So, I had a dream last night...

DISCLAIMER:

YOU WILL LOVE THIS ARTICLE IF: You cried openly after the Green Bay Packers won Superbowl XLV.

YOU WILL HATE THIS ARTICLE IF: Seeing emotional, obnoxious "adults" screaming loudly about grown men playing with a pig's bladder made you worry about the current state of humanity.

It's been a few weeks since the Green Bay Packers' thrilling victory over the Pittsburgh Steelers. However, football season is now unfortunately over (perhaps for a long time when you consider a possible lockout) and I'm eagerly awaiting the 2011 NFL Draft. Long story short: Football is on my mind. It only makes sense that something that I'm so passionate about now has entered my subconscious, and I'm now going to discuss the best idea I've ever had.

Going to a Chicago Cubs vs. Chicago White Sox baseball game, wearing Packer jerseys and cheeseheads, and totally alienating the people around us.

What I'm proposing is simple:

1. Get a group of people together that share my Packer fanaticism
2. Purchase tickets to a Cubs/White Sox baseball game
3. Drive down to Chicago wearing Packer gear
4. Tailgate outside the stadium for hours, heckling Chicago-area fans. Do Lambeau Leaps into the back of our vehicles.
5. Lil Wayne's "Green and Yellow" playing. Constantly.
6. Enter stadium, after enjoying some adult beverages
7. Basic plan for the 9 innings of baseball (~3.5 hours):
   
   • "Go Pack Go" chants...often, and loudly.
   • Hold signs that say: "Welcome to Lambeau Field South."
   • Make a lot of "Da Bears" jokes. A LOT of them.
   • Ask the people around us who their favorite Packers are.
   • Give out some cheeseheads and trading cards to little kids in hopes of angering their depressed parents who have been Cubs fans all their lives, and likely will never witness a championship. Ever.
   • Advertise the many attractions of Wisconsin; state parks, resorts, haunted houses, etc.
   • When the game is over, raise our replica Super Bowl trophies, and in unision exclaim, "The Vince Lombardi trophy is coming home!"
8. Post-game festivities:
   
   • If the game took place at Wrigley Field, spend the night, explore Michigan Avenue, dine at the restaurants, and have an overall great night.
   • If the game took place at U.S. Celluar Field, leave, and as QUICKLY as possible. Let's be honest here, we are in South Chicago, and statistically speaking, the odds of us getting shot are quite high...especially after angering so many people.

That's essentially it. The fans of the Chicago Cubs and Chicago White Sox vehemently hate eachother. However, I feel that they could somehow put their differences aside and direct their anger at us instead. I honestly believe that we have been too respectful of the Bears fans since they lost to the Packers a few weeks ago, and letting them off the hook simply isn't right. If interested, get ahold of me, and we'll start planning the weekend trip of our lives.

In spite of Scott Walker being our governor, I'm still really proud to be a Wisconsinite.

You have no idea how immensely I want to wear my Ray Nitschke jersey in Chicago.

Spontaneity + Laziness = $

Anybody that has known me for any considerable amount of time understands that I truly love food, and also greatly enjoy cooking my own meals. I love trying new dishes. However, I also seek out familiar classics such as gargantuan-sized portions of steaks, sandwiches, burgers, and breakfasts. Since I've been of legal age, I've also throughly enjoyed mixing my own drinks, and buying German-inspired brews for my own consumption at home. If you have ANY sort of economic prowess, you understand that attempting to eat and drink at home is CONSIDERABLY cheaper than doing the same at restaurants and bars. Clearly, going out is definitely a great way of being social and trying new things, and doing so a couple times a week is expected and endorsed. 

Keyword on a couple.

Hi, my name is Jesse Zakshesky, and lately, I've been too lazy to buy groceries. When you combine that with the fact that I get incredibly hungry ALL THE TIME, desperation ensues. This problem usually is escalated when I have had a few of these "drinks" I was talking about above, which lately have been purchased at bars instead of being found in my refrigerator and/or liquor collection. The really sad part is that I've worked part time at a damn grocery store for the past 5 years, so I really can't complain about it being "too far away."

My roommates and close friends challenged me to document, for a week, how much I spend on food and drinks in hopes that I will prove a point to myself about how much money I shell out on a whim. And lucky for you, I'm sharing this data with the public as well. 

Guys, seriously, go to Flemings.

Allow me to elaborate on some of the aforementioned data: 

• Eric and I really, REALLY love Silver Mine Subs.
• The eggnog purchase was completely ridiculous considering that I've never had it before, ever. Luckily, it was amazing and I plan on having a lot more this month.
• The gyros at Parthenon would've never happened had it not been for the over consumption of eggnog/rum a few hours prior.
• Thursday's meal technically was planned. Also, if you live in Madison, try Flemings. Now.
• The grand total could've been A LOT higher considering the fact that I didn't go to any bars this week. Thank you winter. 

If you excuse me, I'm going to go reevaluate my life, probably at a bar, and afterwards at Qdoba.

The 1st Annual Zakshesky Urban Safari

WHAT YOU ARE ABOUT TO READ IS INCREDIBLY, INCREDIBLY STUPID. I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE.

In the great state of Wisconsin, during the month of November, thousands upon thousands of men go on a yearly pilgrimage into the woods accompanied by their survival skills, high-powered rifles, and an insatiable thirst for blood (and beer, of course). Their mission is simple: to kill “The Buck.” These hunters take pride in passing down stories of years past, such as traversing secluded forests, and they normally have the same routines every year, which were forged by previous generations. All this history usually leads to stronger family bonds, and these tales inspire younger generations to continue the campaign every fall. It truly is inspiring, and is MUCH more than “a bunch of blood-thirsty rednecks getting drunk while driving ATVs recklessly through northern Wisconsin.” This leads us to me. I would love to take part in this yearly tradition, but let’s be honest, there are three things holding me back.

It’s really early, it’s really cold, and it would be a grave mistake to put a gun in my hands.

However, this does not mean I shouldn’t be able to hunt, and this most certainly does not quench the desire I have to kill some animals. If you are my close friend, and have been to my apartment on various occasions, you know of a certain mythical creature that has been taunting me over the months. I’ve seen this beast a multitude of times over the summer, however, he’s been avoiding me as of late...until 7:30pm on the evening of the 22nd of November. As you’ll see in the blurry photo below, my neighborhood on the east side of Madison is being terrorized by a demonic creature, and if I have my way, he will die.

The true face of evil.

I don’t have any guns, but this does not mean I’m weaponless. Without going into detail on how I obtained it, I have acquired a pitchfork last summer, and already have an extensive collection of knives, axes, and most importantly, hard liquor. There really isn't a reason as to why this disgusting possum has a chance to live. Furthermore, I genuinely believe that we can experience the same enthusiasm and forge our own tradition by killing the savage creatures that roam Suburbia. If you, or anybody you know feels the same urges as I do, I plead with you to join me on my quest. I'm an easy guy to get a hold of.

I will not relinquish until I have spilled blood.

The Bloody Glove: A Business Proposal

A couple days ago, my buddy David and I were at The Pizza Oven, a Monona, Wisconsin gem that just so happens to serve the best pizza I have ever eaten. It's a bold statement, but I would also like to point out that I've eaten A LOT of damn pizza in my life.

Now that I've gotten my promotional considerations out of the way, let me get to the guts of this story. David and I realized after looking around the place, that the walls are completely filled with sports memorabilia, from the likes of the Green Bay Packers and Brett Favre to other nationally themed tributes, such as Tiger Woods, Mark McGwire and Jim Brown. 

At this point David asks me, "You know what would be awesome? What if instead of basically worshiping these people for all of their athletic achievements, what if a restaurant instead put up framed pictures and news articles of all their scandals?"

A revolutionary idea was conceived.

Imagine this: It's Saturday night, and you want to watch the game. You and your buddies walk through the doors of a sports bar to see walls filled with Michael Vick and Tiger Woods. Any "normal" establishment would focus primarily on Michael Vick's days as a NFL phenom or Tiger Woods' dominance in golf.

Not here. Oh, and from this point forward, "here" is now known simply as The Bloody Glove. The Bloody Glove would have an entire wall filled with pictures of Tiger Woods' bruised face, a collage of all women he allegedly slept with, and probably a TV with which I will loop his voicemails to these women and have them transcribed so you, as the customer, can enjoy the downfall of a man who used to be the face of golf, but now has problems even qualifying for tournaments.

We've covered Tiger Woods, but what other athletes could we exploit? I've conveniently made a list of some of the walls David and I plan on having in this restaurant. And yes, there are going to be A LOT of walls at The Bloody Glove. It'll actually be the most architecturally pleasing establishment you've ever been to.

• Brett Favre: Vicodin addiction, alcohol abuse, maybe some retirement drama for good effect.
• Michael Vick: Dog Fighting, airport bong seizure, giving fans the middle finger.
• Barry Bonds: Steroids. A LOT of steroids.
• Roger Clemens: Refer to Barry Bonds.
• Dennis Rodman: I don't even know where to begin.
• Plaxico Burress: Guns don't shoot people, Plaxico Burress shoots people...most notably himself.
• OJ Simpson: "If the glove don't fit, you must acquit." In case you haven't realized yet, that very glove mentioned in Johnnie Cochran's memorable quote is the namesake for this amazing restaurant.
• Michael Phelps: DUI, bong photo.

Clearly we need to apply for a loan as soon as possible.

Never again.

People who know me are aware of the fact that I can eat a lot of food. Quite simply, my appetite is nothing short of legendary. Taking this all into account, one would be surprised to hear me complaining about how full I am.

My roommate Eric and I admittedly were lazy tonight, and didn't feel like cooking anything. Since I was pretty hungry, I decided that I was in the mood for some Hunan Beef from Asian Kitchen. If you know me personally, and stalk my Facebook status updates like you should, you'll remember about a month ago me complaining about how I didn't feel so good the following day after eating Asian Kitchen. One would think that I would have learned my lesson. 

Think again. It turns out that I'm a total dumbass, and against my better judgment agreed to this godforsaken meal thinking that the incident a month prior was merely a fluke.

We placed our order, put on some 30 Rock, and patiently waited for our food to arrive. The problem with Asian Kitchen isn't the price of the food, nor the quality. To put it bluntly, the problem with Asian Kitchen is simply this:

They jam way too much fucking food into the Styrofoam deathtraps they call "Dinner Combos."

Again, the food itself was quite tasty, which explains why all 1.5 pounds or so is currently residing inside of my stomach. Not to mention those 2 eggrolls. Eggrolls may look and sound innocent, but I can assure you, those deep fried bastards pack a devastating punch. Moreover, I have a strong suspicion that mixing Duck Sauce with their blend of spices actually "tricks" your mind and body into thinking that you are enjoying your meal, when in fact, with each passing bite you are slowly killing yourself.

Eric and I watched about 3 episodes of 30 Rock tonight. The first 2.5 episodes were enjoyable, and during that time we were having a nice, quiet evening. The last 15 minutes of episode 3 however is a much different story. If you were to walk in, I would have been found sprawled out and moaning in a comatose state across my couch, with my legs in the adjacent chair, and a glass of water in my hand. I literally thought I could feel the hydrochloric acid inside my stomach attempting to digest its own protective lining. 

In closing, I would just like to just say this. I wish no ill-will upon the fine folks who operate Asian Kitchen; what you guys have given to me over the years is nothing short of spectacular. When it comes to value, taste, and reliability, Asian Kitchen is second to none. But in all seriousness, unless I'm completely, utterly, 100% inebriated beyond the likes of which I haven't been in a long time, I'm going to have to look elsewhere for my late night food fix.

I'm tempted to call in "sick" tomorrow, walk to the park, and be the man in the above photograph.