sex

After... literally 3 minutes of searching... I finally found a copy of Madonna's Sex on the internet in PDF form.

It's crazy to think that she's writing lame children's books now... when a mere 10 years ago she was wiping baby DNA off of her stomach and ass after photo shoots with a dog (page 16) and motherfuckin' Vanilla Ice (pages 21-23). I wonder which part she regrets the most now: releasing a soft core photo album or releasing a soft core photo album featuring Vanilla Ice?

My weekend was weird. Immediately after work I cancelled getting a drink with Ellen so that I could rush home and watch the documentary Capturing the Friedmans which turned out to be about a Long Island father and son who were accused of, arrested and sent to prison for raping kids. The documentary expertly edits together home movie footage shot by the Friedmans, 1980's news footage, new interviews with surviving family members, police, lawyers and victims. The subject matter disgusts me, but by the end of the film you're not certain if the Friedmans jailed were actually guilty of the crimes charged, or merely had fucked up fetishes... let me re-phrase that: I think the son Jesse got railroaded, and the father Arnie was a sick fuck who may not have been guilty of raping kids in his home, but had an unhealthy fetish for children.

So, pick this one up at Blockbuster. And while you're there pick up a copy of "Schindler's List". Make it a double feature night.

After that voyage into the realm of the damned, my friend Dave came over with some smoke and we met up with Ellen and her spaced out friends at the Lincoln Station. We dropped the lasses off at the door and went to find parking. 20 minutes later I decided that I didn't want to pay the full $30 entrance for 90 minutes of beer or liquor. The door guy wouldn't let me and Dave into the party room. Ellen tried to get the guy to cut us the $15 rate he gave her and Carol. He said he couldn't do it. She kept hassling him. He stood firm. Finally I said "it's ok. We'll just drink at the bar until the party deal is over with and then we'll go in."

Ellen was mad at me for cutting it short and giving in. Ellen doesn't understand a couple things (beyond being a man, I was a doorguy at a large, busy bar in college):

1. the doorguy will extend a half-off rate to women (but never, never) to another man. Half off now means half off later.

2. the doorguy already said "no" to extending the half off rate to two guys. There's no way in hell that he'd go back on his decision five minutes into it... especially caving in to some half drunk girl, or any girl for that matter when there's another man plus less cash involved.

I've been in this guy's place before. I appreciate what a pain in the ass it can be, and that's why I backed off. $30 for 90 minutes is no deal, Mickey Mantle.

At 11 the doors opened and we entered a truly underwhelming crowd of overweight 30 year old guys with receeding hairlines, sweat and dress shirts and dozens of drunk early 30's women. One of which looked any good. Two more drinks and we were out.

Dave dropped us off at my place and we went up to the roof to drink some Red Stripes and enjoy the warm clear evening.

Saturday I felt like ass... like I was getting the flu. I rested up, felt better and then went on a 15 mile bike ride. Rick came over that night with Billy and Heather and we got a couple intense games of foosball in. rank a few High Lifes and then shot pool at the Lincoln Tap Room. I like that bar,.. well spaced out, decent deals and for some reason there's usually not too many pricks (there's a lot of pricks in Chicago). I was feeling sick again, so we went back to my place for more foosball and beer. They left around 2 a.m.

Sunday was a beautiful day so I went for a 20 mile bike ride with Matt and checked out a couple of record and book stores in Wicker Park and spent some time in the sunshine. That night I saw Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow. I wanted it to be good/it was OK. It picked up during the 20 minutes that Angelina Jolie's in it. Damn, she's fine.