Damn. Exactly how high does one need to be in order to animate something like this? I don't know whether it's funny, or an incredibly disturbing metaphor meant for people that are more intelligent and insightful than myself.
Damn. Exactly how high does one need to be in order to animate something like this? I don't know whether it's funny, or an incredibly disturbing metaphor meant for people that are more intelligent and insightful than myself.
Taken from the lovely and talented Whoorl.
1. What curse word do you use the most? Goddamnit!
2. Do you own an iPod? Yes – a blue mini.
3. Who on your MySpace “Top 8” do you talk to the most? I ban MySpace. It is the trashiest thing on the internet.
4. What time is your alarm clock set for? 6:35 am.
5. What color is your room? Flat eggshell, courtesy of my shitty landlord.
6. Flip-flops or sneakers? SNEAKERS - because they don’t require a pedicure.
7. Would you rather take the picture or be in the picture? Take it.
8. What's the last movie you watched? The Great Outdoors. Classic.
9. Do any of your friends have children? No, not yet.
10. Has anyone ever called you lazy? Absolutely, but usually in jest.
11. Do you ever take medication to help you fall asleep faster? No, I don’t have trouble sleeping.
12. What CD is currently in your CD player? Queen’s Greatest Hits – the blue one
13. Do you prefer regular or chocolate milk? I dislike milk in general.
14. Has anyone told you a secret this week? Yes.
15. Have you ever given someone a hickey? Yes.
16. Who was the last person to call you? Sean.
17. Do you think people talk about you behind your back? Of course I do.
18. Did you watch cartoons as a child? Yes – mostly the girly ones…Jem, Rainbow Brite, and the Getalong Gang.
19. How many siblings do you have? 1 older sister.
20. Are you shy around the opposite sex? Yes - at least until I know them well.
21. What movie do you know every line to? Sleepless in Seattle, The Cutting Edge, ummm what other crappy movies can I admit to having memorized?
22. Do you own any band t-shirts? No, but I do still have an old, pathetic tee from the 1996 B96 Summer B-Bash. So sad.
23. What is your favorite salad dressing? Paul Newman’s Original Italian.
24. Do you read for fun? Yes, as much as I can.
25. Do you cry a lot? No.
26. Who was the last person to text message you? My dear friend Adam.
27. Do you have a desktop computer or a laptop? Neither – I blog from work. (gasp!)
28. Are you currently wanting any piercings or tattoo? I’ve long considered the tattoo issue. I’ll get one when I can find a spot on my body that isn’t (a) sexual in nature simply by proximity, and (b) able to be hidden with normal clothing.
29. What is the weather like? Humid, hot, and crappy. I hate summer.
30. Would you ever date someone covered in tattoos? Sure. Personality matters more than appearances.
31. Is sex before marriage wrong? Not wrong, but definitely something to think twice about. Once you go there with someone, you can never, ever go back.
32. When was the last time you slept on the floor? No idea.
33. How many hours of sleep do you need to function? 6 is my minimum – I try to sleep at least 7.5 or 8.
34. Are you in love or lust? Yes.
35. Are your days full and fast-paced? Not unless I’ve left something until the last minute.
36. Do you pay attention to calories on the back of packages? Only out of sheer curiosity.
37. How old will you be turning on your next birthday? 27
38. Are you picky about spelling and grammar? Yes, unbelievably so.
39. Have you ever been to Six Flags? Yes'm. Six Flags Great America in scenic Gurnee, IL.
40. Do you get along better with the same or opposite sex? Same.
41. Do you like cottage cheese? Absolutely not. It’s half-spoiled dairy product, people. How do you find this appealing?? How?!
42. Do you sleep on your side, tummy, or back? Stomach.
43. Have you ever bid for something on eBay? Yes.
44. Do you enjoy giving hugs? Depends on the person doling them out.
45. What song did you last sing out loud? "Taking the Long Way" by the Dixie Chicks.
46. What is your favorite TV show? CSI
47. Which celebrity, dead or alive, would you want to have lunch with? Having lunch with a dead person would seriously put me off my meal, so I guess I’ll pick Reese Witherspoon. She’s amiable enough.
48. Last time you had butterflies in your stomach? Last night - Sean stopped at Whole Foods to pick up dinner, and got me some Cajun Roasted Sweet Potatoes (my favorite!) even though he doesn't like/eat them.
49. What one thing do you wish you had? A soda fountain of Diet Coke in my apartment.
50. Favorite lyrics? The Power of Two by Indigo Girls.
1. What curse word do you use the most? Goddamnit!
2. Do you own an iPod? Yes – a blue mini.
3. Who on your MySpace “Top 8” do you talk to the most? I ban MySpace. It is the trashiest thing on the internet.
4. What time is your alarm clock set for? 6:35 am.
5. What color is your room? Flat eggshell, courtesy of my shitty landlord.
6. Flip-flops or sneakers? SNEAKERS - because they don’t require a pedicure.
7. Would you rather take the picture or be in the picture? Take it.
8. What's the last movie you watched? The Great Outdoors. Classic.
9. Do any of your friends have children? No, not yet.
10. Has anyone ever called you lazy? Absolutely, but usually in jest.
11. Do you ever take medication to help you fall asleep faster? No, I don’t have trouble sleeping.
12. What CD is currently in your CD player? Queen’s Greatest Hits – the blue one
13. Do you prefer regular or chocolate milk? I dislike milk in general.
14. Has anyone told you a secret this week? Yes.
15. Have you ever given someone a hickey? Yes.
16. Who was the last person to call you? Sean.
17. Do you think people talk about you behind your back? Of course I do.
18. Did you watch cartoons as a child? Yes – mostly the girly ones…Jem, Rainbow Brite, and the Getalong Gang.
19. How many siblings do you have? 1 older sister.
20. Are you shy around the opposite sex? Yes - at least until I know them well.
21. What movie do you know every line to? Sleepless in Seattle, The Cutting Edge, ummm what other crappy movies can I admit to having memorized?
22. Do you own any band t-shirts? No, but I do still have an old, pathetic tee from the 1996 B96 Summer B-Bash. So sad.
23. What is your favorite salad dressing? Paul Newman’s Original Italian.
24. Do you read for fun? Yes, as much as I can.
25. Do you cry a lot? No.
26. Who was the last person to text message you? My dear friend Adam.
27. Do you have a desktop computer or a laptop? Neither – I blog from work. (gasp!)
28. Are you currently wanting any piercings or tattoo? I’ve long considered the tattoo issue. I’ll get one when I can find a spot on my body that isn’t (a) sexual in nature simply by proximity, and (b) able to be hidden with normal clothing.
29. What is the weather like? Humid, hot, and crappy. I hate summer.
30. Would you ever date someone covered in tattoos? Sure. Personality matters more than appearances.
31. Is sex before marriage wrong? Not wrong, but definitely something to think twice about. Once you go there with someone, you can never, ever go back.
32. When was the last time you slept on the floor? No idea.
33. How many hours of sleep do you need to function? 6 is my minimum – I try to sleep at least 7.5 or 8.
34. Are you in love or lust? Yes.
35. Are your days full and fast-paced? Not unless I’ve left something until the last minute.
36. Do you pay attention to calories on the back of packages? Only out of sheer curiosity.
37. How old will you be turning on your next birthday? 27
38. Are you picky about spelling and grammar? Yes, unbelievably so.
39. Have you ever been to Six Flags? Yes'm. Six Flags Great America in scenic Gurnee, IL.
40. Do you get along better with the same or opposite sex? Same.
41. Do you like cottage cheese? Absolutely not. It’s half-spoiled dairy product, people. How do you find this appealing?? How?!
42. Do you sleep on your side, tummy, or back? Stomach.
43. Have you ever bid for something on eBay? Yes.
44. Do you enjoy giving hugs? Depends on the person doling them out.
45. What song did you last sing out loud? "Taking the Long Way" by the Dixie Chicks.
46. What is your favorite TV show? CSI
47. Which celebrity, dead or alive, would you want to have lunch with? Having lunch with a dead person would seriously put me off my meal, so I guess I’ll pick Reese Witherspoon. She’s amiable enough.
48. Last time you had butterflies in your stomach? Last night - Sean stopped at Whole Foods to pick up dinner, and got me some Cajun Roasted Sweet Potatoes (my favorite!) even though he doesn't like/eat them.
49. What one thing do you wish you had? A soda fountain of Diet Coke in my apartment.
50. Favorite lyrics? The Power of Two by Indigo Girls.
"...it's crazy, though, how you get used to having the kids around for, you know, 20 years or so...then you've got to get used to having them gone. And just when you think they're gone for good, one of them always comes back. You can't imagine the adjustment period Bill and I went through when Kevin came back home to live for awhile. He brought all his costumes, too, including a lot of high heels. We're still trying to figure out what THAT means."
So far, nothing remarkable. Many of us would change the way we looked that first semester.
Turns out long books don't take forever to read when they're stunning, well-worded, and about one of the most difficult times in American history. Another one for the "highly recommended" list.
Turns out long books don't take forever to read when they're stunning, well-worded, and about one of the most difficult times in American history. Another one for the "highly recommended" list.
There were the cheeses and pepper crackers. Several dips, including artichoke. A lovely white wine from the Bonny Doon vineyard. It was a respectable spread, although the cheese plate had a snow scene and was obviously meant to be used only at Christmas and probably for cookies. And the wine glasses didn't match.
I'm about half-way through and not liking this one at all. I just can't get into it, for whatever reason and I'm seriously losing my patience.
I'm about half-way through and not liking this one at all. I just can't get into it, for whatever reason and I'm seriously losing my patience.
Don't worry -- I still have inner monologue rants about the stupid CTA bus (like how I spent my morning commute with someone's crotch and half a pink polyester zipper basically in my face), and my sarcastic nature has not died. It' s just resting.
It's been a weird, weird week. I'm just treading water for now, waiting for it to wrap itself up. In the meantime, I will be posting photos in lieu of actual, coherent text. This past weekend, I took a personal field trip to Fertile Gardens to cheer myself up.
They have a lovely main garden and beautiful flowering plants, and they're practically next door to a Starbucks which is a good thing because the name "Fertile Gardens" creeps me out more than a little. I managed to get some pretty good shots taken.
It's been a weird, weird week. I'm just treading water for now, waiting for it to wrap itself up. In the meantime, I will be posting photos in lieu of actual, coherent text. This past weekend, I took a personal field trip to Fertile Gardens to cheer myself up.
They have a lovely main garden and beautiful flowering plants, and they're practically next door to a Starbucks which is a good thing because the name "Fertile Gardens" creeps me out more than a little. I managed to get some pretty good shots taken.
Click any photo to enlarge.
Oh, and if any of you internet fools out there rip off any of my photographs with your computer hacking skills (bowhunting skills, nun-chuk skills), I will find you and make you sorry. Stealing is wrong.
Each year in the spring, I get antsy and start up an art project. 75% of them get finished and stored away, the other 25% never come to fruition. None of them are ever any good, but a great diversion nonetheless. I blame this all on Sally Field who enrolled me in oil painting one summer - probably an attempt to get my obnoxious pre-teen ass out of the house. This year, doors have been on my mind a lot. If you let it develop, the notion of a door (as well as the object itself) becomes a complex metaphor for many things -- hospitality, privacy, self-expression, status, and interpersonal relationships.
I spent some time last weekend wandering Lincoln Park and Lakeview, taking pictures of doors. Residential, commercial, whatever. Then I remembered that some of the city's most beautiful doors are on the mausoleums at Graceland Cemetary- I'd been there once before. This historical cemetary is the resting place of so many Chicago and Midwestern magnates, it's almost ridiculous. Out of respect for the dead, I won't be posting any of the photos I took while I was there (save the one you see above, and only because it doesn't show a name). If you're curious, photos can be found on the municipal website. Among those buried here: Kimball, Potter-Palmer, Mies van der Rohe, Getty, Kinzie, Hubbard, Pullman, Burnham, Honoré, Goodman, Altgeld, Field, Wacker, Clark, and both of the former mayors Harrison.
History aside, the place is totally gorgeous. I drove in to find the Getty and Wolff doors (my two favorites) and leave...an hour later, I was still driving around in awe of the size and grandeur of some of the monuments. Big doors, iron doors, rusted doors, stone doors -- all of them closed, perhaps never to be opened again.
It got me wondering - why the big, huge, markers? Some of the mausoleums and gravestones are larger than my first apartment! Was it simply a representation of the exaggerated lifestyles of the people who are buried there, or was it something greater - vanity, perhaps? We all know you can't take it with you when you go, so why bother? I love Daniel Burnham's gravesite because it's a simple rock on the side of a beautiful hilly island. The man was an artist-- an architectural genius with a vision that continues to be developed today in our city. He chose a rock. Not a bunch of columns, or a stained glass window, or an ornate iron gate.
When I go, I want my family to be able to come back to something more than a stone box with a lock on the front. No doors for me - I think I'll just pick a rock.
Impossible to read at one sitting, but utterly unputdownable.
Did you know that only 3 American presidents fall under the "Leo" category of the zodiac? (Herbert Hoover, William Jefferson Clinton, and Benjamin Harrison) Clearly this is a sign that I need to get a jump on my campaign for the year 2035.
This is the perfect book for commuters who don't want to get so lost in a plot that they miss their stop. Also excellent for the ADHD population at large, as it jumps wildly (and seemingly without logical direction) from one topic to another.
Recently read...
The book was short and intense, much like the brief couplings that comprise the central relationship of this short story. I haven't seen the movie, but I'm guessing the screenplay attempts to answer a lot of the questions Proulx leaves hanging. Sexual orientation aside, the story is heartbreaking. I wholeheartedly recommend this.
I had two more epiphanies this morning. Don't worry - these little gems are FAR less pensive than my last post. No need to be frightened.
Epiphany #1: As of today, I can officially bid adieu to straight hair. Once summer hits, my only look is something reminiscent of post-disco Diana Ross. As a curly-headed girl, I dearly love my hair straight. It will be October before I can again sport the look you see here. (sob)
Epiphany #2: I love love love this dog. But you already knew that.
Epiphany #1: As of today, I can officially bid adieu to straight hair. Once summer hits, my only look is something reminiscent of post-disco Diana Ross. As a curly-headed girl, I dearly love my hair straight. It will be October before I can again sport the look you see here. (sob)
Epiphany #2: I love love love this dog. But you already knew that.
I like to consider myself a fairly confident person. On the rare occasion that I am not entirely sure of myself (or am too oblivious to reality to notice how incredibly unprepared/unqualified I am for something), I am lucky to have friends and family who aren't afraid to tell me that I'm being a complete asshat.
That being said, there's always an Achilles heel, no? Show me a person who claims to have no weakness of heart or mind, and I'll show you a liar. Mine is bravery -- namely, my own. Today, I saw a physically disabled man walking/jogging - discman and all. His legs were visibly deformed -- his khaki shorts a triple dog dare for anyone to look at them. As I metaphorically ate my slice of humble pie, it occurred to me how brave he is. I am often far too lazy to workout my fully-capable body at the expensive gym to which I belong.
As if that didn't make me feel poorly enough, I later saw a troupe of dancers at the Lake Red Line station. One hairy guy was playing an acoustic guitar, and 3 young women in street clothes were dancing to his music. They were dressed in a typical "dancer" fashion - cut up jersey pieces, legwarmers on one, 17 tank tops askew on the shoulders of another. They were so enraptured by their own kinetics, that it was as if they weren't even aware of their surroundings. As they bounced off steel columns, wooden benches, and yellow construction cones, they looked blissfully unaware of my judgment. Initially my reaction was, "You've got to be kidding me - what is this?! Some live modern dance project for college?" Judgmental, I know. My open disregard for modern dance is another topic for another day. Then it occurred to me that I have no place to judge them - my days as a dancer and dance instructor are regrettably behind me. What makes me an expert - I'm clearly jealous in a way, but not? Who the hell am I to sit in judgement of them? Humbled again.
Then the gears in my mind continue to turn, and the inevitable question surfaces again: Have I been brave enough? Am I really a weak person in a strong person's suit? Where do I fall on the brave continuum? How do you know when you've been brave, or do you have to wait until you make the easy decision, only to regret it? (For those of you wonderful folks out there who subscribe to the mantra "Life is too short for regrets," that really great and all, but I'm not there yet.) Moreover, aren't I a bit young to be having this crisis of conscience repeatedly? The whole point of youth is to get messy, make mistakes, and ride the rollercoaster learning curve that is adulthood.
Was I so worried about growing up that I missed the point entirely? I don't know which is more painful to think about: the questions, or the answers.
That being said, there's always an Achilles heel, no? Show me a person who claims to have no weakness of heart or mind, and I'll show you a liar. Mine is bravery -- namely, my own. Today, I saw a physically disabled man walking/jogging - discman and all. His legs were visibly deformed -- his khaki shorts a triple dog dare for anyone to look at them. As I metaphorically ate my slice of humble pie, it occurred to me how brave he is. I am often far too lazy to workout my fully-capable body at the expensive gym to which I belong.
As if that didn't make me feel poorly enough, I later saw a troupe of dancers at the Lake Red Line station. One hairy guy was playing an acoustic guitar, and 3 young women in street clothes were dancing to his music. They were dressed in a typical "dancer" fashion - cut up jersey pieces, legwarmers on one, 17 tank tops askew on the shoulders of another. They were so enraptured by their own kinetics, that it was as if they weren't even aware of their surroundings. As they bounced off steel columns, wooden benches, and yellow construction cones, they looked blissfully unaware of my judgment. Initially my reaction was, "You've got to be kidding me - what is this?! Some live modern dance project for college?" Judgmental, I know. My open disregard for modern dance is another topic for another day. Then it occurred to me that I have no place to judge them - my days as a dancer and dance instructor are regrettably behind me. What makes me an expert - I'm clearly jealous in a way, but not? Who the hell am I to sit in judgement of them? Humbled again.
Then the gears in my mind continue to turn, and the inevitable question surfaces again: Have I been brave enough? Am I really a weak person in a strong person's suit? Where do I fall on the brave continuum? How do you know when you've been brave, or do you have to wait until you make the easy decision, only to regret it? (For those of you wonderful folks out there who subscribe to the mantra "Life is too short for regrets," that really great and all, but I'm not there yet.) Moreover, aren't I a bit young to be having this crisis of conscience repeatedly? The whole point of youth is to get messy, make mistakes, and ride the rollercoaster learning curve that is adulthood.
Was I so worried about growing up that I missed the point entirely? I don't know which is more painful to think about: the questions, or the answers.
Well our beloved Cubs did not win yesterday's game against the Washington Nationals. Speaking of which, doesn't anyone in the state of Washington get angry about this colloquially incorrect naming convention? Shouldn't it be the District of Columbia Nationals, or more casually, the Washington D.C. Nationals? Regardless, the Cubs got their asses handed to them on a platter. So much so that we left mid-eighth inning so we could beat the crowds and get ourselves some dinner.
The thing I love most about my friends is that they share my denial when it comes to the reality of us becoming adults. We refuse to believe that our personal and professional development is the reason that we can almost never find time to hang out. Turns out that the best time for us to hang out is IN THE MIDDLE OF A WORKDAY. Who knew?! We were so excited to be together, all in one place, and drinking beer that we didn't even watch the first 4 innings of the game.
No, seriously. At one point, Jen turned to me and asked if it was a bad thing to clap along with the home crowd, if she had no earthly idea what had just happened to warrant said clapping. I didn't have a good answer. That topic quickly faded as the beer man came around, and winked at me. A heated debate followed as to the intended recipient of the cheesy wink, and it was not Kate as I had hoped. It was me. This was confirmed when he came by later, and actually used the line, "Ok, I'll need to see your ID and your phone number." Wink. Barf.
Because I'm not as quick on my feet as I would like to be, I didn't respond with anything funny like, "Do you actually ever get chicks with that line?" or "Once you see my ID, you won't want my phone number." I just laughed with the tone of, "You are scary, please give me my Budweiser and walk away." But he didn't walk away - instead, he whipped out 4 bumper-sticker-like promotional flyers about how he's DJ'ing at Zentra this weekend. Apparently his DJ alter ego is "DJ Chilla."
Spare me. We accepted the flyers, I made the Kates put them in their purses so as not to be rude...then we waited the obligatory 15 seconds to allow him to walk away before we judgmentally ripped into him and cackled aloud like the sometimes-trixies that we are. It's true, so you can SUCK IT if you think I'm a bitch, internet land. Anyone who comes at me with a line like that is putting himself on the chopping block.
After we left the stadium, we headed over to Sports Corner b/c we knew we could not only get a table, but I could also order my beloved Buffalo Chicken Wrap. Following dinner, we headed back to my place and got sucked into a lifetime movie - which is pretty much par for the course. Two hours later we were only sort of sober, and mostly just tired so we parted ways.
All in all, it was a great day.
Productivity, that is. I took today off to attend the Cubs game, but realized upon waking up this morning that I would have extra WEEKDAY hours in which to accomplish those things I've been putting off for weeks. It is not yet 11:30 am, and I have already picked up my dry cleaning, picked up custom dyed shoes for Jen's wedding, run to the pet store for dog food, done the dishes, gone to the ATM, and done one load of laundry. BOOYAH.
Then it hit me: this is what I miss most about working from home. It wasn't so much that I got a lot of WORK done, per se, but there was always the option of running out for an hour or so to get. shit. done. "Working from home" (at least for me) was more like manning my phone while watching Oprah. Sure, I geared up big time in the weeks preceding an event I was coordinating, but the rest of the time was just housekeeping. I could always jump in my car and run to Sonic, Kinko's, or the grocery store. Getting things done was/is like a drug for me - I know this isn't the first time I've blogged about it.
I'm flabbergasted at how much I could get done if I just took one day off each month, to get my act together -- not that I'm going to do it, but it did cross my mind a couple hundred times. Just thinking about it makes me want to switch careers and become something home-based, like say...a writer, a photographer, or perhaps even a SAHM someday. THIS PRODUCTIVITY BUSINESS IS ADDICTIVE, I TELL YOU.
Then it hit me: this is what I miss most about working from home. It wasn't so much that I got a lot of WORK done, per se, but there was always the option of running out for an hour or so to get. shit. done. "Working from home" (at least for me) was more like manning my phone while watching Oprah. Sure, I geared up big time in the weeks preceding an event I was coordinating, but the rest of the time was just housekeeping. I could always jump in my car and run to Sonic, Kinko's, or the grocery store. Getting things done was/is like a drug for me - I know this isn't the first time I've blogged about it.
I'm flabbergasted at how much I could get done if I just took one day off each month, to get my act together -- not that I'm going to do it, but it did cross my mind a couple hundred times. Just thinking about it makes me want to switch careers and become something home-based, like say...a writer, a photographer, or perhaps even a SAHM someday. THIS PRODUCTIVITY BUSINESS IS ADDICTIVE, I TELL YOU.
I am acutely aware that my blog has been sort of bland over the past couple of weeks. I would say that I'm working on it, but that would be a lie. Truth be told, I'm just busy right now and, oddly enough, certain things going on in my life are more important than my nonsensical, daily babblings.
This is why I find myself somewhat jealous of mommy bloggers. Something zany is always going on when you have children. When you're a single with no offspring, it's a bit more difficult. There are only so many things I can write about my dog, people.
I'm off to a Cubs game tomorrow with my road dawgs J, K, and K. Sean comes home on Friday from a 2-week absence (yay!), and after one lazy weekend I should be back into the swing of things. Until then, you're just going to have to read my shoddy drivel.
This is why I find myself somewhat jealous of mommy bloggers. Something zany is always going on when you have children. When you're a single with no offspring, it's a bit more difficult. There are only so many things I can write about my dog, people.
I'm off to a Cubs game tomorrow with my road dawgs J, K, and K. Sean comes home on Friday from a 2-week absence (yay!), and after one lazy weekend I should be back into the swing of things. Until then, you're just going to have to read my shoddy drivel.
Tonight I will attend a dinner in honor of my father's retirement. They are throwing him a dinner party to celebrate 34 years with his employer (a global consumer packaged goods company) . My entire life has been littered with intermittent stories of his work - people, holiday parties to be attended, and for a few years he traveled all over the world and would be gone for long stretches of time. I've babysat his coworkers' babies - they are all grown now, and a few are headed off to college. To say that this makes me feel old is the understatement of the year.
My father is the most straightforward, ethically sound, quietly affectionate man I have ever met. He has worked since the age of 13 when he sold photographic equipment at a store our family used to own, in central Illinois. He did payroll during his time in the US Army, worked in the White House, and even laid railroad ties one summer. He's my mentor, ALWAYS calls me out on my bullshit, and has no patience whatsoever for people who don't respect others. He's an amazing father, a loving and supportive husband to my equally fabulous mother, and he's about to step into completely unknown territory. Days filled with crossword puzzles, tv documentaries, and grandchildren will soon replace his 50-60 hour work week, suits, and statistical data. What is a simple rite of passage - nay, a relief - for many will be an enormous undertaking for him.
I've spent most of my young adult life hearing, "You are just like your father." It is true on some levels - I have his hair (color and type), his short temper, and his freckly arms. My sister got his nose, his laid back nature, and his ability to pick things up with his feet.
For better or worse, I couldn't ask for a better compliment.
My father is the most straightforward, ethically sound, quietly affectionate man I have ever met. He has worked since the age of 13 when he sold photographic equipment at a store our family used to own, in central Illinois. He did payroll during his time in the US Army, worked in the White House, and even laid railroad ties one summer. He's my mentor, ALWAYS calls me out on my bullshit, and has no patience whatsoever for people who don't respect others. He's an amazing father, a loving and supportive husband to my equally fabulous mother, and he's about to step into completely unknown territory. Days filled with crossword puzzles, tv documentaries, and grandchildren will soon replace his 50-60 hour work week, suits, and statistical data. What is a simple rite of passage - nay, a relief - for many will be an enormous undertaking for him.
I've spent most of my young adult life hearing, "You are just like your father." It is true on some levels - I have his hair (color and type), his short temper, and his freckly arms. My sister got his nose, his laid back nature, and his ability to pick things up with his feet.
For better or worse, I couldn't ask for a better compliment.
Things that I simply do not understand:
1. The mother/beggar outside my place of employment. She only begs to men. Additionally, she has trained her toddler (complete in umbrella stroller) to repeatedly shriek, "Help me! Help me!" This makes it difficult for me to feel any compassion for her situation. It's also really irritating.
2. Dry cleaning. If water and soap never truly come into contact with the fabric, how is it clean? Steam is water, yes...but it's not really being cleaned, is it? Someone please explain this to me.
3. Peanut Butter Hersheys Kisses. WHY IN GOD'S NAME are they so good?
4. People who operate under a delusional sense of entitlement. Enough said.
5. Powerpoint. OH, POWERPOINT, how I loathe thee.
1. The mother/beggar outside my place of employment. She only begs to men. Additionally, she has trained her toddler (complete in umbrella stroller) to repeatedly shriek, "Help me! Help me!" This makes it difficult for me to feel any compassion for her situation. It's also really irritating.
2. Dry cleaning. If water and soap never truly come into contact with the fabric, how is it clean? Steam is water, yes...but it's not really being cleaned, is it? Someone please explain this to me.
3. Peanut Butter Hersheys Kisses. WHY IN GOD'S NAME are they so good?
4. People who operate under a delusional sense of entitlement. Enough said.
5. Powerpoint. OH, POWERPOINT, how I loathe thee.
Wedding season is upon us, and sadly, I have no idea what to wear. I ordered a dress for my dear friend Emily's wedding - a fabulous one because IN SPITE of what my attitude towards fashion SHOULD be, part of me just wants to look amazing in front of my sorority sisters. Score 1 for vanity, 0 for Jamie.
The dress is gorgeous - black silk, empire waisted, with fuchsia silk spaghetti piping -- halter top - from the ribs up, it actually looks a bit like a designer bikini. This is problematic, actually, because while the dress looks amazing on me, it's very...well...as my friends would say, "boob-a-licious." The girls are definitely making an appearance - I even did a preliminary Y-M-C-A to make sure all would be contained on the dance floor. It's a risk.
How much decolletage does one show at a more conservative event, like a wedding, without appearing tacky or trashy?
The dress is gorgeous - black silk, empire waisted, with fuchsia silk spaghetti piping -- halter top - from the ribs up, it actually looks a bit like a designer bikini. This is problematic, actually, because while the dress looks amazing on me, it's very...well...as my friends would say, "boob-a-licious." The girls are definitely making an appearance - I even did a preliminary Y-M-C-A to make sure all would be contained on the dance floor. It's a risk.
How much decolletage does one show at a more conservative event, like a wedding, without appearing tacky or trashy?
Do you ever go through something that makes you long for the past? I don't look back often - in fact, I hardly remember certain things that I was sure were going to chnage my life profoundly at the time - but every now and then, I get nostalgic. It starts like a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach, and develops into something that is almost unbearable. Not regret, necessarily, but the feeling of wishing I could just hop back a 2 years, 4, or maybe a decade.
I had some serious pangs of nostalgia this morning, sitting in my meeting. I think it must have been the rain...I don't know, all of a sudden I really missed a time in elementary school when my paternal grandmother was staying at our house. She died when I was still relatively young, and sometimes I have trouble remembering her.
A more emo, fuzzy person would say something lame like, "Your grandmother's spirit is in the rain," but I can't explain it away that simply. Something about the rain really reminded me of her, and suddenly I wanted so badly to go back and just say hi or something. It was weird.
I had some serious pangs of nostalgia this morning, sitting in my meeting. I think it must have been the rain...I don't know, all of a sudden I really missed a time in elementary school when my paternal grandmother was staying at our house. She died when I was still relatively young, and sometimes I have trouble remembering her.
A more emo, fuzzy person would say something lame like, "Your grandmother's spirit is in the rain," but I can't explain it away that simply. Something about the rain really reminded me of her, and suddenly I wanted so badly to go back and just say hi or something. It was weird.
Newsflash: Jamie, thought previously to be dead due to lack of postings on blog, has been found and is alive and well. She has been busy doing things that don't involve the internet (gasp!) and trying furiously to keep her head above water, her checkbook from self-destructing, and her sense of humor intact.
She sends her congratulations to her sister upon the event of her graduation. She's a master now, baby!
In entertainment news, the third annual "Beer for Boobs" fundraiser was held at Joe's Bar on Weed Street. Beer was indeed the star of the show, causing Jamie to stop imbibing around midnight and immediately switch to Diet Coke in a "too little, too late" attempt at self-preservation. The evening also included people known as Monkey and Bear, and wandering the aisles of Jewel-Osco at 2am. All proceeds will be go towards the fundraising efforts of a recently formed group, "Ya Yas for Ta Tas."
This morning proved to be a difficult one, as Jamie was found spooning with her unusually long, labrador mix dog in bed. She claims the spooning was inadvertant, but with a dog this cute, who knows? Sometimes a warm body is just that.
Upcoming: A week-long, offsite conference that must be attended, where Jamie will struggle daily NOT to surf the internet during hands-on technology presentations.
She sends her congratulations to her sister upon the event of her graduation. She's a master now, baby!
In entertainment news, the third annual "Beer for Boobs" fundraiser was held at Joe's Bar on Weed Street. Beer was indeed the star of the show, causing Jamie to stop imbibing around midnight and immediately switch to Diet Coke in a "too little, too late" attempt at self-preservation. The evening also included people known as Monkey and Bear, and wandering the aisles of Jewel-Osco at 2am. All proceeds will be go towards the fundraising efforts of a recently formed group, "Ya Yas for Ta Tas."
This morning proved to be a difficult one, as Jamie was found spooning with her unusually long, labrador mix dog in bed. She claims the spooning was inadvertant, but with a dog this cute, who knows? Sometimes a warm body is just that.
Upcoming: A week-long, offsite conference that must be attended, where Jamie will struggle daily NOT to surf the internet during hands-on technology presentations.
CELEBRITY SIGHTING! CELEBRITY SIGHTING!
Okay, so this is apparently THE week for celebs in Chicago. Moving from the Z-list (the eHarmony couple) to the D-list....
So there I was in the Nordstrom mall on Michigan Avenue, just minding my own business. Got onto the escalator, the awkwardly weighted bag I was carrying pitched forward just a tad and bumped the ass of the woman standing in front of me. Being the uber-polite midwesterner that I am, I quickly apologized. The woman turned around to ensure me that all was fine and it...was...
Jen Schefft from the Bachelor and Bachelorette or whatever the HELL they're calling those shows now. Since I firmly believe that celebrities (however minor) are entitled to a normal life, I didn't take a photo with my cell phone. Sorry. Instead I will post this photo that I hijacked from some other website.
As we were leaving the mall, she slipped her sunglasses onto her head. They were so big that it defies description. Let's just say that if I were to replicate them, I would use popsicle sticks and saucers. What is up with that trend, anyhow?!
Okay, so this is apparently THE week for celebs in Chicago. Moving from the Z-list (the eHarmony couple) to the D-list....
So there I was in the Nordstrom mall on Michigan Avenue, just minding my own business. Got onto the escalator, the awkwardly weighted bag I was carrying pitched forward just a tad and bumped the ass of the woman standing in front of me. Being the uber-polite midwesterner that I am, I quickly apologized. The woman turned around to ensure me that all was fine and it...was...
Jen Schefft from the Bachelor and Bachelorette or whatever the HELL they're calling those shows now. Since I firmly believe that celebrities (however minor) are entitled to a normal life, I didn't take a photo with my cell phone. Sorry. Instead I will post this photo that I hijacked from some other website.
As we were leaving the mall, she slipped her sunglasses onto her head. They were so big that it defies description. Let's just say that if I were to replicate them, I would use popsicle sticks and saucers. What is up with that trend, anyhow?!
I find it interesting when I realize my life has been influenced by others. Not the broad strokes, necessarily, but more specific things. Like the time, in junior high, when I was made fun of constantly for my vocabulary -- my parents have a large, and varied, combined vocabulary that is entirely to blame for my status as a social pariah. (It may also have something to do with my not being smart enough to stop talking like a 64-year old) I was using medical terminology and phrases like "The bloom is off the rose," when other kids my age were saying "gnarly," and "party hearty, dudeperson."
It happened again today - a small epiphany this time. I went to grab lunch to bring back to my desk. I walked into the building at 12:30, and it was 12:43 when I was done eating. WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND NEEDS TO EAT THAT FAST?! I wasn't even that hungry, and I'm definitely regretting it now.
I blame the speed eating on Sean, although it's been an unconscious transition. He's usually done eating by the time I've finished my salad. He's such a quick eater that I have often wondered how he does it without looking crazy and/or rude. He really pulls it off. Mind you, it doesn't bother me. What do I care? Eat however you want to eat, POWER TO THE PEOPLE. But I never expected the habit to rub off on me. Odd.
Does anyone have Tums? My stomach hurts.
It happened again today - a small epiphany this time. I went to grab lunch to bring back to my desk. I walked into the building at 12:30, and it was 12:43 when I was done eating. WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND NEEDS TO EAT THAT FAST?! I wasn't even that hungry, and I'm definitely regretting it now.
I blame the speed eating on Sean, although it's been an unconscious transition. He's usually done eating by the time I've finished my salad. He's such a quick eater that I have often wondered how he does it without looking crazy and/or rude. He really pulls it off. Mind you, it doesn't bother me. What do I care? Eat however you want to eat, POWER TO THE PEOPLE. But I never expected the habit to rub off on me. Odd.
Does anyone have Tums? My stomach hurts.
CELEBRITY SIGHTING! CELEBRITY SIGHTING!
I left work around 6:30 last night, and the sun was in the process of setting which gave Michigan Avenue a warm, yellow glow. I got on the bus, took off my sunglasses, and flipped on my iPod. Yes, I am a walking stereotype. Bite me.
At the corner of Michigan and Pearson, where all the really good tulips are, I looked up and saw....(wait for it)...THAT OVERTANNED, OLDER COUPLE FROM THE eHARMONY COMMERICIALS. You know - the guy looks like a biker whose upper body could stop a speeding train, and the woman is super blond and oddly perky?? Are you with me? Turns out they are even more tan in real life. I tried to find a picture to post with this, but that would have required surfing the eHarmony site, and I wasn't prepared to explain that to my co-workers.
And the worst of it -- they were stopped by a bed of tulips, holding hands, and smelling the flowers. I KNOW. VOM. I looked around quickly for a camera crew, a friend with a camera, SOMETHING that would justify this ridiculously cliche moment. But, no. Nothing. Is it completely cynical of me to think that maybe, in some small measure, that they're kidding themselves? Or worse yet, pretending? I guess online dating must work...maybe too well, in some cases.
I stifled a laugh, breathed an enormous sigh of relief that I'm not single, and went home.
I left work around 6:30 last night, and the sun was in the process of setting which gave Michigan Avenue a warm, yellow glow. I got on the bus, took off my sunglasses, and flipped on my iPod. Yes, I am a walking stereotype. Bite me.
At the corner of Michigan and Pearson, where all the really good tulips are, I looked up and saw....(wait for it)...THAT OVERTANNED, OLDER COUPLE FROM THE eHARMONY COMMERICIALS. You know - the guy looks like a biker whose upper body could stop a speeding train, and the woman is super blond and oddly perky?? Are you with me? Turns out they are even more tan in real life. I tried to find a picture to post with this, but that would have required surfing the eHarmony site, and I wasn't prepared to explain that to my co-workers.
And the worst of it -- they were stopped by a bed of tulips, holding hands, and smelling the flowers. I KNOW. VOM. I looked around quickly for a camera crew, a friend with a camera, SOMETHING that would justify this ridiculously cliche moment. But, no. Nothing. Is it completely cynical of me to think that maybe, in some small measure, that they're kidding themselves? Or worse yet, pretending? I guess online dating must work...maybe too well, in some cases.
I stifled a laugh, breathed an enormous sigh of relief that I'm not single, and went home.
I'm a strange girl, I admit. As much as I conform to certain trends, there are others that I simply don't subscribe to. Because I am first (and foremost) a dancer, I usually see movement in my head the first time I hear any song...any time I hear a song, for that matter. I can't explain it - it just happens. My sister suffers from the same affliction. We both unconsciously bob our heads, move our arms, and do other wacky things in response to certain auditory and visual stimuli. Most times, we have no idea we're doing it.
Occasionally, I will come across a piece of music that I have a strong reaction to. Works that fall into this category are "Hero of the Day" by Metallica, "Simple Things" by Aaron Copland, "Secret World" by Peter Gabriel, and one random bit of the "Thirtysomethings" soundtrack. (Hey, I didn't say it was all critically acclaimed)
The newest in my long, and sadly undocumented, list of powerful songs is "Taking the Long Way" by the Dixie Chicks. Don't laugh - their new album is apparently quite fresh and a bit sassy. From what I've heard thus far, it pretty much flies in the face of all the things we think we know about their views, their musical ability, and their image. This particular track has definite Tom Petty influences to it - and who can say no to that?
Occasionally, I will come across a piece of music that I have a strong reaction to. Works that fall into this category are "Hero of the Day" by Metallica, "Simple Things" by Aaron Copland, "Secret World" by Peter Gabriel, and one random bit of the "Thirtysomethings" soundtrack. (Hey, I didn't say it was all critically acclaimed)
The newest in my long, and sadly undocumented, list of powerful songs is "Taking the Long Way" by the Dixie Chicks. Don't laugh - their new album is apparently quite fresh and a bit sassy. From what I've heard thus far, it pretty much flies in the face of all the things we think we know about their views, their musical ability, and their image. This particular track has definite Tom Petty influences to it - and who can say no to that?
To the man on the bus this morning:
When the driver says, "Please step all the way to the back of the bus, PLEASE step back everybody," he's talking to you. Since he's busy driving the rather large and cumbersome vehicle, he can't address you and your enormous rolling suitcase directly. Sufficed to say that when the rest of the bus is halfway crowded, and many people are climbing on at each stop, YOU DON'T STAND AT THE DOORWAY WITH YOUR HUGE SUITCASE BLOCKING THE AISLE AND LISTEN TO YOUR DAMN iPOD WITH YOUR LEATHER-CLAD BACK TO THE DOOR. You take your jackass self and move it back, just like all the rest of us sheep.
Just a thought,
Jamie
P.S. Next time, take a cab.
When the driver says, "Please step all the way to the back of the bus, PLEASE step back everybody," he's talking to you. Since he's busy driving the rather large and cumbersome vehicle, he can't address you and your enormous rolling suitcase directly. Sufficed to say that when the rest of the bus is halfway crowded, and many people are climbing on at each stop, YOU DON'T STAND AT THE DOORWAY WITH YOUR HUGE SUITCASE BLOCKING THE AISLE AND LISTEN TO YOUR DAMN iPOD WITH YOUR LEATHER-CLAD BACK TO THE DOOR. You take your jackass self and move it back, just like all the rest of us sheep.
Just a thought,
Jamie
P.S. Next time, take a cab.