Celebrity

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"I don't mean to interrupt," she said, tapping my father on the shoulder. "But you look just like Harrison Ford. Has anyone ever told you that before?"

My father had, in fact, been told that on more than one occasion.

It may seem silly that I keep a ready account of such an unimportant memory, but it remains in the lockbox of my mind for one reason.

I have no celebrity counterpart.

My father struts around town in his Indiana Skywalker skin and I, his beloved son, possess no celebrity match.

In an attempt to silence my whining, a friend once uploaded a photo of me onto a website that automatically matches you with your celebrity look-a-like.

To gauge the complexity of said website, my buddy's photo (below) garnered matches that included Owen Wilson, Kate Hudson, and Benji.

"I'm Sorry, Your Photo Yielded No Results," was the only match my photo garnered.

Not once has a stranger taken it upon herself to say to me, "Sir, in this light you very closely resemble a young Brad Pitt."

Or, "Wow Mister, you should move to Hollywood immediately and fill the void left by the death of George Clooney's face double."

Not once.

Never.

Well, until this weekend, that is.

While playing beer pong on Saturday January 27, 2007 at 9:14 pm CST, an opponent paused in the middle of her windup, looked me in the face, and said, "I got it! I know who you look like!"

"WHO?!?" I replied. Calmly.

"Have you ever seen Fantastic Four?" she asked.

"Yes," I said sorely, anticipating her answer to be The Thing (pictured below).

"You look just like that fire dude."

"The Human Torch?" I asked meekly.

"Yah! That's his name. The Human Torch," she answered, tossing the ball and missing the nearest cup by an arm's length.

"Oh, well, yah. I mean, uhm, the Human Torch. Yah. People tell me that all the time."

Fathers

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I am no longer in college.

I am not yet employed.

Doctors and scientists generally refer to this limbo period as the "Seriously, I Have To Get A Job Now? Where the F Did My Life Go" phase. In order to bypass this phase without causing serious damage to one's psyche, doctors and scientists believe that two factors are vital.

First, good nutrition is key. Having just left college, one should consider continuing their balanced diet of Beef, Chicken, and Shrimp Ramen. A body going through the SIHTGAJNWTFDMLG stage cannot withstand complete Ramen withdrawal.

Second, a healthy dose of Drama is imperative, preferably one hour a week of the Television Medical variety. In order to continue with the dramatic throws of having female college friends, it is absolutely imperative that Drama be a mainstay during the SIHTGAJNWTFDMLG stage.

Ever since these findings were released, I have been trying ever-so-hard to eat better, though with no microwave and a gasless gas stove, I have had to pull off some MacGuyver-esque stunts in order to sustain a healthy Ramen intake. It hasn’t been easy cooking all of those bricks of Ramen in my coffee maker everyday, and giving up started to look like the better option.

And without the luxury of cable television, I have been taking my weekly dose of TMD (Television Medical Drama) at ABC.com. Without a solid internet connection (I steal), a forty-five minute episode of "Grey's Anatomy" has ballooned into a three hour affair. Needless to say, it never took my female college friends three hours to be dramatic.

Despite all my efforts, I was still barely scraping by, certain I would soon fall victim to SIHTGAJNWTFDMLG.

Enter my father…the hero.

First, he had the brilliant idea of plugging my TV into a power source. I had no idea that sometimes a TV can receive basic channels (visa vi ABC) if you just plug it into a wall outlet.

Then, in another heroic act, my dad turned the knob on my stove to reveal that sometimes, even if you think your gas is turned off, it is not.

Before, when I was battling SIHTGAJNWTFDMLG with nothing but a coffee maker and a bad internet connection, I thought I would never make it to the "Wait, So I Have To Do This Eight Hours a Day Everyday? Where the F Did My Life Go" phase of my life.

But thanks to my father, my stove and basic cable, I have discovered that SIHTGAJNWTFDMLG can be fought. And can be beaten.

So next time I'm wondering "Where the F Did My Life Go?" I can find solace in knowing that somewhere in this crazy mixed-up world a father is teaching his college grad how to push down a toaster lever. And I’ll smile.

Here's to you, Dad!

Snowballs

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Due to the hugely nonexistent amount of snow on the ground tonight, I thought it would be more than appropriate to look back on the days of yesteryear when Global Warming hadn't yet raped its way through our nation's cities.

This particular clip is from last winter's "Blizzard 2006" in New York City.

A Shoe Story

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Last week I had a job interview with a publishing company in Evanston. Being the corporal embodiment of mentally preparedness, I figured all I needed to worry about was my physical appearance.

In order to look as dapper as possible, I reckoned the essentials were a suit, some well-placed hair gel, and two matching black dress shoes. Thanks to a graduation gift from my parents and my scary obsession with hair product, the suit and the gel were taken care of. Needless to say, hours before the interview I realized that a pair of my dad's boat shoes and some flashy orange and silver running kicks were the only pieces of footwear I opted to bring to Chicago. With nowhere else to turn, I asked my friend Andrew, proud owner of the world’s largest feet, if I could sponge some shoes. He obliged.

Donning running shoes on the train for comfort purposes, I slipped into Andrew's shoes outside the publishing house and proceeded to my interview. After a bit of trouble negotiating the steps, I entered.

"Hi, I'm Bozo. I'm here in regards to the Quality Assurance position."

Resolutions

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Thirteen days ago 2006 became 2007.

Thirteen days ago I watched Mike projectile vomit from my balcony onto the cement courtyard two stories below.

Thirteen days ago I vowed that 2007 was going to be a "Puke Free" year for me.

Thirteen days later an acrid burn in my throat and a pounding in my head are all that remain of my New Year's Resolution.

I would just like to thank boxed-wine, State Restaurant and Cafe and my complete lack of self-control for allowing me to, yet again, display the sheer mastery of my upchuck reflex.

Cheers!

Craigslist

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Aside from Floyd, my blue LA-Z-BOY chair, I moved to Chicago two weeks ago with more or less a bed, two dressers, a badass homemade table, and three pairs of hand-knitted socks.

Initially, the bare apartment seemed, at worst, a splendid burden. Every couple of hours I would don a fresh pair of Grandma Brennan's trusty socks and effectively slide, "Risky Business" style, from living room to dining room before eventually passing out from hyper-stimulation. While there is nothing I would rather do than slide, the slide-triggered blackouts were problematic because I seemed to always awake, five or six hours later, dehydrated and sore with a steadfast craving for succulent leather couches, delicious walnut bookcases, and supple area rugs from distant lands.

It was during my final slide-binge-induced-coma that an answer to my yearnings came to me in a dream in the form of a man.

Craig.

In my dream, Craig floated toward me on a wave of silver bandwidth and a magical list streamed behind him like an endless lock of Rapunzel's golden hair.

"Consult my list and you shall be furnished," Craig said to me.

Instantly I awoke, the slide-hangover still pounding in my temples.

"I must find Craig's list!" I said to Floyd.

On bended knee, I approached my MacBook, Kevin, and prayed to the great deity, Google, for an answer. In 0.05 seconds, Lord Google had a reply. Atop the mountain of 24,900,000 results, Craigslist.com stared me in the face.

Seriously though, all joking aside, Craigslist is full of crazy-go-awesome things. Not only can you find a whole bunch of used shit for free, there is also a whole bunch of used shit for purchase, as well as job postings and personal ads.

Floyd is a believer. He found Grace, a gray sectional with a pullout bed, on Craigslist Personals. They hit it off immediately and are expecting an ottoman sometime in the fall.

Do not wait for Craig to visit you in a cataleptic state. I have been to the mountaintop. I have met Craig and consulted his list.

Trust me.

Craig's List is worthy.