the ocean

Men at Work

Why is it that whenever I take a day off from work I end up feeling as though I have actually worked six days? Oh, that's right, because my parents are generally involved. They arrived last night and immediately insisted on a trip to an incredibly touristy pizza restaurant where I was assaulted by a gang of five-year-olds wielding crayons. Then they took in the show I'm currently acting in, which features four separate scenes where I play a sorority girl and one in which I utter six different words for the vajayjay. Needless to say, there were some interesting conversations afterwards.

Today we went to the Cubs game, where we spent half of the game basking the the wit and wisdom of the ten drunken Brewers fans in the row in front of us, and the other half huddling together for warmth and hoping not to be caught on the Fan Cam. Afterwards we went to the Art Institute, where I convinced my sister that camera phones weren't allowed, so she would have to "create a diversion" while I captured a shot of her favorite Paul Klee. We also took a first-ever look at the "decorative arts" section, which apparently means chairs. I wouldn't have wanted to sit during the Baroque period, I'll tell you that.

We also had a forty-five minute train ride home, during which one crazy person was arrested and another crazy person spent the entire trip screaming about her parole violations into a cell phone. But enough about my parents, ha ha. It's 11:30 on a Saturday and I'm going to bed.

At the Movies

Last night I went to the movies and ended up sitting a few seats down from a couple who had brought essentially an entire restaurant with them to the multiplex. I thought it was odd that they had such large bookbags with them, but figured that maybe they'd come directly from work or their monthlong European vacation. As it turned out, though, they needed the extra baggage space to hold the multiple foul-smelling and surprisingly loud courses of their meal. Seriously, why should a person abandon all the comforts of home simply because he can't resist the siren song of George Clooney? Why shouldn't a person wipe nacho cheese all over the back of someone else's armrest? Next time I check out a flick I'm definitely bringing my crock pot.

Classics Department

Having finished off most of the hilarious on-demand dating profiles (SassyGirl52, we hardly knew thee) and run out of enthusiasm for Maroon 5 Month on on-demand videos, I've lately been turning to the on-demand movies. Sure, some of the selection leaves something to desire (did we really need both The Mangler and The Mangler 2?), but there are also some real winners. Last week I watched On The Waterfront, which took me back to an era when dialogue still crackled and Marlon Brando still had a jawline. I also especially enjoyed Karl Malden's nose, which has never really been duplicated, even by Ashlee Simpson, in the entire history of cinema. And a few weeks ago I rewatched Rear Window, which is hilarious simply for the premise that Jimmy Stewart, of all people, has cold feet about marrying Grace fucking Kelly. Yes, sitting all alone in your tiny apartment with that camera is much more fun than getting it on with probably the most attractive woman of all time, Jimmy. Man, the 1950s were a great time to be a relatively undistinguished-looking man.

Of course, I spent the morning toggling back and forth between She's The Man, Jawbreaker, and First Daughter, so don't worry, I haven't gone all classy on you. I still put my diamond studded culottes on one leg at a time just like anybody else.

Wow! What Great Ideas!

I asked, and the readers responded. My guess is that most of the topic suggestions I received were in jest (I don't think "fuck you" really counts as a topic, though it is sort of a suggestion), but I'm going to tackle them anyway. Here goes nothing:

1) "What about an ode to T's garlic mayonnaise fries? Yummmmm." (number of M's approximate)

T's does indeed have the most wonderful garlic mayonnaise fries of any lesbian bar this side of the Mississippi, even if I can feel my arteries clogging as I eat them, and even if they may have been responsible for me thinking I might vomit in the middle of a lesbian bar. The secret ingredient? Pounds of mayonnaise. Doctors recommend eating three servings a day, though these particular doctors are currently under investigation by the state of Illinois.

2) "Perhaps an amusing anecdote about your parents?"

Well, my dad did once accidentally charge into an employees-only area at Tomorrowland in Disney World, and was only narrowly saved from Disney Jail. That is all.

3) "Maybe an in-depth preview of I Love New York 2 and your attempts to be a contestant."

I have, of course, been keeping up with the casting process for I Love New York 2, and by and large it is an inspiring lot of suitors. So many unemployed or underemployed gentlemen with unfortunate tattoos and/or piercings and/or speech impediments, so little time. I personally see myself as a latter-day Mr. Boston, minus the unique style of apparel and the Gilbert Gottfried vocal quality. I plan to forward my match.com video personal over to the ILNY2 site, and the rest will likely be history.

More reader topics to be handled later! We don't want to use up all the ideas at once!

A Golden Opportunity

I've been having a terribly hard time thinking of topics to write about lately. Maybe it's because we're in summer rerun season or because writing about work might get me fired or because I don't want to sound like a drunk or a slut, but I haven't really been too inspired to write. The good news is I haven't devoted 1000 words to describing the new toothbrush I got or the fifty-seventh crazy taxi experience I've had. Still, though, I hate to not post regularly. I might lose both of my readers.

So if you have any suggestions for things I should write about, you are more than welcome to send them my way. Don't get too excited, because I'm not going to take pictures of any body parts or share my credit card information, but I will have a committee of noted experts (likely including Dr. Joyce Brothers) to review your submissions and pass on the best ideas. Maybe it will be a 10,000 word essay on the causes of the Civil War (slavery) or a series of haiku about Lindsay Lohan, who knows? The point is that you'll be doing some of the work for once. And doesn't that feel good?

Ghost World

Last night I went on Chicago's only bus-based ghost tour. I was a little bit disappointed because I had kind of pictured creeping through dilapidated old mansions with a flashlight and instead got three hours listening to a guy make lame jokes on a converted school bus, but it was still pretty fun. It turns out there are a lot of haunted places in Chicago, or else the tour guide was just a really good liar. We went to the site of this awful theater fire around the turn of the century, and also the spot along the river where a lot of people died when some boat sank. See, tragedy can be entertaining!

Overall, I have to say that the tour wasn't that scary. I was hoping that a ghost might try to murder someone while I was there, but that didn't happen. The only semi-scary thing was when people took photographs that had orbs in them, these little dots of light where you can kind of see a person's face. I mean, sure, maybe it's just some sciency thing I don't understand, but it definitely seems like the undead desperate to puts some message across. Maybe "get a better camera," I don't know.

The More Things Change...

So I just finished rereading The Westing Game. I'm not sure if anybody else remembers this book from their childhood, but it's totally awesome! It's about a wily old millionaire who creates a puzzle in his will and selects an ethnically and socially diverse group of lovable characters to compete for his inheritance. They all make important discoveries about themselves, each other, and yes, even our great country along the way. I even cried a little bit at the end, although that may have been the stench from the el.

Not everything I've revisited from my childhood has turned out quite so well, however. As it turns out, the Value Tales series is a little bit preachy and boring when you're not eight years old and delighted by Thomas Edison's talking light bulb pal. On repeat viewings, it turns out the Gumby and Friends series has some rather flat dialogue and is a bit lacking in genuine character development. And now that I'm 29, I have to say that connect the dot puzzles seem a little bit simpler than I had initially imagined.

One thing's for sure, though -- The Great Muppet Caper is amazing at any age!

Fine Dining

This afternoon I had probably the strangest dining experience I have ever had. Stranger than the time I threw up in the kitchen of a Cracker Barrel while on a date in Decatur, IL. Stranger even than the time a homeless man started masturbating near me at the Burger King. Okay, well, maybe not, but still very strange.

Our waitress was a tiny, miserable-looking woman who had the unfortunate combination of being a low talker and having a heavy accent, which rendered her utterly incomprehensible. I think I accidentally ordered a prostitute thinking I was getting more water. She responded to each request as though she were being physically abused, shying away from the request for silverware as though it were a punch in the face from Mike Tyson. She also spent the majority of the meal pretending not to notice us as she walked right past. I didn't know whether to undertip her or notify the authorities that she'd been kidnapped.

But the real fireworks came when we received the bill, and she spent half an hour trying to process our credit card. First she announced that "the system was down" so we'd have to wait a minute (at least I think that was what she said -- it might have been the Gettysburg Address); then she pretended to run in and brought back a slip that said "server error." Then she handed it off to five or six different strangers, each of whom no doubt went on a terrific online shopping spree at Baby Gap, before utterly giving up and demanding cash for a hundred dollar meal. I offered to wash the dishes instead, but it turns out that only works in Archie Comics.

I am Politically Active

So I saw Al Gore speak on Wednesday night. My friend had an extra ticket, which allowed me to enjoy not only the speech but also some free chicken and a free body cavity search. To me, the most interesting thing about the whole experience was that it was, well, interesting. The media had always made good old Al seem like he would be likely to spend his half hour lecturing you about the importance of eating enough fiber and not making rolling stops at traffic signals. Instead, though, he delivered a fairly incisive analysis of the problems with contemporary political discourse (i.e. it is shouting of sound bites) and even a fun anecdote about eating at Shoney's. I was a little saddened that Tipper wasn't there (I wanted to ask her to affix a warning label to my sweet, sweet ass), but that's a small quibble.

There was also a question and answer period, which had the potential to be beautifully disastrous, but they unfortunately screened the questions carefully in advance. Hence there were no questions about Mr. Gore's one time wolfman-like facial growth or preferred sexual positions. There was the obligatory question from a child in the room, but apparently that child was Ariana Huffington's, because even that question was fairly tame and articulate. Next time I'm going to bring my own Star Stage microphone and bust out some questions of my own.

Miscellany

I have a floater secretary today whose boobs go seriously down to her waistline, such as it is. It is rather distracting. Also, when she was entering my time she typed in my notes to her as part of the narrative, resulting in an entry that included the phrases "PLEASE CHECK THIS" and "GET CLIENT/MATTER NUMBER FROM SHANNON." Rather than trying to explain the problem with this to her, I decided simply to wait until my real secretary gets back. She may bolt out the door at 4:45 sharp each day, but at least she gets the job done while she's here.

Of course, my friend Bethany has had 1) a secretary who answered her phone "Ms. Bethany's office" and deleted several spreadsheets in their entirety, 2) a secretary who lied to her about having a second career as a criminologist, and 3) a secretary who took a half day "to mourn the death of James Brown" and transcribes email addresses as "dot corns" rather than "dot coms." So all in all, I think I'm getting a bargain.

I have also discovered gmail chat, which threatens my productivity in a very significant way. It is difficult to focus on contracts and securities law when your friend Steve (everyone has a friend Steve) is assailing you with his trenchant analysis of the remaining Flavor of Love: Charm School contestants. I really think Saaphyri might have this one wrapped up, by the way.

Also there is a hot glue gun lying out on one of the credenzas on this floor. Could there be a craft-making bandit at large? Lord help us.

700 Club

I just realized that I have reached 700 posts! I'm not sure exactly what that represents -- probably just that I have way too much time on my hands and way too many thoughts about America's Next Top Model -- but it is at least some sort of milestone. Here's to the greatest moments in blog history, at least so far:

-- I get a government job, which spurs the level of free time necessary to start sharing my every trivial thought with the larger Internet community.
-- I devote at least two weeks worth of posts to my intestinal parasite, Frank, thereby reaching the level of class and dignity that will come to characterize all my writings.
-- Roommate Liz makes her first appearance, in a poorly-constructed scenario involving a fake engagement and a bottle of peppermint Schnapps.
-- The Blog Book Club fails to take off after I select the complete writings of Ethan Hawke as my inaugural discussion pieces.
-- Martha Stewart drops by the blog to share her recipe for pumpkin caramel delights.
-- The first and last all-musical edition of the blog ends abruptly when I realize that no one can here me humming as I type.
-- The mail guy at my office walks in on me blogging and breaking it down to Kelly Clarkson, leading to weeks of internal debate as to which was more embarrassing.
-- Years of jokes finally lead the Simpson sisters to seek a restraining order.
-- Pacific Islanders officially become the only ethnic group I have not unintentionally offended.
-- I discover my Comcast On Demand, leading to a seemingly never ending series of plotless anecdotes as well as a number of predictably terrible dates.
-- The long-awaited film version of my blog, starring Danny DeVito as the blog and Dakota Fanning as Friend Amy, inexplicably stalls in development.
-- I attempt to respond to fan emails, only to discover that, once opened, they are actually offers to increase my penis size.
-- I Still Know What You Did Last Summer airs on HBO.