Essays, Interviews, Observations, Pop Culture, Stories, and other Dodginess

Bringing Aibreann back from Ireland

Posted on January 24, 2014

"Bringing Aibreann back from Ireland"

Or “The Asshole Dublin Club”

“You know, my sister talks about you a lot. I think she cares about you. You seem to mean something to her.”

“Then why is she in Ireland?”

And so it began. Another reason to travel back to Ireland. Bring the girl back.

Shauna didn’t have to answer my question about her sister. We knew why she was there. It had to do with a graduate research program at Trinity College for a semester, maybe two. Maybe three. I was hoping to get her back after one.

It’s not just because we were, as she called it, “an almost” before she left. No one’s being selfish here. The bottom line is there was a creative project of ours Aibreann was a big part of and she left shortly after it’s run. But we’d gotten word that it was being picked up in bigger fashion and had some real potential. And I wanted Aibreann to reclaim her role, not only in the project but maybe in my life, too.

Aibreann looked and acted like a Disney princess but with faults. The last time I saw her was after an argument. I remember a frown and romantic curls under a knit  hat.

Yet, she welcomed myself and my fellow assholes – Depressed Johnny,  Aidan, and Chicago reclusive author Clive Javanski. Her sister also joined us for the trip.

We did some things. We drank and danced watched Aidan, who brought his guitar, busk on Grafton Street. Depressed Johnny questioned whether it was appropriate, given that Aidan doesn’t live there. We asked a couple schoolgirls who stopped to watch. One said Aidan was “an arse” and the other said he was cute. Aidan’s not a bad musician. He was once in a band called the Weird Asian Girls. No one in the band was Asian, or girls for that matter. But damn they were weird.

We stopped at O’Donoghue’s, where Aidan showed up in a kilt.

“Look, this is my beer garden kilt. I wore it especially for you guys.”

“These are my beer garden pants,” I replied. “I wore them especially for everyone here.”

We  went ice skating. It was the best day with Aibreann.  I’ve kissed a girl on roller blades, I’ve kissed a girl on a bike, on a raft, and in a car. But I’ve never kissed a girl on ice skates. Until then.

Oh, and Clive disappeared for two days.

Aibreann didn’t give us a decision on whether she would return in time for the project or stay.

Before we left her place she handed me a letter.  An actual, hand-written letter in an off-white envelope.

“Don’t read it until you’re on the plane.”

I did wait. I did open it on the plane. It was a good letter. But Aibreann wrote that she would be staying in Ireland.

Shauna, seated next to me, must have known, and she gave me a kiss on the cheek. “This story will continue,” she said. “This story will continue.”

Coming Soon: Interview with actress Marsha Dietlein

Posted on January 14, 2014

"Marsha Dietlein Newlyweds picture"

If you were to ask me to name my top five movies of the last couple years, I’d tell you two of them are the Edward Burns films Newlyweds and The Fitzgerald Family Christmas. These critically acclaimed gems were filmed in New York with pretty much the same cast, including the amazing Marsha Dietlein. I don’t  want to say she steals every scene she’s in because all the actors were great in them, but she kicks my ass and yours in these films. She was also in Burns’ Nice Guy Johnny and other stuff. But we’ll get into all that because she’s the next interview on The Dodgy. Look for it February 9 and find out what role she was up for in Burns’ She’s The One.

"Marsha Dietlein in The Fitzgerald Family Christmas"

Marsha and matching PJ’s in “The Fitzgerald Family Christmas”

Newlyweds on The Dodgy

Kerry Bishe, Marsha Dietlein, Edward Burns, Caitlin Fitzgerald “Newlyweds”

Also, we’re a little late, but we wanted to do something to honor Banksy’s recent residency in New York. We have a special “Dodgy” painting that will be left somewhere in the Wicker Park or Bucktown neighborhood. It will most likely end up in the garbage, ripped apart, or used as a wipe in a dog park. But we’ll see. More on this later.

You’re the Weird Girl, I’m the Asshole

Posted on January 8, 2014

You're The Weird Girl and I'm The Asshole

During the holidays I attended a party at Chicago reclusive author Clive Javanski’s place. There was a guy there wearing Jesus pants and playing acoustic guitar, but I’m not going to talk about that.

I’m going to talk about the Weird Girl.

I never have expectations when it comes to ladies when Clive hosts a social gathering, which is rare (the last time it happened, he was gone for three hours – turns out he was at Quenchers Saloon). I’ve seen models there, bookish-types, some that look homeless and one that had a penis.

So I’m drinking a Polish Weiss in the kitchen and in walks three girls. One of them was the Weird Girl. She walked up to me and while I was talking to Norm and introduced herself. I didn’t really understand her name. I asked her to repeat it. It had all sorts of vowels and consonants and all I know is it rhymed with Quasimodo. She said this name was given to her by “a lady who rose from the water.”

I decided to call her “Q” and asked, politely, what her deal was.

Q is from Minnesota and she’s on a journey to wherever “the energy” takes her. She doesn’t know the two girls she walked in with that well, but she’s staying with them over the holidays.  Then she’s off to Atlanta, where she knows nobody but was told in a vision to go there. She babbled on about her “mission” and I started to think she was part of a cult but I stopped asking questions because the party was too loud. I started looking her up and down, wondering if her oddness could work to my advantage, as I was in the mood to  just make out with someone. She wore a friendly red sweater and a flowing hippie dress. She wasn’t beautiful, but attractive in a culty way.  She looked like the girl next door to the girl next door. As I was half-listening she said something about “eight men” but I didn’t know if it was a sexual goal or if she was talking about the baseball film.

I thought maybe she was a Second City actress fucking with me. Just as I was eyeballing over her shoulder, checking out her temporary roommate, a French/Mexican beauty, she said she had to find different energy at the party and shook my hand. While doing so she creepily rubbed my palm with her index finger.

I don’t know why she ignored Norm, who remained standing next to me the entire time. I think she was put off by his Farm & Fleet shirt.

About two hours later Weird Girl did a weird thing. A bunch of people brought food to the party, including someone who supplied a platter of cookies. When Weird Girl was leaving was leaving with her two friends she said she was heading to another holiday party. She asked if she could package up some of those cookies to take to the next party. Clive sorta shrugged and put some in a small container.

“She could’ve asked to take beer, and that actually would have seemed more normal to me,” Clive said. “But fuck it.”

I left shortly after and as I was walking by a nearby bar I thought I recognized a blonde girl having a smoke outside. Sure enough it was Kirsten, a girl I volunteered with in college and briefly dated. She was an evil drunk and one night we went out, got in a fight, and broke up. She brought with her that night a gift that was beautifully wrapped in Christmas paper. But since we broke up before I never knew what it was.

She saw me pause on the sidewalk and look at her. She put out her cigarette and as she walked back in the bar said, “You’ll never know what that present was and you’re still an asshole.”