In the latest issue of UR Chicago (In which I may or may not have some book reviews on page 20 - not that I'm keeping track), Elizabeth Drew has a blurb about Bluebird Bistro & Wine Bar. She begins her review:

"It's a bird! It's a plane! It's another bar in Bucktown!"

Oh, Elizabeth. Wise. That's what you are.

I now present the kind of conversation that can only happen between two brothers. Enjoy.

Micah: This turkey is kind of spicy.
Me: Just like me!
Micah: You're not spicy.
Me: Uh, yeah I am.
Micah: Yeah. You're really spicy in that polo shirt.
Me: Your face is a polo shirt.
Micah: Did you just call my face a polo shirt?
Me: Whatever.

Fin.

For some reason I'm trapped in an Italian film from 1960. And I'm singing. Luckily there are subtitles. So, I mean, you'll have some idea of what's going on.

In celebration of Rosh Hashanah, Danielle and I have decided to take our comedy act on the road. We practiced earlier today.

Danielle: Hey Josh, do you fast on Yom Kippur?
Me: Eh, no faster than usual.
Ba Dum CHING!
Me: So Danielle, I went on a date earlier this week with this girl who was half Jewish.
Danielle: The top half or the bottom half?
Ba Dum CHING!

We'll be here all week! ...Or at least until sundown!

Back in January I briefly (briefly!) went out with a woman named, let's say, Betty.

Tonight Betty sent me a MySpace message saying:

So it occurred to me today that EVERY boy I've dated this year has been Jewish. They haven't necessarily looked alike or anything like that. They're just all been Jewish. Is this some kind of infection?! Can it be transfered through the skin or an airborne illness? Is there a common theme of dating Jewish men in anyone you know? Should the proper authorities be made aware of this?

My response?

Evidently you're unfamiliar with the expression "Once you've had a Jew, nothing else will do."

You're in it for the long haul now. There's no escaping.

It's true. Beware.

The other night Ruth and I came up with a show called We're Not That Different, You and I. It would be a show where people learned valuable life lessons and realized that we're really not all that different. We figured it'd be on some smart/educational station like PBS or public access.

Then, later that night I was on the phone with my old friend Rupert and I told him about our show. "I bloody love it, mate!" he told me, and he said that he wanted to buy it. I politely told Rupert that I wasn't trying to pitch him the idea, I was just talking about it, but he refused to take no for an answer.

So basically what I'm trying to tell you is that We're Not That Different, You and I is going to be on FOX this fall. And somehow it's been turned into a reality show. Oh, and Ryan Seacrest is hosting it. Perhaps you've seen ads for it. They look something like this:

Today I have a guest!

Byron and I discuss Britney Spears, Kanye West, and "Smiling with your eyes." Yeah, I had no idea what that meant either.

Yesterday Byron and I had a slow day. So what did we do? We made a commercial for Boys from Jupiter.

I expound on bad hair. Expound!

Oh fall, you've finally arrived.

Last week in the newspaper I noticed an tiny ad for a computer training business. The ad asked:

"Need computer help? Vista curious?"

Vista curious? Is that anything like bi curious?

Oh crap. I've found a new medium.

It's almost 10 am on a Monday morning, and I'm sitting in a coffee shop on Sheffield. There is only one other customer in the shop, a girl sitting on a sofa with her laptop.

I open iTunes, and iTunes is kind enough to show me any shared playlists I have access to. And there, highlighted in blue on the left side of my screen, is Leema.

The concept of shared playlists in iTunes when you're on the same wireless connection with someone is an odd thing. I don't know Leema. I've never seen her before in my life. But I get to look at all the music she has on her computer, and by looking at her choices I immediately get a sense of her. She likes The Cure a lot. And Bjork. She has the Garden State soundtrack, but what twenty-something doesn't? She has Journey's Greatest Hits, but from looking at her I'm guessing she owns it ironically. And she seems to have a collection of Jewish Klezmer music.

She has a small stash of This American Life episodes, and I find an interesting looking one and start listening to it. As usual, Ira expounds in a nasally voice, and the interviewee shares some private details of their life. And then, about 20 minutes through the episode I'm listening to, the talking stops.

I've been disconnected from Leema.

I look up to see that she has closed her laptop, is putting it in her bag, and in a minute she will have walked out of the coffee shop.

iTunes shared playlists giveth, and iTunes shared playlists taketh away.

The other day Kristine and I started emailing each other in poetry.

On 9/8/07, stine wrote:

I've decided:
Poetry
Makes
emails with
Little content
Better

On 9/8/07, josh wrote:

I love the haiku
It just feels better to me
I cannot say why

I'm writing right now
Synopsis of ***************
For a ********** job

My brain is clogging
I don't know what I'm doing
Hope I don't get fired

On 9/8/07, stine wrote:

Why
I ask
Is a web designer
Working on a
**** synopsis?

On 9/8/07, josh wrote:
That's a good question
Because I'm over my head
But getting paid well

I am a sell-out
Didn't you know that by now?
It's very, very, very true

Since Wednesday I've been in the suburbs, cat sitting for a friend while they are on vacation.

The list of places my phone has no reception includes (though is not limited to):

-The house I'm cat sitting at
-The local Starbucks (because it's the only coffee place in town I can get work done at)
-The movie theater
-The front yard and back yard of the house I'm cat sitting at
-The library

Marooned. That's what I am.

A few more names I've received email spam from recently:

-Moon Q. Canteloupe
-Gnarls H. Thompkins
-Juana Lara (to which I'd respond, "Not particularly. Why? Do you wanna Lara?")
-Xuannhu Guilford
-Aldo Boyle
-Johnie Pagan

I'm not sure if I should be saddened that spammers think I would believe these were real names, or if I should be jealous that mine name isn't Gnarls H. Thompkins or Johnie Pagan.

...Which, now that I think about it, sounds like a rockin' occult bad boy from the '50s.

"The names Johnie Pagan, baby! Hop in my T-Bird, we'll practice some black magic, and everything'll be koo-koo crazy!"

Byron and I have a client that needs us to come up with a name for a new product they're launching. The software "allows us to see work from any point in the world, to route work anywhere in the world, and for people to be doing different functions on the same work from different locations at the same time."

Over lunch Byron and I toss around names. "I was looking up Latin and Italian words for ideas," I tell him. Byron nods thoughtfully. "I was looking up Greek gods," he says.

I say, "I wonder if there was a Greek god of organization and file sharing."

So I switched hosting platforms today. If the blog was AWOL for a while, that was why.

Also, it kind of messed with my comments, so the old ones have disappeared for now.

I'm working on it, people. I swear.

This afternoon I'm waiting for my elevator and a neighbor from down the hall walks up with a friend of his. They nod at me without smiling as we stand and wait for the elevator.

I occasionally talk to this neighbor in passing. Him and his friend are both about a year older than me and they both have bags of golf clubs over their shoulders. I won't tell my neighbor's name here, but he shares a name with a Flintstones character. And not a normal one, like Fred or Barney.

Guy: So dude, what's new?
Flintstone Name: I'm thinking about going back to school and getting my MBA.
Guy: Yeah, totally. Me too.

People like this depress me.