DON'T invite this guy to your party

His name is Richard Steve Goldberg, and, fyi, he's totes a child molester. Google that shit if you don't believe me.

Quiz: Are You a True Chicagoan?

You may claim to be Chicagoans, but are you really a Chicagoan at heart? Take our quiz and find out!

1. Are you from an area with a zip code between 60606 and 60648? (Y/N)

2. Fill in the blank: The ____ Cubs. The ____ Bears. The _____ Blackhawks. The ______ White Sox. Is the answer the city that you live in? (Y/N)

3. Is your house or apartment somewhere in between Evanston, Lake Michigan, Oak Park, and 135th Street? (Y/N)

4. Ever heard of the Windy City; is that your home? (Y/N)

Results: If you answered yes to any of these questions, congratulations, you are a true Chicagoan!

I am not afraid of adults with braces

I don’t consider myself to be a scaredy cat per se, but there are plenty of things that frighten me. Heights. Salmonella. Bulimics. Driving in icy conditions. Taking a big swig of milk only to find out it’s gone bad. My kids being born retarded. Impotence. The End of Days. Paralysis. And of course, True Love.

You’re probably thinking to yourself, “hey gil, steveness is kind of a pussy. He is afraid of everything.” Not so fast, wise guy. I am not afraid of plenty of things. Couches. Barnes and Noble. My mom. Men who wear hats. Cell phones. Stamps. Diet Coke. (Steve, are you just looking around the room and seeing things and saying you’re not afraid of them? I’m not afraid of Diet Coke! Or lamp!)

One subset of people I am most definitely not afraid of is adults with braces. I really think I could beat up most adult guys who wear braces and I’d have to think most adult women with braces would love to be talked to by any non-braced individual, so they don’t intimidate me either.

Before I get 1,000 emails from the adult braces apologists out there, I’d like to stress the point that I am not anti-adult braces. For those of you adults out there who choose to metalify your mouths, I respect your determination to improve yourself in the face of public ridicule. Just know that when you do take that step, I won’t be afraid of you any more. Chances are, if I see you walking down the street toward me, I’ll just tip my hat, say my hello, and think to myself, “I could probably kick that guy’s ass” or if you’re a woman, I might get past my feelings of inadequacy and let myself think I could get to third base by the 4th date. Not that I’d want to of course. Owwwwwwwww!

As it turns out, a chupacabra is not living in my garage.

For several days, I've been spooked. Whenever I go into my garage, I swear I hear things. Sounds from under my car; a rustling in that pile of junk I've been meaning to sort through; sometimes I even think I can hear heavy breathing. I was certain a chupacabra was living in my garage. But why?

I don't own any pets, nor do I live near a goat farm. I don't even have anytime remotely edible in my garage. So, what would a chupacabra want with me? Then I started to REALLY worry. I mean, when a blood sucking creature has some sort of bone to pick with you, that can be intimidating. Maybe I insulted this particular chupacabra's mother without knowing it? Maybe he's been sent to collect on some old gambling debts of mine? I just don't know. And that's the scary part.

Then today, I was relieved to learn, a chupacabra is not living in my garage. Don't ask me how I know...I just know.