Sunday, August 12, 2007
To Market, To Market
Market Days is this weekend in my neighborhood. Ostensibly, the purpose of this event is to raise funds for the beautification of East Lakeview, but in actuality it is designed, as with all other Chicago summer events, to allow people to get drunk and eat corn dogs in the streets. Oh, and hook up. Summer is the time in Chicago when we manufacture enough regrets to last the whole eight-month winter long.
I have to say that Market Days does have some uniquely hilarious aspects of its own, such as the sale in the street of penis-shaped candles and t-shirts that say "I fuck on the first date." I narrowly steered my sister away from a display for the sale of secondhand gay porn. Plus, the cover bands and this particular event lean more towards covers of Avril Lavigne and Christina Aguilera than Journey and Jimmy Buffet. And there are a whole lot more drag queens than at, say, the Printer's Row Book Fair. Unless you count Ann Coulter, which you should.
Anyway, we had a few drinks and a few laughs. I wore my "My Other Car is Oprah" t-shirt out and quickly realized the downside of wearing such an attention-seeking shirt, which is that you in fact frequently get attention. I also ran into some drunk co-workers, which brought me joy. Nothing like watching your marketing director vomit into a porta-sink.
Market Days is this weekend in my neighborhood. Ostensibly, the purpose of this event is to raise funds for the beautification of East Lakeview, but in actuality it is designed, as with all other Chicago summer events, to allow people to get drunk and eat corn dogs in the streets. Oh, and hook up. Summer is the time in Chicago when we manufacture enough regrets to last the whole eight-month winter long.
I have to say that Market Days does have some uniquely hilarious aspects of its own, such as the sale in the street of penis-shaped candles and t-shirts that say "I fuck on the first date." I narrowly steered my sister away from a display for the sale of secondhand gay porn. Plus, the cover bands and this particular event lean more towards covers of Avril Lavigne and Christina Aguilera than Journey and Jimmy Buffet. And there are a whole lot more drag queens than at, say, the Printer's Row Book Fair. Unless you count Ann Coulter, which you should.
Anyway, we had a few drinks and a few laughs. I wore my "My Other Car is Oprah" t-shirt out and quickly realized the downside of wearing such an attention-seeking shirt, which is that you in fact frequently get attention. I also ran into some drunk co-workers, which brought me joy. Nothing like watching your marketing director vomit into a porta-sink.
