Thursday, November 29, 2007
Fighting is Funny
Yesterday I awoke to a frightful row in the unit above me. Now, my building is pretty well sound insulated, and before this couple moved in, we had never heard any sort of noise from that direction. Apparently they're big fans of steel toed boots, however, because now I regularly hear them clomping around like Cyldesdales. (I also hear the loud if seemingly unenthusiastic sex, but that's another story.) But regardless, this particular incident was well beyond their custom.
"You know what, you can just shut the fuck up!" I heard, as I woke from a relatively deep sleep. "Fuck you!"
After ascertaining quickly that there was no intruder in my home and this comment was not in fact intended for me, I shifted from alarm to interest. Suddenly, I live in Melrose Place.
"You're an asshole. You're just such a fucking asshole," came the reply. Impressive rhetoric.
"Whatever. You can just go to hell." Touche.
Then there was assorted stomping around, followed by what sounded like a blender, but probably wasn't one.
"No, don't touch me! Don't you ever fucking touch me."
More stomping. No blender this time.
"Okay, fine, then, just leave. Get the hell out of here. Just get the hell out."
Stomping and a door slam.
Pretty weak on content, I guess, but certainly strong on feeling. No sequels yet, but a fella can always hope.
Yesterday I awoke to a frightful row in the unit above me. Now, my building is pretty well sound insulated, and before this couple moved in, we had never heard any sort of noise from that direction. Apparently they're big fans of steel toed boots, however, because now I regularly hear them clomping around like Cyldesdales. (I also hear the loud if seemingly unenthusiastic sex, but that's another story.) But regardless, this particular incident was well beyond their custom.
"You know what, you can just shut the fuck up!" I heard, as I woke from a relatively deep sleep. "Fuck you!"
After ascertaining quickly that there was no intruder in my home and this comment was not in fact intended for me, I shifted from alarm to interest. Suddenly, I live in Melrose Place.
"You're an asshole. You're just such a fucking asshole," came the reply. Impressive rhetoric.
"Whatever. You can just go to hell." Touche.
Then there was assorted stomping around, followed by what sounded like a blender, but probably wasn't one.
"No, don't touch me! Don't you ever fucking touch me."
More stomping. No blender this time.
"Okay, fine, then, just leave. Get the hell out of here. Just get the hell out."
Stomping and a door slam.
Pretty weak on content, I guess, but certainly strong on feeling. No sequels yet, but a fella can always hope.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Things I Would Prefer My Cab Driver Not Do
-- Swear under his breath.
-- Explain to me what's wrong with this country.
-- Ask me for legal advice.
-- Fail to understand where Lake Shore Drive is.
-- Attempt to change my religion.
-- Listen to insanely conservative talk radio.
-- Tell me dirty jokes.
-- Take me to places other than my destination.
-- Insist that I pay only with ones.
-- Scream at me in a foreign language.
-- Meth.
-- Swear under his breath.
-- Explain to me what's wrong with this country.
-- Ask me for legal advice.
-- Fail to understand where Lake Shore Drive is.
-- Attempt to change my religion.
-- Listen to insanely conservative talk radio.
-- Tell me dirty jokes.
-- Take me to places other than my destination.
-- Insist that I pay only with ones.
-- Scream at me in a foreign language.
-- Meth.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
My Packed Social Calendar
Apologies for the radio silence over the past several days. The fact of the matter is that I was simply too busy to write during my time in Quincy. I had to play Dizzy Dizzy Dinosaur with my parents and attend a birthday party for one of our dogs. As it turns out, the more one's parents age, the more they become like children. And so I had to scrape the bottom of the board game closet and help to dress my dog in a princess costume.
It also turns out that internet access has become something of a hot issue in our household. My mother maintains that the current, ten-minutes-per-page-download dial-up system they have is perfectly adequate for their needs. She does have a point, as primarily they like to check email and download pictures of puppies. But my father responds that putting a busy signal out to the world some ten hours a day is perhaps not ideal in the event an elderly relative should fall down the stairs or some poor hapless child become stranded by the road. To avoid having to participate in this debate, I tend to try to stay away from the computer. But should they ask, I would point out that they had a dot matrix printer until about two years ago. There's no real concern they'll become early adopters here.
But anyway, I'm back, though much scarred, and you'll be hearing from me again soon.
Apologies for the radio silence over the past several days. The fact of the matter is that I was simply too busy to write during my time in Quincy. I had to play Dizzy Dizzy Dinosaur with my parents and attend a birthday party for one of our dogs. As it turns out, the more one's parents age, the more they become like children. And so I had to scrape the bottom of the board game closet and help to dress my dog in a princess costume.
It also turns out that internet access has become something of a hot issue in our household. My mother maintains that the current, ten-minutes-per-page-download dial-up system they have is perfectly adequate for their needs. She does have a point, as primarily they like to check email and download pictures of puppies. But my father responds that putting a busy signal out to the world some ten hours a day is perhaps not ideal in the event an elderly relative should fall down the stairs or some poor hapless child become stranded by the road. To avoid having to participate in this debate, I tend to try to stay away from the computer. But should they ask, I would point out that they had a dot matrix printer until about two years ago. There's no real concern they'll become early adopters here.
But anyway, I'm back, though much scarred, and you'll be hearing from me again soon.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Thanks
Is anyone else watching the Macy's parade? Well, maybe "watching" is the wrong word, since I just did a hearty regime of ab exercises while enduring the Jonas Brothers' "performance," but I do have it in on the background. I always enjoy the annual juxtaposition of American History and Al Roker, as in "Up next, the First Thanksgiving float, featuring the song stylings of Ne-Yo!" It's reassuring to know that even the most beloved of American holidays isn't immune from the crass commercial impulse to sell a few more Hannah Montana CDs.
Anyway, I'm back in Quincy for the holiday. Yesterday I went to six different discount stores (even one is too many) in search of Christmas cards to deconstruct for the delight of my friends and well wishers. The good news is that the cable system here recently got Bravo, so I didn't have to miss Project Runway. (The enthusiasm for Sarah Jessica Parker's presence was the most excitement I've seen about a horse since Barbaro broke his leg.) Today the plan is to take my 96-year-old grandmother out for dinner and then possibly watch a movie. We live hard here, that's for sure.
Is anyone else watching the Macy's parade? Well, maybe "watching" is the wrong word, since I just did a hearty regime of ab exercises while enduring the Jonas Brothers' "performance," but I do have it in on the background. I always enjoy the annual juxtaposition of American History and Al Roker, as in "Up next, the First Thanksgiving float, featuring the song stylings of Ne-Yo!" It's reassuring to know that even the most beloved of American holidays isn't immune from the crass commercial impulse to sell a few more Hannah Montana CDs.
Anyway, I'm back in Quincy for the holiday. Yesterday I went to six different discount stores (even one is too many) in search of Christmas cards to deconstruct for the delight of my friends and well wishers. The good news is that the cable system here recently got Bravo, so I didn't have to miss Project Runway. (The enthusiasm for Sarah Jessica Parker's presence was the most excitement I've seen about a horse since Barbaro broke his leg.) Today the plan is to take my 96-year-old grandmother out for dinner and then possibly watch a movie. We live hard here, that's for sure.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Ways in Which I Have Nearly Died Lately
So the other day I was jammed into the door of a packed rush hour train, and I decided to step out onto the platform to make it easier for people to get off. Unfortunately for me, the people on the train also decided to make it easier for themselves to get off, namely by shoving me to the ground. I tipped straight over under the weight of my ginormous gym bag, sending my copy of Les Mis and my Harry Potter bookmark flying. I landed with my leg hanging in the gap between the train and the platform. Had the train car moved at that moment, I would have been down approximately one leg. Fortunately it did not, though, so I just suffered an acute case of crankypants. God, you can't imagine what that suffering's like.
And then today as I got into a cab after work, the driver of the cab behind us started freaking out and honking his horn. My first thought was that maybe there was a man with an axe in the back seat and this other cab driver was trying to warn us, but that proved to be every bit as wrong as the theory that pop rocks and Coke will make your stomach explode. Then I realized that this gentleman somehow felt slighted in my selection of a cab, perhaps thinking the choice of first in line a bit unoriginal. He expressed his disappointment by riding our bumper and honking for three blocks. Every day is a walking advertisement for Chicago Transit.
So the other day I was jammed into the door of a packed rush hour train, and I decided to step out onto the platform to make it easier for people to get off. Unfortunately for me, the people on the train also decided to make it easier for themselves to get off, namely by shoving me to the ground. I tipped straight over under the weight of my ginormous gym bag, sending my copy of Les Mis and my Harry Potter bookmark flying. I landed with my leg hanging in the gap between the train and the platform. Had the train car moved at that moment, I would have been down approximately one leg. Fortunately it did not, though, so I just suffered an acute case of crankypants. God, you can't imagine what that suffering's like.
And then today as I got into a cab after work, the driver of the cab behind us started freaking out and honking his horn. My first thought was that maybe there was a man with an axe in the back seat and this other cab driver was trying to warn us, but that proved to be every bit as wrong as the theory that pop rocks and Coke will make your stomach explode. Then I realized that this gentleman somehow felt slighted in my selection of a cab, perhaps thinking the choice of first in line a bit unoriginal. He expressed his disappointment by riding our bumper and honking for three blocks. Every day is a walking advertisement for Chicago Transit.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Key Learnings
The episode of America's Next Top Model where they visit Nelson Mandela's cell is on right now. I don't know about you, but this is definitely, definitely how I first learned about Apartheid. Essentially, I get all my social and political views from Tyra, and of course Larry King. You'd be surprised by how frequently the two of them agree.
Today was also the day they light the lights on Michigan Avenue, which meant the entire Mag Mile (including the area around my office) was swarming with enthusiastic-looking people in bad sweaters. Personally, I don't understand what the big deal is. I turn my lights on every day, and you don't see me expecting a party for it.
I tried to experiment and create my own pasta sauce with dinner tonight. Sometimes this works, but this time it was a bust. I probably shouldn't have tried to melt pepper jack cheese on there.
I have a terrible headache, but I'm hesitant to take more than the one Advil the bottle allots me. ODing on pain reliever seems pretty unlikely, but you have to admit it would be a pretty embarrassing way to go.
The episode of America's Next Top Model where they visit Nelson Mandela's cell is on right now. I don't know about you, but this is definitely, definitely how I first learned about Apartheid. Essentially, I get all my social and political views from Tyra, and of course Larry King. You'd be surprised by how frequently the two of them agree.
Today was also the day they light the lights on Michigan Avenue, which meant the entire Mag Mile (including the area around my office) was swarming with enthusiastic-looking people in bad sweaters. Personally, I don't understand what the big deal is. I turn my lights on every day, and you don't see me expecting a party for it.
I tried to experiment and create my own pasta sauce with dinner tonight. Sometimes this works, but this time it was a bust. I probably shouldn't have tried to melt pepper jack cheese on there.
I have a terrible headache, but I'm hesitant to take more than the one Advil the bottle allots me. ODing on pain reliever seems pretty unlikely, but you have to admit it would be a pretty embarrassing way to go.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Possibly the Most Important Day in American History
The premiere of season four of Project Runway is tonight.
All of the drama. All of the clothing made out of common household objects. All of the Nina Gah-cia.
I don't think Heidi is pregnant for this season, but who knows? Seems like Seal can't keep his damn hands off her.
I have seriously structured my whole week around this moment. I am completely swamped at work right now, and I have to judge a moot court event this afternoon, but still I have blocked out the evening in my calendar. I don't care if I get hit by a car on the way home; unless the ER has Bravo, I'm internally bleeding at home, thank you very much.
I really think that Project Runway might actually be the thing that could bring peace to the Middle East. Who cares about centuries old religious conflicts when Tim Gunn is in the house?
The premiere of season four of Project Runway is tonight.
All of the drama. All of the clothing made out of common household objects. All of the Nina Gah-cia.
I don't think Heidi is pregnant for this season, but who knows? Seems like Seal can't keep his damn hands off her.
I have seriously structured my whole week around this moment. I am completely swamped at work right now, and I have to judge a moot court event this afternoon, but still I have blocked out the evening in my calendar. I don't care if I get hit by a car on the way home; unless the ER has Bravo, I'm internally bleeding at home, thank you very much.
I really think that Project Runway might actually be the thing that could bring peace to the Middle East. Who cares about centuries old religious conflicts when Tim Gunn is in the house?
Sunday, November 11, 2007
South Bend Weekend 2000!
As I believe I mentioned, I went to visit my friend Erin in South Bend this weekend, continuing my tradition of visiting sassy redheads in Indiana. Although I was repeatedly warned in advance that there was "nothing to do" in South Bend (obviously someone hasn't heard of the Healthworks! Kids Museum or the Morris Performing Arts Center), we had a pretty nice time. We had dinner in a completely empty restaurant -- apparently no one does anything else while the Notre Dame game is on -- and went to no fewer than four different bars. In the first one, there was a lady with sick ass bangs playing the Mandolin, and in the last one there was an enormous sheet cake in honor of someone named Perry's birthday. Who could ask for anything more?
My one complaint about my South Bend experience would have to be that Indiana for some reason believes you should have to pay five or six bucks for the pleasure of driving on their highways. I went through like three film canisters (remember those?) full of change! Plus you have very few options for roadside dining, which led to me eating lunch at a Hardee's (remember those?). I witnessed an employee there pull a huge hunk of curly fries out of the deep fryer and hack it apart with a pick. Not their best advertisement.
As I believe I mentioned, I went to visit my friend Erin in South Bend this weekend, continuing my tradition of visiting sassy redheads in Indiana. Although I was repeatedly warned in advance that there was "nothing to do" in South Bend (obviously someone hasn't heard of the Healthworks! Kids Museum or the Morris Performing Arts Center), we had a pretty nice time. We had dinner in a completely empty restaurant -- apparently no one does anything else while the Notre Dame game is on -- and went to no fewer than four different bars. In the first one, there was a lady with sick ass bangs playing the Mandolin, and in the last one there was an enormous sheet cake in honor of someone named Perry's birthday. Who could ask for anything more?
My one complaint about my South Bend experience would have to be that Indiana for some reason believes you should have to pay five or six bucks for the pleasure of driving on their highways. I went through like three film canisters (remember those?) full of change! Plus you have very few options for roadside dining, which led to me eating lunch at a Hardee's (remember those?). I witnessed an employee there pull a huge hunk of curly fries out of the deep fryer and hack it apart with a pick. Not their best advertisement.
Friday, November 09, 2007
Status Reports
I am running out of tape flags and the highlighters that I like and my secretary is away from her desk. Also I have never had tape. Not that I frequently have a need for tape, but I'd like to be able to adhere things to other things. I do have glue sticks. I had to requisition those specially last year. But don't think I'd better glue stick things to my cabinets.
I am about 150 pages into Les Miserables. I'm actually really enjoying it, despite all the French people. I'm getting kind of irritated, though, because I do feel the police resources of M---- sur M---- could be better used than in chasing the supposedly dead Jean Valjean for decades. Of course, they did get O.J. eventually, so maybe they do need to just keep trying.
Tomorrow I am going to South Bend, Indiana, to visit my friend Erin. I'll try to remember to take the digital camera so I can share the experience with you all. I hear South Bend is a very photogenic city.
I am running out of tape flags and the highlighters that I like and my secretary is away from her desk. Also I have never had tape. Not that I frequently have a need for tape, but I'd like to be able to adhere things to other things. I do have glue sticks. I had to requisition those specially last year. But don't think I'd better glue stick things to my cabinets.
I am about 150 pages into Les Miserables. I'm actually really enjoying it, despite all the French people. I'm getting kind of irritated, though, because I do feel the police resources of M---- sur M---- could be better used than in chasing the supposedly dead Jean Valjean for decades. Of course, they did get O.J. eventually, so maybe they do need to just keep trying.
Tomorrow I am going to South Bend, Indiana, to visit my friend Erin. I'll try to remember to take the digital camera so I can share the experience with you all. I hear South Bend is a very photogenic city.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Sweet, Delicious Spam
Can I just say how much I love the fun variety of subject lines out there for spam emails about the size of my penis? Here I was thinking that "Add Inches to Your Size" was pretty much the industry standard, and along came all kinds of wonderful options. For instance, there's the brutally shaming "Guys With Small Penis Look Pitiful" or the cleverly cautionary "Don't Let Your Dick Provoke Her Laughter." Then there's the rhetorically questioning "Why Be An Average Guy Any Longer?" and the hopeful "Encouraging News For Your Willy." My favorite, though, just might be the vast oversell of "Women Would Perform Your Every Wish If You Were Well Hung." Classy.
Here are some more, presented without comment. Just keep in mind that they're all real:
"There Are No Losers Among Possessors of Long Dicks"
"Rarely Will You Meet a Girl Who Would Say She Likes Small Dicks"
"Let Your Dick Become Something She Will Never Forget"
"There's No Need to Enumerate the Advantages of a Larger Penis"
"Great News for Men in Despair"
"Feel the Sweet Taste of Sexual Power and Passion With a Bigger Penis"
"Don't Be Left Out, Join Millions of Men in the Revolution!"
"Get More Pleasure in Love With Your New Big Phallus"
Now I can't wait to check my spam filter each morning!
Can I just say how much I love the fun variety of subject lines out there for spam emails about the size of my penis? Here I was thinking that "Add Inches to Your Size" was pretty much the industry standard, and along came all kinds of wonderful options. For instance, there's the brutally shaming "Guys With Small Penis Look Pitiful" or the cleverly cautionary "Don't Let Your Dick Provoke Her Laughter." Then there's the rhetorically questioning "Why Be An Average Guy Any Longer?" and the hopeful "Encouraging News For Your Willy." My favorite, though, just might be the vast oversell of "Women Would Perform Your Every Wish If You Were Well Hung." Classy.
Here are some more, presented without comment. Just keep in mind that they're all real:
"There Are No Losers Among Possessors of Long Dicks"
"Rarely Will You Meet a Girl Who Would Say She Likes Small Dicks"
"Let Your Dick Become Something She Will Never Forget"
"There's No Need to Enumerate the Advantages of a Larger Penis"
"Great News for Men in Despair"
"Feel the Sweet Taste of Sexual Power and Passion With a Bigger Penis"
"Don't Be Left Out, Join Millions of Men in the Revolution!"
"Get More Pleasure in Love With Your New Big Phallus"
Now I can't wait to check my spam filter each morning!
Monday, November 05, 2007
TV Watch
So people have been asking if I'm watching I Love New York 2. Could there really be any question? Yes, of course we were all disappointed when things didn't work out for New York and her Mutant Turtle beau from season one, but could one really expect her to give up on love? Or on television as the most viable medium for finding it? Of course not.
The truth of the matter is my sister, Former Roommate Liz, and I have developed a sort of book club for television in which we gather each week to watch and discuss ILNY2 and The Hills. There are even homework assignments. For instance, this week we had to research the following issues:
1. Is Sister Patterson still involved, romantically or otherwise, with New York's father? If not, did they split because the limelight was simply too much for him?
2. What happened to Chamo, New York's flamboyantly gay assistant from season one? Is he working at a dinner theater somewhere?
3. Why did Flava Flav and Deelishis split? Was it in any way related to the spelling of her nickname?
4. What is LC's current status at Teen Vogue? Can she please be elevated to Editor in Chief immediately?
5. Where is Elodie now? (Besides in our hearts forever, naturally.)
6. How is Spencer's work on Heidi's album going, and when does it "drop?"
If you have information on any of these topics, please feel free to share. Otherwise, I've got to go, as I obviously have work to do.
So people have been asking if I'm watching I Love New York 2. Could there really be any question? Yes, of course we were all disappointed when things didn't work out for New York and her Mutant Turtle beau from season one, but could one really expect her to give up on love? Or on television as the most viable medium for finding it? Of course not.
The truth of the matter is my sister, Former Roommate Liz, and I have developed a sort of book club for television in which we gather each week to watch and discuss ILNY2 and The Hills. There are even homework assignments. For instance, this week we had to research the following issues:
1. Is Sister Patterson still involved, romantically or otherwise, with New York's father? If not, did they split because the limelight was simply too much for him?
2. What happened to Chamo, New York's flamboyantly gay assistant from season one? Is he working at a dinner theater somewhere?
3. Why did Flava Flav and Deelishis split? Was it in any way related to the spelling of her nickname?
4. What is LC's current status at Teen Vogue? Can she please be elevated to Editor in Chief immediately?
5. Where is Elodie now? (Besides in our hearts forever, naturally.)
6. How is Spencer's work on Heidi's album going, and when does it "drop?"
If you have information on any of these topics, please feel free to share. Otherwise, I've got to go, as I obviously have work to do.
Saturday, November 03, 2007
Book Notes
I went to the library today for the first time in a couple of years. It's not that I haven't been reading, just so you know; I get a steady supply of books from my parents' collection, all with amusing seventies cover art and aggressive underlining and margin notes. But I used to really enjoy going to the main branch of the public library -- where they had musical practice rooms and some interesting rare books in addition to a particularly pungent set of homeless people -- back when I still worked down in that area. Now it's about four el stops away from my job, though, so I'm stuck with the branch up here in Lakeview, which seems to view itself as more of a free version of Blockbuster. Seriously, there couldn't have been more than a couple thousand books in there, but there were two copies of "Maid in Manhattan." J. Lo is the new James Joyce, from what I'm told.
Anyway, I selected a copy of Les Miserables to continue my trend of reading things I'm embarrassed to not have read in high school. I'm a little terrified that people will think I'm reading it because I'm the only person in America still excited about the musical, but I'm willing to give it a shot. Maybe I'll wrap the cover in brown paper so people will just think I'm reading porn.
I also wanted to get Devil in the White City, finding myself to be still in a bit of a Halloween mood, but apparently all three of this branch's copies had been stolen. Apparently not even books about crime are safe from crime these days. Go figure.
I went to the library today for the first time in a couple of years. It's not that I haven't been reading, just so you know; I get a steady supply of books from my parents' collection, all with amusing seventies cover art and aggressive underlining and margin notes. But I used to really enjoy going to the main branch of the public library -- where they had musical practice rooms and some interesting rare books in addition to a particularly pungent set of homeless people -- back when I still worked down in that area. Now it's about four el stops away from my job, though, so I'm stuck with the branch up here in Lakeview, which seems to view itself as more of a free version of Blockbuster. Seriously, there couldn't have been more than a couple thousand books in there, but there were two copies of "Maid in Manhattan." J. Lo is the new James Joyce, from what I'm told.
Anyway, I selected a copy of Les Miserables to continue my trend of reading things I'm embarrassed to not have read in high school. I'm a little terrified that people will think I'm reading it because I'm the only person in America still excited about the musical, but I'm willing to give it a shot. Maybe I'll wrap the cover in brown paper so people will just think I'm reading porn.
I also wanted to get Devil in the White City, finding myself to be still in a bit of a Halloween mood, but apparently all three of this branch's copies had been stolen. Apparently not even books about crime are safe from crime these days. Go figure.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Getting "Arrested"
Last night for Halloween we went as the cast of Arrested Development. Well, to be fair, roughly half of the cast of Arrested Development, because our brilliant idea was sort of last minute and we didn't have people to take on half of the roles. But the important thing is that I got to be Buster and wear a hook for a hand.
Because you may not be able to tell from our delicious rendering, from left to right we are Maeby, Buster, Lindsay, and Lucille. Lindsay's shirt does say "slut" in rhinestones, by the way; you just can't see it.
My award from Army for marksmanship.
Last night for Halloween we went as the cast of Arrested Development. Well, to be fair, roughly half of the cast of Arrested Development, because our brilliant idea was sort of last minute and we didn't have people to take on half of the roles. But the important thing is that I got to be Buster and wear a hook for a hand.
Because you may not be able to tell from our delicious rendering, from left to right we are Maeby, Buster, Lindsay, and Lucille. Lindsay's shirt does say "slut" in rhinestones, by the way; you just can't see it.
My award from Army for marksmanship.