J. to the Nel. v2.5

Cathedral.

View from the castle.

Well, I just wrote a very long post regarding the White Sox with last night, AND!?, my computer ate it... I do not have time at the moment to re-write my genius post because, well, why else? I have to drive my dad to court for the "driving on a public way" ticket he received before a ALSC game at "The Cell," silly! I mean, doesn't everyone spend their Thursday afternoons at court with their Pops?

Anyway, here are some very blurry pictures that capture some of the fun. These were taken in Bridgeport, the US Cell neighborhood, between 11:00 and midnight last night. No arrests were made, and everyone was nothing but cool... It was a good night my friends, peachy keen indeed.

See, pictures here --- Ignore the ones from tailgating.

Well, okay, I lie. I really really like Halloween for many reasons.

1 - Candy. Oh maaaaaaaan, the candy. You can go into Dominick's and not look batshit buying bags and bags of glorious candy! Also, Reese's Pumpkins? Yea, ohhhh yea they are good, BUT! Frozen mini snickers are my heroin.

2 - Costumes. I, personally, do enjoy costumes. I like dressing up like a fool and acting like a moron... Specifically when Goldslaguer, and really really thick, dark beer are in abundance. Too bad I have the lamest friends on earth who think dressing up is muy stooopido.

3 - Scaring the shit out of kids. I can, acceptably, attempt to terrify children all in the name of Halloween. While at Fright Fest on Saturday, (just wait for THAT story, my god... I am banning myself from Six Flags for life), I found myself yearning to be the gools dressed up scaring the pants of children and cheerleaders.... Could life get much better then that?

4 - Pumpkins. I enjoy the way the look, smell, and taste... in pie, of course. I enjoy their seeds and gushing their nasty intestines through my fingers. I enjoy carving retarded faces on them and leaving them on the TV until they rot and get funky. Although, I do not enjoy when one fo your friends drops a rotting pumpkin carcase on your head and it explodes all over your freshly straightened hair and your new shoes. (I'm not bitter... NOPE!)

5 - Kids in costumes... I will never say this again, so listen closely... SOMETIMES, kids are cute. Especially when dressed up... Okay, enough of this....

With all of this said, perhaps I should change the title to read "I. Hate. Frozen. Mini. Snickers." I suppose it is not Halloween's fault I ate like 12 "fun size" Snickers last night.... But all I know is... It can't be my own fault.

I hate personal accountability... I am a Liberal, ya know. (I can say it, its like when you make fun of your own mom.... YOU can do it, but other people can't.)

Later Gaters.

As I write this, a helicopter is hovering around in the distance and Every couple minutes you hear various loud "booms," and "bangs" coming from different directions... Car horns, people yelling... It's like there is a war outside my shitty little apartment. I would be freaked out, and concerned.. but... but not today!

TODAY, I AM TOO DAMN EXCITED!!!!!!! -- World Series, baby!!!!!!!

Dearest Polish Crotchrocket Gang,

I know you are "cool." REAAAAAAL "cool," please stop holding up traffic on the freaking expressway just to prove your coolness via pop-wheelies. I am not impressed, you are a fool. I will have you know I secretly chant "fall-fall-fall-fall" in my head the entire time you idiots are around.

Thanks,
J.Nel, Queen of Cool.

Dearest Polish Crotchrocket Gang's Bitches,

Ladies, your men are all wearing helmets yet you are not. Yes, your hair looks awesome even at 80mph, but still.... Value your pea-brain just a little more and wear a helmet like your mans.

Good luck with the helmet hair,
J.Nel, Fashion Guru

Dear Baseball Fans, and All Baseball Hating Whiners,

I learned the drop third strike rule when I was 10. It's an easy concept to grasp. Sure the situation was messy, but sorry Paul, you know the damn drill... TAG HIM. Sure you thought you caught it, but this is the Playoffs bitch!

Face it, The White Sox are in the running... Booyah.

Sincerly,
J.Nel, Baseball Nazi

Dear Mom, (I know, shhh!)

Stop telling me to be careful and that you love me 700 times when I leave you house. Also stop telling me you "have bad dreams" and that I need to ALWAYS wear my seat belt.... You're freaking me the fuck out, crazy lady.

You loving Daughter,
J.Nel, Seat belt hater

Dear (South) Halsted Street Crackheads,

This is YOUR street, you own this shit... Don't worry I understand and I have no desire to take over such a gem of land. You are free to roam the street in search of drugs, money, and beer all you want - go crazy, I'm sure you already are though... PS, no, I don't have a dollar. What happened to asking for change!? A dollar!? MAAAAAAAAN!

Thank you,
J.Nel, Social Worker

Dearest White Capri Wearing Blob Ass,

I know you need to catch that bus, I do. I understand not everyone has enough money for a car, or clothes for that matter, but I still think you should rethink those pants. I do not <3 your gigantic pink flowered undies, and I really do not enjoy actually seeing the blobs of fat in such detail through the spandex. I am sure you are fabulous, but not today... in those pants... my. god.

Over and Out,
J.Nel, The Evil One.

Hey you, Computer Adware/Spyware/Virus Composing NERD!

I fucking hate you. DIE DIE DIE. Die, a slooooow paaaaaainful death, you loser! No one will ever love you. I hope you cat claws out your eyes and your fellow nerdy friends (if you have any) find the light and ditch you nerdy, EVIL, ass. Yea, I mean it to...

Die.
J.Nel, Pissed Off Adware Magnet

P.S. Perhaps that was harsh... I take back the slow painful death part. I hope you die, quickly... Like right now.... all of you... NOW!

A looooong walk home.
My cousin was able to clench three really good seats to every post-season Sox game. Although I have tailgated three times, I have yet to attend one game in person. Last night, I was informed that I am more then "cool" enough to tailgate with them, but he has loyalties to people (My dad, uncle, another cousin, co-workers, etc) and I am simply SOL. I am okay with this because I have no money, these tickets are mighty hefty, and also I understand that many old men have put in far more years of fan debauchery thus deserving these tickets far more then me... But, seriously, that shit hurt. I can tell you from my three experiences tailgating, then walking home against the sea of fans going to the game, it is painful to be *this* close and miss out. That last wave goodbye in the worst, it simply confirms that you will be watching the game at home... Only after, of course, walking against a sea of fans headed to the game. But it's okay, if I am not able to actually attend, I have still been able to embrace the feel of playoff through drinking and observing die-hard fans with portable flagpoles. This neighborhood is nuts, pride everywhere... It's awesome and I am happy to be a part of it... With this said, I need to talk to my homies.

Letter to my boys...
Hey Guys, I know it has been a crazy few weeks... but we really need to talk.

You are a good team, really you are. You have great players, many of which just happen to be very fine to look at, and you have some kick-ass coaches. Your fun, entertaining, and generally put on a good show winning games. Sure you had a horrible brief demise at the end of the season, but you pulled it off... If anything, please remember that you remain the underdogs, and if you cocky fuckers don't get your shit together you could very well not pull this off... So, lets focus, us south-side trashy-scum fans are counting on it... and so are hundreds, if not thousands, of yuppie bandwagon fans... but fuck them, this is about us... the real fans who watched nearly every game and attended over 10 games this year.... Win this shit for us! Lets let that game go and start fresh tonight... We need some hits, lets swing that damn bat, mmmkay?

Cheer up little pups and take this one.

With love,
Your wanna be baby mama, J.Nel

A letter to my fantasy lover...
Hey baby! Feeling good about tonight? Awesome. Listen, I had a chat with the guys, they are going to work on the dingers, so YOU must solely focus on striking some Angel ass out, okay? I know you can do it. I have faith in you!

My God that trashy beard makes me hot... keep up the good work.

I love you,
You future baby mama, J.Nel

Let's make Grinder Rule #162 applicable once again!

(Grinder Rule #162: Crying in baseball - Only acceptable if champagne burns in your eyes. )

March 13, 2000, I was blessed with my 2000 Hyundai... Brand spankin' new, with a mere 20 miles on her. She was wonderful.

Last week, at a little over a five years old, she turned 100,000 miles.

Here we are at 99,999 miles...



... and here we are at 100,000.



My baby is all grow'd up, and officially a peice of shit.