Micah and I have a big bowl at home that we dump all our change into. There was easily over $100 in it, and today I decided to take it to the bank to cash it in. I dump the change into a big Ziplock baggy and take off for the bank.

As I'm walking down Waveland a homeless man approaches me. "Yo man, you got any change?"

And then, with a GIANT CLEAR BAG of coins in my hand I do my standard shrug and, "No, sorry."

I'm going to hell.

Today the weather had finally broken it's 100 degree hot streak. The sun was out, there was a cool breeze, and it was a wonderful summer day. How could it possibly get better? I thought to myself.

And then, at the corner of Broadway and Addison, I saw her.

She was wearing a pink t-shirt and pink shorts with her hair pulled back into a pony tail. She was 5 years old, and she was running a lemonade stand on the sidewalk.

"One cup," I said, and she squinted up at me and told me it'd be fifty cents, as the man she was with poured my lemonade.

I told her thank you, and she said thank you back while pushing up her glasses that looked far too big for her head, the way all little kids look with their glasses.

It was just a nice ending to a nice summer day.

And the lemonade wasn't that bad either.

The other day I was thinking...

It's likely that at some point or another in my life I'll get married. And with the divorce rate being what it is, there's a good chance that if I get married I'll get divorced.

So that means that there's somebody out there right now who I've never even met who will one day make my life miserable and who I will hate.

Makes you want to get out there and date, doesn't it?

The other day Joel is told that he has an appointment at 3:00 with someone named Jaime. Okay, great, Joel thinks, and walks out to the waiting area to greet her. Joel walks over and sticks out his hand to greet the girl when she asks, "Don't you remember me?"

Joel thinks to himself a moment. Does he remember her? Nope.

"It's me, Jaime!" Oh.... Yeah, still no.

And then it hits Joel. It hits Joel like a ton of bricks. Jaime is the waitress from Stella's. "Jaime! Hi!"

Evidently at some point during the dinner Jaime had found out that Joel was a stylist, and now she wanted something done about her bangs.

"So everything went okay?" I asked Joel after he told me his story. "Oh totally," Joel said. "Except she was a lot taller than I remember."

Well...that's something.

Last night I was watching Seinfeld. It was the one where they got stuck in the parking garage and couldn't find their car.

They finally get a woman to drive them around to find the car, only to cut to the car coming to a screeching halt, and the woman yelling, "Get out!", kicking them out of the car, and speeding off.

George: I didn't mean anything by it! I don't even know L. Ron Hubbard! I didn't know you were with that group!
Jerry: Wow, those Scientologists. They can be pretty sensitive.
Elaine: I'll say.

Was Seinfeld ahead of it's time or what? An episode from 1991 and they were already sticking it to the Scientologists.

...And Jerry doesn't even know the history of psychiatry. Tom does!

So Bush nominated a hardcore conservative for the Supreme Court. (Entire family jumps out of closet holding cake, pointy hats, streamers, and kazoos!) Surprise!

This morning in the elevator I overhear two women talking.

Woman #1: Yeah, it's gonna be great. All those girls from the south are gonna have to come up here to have abortions.
Woman #2: Haha! Yeah. (pause) Wait, why will abortions still be legal up here?
Woman #1: Because (said in a tone insinuating Woman #2 is an idiot), it's gonna be overturned but then it's gonna go to the states. And Illinois isn't gonna outlaw abortion.
Woman #2: Oohhhh! Thank God.

Again, when it comes to abortion, I have to side with the "One dick, no vote" rule. That's all I'm saying.

There's a new guy working in the kitchen at work. Yesterday he came out to the bar to get tonic out of the soda gun.

New Kitchen Guy: What's tonic? The 'T' button?
Me: No, tonic's Q.
NKG: Q?
Me: Yeah, for quinine
NKG: Okay, then what does T stand for?
Me: Nothing.
NKG: (getting confused) And which one is cranberry?
Me: M.
NKG: And is orange juice the orange button with the O on it?
Me: No, that's sweet and sour.

The kitchen guy looks at me confused and then goes back into the kitchen.

It makes sense to me. Is it a bartender thing?

Last night the mayor finally honored his reservation and came in. Cary says he comes in regularly, but I never see him.

"When Daley comes in make his Manhattan with a good whiskey," Cary told me. "Elmer T. Lee or something like that." "Sure thing," I said, then asked, "He drinks Manhattans?" Cary nodded and walked off.

And then I started thinking, Isn't it a bit ironic that the mayor of Chicago drinks Manhattans?

That'd be kind of like if Mayor Bloomberg really liked to listen to the band Chicago.

...Or something like that.

For those of you who didn't know, Helf manages a boat on Navy Pier. A fancy boat.

As a favor to him I agreed to work a few shifts bartending on the boat. During last week's shift I got really nauseous. "Do you need anything?" Bryce asked me at one point. "Cover my bar," I said, and staggered to the bathroom to throw up. Great shift!

Then yesterday there was some sort of run on strawberry daiquiris. There was even a woman who had never had a strawberry daiquari before. "It's really good," she told me, stunned. I nodded unenthusiastically. "And it's good for me too, right?" she asked, somehow thinking that because it had 'fruit' in it, it was healthy.

"I guess you could say that," I said in a tone that suggested that no, you actually couldn't say that. "I mean, it does have sugar and alcohol in it," I continued, but she wasn't really listening. And the strawberries you think are 'healthy' are actually red dye #7 and artificial flavoring. But sure, it's healthy. In fact, have another one and you won't have to go work out tomorrow!

Idiots.

The other day Kel and I were talking about my love life.

Kel: Josh, you go through women faster than I go through boxes of Marlboro Lights.
Me: How many packs a day Kel?
Kel: One fourth. (pause). Unless I'm drinking. And then it can be as bad as one and a half.
Me: It works the same for me too. When I'm drinking I go through them faster.

I'm not going to sugar coat it for you. I'm not going lie. I'm just going to tell you how it is. (deep sigh). Mike the Fike isn't doing well.

Mike has been steadily dropping leafs like they're going out of style (Which maybe they are. I don't keep up on the trends; Mike does).

So the other day I went to a website about Ficuses (Ficuses? Fici? I don't know) and it said that the Fikes enjoy being misted. So I started misting him. A daily routine grew. I would mist Mike and do my Katherine Hepburn impression while I talked to him (I figured, who better to be taking to a shedding, shaking plant than Shaky Kate?). Mike continued to drop leaves. Then I think I figured out the problem: Mike is a homophobe.

My first tip off was Kami's comment about looking at gay porn in front of Mike and having him shed. Then Micah told me about how Joel and him were making out on the sofa and Mike the Fike started dropping leafs like crazy. He clearly has a thing for guy-on-guy action. And to send the point home Mike dropped a leaf this morning when Micah kissed Joel goodbye.

So either Micah is going to have to move out, or I'm going to have to put a sheet over Mike the Fike. Maybe just some sunglasses. We'll see. Sophie (our other houseplant) never had these kind of problems. But then I guess she's just your typical fag hag.

I guess Shaky Kate isn't the best voice to use on a homophobic plant either.

(also, the Mike solution visualized, and just a general shot)

Yesterday Helf and I are out having a drink.

"How do you like your new job?" he asks. I tell him I like it a lot. "It's nice to not have to deal with all the gays," I say. Paul nods in understanding. "You know," I continue, "just to be off Halsted*."

Paul looks at me with confused amusement. "I'm sorry Joshy," he asks, "what street is your new job on?"

I think about it a minute and then scowl at him. "Halsted and Grand**," I say reluctantly.

Helf begins chuckling to himself. At least one of us is amused.

*North Halsted, also known as "the strip", is where all the gay bars are. The neighborhood it's in is known as Boystown.

**464 N Halsted. Far, far away from "the strip".

The other day I bought another house plant. Clearly it's turning into an epidemic.

I saw it sitting with the other plants and I thought, "That ficus is for me!"

"How much light does this need?" I ask the woman working by the plants. "Some," she says. "Not direct light, but don't keep it in a cave either." I wonder how many people buy house plants to brighten up their cave. "It's kind of a neurotic plant," the woman continues. "It doesn't deal well with change. It may drop a lot of leaves when you first get it home, but it just has to get used to you." Great! I think to myself, A plant that's neurotic, just like me. A perfect fit.

As I carry the 6 foot ficus out of the store I begin talking to it. "It's going to be fine," I tell it. "We've got a great home for you." I think that I should name the plant immediately, unlike my indecision with the previous house plant. I decide on Mike. Mike the Fike.

"You'll like our place Mike," I tell him. "It's a swell place. You'll have it made in the shade." I hear the error in my cliche and revise. "I mean, um, you'll have it made in the indirect sunlight."

I tell Mike all about the other plant, which we've since named Sophie. "She's nice. Green, leafy. I mean, if you like that sort of thing in a girl."

The more I walk the heavier Mike gets. I consider a cab but Mike is pretty tall and probably won't fit. I opt for the bus. When we get on Mike and I are the only ones riding it. I hope to myself that someone else will get on so that I can pretend I don't know Mike; as if a plant is just riding the bus by itself. Plants day out! I want to give Mike his independence.

When I get Mike home I set him up in a good spot. He immediately drops several leafs. It's going to be a rough ride.

A have a wisdom tooth coming in. It's forcing me to bite the inside of my mouth, and as a result I can't chew anything. I've eaten nothing but soup and pudding for the past few days.

This morning I decided to go out and buy something to put on the inside of my mouth to stop the swelling.

I scan the aisles at Walgreens, finding the mouth medicine section. There's products for canker sores, baby teething, and the like. I finally find a package for "cheek bites" which I think is what my wisdom tooth is doing to the inside of my mouth (and is the only real pain I'm in). The package has a happy couple with big smiles on it. They wouldn't set me wrong I think to myself.

At the checkout counter the woman asks me, "Mouth problems?" I tell her about my wisdom tooth.

"I'm studying to be a dentist," she tells me. "I'm fascinated with all things mouth." I then notice that she's wearing braces.

I ask if she has any tips on what I could do to help myself. "Just get them yanked out," she says. "That's what I did with mine. Even before they came out all the way. Get them yanked out."

In my head I assure my teeth that I will not yank them out and to the checkout girl I say thanks. I've had wisdom teeth come in before, and nobody is getting yanked out.

When I get home I smear the awful tasting stuff on the inside of my cheek. It tastes like novocaine, and I soon realize that it has the same effects. The side of my mouth and tongue feel tingly, and soon are numb completely. One side of my lip droops a bit. I look a bit like Michael Douglas, or as though I've had a stroke. I'm afraid that if I try and drink water it will dribble down my chin.

I just want solid foods again.

Last night at work Cary tells me that Mayor Daley is coming in for dinner. The mayor comes in every month or two and nobody at work really pays much attention to it.

Dana comes up to the bar to enter something in the computer. "Ugh, I have to wait on the mayor," she says. "Yeah, poor you," I tell her.

"Well it's just that you have to act all proper and well behaved," she says.

"Yo! Rich!" I yell out. That's how I would greet the mayor.

For the rest of the night I mock her tone, as if she were a teenager who had to clean the garage. "Ohmigod! I, like, totally have to wait on the mayor! Ugh!"

...In the end Daley never even comes. Dana is relieved. I'm sad that I never got to use my, 'Yo! Rich!'.

Oh well. If the entire city was slowly turning against me because of all my scandals I probably wouldn't be too anxious to go out to dinner either.

For the Fourth of July weekend my sister is in town with her two kids. That's right. I'm an uncle. Uncle Josh to be exact.

"Who's your favorite uncle?" I ask Christopher, my nephew at age 5. "Uncle Micah," he says. Uncle Micah?!

I take a twenty dollar bill out of my wallet and hand it to him. "Who's your favorite uncle now?" Christopher examines the twenty dollar bill. I assure him it's not a fake. "Uncle Micah," he says again.

Later on my sister gives me several brand new Matchbox cars to give to Christopher. "This is the way to his heart," she assures me.

"Look at what I've got here!" I announce with mock surprise, pulling tiny cars out of my shirt pocket. "Wow!" Christopher says, wide eyed.

"Who's your favorite uncle now?" I ask again. "Uncle Micah," he says.

I soon realize that adults are much easier to bribe than children. Adults get it.

I cannot win. I am the #2 uncle. I give up and head out to the backyard to grab a cocktail.

Yesterday on the train...

Number of people listening to an iPod: 5
Number of people listening to something other than an iPod: 1
Henceforth, number of suckers: 1

That's right. Henceforth, even.