State of the Buban.

I just realized that the chair I use at my desk should probably be a bit taller so I can type without my arms resting on top of my laptop. Perhaps this will be the cause of the carpal tunnel syndrome I'm sure to acquire now that I'm officially past the point of my youth.

Of course my definition of youth has evolved as I've tacked on more and more years. I'm sure I said the same thing about it back when I turned 30, but those were different times. I was more carefree, had a decent career (or so I thought), had a long, prosperous future ahead. Heck, I even threw myself a pretty damned good birthday party as well, even though Jennifer didn't show up, since she was too busy sitting inside a boiling cauldron of a tent at some hippie commune out on the west coast. Ten years later, I suppose it's time to forgive her for that, but I can probably wait another year or two, she won't notice.

So here I sit, thinking about this being the last day of my 30's and trying to come up with something interesting to say about moving on up in the age brackets of life. Unfortunately, early onset alzheimer's has really early onsetted, as I'm kind of drawing a blank, or writing a blank, or shooting blanks or whatever the phrase is supposed to be. You decide.

Well I lasted a lot longer than Marc Bolan did, there's always that.

If you don't know who that is, please stop reading my blog, or if that's just not an option, which I completely understand, Google Marc Bolan and immerse yourself in the Warlord of the Royal Crocodiles whilst Carsmile Smith and the Old One Groove a Little.

Now where were we?

Oh yeah, I'm old. That's where we were.

Dangit.

Sometimes when I close my eyes and the world goes numb, I pretend that I'm not old. It's nice for a moment, but then that moment fades and something much harsher returns to focus.

So this is how you feel, Loreen?

I only wrote that to see if you actually ever read this blog. You're the least old person I know.

Maybe I'm not all that old. I mean, I've got a copy of The O'Reilly Factor For Kids right here on the top of my desk. This probably means I'm a kid, right? Right???? It should probably be on the bottom of my desk, but it somehow weaseled it's way up near the top. Funny how conservatives can do that. Anyway, I'm too busy reading Sarah Palin's last book, so I haven't started this one, but believe me, it's in the queue. Heck, even though I haven't started reading it, I've started tonguing Bill's ear in hopes of gaining a bit of his life wisdom. It's sort of like osmosis, but through the tongue. I've had some good results with this method, but I haven't been able to get anything out of Palin or O'Reilly so far. For the life of me, I can't figure out why not. Here's the method in pictorial form if that will help you see what lengths I go to in order to assimilate information into my being.

Information Whore

Feel free to click on the picture in order to enlarge it.

Okay seriously, where were we? Still talkin' golden oldies, right?

Right.

I also have some Silly Putty on my desk and a Smurf Birthday figurine, so maybe I'm not as old as I claim to be. Actually, let's see what else is on my desk to prove that I'm not actually an old geezer.

There's a Greg Brock baseball card from 1991 that I found on the street while walking to work a few months back. Though baseball cards used to be for kids, no kid these days is collecting beaten up Greg Brock cards from the street. Trying to be a kid fail.

There's eight unopened fortune cookies. No kid would have that many unopened fortune cookies on his or her desk. They'd be opened, eaten and digested a long, long time ago. Fail. But those are for a blog feature that I like to do now and again, so they'll stay unopened for a while.

There's a bottle of water. Do kids drink water these days or is there an app for that? Ha ha ha...that was clever.

There's some headphones. Okay, kids use headphones.

There's a mostly empty box of Milk Duds. Kids still love Milk Duds, right? That's one of the coolest candies of all-time. You can find them right beside the Sno-Caps and the White Fish at your local movie theatre.

There's a mostly empty cocktail glass of what used to be an old-fashioned. Damnit, there's that word. I knew I should've just made some sizzurp, or at the least, picked up some Four Loko at CVS.

Maybe I shouldn't have looked at what's on my desk.

There's no doubt about it. Tomorrow, I'll be 40 years old. Four decades of life. For a second there, I was trying to change the math in my head, thinking it might not be that long, but I was wrong, it has been that long. I'm not sure how I made it this long. There were many times in life when I was ready to call it a life and head on downstairs to hell, but for some reason, I didn't choose that path.

Of course, now that the gun laws are finally changing here in Chicago, maybe I'll reconsider? That's such an easy way to do it. When I start writing blog love letters to the NRA, please understand that I'm gonna off myself pretty soon.

Anyway...

I have nothing but love and gratitude for all my friends and family who kept me afloat during the darkest days and who also...desperately tried to drown me when I became so famous and cool that they couldn't stand it. That hasn't actually happened yet, but when it does you can all suck on my O'Reilly as I'll be too cool for school.

Well here goes...

I'm sorry to those I hurt along the way.

I'm grateful for the love I've received throughout from my family. You kids are the best, regardless of whether or not you happen to be older or younger than my present self. Of course, as the youngest of six, all my brothers and sisters are older than I am...so....uhhh...there's that I guess. We may not have the most normal of families, but I'll be damned if I'd have it any other way. Oh sure, throw in a few million inherited bucks and my tune would change rapidly, but it doesn't look like that's happening, so let's all be thankful for where we're at and who we've got. And what I've got is, without a doubt, the best there is on this here Earth. Thank you!

To my friends...besides my family, you're all I've got. You'll never quite understand how important you are to my existence. Without you I'd have only strangers to make fun of and put down and that's bound to get old after a while, so thank you for accepting my verbal abuse over these past however many years you've known me. You are all amazing, beautiful people and I can't wait to come up with some more zingers to take the wind out of your sails.

I miss all those who passed away too soon, as well as those who passed on at the right time. I'm not going to name names, but you know who you are.

This has been your State of the Buban.

Thanks for putting up with all my nonsense for 40 years.

I love you all.

David Anthony John Buban

Drivin' Mr. Davey.

Happy New Year my friends. I hope you are all doing well here in 2014. Last year was nothing short of amazing and I can only hope that 2014 will bring more of the same, not just to myself, but to all of you as well, my loyal blog readers. Not that you're necessarily only loyal to this blog, as I'm sure there are many, many other interesting blogs out there that warrant your attention, but I just want happiness for all blog readers out there, regardless of which blog or blogs they may be following. That's just how I am....always wanting the best for those who read short posts on occasion.

Anyway, one of the things that 2013 brought me was employment, and not just any employment, but employment that finally delivered the dream sort of job I've only dreamt of for all (almost) 40 years of my existence. I always wanted a job that would afford me the luxury of driving a Mercedez-Benz, and now I've got just that....as I drive a Mercedes-Benz Sprinter Van most of each and every Goddamned day! All those days of my youth when I'd spend my time rolling metal toy trucks to and fro across the carpet from this side of the room to the next have finally become reality. Oh sure, I don't actually drive a big rig, but this is a step in the right direction. I always said you gotta start somewhere and if that's at the bottom of the driving chain, well gosh darnit, that's where I'll start. Here's a little picture of my own personal paradise....

And here's what the inside looks like...

Bitches gotz to ride in style, am I right?

I'm wrong.

It doesn't actually look like that. It's much more metallic looking and quite a bit more sparse. Also since I'm driving it wouldn't really matter if it looked like this would it? The answer is no, no it wouldn't.

However...in lieu of not having that sweet setup inside the back of the van, I've got myself some other pretty entertaining options up front behind the wheel and I'm going to tell you all about them. Lucky for you, as I'm sure there are times when you're out driving around wishing texting and drinking weren't illegal as there's not much else to keep you entertained on the interstates and city streets. Well here are some games I've devised to help quell the boredom that can set in pretty much every hour of the day.

Please keep in mind that my company is located on the South side of Chicago. I won't disclose the actual location or the company name as I certainly don't wish to be fired or embarrass my employers, who are pretty fine people, but just for clarification, it's in between Midway and the Stevenson expressway.

Anyway on with the games. Feel free to play them when you're out driving.

The Double Mex!

Also known as a the Mexican! Mexican!

This occurs when I pass by two Mexican restaurants which are located right next to each other...no other businesses in between. When this happens, I honk for 3 seconds and shake my fist out the window while singing whichever Menudo song comes to mind. It makes no sense, as Menudo was a Puerto Rican band, but I do it anyway.

Terry Cloth Gross Robe. 

This is a fun game. Just tune into NPR. That's 91.5 on the FM dial here in Chicago. Once you start to space out for a bit (and it'll happen eventually), imagine that you're sitting down for an interview with Terry Gross, who's only wearing a terry cloth bathrobe. The interview doesn't have to get sexy, but for me, it always does.

Billboard Solutions. 

This game is played most often on 294, but you can also do it on the other highways, it's just that you're probably not going to solve anything quite as easily. The premise is that before I leave work I pick out one problem that I've been encountering in life lately and by the time my trip is over I have to find one billboard that advertises the best solution to my problem. Honestly, this works out better than most of the advice shrinks have given me over the years. Of course, JBK is the only shrink I've actually known and since he's my friend and I only see him when we're drinking and bullshitting, I probably shouldn't discount the value psychiatrists can provide. Anyway, back to the game. So pick out a problem and find a billboard that offers you a solution to that problem. It's almost foolproof. I've never solved so many issues just by going to White Fence Farm and Sybaris.

Wheels of Confusion

This is fun and really easy to do, so follow these instructions. Start driving down the highway and stare straight ahead. Don't look in the mirror. Don't look to the side, stare straight ahead. It also helps a LOT if you're hungover and/or very, very tired. Anyway, keep staring straight ahead and try to focus on one small, single dot way out far in the distance. Then let your mind go blank while staring at that dot. When you've gotten that far, start to think about being back at home and climbing into your warm, comfortable, inviting bed and pulling the covers slowly over your eyes, blocking out all light and life from your existence. Now the game begins. Sooner or later you're going to hear someone honk at you or you're going to crash into something. You win when you hear the honk and can react to it soon enough to prevent the crash. If you crash, you kind of lose, but not necessarily. It all depends on your perception of the crash, and it also depends on if you're dead or not.

You can also play the game by substituting death in place of your warm bed, but I find that to be a bit morbid, but feel free to play the game however you want. Regardless, if you play the game right, this is what you might see immediately before the exciting conclusion...

The Bob Seger Tweaker. 

This one is pretty easy to play. Every time a Bob Seger song starts playing on the radio, shoot up a bit of meth. I'm not sure any artist more accurately expresses meth use with his song titles than Bob Seger. Night Moves, Turn the Page, Still the Same, Roll Me Away, Beautiful Loser, Like a Rock, Mainstreet, The Fire Inside, The Fire Down Below, Get Out of Denver, Nutbush City Limits. The list goes on and on and on, never ending...just like I feel when a Bob Seger song hits the radio. He may not be a tweaker, but he's definitely the Seger.

Flash Cab!

Every time you drive by a Flash cab, you have to flash them! Now this is kind of difficult, since I don't have a pair of tits, so what I do is flash them mentally. Not with my non-existent tits, but what I do is mentally try to get one of my testicles to drop a bit further down than the other one. This is much more difficult to do than it might seem, especially when I switch it up, as I'm right-brained, but left-testicled, so when I try to do the opposite, it's very, very difficult. Also, this probably doesn't qualify as flashing, but when you're out on the open road making up games, you have to give yourself a bit of latitude with the rules.

Banquet Hall Bawl. 

You probably won't understand this one, but every time I pass by a banquet hall over here on the South side, I let out a bawl that would make a thousand banshees envious. This happens because after pretty much every death in my family we usually end up at one of these banquet halls for some sort of luncheon, so what I'm doing is honoring the deceased with my bawls. I don't know if that should be pluralized, but after the Flash Cab game, it seems more appropriate. Actually now that I think of it, it's not so much honoring the dead as it is wanting more South side kraut and polish sausage in my belly. Damn that stuff is good. One of these days, I'll stop and get some.

Nose Pickin' Trickin'

This is probably the game I play most often. All you have to do is stick a finger up your nose and start picking at your boogers. It doesn't matter if you're pretending or if you're really going at it, the game still works. All you have to do is get the driver next to you to laugh at you for your picking prowess. Most of the time they just look over with a dumb expression, but some will laugh. But really, the laughs on them as I'm really usually picking my nose. Like I said there's not much to do on the road. If the driver laughs, you don't have to eat the booger. If they don't laugh, well...

This game often segues nicely into the last game I'm going to share with you...

White Booger, Yellow Booger, Green Booger, Red Booger, STOP!

Now some of you who were just pretending to pick at your nose (liars) won't do so well at this game, but I'm pretty well versed in this one. So start picking and if you come out with a white booger, don't do anything, just keep searching. That's a freebie booger, since they're so common. Now if you come across a yellow one, you're getting somewhere, but not really. Yellow booger means you let off the gas and coast for ten seconds. This is really fun, as it pisses off a lot of people, especially when you're on the highway. Keep picking. If you happen upon a green booger, slam on the gas and haul ass for ten seconds. I don't get too many of the greenies, so this doesn't happen too often. Consider yourself lucky if you do, as it's always fun to haul ass. If you keep picking long enough, eventually the boogers will turn red. Slam on the breaks! Usually the people behind you will be able to stop, but if not, it's their own fault as they should have been paying more attention. If an accident does occur, make sure you clean off your fingers before getting out of the car to confront the asshole who hit you. If no accident occurs, stop playing the game, because red booger is synonymous with blood booger, and your'e probably doing some damage to your nasal passage.

Well that's all the games I've got for you at this point, but believe me there are plenty more. I may have my dream job, but that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun while daydreaming away my job. Perhaps that doesn't make sense to you, but it does to me, and this is my blog so that's all that matters. Good night.