Mac, Jurko and Harry just did their live remote from a bar right around the corner from my Grandma's house. And now that I think about it, I can visualize the place: an Irish joint at the corner of Pulaski and W. 111th, just across the border in Oak Lawn. It has an outdoor courtyard.
Why do I bring this up? Well, I've got a lot of love for that area -- a lot of history in that area. And if I had had my druthers, I would've got a bit drunk down there today, too. ... Now that I think of it ... I could've pulled it off. ... Yes ... We have summer hours. I could've left at 1; caught a cab to the school. Begged Erika for the car; hopped on the Dan Ryan ... I would've been sucking down Miller Lites by 2, sitting by myself in a South Side Irish bar surrounded by fat guys.
At least I could've visited my Grandma afterward. "Grandma ... I just need to ... lie down here ... tell me ... how your ... day ... was ..."
Wake up by 9, bleary; drive through the thunderstorm and experience unpleasant deja vu.
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