The Crossroads of a Blog

So I'm at a bachelor party last Saturday afternoon discussing the state of my current blog with a fellow blogger, we'll call him Boomer, whom I respect a great deal. And somehow (maybe the 19 beers had something to with it) we came to the conclusion that Sux in the City is at a major crossroads. I love writing it each week, but it is increasingly starting to bum me out having to find things in this city to bitch about. This conversation then morphed into us quoting movies and discussing various theories that we had about our favorite flicks (the 19 beers definitely had something to with it).




Then suddenly the idea hits Boomer, "See, this is the type of blog you should be writing. People would love it!" And then it hit me, also. Yes, he's exactly right. So two hours later I jumped into a cab and went home...and then passed out on my couch. But when I awoke an hour and a half later, I conveyed this idea to Mrs. Sux in the City in a jumbled pile of slurred words and, surprisingly, she was behind it, although, she would still like me to churn out an occasional rant on Sux in the City. I made no promises, but I'm sure that I will find something to bitch and moan about pertaining to this city once in awhile. A hearty thanks to my faithful readers for staying with me as long as you did and please, please follow me to my new blog--you might like it:  My new blog

Hit & Get: Blame It On Rio

During my 8 year college pilgrimage, I learned a couple of valuable lessons. One, hang out with Jim, Jack, or Jose on separate nights but never introduce them to each other. The other being that if it weren't for multiple choice tests, I might still be searching for a major. So, in light of today's bad news from the IOC, I'd like to pose you, my dear readers, the easiest multiple choice test ever given.

1.) Choose the city that seems oddly out of place:
A.) Madrid, Spain
B.) Rio de Janeiro
C.) Tokyo, Japan
D.) Chicago, IL

I'm not saying, I'm just saying.

The Summer D.B. Awards

Apparently summer is officially over, which I deduced from being able to cut bullet proof glass with my T.H.O.'s this morning. So with that in mind, I wanted to send out a hearty congratulations to this year's nominees for The Summer Douche Bag Awards.

The People Who Don't Say "Excuse Me" After Cutting Me Off With Their Shopping Cart
OK, I can tolerate those people at Jewel or Dominick's who inexplicably stand in the middle of the bread aisle contemplating the ever exasperating question of--Wonder Bread, or Butternut? I can also stomach the 10 deep line of 90-somethings who write a check for three bananas and a can of tuna. But what I just can't handle are those rude S.O.B.'s constantly cutting me off, running into me, or walking right in front of my shopping cart and not even offering a fake "oh, excuse me" or "I'm sorry." One of these days, I would love to beat them with the blunt end of a Swifter Wet-Jet!

The 6 Dumb Asses Arrested For Protesting The 2016 Olympics: http://www.chicagobreakingnews.com/2009/10/6-charged-in-burning-of-olympic-banner.html
Listen, I'm an angry, insignificant jack-ass, too. Start up a blog and complain until your heart is content like every other angry, insignificant jack-ass! It's a hell of a lot cheaper than bail, and your corn hole will remain intact. BTW, I love the fact that two of these geniuses are from the 'burbs and two are not even from Illinois--how would the inconvenience of the Olympics affect them in any way?

People Who Try To Enter The El While You Are Trying To Exit The El
This is a pretty simple concept to grasp peeps. It's the same principle that governs the exiting and entering of an elevator. As the elevator doors open, people exit the elevator and after everyone is out of the elevator then people are free to enter. So, the next time I am exiting the Brown line and you ignorantly try to push your way past me and I steam roll you out of the way causing you to miss your train, you'll have nobody to blame except for your dumb ass.


People Who Use The Word "Holla!" And Are Serious About It
I'm hip--I own three pairs of Pumas and a skinny tie, after all. OK, truth be told, I'm pretty lame--I wouldn't know Taylor Swift from Taylor Dayne. See, that's even a lame example. But there's something about hearing a college educated person, hell, even a high school educated person say "Holla!" that makes me cringe like I'm watching, well, any episode of SNL from the last five years.

Jaywalkers
As if I didn't have enough obstacles to maneuver around when I'm driving in the city, now I have to anticipate a person's/moron's ability to distinguish between a white stick figure walking and a giant orange hand indicating that pedestrians should stop walking? I say everyone hit the gas and chalk it up as population control.