Best Laid Plans and Guilt

This week started out with such promise. As I told you, I was lucky enough to attend the White Sox home opener Monday afternoon. If I may quote singer/world saver Bono, "it was a beautiful day-ay-ay." The sun was shining, the kabobs sizzled invitingly on the collapsible grill, the beer flowed freely and my cigar stayed lit. The Sox winning in dramatic fashion was the icing on the cake. Things were going swimmingly as I got home and settled in for the night with "Wife and "Daughter". I should have suspected that the fickle finger of fate would point it's gnarled digit my way.

After falling into a peaceful slumber, I was awakened Tuesday morning at two by a pain I can only describe as "Holy S**t! Somebody hit me in the head with a machete!" Let's be clear, I've had my share of headaches in the past brought on by various causes, but nothing that ever yanked me from deathlike slumber. I downed four ibuprofen and slipped back into the land of nod. When the alarm went off at six, my head still felt like Joe Pesci had it in a vice and I had been caught counting cards and fondling a showgirl in Vegas circa 1967. Over the next 34 hours I ingested more pain killers than I had in my previous forty some years. I had planned on updating here more this week, but the sound of the clicking keys made me want blow up the house, but even in my altered state, I realized the explosion would most certainly be louder and more annoying. I did however have to go to an audition. It was for a prestigious theater company so I couldn't pass it up. Have you ever tried to play a Russian enforcer, complete with bad accent, while little gnomes in your head were trying to push out your eyes? Me either, but except for the gnomes, the rest is true. I'll make a long story short, since reading this is probably giving you a headache on par with mine. I took "Wife's" advice/nagging and went to the doctor. He yanked my neck around, gave me some medicine and after the frequent and recommended dosage, the headache mercifully ended Wednesday night, just in time for my heart to be ripped out.

As you know I am an unapologetic fan of American Idol. Wednesday night was the second annual "Idol Gives Back" charity drive to help save the world. I don't know exactly how much of the billions of dollars the show makes Idol actually gives back, but I do know that they want us to give, and they pull out all the stops to get their way. Only the truly heartless wouldn't be moved by film clips of children dying of AIDS and malaria in Africa or impoverished children in Kentucky and other parts of the US. You know me, I'm all heart, but come on, after the first seven clips, I get the picture. I'll make you a deal, I'll double my donation if you cut one of the clips and show me five more minutes of Fergie doing one handed cartwheels in her skin tight leather pants. Hubba Hubba! "Wife" got caught up in the moment and wanted to make a contribution, but only wanted to do so if she could make the donation to one of the top twelve Idols who were mock answering disconnected phones in the studio. I wish I were lying when I tell you she hung up at least six times because she got through to Jenny, Bob, or some other well meaning volunteer who couldn't carry a tune well enough to enter the pop culture psyche. Finally, as the finalists were performing their closing number, she relented and let some nameless, fame less, phone jockey take our money.

I'm off. I have another audition today. This one is for a commercial. Here's some horrifying news, I have to do it shirtless. I know there are some chubby chasers who might like to gaze upon my hairy form, and truth be told, I have made two TV appearances sans shirt, (no, not Cops, real shows where I got paid and built up my union health insurance), but standing in a cold room acting like an under dressed giant is making me a bit antsy. We'll see how it goes. Show biz...gotta love it. Try to stay up late or wake up at an ungodly hour Saturday night/Sunday morning for another installment of "the original and still the best" WGN Overnight. The show is still being built, but we'll have the Arcade, "Idol Chatter" and a financial expert to help us survive these tough economic times. I may even tell my riveting headache story. Don't miss it. Have a great weekend. Later....Brian