World's Largest Carbon Footprint

Ever since all of this hullabaloo began a few years of the reduction of one's carbon footprint, I have been trying to INCREASE my carbon footprint. Per this ecogreenIhopenobirdsgetstuckwiththosesixpackholdersstuckaroundtheirfaces website, this is the definition of carbon footprintage:

1. The primary footprint is a measure of our direct emissions of CO2 from the burning of fossil fuels including domestic energy consumption and transportation (e.g. car and plane). We have direct control of these.

2. The secondary footprint is a measure of the indirect CO2 emissions from the whole lifecycle of products we use - those associated with their manufacture and eventual breakdown. To put it very simply – the more we buy the more emissions will be caused on our behalf.

So, I have obviously been doing some things right in making my footprint more awesome, like:

-Leaving my stovetop burners on 24/7

-Leaving my oven on at a balmy 400

-Heat and or AC running all the time...once it reaches peak heat in the apartment, I crank up the AC...and the windows are always open so everything has to work extra hard

-I have installed several diesel engines to run things like my alarm clock, toothbrush (the taste is odd), and to help me lift my arms up in the air.

-I burn a shit ton of coal. Like more than the Southern Hemisphere. If I don't have a nice sooty fire going at all times, I wouldn't be doing my part. I also torch a lot of Prii in my spare time.

However, I have obviously been doing many things that are DECREASING my carbon footprint. I turn lights off when I leave a room, shut off faucets when I am not running the water, and worst of all, use public transit. I have a lot of work to do and therefore need to ride around in either old pickup trucks that spew out fuel or build a custom truck that gets 1 mile to the gallon. Either way, I'm gonna tear this shit up and my footprint will be the carboniest of them all, and maybe even some other chemical elements will be involved.

Also, why is the big trend in candy for the candy to feature "air"? I have seen many commercials for Hershey's chocolate featuring air. Should it cost a lot less since you don't get as much chocolate? Air is free. I mean, you don't want any of my air for free, but still. Come on ridiculous trends. Shut the fuck up.

"Even for the Internet....it's pretty shocking"

It has been some time since I last let my thoughts spew onto the typed page, mainly due to the fact that I now seem to operating in some sort of 1920's existence. My wristwatch is desperately in need of a new battery, and initially, it would be five minutes behind after 24 hours. Well, I now have a full time position winding my watch to the correct time as it is now 5 minutes behind every 3 minutes. HA. I made a hilarious watch winding joke. Take that, those who said it couldn't be done!

Since I moved from the hustle and bustle of Lincoln Park in Chicago to the ironic facial haired land of skinny jeans, Logan Square, I have additionally had to adapt to living in a building with only one washer and one dryer. This would not be a big deal if it were located in my apartment, but alas, it is located in the basement and I am on the third floor. As a man who amasses about 145 pounds of laundry per time that I want to do my laundry, I have finally reunited with one of my favorite places; the laundromat. (Longtime readers of this spot will know about this love that I have for laundromats...http://tradwayone.blogspot.com/2007_09_01_archive.html read the Sep 20, 2007 entry) I, fortunately for all involved parties, have been keeping track of these trips to the laundromat, which in my hood, is called "Scrub a Dub"

Scrub a Dub 08/03/11

This place definitely used to be something much greater. A laundromat that other laundromats aspired to be like. I mean for God's sake there is a fluroescently lit "Kid's Korner" which now sits in an odd state- featuring what looks like the stuffed animal crane game and one of those recliner massage chairs. I had no idea kids were into those or needed that sort of relaxation, of course, the children in this neighborhood surely have a more difficult existence than the one I think of when I recall being a child (which mainly includes eating a SHIT TON of popsicles and trying to climb trees. Also being an asshole. Seems not much has changed. Except for the popsicle and tree climbing) The children around here might, in fact, actually be sent to do laundry. Anyways this facility is equipped with maybe 60 industrial dryers and the same amount of washers. Currently the machines are just under capacity and by that I mean maybe 12 are in use between myself and 3 other patrons. There are some dead plants, 6 old ass TV's playing nothing and the saddest looking employee in the world sitting behind a counter drinking a tamarind flavored drink. Maybe that's what's making her so sad? She couldn't get a normal flavor but rather got a great deal on some tamarind flavor and who the fuck even knows what that is? Everything here screams Miss Havisham's once great now dilapidated estate in Great Expectations, and I half expect to meet a hipster named Pip here sometime. I will ask him his thoughts on tamarind sodas.

Behind the counter with the girl in the tamarind induced depression, more signs of previous glory shine; a soda fountain featuring the very best Royal Crown products as well as a nacho cheese dispenser of some sort. Both look decidedly aged and aged about as well as someone who has been smoking Lucky Strikes since they were 12 (Ednas...these people are always named Edna. And they smell. Always). A bulletin board near the counter features, rather than neighborhood goings on, a number of rants by a man named Eugene. I guess we all need our forums. Eugene has chosen his and reaching a large number of people does not seem to be a goal of his. It would be like if Martin Luther had nailed his 95 Theses to a corkboard in a seldom used bathhouse of Wittenburg. AND also if Martin Luther did not care about religious reformation but instead about, and I quote, "has been spreading all that dog shit all around which is still day ruining to step in." Really Eugene? That's all it takes to ruin your day?

Scrub a Dub 08/15/11

There is a new owner! An ostentaciously dressed white man seemingly yelling his business plan at a grizzled older Hispanic fellow. Evidently number on on the plan is to "maintain these goddamned machines." From this I assume he just read Jack Welch's memoirs with a plan like that. Number one on grizzled old Hispanic man's plan is to try and politely leave this shouted at synergistic nightmare of a conversation. Sadly it seems he has merely the phrases he has picked up from Peter Francis Geraci commercials and Ronco rotisserie ads whirling through his mind, and he knows that either telling him about Chapter 13 bankruptcy or mesothelioma or "setting it and forgetting it" just wouldn't be right.

Scrub a Dub 09/10/11 "sempre con mio"

The changes that were promised are being made to return the Scrub a Dub to its glory days. $40 at a time. There is new shrubbery- roses and tiny ornamental grasses intricately planted in the beautiful gravel surrounding the parking lot. The counter inside, which as I mentioned previously was evidently there to sell fountain drinks and nachos to the starving, laundering masses, now is fully stocked with a dazzling array of laundry products. Big changes, right? The last time I was here I failed to write a log since I was more hungover than Benjamin Franklin on any morning, but had I done so I surely would have mentioned the number of women that were here inappropriately wearing leggings. If I wanted to watch sea lions mate, I would go to the zoo or sealionxxxaction.gov (an Al Gore sponsored site). These womean should be especially mindful of holes in their leggings. Realistically, the whole legging movement never should have started in the first place, but its new universal presence makes things even worse. I mean, if dudes started wearing jock straps outside their pants, I'd hope there would still be the sensible many who never gave in to this trend. Although I know a number of my friends would strap them on outside their embroidered fancy ass jeans and Ed Hardy or Affliction shirts and fedoras. Leggings as well as outer jock straps would just look silly on everyone, broham sandwich.

An act of chivalry gone Butch from Teen Mom

Last night, as I made my way home just after midnight from a casual evening of drinking, I was walking down my fancy ass Lincoln Park street, jamming out to Regulators (mound up) and generally minding my own business. I was definitely looking forward to getting to sleep, exhausted by a second five day work week in a row after an 18 month layoff from anything but 4 day work weeks.

No more than two doors down from my building as I loudly crooned, "next stop is the Eeeeeassssst siiiiiddddeee moooooooteelllllllll" I saw a group of young ladies struggling to move their very drunk and very passed out friend from their front stoop. Now it being just past midnight and me having just loudly sounded (more than likely) just like Nate Dogg (RIP. Hold on, I have to go pour out some liquor) I just walked on by, leaving them to their struggles.

As I walked into my apartment however, I did some quick physics calculations:

Drunk person passed out= drunk person's normal weight times 78

Once I did this calculation and realized that the girls trying to move their passed out friend were the types who might complain about having to carry pretty much anything for more than ten feet, I knew I had to, at the very least, walk back over and offer to help out. This was definitely going to be a kind gesture, but it was not very well thought out.

For one, I have never been, and will never be a young girl. I don't have a frame of reference for a 6'4" giant hulk of a very good looking man to walk up to me after midnight in my neighborhood. I have no clue what it is like to walk around at night and feel frightened with every passing person (mainly because you can always bark at anyone. try it, womenfolk.) mainly because most everyone is smaller than me, and probably a little less crazy.

So I ventured back over and approached the three young women trying to move their friend. As I walked up in a totally unthreatening manner, I said, "Hi, as I walked past before I couldn't help but notice that you were having some trouble moving your friend. Would you like some help?"

As I mentioned before, this was uncalculated and this is where I may as well have been Butch from Teen Mom, the cocaine loving, mullet sporting creepy fuck and walked up to them and said, 'Hey, you girls like to party?"

The girls seemed gracious and creeped out all at once as their eyes darted back and forth to one another. One of them spoke up, "Oh thank you so much, but she's just sleeping."

I replied, again with no couth whatsoever, "Oh right, 'sleeping' (laughing) I love 'sleeping' outside after a fun Friday night. Listen, I know how hard it is to move a passed out person."

Right then I wished I could have taken my words back, because stepping outside the situation and assessing it, I may as well have offered them GHB and asked if they all wanted to come over.

The girls continued to fidget nervously, obviously hoping I would turn and sprint away. "Thank you so much for your offer, but I think we can handle it."

"Ok," I said, as I smiled and turned away.

Lesson learned. Let drunk people move their friends about on their own, unless you are asked to help.

There’s poison in that jar? I thought I was allergic to pickles. What’s in the jar with the skull and crossbones? Well, that’s mayonnaise It's a decoy

Cat Stevens once crooned, "Ooooooo baby baby it's a wild world", at which point in time the statement itself drove him so crazy that he changed his name to Yusef Islam and opened a puppy mill, specializing in the cross breeding of large breeds and tiny ass purse size breeds. He also, wanting to prove how wild the world was opened "Yusef's Toast Emporium" which was a BYOT (bring your own toast) place where you told him upon what setting you wanted your bread toasted. Oddly, only the puppy mill proved to be a success. The toast idea, while intriguing, could take off at some point.

The reason I started this writing today with a direct excerpt from Wikipedia is that the world has taken on a wild new tilt lately. But no matter what, it's always crucial to remember as many Will Ferrell quotes as possible, think about squirrels doing dances to hip hop songs, and waiting for that day when senility creeps in and you can curse around little kids and pee in your pants.

Additionally perspective is always needed unless you want to always have only the most EXTREME points of view possible, which might be good if you are a snowboarder. But nothing in life is always "the most difficult", at least not yet. Wait until the machines take over. That will undoubtedly be more difficult, when you are forced to convince a car that you, in fact, cannot give it a ride somewhere. (Reference: Extreme Overdrive, honestly this will give you a better idea of some perspective for any current life situation)

In conclusion, I leave you with this brilliant quote:

Charlie: Do wasps make honey?
Dennis: No, wasps do not make honey.
Charlie: All right, well, I’m gonna check it out anyway; there could be something delicious in here that wasps do make, and I want that.

The place to be after the world ends

According to some weirdo that for some reason was allowed on the radio, the world is ending this Saturday, May 21. This guy also said that the world was ending in 1994, so I am not exactly holding my breath over here.

BUT, contingency plans never hurt anyone.

If the world should end, I am going to hell. I've laughed at a few too many situations I probably should not have. It's ok, most of you are probably going to hell too. Resignation to this fact will make the commute that much easier.

I am concerned about making sure I meet up with some awesome people for all eternity. So, the plan is this:

Everyone who wants to have fun, meet in the room in hell where all you do is get hammered all day everyday. The catch is, you wake up every morning tired, and with the worst (non puking) hangover you have ever had. And this being Hell, there is no headache reliever, Gatorade, or greasy food to get you back on track. Just more booze. That's what makes this room great. It's the place to be after around 4pm everyday. Mornings suck, but a three Bloody Mary's with a Jameson back should get you right back where you need to be.

Good plan? See everyone there.

Some other thoughts:

Facts about the nfl lockout for the casual nfl fan:

Over 90% of nfl players will end up getting stabbed during the lockout, typically in a domestic disturbance/strip club/ you said this nail salon was our little secret what is tmz doing outside skirmish.

You will see Peyton Manning and Drew Brees at Walgreens around the country bringing their commercial pitches to you in person, usually by hiding things in your cart or basket in hopes that you purchase them.

Now is the best time to expect seeing a local NFL star at your nearby cash title loan, because hey, a fully loaded Range Rover isn't going to feed an entourage.

My favorite conversation stopper lately is saying, "I don't want to get political with you." This really offers a segue away from anything, especially since politics are typically not being discussed. But hey, don't like the way the "where should we grab lunch" conversation is going? Treat the person you are talking to like they are Pat Buchanan talking about actual aliens being more allowed in this country then an 8th generation Mexican child. Say it like you are offended, then you pick the lunch spot.

A missive to the pedestrians of busy city sidewalks

Dearest foot travelers of the world, and busy city sidewalks in particular,

First of all, may I laud your decision to get around on foot. Way to put into good use that dinky pedometer you got from Mc Donald's. Your 2011 health goals should be narrowly accomplished around 2015. I do realize that your foot traffic is actually about more than that, it's the easiest way to get around, and public transportation systems have yet to find a way for you to latch your car on the front of their buses and trains, instead merely your bikes.

However, I must find you at fault for a number of egregious errors in the way that you walk about, so carelessly and without thought of those around you. Many of you are now thinking, "Oh wait, I hope this is not something mean about me!" Well, it probably is. Others are thinking, "I learned how to walk when I was (fill in age...2 to 15), this cannot have to do with me." Well, it probably does.

Walking on a sidewalk full of people is much like driving on a busy street. You must be aware of those around you and follow general rules:

1. Walk on the correct side of the sidewalk. This isn't goddamn Europe, stay to the right.
2. Do not cut people off.
3. Do not suddenly stop, invariably to take a picture of something, scratch your butt, or send a text message.

Easy enough right? But no, too complex it seems since I find people cutting me off, stopping, or coming at me head on even as I hug the far right side of the sidewalk.

To people who walk the wrong way on the sidewalk: I will knock you over. I have been playing this game of chicken for years. Go ahead walk determinedly directly at me, I will not stray from my course. You will. And then you will feel stupid. Or better yet, bump into my shoulder. That'll teach me.

To people who cut other pedestrians off: Listen, if you know you have to turn left, and you are driving, do you make your way to the far right turn lane? Then veer across all traffic? Unless your name is Sarah Plovanich, this is not the maneuver you try. You get in the left turn lane and go from there. Same thing goes on foot. If you have to enter your building on the left ten yards after crossing the street, do not cross the street standing to the far right of the group of people crossing en masse. Unless you are Barry Sanders. Then weave your way through. You are awesome.














Barry Sanders, who can do whatever he wants walking around.


To people who stop suddenly: This is a fine move if you are walking down some shaded boulevard, collecting your thoughts and admiring architecture. It does not fly when you are in a pack of 30 people walking the same direction. Furthermore, I am not Barry Sanders, much more Jerome Bettis. Stop within a foot in front of me, chances are I will knock your shit over, as I lack the spin moves and jukes necessary to avoid you. Then, don't have the gall to shoot ME a dirty look. You stopped. My crime was merely walking behind you. Which, last I checked, was not a crime.

Jerome Bettis, more my agility level

A couple other groups who I would like to bring into play:
1. People with umbrellas
2. People swinging their arms/bags

People with umbrellas, this might be a personal thing between people of a taller height like myself and you, but please be more courteous nonetheless. When the person of the average height is walking around with an umbrella, guess where the ends of the umbrella generally end up? Somewhere around the level of my eyes and face. Therefore I have almost considered calling in "fearful" to work on rainy days. Because I view an umbrella not as protection from rain, but rather as a dangerous device that will one day cause me great ocular damage. Seriously. Maybe I need some safety goggles.

And last, but certainly not least, people who swing either one or both of their arms so widely out from their body they create a road block so that I am unable to pass them. These people always walk slowly, and their arms always swing at a level that would surely strike my crotch if I were to get too close. Also, stop swinging around your bags.

Get the message pedestrians of the world?
1. I will knock you over.
2. I WANT to knock you over.
3. Don't poke out my eyes or hit my junk.

Cordially,
Timothy C. Radway

The Miseducation of Jonah Hill

The subject line of today's musings should be a Top 40 Album, with Jonah Hill remaking a bunch of Lauryn Hill songs. If William Hung could sell an album, then Jonah Hill could sell 12 albums. His album could go double aluminum, or triple wood as some in the biz call it.

The real reason I needed to speak out today was not to promote this album, but rather to speak on an important subject, and especially important given the fact that it is February 10th: Halloween.

I am not sure how this happens every year, especially given its consistent date, but Halloween always sneaks up on me. And as such, the week before Halloween you always find me in just about the same place; no concrete plans, awful costume ideas which develop one after the other, and the awful fear that Sam Adams Oktoberfest will once again be gone, as hearty and malted as when it showed up conspicuously early in mid August. My plan choices usually consist of some melange of parties at friends of friends, trick or treating in the projects, me putting on a "costume" (which is usually some pants I have not worn in a long time and a silly hat) and staring down a bottle of whiskey, or watching reruns of Step by Step on ABC Family. The costumes are even worse; they are either so elaborate that even the most skilled Hollywood costume designer would have a tough time making them on such short notice (ideas like..."Oh, I will just dress as an Orc from Lord of the Rings," or "I will just whip together a Spongebob Squarepants costume ((which would end up with me looking something more like an IRS auditor))".

This week before Halloween is in direct comparison to the week following Halloween each year. November 3 or thereabouts, I know exactly what my costume will be for the next year (always something extremely witty, brilli ant, well designed, and easy to put together) and as far as venue goes, i always have exact plans for the next year at that point (although as goes for any holiday, should hugh hefner invite me to the mansion, i will be there. Especially for one of his legendary arbor day parties ((brought to you by arbor mist: arbor mist the number one wine for people confused as to what wine is or what it should taste like))

So, how will i avoid this next year you may ask? There are only a couple sure fire solutions: buy a shit ton of masks, or just get it over with and buy a unitard and tell people every year I am some different WWF (I refuse to say WWE, since when it was awesome, it was still the WWF) wrestler. This will cover costumes for years to come. I will wear these masks with the tuxedo that I own. Then I'll be classy spiderman, classy king kong, classy nixon, classy Andre the Giant, classy Ravishing Rick Rude, classy Doink, etc (and wrestling nerds, I don't give a shit that these people did not wear unitards....if you really think I would pay for an airbrushed pair of Spandex pants with my face on it, well, you might be correct, but regardless, the unitard has to have some use). Once these ideas were exhausted, I would be like 57 years old, and so busy flying around with my jetpack that I have little time to think about Halloween or anything but my successful futuristic career designing...ummm....something futuristic sounding, like koopelbangs.

As far as venue, i should simply begin holding a giant Halloween party every year....complete with a giant bowl of punch, a creepy noises soundtrack i will pick up at target, a bowl of eyeballs i tell people are peeled grapes, some cow brain i tell people is cow brain, and some convicts dressed as such. All of these will make my party extremely authentic, frightening, and fun. Especially the convict part, especially when we play a game of "my knives are missing from the kitchen and old Howard over there was in the tank for stabbing people and has an odd look in his eye"

I am happy to have helped everyone solve Halloween. Start thinking about it today, February the 10th, and I guarantee some success for October 31 this year. And by success I mean not watching Step by Step for your Halloween excitement this year.