I'm With Stupid?

People are stupid. Right? It's quite obvious. All the signs are there. Albert Einstein -- the smartest person ever, right? -- said, "Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former." But, then again, Einstein helped invent the atomic bomb, which has brought this world to the brink of nuclear devastation on more than one occassion -- nuclear holocaust is stupid, right? So does that mean Einstein is stupid afterall?

Hold on, let me personalize this a bit more ... My 22-year-old co-worker, Catherine, loves the bar McGee's in Chicago's Lincoln Park neighborhood. This watering hole is truly nothing more than a filthy sports bar that every weekend turns into a meat market where very, very bad music is blarred. I think people who like this bar, say, past the age of 19 are -- in fact -- stupid. Catherine, I'm sure, thinks I'm stupid because I don't like the place. So ... Which one of us is stupid? Well, clearly her, right?

To broaden the lens once more, let's discuss what led me down this rabbit-hole ... Republicans. This morning I read about Donald Rumsfeld's recent remarks comparing those who oppose the war in Iraq with those who appeased Hitler in the mid-20th century. The Chicago Tribune article also tracked the words of President Bush's inner circle -- Rumsfeld, Cheney, Rove and Republican National Committee Chairman Ken Mehlman -- that America is far safer with Republicans at the helm as opposed to those Bin Laden loving Dems (or something to that effect). The collective remarks are geared toward influencing voters for November's mid-term Congressional elections. As I read the article I thought, "Shit, this technique could work because PEOPLE ARE STUPID."

Then again, I know at least a few proud card-carrying Republicans who will vote a straight Red State ticket come November and these people are not stupid in the traditional sense of the word.

But what is "stupid" in the traditional sense of the word? Well, according to the American Heritage Dictionary, Stupid is ...

1. Slow to learn or understand; obtuse.
2. Tending to make poor decisions or careless mistakes.
3. Marked by a lack of intelligence or care; foolish or careless: a stupid mistake.
4. Dazed, stunned, or stupefied.
5. Pointless; worthless: a stupid job

When it comes to nearly everything but politics, my Republican friends are not slow to learn, do not make poor decisions, likely would not score poorly on an I.Q. test and are certainly not pointless or worthless. (At times, though, I'm sure they are dazed or stunned.) However, according to my beliefs, in terms of politics these Republican friends are slow to learn (they fail to understand why the war in Iraq is wrong), tend to make poor decisions (voted for George Bush ... twice), do lack intelligence (at least so I think because, again, they voted for Bush ... twice) and are pointless, worthless citizens because they vote Republican. Of course, my Republican friends probably believe the same about me -- except with opposite examples.

By examining these five defintions of "stupid" it seems only two are somewhat definitive or proveable: "marked by a lack of intelligence" and "dazed, stunned, stupified." But, pertaining to the former definition, intelligence is measured through a test -- an I.Q. test, for example -- yet most of these tests have been called into question for their bias that could make it difficult for, say, an African-American kid from the inner city to answer the same question correctly compared to a wealthy white kid from the suburbs. Eliminate that definition of "stupid." So, it seems, the only definition of the word that isn't negotiable is "dazed, stunned, or stupified." For example, I would feel stupid (as in, "dazed, stunned, or stupified") if I saw a perfect slice of pepperoni slide out of my asshole.

Which leads me to an essential element for the definition of "stupid" and back to the Einstein quote. Unless you're talking about being "dazed, stunned or confused" (which, by the way, is not a useable form of stupid. How often have you used the term, "Check this out ... A perfect slice of pepperoni just came out of my ass. I feel stupid"), there is no absolute definition of stupid. The meaning of this word depends on a variety of situations like ... the era in which you live and/or the religion you do or do not subscribe to: for example, You don't think God created the earth in six days and then rested on the seventh? Man you're stupid! The country or region in which you live: for example, you don't think soccer (football) is the greatest sport in the world? Man you're stupid! Your belief in a particular ideology or political party: for example, You don't think killing Jews is cool? Man you're stupid! Or, for example, You don't think killing Arabs is cool? Man you're stupid! Your own interests, preferences, etc.: for example, you don't think McGee's is the coolest bar in Chicago? Man you're stupid!

Stupidity, therefore, is relative. As a result, the word's definition should be the following...

Stupid (stoo-pid), adj.

1. a word used by persons in a certain era, region, nation, or belonging to a certain political party, or subscribing to a particular notion, ideology or religious belief to describe other persons either in that/subscribing to era, region, nation, political party, notion, ideology, religions belief, or persons in other eras, regions, nations, political parties, notions, ideologies, religious beliefs whose opinions, actions, ideologies or beliefs they do not agree with.

2. A person who scores poorly on a test designed to measure his or her intelligence quotient, or I.Q.

3. dazed, stunned, or stupified.

If, as I mentioned, stupidity is relative, then Einstein's quote -- which I stupidly implied Einstein used to describe others and not himself -- is true. Because the word is relative to, well, everthing, stupidity is universal and will always exist.

So ... People are stupid ... Myself included ... And you too ... Although I don't care what I say ... McGee's sucks!

An Accessory Only A Mother Could Love

The future King of England wears one. So does a notoriously closeted cartoon character as well as the most successful portrait painter of the early 20th century. Lots of people wear them. Lots of people would secretly like to wear them. Hell, sometimes I'd like to wear one. Truly, though, the only people who should be wearing them are 19th century European royals.

For those who watched last night's Emmy Awards they saw a talented actor, Chicago (actually Evanston) native and all-around asshole Jeremy Piven, who before the hit HBO series Entourage was known simply as John Cusack's buddy, don an ASCOT for the red carpet.

Jeremy Piven, who brought his mother and an ascot to the 2006 Emmy Awards

According to Wikipedia.org, the ascot is typically reserved for "ultra-formal" daytime occassions. In the 19th century, when the ascot premiered in Europe, it was worn during formal morning events. In the 1960s, the ascot briefly came into vogue with mod scenesters. Esquire Magazine warned in its May 2004 issue that men should not know "where to buy a good ascot."

And yet, the ascot is kind of cool. Mick Jagger wore one in the 1960s and fuuuuck he looked cool. I'd love to throw on a velvet blazer and tuck one of those insidious looking scarves into my crisp white shirt ... And you know what? Someday I might. And that day will be after a lively morning of fox hunting with British royalty as we breakfast, shortly before I am knighted for saving the Queen's life. Until that day ... Until that day ... I will coo over the eccentric hipness of those who pull the ascot off -- Mick Jagger, Fred from Scooby Doo -- criticize those who look like a true ASScot (sorry, couldn't resist) and marvel at what an all around douche bag (albeit good actor) Jeremy Piven is.

Play It Fuckin' Loud

Have you listened to Bob Dylan and felt completey stupified with his lyrics, wondering how this scrubby young Minnesotan wrote lyrics that'll make you stop whatever it is you're doing and consider exactly what he just said with the immediacy of a great sermon?

Yeah. Me too.

It seems my interest in his albums is cyclical. That is, my favorite of his records rotates about every two to three years. I first fell in love with Blonde on Blonde. The tune "Visions of Johanna" remains my favorite of his songs. Next came Blood on the Tracks. Beginning to end it's a stellar record of heartbreak and the search for that very person who broke his heart. Then, I dove into his older stuff particularly Freewheelin' Bob Dylan. The highlight -- for me -- on this gem is "Girl from the North Country." Last December I took a road trip to snowy and frigid northern Minnesota with me ladyfriend. It's the land she hails from. This was my first visit. As we climbed north past the Twin Cities and into what the locals call the "Northland," I realized I'd forgotten my copy of Freewheelin' Bob Dylan and that I absolutely needed to hear "Girl from the North Country." So priority number for me -- once we arrived in Duluth -- was to head to a record store and buy the album. I did. And listened to that little ditty to death.

Anywho, now my interest has peaked on Highway 61 Revisited. It's an un-fucking-believable record, kicking off with the iconic "Like a Rolling Stone" and its blarring, bleary-eyed organ. The album's meat has some classic Dylan like "Tombstone Blues" and "Queen Jane Approximately," as well as some groovy modish-60's rockers like "From a Buick 6" and "Highway 61 Revisited." Of course, only Dylan could take a groovy mid-60s beat and combine it with lyrics like "Oh God said to Abraham kill me a son/ Abe said Man you must be putting me on / God said no / Abe said what / God said you can do what you want but the next time you see me you better run." The caboose of the record is "Desolation Row," an 11 minute odyssey of fear and loathing that only Dylan could create.

My favorite song on the record ... "Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues" ... best line from the best song on the album ... "I started out on burgundy but soon hit the harder stuff / Everybody said they'd stand behind me when the game got rough / but the joke was on me there was nobody even there to bluff / I'm going back to New York City I do believe I've had enough."

Racialism and Reality T.V.

It seems Ready Bare Chested has in the last few days turned into some kind of Internet forum for people to sound-off on Ben Affleck, Matt Damon, me and others who choose to comment. I've had enough ... So I'm going to post about a subject that people never discuss on the Internet ... Reality Television, specifically SURVIVOR, the television show me ladyfriend Sally was on and consequently ruined my life, ahem, sorry, no, just kidding, totally kidding right there, that is, about the whole it ruining my life thing. In fact, her being on a reality show was awesome for this guy. I was pampered, chauffeured, slapped on the back and flown to New York twice. Not bad, I suppose.

As some of you may have noticed, CBS announced the latest cast of SURVIVOR, which was shot in the Cook Islands. The cast is certainly the most diverse of the previous 12 seasons and contains 20 castaways as opposed to the usual 16. Also of note, the castaways are split into four teams of five, each of different ethnicities: White, African-American, Latinos and Asians. Or as one person put it last night: whites, blacks, Mexicans and Orientals.

The diverse cast of SURVIVOR: COOK ISLANDS

Quite the social experiment for SURIVOR (of course 14 of the 20 cast members are from Los Angeles). I have the sneaking suspicion, however, that this will be the Disney version of racial tension. You know, kinda like Remember the Titans. Great movie, but are we really to believe that in the South in the early 1970s African-American hating rednecks never used the N-word. While I realize I'm starting to sound like a racist -- I'm not -- I feel that without proper racial slurs and stereotypes the lastest installment of SURVIVOR will simply fall short. As a result, CBS will fall back to its formula of attractive white people sprinkled with token minorities.

Or else CBS could go way off the deep end for SURVIVOR 14. The producers could set it in Beirut or Jerusalem and square off a group of Israelis and Palestinians (better yet, Israeli Massad agents and Hezbollah terrorists) and see what happens. Now that's great television!

Either way I'll see the entirety of SURVIVOR: COOK ISLANDS. Why? Because me ladyfriend -- besides being a previous cast member -- is a die hard SURIVOR fan, which means I'll see the whole damn season.

I'll keep everyone posted.

A Firestorm of Affleck

Yesterday's posting about my new found admiration for Ben Affleck set off a firestorm of activity on Ready Bare Chested. It seems some share my sentiments, while othes strongly disagree. Either way it's both a delight and curiousity that this caused such a stir. Who knew Affleck was such a sticking point?

Anywho, an anonymous poster asked about my source on the information that Affleck wrote a very small, but important segment of Stephen Gaghan's (not Gaughan, sorry) Syriana. Last night I emailed my source asking if he or she could cite this information. This was his or her reply in full:

A close friend reported that at a Q&A after a Syriana screening, Stephen Gaghan said he was having a difficult time with that particular scene. He asked Matt Damon if he had ideas, who then asked Ben Affleck and the "meat" of that paragraph is said to have come from Ben or at least a rough draft of the dialogue...that's what I was told... I had a hard time believing it at first, until I saw Mr. Affleck hold court on REAL TIME WITH BILL MAHER... The dialogue in question, in my humble opinion, didn't seem to match the writing style of Mr. Gaghan and of the rythym he so wonderfully created for SYRIANA. It was a slight departure from the "style" of the rest of the film. A little younger. With less subtlety. And, sure, with a little more sass. I thought it was at least improvised upon first viewing... I've also heard that Matt Damon wrote this scene, but my money, and heart, are, as always, on Affleck. I my not have any hard evidence that Ben Affleck indeed contributed to the screenplay of SYRIANA... but I sure as sugar have evidence that he ungayed a gay.

Vote Affleck. Vote Often.

I have the utmost faith in this source and his or her gut instinct.

And indeed, "Vote Affleck. Vote Often."

Yo, Affleck Was Da Bomb In Phantoms

The consensus these days is Matt Damon is the better actor than his co-star and co-writer in their breakout hit, Good Will Hunting. For years I agreed and never considered the opposite scenario. In fact, I once considered Ben Affleck a complete hack.

I've changed my mind. Afterall, he has hinted at running for a political position ... Senator Affleck, who doesn't like the sound of that.

While Affleck might not rank as the better actor than Damon, I think Affleck is given the short end of the stick as an actor and writer. I changed my mind after learning Ben Affleck actually wrote one very small, yet extremely powerful bit for the movie Syriana. The film's writer and director, Stephen Gaughan, who also wrote Traffic, asked Affleck to have a crack at the memorable scene when Matt Damon's character, Bryan Woodman, first addresses a Middle Eastern prince and oil tycoon. While standing in the desert with this Middle Eastern prince, Damon's character, Woodman, launches into a tyrade after he is offered a large financial reward and job following the accidental death of Woodman's son at the Middle Easterner's mansion ...

"But what do you need a financial advisor for? Twenty years ago you had the highest Gross National Product in the world, now you're tied with Albania. Your second largest export is secondhand goods, closely followed by dates which you're losing five cents a pound on...You know what the business community thinks of you? They think that a hundred years ago you were living in tents out here in the desert chopping each other's heads off and that's where you'll be in another hundred years, so on behalf of my firm I accept your offer."

It stands out as among the most powerful moments in the film and Ben Affleck wrote it. Now, Affleck in all likelihood could not deliver this line, but Goddamn if he can't write it. So, with this in mind, let's take a look at some of Affleck's other films where he had a starring role, the films that weren't complete shit: Chasing Amy, Mallrats, Shakespeare in Love, 200 Cigarettes, Dogma, Boiler Room, The Sum of All Fears and -- from what I've read -- the upcoming Hollywoodland. Yeah Affleck's kind of a stiff, but so is Harrison Ford in his older age, and Affleck's a helluva lot better than most of the young actors today. Plus, the whole Beniffer thing is over -- you know, when he nearly married Jennifer Lopez -- which, I believe, is really what made much of the public turn on Affleck.

So whadya say, let's give Affleck a break and punch Affleck in 2008!

Running Late

I'd love to write quite a bit today about the lovely surprise party I attended this weekend, or the even lovelier dinner I enjoyed last night with some of the ladies from work, or the rockin' good times I had later last night while cosmic bowling ... Instead, I'm just gonna write that, and leave the rest for tomorrow because I'm running late and I've got to shave. I hate shaving. When I was a kid I thought shaving was gonna kick ass. And now I'd just assume have a killer neck beard that go through the process of shaving.

Irrational Fears

For the last year or so I've randomly and informally polled people about their most irrational fears. These fears being some calamity that will likely never happen to us ... Or so we hope. As an example, my two greatest irrational fears are lightening and bears, which pretty much leaves me screwed when it comes to camping in certain parts of this country. True story ... Into my early 20s I experienced anxiety during lightening storms while sleeping at my parent's house, because a branch from a large old box elder tree reaches all the way to my bedroom window. This window is exactly where my head is when I sleep. As a result, I would worry that lightening would strike the tree and the current would follow the tree branch to my window and then to my head. I don't really know why I'm scared of bears, but I'll tell you this ... I'd rather face down a lion, tiger, alligator or shark before a bear (grizzly, kodiac, polar ... not those more docile ones like black or brown bears).

Anywho, I've asked other people about their irrational fears and found the following:

My friend Billy: "Deep sea creatures."
Me ladyfriend Sally: "Afraid of being afraid."
Girl I work with Catherine: "Sharks."
My manager Dorina: "Jellyfish/ocean depths."
A female acquaintenance of Billy's: "UFOs ... I had a bad experience with some as a kid."

These are all actual responses, which leads me to believe the ocean is a giant irrational fear -- one I should perhaps look into, and that some of Billy's female acquaintenances are totally fucked in the head. She really said the thing about the UFOs during a breakfast last autumn in Chicago. Oddly enough, of the others that were at the breakfast -- Billy, Sally, myself -- we failed to ask any further questions about her UFO experience. I'm kinda glad about that and yet still a little sad.

There's So Much Drama in the L-B-C

I have a new show. It's young. It's fresh. It's dramatic and exciting. It's MTV's "Laguna Beach: The Real Orange County" I hate the people on this so-called reality program so much, I hate the program itself so much that I am actually in love with the whole damn thing. Pardon the cliche, but watching "Laguna Beach" is like watching a car wreck.

The season three cast

For those unfamiliar with "Laguna Beach: The Real Orange County" allow me to explain. It's a reality television show that follows a group of mainly high school seniors (although some underclassmen and post-high schoolers show up) in Laguna Beach, California -- an outrageously well-to-do hamlet tucked tidly along the Pacific Ocean in southern California. In what seems a paradise to you and me is actually teeming with human drama -- not the kind of wars and famines -- but instead that of attractive high schoolers, that is, high schoolers in a petri dish packed by MTV producers with hormones, alcohol (although it's always in plastic cups) and hot bods. The boys are horny (they are in high school, afterall) and the girls are boy crazy. And while they're all friends, they all seemingly hate each other. The majority of the cast is obsessed and impressed with wealth, although oddly enough it isn't their own wealth but instead the earning power of each other's parents. Each season (the show is now on its third season) features new cast members -- high school seniors in Laguna Beach -- as well as some returning characters from past seasons.

The show is obviously fascinating and has even spun out a handful of US Weekly-style stars and at least one -- I guess -- real star: Kristin Cavalarri, (pictured right), who is famous for fucking Nick Lachey.

(Let me take this opportunity to point out that me ladyfriend, Sally, discovered this show the other day while watching a "Laguna Beach" marathon on MTV and soon after turned me onto it. However, going back even further, my friends Darren and I believe Josh adored this show from its very inception.)

So last night, at 9pm central standard time, the third season premiered. And it looks pretty good so far. The narrator, Tessa, who is also the main character of sorts, seems fairly normal, while the remaining girls are cattier than those in the two seasons past. At first sight, the "popular" girls very much mirror the ladies in the film Mean Girls. Kyndra is attractive, blonde and potentially the Anti-Christ. Cami is the embodiment of that weird high school phenomenon where a vicious and unattractive girl is somehow uber-popular. (Perhaps it's her freakishly large breasts.) The guys, meanwhile, are more normal than the girls. All the guys, that is, except for Cameron, who "got hot over the summer." Cameron appears almost bloated and will certainly grow fat in college once he starts drinking beer heavily, eating late at night and stops working out. And, similar to last season, a love triangle involving Cameron, Kyndra and Jessica (from last season) has begun.

I basically hate all of these people, and yet I cannot quell my excitement at watching them each week on television. A fear I have concerning this show, however, is that "Laguna Beach" doesn't actually reflect high school life in America (although I will extend my disbelief to convince myself they are) -- these are extraordinary teenagers in a very extraordinary, atypical environment; as a result ordinary, typical high schoolers will begin (or already have) imitating life in Laguna Beach. Once this begins, the end is near. Of course, perhaps I'm being rash, maybe this is just the reality version of "Beverly Hills 90210," which showed off the same kind of teenage cattiness and drama (even though those playing the high schoolers were in fact in their 30s). The only outcome "90210" really gave America was the inexplicable fame of Shannon Dougherty and Tori Spelling. Now that was just plain weird.

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The First Annual Ready Bare Chested Best Dressed List

In no particular order, below, is the First Annual Ready Bare Chested Best Dressed List. (For those who aren't on this list and feel their exclusion is incorrect please know this blogmaster probably just does not have a decent picture of you.)




Andrew Glarner, a 27-year-old t-shirt designer from Chicago, has spent years, decades even, blazing a trail of personal style and later breaking the very style rules he wrote. Unashamed, wholly original, indisputably original, Andrew does t-shirts like George Michael does public places -- confidentally and shamelessly. During Lollapalooza weekend, Andrew donned a new, never-before-seen t-shirt each day, one that he'd made that very morning. Undeniably his finest was a red print on white of a school bus. "I woke up that morning and thought school bus," Andrew explained, "so I silk screened a school bus onto this Hanes t-shirt." It's simple. It's cool. It's perfect.



You'd never know Darren Grady, 25, of Chicago, earns six-figures a year. For that matter, by the way he dresses, you'd never know Darren is a first-year attorney. Unlike his colleagues in their power suits and Banana Republic chinos, Darren is thrift store chic in his tattered jeans, ironic t-shirts and hipster jackets. He's always hopelessly and impeccably disheveled. And yet, like his brain, his style is clever, confident and intelligently designed.




Sally Schumann, 27, a former social worker, loved-by-all reality television star and current server, is the envy of her respective zip code. When Sally finds a style she sticks to it and single-handedly returns what was once out to that which is totally in. Whether it's an elegant nightgown, a ratty pair of overalls, designer jeans and men's t-shirt or peasanty dress, Sally is constantly dressed the part -- small town girl conquering the big city.






For many men the suit wears them, they don't wear the suit. For Billy Federighi and Chris Storer, both 25-year-old Los Angeles residents and professional belt makers, it's definitely the other way around and not just with suits but with anything they choose to wear. These men wear their clothes. For Billy, it's all 1960s all the way. (He has his pants shortened to better display his hauty Italian loafers and sockless feet.) For Chris, it's jeans and white t-shirts. In this picture, however, it's handmade suits. And man do they wear them.



He's angry and he's gourgeous. Chicago resident Tim Eberline, 26, also known as Employed Tim and formerly Unemployed Tim, is an architect who puts together outfits like a master architect designs a building. It takes hardwork, yet the end product looks effortless. His clothes reek of gentleman (and cigarettes). Like his architectural designs, the clothes are tidy and modern with a nod to the classical. And when he gets angry, no one does an unbuttoned collar and loosened tie better than this crazed architect.





The enigmatic and mysterious BD, 25 or 26, of Chicago, defines his style in the shadows and along the fringes of cool. During the daylight hours, as he sells real estate, BD sports gray and navy blue suits like a drunken aristocrat playing the slot machines. When the work day is over he swaps slacks for jeans, loses the dress shirt and keeps the v-neck undershirt and blazer. It's understated and hip -- the very essence of cool.

Larissa Schroeder, this 25-year-old floral designer from Chicago whose pictured (right) alongside her sister, looks like a 1950s starlit, hell, she even talks like one throwing out expressions like "aw shucks" and "YIKES!" like it was scripted by some paid-by-scale patter writer, who got his start on "My Two Dads." She never wears jeans. In fact, I don't think she even owns jeans. Instead, Larissa wears dress ... and oh-boy does she wear dresses. Knee length and cap-sleeved -- sometimes pockets -- patterned or straight-up black, she turns breakfast into an elegant affair or dinner into a timeless charade.

Larissa's fiance, George Bradley Shorten, 29, is funny. Actually, he isn't funny, he's damn goofy -- outright hilarious, even -- but like his style, his humor is understated. It sneaks up on you and before you know it you're impressed. George, a bartender, doesn't let his humor get in the way of his relationships, just like his simple style doesn't get in the way of his humor. It's jeans. It's t-shirt. It's sneakers. It's easy. And it's fantastic.

For 29-year-old mixed martial arts fighter Rob Harman it isn't so much a style as it is an anti-style. He doesn't give a shit about fashion, style or, for the most part, what he looks like at all, which is exactly why this picture of Rob taken moments before he won his first amateur mixed martial arts fight is the essence of style. The tattoo on his stomach says, "MENACE," and that's exactly what he is to the fashion world -- a menace. And do you know what Rob would say about this list, the men on this list and even his inclusion on this list, "Dude, that's so fuckin' gay."

Where Baseball and Fashion Intersect, aka, the Third Baseman's Wife

Yesterday, while selling lady's clothing, I spent two hours helping none other than the wife of White Sox third baseman Joe Crede. Wow! Isn't that exciting!?!

Okay, so I'm feigning excitement because I don't really give a shit about the White Sox. I don't hate the White Sox -- like some Cubs fans will proclaim, I just don't care about them. When they were in the World Series last October and more than half the Sox hating Cubs fans were suddenly saying, "Well, you know, I'm a baseball fan," or the remaining Cubs fans were spewing venehemous vile about the Southsiders, I was sitting at home not giving a shit. Yeah, I watched a couple of Sox playoff games, more than a couple actually, probably like a few, but all the while it was as a detached observer, similar to if the Kansas City Royals were playing the St. Louis Cardinals, for example. (If I had to pick a team I "hated" it would likely be the New York Yankees or the St. Louis Cardinals, although even the Cardinals I have some sympathy for due to the ex-Cubs that are either currently on the team or were on the team.)

I digress.

So, yeah, Joe Crede's wife, whose name is certainly easy to find on the Internet, yet I will not disclose. She's my customer and that holds some privilege (I know, I'm laughing too). Anywho, she came in yesterday afternoon looking for cute, warmer tops because she "spends a lot of time outside during the evening." I had no idea what this meant as she had not yet revealed that she was in fact the wife of a baseball player. Together we selected numerous pieces and she tried on each one and was very nice and sweet about the whole thing -- apologizing when she inappropriately hung a shirt. She discussed her two young children and explained that during the summer she lives in Chicago and come winter time the family relocates to its rural home elsewhere (again, I'm not gonna say where exactly).

To make a long story short, she bought quite a few tops and one jacket, assured me she would be shopping with me again this week for jeans and gave me carte blanche to pick out more clothes for her.

But, how did I find out she was Crede's wife? Well, I asked why she spent her summers in Chicago and winters elsewhere and she very quietly said, "My husband plays baseball." Interested, I replied, "Do you mind if I ask who he is?" She answered: "Joe Crede." As I considered her situation, a metaphorical light bulb slowly lit -- a process I'm sure she noticed, and I said, "Oh, 'spends a lot of time outside during the evenings,' like at baseball games. I get it." I was impressed by my skills of deduction. I don't know if anyone else was.

The number one question my co-workers asked me (they're all ladies), at least the ones who knew baseball and proclaimed that Joe Crede is hot, was "what did she look like?" Well, she was cute, I wouldn't say hot, but cute with a very slim body. Jean size: between a 25 and 26, and that's after two kids.

Bottomline, though, "hot" Joe Crede's wife doesn't hold a candle to me lovely ladyfriend. It looks like I've got the trump card on a multi-millionaire athlete and I'm the poorest bastard I know. It must be my bare chest always being prepared, or, ready.

A Frighteningly Delicious Sandwich

Two kinds of food I love: bacon and liverwurst. Yes, I love liverwurst. Yesterday I went to the grocery store and bought some liverwurst, bread and Swiss cheese. Today, I cannot wait to make myself a liverwurst sandwich and later ... eat it. Will my breath smell like a pig's ass? Yes. Do I care? No. Will this potentially scare away customers as I continue this wretched experiment in selling lady's clothing? I hope so.

But where does the bacon figure in to this scenario? Good question.

Sometimes I fantasize about the ultimate meat sandwich ... liverwurst and bacon. Honestly, this combination frightens me a bit. But, I have a plan. On my birthday, which is in October, I plan to give myself a present ... a bacon and liverwurst sandwich. I'll let you know how this goes when the times comes.

Hell, Sox Fans and Bratty High School Kids: That which keeps me distracted for that which I do

During my train ride to work yesterday, while my coffee tasted like dirty dish soap (but I drank it anyway), I lapsed into the fourth circle of hell ... Irrevelance, people bumping into each other and pushing rocks ... Plus, surrounding me in the train car were dozens of rowdy White Sox fans: big dudes with A.J. Pierzynski jerseys and bad haircuts and Sox tattoos and their women with way too short cutoffs that allowed cellulite to spill forth across the train car and clear high heels. It didn't make for a positive start to the day.

Then, after work, I was set to go to a nightclub with a friend of mine, Jeff Schwister, but instead me ladyfriend and me watched season 2 reruns of that steamy, sassy and oh-so-catty MTV reality drama Laguna Beach. I'd like to say we didn't go to the nightclub out of exhaustion -- and sure that had something to do with it -- but let's be honest, once you get started with a serious Laguna Beach habit the tendency is to push it all the way.

A Desperate Man, Feel Sorry For Him

Top 7 activities I'd rather do than go to work this afternoon:

7. Bow Hunting
6. Spend the day with 3 overzealous -- yet horny -- born again Christians
5. Spend the day with 3 overzealous -- yet horny -- extremist Muslims
4. Listen to the entire Nick Lachey collection and attempt to draw positive and somewhat insightful conclusions about his canon of work (yes, I'm a desperate man, plus, recall I will hear James Blunt's "Beautiful" a minimum of three times today)
3. Passing a kidney stone
2. Giving handjobs on the subway
1. Golfing

I Don't Play By The Rules

Last night me ladyfriend and me were watching the pilot episode of Miami Vice. My brother proudly owns the first season of the television show, which first aired in August 1984. It should be noted that my older brother, Donny, bought Miami Vice season 1 roughly two years ago, well before the movie hype began. In fact, Donny doesn't even want to see the Miami Vice movie for fear that it will be a total abhoration from the original series.

But, I digress.

As inspired by Don Johnson's character in the show, I'm thinking I'll go into work today (to sell lady's clothing) wearing something pastel and a little wrinkled, unshaven and vaguely stinking of booze and cigarettes ... ala Det. James "Sonny" Crocket. When my manager asks me what's up I'll just croak, "I don't play by the rules." And then later, as some woman is hemming and hawing about whether or not to buy a pair of jeans I'll grumble a classic movie detective line like, "I picked a bad day to quit drinking."

Yup, it's all part of the lady's clothing salesman job.

I Won't Rest 'Til He's #1

I've been away for a while now ... In southern California visiting friends and family and attending weddings ... Then, sadly, selling ladies clothing ... Which I hate ... But enough of that ... Ready Bare Chested is back ... Sorry for the absence ... Please forgive me ...

In previous postings I've ranted about my annoyance, dislike and -- dare I say -- hatred of British singer James Blunt and his unfortunate hit, "Beautiful." Well, it seems the Brits are equally as fed up with Blunt. According to a recent British poll in which 2,000 people were asked what their greatest hates or annoyances are ... wait for it ... James Blunt ranked #4. Beating Blunt out for the top three spots were Queue jumpers (British for line cutters), Caravans (British for mobile homes) and Cold Callers. Of course I was happy to read about the Brit's apparent disgust for Blunt, however, since this poll is conducted each year I won't rest until he climbs to the #1 position.

Which leads me to two more interesting observations, the first involves the boyfriend of a young woman me ladyfriend formerly worked alongside. This woman is dating a 25-year-old guy who hails from North Carolina and has lived in America for nearly all his life and currently resides in Chicago. Two years prior to his Chicago move this young fella lived in England where he reportedly attended school. When he returned to the States he somehow adopted a British accent.

That's right. Developed a British accent ...

I've talked to him and he unashamedly admits -- through a strong English accent -- that he's from North Carolina. He's not doing it ironically or sarcastically, but with utmost sincerity. I didn't have the heart or balls to ask him about the accent. I wish I had, however. You see, my knee jerk reaction to this dude was, "What a fuckin' douche bag." A common reaction, I'm sure. As I pondered it further, though, my disgust turned to fascination. Apparently this guy is a first-year attorney, which left me wondering, does he use the accent at work or is it simply a social thing, like an earing perhaps, an unnatural addition to his persons that can be removed during work hours and reattached after 5 pm and on weekends?

But what if he does use it during work? Did his employers ask about the accent considering they'd likely know he hails from North Carolina and lived all but two years in the SOUTHERN United States. What about his family? How does he explain the accent to them? Really, the bottomline is I wish I had ask him all these questions before the fake accent guy's girlfriend became Sally's former co-worker.

This leads me to the final observation of the day, another interesting list I discovered while Googling Britian's most annoying list ... Did you know a conservative website published a list of the top 20 most annoying Liberals, as chosen by a group of right-wing bloggers? Number one on the list is Michael Moore, which is truly unfair because regardless of political affiliation Michael Moore is just plain annoying (and fat, really fat ... Seriously, I just caught Fahrenheit 911 on cable a couple weeks ago and admittedly I enjoyed the movie the first time I saw it, but this time it just annoyed me. Sure I agree with Moore politically, but the way he presents his case is so slanted it dashes any hope for swaying people who aren't already in his political camp. The only time Moore shows an opposing viewpoint he either degrades the interviewee or splices footage to blatantly make fun of the subject. The Republicans don't need fancy editing or ridiculous, antagonizing questions to make them look like idiots, they can easily do that naturally. Plus, Michael Moore inserts his fat ass and annoying face whenever possible in the movie, which is yet another totally unnecessary facet to the picture. Overall, I give Fahrenheit 911 one star simply for the hilarious behind the scenes footage of President George W. Bush as he addresses reporters before the cameras are officially rolling.). As for the poll of most annoying liberals, Al Gore made the list, an entry that baffles me considering he's using his celebrity to promote an issue that should cross political lines ... Global Warming. But then again, according to these 2003 comments from Senator James Inhofe, a Republican from Oklahoma, who is one of my top votes for most annoying conservative, the threat of catastrophic global warming is the "greatest hoax ever perpetrated on the American people." Now get this, Inhofe is chairman of the Senate's Committee on Environment and Public Works. We are in trouble, indeed.