Blagojevich goes to jail…

Former Governor Rod Blagojevich is heading off to Colorado tomorrow to start his 14 year sentence for corruption charges. I am not a political blogger and never will be, but I was thinking about what he should do on his last day in Chicago…

1. Go to Wicker Park and scream, “YOU’RE ALL GOING TO HAVE BORING JOBS AND MORTGAGES BY THE TIME I GET BACK! AHHAHHAHAHA!” And hand out pamphlets on how to get the most out of your 401K, but do it ironically.

2. Don’t wait in line at Kuma’s Corner or Hot Dougs. No one should have to wait in line for something they can find at a BBQ, especially if you’re going to be sitting around for the next 14 years.

3. Do wait in line for Garrett’s popcorn. That stuff is delicious.

4. Go to the bad neighborhoods of Chicago, buy a keg, some handles of liquor, and throw a party. It’s good to have future friends on the inside. Maybe bring them some Garrett’s while you’re at it.

5. Tell your wife she has 14 years to get a better haircut than that awful 80s bob. And for God’s sake, fix those bangs.

6. Plant a tree. That way, you can honestly say you didn’t totally F&*$# up the state of Illinois.

7. Get wasted in Wrigleyville, break in, and run the bases. What’s the worst that can happen- you get arrested?

8. Go to Lincoln Park and punch a DePaul douchy guy in the face. The city of Chicago will thank you, and it’ll be great practice for when you have to prove yourself out in the yard.

9. Go to Mario Tricoci and get one last, good shampoo. I hear that lice disinfecting stuff they have in the clink causes awful split ends.

10. Ask your father-in-law, Aldermen Mel, for a loan, so you can complete the perfect image of his daughter marrying a deadbeat who’s in jail. Wear a wife-beater tank and a bandana on your head for added effect.

Children say the creepiest things

Well I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night. And I almost had to punch a ghost kid in the face.

To say we live in a noisy apartment is an understatement. And I’m not talking about the neighbors stomping up the stairs too much or blasting their TV too loud type of noise- I’m specifically talking about the pipes. Whenever the heat kicks on, which is usually in the middle of the night, the pipes in the wall make this EXTREMELY LOUD noise that sounds like someone is taking, well, a large metal pipe and SLAMMING it against another, well, large metal pipe. I was going to go all writer-y on that description, but I couldn’t think of anything more descriptive than two metal pipes banging against each other, and I’m a little sleep deprived, so we’ll stick with that.

Because our building is going through management changes, we’re basically stuck with the nighttime noises. Luckily Chompers has finally realized that barking at the loud scary noise doesn’t make it stop, so there’s that.

But that’s not what kept me up and scared the ever-loving crap out of me.

I went to bed around midnight so Andrew was already passed out by the time I went to bed. As I start to nod off, I hear the following, in a children’s voice, age approximately between 4 and creeptastic:

Mary had a little lamb,
Little lamb, little lamb.
Mary had a little lamb
who’s fleece was white as snoowwww.

Which led me to say:

WHAT THE @#$)*@@#*# $##*& WAS THAT.

The logical side of my brain would have told me that it was probably the new tenants that moved upstairs who hopefully have a young child that I can now hear through the pipes. But at midnight when I’m half asleep, that side of my brain is overshadowed by the more crazy (and dominant) side of my brain who likes to remember that we live next door to a funeral home only when things get scary. So of COURSE its a dead ghost child who came from next door to kill me in my sleep. And the pipes banging aren’t the heating pipes, but the ghost kid’s angry soul looking for people to murderize.

Which led me to start thinking…

Would I be able to punch a ghost kid in the face?

I’d like to think that if something harmful was coming my way, my immediate reaction wouldn’t be to hide under my covers, but instead swat at it. But what if it was a small kid? Would I still punch it? It’s still a ghost, but is it wrong to hit a ghost kid? And what if someday I have kids and am startled in my sleep by them waking up and singing Mary had a little lamb, thinking back to this day and having my brain think GHOST KID, PUNCH IT. But I end up punching my future kid in the face?

At this time I’d like to point out that I don’t take crack and that I wouldn’t even know how to get those strong prescription type drugs either. Although this is not pertinent to the storyline, I still find it relevant to mention from time to time.

Back to punching my future kid in the face. So the logical conclusion I came from this whole ordeal, aside from the fact that Andrew is no longer in charge of picking out future places where we live, is that young children singing classic songs like Mary had a little lamb is really, really, really freaking creepy. So if in the future I do have kids, I’m only going to teach them Top 40 billboard hits, because for some reason, a kid singing Lady Gaga’s latest is far less creepy than the alternative.

Moral of the story? Don’t punch your future kids in the face, it’s probably not a ghost.