Archive for the ‘personal’ Category

Ode to bokeen

Last week, the world celebrated the anniversary of my birth. 

If you were not aware, my birthday is kind of a Big Deal.  All across America, flags flew in front of suburban houses.  Mail wasn’t delivered and doves cried.  Snoop Dogg lit a celebratory blunt.  President Obama declared a moment of silence at 1:46 AM Central, the precise moment of my birth.  Shaquille O’Neal and Ashton Kutcher tweeted about it.  You probably missed it all because you were asleep. 

At the stroke of midnight on my birthday, boqueen unveiled her gift for me.  She had assembled a scrapbook containing several photos of me, her and my friends, along with excerpts from her private journal written when we started dating.  There were also several quotes from my friends.  boqueen had sent out emails to my closest chums, in hope that they would share their favorite memory of me.

I hate to admit it, but I teared up like little bitch as I read through the book. And so, without further ado, I present some of my favorite excerpts.  Consider this a series of testimonials to the life-changing experience of knowing bokeen. 

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bocabulary

Sometimes, it’s like my phone doesn’t even know me.

Every single day, I key the word “fuck,” or one of its variants, into my BlackBerry Pearl.  Despite the fact that the phone is equipped with a predictive text system, it consistently suggests the word “duck” when I am attempting to use my favorite four-letter word. 

Each time I type in a word that is not in the default BlackBerry dictionary, it is added to a “custom dictionary” so that the phone will recognize the word in the future.  In the nine months that I have had the phone, my custom dictionary has swollen to contain hundreds of words.  Between typing text messages, emails and notes, and using applications such as TwitterBerry, Google Maps and BlackBerry Messenger, I often use words that the device simply wasn’t trained to recognize.

While browsing the massive list, several notable words stood apart from the rest.  I am happy to present excerpts from the list – my bocabulary.

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Hot Weather Crazy

Hot weather causes residents of the Midwest to become raving lunatics.

Midwesterners are simply unable to adequately prepare themselves for the summer.  Last winter in Chicago, for example, was extremely long; snow fell during five successive months.  Spring is virtually nonexistent, so a Midwesterner experiences septic shock when the temperature rises above 80 degrees. 

For many, foolish behavior functions as a means to cope with the jarring change in climate.  With summer officially underway, I am reminded of a few instances where I have witnessed the dramatic effect that the sun can have on residents of the Midwest.

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Farewell, Dyketha. See you in hell.

Sometimes, the End of the Road is far less depressing than the Boyz II Men song. 

Dyketha (pronounced DIKE-uh-thuh) has been boqueen’s roommate for over a year.  Today, Dyketha finished packing her scattered mess of belongings and rode off into the sunset, never to be seen again.  Tomorrow, boqueen will have a new, far less contemptible roommate. 

I have been eagerly anticipating the moment that she would be permanently banished from boqueen’s palace.

Like all humans, Dyketha is a creature of habit.  However, her habit of “living in squalor and refusing to contribute to the household” had become the bane of boqueen’s existence.

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Diagnois: Hispanophobia

“I don’t see many white people around here.”

The remark didn’t carry a tinge of spite or racism; it was simply an honest observation.

As I waited for my cheeseburger in a fast food restaurant, I struck up a conversation with a Mexican girl who appeared to be in her early 20s. I was in Chicago’s Little Village neighborhood – a short walk away from boqueen’s palace.

Little Village is a predominately Mexican neighborhood. Census records indicate that 83% of residents are Hispanic and nearly 13% are black. White people are an anomaly, comprising less than four percent of population of the borough.

I laughed at the girl’s comment, acknowledging my unusual status as a minority. I explained that I was spending the weekend at my girlfriend’s apartment. As she awkwardly chuckled in response, it became clear that she was slightly disappointed. Apparently, the girl was attempting to flirt with me – and I can’t blame her.

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Increasing obesity, one lard ass at a time.

I am going to go out on a limb here and say that fat people are repulsive. 

There a few things more repugnant than the sight of massive mammal with multiple chins puffing and sweating while undertaking a taxing chore such as sitting.

Unfortunately, the United States is the fattest country in the world, and obesity is steadily rising.  In 2007, 26.6% of Americans were obese, up from 19.4% a decade earlier.  Should the current trend continue, by 2035 there will be only five skinny American adults. 

I am blessed with the metabolism of a hyperactive jackrabbit on meth, so I have never had to struggle with weight problems.  I am able to eat fatty foods and exercise very little without gaining weight.  It appears that many portly Americans also subscribe to the bokeen diet. 

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Scenes From a Moroccan Restaurant

Bottle of red, bottles of Lite…

Last week, boqueen and I met up with four of her friends for dinner at a Moroccan restaurant.  I was delighted to find out about the restaurant’s “BYO” policy, which means that we would be allowed to bring our own booze of choice.  As an ardent alcoholic, I realized that we’d potentially save hundreds of dollars on drinks. 

The restaurant was located in the Lakeview neighborhood, an area rife with yuppies.  I briefly considered trying to blend in by getting dressed up and bringing import beer.  But I am a simple man, comfortable sipping cheap domestic beer while lounging in a black t-shirt and Chuck Taylors.  I decided to keep it classy by eschewing my preference of cans of Miller Lite in favor of bottles of Miller Lite. 

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Endanger your child’s life to stop global warming

Springtime in Chicago is marked by the inevitable return of thousands of cyclists to the streets of the city.

Chicago is regarded as one of the more bicycle-friendly cities in the United States.  Thousands of residents take advantage of this, eschewing their car or bus pass in favor of a bicycle in the warmer months.

The relationship between cyclists and drivers is quite contentious.  Cyclists clash with aggressive drivers who find bicycles to be a nuisance and refuse to share the road.  Likewise, drivers become frustrated with daring cyclists who weave through traffic with blatant disregard for the rules of the road. 

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My avian adversary

My new arch-nemesis is a Canadian goose.

The apartment complex that I live in consists of seven buildings located around a large, grassy area with a pond.  As winter turned to spring, a group of Canadian geese made this park-like area their home.

When the geese first appeared, they minded their own business, swimming in the pond and defecating on every square inch of grass.  The geese soon realized that they would be unable to cover the entire area with their droppings, so they turned to fornication to help increase the supply of feces. 

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The sad janitor and the pyramid scheme

He must be a former gang member.

All of the telltale signs were present.  Arms and hands tattooed with elaborate images and Old English lettering.  The scar from a stab wound crawling up his neck to his jaw.  The wary eyes of a man who had buried too many of his young friends.

What was most telling was his voice.  While his words were eloquent and thoughtful, he spoke in the cadence of a common street thug.  The juxtaposition between voice and vocabulary was jarring. 

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