The events in New Orleans have been a terrible tragedy. That being said...

I think this billboard for Southern Comfort at the corner of Halsted and Brompton has taken on a whole new meaning.

Last night my mom called me up.

"Hey J." "Hey mom."

My mom then informed me that she was really cool. "I just wanted to let you know how cool I was," she said. I was curious. "Why are you so cool? I mean, besides the obvious reasons," I quickly covered.

"I just subscribed to Netflix," she tells me. "Woooww," I say. "You are pretty cool."

In the past few years my mom has done some pretty "cool" things. She got a cell phone. She got one of the new Volkswagen Bugs. I think she even met Billy Joel once. If that's not "cool" I don't know what is. But the Netflix...that might have just pushed her over the edge.

"You're pretty cool mom," I tell her. "Thanks J," she said. "I know."

The Holiday Club is a hip joint. They have turquoise and pink color schemes. There's pictures of Old Blue Eyes and Dino on the walls. They even have a jukebox to play some swingin' tunes. Plus, they have a photo booth.

Every time Kami and I go there we feel obligated to use it. And every time we use it we feel that a strip of photos isn't any fun unless you come up with a "gimmick" for at least the first photo.

Top photo: How long has that been in the fridge?!



Top photo: These tax forms don't seem right!



Top photo: NO I will not go to prom with you! As if!



It really is a swingin' place.

The two people who live below me have the last names Hastings and Cummings. I noticed this on the mailboxes the other day.

Is it just me or do they sound like the co-hosts of a Sunday morning political debate show on the BBC?

Hastings: Parliament has been wickedly lopped as of recent. Do you concur?
Cummings: I concur whole heartedly my dear Hastings.
Hastings: Right-oh! Fancy some tea then?
Cummings: Hmm, yes. Quite right.

Ah, Hastings and Cummings. I can see it now.

Lately my body has been waking me up earlier and earlier. Monday I woke up at 8. Tuesday I woke up at 7. Today I woke up at 6.

I don't know what my body is trying to pull, but it's not going to get away with it.

Then, as my body is being handcuffed and hauled away by the police it'll say, "And I would have gotten away with it too if it wasn't for you pesky kids!"

Evidently my body is an episode of Scooby Doo. I think this is definite sign I need more sleep.

...Also, thinking about my cheese blog from the other day, I've decided to relaunch bergwithcheese. Enjoy.

I have a giant pair of flip flops. No, correction: I had a giant pair of flip flops. They're gone now.

Several years ago there was a promotion at the bar Micah works at, wherein Micah was going to give away a giant pair Mike's Hard Lemonade flip flips to the person who drank the most Mike's Hard Lemonade. It came down to Jason and I. Jason ended up drinking more Mike's than I did. He also ended up getting violently ill. And of course, Jason ended up winning the giant flip flops.

Then, about six months ago, when Jason moved to New York, he decided to give the flip flops to me. Evidently giant flip flops are hard to pack. So for the past six months they've been sitting next to my front door. And that's about it.

Then, the other day, Micah said, "I think it's time for the flip flops to go." And that was that.

So yesterday, slinging the flip flops over my shoulder and walking them down Broadway, I took them to an eBay drop off store, where you can conveniently drop off your crap and they'll sell it for you.

Want to buy my giant flip flops? Check them out on eBay.

We'll see. If nobody bids on them they'll be coming back to my hallway next to the front door. I may have a giant pair of flip flops again.

At work we have a shelf in one of the bar coolers where we keep food in case we get hungry. On any given night it will hold things like bread, cheese, meat, Oreos, chocolate bars, and potato chips. It is sometimes referred to as The Grocery Store.

Last night, in a fit of hunger, I ate a slice of cheese. An individually wrapped slice of cheese. American cheese.

As if America doesn't have a bad enough rap already, we have to produce the most processed, worst tasting cheese in the world. And of course it has to be called American.

"This cheese is sinking our reputation," I tell Nathan at work. "Yeah," he says, "because our country is doing so great otherwise." Point taken.

But still, we're the laughing stock of the cheese world and we're just sitting by and taking it. It's so humiliating.

The other day I was walking past the United Methodist Church on Broadway.

The board outside which usually has a weekly thought or quote read this:

"Sometimes even my lucky rocketship underpants don't help. - Calvin and Hobbes"

If that's not preachin' it, I don't know what is!

This weekend the air and water show is in town. I'm less than thrilled.

For days before the actual event planes practice flying over the city, deafening "SSSSHHHHHHHHSSSSS!!!!" streaming through the skies. It's the equivalent of those guys who drive their souped up cars down the street, the engine roaring, trying to prove how tough they are.

We get it! You're a tough guy! Go roar your car while you're wearing your muscle-t, on your way to the gym to work on your pecs and your lats. We're all real impressed!

Today Kellie's blog was about book vending machines in Paris.

Kel: In Paris, they have book vending machines.
Me: That's it! I'm moving to Paris! Distributeurs automatiques de livre! stupefier!"
Kel: What are you taking French now?
Me: I am. (pause) Or...I mean...(pause) Oui.
Kel: (sigh)
Me: I think they'd appreciate me more over in France.
Kel: You think so?
Me: Totally. In fact, maybe I should launch my blog there soon.
Kel: Uh oh.
Me: bergavecdesreitures.com, ma vie comme josh.
Kel: Not nearly as catchy.
Me: Hmm, no. I guess not.

Last night I call Bernadette. It's 10:30 at night.

"What are you up to?" I ask. "I'm emptying out my piggy bank so I can turn in the change and buy a Starbucks card," she tells me. "I need it to further my addiction."

I'll say.

"And yes, I know it's a bit pathetic that I'm collecting my change to pay for coffee," she tells me.

"All I'm saying," I say, "is it starts off pooling your spare change together, but the next thing you know you're working the street on Kedzie, giving handjobs for Starbucks cards."

Bernadette is silent for a moment. "Well shit."

If that's not a public service announcement that needs to be made, I don't know what is.

Yesterday morning the big headline on the front page of the Chicago Tribune was "New clock for Iraq talks", referring to the new timeline politicians have given themselves for talks in Iraq.

As we're getting papers for breakfast Joel looks at the headline and asks, "They have a clock in Iraq that talks? Like, an alarm clock?"

"Bong!" I chime. Then, in a monotone voice, "The current time is 8:17! Your country is at war!"

Come Christmas I bet those are going to be the must-have item in Iraq. Like iPods here.

Last night I had a date.

I called her in the afternoon to finalize plans and told her I'd pick her up around eight. "Wait," she said, "do you have a car?" "Um...no," I said a bit hesitantly, "But I'm reallygood at hailing cabs."

And let me tell you, I hailed the hell out of that cab.

Earlier today Joel and I are shopping in a candy store. An older woman with a foreign accent (probably the nanny?) is helping the children pick out candy.

Nanny: I don't know if we should get this. We should ask your mother.
4-year-old girl: Well let's just call her now.
Nanny: Call her now?
4-year-old girl: (in complete disbelief) What?! Like, don't you have a cell phone?!

A bit self-conscious the nanny admits that no, she does not have a cell phone. The little girl appears confused, and proceeds to ask, "Don't you have a cell phone?" again a minute later.

Ah children. Supposedly they're our future, but I don't buy it.

Micah and I are sitting watching TV. The volume is a bit too low.

Micah: Can you turn it up a notch?
Me: Sure thing Emeril.
(there's silence for about 20 seconds)
Micah: Oh, I get it.

Last night Kami and I went to our usual Monday night movie. It's great that our one sure night of the week off, we spend with each other at the movies. We both have amazing lovelives.

After the movie we stop by Ghirardelli to grab some ice cream. As we wait for our ice cream a girl serving behind the counter is chatting with a guy sitting at the counter eating a cheeseburger.

"So it was the last night of class for you?" she asks, wiping off the counter. He nods, taking a bite of his burger. It seems like they know each other.

Sitting in front of him is a drop box where people can fill out slips and give their e-mail address to get offers from Ghiradelli. "You have e-mail?" she asks the boy. He says yes. She points to the drop box, suggesting he fill out a form. He takes a piece of paper and writes his e-mail address on the back. He's clearly not planning on dropping it in the box, he's giving it to her.

He hands her the piece of paper. "Is that an 'R'?" she asks, pointing to his sloppy handwriting. She walks around the counter to stand next to him while he writes his e-mail address more clearly. She rips the piece of paper in half, writes her e-mail address on the blank piece, and hands it to him.

He nods. "Cool."

She goes back to the ice cream. He goes back to his burger. Adorable, I mouth to Kami.

Watching something that simple almost makes you think it could happen to you.

The other day at work Nathan starts talking about hippos for some reason. "I'm terrified of them," he tells me. Terrified? Of hippos? "Totally," he tells me.

I begin to wonder what animals other people are scared of. Dana tells me she's freaked out about sharks. "I used to have nightmares about them when I was little," she says. "I still can't see a shark movie poster without getting scared."

Nikki doesn't like alligators or crocodiles. Christine is scared of rats. Pigeons freak out Nicole. And then we ask John, the owner, what animal scares him.

"Aliens," he says, completely serious. "Not like that little one, but that big one, that comes out of the pod, with the teeth." He starts clamping his hands to look like chomping teeth. I have no idea what he's talking about, but the look on his face is intense.

"Funny story though," he continues, "My old partner Bill was on a safari a few years ago in Kenya, or...some part of Africa. So they're driving through the middle of nowhere in their Land Rover, and they can see giraffes and antelope, and all the animals off in the distance. Suddenly the car stops, and Bill turns to the guide, who is visibly shaking." John begins to shake for effect. "So Bill asks the guy, 'What's the matter?' and the guide tells him that they have a flat tire. And Bill doesn't get it. The guide tells him that he's never had a flat tire out here before, and that basically once they get out of the car, that's it. They're part of the food chain. So they don't know what to do. It's a huge Land Rover, so it's not like you can change the tire in five minutes, it takes a while."

"So what did they do?" I ask.

"Well they had to figure out how to use those huge game hunting rifles." John lunges forward and assumes the stance of someone holding a huge game hunting rifle. "So one of them changed the tire and the rest of them stood around with the rifles." John continues standing in his rifle holding pose. "Finally they got out of there, but it was scary."

I think for me it's cockroaches. They'll never keep me from changing a flat tire, but they're still pretty creepy.

This morning I get up around 8:00 am and decide to take advantage of my early Sunday wake-up and get a jump on my day. I head out for Starbucks.

On the walk back home I see a woman walking towards me. She's wearing jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt and looks a little tired. Under one arm she's carrying a baseball mitt, under the other, a straw cowboy hat. It's 8:30 in the morning.

Walk of shame, or just prepared for a very long day? You be the judge.

The other night at work a customer asks me if we have any drink specials. I tell her that we don't. We never have crazy attention-getting drink specials at work and I love it. I don't have to try and remember things like how much Malibu to put in the newest crazy invention, and that's just fine by me.

"Well do you have any special drinks?" she asks. I begin to wonder if I'm on a hidden camera show where they film me to see how long I can remain calm. "No?" I tell her.

"No, I mean, do you personally have anything that you're good at making?" she asks.

Her friend, who has already ordered a Makers Mark and Coke, says, "This Makers and Coke is really good."

"That's right," I say, "I forgot. I make really good Makers and Cokes."

The girl doesn't seem to get my joke. "How about a cosmo?" I make her cosmo.

Several minutes later she calls out to me. "Cosmos should be your special drink! This is like, one of the best cosmos I've ever had."

"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind," I tell her. I still like to think I make a great Makers and Coke.

As some of you may know I am in the middle of a mini-vacation. I have four days off from work, and in that time I've been going absolutely bored. Yesterday was especially painful.

12:07 - Kami and I go out to breakfast at IHOP. I realize that I missed a fun brunch on Sunday and decide to make today my Sunday. Kami and I head to the 7-11 after breakfast so I can buy champagne and OJ. "I'm gonna buy a Hustler too," I announce. Kami laughs.

1:03 - We arrive at the 7-11 only to realize that they don't sell champagne. I'm resigned to go to the Jewel.

1:15 - I buy champagne and OJ (which I realize later is the extra pulp kind, sadly) at the Jewel, but they don't sell Hustler there. I settle for an issue of Cosmo Girl with Ashlee Simpson on the cover. My plan is already going south.

1:23 - I get home and begin enjoying my first mimosa, and my issue of Cosmo Girl. No thanks to Ashlee, I soon turn on the TV.

2:00 - I begin watching a special on E! about how celebrities stay in shape...while I myself slouch on the sofa, drinking at two in the afternoon. Sigh.

2:47 - I finish my first bottle of champagne and start on my second.

3:01 - The fitness show ends and '40 Weddings and a Funeral' starts. It's a show about celebrity weddings hosted by Tori Spelling. I really start to miss working.

4:07 - Very intoxicated, watching weddings for over an hour, and seeing a commercial for the new Diane Lane/John Cusack online dating movie Must Love Dogs, convinces me that I need to find a date, and I immediately pull my laptop onto the sofa to sign up at PerfectMatch.com.

4:38 - I finish the compatibility survey (and my mimosa) and sign up.

4:45 - I begin to realize that most of the people on this thing aren't even in Chicago. In fact, half the people aren't even in the state! One of my 'perfect matches' lives in Peru, Illinois!

4:47 - I begin searching for a place to refund my money. Not surprisingly, there isn't one.

4:51 - I begin looking for a phone number to call. Not surprisingly, there isn't one.

4:52 - I resign myself to my fate: That I will be forced to date people from Peru. And I am never allowed to sign up for anything online when I'm drunk.

Sigh. I go back to work tomorrow.

Kellie needs to find an apartment, and to that end, yesterday we went apartment hunting.

"It's going to be a box," Kel tells me, referring to how small her apartment is going to be.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," I tell her.

"Do you think I can have a housewarming party?" she asks. "I don't even know how many people I'll be able to fit into my box."

The wheels in my head start turning but I haven't gotten there yet. "Well I think you should have a box warming party anyway. It'd be fun."

Kel turns to me, an excited look on her face. "Aww, I'll have invitations that say 'Welcome to my box!'"

I connect the dots now and break out laughing. "I don't know if that'd be the best way to phrase it."