Tuesday, March 17, 2009

This Has Always Been A Good Neighborhood.

At the parade on Sunday, I realized that I know absolutely nothing about the South Side Irish, much less the parade itself, because Bowser zeh German asked if we were in a dangerous neighborhood and I was like, "It used to be." And then I pointed west. "Go that way."

"No it wasn't," Gyna corrected me. "Beverly's always been super Irish and like, family oriented. The neighborhoods that are all 'dangerous' are east, over there."

"No, but like, twenty years ago? Wasn't it worse off?"

(By the way, I have such a loose grip on reality that the phrase "like twenty years ago" comprises everything that happened from like, 1965 to 2000.

For example: "You know, like twenty years ago when we were in 'Nam..."

"You didn't go to 'Nam, you have to call it 'Vietnam'."

"Fine, whatever, but like twenty years ago--"

"And dude, Vietnam was like forty years ago."

"Whatever, fucking 1970, alright?"

Similarly, anyone older than I am whose age I don't know exactly is "like, forty," whether they're thirty-two or fifty-seven. My boss is "like, forty" and my landlord is "like, forty" and my aunt is "like, forty" and I'm sure their ages are scattered throughout a quarter of a century. And, pre-emptively: no, I don't care about your feelings.)

"No," Gyna shakes her head and laughs with this masterful, logical, unoffensive sneer that like, discredits my thought process with as much admiration as possible. I'm a jackass, yes, but in a puppy kind of way, as long as I stop talking and let Gyna continue, "This has always been a like, solid, safe community. All families of cops and fireman. This isn't the ghetto, it's not like there are like, drug busts and drive bys occurring daily here. Or at all."

I did know that. "Yeah, I know, but--"

"No, seriously, this has always been a good neighborhood. My mom grew up here. It's known for it," she repeats for emphasis.

I decide to shut up, because I was about to head into that territory where I make things up to prove a point that I didn't realize I wanted to make in the first place.

So anyway, after dumping some beers into solo cups we walked the mile to the parade route, and I spilled all over myself about seventeen times. I blame the city of Chicago and their lack of roadwork, because earlier that morning, our transport bus was aiming for potholes, so my beer and Jameson breakfast was all jostled and squeamish.

Poor Germans. I wonder if they felt uncomfortable, with Gyna and I straight up prowling for hot uniformed men. This is St. Paidi's: subtlety is for losers, dicknose.

Eventually we picked a spot on the fence about six feet from a street cop. We had to get ourselves situated. In actuality, I'm not quite sure that establishing a fixed position is really required to get drunk and yell at people, but whatever. This is the only day of the year that no one will get mad at me for drunken obnoxiery, so situated I must remai--awwwwwwww fuck I got beer all over myself.

Gyna is a parade veteran and loud as balls, so when she started her good-natured heckling at all of the local businesses and schools that participate in the parade, it was only natural that I played too, because really? Yelling is good. Moreso when it's appropriate to yell and splatter beer on yourself while you're leaning up against a paddywagon and saluting an officer of the law.

"Happy St. Patrick's Day, officer."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

But soon all attention was focused on the parade before us, and Gyna asked every single person, "What’s under your kilt?” Which begat the tardation of hecklery.

"Please tell me that's a hovercraft."

"Woooooo hot cop! Gimme some candy!"

“The Metropolitan Water Reclamation District of Greater Chicago is a service that we strongly feel is taken for granted on a daily basis!”

“You create a drinkable water supply for all of our residents and that is appreciated!”

“Shitty water is bullshit!”



"No way, LOOK AT THAT DOG! Who's a good boy? Who's a good little doggie in a little fireman shirt?"

"Your bow tie is good!"

"Play that bagpipey-accordiany thing, yeah!"

"How did your hair get so curly?"

Yeah, look at you, rockin' out to B96! Your radio station sucks!"

"B96 is for posers and douchebags!"

"You made your costume yourself, didn't you? Yeah, I can tell, looks good!"

"You bedazzled the fuck out of that shirt and I envy you!"

"Old guy in a trolley! OLD GUY! IN. A. TROLLEY! Best trolley conductor ever!"

"Muscular dystrophy is for assholes and I support your organization's attempt at bettering society!"

...and the like.



derfina said...

You really MUST come do Mardi Gras one day.

Mrs. Booms said...

"I decide to shut up, because I was about to head into that territory where I make things up to prove a point that I didn't realize I wanted to make in the first place"

This is me entirely, except the shutting up part. I forget to do that.

I just argue and make up things that sound true and the more I talk the more I hate the sound of my own voice.

paperback reader said...

I am typically anti-parade, but that is because the catcalls and cheers are not up to snuff. I say parades start hiring you to fix this problem.

"Despite the utter creepiness of both child pageants and the e'er-present pageant moms, I wholeheartedly support your unabashed love for this city and its working Irish population, 6 year old tiara-ed girl!"

Anonymous said...

Muscular dystrophy is for assholes? I think Jerry Lewis has a new slogan.....

Anonymous said...

so did anything bad happen to confirm your sense of foreboding??

Anonymous said...

Please come to Utah on July 24 for the big Pioneer Day parade. It's a humongous holiday to celebrate the arrival of the Mormons, and LDS families camp on the parade route in SLC all night, eating ice cream and playing Rock, Paper, Scissors for fun.

They need you.

Anonymous said...

And to add to your parade-invited-ness--May 16--Rodeo Parade, Franklin, Tennessee. Finger sandwiches. Mimosas. Ponies.

Nikki B. said...


green dogs, wearing fireman t-shirts...hot cops and curly-headed guys with kilts and bagpipey things and bowties and bodacious bedazzled shirts and awesome old guys in trolleys...

sounds like a BADASS neighborhood!!!

Anonymous said...

"You bedazzled the fuck out of that shirt..." I MUST use that line at the first available opportunity.

Lailani Ali said...

Chicagoans are sooooo loud and soooo drunk. I'm coming to Chicago to participate in such things. Watch out.

Anonymous said...

I just love you Rassles.

Anonymous said...

finally- it was just too fun NOT to get this recap. i feel like i remember 20% more of the day reading this. thank you.

other favorite phrases from the day:
"whoa! your dog looks like a horse and that is AWESOME."

"that dog is wearing a t-shirt. i like when animals wear human clothes"

"hey that's a shetland pony- hey i like your shetland pony. and wow- you decorated your horse like a my little pony and that is awesome"

"i wish i had an awesome sparkly headband like yours"

and a later bar comment-
"duuuude he got more excited than me to hear whitney houston's i wanna dance with somebody. weird"

Kinton said...

"Whatever, fucking 1970, alright?"

Lailani wants to come to Chicago and visit you. I wanted to keep you in my funny bloggie world.

But that sentence, just pushed me over the edge into visit-you-land.

Le Meems said...

Oops, that was my "Paid Blog Cap" I was wearing back there.

It's just me, Melissa...

Rygantron said...

I agree: "muscular dystrophy is for assholes" & "shitty water is bullshit" are screaming to be made into t-shirts.

Rassles said...

Derf: Although Mardi Gras is not in my future, I'll be in New Orleans on Saturday, so...look out, Nola. You're gettin' Rasslefied.

Boomer: Usually I forget to do that. It's this new thing I'm trying: Feet do not belong in mouths. The guy in the sky put them at opposite ends of the body for a reason. However, if that was honestly the original intention, he wouldn't have given us flexibility...

Pistols: Exactly. In fact, I think I said that exact same thing at one point, except instead of a tiara, it was "

Ginny: Do you know anyone who supports muscular dystrophy? Because I guarantee you they're an asshole.

Schmee: No, except I felt extremely old, and I realized that no matter how cool you think you are, it is always obnoxious to sing along to classic rock songs.

Erin: I am amazing at Rock, Paper, Scissors. I cannot shoot hoops, but damn if I don't throw a hot paper. I almost went the the World Championship in Vegas. At least, I would have gone, if I had ever competed in professional Rochambeau. I promise.

Franklin: You had me at mimosas, and then you threw in the ponies, and my head exploded.

Nikki: I'm pretty sure I could only really deal with it one day out of the year, because it's enough. Currently I'm working on making my neighborhood more awesome.

Meagan: I think you should just walk around saying it to people and taking Polaroids of their reactions.

LaiLani: That first sentence was probably the truest phrase ever typed.

Mongo: Right back at cha, homes.

Gyna: I completely forgot about the My Little Pony, and I'm distraught at my poor memory. I blame it on beer. And what are we going to do when zeh Germans are gone? I'm afraid.

Meems: Using my exemplary detective skills, I figured it out. But thanks.

Ry: I'm drawing up the plans for a Threadless as we speak.

A Free Man said...

"Which begat the tardation of hecklery."

I think I have a crush on you.

Bluestreak said...

Dude. I do miss a good St. Pattys day.

~Mountain Lover~ said...

I always tell people I'll be there in 10 minutes- no matter if I'm still 40 minutes away at home, or right outside their door.

Happy belated St. Patty's day.