The New Roommate Song and Dance

So, I’m meeting my new roommate, Mike, who is cleaner and cooler than I am. I get nervous and start using pleasantries I wouldn’t normally use. “Would you like to partake in this loaf?” Who says, “partake?” Who says, “loaf?” Did I teleport to the pulpit of a baroque church and start holding communion? Perhaps, I could have the maiden of the house knit a crested tunic for Mike. Then, I’ll kill the fattest pig and we’ll feast.

Meeting a new roommate is awkward. We’re stuck together, but nobody comes right out and says it. I know what I'm in for: someone will always be sprawled out on the couch, there’s going to be toothpaste spit on the facet of the bathroom sink, and it’s going to smell like a mass grave at Auschwitz. As I shake Mike's hand and greet him, these thoughts go through my head, but all I can say is, “Nice to meet you. I’m Ross, decedent of Bob, from the shire of Pittsburgh.”

Later on that day, Mike started moving his stuff into the house. He drove from Indianapolis with his mother, a very nice lady. So nice in fact, I almost let my guard down and offered her a shot of Jim Beam. Adults are pro’s at getting me to let my guard down. They act super nice and carefree, so I think it’s okay to start dropping f-bombs and pouring stiff drinks. Next, I’ll be raving about my plans to take a Winnebago to Burning Man. But, yeah, adults are sneaky like that. It’s like becoming cool with your daughter’s boyfriend and waiting for him to slip up, so you can squash him like a bug.

The new roommate dance will continue. We’ll need to recite sports facts while watching ESPN. We’ll need to grill dead animals and eat them, while casually chatting about projectile vomit. And we’ll need to arm wrestle, just to prove we’re strong enough to get each other’s backs. Then and only then, we’ll we be able to relax and communicate by only using grunts.

How to Sneak Liquor into a White Sox Game

Step One: Buy Liquor. It’s a long hike from the stadium to the liquor store, which is at 35th and Morgan. Make sure to purchase flask size bottles or smaller. Remove change from your pocket, so you’re not clanking at the gate.

Step Two: The Gate. Needless to say, act natural. Put the bottle in your pocket, and make sure the top isn’t sticking out. Security doesn’t check pockets, just purses. Don’t give head nods, or be funny. Just breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth, and try not to pass out from anxiety.

Step Three: Get Soda. Make sure to ask for extra ice. If you’re feeling brave, ask for ice and tell the vendor to fill it halfway with soda. The key to a good drink is a lot of ice and mixing it well. After you dump the whiskey in your coke (or whatever), fold the lid of the cup in half, and use it to mix your drink.

Step Four: Don’t get kick out. They’re pretty strict these days. You can get ejected just for throwing an away team’s homerun back on the field.

Commuter Confessions

I hate you in the car. I hate you in the truck. I hate you in the SUV. Your fumes smell like burning flesh. You accelerate, igniting another IED. You pump the blood of dead American soldiers into your tank. 89, 90, 92 octane, don't worry, bodies don't clog fuel injection systems.

The bus smells like piss and vomit. A drunk mother yells at her children. It's too crowded to get on. You fight to get off. Who are these people? You're better than them.

It's cold out, and it's a long walk to the train. It stops far from your destination. More walking makes your muscles sore. Or are your muscles sore from not walking?

Adults look funny on bicycles. Did you get a DUI? Are you working retail? Honking, jockeying, close calls. No respect. Does this thing run on steak and potatoes? It barely carries a grocery bag.

Take out your credit card and fight. Your aim is precise, smart even. Bam! More stuff. Bam! Less effort. Bam! You win. Blood flows through the streets in crude black rivers. Children watch it drain down the sewer pipes, thousands of miles from your home.

Printing pictures of body bags is illegal in the U.S. The legislative exhaust pipe keeps your conscious clean, O emissions from your decisions. Go drive to the store, buy some convenience, it won't kill you.

Love One Water

You may be sick of philanthropic water campaigns, but Love One is different. They're raising money for playpumps.org, which has invented a water pump powered by children playing on it.

Julia Mudre and I worked on some signage for Love One. It was promoted at the Race for Hope in downtown DC. Check it.

The Race:


Signage:










Learn more about Love One Water at OneDifference.org

Girlfriend Getaway

Promo work for Comfort Inn. So they give us the name of the sweepstakes, "The Comfort Inn Girlfriend Getaway with Every Day with Rachael Ray Magazine Sweepstakes." It's a mouthful. But thanks to Art Director extraordinaire, Sean Conrad, we came out with some cool looking stuff.

Print:


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I Heart, Whiskey

I drink whiskey to remember. I drink whiskey to forget. I drink whiskey to remember the time we tried to forget. I drink whiskey after work. I drink whiskey before bed. I drink whiskey, and then I see red. I drink whiskey by inches. I drink whiskey by feet. I drink whiskey, and then I repeat. Whiskey is my agent of change. Whiskey is my keynotes speech. Whiskey is my long walk on the beach. Whiskey is my friend request. Whiskey is my status update. I was drinking whiskey, sorry I’m late.

LOL Politics