This could even break the Griswold's spirits

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Happy Thumper's Birthday

So Apparently Saturday night, I found out the true meaning of Easter through the eyes of a Jewish person...

For once it was a Saturday I didn't have to work, which was nice. I got up around noon just in time for the rain to stop and the sun to begin to shine. After running some obligatory errands, I made my way back home and was invited to my neighbor's house for some dinner. Bart* and Mavid* are usually pretty hospitable like that. (*Denotes a false identity or name)

After some mouthwatering steaks, we played a rousing game of Sorry! (The game of sweet revenge) with Mavid's girlfriend, Shmatie* It was a lot of fun. After soundly earning the 3rd place spot, my roommate busted in and started raving about how it was Saturday night and we needed to be out somewhere. Naturally, there was no argument against such logic, so I suited up and at the early hour of 11:15, we made our way down I-94 from Jeff Park to the Gold Coast.

Upon reaching Division and Clark, we were rewarded with a "rockstar" level parking space, (Directly in front of the place you're going) and headed in to Butch McGuire's fine drinking establishment. We sat quietly in what may have been the most lighted bar I personally have ever been to, and enjoyed a frosty mug of Bud Light. After our first beer, my roommate's friends showed up. I originally thought they were his friends from work, (you know how you make a guess? no? okay, just me then) but they turned out to be old friends of his from high school. Two girls, two guys, me, and my roommate. Six people total.

After consuming a few more beers a piece, (the girls drank vodka sodas) we decided it would be a good idea to head to McFadden's, which is usually reserved for large crowds of young people with bad fake ID's. I sauntered on. Almost immediately after entering the bar, we lost two people. (The guys, I think one's name was Mike, no asterisk) My roommate and I drank cold beers and took shots of SoCo/Lime and colorful "bombs." I was 20 again. We danced with a large group to the musical stylings of Christopher Wallace, and by the time we found the girls we came with, they were letting the female bartenders do body shots off of them. I was introduced to a number of other people that I didn't even try to remember, at which point I suggested shots of Jameson. (This is how you know I am already intoxicated.)

Apparently, at this bar McFadden's, anyone with a Y chromosone is allowed to dance on top of the bar, and make people tip back their heads to pour pink liquid, (from a bottle that used to be Southern Comfort) into their mouths. Awesome? You bet. There was some conversation about how we should head to another bar, and apparently no one realized that it was already 3AM. I tipped the bathroom attendant $2. (This is how you know I am a little beyond intoxicated.)

We hailed a cab and took off into the night. Someone either smartened up about the time, or was way drunk, because next thing you know we are searching for a breakfast place, telling the cab driver to turn around 3 times, and ending up at the restaurant that was actually 4 blocks from McFaddens. My roommate paid the fare, and the cabbie was appreciative.

We walk into what I think must have been a 3-star breakfast restaurant that apparently is open only when you are drunk enough to find it, but it will stay there as long as you need it. (Kind of like the Room of Requirement in the Harry Potter series.) By this point, I am flipping through the menu like it's a decision of which country I have to nuke, and I hear myself saying to no one in particular how, "this place is so nice!" (This is how you know I will not feel well the next day.) I get a call from my cousin, and he wishes me a Happy Easter. I wish him the same and a Happy Passover, (because he is half-Jewish) and the girl across the table grabs my phone to talk to him.

Apparently, she was pretty shocked I was related to a Jew, and they spoke at length about Passover and other Holy Days of Obligation in the Jewish Faith. She insisted he come meet us so he could marry her sister, he insisted that I order the corned beef hash, and I insisted to another girl that I was 6'2", as she deftly called me a liar.

The couple at the table next to us granted me 6'2", I got my corned beef hash skillet, (which came with 4 eggs on top!) and the girl who ordered Lox and eggs at 4AM came back from the bathroom with puke in her hair. This is when my roommate realized he lost his wallet.

It was even more strange that he wasn't upset about it at all, (probably because he had all the cash in his other pocket) but I was glad. We had a damned nice conversation with the Jewish girls about how their parents let them celebrate their dead rabbit's birthday every year as a form of Easter celebration because back in '96, they got a rabbit and named it Thumper. (Why this information is still in my head, I have no idea.)

All in all it was a great night, and I learned a few things: 1. Don't get all frustrated when you lose something, because it's not gonna do you any good, 2. If you're ever in the area of Clark and Division, WALK to Elly's and order the corned beef hash, and 3. Never underestimate a Saturday night out with no plans, they're usually the best. and I guess I also learned that there are still some good people in the world. (The cabbie found my roommate's wallet, and drove it back to our place!)

The People of Gotham!

So apparently...if you place an order at McDonald's in the city while talking like Bruce Wayne in "The Dark Night", they will not think you are strange. They will smile and take your order just like everyone else.


So apparently...bringing a box of Lucky Charms out with you on St. Pattys Day is actually a wonderful idea.



So apparently...drunk people WILL actually jump through a hola hoop to get into a bar. No photo here, but this did actually happen.

So apparently...if you suggest a really stupid idea to a drunk as if it's a really great idea, they will believe you. And that is how the tramp stamp was invented.




So apparently...we're family.


So apparently...the Guido hat and the Mic hat are one in the same.


So apparently...I have this photo in every photo album I have when this guy is around.


So apparently...I had a great St. Pattys Day! Did you?

Episode II: The Gilbey's Strikes Back!

When we left our daring trio, they were nursing an epic hangover at the classiest of all establishments, John Barleycorn Schaumburg...

This day a hero was born. Sir William, had ordered the king of all bottom-shelf liquors. Gilbey's vodka. He was not swayed by enticements from the bartender, a beautiful temptress... Nor would he give in to his screaming liver, bruised and beaten, pleading for relief... And he would not accept a smoother, more tasteful vodka for his screwdriver. Simply, because he deserved the Gilbey's.

I perched unsteadily upon my stool between my bretheren, my comrades in arms. I had been sweating profusely for most of the morning. I tried to tell myself it was from the aching July heat, but I knew deep down that there was another reason...

I had mistakenly ordered a bloody mary with smirnoff vodka. It wasn't that it tasted badly, as much as my body would do anything to reject it at that point. Billy "gently" chided me for my poor decision, and recommended that Sean and I choke down our drinks and cross over into the glorious light provided by the saintly spirit he sipped.

After managing to get down the remainder of my bloody mary, I ordered a screwdriver, reminding the barkeep, "This time, make it a Gilbey's!" Her lip curled in disgust. (NOT a Gilbey's woman.) Billy already looked better, and Sean and I, desperate to regain our heads, clinked our glasses together and unsurely sipped our first taste of the divine ambrosiac.

When I think of Gilbey's vodka, I think of the phrase that Ralph Wiggum made famous, "it tastes like burning!" But it was a burning that would continue to warm my heart. I would rank Gilbey's as the "Choicest" of the bottom shelf vodkas, probably placing it somewhere above a Sascha or Dmitri, and just above a Skol. (gilbey's is NOT beneath any spirit.) If you can drink a martini made from Gilbey's vodka, you are either God or Satan and it is Armageddon.

I would like to make clear that Gilbey's Vodka is actually delicious. It is the best vodka for mixing a cocktail, and the premium bottom-shelved vodka. You will know when you hold the bottle that you have made the right decision beacause unlike most other bottom-shelf liquors, it comes in a glass bottle. But I digress.

Within 3 sips of my Gilbey's screwdriver, I was on top of the world. Back at 100%, and with a few more familiar faces joining us, I was elated. While we may have not been able to convince everyone else in the bar to HAVE a Gilbey's, the Spirit of the Spirit was certainly in the air. By the time the wedding party showed up, John-Boy, Zach, Noah, Sean, Billy, and myself were the liveliest bunch of assholes you have ever known. We had about 10,000 advertisement pitches for Gilbey's, and we were laughing unneccesarily for the whole tavern to hear.

On our way out the door, (We DID actually have to go to the wedding), we were offered v.i.p. passes from the manager, probably for seeming like we were having such a great time. He offered me his business card and told me he could, "get in any girls you bring here for free." or maybe it was half-price. Thanks but no thanks, asshole, we've got a scene to make.

We made our way to the hotel, which I believe was the Marriott, but at that point it no longer mattered. We entered the building like the scene before the gunfight in the movie Tombstone. Copius amounts of adult beverages later, we were allowed to enter the dining hall. Never, in my life have I heard so many people ask so many times what kind of well vodka they were serving that night.

The rest of the night was a blur. A beautiful celebration of live and love and friendship. And Gilbey's. Table 16 was marked from the moment we entered, even going so far as to have the maid of honor convince to give us a shout-out, "brought to you from the people at gilbey's vodka." That blur, transformed into a whirlwhind.

Evidence of Gilbey's magical powers:



This is Sean before he tried Gilbey's vodka. >

Below is afterwards...


We knew the Gilbey's was working, because it improved our dancing... >>>
And our conversational skills.
In the end, we had the night of our lives. Some girl lost a boyfriend, and a couple people vomited. But certainly, it wasn't anything that couldn't be cured by a stiff Gilbey's cocktail.

In closing, I realize that this story may seem far-fetched or stupid, but the next time you are sitting hungover in a church pew, and look down to see the name of the vocal soloist is actually SANDY JUNGKUNTZ, you should know that it's time for a Gilbey's. Hey, it worked for them!! (below)brought to you by the drinkers of Gilbey's. When it's a life-altering mistake, wash it down with another. GILBEY'S.

A Tale of Two Gilbeys: Vodka & Gin (Part I)

This is a story of true love and bliss. It all started back when the Greek was getting married. I had been beckoned to join my friends for some drinks after a wedding rehearsal. The infamous Sarah (see other blogs) was in the wedding along with our other friend. This other friend shall be named Crash since I don't know if she wants the people knowing who she is. So Crash and Sarah were there drinking with their BF's Dan and John Boy. It was a grand ol' time. The ladies eventually had to leave since they had an early morning. Us boys weren't done having fun yet, so we tried to think of a classy establishment to keep the evening low key. We suggested the fancy Cadillac Ranch since it has the best reputation in town for high class folks. I remember Sarah and Crash mumbling something about not being late to the church in the morning. We should have had her define late.

Well the shit show at the Ranch inevitable ensued. There were shots, beer pong, boobs and another shot or two. For those of you who don't know, I live about 500 ft from the ranch and it was the kind of night that ended with cab rides (yes, that kind of night). We sent John Boy on his way (after a drink or two back at my place) and agreed to meet him for breakfast in the morning after we picked him up to bring him back to his car.

At breakfast, we thought we'd sit outside since it was so nice out. WORST IDEA EVER! Hot sun and hang overs don't go together just cause they begin with the same letter. After getting some food in us, Dan and I still felt like crap while John Boy was smiling like a champ. Apparently, he yacked as soon as he got home last night. Way to take one for the team. Dan and I shook our fist in spite and said, "well played."

I agreed to pick Dan up on our way to the church, and picked up another couple of friends. We didn't figure hangover speed into our time calculations and got to the church just as the wedding party was lining up to walk down the isle. Time to spare if you ask me. We didn't want to be too rude and walk through the wedding party lines, so we just sat on the grooms side even though we were with the bride.

Some of the discussions we had at the church while at the wedding:

-Hey look! It's Billy. I heard he got in town yesterday and got really fucked up in the city. -Yeah he looks like shit! (Not really, he always looks good, but he felt as bad as I look)

-Why the fuck do we keep swearing in church? Is that bad? Does Jebus still love me?

-Hey look at the last name of the singer! ...Jungkuntz! (All out riot of laughter breaks out on both sides of the isle as we had to send Billy the info through text. First time I ever cried at a wedding. Too bad it was cuz I was laughing so damn hard. More to come on Ms. Jungkuntz in part II)

-This hangover sucks. I think I got sunburned at breakfast. Shit.

-Who invited Billy anyways?

-Zach, are you sure you really want to get married? This looks like it sucks.


You may kiss the bride...blah blah blah.

We grab Billy, John Boy, Peoria Pete and a couple other gun slingers and head to John Barley Corn between wedding and reception.

Hello Hot waitress!!

"We are hungover and hurting, and yes we always look this good. What can you do to help us?"

"I make a mean bloody mary!" says waitress McBoobs.

group, "YUCK"

"How about a screw..."

"YES!" I blurted.

"..driver"

"Oh, yeah I guess that'll do....for now ha ha "

"Vodka preference?

Dan and I agree to whatever, when Billy stumbles into the greatest moment of our lives.

"Just give me bottom shelf", says the hill 'Billy' from the south.

"You don't want that, it's really bad. Smirnoff is only a buck more."

"NO, I want bottom shelf."

"No you don't it's terrible. Some crap called Gilbeys."


"I LOVE GILBEYS!!!"

The music stopped as the entire bar turned with the "What the hell is Gilbeys" expression on their faces.

End part I

Is This A Pattern?

So apparently last night, (Last April) my girlfriend broke her nose...

(It's been requested that I tell this story specifically for SALN)

While at work on a Tuesday in the late morning, I decided I'd like to get to my first Cub game of the year. Since it was a slow day, I was able to browse Craigslist.com until I found a post for 2 tickets for that evening's game. Naturally, being the gentleman I am, I extend an invitation to my girlfriend, Sarah.

I e-mailed to claim the tickets and I worked it out so after I got home from work, Sarah could pick me up and we'd ride down to Wrigleyville to pick up the tickets. I stopped and got the tickets outside some random Mexican restaurant from this dude who seemed like he was in a hurry.

The tickets work, no problem. We're on the 1st base line in the first row of the 2nd section. I forget what I paid for them, but they were probably the best seats I ever bought myself. We eat a hot dog, have a couple beers, take some pictures, have a couple beers, freeze our asses off, watch the cubs lose, have a couple beers. All in all it was a damn good Tuesday night.

We get back to my place and pass out. Sarah seemed fine.

Her alarm on her phone goes off at some ungodly hour like 4:45 or so. Usually, I don't wake up, but I feel her get out of the bed and go to the bathroom. Fall back asleep. You'd have to ask her how long between getting up and coming back it was, but I wake back up to her plopping forcibly back down into my bed, breathing all heavy and groaning.

I am annoyed. But I know I have to ask, so I roll over to face her, and go "what's wrong." Iam such a good boyfriend. She tells me she ran into the wall. I turn the light on and if I'm remembering clearly, she had some blood on her nose.

I get her a glass of water and rub her forehead which is ice cold and wetter than normal skin should feel. She explains that as she was walking back from the kitchen she blacked out for a moment and slammed face first into the wall. (It was plaster, not drywall.)

Long story short she ended up laying down for awhile and getting into work a little late, but she was fine. I got a picture message from her the next day of her with a frown and a black eye. The next day two people asked me how I hit her and got away with it. -Fin

So apparently last night (about 6 months ago), I was a horrible judge of character...

I ended up accepting a date to go out for drinks with a guy that I had never met (mistake number 1). He was a friend of my good friend "Sally's", a cop, and an alleged good guy. So, anyway, I accepted said date with "Ed Rooney," because, at the very least, it was an excuse to get drinks at this new bar i really wanted to go to.

Well, the evening was going ehh..okay. The conversation was alright, he was alright, and the table tap of blue moon was fantastic. It wasnt until we left for the next bar that things started getting a little shady mcshades. I forget what he did or said, but at the point where we got to the next bar I was utterly repulsed by him....enough to kiss an 80 year old man while Ed Rooney was in the bathroom (no questions please).

Well, I had told Ed Rooney before the evening started that it was okay to sleep over; after all, he was coming from like 40 minutes away and I dont always condone drinking and driving...unless I'm SOL for a ride and i need someone to drive me :) ANYHOOTER!!.. We get back to my place and this is when the shite reallllyyyyy hits the fan.

I have a little Chihuahua, "Mr. Biggelsworth" that is attatched to my hip..she sleeps with me every night. Well, while Ed Rooney and I were on complete opposite sides of the bed with Mr. Biggelsworth curled up by me, he proceeds (along with his tourettes) to pick her up, toss her out of the room, and scream absolute insane words at my poor little baby who was doing nothing but sleeping. Well me, drunk and tired and knowing she would just come right back in the room, passes out..unknowing of what I was about to wake up to.

Dun, dun, dunnnnnnn. So, I wake up and first thing I do is thank God that I am still alive and this crazy didnt decide to pick me up and toss me out the room or something. Next thing I do, is notice a really cold breeze coming in my room. "Strange, I think," longing to brush my teeth after recalling the smootch with the Crypt Keeper the night before. Well, i get out of bed and notice a few blinds from my window just chillin on the ground. "Super strange," I say to myself again. Well, once dumb ass wakes up I question him about the blinds on the ground and the bad draft coming from my window. "I was hot but i didnt know how to open your window so i broke it open" he says with morning breath I could smell from China. WOW!!! WOWOWOWOWOWWWW WHAT A GENIUS!!!!!!.

We leave my room and, as I'm on the phone with maintenance asking them to come fix my broken window before someone crawls in and kills me and Mr. Biggelsworth, he proceeds to head to the kitchen. When i get off the phone I head in there to grab some water and what do I see? This guy i hardley know making a hot pocket, sticking his grubby little fingers in my olives, and drinking orange juice out of the carton. Oh hellll noooooo

Well, needless to say, once Ed Rooney finished munchin on his hot pocket he haddd to gooo. So, apparenly I need to do some kinda of a background check for crazy before I decide to let my friends hook me up with puppy hating, window breaking, olive grabbing bastards.

And thats my story and I'm stickin to it.

This weekend

Hung out with my friends in Naperville, and apparently one of them went to the hospital since then. I'm hoping she is OK and expect the full story to be posted here shortly.

So apparently last night...

This site is to tell our awesome stories from the night before. My good buddy Joanna and I have a habit of getting ourselves into some "entertaining" situations. We also like to leave out the juicy details until later in the story. It seems to make it more enjoyable. Also, these "apparently" parts come out in reverse order.

For example, "Last night I watched the super bowl and won money on the Saints. We had a party and got drunk. I woke up this morning with crazy hangover. So apparently, I was so wasted I was singing the super bowl shuffle in my underwear while dancing on the bar." (This story is fictitious and for illustration purposes only)

Get it? So start sharing. I'd suggest anonymity with the other people in your stories as I'm sure your friends will be able to throw in the rest of your juicy details for you if you leave them out.