Saturday, December 21, 2024
The Big Picture
We have actually been to a movie theater a few times over the past month! This is unusual, and our return has kind of reminded me why. There were literally twenty minutes of previews before the movies even started, and that's not even counting the damn Nicole Kidman ad. They were short on the liquid "butter" that is the only thing that makes movie theater popcorn worth eating, and the Coca Cola "remix" machines ran out of Diet Coke, leaving us with, like, Fanta and various fruit flavored syrups. And then there's the constant fear of being shot, which may just be me, but this is America, so it's on my mind.
But regardless, as to the actual substance of the movies, well, they were perfectly fine. We saw Moana 2 with my niece and nephew, and they were suitably entertained by it, which was all that mattered. I did not find the plotting to be all that compelling, but I enjoy a spunky heroine as much as the next person, and the animation was much higher quality than, say, everything I ever saw as a child. We also saw Wicked, which was honestly very well made. People want it to be on the level of a West Side Story when it's essentially Hairspray, but it was entertaining. The "Ozdust Ballroom" sequence goes on for what feels like years and some of the dancing is literally laugh out loud aggressive. On the other hand, Ariana Grande is really quite solid, even though as a general matter I despise her and her boyfriend Spongebob. And Cynthia Erivo has some lungs on her, to be sure. Did it need to be two and a half hours long? No, but essentially nothing does in my view, and it didn't feel super long.
Anyway, we left the house! Unlikely to be repeated, but lessons were learned.
Saturday, December 14, 2024
Well Hello There
I'm still here! It's been a crazy few weeks. I had to go to DC for work, where I did everything from taking people's coats and getting them nametags to chatting up state Attorneys General (hooray for weird plurals!) over veal I sincerely did not want to eat. Perhaps the most notable part of the experience was that hotels in DC were for some reasons thousands of dollars per night, which makes sense, because spending several days in DC is exactly as valuable as owning an economy car. It was also kind of nice that DC was about 30 degrees warmer than Chicago over this period, though I did have to come back eventually, and was absolutely not equipped with the coatage for that.
I've also been rehearsing extensively for my amateur theatrical for lawyers. Objectively it is insane that I spend this much time on something I will never be compensated for (and indeed even spend money on, as RFK Jr. costumes aren't free), but it does keep me off the streets. This year has a Back to the Future theme, I guess because we just found out that movie exists? Also, fart jokes. So if you happen to be in Chicago January 10-11 and want to spend $50 on something, let me know. Or just buy eggs; I hear they are killer expensive in Joe Biden's America.
Friday, November 29, 2024
Talking Turkey
As traumas go, having to go to a different buffet restaurant than the one you are used to for Thanksgiving is definitely not at the top of the list, but it did make things a little weird. Our normal Chicago spot got out of the game this year (no doubt due to Biden's War on Thanksgiving) so we had to go to a place my sister found out in the suburbs, which might as well have been on Mars. The food was fine and all, but we were in a banquet hall seated at rickety round tables that seemed likely to collapse at any given moment. Also, the buffet lines were insane and there were separate lines for the salad and carving stations. The end result of which was that I loaded up on mac and cheese (which was admittedly amazing) and called it a day. The kids had fun loading up on sugar and pretending they were puppies, though, so I guess it was a win.
After the big luncheon, we went out to Ian's parents' place, since they have relocated to the northwest suburbs from Minnesota. They are in a seniors-only community, which is kind of the dream. They have classes, entertainment, and a clubhouse with a very credible club sandwich. Plus you can drive your golf cart anywhere you want. It does give a little bit of a wife swapping vibe, but I'm sure that's optional. Anyway, we were just there for dessert and the rebroadcast of the Macy's parade, which gave us an opportunity to realize that we didn't even recognize the names of half of the pop stars featured. Ariana Madix singing The Cardigans I knew, though. It was like that one was aimed straight at my heart.
So yeah, Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I'm laying low today so as to avoid being crushed in a flat-screen-TV fracas, but that is something to be thankful for in and of itself.
Saturday, November 23, 2024
Sunshine State
I was in Florida for work this week. Fort Lauderdale, specifically. It was perfectly fine, particularly given that it snowed in Chicago, but I didn't see a ton of actual sun. Also, I found the suiting situation confusing. It was fall, but hot, so should I dress for the weather or the season? I just decided to put on jean shorts and call it a day.
The trip was for a conference, which was interesting and well-organized, but it is kind of exhausting to be attentive and interesting all day for three days. There were potential clients to be met, don't you know. So I made a lot of small talk about the weather, everyone's health, and likely white collar enforcement priorities for 2025. We are a fun group, to be sure.
Traveling will never not be the worst, though, am I right? Not the part about being other places, just the part about getting there. The flight there I had a talker sitting next to me who was impervious to my earbud trick and I couldn't get the outlet under the seat to work. The flight back we were delayed and had the endless taxi at O'Hare to top it off. We seriously landed at 6:30 and I wasn't off the plane until 7. At least this time I didn't get the gate mathematically calculated to be the absolute farthest from any sort of ground transport.
Anyway, I'm back, and looking forward to the holiday. I view three days as the optimal length for a work week.
Sunday, November 17, 2024
The Great Oak Park Bake Off
My sister's family enjoys watching Nailed It!, the show in which ordinary people fail at complex baking tasks. They decided they wanted to do their own personal live version. Though I've only seen the show in their presence while vigorously texting or playing Candy Crush on my phone, I agreed to join. The results were predictable yet no less glamorous.
This is what we were going for. To be clear, I'm not sure how much I think edible art contributes to society in the first place, but at least it's not another season of And Just Like That.
The children very much enjoyed their time playing with fondant. Also, saying fondant. It doesn't taste like much, but it's decent as construction material.
I helped to fashion these eyes, which were unfairly criticized as potentially too large. I say it's just the cakes that got small.
Here is the finished product, which looks to be melting before you. You cannot see quite as well that the back half is literally starting to fall off. Let's just brand that as a "self serving" cake.
Here it is post collapse. Definitely giving a Thanksgiving massacre vibe.
Still, it was tasty. I would say the mission was accomplished. And, I did not have to take any home with me, so all is well.
Friday, November 08, 2024
My Uneventful Absence
As you may have noticed, I've fallen into a pattern of weekend posting on here, which was interrupted last weekend for the simple but strange reason that I was not in possession of a functioning laptop. You see, my last day at one law firm was Friday, so that laptop was sitting on a receptionist's desk in the Loop. And though I have a personal laptop, it's probably a decade old and I haven't logged in to it in months or years. I did try, but succeeded only in accidentally changing multiple passwords and locking myself out of resources I routinely use. After which I took a break.
I started the new job last Monday (I never have been much for downtime) and am now back in business. Though perhaps you have heard that there were some other events this week that took on a certain prominence in my day to day. I shall not speak of them, as the world is hardly waiting for me to make sense of contemporary sociopolitical movements. That, of course, is why we turn to Whoopi Goldberg. But the point is, I am back and I am better than ever, or at least the first part of that.
Saturday, October 26, 2024
The Day of the Show, Y'all
Last night I hosted a fun show featuring several of my favorite performing friends. They all nailed it and I asked a few questions and then sat on a stool at the back of the stage watching them sing and looking awkward. It was great!
This is me hosting! The lighting people always do such a great job making me look like I somewhat belong there and am not just a crazy person.
Here's the whole crew! We did a couple of group numbers, including this "Fame" parody I wrote:
JAY: Baby, look at me
I am damn near fifty
Fighting gout, but back in the day
I was lead in six high school plays
And musicals.
I was in the local news
Next to ads for plastic shoes.
Celebrated by the Elks Club
They did not want no scrub!
I learned to lack shame.
Fame!
I thought I’d win seven Oscars
Maybe be a samurai.
Instead I work at a desk job
And hope I don’t get pinkeye.
ALL: Get pinkeye, get pinkeye, get pinkeye, get pinkeye.
CARISSA: You don’t have to tell me
I played fuckin’ Annie!
Belting in a forty-pound wig
The school paper said I’d be big
Like Dawson’s Creek.
LINDSEY: I grew up in LA
Land of celebs and gays
I once danced with Hillary Duff
And she was nice enough.
I know it seems lame.
ALL: Fame!
CARISSA: People said I’d go to Broadway
Turn tricks and cry as Fantine.
ALL: Fame!
LINDSEY: Somehow I became a lawyer
Driving to court in Moline.
ALL: In Moline, in Moline, in Moline, in Moline…
MELISSA: I trained in opera, bro,
While my friends went emo.
My Pirates of Penzance did slay
Plus I learned my Titian and Klee
In AP Art History.
PETER: Not to brag, but see
I’m on IMDb.
People said my theater BA
Would definitely pay!
But no one’s to blame.
ALL: Fame!
MELISSA: I could still be a contender
If I’d just lie ‘bout my age!
ALL: Fame!
PETER: I refused to do full frontal
For less than a living wage.
ALL: Fame!
LINDSEY: At least we’re all still performing.
CARISSA: I’m like a female Josh Gad!
ALL: Fame!
MELISSA: Day jobs are very fulfilling.
PETER: Nothing about this is sad.
ALL: It’s not sad, it’s not sad, it’s not sad, it’s not sad…
Of course, we forgot to practice our bows, and they were messy AF, but I consider that to just be a metaphor for life.
Sunday, October 20, 2024
Getting Festive
After railing against the very concept of fall, I went to a fall festival with my sister and her family this weekend. It was a lot. Things did not begin on a good note when I pulled into the wrong entrance and a woman with a lit cigarette dangling from her mouth reprimanded me vigorously, despite my seemingly uncontroversial position of complete capitulation and apology. But it did improve from there.
They had skeletons in unusual outfits! I assume these were not real human skeletons, but you never know. Perhaps dark secrets lie behind our autumnal celebrations.
They had a lot of these for the kids to pose in. And unlike pretty much everything else at this event, they were free. (The event operated on a ticket-based economy, like many a Dave & Busters and Lake Zurich Alpine Festival before it.)
We were not fortunate enough to see the Wheels of Agriculture Game Show, much less participate, but I can tell it was amazing from the name alone.
Maggie said she wanted to ride the camel, then got scared and refused to ride it after we had already forked over the tickets, then changed her mind again and said she wanted to ride it with her mother. This photo looks like they had a glorious time, but the constant fear and tension in my sister's face as she attempted to prevent her daughter from lurching off the camel's back are not pictured.
This sign was in the porta potty. Which ruined my day, let me tell you. Where else was I supposed to make my chicken fricassee?
Saturday, October 12, 2024
Fall Festival
I have to say, and perhaps have said before, that I have a hard time understanding people who love fall. When they invariably start in right after Labor Day on pumpkin spice and sweater weather, I just want to kick them in the crotch. First of all, pumpkin spice is completely synthetic with no relation to actual pumpkin, so you can pretty much have it any time of year. Second, sweater weather just means that you are cold, so why celebrate that? Also, your sweaters are probably ugly.
I am unabashedly a summer person, as I enjoy long days, sunshine, and drinking out of doors. I can understand enjoying spring, because the weather is nice and everything is blooming. Frankly, spring is just a thing that sort of doesn't exist in Chicago, because winter is roughly six months of the year. And I have yet to meet someone who wants to make the case for winter, unless wanting to die on the way to work every day is your thing. But fall has its partisans, no doubt. They complain about being hot in August and can't wait to go on a hayride and get out their Halloween decorations. This is, of course, morally repugnant.
Everything has its season, as they say, so I accept that fall and winter have a right to exist. I also understand the scientific principle of "different strokes for different folks," so I try my hardest to respect people who get off on having leaves crunch under their feet. But I would love if they could shut up about it a little bit. Pumpkin spice will never love you back, okay?
Sunday, October 06, 2024
Living History
Great news! When I was at my mom's house I discovered I had lovingly preserved several decades-old issues of the now-defunct magazine Entertainment Weekly. Shall we peruse the 100 greatest entertainers 1950-2000 issue from Winter 1999?
As it turns out, most of their calls are not laughable in retrospect. The Beatles at #1? Groundbreaking. Elvis at #2? You're probably not getting any angry letters on that one. But there are some inclusions that perhaps not aged as well. I mean, I enjoyed the X-Files as much as the next person, but not if the next person was on the staff at Entertainment Weekly, because I remember them doing approximately 2700 cover stories on that show. And it comes in at #76 on their list. Just ahead of Diana Ross at #79. Sorry, Ms. Ross, you had some hits, but no Cigarette Smoking Man.
And while we're on the subject, how is a TV show an "entertainer?" People are entertainers. Bands are arguably entertainers, though also arguably groups of entertainers. But shows are shows. And if we're including shows as entertainers, why X-Files, Star Trek, and Saturday Night Live, but not, say, The Dick Van Dyke Show or All in the Family? Or The Single Guy with Jonathan Silverman? Egregious oversights.
The all-new iMac! We had a lab full of them at my college. They looked less cute when you were up all night trying to finish that Major English Authors paper you put off to the last minute. I'm sure now they really brighten up the landfills, though.
Huge boxy TV! And woman who is probably not Julie Bowen but definitely there's a resemblance. Wearing clamdiggers. And a sweater. What a time it was to be alive!
They also did internet polls that they included in the issue, which were definitely very representative of the public at large. What figure loomed larger in '90s television than Seth Green? I mean, perhaps David Spade, but I just don't think he was given the same caliber of material. And this was before James Van der Beek became a meme.
I have no notes on the "Best Musical Group" poll.
Can I add that Meryl Streep (#38) was ranked below both Bill Cosby (#24) and Woody Allen (#26)? I mean, I know none of us were psychic, but did people really love Mighty Aphrodite that much? And Ghost Dad? Okay, that was unfair, Ghost Dad still slaps.
Saturday, September 28, 2024
Into the Woods
I'm at my mom's house in Quincy, which is literally in the middle of a giant woods, such that the threat of a tree falling on us has been a genuine concern for as long as I can remember. Also? Weeds and brush. My father was always fighting weeds and brush, which I felt certain would contain snakes. My mother has continued the battle, but with scrawnier arms she stands less of a chance. I assume the whole house will be reclaimed by nature some day, and this may be for the best.
Before that happens, I'm doing my best to rescue some of the things that are meaningful to me. So I'm taking lots of books and records (not in the corporate sense of books and records, though that one is good too) back to Chicago. I've got a two-volume set of the Folklore of Quincy and Adams County, which my dad worked on with the great folklorist Harry Hyatt (this is a real thing), weighing down the back of the Prius, along with some of my parents' marked-up copies of novels I like (Faulkner, Fielding, Vonnegut). And my grandfather had some pretty great records, at least in my view, since I have the taste of someone who's been deceased for over two decades. But since the CSO performing Charles Ives and Perry Como in Irving Berlin's Mr. President are probably not anyone else's jam, we should probably move along.
I tend to keep a pretty low profile while I'm in town, in the wake of repeatedly being running into people at Wal-Mart while buying Hot Pockets in sweatpants and a "My Other Car is Oprah" t-shirt. But we did get the dog out for not one but two walks and I got a nice run in. Also, I discovered that Uber Eats actually works here, so there was no need to dine publicly for sustenance. (Although I did have a carry-out incident that left me feeling like Kathy Bates in Fried Green Tomatoes, but I've vowed never to speak of it again.)
Back to Chicago tomorrow morning, assuming the Prius can bear this load...
Sunday, September 22, 2024
This & That
It's a rainy, gross day in Chicago, perfect for staying home and catching up on the various household tasks I've been neglecting. I have already swapped out the clothes in my closet for the season, changed two lightbulbs, and vacuumed up approximately thirteen tons of dog hair. And -- bonus! -- it turns out the hand vac I thought was dead after I accidentally sucked up a bunch of water has miraculously been revived. This is where never throwing anything away really begins to pay off.
The past week has been pretty glorious weather-wise, though, if you ask me. (And people do tend to frequently talk to me about the weather, so let's just go with it.) I've been out in the hammock a lot, guilt reading New Yorkers and discovering a hidden treasure trove of Ian's Tori Amos tracks in my iTunes. I've gotten some quality runs in, as well as some shitty ones that I was frankly just kind of phoning in. And my plants are thriving, which will no doubt be a nice consolation when Chicago weather throttles them to death in November.
It's been a surprisingly social weekend, too, with an anniversary party Friday, a birthday party yesterday afternoon, and an outdoor movie night last night. So today is about regrouping and resetting before the shock of Monday kicks in. One can never be truly ready, but I find a little bit of Unsolved Mysteries goes a long way.
Friday, September 13, 2024
Ridin' the Rails
I alluded to one part of our Canada trip that was not so great. Now let me be specific: we were stuck on a train from Montreal to Quebec City for 14 hours.
It was supposed to be just over a three hour journey, leaving at 8:30 in the morning and arriving at 11:45. We had heard that Quebec City was beautiful and worth a day trip. We had naively mapped out an itinerary of sights to see in an afternoon before catching a return train at 5:40. None of that was to be.
Instead, about forty minutes from Quebec City, the train stopped, and they announced they had to do "mechanical checks." (Well, they announced it in French first, which became important as time went on and we got to see the anguished reactions of the French speakers before we had any idea of the substance of each announcement.) We sat for probably about an hour before they announced that we would start moving again, but at a reduced speed. Fine.
During the stop, the train attendants had leapt into action, bribing us with disgustingly sticky "oat bars," pretzels, and soft drinks. They continued to charge for alcohol. Later, they would come to regret having gone through the food and drink so quickly, as an attendant roamed the aisle with the sole remaining cup of water on the train, offering it to anyone who was "about to pass out." But at this initial stage, our fellow passengers were obsequiously polite to the staff, repeatedly telling them "you're doing a great job" and "we know this isn't your fault." This, of course, would not last.
I should also add that we had discovered early in the journey that we were seated next to the restroom and that the door did not fully lock unless you really forced it hard, which nobody ever did. So we were presented with a choice between hearing repeated accidental bathroom ambushes go down and taking on the role of telling would-be pee-ers "There's somebody in there." We opted for the latter, which got a bit old over the course of 14 hours.
So as you can already surmise, our reduced speed journey did not last for more than about ten minutes. We stopped again and they did more checks. Ian looked out the window and saw train parts strewn in the grass near the train, which seemed an ill omen. They announced that another train was coming in forty minutes and would push us the rest of the way to Quebec City. This plan was jettisoned several hours later and we were told we were backing up onto some siding so other trains could pass.
At this point pandemonium erupted. A passenger began marching up and down the aisles yelling, "No! They can't do this to us! They're going to let those trains pass and just leave us here! I'm mad and you should be too!"
Perhaps she was part of the group of passengers that had missed the departure of their cruise while sitting on the train and were out several thousand dollars. Perhaps she didn't find the complimentary glass of champagne offered to those passengers sufficient recompense. But regardless, she yelled. And she had supporters, some of whom clapped feebly and another of whom literally said "she's saying what we're all thinking." Another, however, cautioned that "we're not going to get anything by yelling."
Throughout this period, the engineers had been getting on and off the train for their various mechanical checks. Because we weren't getting a ton of information from the staff, some passengers starting asking the engineers. One of whom started screaming in both French and English that everyone needed to sit down. At which point we heard a woman yell "he pushed me!" and "did you see that?" And of course camera phones started to roll. And then the same engineer aggressively snatched the phone out of another passenger's hand. And I turned to Ian and said "We're not involved. We're not involved."
Fortunately an attendant returned the phone and cooled things down a bit. Speaking of which, I should add that whenever the train's engine was off (which was frequent), the air conditioning did not work. And the water did not run, including in the bathrooms. So we had to add "there's no water in there" to our bathroom speech. Without being too gross, let us just say that toilets were reaching concerning levels.
As another aside, Michelle died. We had no idea who that was (I have confirmed that M. Obama and both M. Williamses are well) but an older passenger near us returned to her seat in tears and shared that information with her husband. Apparently Michelle was hit by a car. She was not a train passenger, it seems, but regardless, our condolences.
Regardless, the next plan we heard was that we were all going to be moved to another train that was on the way to Quebec City. But it would not be there for a little while, so we would have to be patient. (!) One lucky diabetic lady got to exit the train, however, when she shared that she was feeling lightheaded. She got an ambulance. Another lady followed behind her, pleading with the staff that she was "having psychosomatic symptoms" herself. No dice.
Anyway, the rescue train eventually got there and we were transferred car by car over to it. There were literally six firefighters (illuminated by a spotlight on what was by now a dark, rainy night) enlisted to help us step down two steps on our train, step over a gap that was about a foot wide, and climb up two steps on the other side. I don't know that I've ever seen a more dramatic scene in real life. I felt like one of the Chilean miners being pulled to safety. And yet, I required no help at all to make what was in fact a fairly unchallenging crossing. Except maybe their moral support, I guess? Anyway, they had better luck with the passenger in front of us, who was in a wheelchair and seemed quite leery of their efforts to heft him and his chair from one train to the other. He was safely delivered, and they literally gave themselves a round of applause.
On the new train, all was not exactly well. Lots of people had to stand in the aisles or sit on the floor, since the rescue train had already had passengers of its own. But the attendants were very excited because the rail company had enlisted the firefighters in delivering pizza to the train. So they marched down the aisles with single slices of pizza stacked between napkins and just randomly handed them to passengers. I was glad not to have any dietary restrictions, even if I didn't exactly love my slice of peppers and mushrooms. It absolutely served the purpose of keeping us from eating one another.
Ultimately, we arrived in Quebec City at about 10:45 PM, or eleven hours late. And our train back to Montreal, which had also been delayed, was now scheduled to depart at 11 PM. We looked for food in the train station, but nothing was open, so we settled for a bag of Miss Vickie's chips each from a vending machine. And we very happily loaded back on to our return train, which would not get back to Montreal until 2:30 in the morning. The crew of that train seemed very stoked to offer us the leftover cold pizza.
Anyway, we did not see Quebec City. Aside from the train station, which we do not recommend. But we made it out alive, and were entertained by the ensuing news coverage. Apparently the Canadian Minister of Rail weighed in and said that passengers deserve better. And we are allegedly to receive a full refund. But of course the real compensation is all of the friends we made along the way.
Saturday, September 07, 2024
Quebecois
And so the Montreal adventures continued, as you knew/feared they would.
At the archaeology and history museum, you were able to walk through all sorts of ruins from Montreal past, including this tricked out sewer tunnel. I never thought I'd see walking in a sewer as a feature rather than a bug, but they had thoughtfully cleared any and all human waste out.
There were so many cute stores in Old Montreal, including this one, where we didn't actually buy anything, but I'm sure they were happy just to have us take pictures there.
At the art museum, they encouraged you to take pictures with these cutouts. I do think I make an excellent severed head, and I shall update my resume accordingly.
I'm trying to figure out who should be most upset about these caricatures, but I'm really struggling. Daniel Craig looks a bit like Woody Allen, and Sean Penn like Einstein. Kirk Douglas should probably just be happy to be included.
I can't take a vacation without photographing churches. This one was across the street from our hotel, so low opportunity cost, as these things go.
Montreal hosted the Olympics in 1976. It left the city with $1.6 billion (Canadian) in debt and a string of corruption scandals, but the buildings still look kind of pretty.
The botanic garden has a variety of different spaces that purport to demonstrate what plants look like in other nations. This is supposed to be China, which checks out from my own very limited experience of that nation of 3.7 million square miles.
Here's a shot of Old Montreal I took from where were were having dinner. Something was dripping down the back of my neck from the umbrella above for the entire meal, but still, poutine is poutine.
