A Classically Trained Auguste Clown...

Willis found this tweet this morning:

veryimportant We went to the Bulls game yesterday! Rob got punched in the face by a molester clown, but decided not to press charges. Love it live! #fb

Let's back up, shall we?

Dan had his bachelor party in Chicago this past weekend.  One of his friends had the brilliant idea to hire a clown for the day.  At first, it was great.  Dan found someone on Craigslist, basically an unemployed dude who had a costume from Halloween last year.  (I should probably mention that the only offered payment was beer, fatty foods, a ticket to the Bulls game, and the five best pictures of him from the day.  Perhaps the fact that this person was willing to do this for essentially free should've been a tip-off...).

Things started out well enough.

He was funny, and had a noisemaker.  When one guy dropped a keg on his own finger, the clown examined him, as it turns out he was also an EMT.

Then they piled into the limo for the Bulls game.

(Clown car).

New best friends!

Then things started to unravel.

Apparently, shortly after arriving at the game, the clown turned nasty.  After berating several members of the party with glazed over Crazy Drunk Eyes, the clown left the section, stormed into the concourse, and apparently started a fight... that got him thrown into a holding cell.

Clown jail!  Something tells me that at this point, he had turned into a Tramp.

Chitown

Went to Chicago for the Fourth. Did the usual Bean Visit:




Followed by the usual Dan and Meghan Summer Vacation Feeding Frenzy, aided by the Taste of Chicago.





Italian beef sandwiches! Deep dish! Ribs! Cheesecake and corn on sticks! We even got this rare shot of Melanie, eating something greasy:


Then we barbecue-hopped, ending up somewhere in Wrigleyville taking shots out of egg cups.


Good times.

Chicaaaaaago Part Deux

Ah Chicago is so nice. It has some seriously weird fountains.




I love weird fountains! Particularly this one, in Millenium Park. Children gather by the creepy two-story pictures, waiting for the visage to spit. The water is just thin enough over the ground for the children to look en masse like Jesus, just skimming over the surface as they run. Gregor and I made our way across it in bare feet, only to be accosted with splashing by a girl, fully clothed and soaked to the bone, and loving it.

Ah, but the Windy City has more than fountains, my friends. Witness the Art Institute, with its giant collection of contemporary art. I usually love it, but perhaps I wasn't in the mood today.






That last one? A Constantin Brancusi. I personally hate Brancusi and consider his work the type of thing a Hollywood set dresser would put in the faux apartment of a deadbeat cheating-fiance type character to telegraph douchebaggery, particularly if the film is set between 1979-87, but the Art Institute seems to love him.

The sculpture's called "The White Negress," btw.

And tomorrow, to home. Home again home again jiggity-jig.