Signing Off Thursday, December 29, 2005

Aaah, the irony of it all. I can update my blog with abandon, but can't check my email. (Paige - I attempted to POP my way in! Still blocked - no dice)

I'm off to Galena for a long weekend to hang with some friends and do nothing in the middle of nowhere. I'll be back on Tuesday morning with pictures and stories, I'm sure.

Happy New Year to you all - be safe!

It's Official

There was talk at the water cooler, and now it has finally come to pass. The internet monitoring software at work has cut off all access to Hotmail and Gmail.

This guarantees two things: (1) This will be the first office EVER at which I could not check my personal email, and (2) I will gradually go crazy. (sob)

Woke up this morning, feeling FIIIINNNNE

I had two lovely interactions this morning with total strangers. No, I have not succumb to a life of prostitution.

Ladies, chime in if you agree with me on this one -- There are mornings sometimes when 15-25 minutes of extra sleep are WAY more important than showering. During these times, I like to justify myself by way of a quick reminder that it's healthy to NOT wash your hair every day. So I do up a messy pony, slap on some makeup, and do my best to attempt a preppy version of bohemian chic. This morning was one of those mornings.

So it makes sense to me that, on my way to work, I should be treated to a little change of perspective. Aboard the CTA Bus 146, the driver was calling out all the stops old-school style. In fact, he sort of reminded me of that David Spade copy room skit from the mid-90's SNL cast -- same tone of voice. He just seemed like he was having so much fun. I was intrigued, so just before I got off the bus, I said, "You're in an awfully good mood this morning." He replied with a big smile, "I am. I love my job!"

Exiting the McDonald's and headed towards my building, I made eye contact with a man who was sitting on a concrete ledge tying his shoelaces. He was wearing a funny hat, and it made me smile. He said, "Have a great day, young lady." I responded, "Thank you, you too." Then he whistled his way into the restaurant.

It's a sort of universal reminder that even though I sort of smell like sleep, and my hair is dirty, it really doesn't matter. 99.9% of the people I come into contact with don't even notice. Which begs the question - why not do it more often?

Sniff Sniff Wednesday, December 28, 2005

The only reason I'm even posting this is because it was funny enough to get my mind off of my complete embarassment at drunk-dialing my mother.

In which she wonders, "Am I possibly still drunk?"

Last night was one of those great nights when there is so much fun to be had that no attention whatsoever is paid to the amount of alcohol taken in. When someone (ahem) is a terrible lightweight, this can be a problem.

For those of you that are familiar with East Lakeview, here's the basic schedule of the night. Meet up with college friend AD, purchase wine at Kafka, dinner at Hearty Boys. (Excellent ribeye, by the way, I wholeheartedly recommend it) Out to KitKat Club with AD and boyfriend to have more drinks and, to my surprise, a drag queen! I was so entranced by this man in drag that I wasn't paying attention to what I was consuming. Seriously - it was DISTRACTING how much he looked like a woman. I was very very impressed.

Either way, I got a ride home (Thanks, D) and didn't actually ponder my own drunkenness until I woke up at 2 am. I had passed out. After leaving what I'm sure was a very interesting message on Sean's phone. In a t-shirt. With no pants.

The dog was very confused.

Needless to say, this morning has been...difficult and painful. Hope you all are doing far, far better than I.

Breaking News: Hello, Embarassment! My name is Jamie! Apparently I drunkdialed my mother last night, in response to a message that she had left me. I spoke with her this morning, and she coolly says to me, "How's your head?" and then starts cackling. We allegedly had a looong conversation about Bordo's, drinking merlot, and in the course of the call, I admitted that I had had "one too many." She claims that I didn't say anything of note, but that I was slurring. I just wish I COULD REMEMBER THE DAMN PHONE CALL. Why does this always happen to me?! I am mortified.

Holiday Update Tuesday, December 27, 2005

Here's the skinny on my Christmas...My parents still spoil me, and everyone else in our family. My niece Bri has a general concept of Santa but knows that none of her gifts came from him. You wanna know how I know? After she opened every gift, she said, "Thank you, Gamma [Grandma]." She is one smart cookie.


And in other news, Baby Grant is now voluntarily smiling. This is astounding to us, as we are all wrapped around his fat little finger.


Even the dog got a great gift from my Aunt Judy - a fuzzy, pink bone. (Hello, pervy googlers!) He is in love with it, which reinforces my beliefs that he might be gay. Which is fine with me - I'll love and support him no matter what kind of lifestyle he chooses.


Hope you all had a wonderful holiday as well!

Mazel Tov!

In general, Chicagoans typically pride themselves on being "midwestern" nice - an open, warmhearted people, if you will (even if the source of that warmth is beer). While we are not nearly as jaded as New Yorkers, few things surprise us. International Man of Leather Convention? Snore. Crazy man who drives a pig mobile around the gold coast? BO-RING.

So you will have to understand that I was taken aback when I had a run-in with the Mitzvah Tank. Let's put it this way -- the incident went onto the long list of reasons why I need to invest in a camera phone. There is a family driving around my neighborhood in an RV with signs all over it saying "Mitzvah Tank," "Happy Chanukah," and various things that I couldn't translate from Hebrew to English. They had a PA system blaring Jewish holiday music, and there was a feisty young man riding shotgun who would randomly call out "HAPPY CHANUKAH EVERYBODY!" The first time he yelled, I simultaneously jumped out of my own skin and shit my pants. (It was a feat of physics known only to the members of Cirque du Soleil and people who are startled easily.)

I usually find religious fanaticism (in all its forms) entertaining, but I think all things have their limits. I saw the Mitzvah Tank 3 times in 15 minutes. THREE. ONE, TWO, THREE TIMES. Perhaps it would not have been quite so annoying if they weren't screaming at the top of their lungs on an RV loudspeaker - that's all I'm sayin'. The last time they drove past me, I waved and flashed a smile that plainly communicated, "I'm really happy that it's your holiday but can you stop screaming on that godforsaken loudspeaker?!" (Inside, I was laughing at my own, internal use of the word godforsaken - how ironic given the situation) If this was a sign that God really wanted me to become a Jew, couldn't he just send a divine message of conversion through my Jewish brother-in-law? Because that Mitzvah Tank business is just a menace to society.

Merry Merry Thursday, December 22, 2005

My grandfather on my mother's side was a funny man - always the first one to crack a joke, and was never afraid to show emotion. In fact, I think I get much of my personality from him. When I was a child, he was always there to put things in perspective with a shortened, and usually sarcastic, version of whatever story was being told...you know the type, the ones in which he is an orphan walking barefoot in the snow uphill both ways? I loved his stories.

When he got older, he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease. It is a scary, unpredictable, and very frustrating thing to deal with, but he took it like a champ. His sense of humor faded a bit and his stories sort of fell by the wayside, and I was just happy when he recognized me and gave me a hug. Watching him deteriorate was infuriating - I was 18 and full of vitality and life, and he was 88 and leaving us slowly but surely. I never forgot some of the looks on my mother's and grandmother's faces at the hospital, at home, on the bad days.

Every Christmas I would hope in my deepest, darkest heart of hearts for a Christmas miracle for him. In retrospect, I think I just wanted him to come back to us. Every year, he'd do it up right with his brown slippers and Mr. Roger's button-up cardigan sweater...he was always seated in his favorite chair and offered as much holiday spirit as he could. It usually came out in the form of "Merry Merry," which I'm sure he thought was a hilarious shortening of the traditional phrase. Over time, it became his holiday mantra and we all did our best to be as merry as possible. Then we lost him in the fall of 1997 and things just haven't been the same. My grandmother, who is now a very spunky 92, continues to pass along the message to everyone she meets around this time of year.

Merry Merry to you and your loved ones this season - may you be happy and healthy and bright. Be good to one another and also to yourselves. I'll be back early next week.

Top 5 Reasons Jamie is Merry Today

5. Told some rude guy off on the bus this morning - he deliberately blocked some old lady's passage to the front door because the bus was still moving. So she stood there, embarassed, while he played CTA bus & aisle traffic manager. I thought it was an asshat thing to do, so I told him so. In much nicer terms, of course.

4. Today is the last day of work before a 4-day weekend!

3. I'm having a great hair day.

2. My dog was adorable this morning, and clearly didn't want to see me leave. I find any and all canine adoration completely endearing.

1. The vending machine in my new building sells cans of Diet Coke for $0.15 each! I am in a very heavily caffeinated heaven.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS! Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Doc wishes you a Happy Holiday with no embarassing apparel.

I'm Still Standing Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Thank you so much, all, for the well wishes on my new job. Day 2 is going swimmingly, orientation was boring, and everything is great. The person training me left for lunch, and my only instructions were to "surf the internet or something," while she was gone. SCORE. I don't plan on blogging about my new job, but sufficed to say that it is the POLAR OPPOSITE of my last job. Which is a really good thing.

Message to Jonna - The Freddy Jones Band is playing a big gig here in Chicago on New Year's Eve. Are you sure they broke up?

In other news, Christmas is around the corner and the natives are getting restless. Even the dog has come down with a touch of cabin fever - he woke me up at 3:15 am this morning (for the SECOND time, that little shit) by jumping up and down on my chest and barking in my face. It's a good thing he's really, REALLY cute otherwise everyone in my family would be eating dog sausage with their pancakes on Christmas morning.

If I don't get a chance to post again this week, have a wonderful holiday, whatever you celebrate!

The blog topics - they come for me in the night Sunday, December 18, 2005

TWO MORE SIGNS THAT THE APOCALYPSE IS NIGH

- Christmas is less than a week away, and I'm still wondering about what to get my 92 year old grandmother. It's the last gift I need to get and it's driving me crazy. I would buy her another year of life, but let's be frank: if I could do that, I wouldn't be starting a new job tomorrow. I'd be on a beach or a mountain somewhere - busy with hiring a staff of people to do all of my dirty work.

- I started a weird habit of drinking 8-12 oz. of water before going to bed. YES, I'M DRINKING WATER. EVERYDAY. What is the world coming to?! I guess my body is finally collapsing in Diet Coke-induced exhaustion...Every night, I feel like a traveler stranded in the Sahara. It's defies explanation.

In Which She Says Almost Nothing of Note

The commute tote bag is packed - book? Check. New hire paperwork? Check...and the list goes on. I'm one of those people that always has one of everything in her bag at all times. I've been known to pack Band-Aids, Tums, pens AND pencils, hand lotion, assorted toiletries of a cosmetic persuasion, breakfast bars, extra layers of clothing, Q-tips, notebooks -- hell, I've even toyed with the idea of carrying a personal recorder so that when a blog topic strikes me, I don't have to worry about remembering it until the next time I can get online. Sad, isn't it, that my life is quickly becoming a list of things to do?

To Do: Monday, December 19th
- Wake up at less-than-desirable hour
- Put on potentially uncomfortable shoes
- Ride strange bus to new job
- Pray to Starbucksian gods in case Diet Coke is not available/nearby
- Head into New Hire Orientation
- Smile big
- Keep mouth shut
- Pray that no one realizes how clueless I am

Onto another chapter! Eeeee! Wish me luck!

Tick...Tock...Tick...Tock Friday, December 16, 2005

T-minus 1 hour and 9 minutes until I am no longer gainfully employed here.

It feels really weird to be leaving.

La La LAAAAAAA

I heard a song this morning that jump started my childhood memory bank, and served as a logical explanation as to why I am the way I am today. I just hadn't made the connection.

I used to sing. Did you know that, internet? Not professionally, OMG no.

Do you remember that song "Send me an Angel," with the crazy soprano opera voice in the background? SEND ME AN ANGEL (WHOOAAAA OH OHHHHHH) SEND ME AN ANGEL (WHOAAAA OH OH OHHHHHH) RIGHT NOW, RIGHT NOW! Remember?! Anyways, I heard it on the radio this morning and remembered that, as a child, I used to try and sing that weird, operatic part in the shower. Seriously...I had heard from a friend that shower acoustics were really great, so I decided to try it out.

It didn't help that I'd recently landed a solo in our church choir and was two compliments away from thinking I was the next Barbara Streisand. I vaguely remember my sister saying that she would delete our Wheel of Fortune computer game if I didn't get out of the shower and stop the DAMN SINGING. (Except she didn't say damn because we would have gotten grounded for a year)

Jump forward 15 years, and here I am...former semi-prof. musical participant, shower singer extraordinaire, and lover of all things karaoke. Eureka! It all makes sense now!

Taking Advantage Thursday, December 15, 2005

My days as a professional slouch are officially numbered.

Only 1.5 more days on the job here, and I'm in black fleece pants, kickin' black athletic socks, a green "favorite" tee, and a kelly green zip-up fleece pullover. Once I leave my job on Friday, I'm going to throw away the sneakers I'm wearing -- they're that old and gross. Can you tell that I'm trying to milk as much time as possible in a work environment that has no dress code?!

OH YEAH.

Sling THIS Wednesday, December 14, 2005

I'm curious about this Slingbox thing that everyone is talking about. A coworker of mine has a son doing consulting work in Bahrain, and is wants them to get one so that he and his wife can watch their favorite TV shows.

The conservative grandmother in me wants to shout out, "How is this possible?" I know Sean will laugh out loud when I say this, but I cannot even wrap my head around the technology that makes this gadget "go." I find it simultaneously fascinating and confusing.

It also makes me feel somewhat inadequate since I don't have a computer, a broadband home network, or a DVR device on my television. Apparently I'm living in the Stone Age.

Keeping myself occupied Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Thanks to this site, my last week of work isn't going too poorly.

It's weird - my job is crazy with callers, complainers, and paperwork...then, when I have someone I need to train on all the chaos, it's like a tomb around here. No calls, barely any emails, and almost no orders to input. Guess you never can tell...

The Zit that Ate Cleveland

I'd write a good post today, but I'm too busy avoiding making any sudden moves with my face. You see, I have the largest pimple known to all mankind quietly setting up residence on the bottom edge of my lower lip. Since I am not one of those freaky people who takes pleasure in popping their own zits, I will continue to simmer and remain facially still until it decides when to make it's official appearance as something unholy and wholly unattractive.

Remember that stupid pre-teen, female-oriented game that was based on dating, trading cards with boys' photos, and those damn red dot zit stickers? I used to have it, and it was pretty funny to play when I was younger. Now I know why it was funny then and isn't funny now - BECAUSE ACTUAL ACNE HURTS LIKE A MOTHER*$*@ER, THAT'S WHY.

I never had a problem with acne growing up, so when I get one bad breakout, I feel like just packing it in. THROW IN THE TOWEL BECAUSE MY FACE WILL NEVER BE THE SAME AGAIN. I had dinner with Dick and Sally last night and they both mentioned something to the effect of..."What is that THING on your face?!"

Vain? Yup. True? Yup. Go ahead and judge me, people of the internet, I dare you. If you leave a negative comment, I'll come over to your house and pop this monstrosity in your face.

Seriously. Ouch.

Speaking of Dick Cheney... Monday, December 12, 2005

It's come to my attention that, unlike other, fun blogs, I don't have crafty names for my immediate relatives. It's time for all of that to change.

My friends seem to think that my father looks like Dick Cheney - even the glasses. My mother looks like a grey-haired Sally Field. SOOOO...henceforth, they will be referred to as Dick Cheney and Sally Field.

I'm sure you were just DYING for this information. Enjoy.

Sad News

At 10:42 this morning, someone found my site by searching for the phrase "I Hit Like a Girl."


I find this completely depressing.

Kristine Kringle?

I finished decorating my apartment this weekend (w/the help of SMD) and now I'm officially ready to celebrate the holidays! Merriment on the discussion docket includes: (1) an ongoing debate as to what Mrs. Klaus' first name is, (2) whether or not my dog will try and eat the candy canes off of the tree, and (3) the consideration I might give my neighbors by pulling the jingle bell wreath off of the front door.



I can feel the holidays in the air now. I only have a couple presents left to wrap, and then I will just sit and take it all in. Hope you are all finding a way to enjoy your holidays - whatever they may be.


Merry Chrismahannukwanzaahah!

Today doesn't feel like a Friday Friday, December 09, 2005

Today has been a bit stressful - up at 5:45 to try and dig my car out of it's parking spot in the VERY SNOWY alley. No dice there, so carpooled to work.

My interim replacement is here, so I've been busy training her on the tiny, seemingly insignificant bits of my work. Unfortunately, there are many of them, and a metric ton of projects that need conclusion or transition. Blecch. Things are stressful and I am wishing that I had decided to take a week off before starting my new job. Whoops.


The 'Hoff says, "Have a great weekend, kids! I'll be enjoying coke and hairy, german hookers while you shovel yourselves out from under 10 inches of snow. SUCKAS!"

Project FUNway Thursday, December 08, 2005

Unlike half of the blogging world, I will not be posting inane commentary about last night's premiere of this season's Project Runway.

My concern is this: How far will reality television editing professionals go to make the token African-American woman seem like the aggressive, power-hungry bitch? Zulema, one of the contestants, is quickly becoming Omarosa: The Sequel. I don't know whether it's the way she truly is that makes her so unlikeable, or if it's the editing that is turning her into the villain.

Either way, she's a real piece of work. I had to flip the channel a few times last night because I simply couldn't watch her. She's obnoxious, self-serving, and totally rigid. She wouldn't even share a closet 50/50 with her roommate - that, my friend, is complete crap.

I'm calling it right here, right now: Zulema is going to be the cast member that every looooves to hate. You heard it here first, folks.

Let it snow, Let it snow, Let it snow

Attention all Chicagoland readers: HAVE YOU LOOKED OUT A WINDOW RECENTLY?! It's going to take me an hour to get home - yowza.

Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Not that I want to end my day on a downer, but please take a moment today and remember that 9/11 wasn't the first tragic surprise attack in our nation's history, and it won't be the last.

And while you're at it, give any veteran you know a big hug!

The Business of Beauty

Last night, the annual Victoria's Secret Fashion show aired on CBS. I couldn't help but watch as it played not only to my reality tv addiction, but also to my fervent love for shoes, clothing, and accessories. Had the models been wearing handbags, I would have been in heaven...but I digress.

I shall employ the metric so popular amongst those bearing opposable thumbs: The Siskel & Ebert Test. Onward!

Thumbs Way Up To:

- Heidi Klum and Seal together. He may look a little scary, but they are an adorable couple and did you see her postnatal figure?! Damn.

- One model crossed herself before hitting the runway. I see that as a sign that she's nervous, somewhat modest, and wanting to do her best without popping out of her bra, or having her wings break onstage. I think any performer should always be just a TEEN-SY bit nervous - it keeps you on your toes.

- Victoria's Secret execs making it clear who has what "best feature." I'm composing a thank you note to the person who decided to cover up Tyra Banks' ass.

- Congratulations to the model who got her shoe stuck in the junction of two runway plates. She seamlessly stepped right out of it, and continued in rhythm down the runway with one shoe on.

- Use of my favorite Basement Jaxx tune.

- Alessandra Aramios (or whatever the hell her name is - the one in hot pink carrying the big pink bag). If I were a lesbian, or a heterosexual man, I would have photos of her all over my apartment. She is completely gorgeous.

Thumbs Down Down DOWN to:

- Tyra Banks being described as the Michael Jordan of the runway. No way in hell. Just...no.

- The obvious timing of this production as a huge holiday sales and marketing vehicle for Victoria's Secret. I wonder what would happen if I went into one of their stores tonight and said, "I want to buy that Tin Soldier outfit, but I'm afraid that the wooden rifle and cylindrical hat will overwhelm my figure. Do you have that in a petite 8?"

- Ricky Martin. Need I say more?

- The glaringly obvious lack of redheaded models. The only redhead I saw throughout the entire show was one of the toy soldier back-up dancers, and she was UGLY. Where is Angie Everhart when you need her?!

In short, I was mesmerized by the show. I thought it had a surprisingly high production value and was genuinely entertaining -- even Ricky Martin, as obnoxious as he is. I secretly hoped that hundreds of young, latin men would come streaming out of the woodwork and the show morph into a surprise Menudo reunion.

Additionally, I thought it was wonderful to see the behind-the-scenes clips of the MANY people it takes to make these women look as beautiful as they do. I think it's important for the general public to know that each of these models has about 10 professionals buzzing around her, their sole purpose to make her stunning. Right down to the dude who applies the gold shimmer lotion, strategically to bounce light off of cellulite, cover moles and birthmarks, and make each bosom appear that much larger. KAROLINA KURKOVA HAS CELLULITE, EVERYBODY. I SAW IT, ON CAMERA. I can't emphasize how much I appreciated the relative de-mystification of the modeling world.

If I had a staff of 8 following me around, doing my hair, makeup, and putting bronzer on my butt cheeks, I'd look a hell of a lot better too!

I've been a bad, bad girl Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Not really, but I wanted to see what kind of traffic I'll get from that title.

This morning, I had a little run-in with the cops. That's right - me and bunch of guys who count "one, two, tree..." I was walking to my car this morning, and to avoid a lot of the freezing cold freezy-freeziness that is the wind, I took a shortcut. That shortcut leads through a bunch of alleys, and directly through a "Police Personnel Only" parking lot for the Police Station at Halsted & Addison.

Some crazy carpooling cops were busy parking a red BMW (ummm...did my taxes pay for that?) when I hit the lot. I had my head down, and just sort of walked through quietly and tried my best not to laugh when he hit his 14th parallel parking adjustment. After I crossed the street, I heard someone say, "Ma'am! Ma'am!" I turned around, and the entire carful of cops were crossing the street and headed my way.

I never thought I would ever write that last sentence. Ever.

They not-so-politely questioned me about whether I had parked in the POLICE PERSONNEL ONLY parking lot and didn't I see the signage informing the general public to STAY THE HELL OUT, CARROT TOP?! When I finally got the chance to speak, I was too stunned to say anything -- mind you, I was still half asleep. My voice cracked, and one of the goons was like, "Okay, you know what? We'll just walk you back to your car so you can move it somewhere else."

And then I let loose, well, that's a relative term because I am a big chickens--t. I informed them that if they'd allowed me a chance to speak without making assumptions, I would have pointed out my car (which was now within sight) and been on my merry way. I also flippantly asked if our little interaction was causing them to miss morning donut time down at the station, and whether or not their attitudes were derived from excess testosterone, or if perhaps they were compensating for being HUNG LIKE MOSQUITOES. Okay, maybe I didn't say that last part, but it certainly crossed my mind.

I then excused myself, and headed for my car. By now, my hair was literally frozen, and all I wanted to do was escape. To my surprise, they watched me walk to my car, open it, get in, and drive away. I wouldn't be surprised if they ran my plates when they got into work. Jerks.

Confession...

I love bad music from the 80's - most notably the Pet Shop Boys, Howard Jones, and Duran Duran. Simon Le Bon was the first guy I ever (!) had a crush on.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes Monday, December 05, 2005

I gave 2 week's notice today at my employer. I was very lucky to be hired into a sparkly, new position with a company downtown. I am thrilled about the future, but stuck in that awkward phase now: the present. And lemme tell ya - the present ain't a gift. It's a bitch.

It's very bittersweet leaving this particular position. While I spent a majority of my time unhappy, I also put forth a LOT of effort to produce consistent, high-quality work. Let's just say that my boss(es) knew it was coming -- I was the other shoe, dropping.

Off to bigger and better things. Maybe this time, I'll be able to stay put.

Reading...

Please welcome Fluid Pudding to the stage (complete with adorable pudding pops) She is one of the funniest bloggers ever - she's that hip mom everyone wanted but never had.

I'm still not able to pull my pre-pregnancy jeans over my flabby c-sectioned stomach, and it's really starting to bring me down. Along with removing the baby, I'm afraid my doctor ripped out all of my muscles and filled my abdominal region with some sort of doughy substance. I'm pissed, yet I'm holding out hope that some morning my belly button will spit out a bunch of homemade biscuits (and strawberry preserves!) and suddenly all of my pants will fit again. Please pray for this miracle.

Monday Debate: Wordsmithery

Throughout my childhood, I had a knack for speaking well beyond my age. By this, I mean that my vocabulary was advanced, but only selectively so. Spelling was a cinch for me, and certain words just sort of came naturally. Let's put it this way: my peers used to make fun of me for it.

Someone asked me this weekend what my favorite word in the WHOLE WORLD is. Despite the momentary thrill of feeling like I was being interviewed by James Lipton, I didn't have an interesting answer. In fact, I'm still not sure what my favorite word of all time might be.

But for today, I'll go with perambulate. Or maybe vernacular because it seems relevant.

What is YOUR favorite word?

I am a Boob Friday, December 02, 2005

Here's yet another example of how messed up my priorities are when it comes to free time. Last night, when I should have been working out, cleaning my apartment, eating dinner, and putting my laundry away....I was watching Straight Talk on tv.


Seriously, could there BE a weirder couple in a movie? I want to send a letter of complaint to the casting directors, Mary Gail and Barbara. In what society, ON WHAT PLANET, do Dolly Parton and James Woods fall in love?! Somebody please explain this to me.

The only reason I watched the entire thing (other than procrastination) was the setting which was, of course, Chicago! It was interesting to see how much the city has changed in the last decade or so. The office in the movie was filmed at the corner of School, Marshfield, and Lincoln Ave in Roscoe Village -- right down the street from Dinkel's Bakery! And of course the costuming caught my eye because...well, let's face it: it's an uphill battle to try and cover up those funbags. Poor Dolly.

Wax On...Wax Off?

Last night, while I was dutifully filling up my burgundy baby at the pumps, I decided that she had gone too long without a bath. After pulling into the fabulous and luxurious BPConnect carwash, I turned my engine off and started the mental dance/trance that is the carwash jet thingy. I can't get enough of it - I am always mesmerized by the multicolored foam and...well, I'll just stop myself there.

Right after the tri-color-wax-spray-car-shield-thingy finished, the machine made a loud groaning noise and shut off. The three streams of wax were sliding their way down my car, and starting to look like an afghan off the set of "That 70's Show." I waited a minute, hit my wipers, and noticed that all the helpful lights on the sides of the wash had gone dim. The big garage doors were shut, and only one light was left on. I had no choice but to ignore my growing claustrophobia and call the BP.

(ring ring) BP Connect, this is Mike.

Yeah, ummm....hi. I'm actually in your carwash right now, well in my car, but I'm stuck in the carwash building thingy. Everything just shut down and my car is covered in...stuff, and the doors aren't lifting, and the...

Okay, I can see you on the camera. I'll open the door and you can drive around for a new code and new wash.

Ummm, well, that won't work because that swiveling sprayer doo-dad is sort of blocking my car. I'd have to break the entire machine to get out.

I see the problem. I'll be right out.

10 MINUTES LATER, he comes into the garage thingy and wrestles the sprayer back into position. After ascertaining that the wash was indeed broken, he instructed me to drive around for a refund.

What's the worst part of this story, you ask? By the time I got back out to my car to drive to a manual carwash (i.e. the kind with men who scrub and vacuum, etc.) all of the detergents and waxes were frozen on my car. Sort of like it's been coated with an industrial layer of spunk. I WISH I WERE KIDDING.

So if you see a burgundy Mitsubishi driving around Lakeview this weekend, and it looks as if it's been the victim of a spunk-and-run of ELEPHANTINE proportions, be sure to wave!

I Love a Meme Thursday, December 01, 2005

Stealing this from Jen...mostly because her post involved the phrase "an asshole goat named Skittles." How can you not want to emulate that kind of quality writing?

Have You Ever...

Smoked a cigarette or tried it - Yes, several times in HS. Only a couple times in college when I was insanely drunk. Cigarettes are so gross, I don't know why I thought I should.

Crashed a friend's car - Nope.

Been dumped - I have been lucky enough to be the dump-er in all past break-ups.

Shoplifted - Never.

Been fired/laid off - No.

Been arrested - No. I am a very good, very boring girl.

Gone on a blind date - Yes, with a guy I met on the internet, no less. Sufficed to say that his photo indicated that he would be taller than me. I was wrong. I am 5'2"

Lied to a friend - Yes, but only when necessary. I'm pretty damn honest.

Skipped school - Never.

Seen someone die - Suddenly, no. Gradually, yes, and it tore my heart out.

Been to Canada - Yup, one night in the hotel at the Toronto airport. DAMN YOU, AIR CANADA. (shaking fists above head)

Been to Mexico - Yes, by land and by sea. Spent my 24th birthday in Cozumel.

Eaten sushi - Aaack! God no. Yuck.

Met someone in person from the internet - Yes, technically but let's put this in a blogger context. There are tons of bloggers that I'd like to meet. Maybe sometime in the future.

Taken pain-killer - Yes, I'm a regular codeine combo conduit. I've had everything but morphine, thanks to wisdom teeth and hip issues.

Had a tea party - Whuh? Maybe when I was little.

Cheated while playing a game - No.

Fallen asleep at work - Once a looong time ago, I took an accidental cat nap in a meeting. Fortunately a good friend was sitting next to me and gave me an upper arm pinch that nearly drew blood.

Used a fake ID - Yes, I actually had a REALLY good one in college. I looked JUST like her.

Felt an earthquake - No.

Touched a snake - No.

Been robbed - No, but once I went out to get in my car and realized someone had jumped all over the top of it. It looked as if bricks had fallen out of the sky and bounced off the roof of my poor little Suzuki. I had to get on my back in the back seat and kick all the dents out.

Petted a reindeer/goat - Yes on the goat, No on the reindeer.

Won a contest - I won a High Kick-off once at dance camp.

Been suspended from school - No.

Been in a car accident - a few more than I'd like to admit, only 1 of which was my fault.

Had braces - Yes for a year in high school. Not a good look, I'm afraid.

Eaten a whole pint of ice cream in one night - Duh. If you read this blog, then you're fully aware of the on/off torrid relationship I am having with Ben & Jerry.

Witnessed a crime - No.

Swam in the ocean - Yes, and hated every minute of it. I'm a lake person.

Sung karaoke - Yes. While I understand that it makes me categorically uncool, I love Karaoke. I have no inhibitions about being in front of crowds.

Paid for a meal with only coins - Definitely a couple times in a drive-thru.

Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose - Once with Diet Coke and OH MY JEEBUS did that burn.

Been kissed under mistletoe - Nope.

Crashed a party - No, not brave enough.

Worn pearls - Yes, one of my favorite stones.

Jumped off a bridge - No. Did I mention that I'm boring?

Ate dog/cat food - Tried a dog biscuit once on a dare. Not half bad...kind of like a Rye-Crisp.

Kissed a mirror - Nope. I'm typically not very turned on by my reflection.

Glued your hand to something - Not technically. I did super-glue the pads of my thumb and index finger together once, though. Not a good scenario.

Done a one-handed cartwheel - Yup. At one point, I could do aerials as well, but now I'm not as brave (and my center of gravity and overall body weight make it nearly impossible)

Talked on the phone for more than 6 hours - No. I'm not a phone person.

Didn't take a shower for a week - Absolutely not.

Picked and ate an apple right off the tree - This is a dumb question. Who wrote this?

Been told by a complete stranger that you're hot - Yes, an alarming amount of people thanks to my former hobbies, but let's take that with an ENORMOUS grain of salt. Moreover, I'm usually too stunned to take anyone seriously - there's always been someone else around who is WAY hotter than me.

Slightly Peeved

Pet Peeve #45: People who are unaware of their shoe size. This is particularly offensive in warmer months when their long, monkey toes overlap the front of their open-toed shoes. Flip flops, sandals, even soccer slides - they're meant to go UNDER your feet, everybody. Say it with me.



I just don't understand it.