, and from there a tumultuous eighth-grade relationship would begin. I think you can probably guess that this never happened. I bet it’s just because my mom was crimping my style, there in the driver’s seat.

Anyways, so I’m jamming, right, and then I remember a conversation that Steve and I had last night over dinner, which involved him giving me the news that Weezer is releasing a new album, and that said album won’t have a name, but it will be colored red, a la 1994 and 2001.

He also told me that word on the street is that Rivers is also sporting a thin, hipster-ironic mustache, too. I guess here I should clarify that "the street" = music message boards that Steve contributes to, which I consistently make fun of because he makes fun of me for my Flickr obsession. Glass houses, Steve. But anyways - Rivers! Thin, hipster-ironic mustache! On any other man I'd say that I'm 100% pro-facial hair of any kind, EVEN the ironic kind, but because he's Rivers Cuomo, this news just makes me want to sock him square in the mustachioed* face!

My hatred for Rivers is based partly on his horrible musical contributions in the last few years, but more because of that time when Weezer did a record-signing at Mars Cheese Castle, and Steve went, and as they were getting on to their bus Steve called, "Wait! Would any of you like a cheese curd?" Brian Bell and Rivers gave him dirty looks, while Patrick Wilson said, "Sweet! Thanks!" and took one. So everyone in Weezer save Patrick Wilson are dead to me now.

Needless to say, 2008 Me gave a sad, figurative wave goodbye to 1994 Me, rolled the window up, and changed the radio station.

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As I was leaving my house on the way back from this same lunch, I remembered I hadn't taken my birth control pill yet, so I did a little pillpop&walk to my car. I looked up as I was multitasking, and saw a chick walking with two little kids in a stroller right in front of me. She sort of looked at me, and I can't be sure if it was because I might be in her way, or if she saw that unmistakeable packaging and was offended that I remembered to take my pills because I saw her kids. That wasn't the case at all! Wise 2008 Me realized, though, that trying to possibly explain this to a total stranger was venturing into a World of Hurt, so I just felt like a tool and soldiered on.

Then I bashed my head on the doorframe of my car, which I normally would want to do something stupid like chalk that up to karma or something, but fuck that noise. As of now I refuse to be superstitious.

*Mustachioed is one of my favorite words! I got sort of bummed when I read that there is an adjective equivalent for plain old mustache. I refuse** to use it.

**I'm chock-full of refusals today! Ask me to marry you! I'm not going to say yes!