There is no way I am having "Sponge Bob" in the house of GOD!

Did you ever notice how sometimes life seems just a little bit brighter on mornings when you are hung-over? Some of the brightness is for more obvious reasons, like you forgot your sunglasses, and there is a giant ball of burning gas hanging in the sky, intent on doing you harm in a variety of ways. But there are other, more subtle, sorts of fun that come as pleasant surprises when your brain takes a little time for itself, and these will be enumerated here:

1. I woke up this morning...in a living room...on a couch...with a cute girl on the adjacent loveseat. I am in no way intoning that anything "sordid" happened between this lovely young lady and me, but rather stating that it is always nice to wake up in the same room with attractive people. Simple as that. It is especially helpful when you have recently consumed large quantities of malt liquor. Basically, my brain hurts this morning.

2. As I was gingerly making my way to the red-line this morning I happened upon a father and two small children standing in the doorway to their townhome. Ordinarily this situation would not have been all that amusing, except that the little boy in this family DID NOT want to go to church. He was trying to bring toys with him. A stance that I completely understand, because church is boring. It is like those classes where they have you read every page of the textbook and then lecture directly-out-of-the-textbook. Those classes are not fun. At any rate, the debate culminated with the father beginning to count (Does anybody else remember counting? That used to put the fear in me something fierce when I was a youngster.) and declaring "There is no way I am having 'sponge bob' in the house of god!" Which was made even more amusing by his thick Chicago accent.

3. McMotherfuckingGriddles! (Mike, buddy, you wanna stop?) I had some time to kill in Union Station this morning, and decided to indulge in the bit of bowel-flushing sin that is McDonald's breakfast. Feeling daring and more than a little loopey after my morning stroll in the summer sun I opted for the number nine breakfast...baconeggandcheese McGriddles, hashbrowns, OJ. Now, I have long been opposed to the McGriddles--mostly based on the seemingly arbitrary pluralization--and I figured that if you are going to slander something on a near daily basis you ought to at least "know your enemy" as they say. Needless to say, I feel dirty. Like I might need a long bath and absolution from a priest to get over my morning meal. Fuckingsyrupflavoredminipancakesandwich! Whoever invented this little gem should be stoned. (And not in the "hey man you want to play frisbee" sense, more in the "you have just blasphemed in early C.E. Rome" sense.) Just like I believe that catty women are the reason that a lot of young women hate themselves, and each other--well, that and shallow controlling men, but men like that are douche bags anyway--I similarly believe that McGriddles and their ilk are the reason that so many Americans are grotesquely overweight. I hate fat people. And being one, that takes a good dose of self-loathing to admit, but it's true. It is a lifestyle bred of laziness, that people should not be let off the hook for, being fat is not a disease any more than any other voluntary activity. Generally these activities are the path of least resistance, but that is hooey. That's right, hooey!

4. This is the last one--I promise. Today is gay pride parade day here in the Windy City and, while I didn't go to the parade itself per se, I did get to see some of the people who would be there as they were getting off the train this morning on their way to the festivities. So, it was a parade of sorts for me. I think it is kind of odd that I immensely enjoy watching people celebrate, but rarely enjoy celebrating myself. But it did a lad good to see all the people in full party mode this morning. Although, I don't know that so many people should have been so drunk at 10 in the morning. I think that having to set an alarm to start drinking might be one of the early signs that "you have a problem". Unless, of course, it is the last day of the ski season...so I guess everyone has their "thing".

-A.R. Leith

p.s.- Most "peasant shirts" look like maternity wear on almost all women, so take it easy ladies, I don't care what any of the major labels are doing, it's just a bad idea. But that's just one man's opinion (if you don't count Eric, Suzanne, and some other people, who seem to share the same opinion.) Thank you, and goodnight.