Adam Daniel Miller, contributing blogger
Adam Daniel Miller is a self-proclaimed writer and comedian of sorts having performed professionally for six months once. He has also written a multitude of short stories, 10-minute/one-act plays, two full-length plays and many various other bits of writing. He is a graduate of the University of Iowa where he managed to obtain a degree in English with a specialization in Creative Writing as well as a Theater minor. Both of which he does very little with but capitalized to make it look impressive. He has a true passion for the English language in all of its complexities and absolutely adores alliteration above all. His favorite book is the thesaurus or as he calls it "synonym for thesaurus." Miller has a true passion for humor and uses it on a fairly regular basis. Although, he has been known to deviate and be serious once in a while too.
If you so desire, you can follow Adam Daniel Miller on Twitter @TheMindofADM or read more blog posts on rantgaming.com.
ARTICLES BY THIS AUTHOR
In honor of the 29th of February, I decided to not have a very ordinary day. I chose to have a day that might happen only once every 4 years. At least in my life anyway. A day in which I tried to do something that started with every letter of the alphabet. Following is a list of my activities that took place throughout the day.
I recently learned that there are more divorces today then tattoo removals. I'm assuming that’s a fact. And while both are supposed to be permanent, the tattoo ironically seems to be the one that sticks around till death do you part. Well, let's just say till death.
I am probably going to die of a heart attack. Or not. I don’t know. I’ll probably have to wait until to find out. Most likely, my hypochondria is going to be the end of me. It may even cause that heart attack. I let my hypochondria run rampant so much that any time I feel anything out of the ordinary, I think “Hmmm, how’s this going to kill me?”
When I was 13, I knew nothing. In fact, when it was 13 minutes ago I knew nothing. Even more in fact, when I started writing this sentence, I had no idea how it would triangle fish button. See? Knew nothing. The point is that when it came to my own bar mitzvah, I wasn’t aware enough to appreciate it for what it was.
Chanuka, Chanukah, Chanukkah, Hanukah, Hannukah and my personal favorite, Cha-noo-kah. The list goes on and on but I only have so much time here. As you can see, there is not as much care put into the spelling of this holiday because, contrary to popular belief, this holiday is not nearly as important as a multitude of others.
I submitted this blog at the last second. Really. I did. Do you have any idea how long this took me to write? Months. Months would be a lie. Weeks. Weeks would also be a lie. But days…days would be accurate. I’m already procrastinating on getting to the point so let’s just get there, shall we?
That’s a bad title. I’m sorry. I mean, I apologize. I mean…I have to stop that. I say something along these lines more than I rightfully should. Maybe it’s the stereotypical Jewish guilt. I don’t know. Sorry I brought it up. Whoops. There I go again. See? My apologizing is getting superfluous.
I am alive to write this thanks to my hypochondria. Remember my hypochondria? Of course you do. I talked about it so much that one time. See my hypochondria led to me successfully realize I had a ticking time bomb in my abdomen. That ticking time bomb was appendicitis and I was going to have to have surgery.
Welcome, welcome, welcome. Yes, welcome to my blog…again! For you see, this is not the first time I have treated my oh so attractive readers with such generosity that is currently happening and is about to follow. I gave you a great six mini blogs for the price of one deal before and feel you deserve the privilege yet again. I'm like a Groupon. Or perhaps, a Jewpon if you will. And oh, I will.
I have never been so shaken so quickly as I was today. When I first saw the story, all I saw were random words, phrases and numbers and they added up to something insane that made me feel some sort of emotion I can’t comprehend right now.
If there’s one thing I do in abundance, it’s make fun of myself. I have to in order to survive. It’s a defense mechanism as well as a way of life for me. Even without being prompted, the self-deprecation I have towards myself is always there, but only because I love who I am. When someone tells me I’m funny, I instinctively say it’s because of the face. It’s always good for at least one laugh.
Okay. I lied. There are no other stories. Yes, I must be the wicked child. Despite my age of 25 (going on 26!), I am still a child. Passover still tends to be one of my favorite Jewish holidays of the year. Believe me, when I’m in my local Jewel Osco, and yes I shop there because it’s JEW-el Osco, I never PASS OVER the chance to check out the kosher section.
Roger Ebert’s passing hit me hard – harder than I would have imagined. The effect was so profound I simply expressed that now all the greatest reviews for movies have been officially written. I always respected Ebert as a writer rivaled by very few and as a voice of honesty.
This year, May 20 was the most significant May 20 I had since the May 20 that was 13 years ago. For you see, on this May 20, it was exactly 13 years since my Bar Mitzvah, or as I have been saying, the Bar Mitzvah of my Bar Mitzvah. I should make that the title of this post.
It took a lot of convincing for me to write this. Of course that’s what happens when I try motivating myself to motivate myself. But in all honesty, for one reason or another, I’ve been finding myself much more motivated recently, mostly because I stopped looking for myself when I wasn’t motivated.
Mel Brooks is the greatest man I’ve never met. And I’ve not met a lot of people. Almost a few dozen I think. You see, I’ve always loved movies—and comedy. And if there’s one thing Mel Brooks does well, it’s comedy movies. Growing up, I became obsessed with Mel Brooks. To a point that maybe it wasn’t healthy.
I want to tell you a story. One of the best gifts I ever received I never actually got. I was moving out of my parents’ house into the city and my birthday was about six weeks prior. My brother decided he wanted to get me a shower radio for my new apartment. We have always shared one because we shared a bathroom. He told me he was going to get this for me, but he never did. And I didn’t care.
If there’s one thing my mother has taught me, than she wasn’t a very good mother because mothers should teach you more than one thing. Luckily she is a very good mother and I’ve learned a great deal of things. But that’s not the point of this.
Around the beginning of spring every year, or as Chicagoans call it, “three quarters of the way through winter,” lots of us are having fun-filled family functions where searching is the primary activity.
In the wake of the tragic loss of Robin Williams, I once again turn to writing and humor as a way to find solace. So thank you for humoring me as I attempt to humor you. I was originally going to write about something more light-hearted. Like how right now I have to be scared of Ebola again. But that’s not happening anymore. Well, the Ebola thing is actually still happening, I’m just not writing about it.
On September 27, 2014, I turn 10,000 days old. That’s a lot of days of Adam. Lucky you, you didn’t have to spend all of them with me.
Every year on the High Holidays, we think about what we can do to be better people in the year ahead. Well, change is like, hard, especially the self-improvement kind. So, we thought maybe it’s a bit more realistic to ask ourselves “how can I be less of a terrible person?”
As I grow a little bit older, a little bit wiser and unfortunately a little bit wider, I‘ve learned something about my friendships. I haven’t always done great with them. And more often than not, it’s my fault.
Let’s talk about Bozo. Just to clarify, I’m referring to the clown. So what is The Bozo Theory you ask? A very good question since the title really gives no good context clues other than Bozo is involved in some way.
Everyone has their own routines when going to the movies. What time they get there, what concessions they get or where they sit. For me, it’s 12-15 minutes before, I never concede and preferably in a seat. But one thing I always do every time I go to the movies – as you may have guessed from the title of this piece, you astute, attractive reader you – is that I will, without question, stay through the entirety of the film’s credits.
For the woman I love, I jumped out of a plane at 14,000 feet. It's the biggest leap of faith I've ever made. Now I've done some pretty crazy things for love. I've gone camping (on purpose!), I've woken up before 7 a.m. (also on purpose!), and I even once wore a pair of brown loafers (not on purpose!).
I’m terrible at feeding myself. Not literally – when it comes to getting a forkful of food to my mouth, I’m actually over 98 percent accurate. What I mean is, in this life that could be considered adult, when I am tasked to eat a meal by myself, I constantly feel as if I’m failing quite spectacularly at it.
Passover is one of my favorite holidays. My third favorite, in fact. One element I enjoy is the Seder Plate and the items we put on it. In general, we Jews like to use symbols – or in the case of Passover, food – to represent things. It’s why, especially during this holiday, if I walk past a fellow Jew all I have to do is shout, “Represent!” and they know exactly what’s going on.
Do you believe in miracles? Of course you maybe do or don’t! In my 28 years on the third rock from the sun (not the TV show, I mean Earth), I’ve experienced a lot that has truly blown my mind
Well hello there! Welcome to my Oy! post, “Loving the Little Things,” a post that could have also been titled, “Enjoying the Small Stuff” or “Appreciating the Wee Wonders” or “Insert Synonym-Filled Title Here.”
There are many voices in my head. This is mostly because I consider myself somewhat of a voiceover enthusiast, but also because I like to talk to myself.
Come with me, and you will see, my world thrown back into imagination with just one spark. Yes, journey with me on a discovery that was more of a re-discovery. For I want to tell you a tale.
‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, except me, who took every possible moment to tell everyone how long it was until Christmas.
I’m 28 years old, going on 29. Right after that (a year, not immediately), I turn the big 29 plus 1. Quite the milestone -- though if we were in any other country, it would be quite the kilometerstone.
The Godfrey Hotel, 127 W. Huron St.
Thursday, May 12 | 7-10 p.m.
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