mb and i successfully completed the hustle up the hancock this sunday. now that i have had a chance to review the stairwells of some of our city's great buildings, i have to tell n that his aon center's climb and stairwell are superior to the hancock's. for one thing, the hancock center has a metal stairwell instead of the aon's cement, and it echos when, say, nine-year-olds are pounding up the stairs, which makes it very loud. but very easy for the nine-year-old's climbing aunt to find him (just listen for the stampede). so glad i'm spending time reviewing the finer architectural details of chicago...
but what i really would like to applaud is not mb's stellar 14-minute performance, or my own more mediocre performance, but that of my little mp3 player and its remarkable ability on shuffle to pick out the perfect stair-climbing songs for me. how good is this list for a climb benefiting the american lung association?
dj shadow- organ donor
soul coughing- circles (so perfect in a very repetitive walking event)
hooverphonic- lung
beastie boys- body movin'
cibo matto- sci fi wasabi
mc solaar- umm, something in french
basement jaxx- do your thing
and then i reached the top. yes, i had to skip a few things. sufjan stevens, i like you, but casimir pulaski day does not get to accompany me on the stairs. you wrote about a prairie state, for crying out loud.
thank you, little rio carbon. i don't care if your company abandoned you to make room for more upscale electronics. apple can't make such a savant. now, if only you perform like that in st. lucia... (any suggestions on good island music, anyone, besides bob marley and jimmy buffett? 'cause that's a given.)
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Saturday, February 25, 2006
tough act to follow
how can i post after my blogmate's tragic-comic tale of a funeral in new orleans? with the much-awaited blog-nouncement of our upcoming travels. starting on thursday, filterless.blogspot.com becomes an annoyingly self-congratulatory travel-blog about our time on the island of st. lucia. during the previous sucky work months - and you have been reading through many - we have been marking time until the best thing our jobs have afforded us so far, which is an opportunity to volunteer our services in the rural southern part of the island, in exchange for direct access to rum, sunshine, and coconut water that we hear comes in the coconut sold at roadside. it's supposedly an excellent hangover cure. which i could use right about now (another story). and what better way to kick off our travelblog? with a culturally sensitive tale about personal hygiene.
my blogmate and i had a heart-to-heart talk in which we decided that truly, the right thing to do before our departure was not to learn about the culture of the country, but to get bikini waxes. this was a new world for me, and my blogmate's only prior experience left her traumatized enough to consider first a physician's appointment requesting a valium prescription for the event. however, her leaving for the funeral in new orleans and my work schedule didn't allow that kind of time, so we opted for the more low-brow and quickly available option: crystal light and vodka.
for anyone who thinks it's a good idea to work 8 miles south of downtown on an overnight shift, then shower at work and hop in a cab downtown to meet your partner-in-crime in time to slug some 9:30 am cocktails, you might be right... except that my day instead involved not being able to find a cab at any of the three taxi stands near work, finally chasing one down and settling into a surprisingly smooth ride until the exit i needed off lake shore drive was blocked, resulting in much doubling back before dropping me off on the wrong street, finally bursting into the salon 15 minutes late. the calm and accommodating staff reassured me that i would still be able to find someone to inflict the desired pain and humility, and ushered me into a waiting room. frazzled, tired, anxious, and loaded down with bags of work books and clothes, i stepped through frosted glass doors... into a surreal world filled with women in cream terry robes and little slippers, hair in pink towels, all calmly sipping cucumber water and each raising one single perfectly shaped eyebrow at my dissheveled and rather disruptive entrance (i think they were trying to look disdainful but were too calm to pull it off) before going back to their magazines.
fear not- a lovely sixty-year-old woman with soothing accent came to fetch me for my appointment: but where was my blogmate? and WHERE was the vodka? this wasn't what i'd expected. the rest of the event details i will breeze over except to say that when you are lying half-dressed on a table while a russian woman stirs hot wax and tells you you're beautiful but that your eyebrows are a little crooked, you can be convinced to buy just about anything she suggests.
waxing over, sober, and sobered, i headed back to the waiting room to find my blogmate sitting with a half-full nalgene bottle. wordlessly, i stuck my hand out for the bottle and promptly downed a pint of breakfast booze before wishing her good morning.
st. lucia, here we come.
my blogmate and i had a heart-to-heart talk in which we decided that truly, the right thing to do before our departure was not to learn about the culture of the country, but to get bikini waxes. this was a new world for me, and my blogmate's only prior experience left her traumatized enough to consider first a physician's appointment requesting a valium prescription for the event. however, her leaving for the funeral in new orleans and my work schedule didn't allow that kind of time, so we opted for the more low-brow and quickly available option: crystal light and vodka.
for anyone who thinks it's a good idea to work 8 miles south of downtown on an overnight shift, then shower at work and hop in a cab downtown to meet your partner-in-crime in time to slug some 9:30 am cocktails, you might be right... except that my day instead involved not being able to find a cab at any of the three taxi stands near work, finally chasing one down and settling into a surprisingly smooth ride until the exit i needed off lake shore drive was blocked, resulting in much doubling back before dropping me off on the wrong street, finally bursting into the salon 15 minutes late. the calm and accommodating staff reassured me that i would still be able to find someone to inflict the desired pain and humility, and ushered me into a waiting room. frazzled, tired, anxious, and loaded down with bags of work books and clothes, i stepped through frosted glass doors... into a surreal world filled with women in cream terry robes and little slippers, hair in pink towels, all calmly sipping cucumber water and each raising one single perfectly shaped eyebrow at my dissheveled and rather disruptive entrance (i think they were trying to look disdainful but were too calm to pull it off) before going back to their magazines.
fear not- a lovely sixty-year-old woman with soothing accent came to fetch me for my appointment: but where was my blogmate? and WHERE was the vodka? this wasn't what i'd expected. the rest of the event details i will breeze over except to say that when you are lying half-dressed on a table while a russian woman stirs hot wax and tells you you're beautiful but that your eyebrows are a little crooked, you can be convinced to buy just about anything she suggests.
waxing over, sober, and sobered, i headed back to the waiting room to find my blogmate sitting with a half-full nalgene bottle. wordlessly, i stuck my hand out for the bottle and promptly downed a pint of breakfast booze before wishing her good morning.
st. lucia, here we come.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
the bottom of the barrel
you'd think i'd have better sense.
i mean really, it was three days in desolate, destroyed new orleans for my grandmother's funeral. you'd think i'd leave it alone and not try to extract blog material.
but really, when the rabbi flips open his cell phone to check his messages during "silent prayer" how can you not tell EVERYONE?
i'd be more irritated with the rabbi for this irreverent act if this tiny gesture of disrespect wasn't so completely eclipsed by:
1) my running out in the middle of evening service to go throw up (in my defense, not alcohol related)- i'm told you get no style points for vomiting on religious leaders
2) multiple grown-ups rolling their eyes, sniggering, and whispering at each other during evening service- for heaven's sakes people, just look at your feet!
3) cousin blowing off funeral due to hangover (but having the chutzpah to show up at the after-party)
and it didn't stop there. there was the CNN crew at the funeral, for reasons that remain unclear. there was the guy on the riding lawn mower in the cemetery next door, who when politely told that he was drowning out the eulogy switched over to the leaf blower instead (especially when you think about the absurdity of leaf-blowing under the hurricane ravaged circumstances).
griping aside, i really do enjoy my family.
there was my ever-trendy mom, who for once didn't quite have her finger on the pulse: "do you have the green day cd? they sound like REM, right?"
my father, whose blind faith in my abilities led to bitter disappointment, as he tried in vain, over and over, to get me to play piano duets with him, unwilling to believe that i could no longer read music, play the piano, or keep up. he seemed so shocked that it sounded so bad.
and for those of us who have made an art-form out of confabulating excuses to break up with people, there was my brother, who told me that he didn't ask a girl on a second date because, "she wasn't sure who rosa parks was."
the ranting may be tacky, but it sure feels good.
i mean really, it was three days in desolate, destroyed new orleans for my grandmother's funeral. you'd think i'd leave it alone and not try to extract blog material.
but really, when the rabbi flips open his cell phone to check his messages during "silent prayer" how can you not tell EVERYONE?
i'd be more irritated with the rabbi for this irreverent act if this tiny gesture of disrespect wasn't so completely eclipsed by:
1) my running out in the middle of evening service to go throw up (in my defense, not alcohol related)- i'm told you get no style points for vomiting on religious leaders
2) multiple grown-ups rolling their eyes, sniggering, and whispering at each other during evening service- for heaven's sakes people, just look at your feet!
3) cousin blowing off funeral due to hangover (but having the chutzpah to show up at the after-party)
and it didn't stop there. there was the CNN crew at the funeral, for reasons that remain unclear. there was the guy on the riding lawn mower in the cemetery next door, who when politely told that he was drowning out the eulogy switched over to the leaf blower instead (especially when you think about the absurdity of leaf-blowing under the hurricane ravaged circumstances).
griping aside, i really do enjoy my family.
there was my ever-trendy mom, who for once didn't quite have her finger on the pulse: "do you have the green day cd? they sound like REM, right?"
my father, whose blind faith in my abilities led to bitter disappointment, as he tried in vain, over and over, to get me to play piano duets with him, unwilling to believe that i could no longer read music, play the piano, or keep up. he seemed so shocked that it sounded so bad.
and for those of us who have made an art-form out of confabulating excuses to break up with people, there was my brother, who told me that he didn't ask a girl on a second date because, "she wasn't sure who rosa parks was."
the ranting may be tacky, but it sure feels good.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
olympic fever
i can't help it- i just love the 0lympics... maybe to the point of dysfunction.
last saturday i called my good friend ck to join me for an afternoon of beer, olympics, and french fries at my now favorite saturday afternoon hangout: the village tap on roscoe. so while i do love beer, olympics, and french fries, i also love the regular saturday afternoon bartender at the village tap- hence the new favorite hangout. maybe in the end the lesson was that can have too much of a good thing, or at least over-combine good things such that you get all confused and can't direct your affections appropriately. so rather than engaging hot bartender with my cute and charming banter i just blurted out "why aren't the olympics on?" i'd like to think that the prompt channel changing was a good sign, but i'm sure he was thinking something like, "how can i get this girl away from me?"
now that i think about it my blogmate is perfectly within her rights for mocking me.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
i am a financial giant.
in honor of tax season, here's a brief review of my most awesome financial strategy for 2006:
good financial idea: put money aside for retirement.
bad financial idea: vaguely intend to put money into mutual fund without actually understanding what a mutual fund is.
good financial idea: stop previous strategy of putting cash into safety deposit box in case of millenium or computer hackers a la certain movie with soundtrack that mb likes very much.
bad financial idea: continually forget to cash checks from insurance company despite their ongoing reminder letters.
good financial idea: decide to e-file taxes early so i can get my refund quickly.
bad financial idea: decide to use h&r block's long form online helper for $45 instead of the easy form helper for $5, resulting in more headaches and questions i didn't understand than i had when i did my taxes without any helper.
good financial idea: move money from savings account into retirement fund that involves some combination of indexes and bonds and things.
bad financial idea: try to move said money using the assistance of anyone at citibank on the south side of chicago, because that involves being shuttled from teller to semi-fancy desk bank person to somewhat fancier office desk bank person before being told that i need to make an appointment with some special person whose only office is in a citibank branch under a highway on-ramp populated by middle aged men trying to sell socks at red lights.
good financial idea: ignore advice of south side citibank and go to downtown citibank, where not only do the desk and office bank people not need to be involved, but the greeter bank person in the front by the atms goes and gets a little green stamper to fill out my forms. a premade stamp - no desks or appointments or road socks required.
bad financial idea: decide that since i am downtown anyway, the right thing to do since i have spent this time and bus fare is to go shoe shopping.
good financial idea: exercise restraint with shoe shopping, only making a bee-line for the shoes i saw on sale while in minneapolis this weekend, and walking away when told the sale shoes were sold out.
bad financial idea: on walking away, promptly fall in love with new, more expensive shoes on the table next door, and decide i must have them.
good financial idea: find out at the cash register that the new shoes are actually $20 less than listed, so it was like buying sale shoes even if i would have been willing to pay full price.
...and so, you can clearly see that since all of my financial moves balanced each other out until the shoes were conveniently on sale. now i am net one move ahead; therefore, i am a financial genius. i can only imagine suze orman is on her way to my apartment now dying to admire my stylish new kenneth coles and ask how do i do it.
good financial idea: put money aside for retirement.
bad financial idea: vaguely intend to put money into mutual fund without actually understanding what a mutual fund is.
good financial idea: stop previous strategy of putting cash into safety deposit box in case of millenium or computer hackers a la certain movie with soundtrack that mb likes very much.
bad financial idea: continually forget to cash checks from insurance company despite their ongoing reminder letters.
good financial idea: decide to e-file taxes early so i can get my refund quickly.
bad financial idea: decide to use h&r block's long form online helper for $45 instead of the easy form helper for $5, resulting in more headaches and questions i didn't understand than i had when i did my taxes without any helper.
good financial idea: move money from savings account into retirement fund that involves some combination of indexes and bonds and things.
bad financial idea: try to move said money using the assistance of anyone at citibank on the south side of chicago, because that involves being shuttled from teller to semi-fancy desk bank person to somewhat fancier office desk bank person before being told that i need to make an appointment with some special person whose only office is in a citibank branch under a highway on-ramp populated by middle aged men trying to sell socks at red lights.
good financial idea: ignore advice of south side citibank and go to downtown citibank, where not only do the desk and office bank people not need to be involved, but the greeter bank person in the front by the atms goes and gets a little green stamper to fill out my forms. a premade stamp - no desks or appointments or road socks required.
bad financial idea: decide that since i am downtown anyway, the right thing to do since i have spent this time and bus fare is to go shoe shopping.
good financial idea: exercise restraint with shoe shopping, only making a bee-line for the shoes i saw on sale while in minneapolis this weekend, and walking away when told the sale shoes were sold out.
bad financial idea: on walking away, promptly fall in love with new, more expensive shoes on the table next door, and decide i must have them.
good financial idea: find out at the cash register that the new shoes are actually $20 less than listed, so it was like buying sale shoes even if i would have been willing to pay full price.
...and so, you can clearly see that since all of my financial moves balanced each other out until the shoes were conveniently on sale. now i am net one move ahead; therefore, i am a financial genius. i can only imagine suze orman is on her way to my apartment now dying to admire my stylish new kenneth coles and ask how do i do it.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
leather club chairs and the people who buy them
the more i think about it, the more it seems that none of us are as edgy as we think we are. we make all sorts of lifestyle choices that we think separate us from the crowd, but really we're picking the same things as everyone around us, because, well, those things are better.
my blogmate and i first stumbled onto this postulate a few months ago as we goaded ourselves into a frenzy- i don't think that anyone we know actually said this, but we were annoyed about the theoretical statement "my style is pottery barn," as if that were a reflection of actual taste. we ranted on about brushed nickel kitchen fixtures and the people who buy them- arguably our friends are those people, and we will no doubt become those people given enough time and pay raise. and believe me, it's not that i claim to be above it. after all, i was right there with everyone else ordering gin and tonics like it was my idea... and i'm sure i was at the front of the line to buy the buena vista social club CD.
at the end of the day, i think it's just too much work to veer too far off the beaten path- it takes time and commitment, and a preference for things that can be a little painful to appreciate i.e. elvis costello or sea urchin. nonetheless, i often catch myself trying to paint a cooler version myself, as if it takes aesthetic effort to listen to death cab for cutie.
my blogmate and i first stumbled onto this postulate a few months ago as we goaded ourselves into a frenzy- i don't think that anyone we know actually said this, but we were annoyed about the theoretical statement "my style is pottery barn," as if that were a reflection of actual taste. we ranted on about brushed nickel kitchen fixtures and the people who buy them- arguably our friends are those people, and we will no doubt become those people given enough time and pay raise. and believe me, it's not that i claim to be above it. after all, i was right there with everyone else ordering gin and tonics like it was my idea... and i'm sure i was at the front of the line to buy the buena vista social club CD.
at the end of the day, i think it's just too much work to veer too far off the beaten path- it takes time and commitment, and a preference for things that can be a little painful to appreciate i.e. elvis costello or sea urchin. nonetheless, i often catch myself trying to paint a cooler version myself, as if it takes aesthetic effort to listen to death cab for cutie.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
i believe the children are our future...
...but apparently i never want to care for that future myself.
my good blogmate was kind enough to throw a baby shower last weekend for a coworker and friend of ours. i was initially very excited about this, as it offered me the opportunity to help frost cupcakes (and eat the tasty reject cupcakes). it was great to see everyone, the party was well attended, my blogmate is a good hostess, food good, etc.
however, things have changed in our little group in the few years since i have been in chicago. now many people have babies, all of whom were also in attendance at said shower. i love kids, but felt a little awkward at adult conversation entirely revolving around the proper making of baby food, purchasing of baby carseats, and enforcement of baby naptime. i tried to save face by looking around politely and stuffing my face with food, pretending i couldn't contribute to the conversation because i was engrossed in the artichoke dip. but then i got full, which made me sleepy, which made it even harder to think up baby (or any other) conversation.
i'm not the only single girl attendant at this gathering who felt similarly awkward. as my blogmate put it, "this makes me want to drink. a lot. or do something unwholesome." with that in mind, off i am this weekend for a self-indulgent weekend of shopping and drinking. ironically, my weekend of indulgence will be held in minnesota, home of lutheran church basement potlucks and politely reserved walter mondale fans (visiting butterknife and p-hob). why can't my free time in chicago have such fun gluttony? this isn't a virtuous city: driving home tonight i passed a legion of active salt and plow trucks (there hasn't been snow on the ground in weeks -- you tell me those guys aren't being used as a buy-off).
when i came home from the shower, i told mb i was never having children, if this is what happens to my friends. mb said that wasn't the best time to think about it, which was true... but for now, my plan is to concentrate very hard on my new friends marshall fields and summit brewing.
my good blogmate was kind enough to throw a baby shower last weekend for a coworker and friend of ours. i was initially very excited about this, as it offered me the opportunity to help frost cupcakes (and eat the tasty reject cupcakes). it was great to see everyone, the party was well attended, my blogmate is a good hostess, food good, etc.
however, things have changed in our little group in the few years since i have been in chicago. now many people have babies, all of whom were also in attendance at said shower. i love kids, but felt a little awkward at adult conversation entirely revolving around the proper making of baby food, purchasing of baby carseats, and enforcement of baby naptime. i tried to save face by looking around politely and stuffing my face with food, pretending i couldn't contribute to the conversation because i was engrossed in the artichoke dip. but then i got full, which made me sleepy, which made it even harder to think up baby (or any other) conversation.
i'm not the only single girl attendant at this gathering who felt similarly awkward. as my blogmate put it, "this makes me want to drink. a lot. or do something unwholesome." with that in mind, off i am this weekend for a self-indulgent weekend of shopping and drinking. ironically, my weekend of indulgence will be held in minnesota, home of lutheran church basement potlucks and politely reserved walter mondale fans (visiting butterknife and p-hob). why can't my free time in chicago have such fun gluttony? this isn't a virtuous city: driving home tonight i passed a legion of active salt and plow trucks (there hasn't been snow on the ground in weeks -- you tell me those guys aren't being used as a buy-off).
when i came home from the shower, i told mb i was never having children, if this is what happens to my friends. mb said that wasn't the best time to think about it, which was true... but for now, my plan is to concentrate very hard on my new friends marshall fields and summit brewing.
Monday, February 06, 2006
the new face of fear
a few weeks ago my good friend djm came to visit and left me with the first season of lost on long term loan, thus solidifying his role in my life as tv-watching-guru- it's because of him, after all, that i got sucked into this whole buffy debaucle. he also left behind a giant bag of beef jerky and two tiny coffee pots from vietnam (when you've known people long enough you start to exchange really bizarre, yet highly sentimental gifts).
anyway, all this tv watching is driving home the point that i'm a big fraidy cat. between you and me, i'm often creeped out by the happenings in sunnydale, finding myself peeking out from under my couch blanket (that has started to acquire a funny smell) for fear that the vaguely scary vampires might actually do something bad- with 3 seasons to go you'd think i'd feel confident that none of the major characters are going to die (and that even if they do they'll be brought back to life either by magic or by some lay-persons amazing CPR skills)...
...so you can imagine what happens when i'm watching lost, which is legitimately scary what with big dinosaur thing and that creepy ethan guy. plus, it's a morbid show and i've never seen any of the episodes in real-time, so for all i know the main guys could actually die.
all this is only slightly more hair-raising than the things happening in real life, like the party i threw this weekend where i attempted to spoon feed two small children (with resultant artichoke dip in my hair and humus all over my shirt)- the party ended with everyone sitting around in a circle sharing strategies on how to make baby food. i was so rattled that i then felt obligated to get really drunk while watching the superbowl. and none of it is as scary as my blogmate's stuck in brand new knee high leather boots disaster that i'm not allowed to talk about.
anyway, all this tv watching is driving home the point that i'm a big fraidy cat. between you and me, i'm often creeped out by the happenings in sunnydale, finding myself peeking out from under my couch blanket (that has started to acquire a funny smell) for fear that the vaguely scary vampires might actually do something bad- with 3 seasons to go you'd think i'd feel confident that none of the major characters are going to die (and that even if they do they'll be brought back to life either by magic or by some lay-persons amazing CPR skills)...
...so you can imagine what happens when i'm watching lost, which is legitimately scary what with big dinosaur thing and that creepy ethan guy. plus, it's a morbid show and i've never seen any of the episodes in real-time, so for all i know the main guys could actually die.
all this is only slightly more hair-raising than the things happening in real life, like the party i threw this weekend where i attempted to spoon feed two small children (with resultant artichoke dip in my hair and humus all over my shirt)- the party ended with everyone sitting around in a circle sharing strategies on how to make baby food. i was so rattled that i then felt obligated to get really drunk while watching the superbowl. and none of it is as scary as my blogmate's stuck in brand new knee high leather boots disaster that i'm not allowed to talk about.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
