my apologies to all real baseball fans out there. but last night my blogmate and i scored free tickets along with two co-workers to watch the cubs play the cincinnati reds at wrigley field in what will be the most amazing seats i will ever see in my lifetime: 6th row behind home plate. and how did we celebrate the occasion? old style in plastic cups and the most intelligent baseball discourse i'm sure home plate has ever heard:
"sooo... three strikes and you're out... and then three outs until the next team is up... and then when both teams are done, that's an inning, right?"
"wait, which one's derrek lee?"
"aaawwww.... oh, wait, that was a good thing! yay!"
"hold on; i'm trying to see if derrek lee is cute. i can't see his face..."
"no, it's not his face that's cute..."
"does anyone think it's weird that they all wear white uniforms when they slide in the dirt?"
"does anyone think their uniforms look like pajamas?"
"does anyone know if the uniforms are a shirt and pants or all one piece?"
"hey, you said you didn't care about baseball! you're totally watching."
"how can i tell if it's a ball or a strike?"
"how can i tell who's winning?"
"i'm glad we're behind the net. i'm afraid of fly balls."
"did you know garciaparra is married to mia hamm?"
"girl, i know that part!"
"twinset saw them together at bijam...."
"do you think mia hamm is here?"
"quick! has anyone seen any celebrities? it's my dream to watch baseball next to john cusack."
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Monday, September 12, 2005
all you can tolerate
mb and i spent labor day weekend in the upper peninsula of michigan, enjoying a fun few days of mountain biking, hiking and swimming in a very wavy lake superior. i'm sure i could find something in me about nature or getting away from the city or something, but instead let me focus briefly on one of the best things the northwoods has to offer: the all-you-can-eat buffet.
coming in at number three for funniest all-you-can-eat: friday night fish fry. while quite welcome after twenty miles of biking dirt roads along cliffs, there's something funny about a whole table with nothing but piles of unmarked battered [presumably] fish. i didn't care really what it was after being outside all day, but it's still a little disturbing.
number two goes to the restaurant next door's breakfast buffet, which advertised a selection of hot foods plus a "fruit bar." excellent, we thought. it would be nice to eat something fresh. but "fruit bar" turned out not to hold actual fruit, but four different colors of fruit whip (you know, that cream stuff with colored pieces of some kind?), lemon pudding, and grapes.
but solidly above the pack was the new lunch buffet near my parents' place, which i attended on returning to their house to prepare for my brother's wedding. $5.45 buys you a ticket to a chinese-japanese-mongolian-barbecue-dim-sum-sushi-american-italian smorgasbord. you know you're dining in style when a glittering lite-brite-esque picture of an eagle on a mountain hovers over ham-and-pickle sushi next to 8 options of greasy chicken pieces next to tater tots next to egg rolls in which nobody told the chef you can't substitute sauerkraut for regular cabbage, all topped off with a soft-serve ice cream machine.
mb said it best: the reason we got higher educations and left our small hometowns was so we could come back and look down our noses at them for sport... but we don't really want to lose token-hick-in-the-city status either. so i think we have to employ selective memory (if the first buffet wasn't very good, why did we think the next two would be better?) and a love of the ridiculous. if we keep putting ourselves in all-you-can-eat country, we can enjoy our assumed superiority with statements like "really, mother, you must know about pedicures" and "what do you mean, there's no starbucks or jamba juice for the next 100 miles???" and when we come back to the city we can claim disgust over the unhealthy food we just ate over some butt-firming pseudo-yoga (thanks, blogmate!) before deciding we're better than the yuppie frills of the city and going in search of a city fish fry and cheap beer. good thing we don't mind contradictions.
coming in at number three for funniest all-you-can-eat: friday night fish fry. while quite welcome after twenty miles of biking dirt roads along cliffs, there's something funny about a whole table with nothing but piles of unmarked battered [presumably] fish. i didn't care really what it was after being outside all day, but it's still a little disturbing.
number two goes to the restaurant next door's breakfast buffet, which advertised a selection of hot foods plus a "fruit bar." excellent, we thought. it would be nice to eat something fresh. but "fruit bar" turned out not to hold actual fruit, but four different colors of fruit whip (you know, that cream stuff with colored pieces of some kind?), lemon pudding, and grapes.
but solidly above the pack was the new lunch buffet near my parents' place, which i attended on returning to their house to prepare for my brother's wedding. $5.45 buys you a ticket to a chinese-japanese-mongolian-barbecue-dim-sum-sushi-american-italian smorgasbord. you know you're dining in style when a glittering lite-brite-esque picture of an eagle on a mountain hovers over ham-and-pickle sushi next to 8 options of greasy chicken pieces next to tater tots next to egg rolls in which nobody told the chef you can't substitute sauerkraut for regular cabbage, all topped off with a soft-serve ice cream machine.
mb said it best: the reason we got higher educations and left our small hometowns was so we could come back and look down our noses at them for sport... but we don't really want to lose token-hick-in-the-city status either. so i think we have to employ selective memory (if the first buffet wasn't very good, why did we think the next two would be better?) and a love of the ridiculous. if we keep putting ourselves in all-you-can-eat country, we can enjoy our assumed superiority with statements like "really, mother, you must know about pedicures" and "what do you mean, there's no starbucks or jamba juice for the next 100 miles???" and when we come back to the city we can claim disgust over the unhealthy food we just ate over some butt-firming pseudo-yoga (thanks, blogmate!) before deciding we're better than the yuppie frills of the city and going in search of a city fish fry and cheap beer. good thing we don't mind contradictions.
Friday, September 09, 2005
memories of portia
my college roommate had a hedgehog named portia, who was adorable but angry and dumb, a bad combination. she used to run away from us to the corners of the room, where she promptly got confused under the radiator, rolled up in a little ball, but then was too big to get out from under the radiator. she stayed there one time for hours until she figured out that if she would relax she could escape. kind of a live chinese finger trap, i guess. anyway, in honor of portia, here's a blogpet for us. he even gets stuck in the corner of the screen:
| adopt your own virtual pet! |
Thursday, September 08, 2005
hair of the up-dog
i've allowed the accumulation of an unfortunate amount of blog backlog, so i'm putting a couple of blog projects on hiatus.
one is my thus far unproductive attempt to put some sort of humorous spin on the hurricane aftermath. not there's anything funny about it really, but as a new orleans native i was able to make some fairly amusing observations about my parents as they settled into their newfound refugee status.
yet unblogged is the account of my adventurous, pre-hurricane weekend in atlanta. in and of itself, it was the uneventful visiting of friends, punctuated by the expected amount of drinking and silliness, and the unexpected morning of frantic parent-finding, as we realized that all of our families were in mid-evacuation by the time we dragged our hungover selves out of bed.
more surprsing was my realization that i do so many things with only marginal proficiency. one of my atlanta friends kicked off the weekend by taking me to her saturday morning power yoga class, an experience that turned out to be quite humbling. having only been exposed to butt-firming pseudo-yoga, i was totally unprepared for the pain and misery that accompanies doing actual yoga in a 90 degree room. i think the instructor (guru?) had a hard time keeping a straight face.
that night we moved on to another trendy activity... and i got my ass handed to me once again, this time by salsa dancing. let's be clear that i never pretended to be particularly skilled when it came to yoga or salsa, but i knew enough lingo to have convinced not only my friends, but apparently myself that i could at least fake it for a couple of hours.
i stand corrected.
one is my thus far unproductive attempt to put some sort of humorous spin on the hurricane aftermath. not there's anything funny about it really, but as a new orleans native i was able to make some fairly amusing observations about my parents as they settled into their newfound refugee status.
yet unblogged is the account of my adventurous, pre-hurricane weekend in atlanta. in and of itself, it was the uneventful visiting of friends, punctuated by the expected amount of drinking and silliness, and the unexpected morning of frantic parent-finding, as we realized that all of our families were in mid-evacuation by the time we dragged our hungover selves out of bed.
more surprsing was my realization that i do so many things with only marginal proficiency. one of my atlanta friends kicked off the weekend by taking me to her saturday morning power yoga class, an experience that turned out to be quite humbling. having only been exposed to butt-firming pseudo-yoga, i was totally unprepared for the pain and misery that accompanies doing actual yoga in a 90 degree room. i think the instructor (guru?) had a hard time keeping a straight face.
that night we moved on to another trendy activity... and i got my ass handed to me once again, this time by salsa dancing. let's be clear that i never pretended to be particularly skilled when it came to yoga or salsa, but i knew enough lingo to have convinced not only my friends, but apparently myself that i could at least fake it for a couple of hours.
i stand corrected.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
a small, balding cultural phenomenon?
every girl attracts their own brand of weirdo. for example, dwtacc draws every dark-haired medium-skinned guy with an accent in the chicagoland area, because they all think she's their particular brand of ethnic. i am much less exotic - i am a magnet for vaguely nerdy short men with receding hairlines. not that they're trying to ask me out - they all want to tell me about their dreams for a fancy car.
this started back in college when i drew the short stick at work and had to go to the copy room with the weird guy to make new brochures or something. he kicked things off with a very disturbing beavis-and-butthead cornholio impression (i'd like to see you keep your composure when you've never seen beavis and butthead before and suddenly a small man yanks his shirt above his head and starts screeching about his bunghole), and then, seeing my discomfort, proceeded to convince me of his classiness by telling me all about the money he planned to make, the fancy car he would drive, and the fine home he would own, once he became a rich lawyer. since i was in the middle of a bunch of rural sociology classes run by hippies that taught things like sustainable agriculture and cooperative business practices, this didn't get him very far. later, when i moved to chicago, i was at dinner with a friend when he started, again, telling me about the car he would buy after his promotion. when i didn't look impressed enough, he asked me "wouldn't you rather date someone with a nice car?" i tried to explain that i was uncomfortable with the idea of spending so much money on a luxury item and was much happier taking the bus out for burgers, he just looked confused. more recently, at work one of my co-workers parked himself next to my desk and started telling me how much he hated minivans, and hoped to buy either an suv or little sports car. unprompted, he told me "i feel like someone's car should be sexy and support their lifestyle."
this is becoming a disturbing trend. i'm not surprised that short balding men want compensatory cars, or that any men hope electronics ownership can bring them sex... i just want to know why they all want to tell me about it. it can't be because of my deep appreciation for cars; my own colorful auto history has consisted of a 1979 chevy impala wagon with am radio and no heat, and my current 96 plymouth whose check-engine light warns me regularly that i am about to have unscheduled stops in random places throughout the midwest. it can't be because they want to date me, or i would hope they wouldn't share their whole m.o. can someone help me think of a way to remove the "please, share your thinly veiled desperation" sticker from my forehead?
this started back in college when i drew the short stick at work and had to go to the copy room with the weird guy to make new brochures or something. he kicked things off with a very disturbing beavis-and-butthead cornholio impression (i'd like to see you keep your composure when you've never seen beavis and butthead before and suddenly a small man yanks his shirt above his head and starts screeching about his bunghole), and then, seeing my discomfort, proceeded to convince me of his classiness by telling me all about the money he planned to make, the fancy car he would drive, and the fine home he would own, once he became a rich lawyer. since i was in the middle of a bunch of rural sociology classes run by hippies that taught things like sustainable agriculture and cooperative business practices, this didn't get him very far. later, when i moved to chicago, i was at dinner with a friend when he started, again, telling me about the car he would buy after his promotion. when i didn't look impressed enough, he asked me "wouldn't you rather date someone with a nice car?" i tried to explain that i was uncomfortable with the idea of spending so much money on a luxury item and was much happier taking the bus out for burgers, he just looked confused. more recently, at work one of my co-workers parked himself next to my desk and started telling me how much he hated minivans, and hoped to buy either an suv or little sports car. unprompted, he told me "i feel like someone's car should be sexy and support their lifestyle."
this is becoming a disturbing trend. i'm not surprised that short balding men want compensatory cars, or that any men hope electronics ownership can bring them sex... i just want to know why they all want to tell me about it. it can't be because of my deep appreciation for cars; my own colorful auto history has consisted of a 1979 chevy impala wagon with am radio and no heat, and my current 96 plymouth whose check-engine light warns me regularly that i am about to have unscheduled stops in random places throughout the midwest. it can't be because they want to date me, or i would hope they wouldn't share their whole m.o. can someone help me think of a way to remove the "please, share your thinly veiled desperation" sticker from my forehead?
Friday, August 26, 2005
the symco society pages (aka i never met a latte i didn't like)
has anyone ever read those reeeeally small-town newspapers? or columns about some neighboring village with no real news to report except blurbs like "mr. and mrs. fred jones were at the home of violet and jack fisher last evening for a game of bridge"? it occurs to me that our blog reads a little like that... with that guiding principle in mind, a tale of two girls trying to run errands on a thursday afternoon:
my good friend twinset and i had both finished work early on thursday, and since i'd been on long work shifts recently and had some amount of errands to do for my brother's upcoming wedding, she kindly agreed to be my chauffeur around the city doing what girls love best (buying things). it seemed like a fun idea...
in retrospect, twinset and i firmly believe that the whole thing went bad the minute she tried to drive down 53rd street toward martin luther king dr. to take locals to little italy instead of lake shore drive. lesson #1: don't EVER drive down 53rd st in hyde park. it's a commercial strip where, for some reason, NOBODY is in a hurry and EVERYONE double-parks or just stops in intersections to wave to their friends.
ten minutes later, we had made it ten blocks and were on our way. we arrived finally in little italy for the successful procurement of candied almonds for wedding favors, plus cannoli and chocolate treats for twinset and me. perfect, we thought. now just some lattes for the road and we'll be on our way. lesson #2: although you might think a local italian bakery is a better place to buy lattes than starbucks, you would be wrong. twinset and i are not coffee snobs, and have both been known to drink whatever swill comes our way. but this was foul. my dad taught me that no self-respecting italian drinks cappuccino after 10 am, so either this was passive-aggressive vengeance for us ordering the wrong drink at the wrong time, or the milk had been sitting out since 10am cappuccino hour.
latte-less but still determined to have a good afternoon, we promptly got stuck in traffic a few more times, punctuated by twinset telling me things like "i just know this leads to armitage" only to find ourselves in industrial parks, and eventually found our way to the last stop - trader joe's. lesson #3: don't tell the driver of the car anything like "see, [twinset], i'm so glad i'm with you! all of these things might have been frustrating, but as long as we don't let it get to us it's fine..." because that statement might precipitate, say, running said car alongside a cement pole and getting big scratches in the nice clean paint job. doh.
but a good time was still had by all. i got my errands done, twinset determined that her husband would never see the car scratches before she got to the body shop, and we laughed over her stories of finding herself at the gym on a treadmill next to one of chicago's national celebrities. anyone who can describe said unnamed celebrity as "my GOD, he smells DELICIOUS even after he's done running!" can't be too mad at me for the inconvenience of the afternoon. i hope.
my good friend twinset and i had both finished work early on thursday, and since i'd been on long work shifts recently and had some amount of errands to do for my brother's upcoming wedding, she kindly agreed to be my chauffeur around the city doing what girls love best (buying things). it seemed like a fun idea...
in retrospect, twinset and i firmly believe that the whole thing went bad the minute she tried to drive down 53rd street toward martin luther king dr. to take locals to little italy instead of lake shore drive. lesson #1: don't EVER drive down 53rd st in hyde park. it's a commercial strip where, for some reason, NOBODY is in a hurry and EVERYONE double-parks or just stops in intersections to wave to their friends.
ten minutes later, we had made it ten blocks and were on our way. we arrived finally in little italy for the successful procurement of candied almonds for wedding favors, plus cannoli and chocolate treats for twinset and me. perfect, we thought. now just some lattes for the road and we'll be on our way. lesson #2: although you might think a local italian bakery is a better place to buy lattes than starbucks, you would be wrong. twinset and i are not coffee snobs, and have both been known to drink whatever swill comes our way. but this was foul. my dad taught me that no self-respecting italian drinks cappuccino after 10 am, so either this was passive-aggressive vengeance for us ordering the wrong drink at the wrong time, or the milk had been sitting out since 10am cappuccino hour.
latte-less but still determined to have a good afternoon, we promptly got stuck in traffic a few more times, punctuated by twinset telling me things like "i just know this leads to armitage" only to find ourselves in industrial parks, and eventually found our way to the last stop - trader joe's. lesson #3: don't tell the driver of the car anything like "see, [twinset], i'm so glad i'm with you! all of these things might have been frustrating, but as long as we don't let it get to us it's fine..." because that statement might precipitate, say, running said car alongside a cement pole and getting big scratches in the nice clean paint job. doh.
but a good time was still had by all. i got my errands done, twinset determined that her husband would never see the car scratches before she got to the body shop, and we laughed over her stories of finding herself at the gym on a treadmill next to one of chicago's national celebrities. anyone who can describe said unnamed celebrity as "my GOD, he smells DELICIOUS even after he's done running!" can't be too mad at me for the inconvenience of the afternoon. i hope.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
the bottom of the barrel
i came home from work the other day feeling particularly defeated and decided to curl up on the couch in my favorite pink pajama bottoms to drown my sorrows in three-buck-chuck and spend some quality time with the gilmore girls. i eyed the half-empty bottle of wine on the counter and weighed my options. sure i could do the civilized thing and use a glass, but i'd finally finished washing a giant pile of dishes. for a second it seemed reasonable- nobody would have to know that i'd sunk so low. i'm not sure how long i stood there in the kitchen having an internal debate about whether i was ready to give in and become a completely barbaric pig, but i somehow managed to come to my senses and decided that if i was going to drink alone on the couch at 6:30 on a weekday the least i could do was to use stemwear.
Monday, August 22, 2005
the magnets that hold everything together
my fridge used to be a testament to my young hip life. it chronicled all the fun i was having with my young hip friends and consisted mostly of pictures of us in varying states of intoxication, interspersed with racy commercial art and postcards from the exotic places we were all traveling. but times change, and now my fridge has become a shrine to those same friends' babies. not that they aren't the extraordinarily cute offspring of people who are very important to me... but it's getting a little ridiculous, given that i still function at the level of "ohmigod, billy asked me to the dance(!)" or, at best, "monsoon has $5 lychee martinis on wednesdays!"
i take a little solace in the apparent fact that my silly antics serve as a constant source of amusement to my blogmate, dwtacc, and twinset, who are willing to not only listen to me carry on about said topics, but often act as accomplices. for one thing, it makes me a feel a little better about my failure to evolve into adulthood... and "hey [n#4], a bunch of us are going out for beers tonight," requires me to fabricate entourage on short notice.
i take a little solace in the apparent fact that my silly antics serve as a constant source of amusement to my blogmate, dwtacc, and twinset, who are willing to not only listen to me carry on about said topics, but often act as accomplices. for one thing, it makes me a feel a little better about my failure to evolve into adulthood... and "hey [n#4], a bunch of us are going out for beers tonight," requires me to fabricate entourage on short notice.
Friday, August 19, 2005
emerging from their cocoons
i learned something important wednesday night: goths come out to play on michigan ave at sundown. in the middle of an otherwise very yuppie evening night of meeting mb downtown for a picnic at the free grant park music festival, we found two sad little goths huddling in a little corner of the front garden of the art institute. on the way to dominick's on roosevelt after the concert, a whole goth-gaggle was straggling its way over the bridge. maybe they were on their way to meet the first two sad little goths - i don't know, i can only imagine they all know each other - but i was left with the impression that michigan avenue is a special place for people with spike collars and white face paint.
in other notes, what is it with these people who have never heard of pontoon boats?? i found another besides my chicago-native co-worker, this one a philosophy grad student that mb and i swim with. on trying to explain my fun-filled weekend of floating around on mb's parents' party barge, our philosophical friend asked "so, can you... live... on these... pon-toon boats? at least when i explained that they were basically floating boxes with gerbils for motors, he managed to conclude, "so, i guess you bring lots of beer, then?"
in other notes, what is it with these people who have never heard of pontoon boats?? i found another besides my chicago-native co-worker, this one a philosophy grad student that mb and i swim with. on trying to explain my fun-filled weekend of floating around on mb's parents' party barge, our philosophical friend asked "so, can you... live... on these... pon-toon boats? at least when i explained that they were basically floating boxes with gerbils for motors, he managed to conclude, "so, i guess you bring lots of beer, then?"
Monday, August 15, 2005
the rise and fall of neurologist number four (n#4)
it's not for lack of trying.
ok, maybe i didn't try so hard, but my blogmate put up a good fight.
it went like this:
i kinda thought i had a little bit of an in with n#4. not enough of an in to do anything about it myself, mind you, but enough that i felt the need to talk about it a whole heck of alot. with the clock ticking, my loyal blogmate absorbed the hint and took matters into her own hands. "game on," she said this afternoon, grinning ear to ear, having just invited him to join us for our collective sorrow-drowning at the local bowling-alley slash bar. then there was a scurry to find to some entourage which resulted only in the recruitment of mb, whose company i always enjoy, but whose presence only promised to create an inadvertent air of staged double date. i'll save for another day my experience with, and subsequent distaste for, double date traps.
my worry was all for naught, as it turned out, as n#4 didn't show.
game over.
not that the outing was a total loss.
we expanded my growing list of potential boyfriend deal-breakers to include non-tongue-in-cheek belief in supernatural phenomena, and crossed another guy off the list based on our (relatively unfounded) suspicion that he was a divorced hyperchristian, rather than an atheist computer programmer. it wasn't totally unfounded, actually. the wwjd bracelet and absence of wedding ring that i could have sworn was there the last time i saw him gave it away.
i also took advantage of my time at lucky strike to think about an unfortunately unstable girl at work who gets so stressed out that her hair actually falls out. maybe i'm a horrible person for repeating it, much less finding it funny, but she's such an antagonizing head case that it's nice to have confirmation that it's not my imagination... and that if my biggest problem is my inability to get n#4's attention maybe my life's not so bad.
ok, maybe i didn't try so hard, but my blogmate put up a good fight.
it went like this:
i kinda thought i had a little bit of an in with n#4. not enough of an in to do anything about it myself, mind you, but enough that i felt the need to talk about it a whole heck of alot. with the clock ticking, my loyal blogmate absorbed the hint and took matters into her own hands. "game on," she said this afternoon, grinning ear to ear, having just invited him to join us for our collective sorrow-drowning at the local bowling-alley slash bar. then there was a scurry to find to some entourage which resulted only in the recruitment of mb, whose company i always enjoy, but whose presence only promised to create an inadvertent air of staged double date. i'll save for another day my experience with, and subsequent distaste for, double date traps.
my worry was all for naught, as it turned out, as n#4 didn't show.
game over.
not that the outing was a total loss.
we expanded my growing list of potential boyfriend deal-breakers to include non-tongue-in-cheek belief in supernatural phenomena, and crossed another guy off the list based on our (relatively unfounded) suspicion that he was a divorced hyperchristian, rather than an atheist computer programmer. it wasn't totally unfounded, actually. the wwjd bracelet and absence of wedding ring that i could have sworn was there the last time i saw him gave it away.
i also took advantage of my time at lucky strike to think about an unfortunately unstable girl at work who gets so stressed out that her hair actually falls out. maybe i'm a horrible person for repeating it, much less finding it funny, but she's such an antagonizing head case that it's nice to have confirmation that it's not my imagination... and that if my biggest problem is my inability to get n#4's attention maybe my life's not so bad.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
figures
i could set my watch by the certain predictable phenomena in my life.
like the fact that every purchase i make of a super-cute, super-cheap, white article of clothing results in my spending twice as much time and money looking for the necessary undergarment to wear under it.
or that while i somehow manage to pass myself off as witty and charming to my girlfriends (i think) without trying very hard, the presence of any cute neurologist (take your pick) turns me into an inarticulate stick in the mud.
being a girl is hard.
like the fact that every purchase i make of a super-cute, super-cheap, white article of clothing results in my spending twice as much time and money looking for the necessary undergarment to wear under it.
or that while i somehow manage to pass myself off as witty and charming to my girlfriends (i think) without trying very hard, the presence of any cute neurologist (take your pick) turns me into an inarticulate stick in the mud.
being a girl is hard.
Monday, August 08, 2005
like a broken record
all in all it was a good weekend, even if it started out with the discovery that my blogmate has been publically mocking me... ON THE BLOG!
getting back to the point, i really did get to do fun stuff. the high point was decidedly all the sleeping i got to do, but i also went to the chicago botanic gardens with twinset, caught up (albeit on the phone) with DWTACC, went to a pro-soccer game, discovered that many soccer players are hot, discovered that many soccer fans are hot, discovered the phenomenon of the soccer geek.
soccer geeks are, for the record, not hot. they travel in packs, sing annoying songs, and wear really ugly soccer paraphrenalia. having spent a decent chunk of my life on the farm in europe i have a certain respect for soccer obsession, but it's just not as becoming on mainstream, denim-shorts-wearing, middle-aged american men.
all this weekend activity was good distraction from the rather disturbing fact that i have a crush on yet another neurologist. i don't understand how this keeps happening. the current infatuation is, for a change, not indian, but he's equally well dressed and speaks with an adorable eastern european accent which becomes even more adorable when he gets punchy, swears, and then apologizes for swearing.
the sad thing is that it looks like if i want to do any stalking i'm going to have to get in line. apparently i'm not the only one with a thing for neurologists.
getting back to the point, i really did get to do fun stuff. the high point was decidedly all the sleeping i got to do, but i also went to the chicago botanic gardens with twinset, caught up (albeit on the phone) with DWTACC, went to a pro-soccer game, discovered that many soccer players are hot, discovered that many soccer fans are hot, discovered the phenomenon of the soccer geek.
soccer geeks are, for the record, not hot. they travel in packs, sing annoying songs, and wear really ugly soccer paraphrenalia. having spent a decent chunk of my life on the farm in europe i have a certain respect for soccer obsession, but it's just not as becoming on mainstream, denim-shorts-wearing, middle-aged american men.
all this weekend activity was good distraction from the rather disturbing fact that i have a crush on yet another neurologist. i don't understand how this keeps happening. the current infatuation is, for a change, not indian, but he's equally well dressed and speaks with an adorable eastern european accent which becomes even more adorable when he gets punchy, swears, and then apologizes for swearing.
the sad thing is that it looks like if i want to do any stalking i'm going to have to get in line. apparently i'm not the only one with a thing for neurologists.
Friday, August 05, 2005
re-claiming my low-brow roots
there have been some dangerously yuppie exploits described here lately. high-brow ethics seminars, climbing professional ladders, wearing decent shoes out to dinner... we can't pretend it doesn't happen. i confess my ridiculous excitement about the upcoming opening of a whole foods in the south loop.
now, i don't apologize for the yuppie leanings: last weekend's co-worker birthday expedition to the all-you-can-eat chocolate feast at the peninsula hotel was sooooooooooo delicious and fun! plus i think my blogmate might have had enough of quick-shot's pre-chocolate bar drinks that she managed to spill just enough of the evening on her dress to keep us all from being too classy. :) but i am saying that every good yuppie needs to balance a little. so this weekend mb and i are heading back to wisconsin for some much-anticipated brunch at the come-back inn, and an afternoon of a clearly non-yuppie sport: booze-cruising on his parents' pontoon boat on a small lake near madison.
my excitement about this weekend's plans reminds me that you can take the girl out of the boondocks, but you can't take the boondocks out of the girl... while discussing my weekend plans with a chicago-native co-worker, she looked at me blankly and said "what's a pontoon?" riiiiiiight. because when lake michigan is your lake, you ride on sailboats and large watercraft, and have probably never heard of a party barge. the polite-but-disinterested look i got when describing an entire afternoon of floating around with cheap beer made me feel like maybe i'm not too much of a city girl yet, in spite of the pedicures and new non-ripped jeans and all. good thing.
now, i don't apologize for the yuppie leanings: last weekend's co-worker birthday expedition to the all-you-can-eat chocolate feast at the peninsula hotel was sooooooooooo delicious and fun! plus i think my blogmate might have had enough of quick-shot's pre-chocolate bar drinks that she managed to spill just enough of the evening on her dress to keep us all from being too classy. :) but i am saying that every good yuppie needs to balance a little. so this weekend mb and i are heading back to wisconsin for some much-anticipated brunch at the come-back inn, and an afternoon of a clearly non-yuppie sport: booze-cruising on his parents' pontoon boat on a small lake near madison.
my excitement about this weekend's plans reminds me that you can take the girl out of the boondocks, but you can't take the boondocks out of the girl... while discussing my weekend plans with a chicago-native co-worker, she looked at me blankly and said "what's a pontoon?" riiiiiiight. because when lake michigan is your lake, you ride on sailboats and large watercraft, and have probably never heard of a party barge. the polite-but-disinterested look i got when describing an entire afternoon of floating around with cheap beer made me feel like maybe i'm not too much of a city girl yet, in spite of the pedicures and new non-ripped jeans and all. good thing.
Saturday, July 30, 2005
there's no place like home
i've spent the last couple of weeks sitting in on an ethics seminar. as boring as it sounds, for me it was a very refreshing change of pace. for one thing, all i had to do was sit there and listen. i was also free from the oppressive thumb(s) of my countless bosses. i guess i also learned some stuff...
but the most exciting thing about the whole experience was the people watching. these people were not part of my usual entourage, and while i found most of them to be friendly and insightful, there were a couple who definitely cought my attention.
in third place was a very high strung young lady who is in my line of work at a parallel institution accross town. her research mentor (who also happens to be my research mentor- ok, i guess there was a little bit of an oppressive thumb factor) sent me her way, thinking that we had similar research interests, not knowing that he was sending me into a land mine of, "look, i just can't deal with having to help anyone or keep any appointments. i don't think i have the time or energy to deal with you!" from this is i drew the conclusion that there are those of us who are filterless, and those of us who are neurotic and rude.
coming in second was a rather charming, very metro-sexual canadian guy of some exotic-looking ethnicity that i couldn't put my finger on. in casual conversation i actually found him to be pretty charismatic, but man did i get tired of hearing him say, "that's ridiculous! that would never happen in canada!" he lost his cool every single day about the various and sundry stupid and/or nasty things that americans do driving everyone crazy (and this was a pretty mild mannered bunch). but while i found his approach a little off-putting, i do have to ask myself, "why in the world do i not live in montreal?"
finally, there was little miss philosophy. little miss philosophy was a very intense, very put-together platinum blond who was so stylish it was kind of ridiculous (i didn't know cole hann made flip-flops), and was either very pretty, or kind of scary looking (i couldn't decide). little miss philosophy is finishing up her PhD in philosophy while sitting on various important sounding boards and committees and was really really really passionate (more like aggressive) in her arguments with everyone about everything. she was always going on about things like personhood, and had a special way of throwing around lofty words that don't actually mean anything. my personal favorite was, "how can you say that? it's counterfactual!" i've done alot of thinking about the possible meanings of "counterfactual," and have come to the following translations:
1) you're wrong
2) that doesn't make any sense
3) i don't get it
so as much i've enjoyed my little sojourn back into the world of academics, i'm looking forward to being a droid again.
but the most exciting thing about the whole experience was the people watching. these people were not part of my usual entourage, and while i found most of them to be friendly and insightful, there were a couple who definitely cought my attention.
in third place was a very high strung young lady who is in my line of work at a parallel institution accross town. her research mentor (who also happens to be my research mentor- ok, i guess there was a little bit of an oppressive thumb factor) sent me her way, thinking that we had similar research interests, not knowing that he was sending me into a land mine of, "look, i just can't deal with having to help anyone or keep any appointments. i don't think i have the time or energy to deal with you!" from this is i drew the conclusion that there are those of us who are filterless, and those of us who are neurotic and rude.
coming in second was a rather charming, very metro-sexual canadian guy of some exotic-looking ethnicity that i couldn't put my finger on. in casual conversation i actually found him to be pretty charismatic, but man did i get tired of hearing him say, "that's ridiculous! that would never happen in canada!" he lost his cool every single day about the various and sundry stupid and/or nasty things that americans do driving everyone crazy (and this was a pretty mild mannered bunch). but while i found his approach a little off-putting, i do have to ask myself, "why in the world do i not live in montreal?"
finally, there was little miss philosophy. little miss philosophy was a very intense, very put-together platinum blond who was so stylish it was kind of ridiculous (i didn't know cole hann made flip-flops), and was either very pretty, or kind of scary looking (i couldn't decide). little miss philosophy is finishing up her PhD in philosophy while sitting on various important sounding boards and committees and was really really really passionate (more like aggressive) in her arguments with everyone about everything. she was always going on about things like personhood, and had a special way of throwing around lofty words that don't actually mean anything. my personal favorite was, "how can you say that? it's counterfactual!" i've done alot of thinking about the possible meanings of "counterfactual," and have come to the following translations:
1) you're wrong
2) that doesn't make any sense
3) i don't get it
so as much i've enjoyed my little sojourn back into the world of academics, i'm looking forward to being a droid again.
Friday, July 29, 2005
power trip
i seem to have gotten to a place at work where people do something they've never done before: listen to me. it's odd. i'm not a terribly loud person, and my prevailing theory on work so far has been
1) don't screw it up so badly that i get called to any of my million bosses' offices (try saying "bosses' offices" five times fast)
2) don't do so terribly well that i call too much attention to myself and draw extra work
3) try not to make enemies
4) try not to make such good friends that i get hit on by same-sex co-workers who send me flowers and wine
so far i'm running 75%. but my point is that i try to fly under the radar. how, then, is it that in the past 72 hours, that when i ask a question i get an answer, and when i wonder if everyone could just be quiet and reasonable for a minute, people are actually quiet and reasonable, and when i have something to add to a conversation, people pay attention? all, really, in the last 3 days. i am the same person. and let me be clear that at work, i am definitely a lowly minion. (not a peon anymore, as ng has pointed out, but the next step up.) it's starting to get to my head already, i think - i've come just short several times of telling other arguably-more-important minions exactly what i think of their ideas.
so i need suggestions on what to do with this fun power while it lasts. my thoughts?
1) convince my underlings to launch peta-like crusade to free all the trapped office paper into the wild where it belongs
2) give everyone ridiculous, slightly degrading nicknames and refuse to call them by their real names (hmm, sounds like this blog!)
3) count how many days in a row i can find someone to go and bring me a cookie without asking me why i can't get off my butt and do it myself
4) something involving my power drill, which i bought excitedly a year ago and have never used
taking ideas.
1) don't screw it up so badly that i get called to any of my million bosses' offices (try saying "bosses' offices" five times fast)
2) don't do so terribly well that i call too much attention to myself and draw extra work
3) try not to make enemies
4) try not to make such good friends that i get hit on by same-sex co-workers who send me flowers and wine
so far i'm running 75%. but my point is that i try to fly under the radar. how, then, is it that in the past 72 hours, that when i ask a question i get an answer, and when i wonder if everyone could just be quiet and reasonable for a minute, people are actually quiet and reasonable, and when i have something to add to a conversation, people pay attention? all, really, in the last 3 days. i am the same person. and let me be clear that at work, i am definitely a lowly minion. (not a peon anymore, as ng has pointed out, but the next step up.) it's starting to get to my head already, i think - i've come just short several times of telling other arguably-more-important minions exactly what i think of their ideas.
so i need suggestions on what to do with this fun power while it lasts. my thoughts?
1) convince my underlings to launch peta-like crusade to free all the trapped office paper into the wild where it belongs
2) give everyone ridiculous, slightly degrading nicknames and refuse to call them by their real names (hmm, sounds like this blog!)
3) count how many days in a row i can find someone to go and bring me a cookie without asking me why i can't get off my butt and do it myself
4) something involving my power drill, which i bought excitedly a year ago and have never used
taking ideas.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
everyone sucks except you.
ok, so maybe it hasn't been the world's finest 24 hours, what with getting called in to work extra last night at the last minute for someone who will never pay me back, locking myself out of my apartment, finding out that today is ticket-the-cars-in-chicago-that-don't-have-city-stickers-and-laugh-all-the-way-to-the-bank day, and getting back to work today to sort through a bunch of paperwork only to find out that the office people pulled all the wrong paperwork for me to go through. but for all that, still lots to smile about:
1. thanks to my gracious and more-organized blogmate for spotting my lunch since i didn't have my wallet.
2. thanks to the lovely m for being excited to see me at work last night, and telling me i'm better than [the missing girl] anyway.
3. thanks to l for making me a cup of tea when she saw the stack of papers i was lugging around this afternoon.
4. thanks to the weirdly grumpy but affectionate woman at the currency exchange where i bought my belated city parking sticker, for barking lots of orders at me like "you have to be SURE about your license plate number. are you SURE?", "cash only," "$120. and 50 CENTS. FIFTY CENTS!" but still managing to follow the whole exchange with a big left-sided smile and thank you.
5. thank god i'm not leon, my creepy downstairs neighbor, who i think is in serious financial trouble, as evidenced by the "citibank versus leon" signs all over his front door.
and last but certainly not least:
6. thanks to my weird little building manager for at least having the modesty to wear his tighty-whiteys when he answered the door to my request to be let into my apartment. (ew. i mean, does it take that long to throw on shorts???)
1. thanks to my gracious and more-organized blogmate for spotting my lunch since i didn't have my wallet.
2. thanks to the lovely m for being excited to see me at work last night, and telling me i'm better than [the missing girl] anyway.
3. thanks to l for making me a cup of tea when she saw the stack of papers i was lugging around this afternoon.
4. thanks to the weirdly grumpy but affectionate woman at the currency exchange where i bought my belated city parking sticker, for barking lots of orders at me like "you have to be SURE about your license plate number. are you SURE?", "cash only," "$120. and 50 CENTS. FIFTY CENTS!" but still managing to follow the whole exchange with a big left-sided smile and thank you.
5. thank god i'm not leon, my creepy downstairs neighbor, who i think is in serious financial trouble, as evidenced by the "citibank versus leon" signs all over his front door.
and last but certainly not least:
6. thanks to my weird little building manager for at least having the modesty to wear his tighty-whiteys when he answered the door to my request to be let into my apartment. (ew. i mean, does it take that long to throw on shorts???)
Monday, July 18, 2005
a birthday apology
in honor of quick-shot's birthday today, i would like to hereby retract any statements my blogmate and i may or may not have made regarding any distaste we may have for fanciness. we support fanciness, and yuppieness, and all going out and fun in general. it's just the prevalence of said fanciness, as evidenced by floofy martinis in every sports bar in the city. yes, we want to go out for dinner with you the day after you're done hanging out with your boy. and yes, i will wear clothes without holes in them. just maybe not fancy jeans and heels. i might even order a martini in your honor.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
righteous indignance
first of all, a warm welcome to two of our newest blog readers! as my good blogmate and i have stated before, we think the best way to encourage our readers to comment is to write directly about them. with that, let me begin my protest of a recent conversation:
my blogmate and i are lucky enough to work with these two women who, although they work in a department related to ours, don't see us every day, and we know each other better socially than professionally. this is generally a good thing, because they're fun girls (and not just because one of them used to be a bartender and can mix 26 drinks in 4 minutes). but i stopped by their office to say hi the other day, and we started discussing their impressions of the people in our department. it turns out they've decided that my blogmate is the more laid-back of the two of us, who can tolerate more disorganization, and i'm definitely the anal-retentive one who can't stand it if someone doesn't adhere to policy. this they base on a particular day where i showed up wearing an orange shirt and orange socks.
now, it doesn't actually bother me that they think i'm anal retentive, although my blogmate is the one who keeps getting nominated for stuff like the form-making committee and i'm the one who has lost my work id five times in the last year. and it doesn't bother me that they're making this decision based on one of my apparently notable clothing choices. i would, however, like to protest that they think my outfit was consciously put together, since this was my extensive fashion reasoning:
1. i have a pair of bright orange socks with little daisies on them, and as much as i love them, you can't wear orange socks with just anything.
2. i had a clean orange shirt which is furry and comfortable, but which has a hole in the side that needed covering.
3. too much orange and a need to cover the hole in the shirt meant i stuck my black fleece vest, which i bought for $4 from unique thrift store in bridgeport over the top of the ensemble. (it's funny, quick-shot, that you think this was a put-together look, because my blogmate asked me repeatedly the whole winter when i was going to stop wearing that thing and put it in the laundry already.)
4. add the less-wrinkled khakis and head for work.
quick-shot's partner in crime will note that when she read our blog profile, she questioned me on our dislike of designer jeans, and i couldn't even answer her question about what constitutes designer jeans, since the only jeans i know about are the the one pair i have with a huge hole in the butt, and the other pair i have without the huge hole in the butt.
so. miss quick-shot and miss fancy-pants (your official blog names until you start participating enough to give yourselves new ones), i may do a lot of quirky things, but putting effort into my dress is not one of them.
ps. don't think i'm letting you get away with "oh, j___? he's nobody..." either.
my blogmate and i are lucky enough to work with these two women who, although they work in a department related to ours, don't see us every day, and we know each other better socially than professionally. this is generally a good thing, because they're fun girls (and not just because one of them used to be a bartender and can mix 26 drinks in 4 minutes). but i stopped by their office to say hi the other day, and we started discussing their impressions of the people in our department. it turns out they've decided that my blogmate is the more laid-back of the two of us, who can tolerate more disorganization, and i'm definitely the anal-retentive one who can't stand it if someone doesn't adhere to policy. this they base on a particular day where i showed up wearing an orange shirt and orange socks.
now, it doesn't actually bother me that they think i'm anal retentive, although my blogmate is the one who keeps getting nominated for stuff like the form-making committee and i'm the one who has lost my work id five times in the last year. and it doesn't bother me that they're making this decision based on one of my apparently notable clothing choices. i would, however, like to protest that they think my outfit was consciously put together, since this was my extensive fashion reasoning:
1. i have a pair of bright orange socks with little daisies on them, and as much as i love them, you can't wear orange socks with just anything.
2. i had a clean orange shirt which is furry and comfortable, but which has a hole in the side that needed covering.
3. too much orange and a need to cover the hole in the shirt meant i stuck my black fleece vest, which i bought for $4 from unique thrift store in bridgeport over the top of the ensemble. (it's funny, quick-shot, that you think this was a put-together look, because my blogmate asked me repeatedly the whole winter when i was going to stop wearing that thing and put it in the laundry already.)
4. add the less-wrinkled khakis and head for work.
quick-shot's partner in crime will note that when she read our blog profile, she questioned me on our dislike of designer jeans, and i couldn't even answer her question about what constitutes designer jeans, since the only jeans i know about are the the one pair i have with a huge hole in the butt, and the other pair i have without the huge hole in the butt.
so. miss quick-shot and miss fancy-pants (your official blog names until you start participating enough to give yourselves new ones), i may do a lot of quirky things, but putting effort into my dress is not one of them.
ps. don't think i'm letting you get away with "oh, j___? he's nobody..." either.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
revenge of the nerds
conversation between ng and i seems to keep coming back around to our respective dorkiness. it's a natural instinct, i think, among those of us have always been a little nerdy, to put it out there all at once, lest you inadvertently give the impression that you're actually cool and then get all tangled up in maintaining the illusion. it all started as i was trying to give him a little bit of blog back-story to get him caught up. i put my foot in my mouth trying to explain about the bizarre events staged by my blogmate's theater geek neighbors, forgetting momentarily that ng actually is a theater geek. he absorbed the ribbing rather well, and put out his theory that we all have some degree of inner dork. i argued rather adamantly there's nothing closeted about my dorkiness- that i wear it all on the surface for everyone to see. i'd like to think that it's an endearing quality, but i'm probably wrong... actually, i might even be wrong about the inner dork part.
in spite of my constant complaining about having to work all the time, here i am, putting in an entire day that is totally self-inflicted. granted it's for exorbitant amounts of extra money (see multiple past blogs referencing my love of shopping). this action in itself might be considered dorky, but really it's about shoes.
anyway, as i was getting settled into my temporary work space (i.e. surfing the internet), i discovered that not only could i not print anything, but that my computer wouldn't even acknowledge the big fancy laser printer sitting right next to it. after trying all the tricks i know (high-tech stuff like making sure it was plugged in) and even attempting the add-printer wizard, i gave up and called IT.
aside: i think that the all the installation wizards so graciously provided to us are actually some kind of cruel joke being played on us by the microsoft computer geeks (probably well-deserved, given the forthcoming computer-geek mockery that ensues). it looks like idiot-proof, user-friendly stuff, but i, for one, still can't ever accomplish the task at hand and feel even dumber about it because they make it look so easy.
the IT guy on the phone was pretty patronizing until it became quite clear that he couldn't fix my problem. he did, however, access my computer remotely- i'm always a little creeped out when that happens- there's something freaky about your computer executing all these commands (with the mouse arrow moving all around) when you're not the one doing the commanding. (for those of you who are mystified by my intense hatred of horror movies, my fear of possessed computers ought to convince you that i'm not faking it).
so phone IT guy (PITG- p could also stand for patronizing) gave up and dispatched live, in person, frenetic IT guy (FITG). FITG was every bit as peppy as PITG wasn't. he was tickled pink to even have found me (and more importantly the printer), and i have to say that he got full credit for finding his way through the maze of hallways, as i was totally incapable of explaining where i was. i spent the next 15 minutes in a tiny room with one highly energetic dude who was so surprised by his inability to fix the problem that he crawled under my desk on hands and knees to check things out (i wasn't sitting at the desk at the time)- he'd correctly surmised that only frank mechanical failure could explain his apparent lack of computer prowess. he was the happiest computer geek i've ever seen. i was less happy, since it turned out that my problem was lack of some kind of internet access so that my printer can talk to the server which can talk to my computer- this problem can only be fixed if someone takes financial responsibility for my office and pays for the service.
though i've already demonstrated how un-computer-savvy i am, i can't deny my fascination with FITG. besides, doesn't it seem like connecting the printer directly to the computer would eliminate the proverbial middle man and obviate the need for funding? maybe i have some inner dork after all...
in spite of my constant complaining about having to work all the time, here i am, putting in an entire day that is totally self-inflicted. granted it's for exorbitant amounts of extra money (see multiple past blogs referencing my love of shopping). this action in itself might be considered dorky, but really it's about shoes.
anyway, as i was getting settled into my temporary work space (i.e. surfing the internet), i discovered that not only could i not print anything, but that my computer wouldn't even acknowledge the big fancy laser printer sitting right next to it. after trying all the tricks i know (high-tech stuff like making sure it was plugged in) and even attempting the add-printer wizard, i gave up and called IT.
aside: i think that the all the installation wizards so graciously provided to us are actually some kind of cruel joke being played on us by the microsoft computer geeks (probably well-deserved, given the forthcoming computer-geek mockery that ensues). it looks like idiot-proof, user-friendly stuff, but i, for one, still can't ever accomplish the task at hand and feel even dumber about it because they make it look so easy.
the IT guy on the phone was pretty patronizing until it became quite clear that he couldn't fix my problem. he did, however, access my computer remotely- i'm always a little creeped out when that happens- there's something freaky about your computer executing all these commands (with the mouse arrow moving all around) when you're not the one doing the commanding. (for those of you who are mystified by my intense hatred of horror movies, my fear of possessed computers ought to convince you that i'm not faking it).
so phone IT guy (PITG- p could also stand for patronizing) gave up and dispatched live, in person, frenetic IT guy (FITG). FITG was every bit as peppy as PITG wasn't. he was tickled pink to even have found me (and more importantly the printer), and i have to say that he got full credit for finding his way through the maze of hallways, as i was totally incapable of explaining where i was. i spent the next 15 minutes in a tiny room with one highly energetic dude who was so surprised by his inability to fix the problem that he crawled under my desk on hands and knees to check things out (i wasn't sitting at the desk at the time)- he'd correctly surmised that only frank mechanical failure could explain his apparent lack of computer prowess. he was the happiest computer geek i've ever seen. i was less happy, since it turned out that my problem was lack of some kind of internet access so that my printer can talk to the server which can talk to my computer- this problem can only be fixed if someone takes financial responsibility for my office and pays for the service.
though i've already demonstrated how un-computer-savvy i am, i can't deny my fascination with FITG. besides, doesn't it seem like connecting the printer directly to the computer would eliminate the proverbial middle man and obviate the need for funding? maybe i have some inner dork after all...
Monday, July 11, 2005
cat dung, fake dragons and beer: a week in review
in an effort to catch up on my blogging, here is a clif's notes version of my last several days...
1. my neighbor's cat poops in my pepper plants. thankfully, my neighbor seems to notice and comes to clean out the peppers. even more thankfully, i just learned last night that the cat belongs to someone else, because the distraught owner was standing outside wondering if my neighbors were home because she really wants the cat back. despite what happened last time i let a stranger into the building (see the story about the chatty wet goth), i reeeeally wanted to let her in so her cat could stop pooping in my plants.
2. mb is especially dismayed that even though my plants are getting pooped on, his plants are still suckier than my plants. he did some kind of pruning job on his hanging plant that leaves about five leaves drooping over the side of the pot. maybe if we leave it on the ground for the cat to go to work on it, it will survive?
3. my musical-producer-wannabe neighbors have been back regularly. seriously. how can college boys singing in british accents in a back courtyard take themselves this seriously? how can i find out what they're doing? i already tried showing up at intermission with a gin and tonic wandering around their "stage" smirking. taking suggestions.
4. 4th-of-july bachelorette party antics in minneapolis: great weekend spent with my brother's fiance (known hereafter as butterknife for her amazing ability to need stitches when using said dull object), saw their new house, bridal shower went well. let me just say that no bachelorette is as noticeable in a bar as the one who shows up with a veil decorated with white lights that run off a battery pack that sits on the back of her neck. three cheers to our friend who designed that one. :)
5. my love of vicarious living is continually aided by my blogmate's new boy, who works in stage design and seems to have opinions on weighty subjects like where to purchase the best theater dragon and how to apply latex face masks. ooohh... maybe he could come critique my theatrical neighbors? or bring them a dragon?
...last week butterknife told me that from my stories, it seems like i don't actually work. point taken. but who wants to hear about paperwork? if i had a job where i bought dragons, i might tell those.
1. my neighbor's cat poops in my pepper plants. thankfully, my neighbor seems to notice and comes to clean out the peppers. even more thankfully, i just learned last night that the cat belongs to someone else, because the distraught owner was standing outside wondering if my neighbors were home because she really wants the cat back. despite what happened last time i let a stranger into the building (see the story about the chatty wet goth), i reeeeally wanted to let her in so her cat could stop pooping in my plants.
2. mb is especially dismayed that even though my plants are getting pooped on, his plants are still suckier than my plants. he did some kind of pruning job on his hanging plant that leaves about five leaves drooping over the side of the pot. maybe if we leave it on the ground for the cat to go to work on it, it will survive?
3. my musical-producer-wannabe neighbors have been back regularly. seriously. how can college boys singing in british accents in a back courtyard take themselves this seriously? how can i find out what they're doing? i already tried showing up at intermission with a gin and tonic wandering around their "stage" smirking. taking suggestions.
4. 4th-of-july bachelorette party antics in minneapolis: great weekend spent with my brother's fiance (known hereafter as butterknife for her amazing ability to need stitches when using said dull object), saw their new house, bridal shower went well. let me just say that no bachelorette is as noticeable in a bar as the one who shows up with a veil decorated with white lights that run off a battery pack that sits on the back of her neck. three cheers to our friend who designed that one. :)
5. my love of vicarious living is continually aided by my blogmate's new boy, who works in stage design and seems to have opinions on weighty subjects like where to purchase the best theater dragon and how to apply latex face masks. ooohh... maybe he could come critique my theatrical neighbors? or bring them a dragon?
...last week butterknife told me that from my stories, it seems like i don't actually work. point taken. but who wants to hear about paperwork? if i had a job where i bought dragons, i might tell those.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
