The following story happened about a year and a half ago when Brett, Kellie, Nik, and I went out to dinner at Angelina's. As our sever came over I recognized him and said, "I know you, but I can't remember your name." "It's Brett" he told me, and then looked confused. "How do I know you?" he asked, and I told him that my brother was Micah. "Ah, North End," he said. "That's like my Cheers. Where everybody knows my name, although they're not always glad I came."

We have a little laugh and then Brett (the friend) ordered a bottle of wine and Brett (the server) went off to go get it.

Brett (the server) came back with the bottle, presenting it to Brett (the friend), and then poured a bit in his glass. Brett (the friend) took a sip. "Brilliant!" he says, and Brett (the server) smiles.

As Brett (the server) goes around the rest of the table pouring wine Kellie laughs at Brett's (the friend) overdramatic antics and says, "Oh Brett, I love you." I bite my tongue and stifle a laugh.

"What's so funny?" Kellie asks.

After our server leaves I say, "Well when our server was coming around to pour our wine you said, 'I love you Brett,' but he doesn't realize that our Brett's name is Brett so..."

Kellie puts her head down in her hands.

"You were telling our server that you love him."

The other night at work we have a huge table of Europeans and they're big on the Perrier.

John: They sure are drinking a lot of Perrier.
Me: Yeah, they're going through the stuff like it's water!

My favorite mistakes:

*Dying my hair blonde for picture day. (1997)
*The Sheryl Crow song, My Favorite Mistake. (1998)
*Having a friend set me up for a blind date to Homecoming. (1999)
*Thinking, "A little smoke from under the hood of the car can't be that bad." (2000)
*Thinking that someone I meet in a bar has a good chance of turning into a long-term relationship. (2000-present)
*Attending Columbia. (2001)
*Saying to a woman, "I don't mind that you're a Republican." (2002)
*My impromptu cross-country train trip to Reno. (2005)
*Those black pants I bought at Crossroads. (2006)

So I'm done with Jargon.

Remember that online magazine you kept hearing me go on and on about, and post links to? Right, that one. Well my time there is over.

The magazine itself will still be around, I've just decided that it was taking up too much of my time and energy and that I need to focus on other things right now.

Maybe that means my blogs here will get better? ...Maybe not.

Stick around and find out.

The other night I'm talking to Danielle.

Danielle: So I'm watching the Borat movie.
Me: At home?
Danielle: Yup. One of the many joys of Boyfriend's roommate who pirates stuff. Though in general I'm not a big fan of pirating.
Me: On the plus side you do get to say "yaaarrrr!" a lot when you do.
Danielle: True.
Me: That and "Shiver me illegally downloaded timbers!"

The most annoying thing overheard at work the other night:

"Dude, we're living in a post-9/11 world."

The other night at work Christine is in a sing-song mood before our shift starts.

She serenades me with: "You are the sunshine of my life. That's why I let you make my drinks." She pauses, then: "I wrote that for you today, Josh."

"Um," I begin to correct her. "Actually, I think Ste-"

"I wrote it!" Christine snaps.

"Okay, okay. You wrote it. Sheesh."

But if Stevie presses charges, don't say I didn't warn you.

Lizze likes Star Trek: The Next Generation. And that's one of the things I like about Lizze. Not everyone shares the feeling.

Today, at the gym in her building, Lizze ran into this woman who she sees occasionally while working out (skinny, blonde, can run on the treadmill for a long time without looking like she's going to keel over - you know the type).

"Do you mind if I change the channel?" Lizze asked the woman out of politeness, as the woman had on her iPod and wasn't even really watching TV.

The blonde sneered. "You're not going to put on Star Trek, are you?"

The other night Kel and I are walking past a restaurant on Clark and she glares at a sign in their window. "That always bugs me," she says and points to a sign that says, "Restroom for Customer's Only."

"There shouldn't be an apostrophe in 'Customers'. It's so wrong."

I think for a moment. "What if there were people with the last name Customer," I suggest. "Like Phil Customer and his wife Gloria Customer. And they had a son named Only. And he was the only person who could use that bathroom. Then would a sign saying, "Restroom for Customer's Only" be correct?"

Kel thinks about it for a second and says, "Yeah, I guess it would. Though to be grammatically correct it should then read, "Restroom for the Customer's Only," and even then it's still awful wording."

I suggest to her that we write the restaurant with our suggestions and complaints and see what they say. We'll see what happens.

The other night Derrick and I are watching a table made up for an older couple and a younger couple. Derrick comments that the only reason the younger couple is faking interest in what the older couple has to say is that they stand to inherit something when the older couple dies.

Me: I wish I was in line to inherit something.
Derrick: Like what?
Me: I don't know. I'd take pretty much anything. I mean, the only thing I've inherited so far is this gap in my front teeth and a predisposition for being emotionally closed off.

Awkward yet acceptable dubs for the next Star Trek movie, if it were to have swears that would need to be re-dubbed for a network television airing.

"What the [ferengi] are you doing up there?"

"Like [spock] I will!"

"[Phaser] you and the [federation] ship you rode in on!"

"You bet your [dilithium crystals] I'm mad!"

"Shut the [borg] up!"

The other night I'm working behind the bar when I see a mom walking around the restaurant with her 5-year-old who has gotten restless at the table.

"Do you want to go to the bar?" she asks him in a put-on talking-to-a-child voice. "Do you want to have a drink? Huh?"

I get the impression that it's actually the mother that could use a drink and that she's simply projecting at this point.

The mother continues. "What do you say to the bartender, huh? 'Can I have a drink?' Huh? And what would the bartender say?"

I lean towards the child. "I'd say that I have to see some ID."

I'm leaving the house this morning, hungover and in need of food.

I've been walking about a block when a man stops me and asks where Sheridan is. My head spinning I start to point west, then north, then-

A woman walking behind me says, "It's a block that way," and points east. The man thanks her and we all continue along.

I turn to the woman who gave correct directions. I want to tell her I'm just hungover. I want to tell her I know these streets like the back of my hand. I want to tell her I was momentarily thinking of Sheffield, and then I thought of that part of Sheridan up north where it dog-legs and starts to run east-west. Instead, all I blurt out is, "I knew that. Really."

"Uh huh," she says, smiling at me the way a teacher smiles at "special" child when he grabs the right color block.

Alcohol really does make you look stupid.

A couple days ago Variety wrote an obituary for VHS.

sniff! sniff! It's so sad.

The other night I'm over at Kel's, entertaining myself with the New Yorker while she's washing dishes. I turn to the backpage where they print a captionless cartoon and ask you to come up with your own.

I hold the magazine up on front of Kel:

"This is what we get for building on a corporate burial ground."

She laughs, saying, "That's funny but I don't really get what it means."

"Perfect," I say. "Just like a real New Yorker cartoon."

Yesterday I saw a AAA Motor Club truck on the street. On the side of the truck it said, "AAA Batteries Delivered & Installed!"

Now I understand that they meant batteries from the American Automobile Association, but what if someone just really needed help putting some batteries into their TiVo remote?

On Sunday's episode of The Simpsons Bart and Milhouse are trolling around the mall when Milhouse announces, "I want to stop by Banana Republic. There's a mannequin there I have a crush on."

I tell this to Kellie and Michelle (both of whom work at Banana Republic), and Michelle starts cracking up.

"That's great," she tells me. "Especially because our mannequins don't have heads."

Perhaps Milhouse just has a case of vincraniumis (a headless fetish).

The other day I'm hanging out with Joel and he starts to tell me about his new boyfriend, Patrick.

Joel: He's really sweet. And the other night he came over and we made beef wellington.
Me: Uh huh. See Joel, I'm not really up on all the gay lingo. What exactly does "made beef wellington" mean?
Joel: The dish, Joshua! Beef wellington!
Me: Right. Yeah, I still don't know what that means. Like is it the-
Joel: The regular food. Beef wellington. It's not lingo.
Me: If you don't want to tell me it's cool. I'd probably rather not know what it means.
Joel: (sigh)
Me: Do you plan on having butt steak next time?

For some reason I started receiving lots of spam e-mail in what appeared to be Spanish that my spam blocker wasn't catching (perhaps because it appeared to be in Spanish).

I decided to translate the latest e-mail using Babel Fish at AltaVista. It didn't seem to really be working right and that's when I realized it wasn't even Spanish, it was Portuguese! And it translates thusly:

Subj: I adore You

It is enough to click ABOVE!

Sadly, the message was not enough to click above. Plus who knows what kind of sites the Portuguese are trying to get me to. Weirdos.

At Seattle's Best the barista asks me if I want whip cream on my hot chocolate.

Me: Nah, that's okay.
Barista: Are you kidding me?
Me: Am I kidding you? No. I don't want whip cream.
Barista: Why not?
Me: Because I don't.
Barista: C'mon.
Me: No.
Barista: C'mon!
Me: No.
Barista: How about just a little splidge? (I swear to you he used the word splidge.)
Me: Fine, just a splidge.
Barista: (He applies the splidge) There you go. And then- (he reaches for a squeeze bottle full of something brown.)
Me: What's that?
Barista: Chocolate sauce.
Me: I don't want any chocolate sauce.
Barista: Well you've got whip cream. You've gotta have chocolate sauce.
Me: But I didn't even want whip cream!
Barista: It goes together.
Me: Fine.
Barista: (He then uses tongs to pick up something that looks like a Kit Kat bar and puts it on top.)
Me: Seriously? There's more?
Barista: Just wait.
Me: I don't want any more!
Barista: Just hold on. (He then takes his tongs and picks up some white chocolate flakes and sprinkles them over the cup.)
Me: Are you kidding me?!
Barista: It all goes together.
Me: But I didn't want any of it!
Barista: (Grabs a sheet off the wall showing drinks, lists their ingredients, and their garnishes.) Well this is how I'm supposed to make it.
Me: But that's not how I wanted it.
Barista: It'll be good, I promise.
Me: It better be.
Barista: It will be.
Me: 'Cause if it isn't I'm taking my dollar tip back, I swear to god!
Barista: If it isn't I'll make you a new one without the stuff.
Me: Well alright then.

I walk off with my unnecessarily decorated hot chocolate. It tastes like hot chocolate. Sigh.

Tonight at work I answered the phone.

Me: Hello?
Woman: Yes, is Josh there?
Me: I'm sorry, he died.
Woman: What? What happened?
Me: It was this bizarre bottle accident. A bunch of wine just fell on him.
Woman: Wow.
Me: Yeah. Tragic.
Woman: So what time do you get off?

Bernadette and I have been friends for 5 years, of course I recognize her voice.

This afternoon for lunch I had Chinese food. My fortune cookie read: "Your dearest wish will come true."

It's been almost an hour since I cracked open that cookie and I still don't have a Volvo XC90. What gives?

Again, bored at work, Massimo and I go to work on making lists. This time, it's creating new band names by putting together two different things (two words from one thing, two words from a second thing, ideally three words altogether). These were the new band names we came up with. Enjoy.

*Albert Brooks Brothers
*Burger King Kong
*Tommy Lee Harvey Oswald
*SBCBS
*Dental Plan B
*Michael Jackson Browne
*Dr. Strangelove is All You Need
*Aaron Spelling Bee
*David Lynch Mob
*Johnnie Walker Texas Ranger
*Burt Bacharach of Lamb

[note: this idea was originally used in Dave Eggers' A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, where Eggers cited the band names Van Gogh Dog Go, Kajagoogubernatorial Process, JFKFC and Spike Lee Major Tom Dick and Harry Connick Jr. Mints]

This morning I'm scheduled to meet up with Bernadette so we can go vote. I call her when I wake up.

"Hello?" she answers, greeting me with her best unintentional Kathleen Turner voice. "Did I just wake you?" I ask "Did you make it to class?"

There's a pause. "Oh, I made it to class. But I think I'm still drunk from last night." Sigh.

I get to Bernadette's and she meets me at the door in jeans, a big sweater and a hat pulled down over her eyes. "Loves it!" she announces. We make our way over to the local polling place and Bernadette immediately starts sizing up the tall, dark haired man in front of us in line. "Well hello there," Bernadette says under her breath. I shoot her a look that says: "It's 10 in the morning, you're still drunk from last night and we're voting. Do not do this." Bernadette puts her back casually against a door frame, leaning backwards and posing, keeping her eyes on the guy in front of us. I keep my head down and turn to watch the older woman in charge of finding voters names in her big book and ripping out their information to show they've voted. She's been flustered, confused and slow since we've gotten there. The young guy in charge of the room has been watching her with an exasperated look on his face the entire time.

When I finally get to the woman with the big book of names I take out my voters registration card. "Eisenbery," I tell her reluctantly, and she starts looking through the I's. "No, it's with an E," I correct her, "not an I." "I know, honey," she says, still flipping through the I's. When she announces after 30 seconds that she can't find it I again say, "That's because it starts with E-I-S." "I know," she says again, irritated with me but not straying from the I's. I look around, wondering if I'm being Punk'd. After 30 more seconds I can't help but announce again: "It's, um, it's with an E, not an I." She pauses, mid page flip. "Oh," she says, a light bulb going off over her head. "Oh, E." Had I been speaking another language?

She hands me my voting sheet and as I walk to my booth I hear a thud. "Oh, my coffee spilled!" she announces. I cannot believe our votes are in the hands of this woman. "Well, it was good while it lasted," she says to the room in general.

I feel the same way about my faith in this country's voting system.

The other night at work Christine and I are talking about her school.

Christine: Y'know, I can see things that other people can't see.
Me: You can?
Christine: Like in class, when I read some of the poems and I analyze them in this way that other people just don't get, and it's like "whoa".
Me: Oh. (pause) I thought you meant like, you could see dead people.

Last night I'm out drinking. It isn't pretty.

Jenny (867-5309) starts playing in the bar. I come up with the brilliant idea that I am going to call 867-5309 and see who answers.

I dial. "Beep! Boop! Bop! The number you have dialed: Eight. Six. Seven. Five. Three. Zero. Nine. Has been disconnected. Please check the number and dial again."

"Well of course it's been disconnected," Kel tells me, "because idiots like you keep trying to call after midnight."

The other night I went to karaoke and there was a disturbing amount of Chicago (the musical, not the band) songs being performed.

Micah: Maybe it has something to do with Ashlee Simpson getting into Chicago.
Me: Maybe.
Micah: How did she manage to get in the show anyway? She can't sing.
Me: It's because it's the production over in England. Anybody can get into a show over there.
Micah: True.
Me: Hell, I played Benjamin Braddock in The Graduate over there for six weeks!

The other day Kel and I stopped by Borders and got some coffee from the brand new Seattle's Best that had opened inside.

On the drink board there was a drink named Javakula. And while I assumed that it was pronounced "jah-va cool-la" a part of me wished that it was "ja-vahk-you-la" (as in, Javakula, the coffee loving vampire).

I asked the barista behind the counter what Javakula was. He replied, "It's a blended coffee drink mixed with a flavor of your choice."

My spirits fell. Alas, the Dark Prince of Caffeine, Javakula, will have to wait 'til another day.

The other day at work Massimo and I came up with a list of movie sequels that should never be made. They are:

*Speed 3: Outta Control Scooter!
*Back to the Future IV: Return to Last Tuesday
*The Santa Clause 4: The Personal Injury Clause
*James Bond: The Yesterday That Lasted Forever
*Ocean's 14: Tess Pops Out Some Kids!
*Mission Impossible 4: Save Tom Cruise's Career
*Star Trek 13: The Quest for Dignity
*Under Siege 3: Steven Segal's Hip Replacement Surgery Under Siege
*Ernest Goes to AA
*Star Wars Episode VII: Wookie Madness
*Jay & Silent Bob Go on Welfare
*The Great Muppet Orgy

Any I'm missing?

Last night, as part of my yearly tradition, I spent Halloween passing out candy at Bernadette's house.

The best costume belonged to a 7-year-old dressed as a homeless man. He was wearing raggedy clothing, had dirt on his face and was wearing a bandanna on his head. The icing on the cake, however, was the fact that he was pulling a small shopping cart full of crap behind him. How his parents were okay with this, I don't know.

The rest of the costumes were pretty average, although the kids seemed younger than I remember. Bees and butterflies. Firemen and pirates. The usual.

Then, some adults stopped in front of the house. As their kids ran ahead to the next house the dad pulled a red, metal Radio Flyer wagon to a stop in front of Bernadette's house. The mom swayed a bit on her feet and squatted down next to the red wagon. She pushed aside some plastic bags and a flashlight and pulled back a blanket. Underneath she pulled out some blue plastic cups (the kind with the white insides), some ice, and a full size bottle of Belvedere vodka. Holding the Belvedere in one hand and a blue cup in the other, she looked up at her husband still holding the wagon handle and asked, "Do we have any more of the Pom?"

For serious? You're cocktailing while your kids are trick or treating? I love alcohol as much as the next guy, but c'mon.

And I have to say, I've heard of some parents bringing a beer or something along for the walk, but a mobile bar? Only in Lincoln Park.