Facebook is my new Floyd's

A couple months ago, at the urging of an Irish friend of mine, I joined Facebook. I resisted because I associated the social networking site with Internet and PDA addicted teens, those masters of the text message who communicate banalities in abbreviated code while bowling or driving daddy’s SUV. Which is a crusty way of saying I felt too old.
But my friend can be persistent and kept teling me about how wonderful it was to share photos with family across the ocean and to make new buddies and to know just by looking at your computer what somebody you met once in Pittsburgh was having for breakfast.
Sure, it sounded like a the Kathy and Judy Show on WGN - or a perky cult. But it was Christmas, and I was feeling lonely and ripe for joining one.
Much to my astonishment I took to Facebook, well much like Patty Hearst did to the Symbionese Liberation Army (Google it).
In less than two months I have made myself more than 130 online pals. They include artists and media personalities in Chicago, college kids, a bar owner, an engineer in New Orleans, family in South Bend and the West Coast, musicians in Ireland,a TV anchor in Kansas City, and even a guy with the same name as mine who is a rapper in Milwaukee. Word.
I also joined a Facebook group, "I Survived Carpentersville," which was created by Holly Poole, 24. Poole grew up in the Ville, was living with her folks in Alabama for a couple years and moved back to town last summer. She works at a Caribou Coffee in Elgin.
"I joined Facebook just to reconnect with old friends, but I made the group kind of as a joke. Everyone from Carpentersville has a funny story about something crazy happening in the Ville. It's fun to talk about places we used to go and the things we used to there. Originally I invited literally like 5 or 10 people in the group, but I had no idea so many people would end up joining... I know it sounds silly, but you meet someone and you find out that they've lived in Carpentersville, it's almost like you have an instant respect for them," she said.
So far 345 people have joined Poole's group, with about two dozen posting on topics that include name checking the section of the town where you lived, the first time you did _____ it happened in the Ville, and things that used to be in town.
I added to the latter, that Jamba Juice, Kung Fu Panda Express and Believe in Something Cellular used to be Floyd’s.
“Ah, Floyd’s. What a great place to meet up with friends. I liked the steaks and libations, the famous Floyd’s cheese spread,” said former village president Mark Boettger, who, unless he is using an alias he’s not telling me about, is not on Facebook.
“Thursday nights, I think was open mic with Bruce Waters and his musician friends who would stop in and jam. That was always fun. The characters you would see coming in were always interesting. And it was just like being with family when you walked into the lounge,” he added.
Floyd's closed in 2005. Brian Jason, whose dad, Vic, owned the place, now runs the Walleye Grill in Huntley, The Barn in Barrington and the recently opened Barley House in Algonquin Commons. While visiting Jason's new spot I ran an idea by him: Facebook is the new Floyd’s, but without the calories or the Harvey Wallbangers (Google it).
Jason laughed, but sort of saw my point.
Of course, for Floyd's, at least most of the time you had to be wearing pants. On Facebook, you can be in bed in your undies while you small talk online with your pals all over the planet. And you can have your friends with you all the time if you have Facebook on your phone.
It's an electronic security blanket in a lonely world. And your community is no longer defined by geography - which is cool and long as you venture out to a real Floyd's of your own every now and then.
Otherwise, you're just another dork with a bag of Cheetos.

More Monkey Business

Dancing on a bartop with waitresses makes you realize how we, as a culture, objectify women, how it's all about the booty and the booze.

Eh. Save that for the Lifetime Network.

If the place is the Bad Monkey in Algonquin, what you learn from the vantage point on the bar is that the suburbs are becoming a bit more tolerant about who sleeps with whom, a bit more live and let live about lifestyles - at least if karaoke and letting loose are involved.

With the help of the talented Linda Perillo, who is way better at moving to the grooving than this old school white boy, you learn the bar tender makes sure the path is relatively clear of drinks and spills and that the the surface isn't as tricky to navigate as you might think.

If you're pouring shots into open mouths of willing, baby-bird like imbibers, you find out somebody better hold still or they could chip a tooth or get liquor on their shirt. And while most people appear non-plussed by a middle-aged guy shaking his money maker, some are genuinely baffled, and men, well men, at least in the suburbs, aren't gonna take a shot from a dude, even if this is the most sexually mixed bar in the northwest suburbs.

Hell, a swingers group even hangs out there one night a week. Yup, Benny Goodman fans, and Sinatra wannabes singing karaoke.

Club founder "Mike" (no, not this one) said he and his pals used to meet at a steak joint in Elgin, The Prairie Rock. But moving to the Bad Monkey has tripled the membership. But, though a couple members are prone to singing off color karaoke versions of I Got You Babe and Summer Lovin' the swingers are just blend in with the crowd on other nights.

"The area needed a comfortable place for people to go, and this is a diverse place for people to have a good time," said one of two women named Wendy who own the place.

Both Wendys are bikers, have been friends for 20 years, and have operated other bars in the far northwest suburbs. The name just came to them while brainstorming, they said, and they opened their doors last May.

They say it's been busy from the get-go, drawing from the nearby subdivisions, but with word of mouth, folks from as far away as Chicago and Montgomery stopping by for a drink, some eats or to belt out a tune.

One of the latteris Curt Send of Carpentersville whose been known rock the karaoke with Radiohead or Cheap Trick.

"This is just down the street for me, and there are a lot of cool people here," said Send.

The oddest song Send said he's heard at the Bad Monkey: Rock Lobster, as performed by "Dan the Man." Dan's the local equivalent of Jack from Will and Grace. His take on It's Raining Men - performed while dressed like an elf and with special lyrics, "It's raining lesbians, in Algonquin, hallelujah!" - was a holiday time highlight.

The karaoke is handled by Big DJ Mikey who says that in the seven years he's been serving up tunes, the Monkey is the the friendliest place.

"There's no comparison. No matter who you are they like you and make you feel welcome," said Mike.

Hey, they had me sold, when a cougar, excited by the women dancing on the bar to Eminem's "Shake the Ass" strated grinding against me, rubbed my shaved head, turned me around and planted a big, wet kiss on me.

Fifteen-year Algonquin resident Peggy Smith, who lives just down the block, agrees.

"It's doesn't matter if you're straight or gay here. Nobody cares...Times are changing, and it's so cool how they are changing and they can all mix," said Smith.

Those blurred divisions aren't just about if you like girls or boys. You get bikers, yuppie couples, country fans, people who sing like cookie monster, and at least one time a nicely dressed Japanese woman, partial to light rock, who favors crooning light rock while her husband stands faithfully five feet away for moral support.

And name one other place where, on the same night, you can hear somebody cover a 10-minute Metallica number. Or, as bar manager Amy Meyer noted, a 75-year-old woman who is partial to "Under the Boardwalk."

The bar's typical karaoke contest is even egalitarian: everybody who sings on certain nights has their name put in a drawing, and the winner gets $50. It will be part of an actual talent contest, too.

And, like any good bar, the Bad Monkey has hosted and will be hosting fundraisers. One is coming up for a local girl battling cancer.

I"m happy the way things have turned out here. I think this is they way it should be in a bar. And I hope it helps get people off their stereotypes," said one of the Wendys.

"This place is like your favorite pair of jeans," said the other.

Me, I got a special dance out of the deal, further making, not a monkey, but a happy ass out of myself. And there are supposed to be picture on the way.