The Shan Speaks: Notes from the Small but Wise

DSQUARED: Boots & Shoes I Want

2009-01-03T01:02:00.006-05:00

I've got a birthday in a couple weeks. Don't hurt yourself trying to come up with clever gift ideas. Either of these will do. Please note that I'd prefer the boots in cordovan. Also, don't feel the need to spring for these on your own. I'm accepting contributions to Shannon's Well-Heeled Thirtysomething Fund starting...NOW.

7 Dirty Words

2008-12-08T22:30:00.003-05:00

Shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cock-sucker, mother-fucker and tits. Because I miss Carlin. Because I'm not a 'lady.' And because there's no such thing as a dirty word.

Much The View About Nothing

2008-11-22T19:03:00.006-05:00

Ten bucks says that Rosie and Barbara are IMing each other non-stop and LOLing their asses off. If I had a variety show premiering the day before Thanksgiving, the biggest bar holiday next to St. Paddy's Drunken Fest, I'd punch my own mother in the face for some publicity. Everyone and their brother will be at the local watering hole, catching up with friends, griping about relatives and ingesting car bombs. No one's scouting the TV guide or channel surfing. So my money's on The View matriarch's latest sound bite feud with her former colleague being a hoax, a stunt, a way to get Billy Bush and Mario Lopez's overpaid lips a-buzzing. One question remains: Will Rosie's well-timed PR skirmish translate into viewers? You tell me Joe Six Pack. Does that loudmouthed fat dyke (a typical description, one O'Donnell herself mocks openly) getting into another fight make you want to watch her new show?

Truthfully, I don't think it's a stunt at all. Two enormously accomplished women are sniping at each other on the talk show airwaves and it's ruining my appetite for turkey. Ladies, how about a little restraint? Rise above this kind of display.

Twitter and Widget

2008-10-28T18:18:00.004-04:00

Twitter and widget are my new favorite words. Well, they're terms really. Any word that translates into 'more people listing to me' turns me on. Big time.

Goodnight Sweet Feline

2008-10-21T19:25:00.003-04:00

The Ennis family bid farewell to its beloved, four-legged member, Dixie, today. Methinks she deserves a proper obit. Anyone who's ever said goodbye to a pet will understand the sentiment. Sure, it's sappy, but I'm Irish Catholic and single, so humor me. For anyone who hasn't experienced the pleasure and joys of being a pet owner, or the PETA-friendly term "pet parent," please consider rescuing or adopting an animal. You'll be the better for it.

DIXIE ENNIS, 17 years-old, a 'ghetto kitty' adopted from the ASPCA, named after Bette Middler's character in For The Boys, was put to sleep today. She was a diva to the very end: entitled and sassy. Few knew of her hidden charms, but were well-acquainted with her foul mood in the company of relative strangers. Thus, only to know her was to love her. The rest, frankly, missed out.

Dixie is survived by her primary care-giver and companion, my Mom, Joan Ennis, a fortunate snow bird, off to Florida for the chilly months. Though Joan will escape the miserable Chicago winter, her sun-filled days may well be brushed by sadness for a while. Perhaps she'll continue to speak out loud to Dix, sharing details of the daily grind as though her furry white and grey ass was still there. And that's more than okay. Dixie's de-facto Daddy, my brother M.J., apt to mourn in solace, should take comfort in his fond memories, especially the way he'd step into a smattering of kitty litter upon exiting the shower.

As for myself, I've got to admit that I'm crushed. I was a teenager when I picked Dixie out of a cage. She was all ears and tail, and I sat her on my forearm and watched as she stretched out and fell immediately asleep. It felt like a familiar routine, one that we'd already practiced, perfect and easy. Dixie, like me, could be a real bitch at times. Yet if I was at home sick or feeling droopy, she'd be the first one to crawl up next to me and chill out. She was warm and silent, just what I needed.

There's something about the unconditional love of an animal. It's reciprocal and pure. All you need to do is put a roof over their head and feed 'em, then they give you everything they've got in return. Do well for them and they will do infinitely well for you.

Miss you, Dixie.

Tonight, Tonight

2008-10-02T19:20:00.001-04:00

It's less than 2 hours until the first televised execution, er, um, I mean the Vice Presidential debate. Get your popcorn ready!

L&O: SVU Premiere

2008-09-23T23:32:00.002-04:00

Please join me in extending my one year old nephew, Sully, a hearty congrats for writing and directing tonight's season premiere episode of Law & Order: SVU. Granted, I haven't confirmed that he was in any way involved with tonight's show but judging by the storyline, dialogue and tone, I'm pretty sure either he or one of his toddler buddies was at the healm. When you speak to him, try not to let on how much it really sucked. I mean, he is just starting out in the biz.

Dear Chicago Bears

2008-09-21T16:48:00.002-04:00

Fuck you guys and your overtime loss. Next time you want to push and shove each other after a play is whistled dead remember that I have unfertilized eggs in my ovaries with more sportsmanship. I hope you all get a serious spanking, not the good kind either. The prison kind where something is likely to get stuck somewhere REALLY uncomfortable. The kind that places your shrink on speed dial. The kind that makes you cover all the mirrors in your house. The kind where you cry in the shower afterward.

I'm In Thalthes

2008-09-19T18:17:00.003-04:00

In a phrase I'll borrow from Bill Maher, New Rule: You cannot expect to have a rewarding career in sales if you have a speech impediment. Specifically a lisp. No one wants to get trapped on the other end of the phone while they're pitched "thome thuper opportunitieth."

I will begin with the obvious: Lispers are difficult to understand. Trying to decipher what they're saying it like the first 5 minutes of 'Trainspotting.' Right off the bat, you're like, "What the fuck language am I hearing? Where are the subtitles?" It sounds kind of familiar, but good luck making it out clearly. Might as well be speaking Farsi. Consider, too, how many words contain the letter 'S.' By the time a lisper has uttered one sentence, he or she is likely to have T.H.'d--a new verb I just invented--multiple times. For instance, let's break down "for instance." For-in-th-tanth.

Lisps are fucking funny, too. Someone could actually die laughing from listening to a lisper. Theriouthly. A life lost to the giggles, well, that's tho thad. Thruck down by an uncontrollable rethponthe. Once the laughter fades, the lisp effect starts to snowball. What was slightly noticeable in 5 seconds becomes stark ravingly incessant when given an entire minute. The occasional slurred 'S' piles up after a while. Pretty soon it's all you can hear. At that point, I liken it to torture. Thomebody'th gotta thop it or violenth will enthue.

And though this may cement my asshole status for all eternity, I can't trust someone who can't say 'trust.' Think about it: "Trutht me." You've got to be kidding. Now, if I may be excused, I've got some volunteering to do at a speech clinic as penance. Or should I say, "penanthe?"

Last Will, Just In Case

2008-09-12T01:45:00.004-04:00

Against my better instincts, I ended up watching some 9/11 themed programming this year. One of the shows mentioned that more than 80% of the unmarried victims died without wills causing their friends and families additional, albeit unintended, grief. Since I would never want to burden my loved ones (all six of you) in such a manner, let this be my final will and testament.

Belongings: Please fight over my books and music. There isn't much else.

Wealth: I leave all my debt to no one. Whoever I owe money to can eat it.

That should cover it. Peace be with me.

Next Time You Feel Unattractive

2008-08-18T21:46:00.003-04:00

Take a gander at these babes.

My intention is not to be cruel, but rather to empower gals like myself, who's spirits plummet into the dumper when our jeans feel too tight, if we have more than one zit or a bad hair day. Should any of these and other seemingly insurmountable tragedies strike, remember the happy faces of the chicks pictured above, Olympic medalists in women's weightlifting. Imagine telling them whatever's got your panties in a wad. Sing "I Feel Pretty" at the top of your fucking lungs and sack it up. Or they will come to your house and eat you.

Why I Like Women's Beach Volleyball

2008-08-13T01:02:00.000-04:00

The hand signals.

"Olympic Gymnastics Walk In Park," Says Ennis

2008-08-12T01:25:00.003-04:00

I'm sick and tired of watching miniature chicks and dudes somersault a few times in the air while some TV douche bag commentator calls them "magnificent." Whatever. If I trained 8 hours a day 7 days a week since I was 4, ate nothing but carrots, lettuce and kiwi and my government threatened to execute my Mom, I could totally do what they do. Pussies. Like it's some big deal to sacrifice any semblance of a childhood or adolescence for the chance to compete against to the world's most elite athletes. Snooze.

Look at this idiot. I'd rank this still rings skill right up there with algebra and being able to clean a toilet. Try to put it on a resume, pal.

Un-Friend Me!

2008-07-21T16:28:00.002-04:00

I seek the advice of the masses. OK, how about just the counsel of my Mom and whoever else might read this?

Hypothetical situation: I find someone I went to school with on Facebook. I send a friend request which, when approved, grants me access to their profile. Said profile contains loads of useful information, like, how fat this person may/may not have gotten, whether or not they've procreated and their political affiliation, if any. Let's say that this last factoid is alarming, slightly less offensive than baby raping, like not only is this person a Republican, but a proud one. One who wears a t-shirt that falsely proclaims, "Republicans screw better." One who's posted a link on their Facebook page that sends me to a web site where I can get a JOHN MCCAIN LAWN SIGN. What to do? Can one rescind a Facebook friendship? Should I throw myself upon the mercy of other Facebookians and hope that my connection to this Neo-con is viewed with indifference and sympathy, as I might hope a retarded sibling would be?

At this point in my life, the only Republicans that I have to associate with, placate, mmmm suffer gladly, are the ones I'm unfortunately related to, most of whom by marriage. I can't deny DNA! But to allow myself an unmistaken, visible--albeit electronic and all virtual or cyber--association reminds me of the days when I'd still make out with the occasional boy. Ew, gross! And unnecessary.

Why can't this distasteful conservative lifestyle be lived discreetly? Take a lesson from the pre-Stonewall gays and have some shame! I mean, screw better? Are you kidding me? Of course, in all fairness, it would depend on WHO you're screwing. The poor, yes. The disenfranchised, bingo. The environment, hells yeah. Your own grandchildren, indeed. Wait, I just thought about J. Edgar Hoover. OK, you win.

Best Remake Ever: Attack of the Killer Tomatoes

2008-06-10T17:16:00.003-04:00

Oh, for a muse of mother nature that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention! I've been struck by a brilliant idea. Since the source of a recent salmonella outbreak has been linked to certain tomato varieties, I believe it's time for a remake of the cult classic, "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes." This time the tomatoes aren't super-sized gargantuan villains but just regular old tomatoes, yet killers nonetheless. These tomatoes don't even hunt to kill. They just get put on a sandwich or in a sauce and the carnage ensues.

Imagine a horror movie who's most gruesome scenes take place in bathrooms? Although, from what I understand, salmonella manifests instantly, without warning. So the unsuspecting, tomato eating victim in the car on a Nevada two lane highway in sweltering midday sunshine is as out of luck as the Scotsman in the nastiest bathroom on earth (an homage to Trainspotting's incredible toilet oddessey) who thinks he's just experiencing heroin withdrawal. Au contraire my pale, strung-out junkie friend. Remember that all that tomato soup you lived on during your self imposed detoxification? Turns out it was made from tomatoes more dangerous than smack.

I've already scripted a scene where Jamie Lee Curtis eats a six pack of Activia's new V-8 yogurt. Her digestion goes from regular to super premium.

High Society on the Mag Mile

2008-05-27T20:36:00.003-04:00

I'm sitting in the Starbuck's on Division/Dearborn in Chicago and they're playing "I Love You, Samantha" from 'High Society.' Ah, a latte and a little Cole Porter. It's lovely. How lame does that make me? And do I really care? Super lame and no, I don't.

It's 47 degrees here. I saw people wearing gloves on Michigan Avenue! Pussies. I chose to put my hands in my pockets like a real man. Well, actually, like a real lesbian. For years I have observed that approximately 9 in 10 lesbians always have their hands in their pockets. Trust me. Take it to the stereotype bank.

The Shan's new life officially begins this Sunday as I am move into my apartment. For the first time since Feb., I will have a permanent mailing address and a bed of my own. So long, Oak Lawn! Onward and upward.

PART II

Hours later at Starbucks on Clark/Belmont (hey, I paid $10 for one day of internet access, I'm getting my money's worth) and I am surrounded by a group of about 10 big, black drag queens. I wonder if I could teach them to sing, "I Love You, Samantha."

I'm the Real Shady

2008-05-23T23:49:00.004-04:00

There's a new Girls Gone Wild video installment called Finally 18. It's purchased by guys who don't object to the free bonus video, Pssst...Still 17. My inner feminist finds these spanker vids deplorable, filthy and wrong. And my inner lesbian agrees, until she begins to powerfully desire a sneak peek. It's at that point I'm forced to confront the fact that I'd watch the bonus video. On a loop. In public. Against my will.

Pity the Shan

2008-04-26T00:28:00.002-04:00

www.chessinconcert.com

I seem to be begging again. Whoops! Idina Menzel is stepping into the role of Florence for 2 nights only! PLEASE dear God or anyone capable of scoring me plane tix & concert tix, come to my rescue. Chess is my favorite musical, and since I'm a total theater fag, that's saying a lot. I know my musicals and I've chosen CHESS as my numero uno. But I digress. Someone get me some fucking seats for this show! Uh, I mean please?

Our House of the Undead

2008-03-31T16:48:00.004-04:00

How in the hell is Wilford Brimley NOT dead? Usually I'm pretty "up" on these things but he just offered to help me manage my diabetes. "No way are the airing this TVC posthumously," said I to myself. So I Wickipedia'd and lo and behold, Wilfred's taken a licking and keeps on ticking. For a moment there, it was all very Scrooge. Being visited upon a grisly old man who, to the best of my knowledge, had left this earthly realm. Frankly, I'm still kinda scared of him from THE FIRM. That's right. I'm afraid of Wilford Brimley. What are you gonna do about it?

Elephants should really consider using lotion. Theirs is the ashy-est skin I've ever seen. Just thinking out loud.

You'll Never See Me Again

2008-03-26T18:05:00.003-04:00

I'm imbedded at my brother's house because he's got a huge flat screen TV. I'm mainlining Angie Harmon era Law & Order episodes in HDTV. Ah, my kryptonite! Angie is life-size and I can see her pores. I can almost touch her silky black hair. If there wasn't a screen keeping us apart, she'd could smell my panting "I'm ready to devour you" LISTERINE treated breath. I'm fulfilled, catatonic and sated. My reason for living has been made stunningly clear. Thanks for showing me the sign I've always prayed for,God. In digital no less!

Actually I've been really productive lately and have much to report. But I can't right now. Angie's threatening a perp.

Huge Tuesday Bodes Well for Miserable Wednesday, But Not For Me

2008-02-05T17:37:00.001-05:00

With Super Tuesday and Fat Tuesday falling on the very same day, the Force is with politicos who enjoy consuming mass amounts of liquor and food. It's Nirvana. Voting delights you AND you have serious issues that, on any other day, are discouraged. Wow. You lucky SOB. Hope you don't have a heart-attack b/c of all the excitement. That would totally ruin your very own Nirvana. Fortunately the rest of us can have one without the other. Plenty of excitement to go around. But, as my mother says, don't go getting gay. (She means moderation not catching homosexuality.) Take it easy and you'll escape consequences. But getting gay is gonna get you hungover.

Tomorrow will bring 2 distinct hangovers:

Courtesy of the Fat Tuesday excess! Hey fat alcoholics! Listen up. Your body is pissed. That headache, that diareha, the dark circles around each eye your prooves your body isn't just pissed. She's also a mean bitch. Too much booze and rich food, most of which is all Southern and gumbo-y, good luck in the corporate bathroom! Ask HR to install seatbelts if necessary. Turbulence isn't pretty. Safety before pride.
Sleep deprived cranky nerds who stayed up all night to watch returns. Be nice. We're good people who need to care about local politics, too. Listen up morning show bitches: you don't count. If you're cranky there's no excuse. Meredith, Matt, Al and Ann, you too Gibson. I see your eye roll Diane and I know who's spoiled. Oh, almost forgot the ABC black lady who's got breast cancer. You get a pass on this one. The rest of you had better smile like you mean it. So a couple times a year you have to be up so you can be prepared for your pretty easy job. Sack it up. News personailities are also exempt. I mean you Russert. You're gonna have to give a quickie on the TODAY show. Secretly you get off on this shit and there's a LIVE TV danger about it. So what if you make some off-collar remark about Meredith's sandpaper looking ghoul face? You're just punchy. Dead on and punchy.

Super Tuesday really does for me. I do love me primary! Aw yeah. 22 states are voting tonight, hence Super Tuesday. James Carville and Mary Matalin are married b/c of nights like tonight. If you can't beat 'em, fuck 'em. Kidding. Strictly along party lines Republicans and Democrats alike can enjoy this evening. They're both gonna have winners. It may not be the exact candidate that they prefer, but it's still cause for hotness. Therefore I'll bet my student loan debt that those opposed theorists are getting it on this evening. Primary election night gets Carville hard. (I should but that on a t-shirt.) Sadly I am marking the evening solo in Oak Lawn, IL. Unsexy in anyone else's eyes, semi-hot in mine. I've got the necessities. Cable and survival food b/c I ain't sleeping til it's over. No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn! - sorry I mean 'Til They Call It! 2 liters of Coke Zero (calorie-free caffine), some frozen lasagna with meatsauce (Stouffer's b/c I am no peasant) and candy (sugar, oral fixation). Word.

Churchill's Pissed. I'm Just Very Surprised.

2008-02-03T23:48:00.000-05:00

HEADLINE TODAY:

Quarter of Brits think Churchill was myth: poll

Sun Feb 3, 7:12 PM ET LONDON (AFP) - Britons are losing their grip on reality, according to a poll out Monday which showed that nearly a quarter think Winston Churchill was a myth while the majority reckon Sherlock Holmes was real.

The survey found that 47 percent thought the 12th century English king Richard the Lionheart was a myth.

And 23 percent thought World War II prime minister Churchill was made up. The same percentage thought Crimean War nurse Florence Nightingale did not actually exist.

Three percent thought Charles Dickens, one of Britain's most famous writers, is a work of fiction himself.

Indian political leader Mahatma Gandhi and Battle of Waterloo victor the Duke of Wellington also appeared in the top 10 of people thought to be myths.

Meanwhile, 58 percent thought Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's fictional detective Holmes actually existed. Precisely 100 percent of these fucking idiots said that evolution is true.

That last sentence is me. This news relieves me in special, intellectually superior ways. I've been worried that Americans are getting dumb and dumber, that we may be the most daft nation ever. For example we allowed ourselves to be hoodwinked by a mental midget with the initials G.W. yet no one said a word. More citizens will vote for 'American Idol' than for a candidate this Super Tuesday. CBS is the most watched TV network. I rest my case. Well, thankfully misery loves company! Welcome Redcoats!

Brits racked up bazillions of 'probably smart' points for years based on their accent. So, if one's accent has no bearing on intelligence, the reckoning is upon us. Let's hope the brain surgeon from Kentucky, the novelist from Louisiana, the info tech code programmer in Tennessee and the Rhodes scholar in Alabama (OK, that one doesn't exist) can benefit from this latest discovery. Twang away you leftover Confederates, you second generation segregationists, you who DO know the difference between shit and shine-o-la! Let everyone at Oxford & Parliament hear you. "Ye can go forth and suck it!"

One more thing: I am a petty, sad little person. This petty, sad little person thinks it's awesome the Giants won the Superbowl. Why do I delight in the Pats' failure? One name: Tom Brady. Two words: baby daddy. He knocked up Bridget Moynahan and broke up with her while she was pregnant so he could sink it with Giselle Bundchen. I hate him and I hope he has a hard time getting an erection now that he's a loser. 18-1 bitch. Again, sad and petty.

News Headlines That Aren't Headlines

2008-01-30T23:00:00.000-05:00

Today on my Yahoo homepage was the following lead story: Forbes Names Madonna Richest Woman In Music

I immediately rewrote it for myself and anyone else who can read or hear: Forbes Names Madonna Madonna

They Call Me Ms. Tibbs

2008-01-23T16:44:00.001-05:00

"How are you going to make money if you're not going to get 9-5 job in Chicago?"

Stop asking.

I will be teaching English as a second language. First things first, my students will learn the difference between bull shit, horse shit, chicken shit and a pig in shit. How can someone assimilate if they're not familiar with the connotations of farm animals and their relation to poop? Once that's finished I suppose we'll conjugate some verbs, throw in a couple nouns and recite prepositions in sign language. I'm getting a body guard for the day I teach present perfect or past perfect tense. That concept might entice someone to stab a bitch.

Wholly Unrelated to MLK Holiday

2008-01-21T16:56:00.000-05:00

Almost forgot: I will be at Rubyfruit tonight for the "Dykes on Mics" show. 8 pm. Here's the address: 531 Hudson St. (between W. 10th and Charles, NYC) As far as microphones and lesbians go, we're pretty good.

Almost forgot this, too: It's a comedy show. Stand up comedy. Hence "Dykes on Mics"