Aunty Cici?

Being home for Christmas has made me think of nicknames. I kind of wish that my family was one to give out nicknames, nice ones, to each other. I'm not saying I want my family to call me "Beefcake", but I always wished I had an aunt CiCi or Tootie or an aunt named Rebecca Anne that everyone called "Rose" for some forgotten reason. I think it sounds affectionate, and well, fun.

I've had a few nicknames throughout my life, but none of them have stuck for more than a few years. I once dated a Cuban guy who gave me all sorts of wondeful and affectionate nicknames: Pelusa, Pelusina, Patacoja, M-sona, and Mamita. I adored the habit (more than the man?) and I will never forget it. But the beauty of a nickname, and of nicknaming, is that it has to come naturally.

Beefcake?

I made a new friend recently, and one of the things we have in common is an interest in the WWF as a youngster. (Don't ask!) As we were conversing with each other, the common theme of wrestling kept coming up. We talked about all the old wrestlers like Supafly Jimmy Snooka and Ravishing Rick Rude. You know the ones! In a later conversation, this friend said that he was suggesting someone purchase a hedge clippers for their father for a Christmas present, and subsequently thought of another wrestler named Brutus "the barber" Beefcake, and finally thought of me.

"Wow," I replied, "I've never been associated with Brutus Beefcake before. Not even close."

And, thus, somehow I've been dubbed the wholly unfeminine "Beefcake." Ick. What a nickname. Also, hilarious! This friend writes to me in an email, "Not cool, Beefcake, not cool." Hee! It makes me laugh.

A Word to the Wise, Young, Single Men Out There...

Don't take this the wrong way...

Well, let me specify that this is not directed to anyone in particular, (you know, it's NOT one of those passive-aggressive blog posts favored by the tech-savvy hipsters to communicate frustration with each other) but rather a trend I've noticed in my dating travels about single men in their 20s and 30s. In fact, I'm seriously concerned about the straight men of my generation! I've met some awesome guys this year. Guys who I definitely appreciate more now than I would have 5 years ago - they are funny, smart, kind, have stable jobs, interesting ambitions, etc. etc. Only, they need to lose about 20-30 lbs., and stop smoking!

Since so many people are single longer, there is a different kind of responsibility for a person living alone to take care of their own health. Not to say that just because people are married or in a couple that they necessarily take better care of themselves. But, unlike other demographics, most straight guys do not face the same pressures as women or gay men to keep their looks and health together. (And don't even start about the "metrosexual" thing. That's bullshit and affects about 2% of the population - all stockbrokers or whatever.)

But, I'm talking about that guy who has all his hair, and is a bit of a diamond "in the rough" because of his weight. Maybe the guy has been single for awhile, had a few bad relationships, or are a little shy around the ladies. So, they kind of "give up" about their appearance. Or they don't want to do the hairless, prettyboy thing, which, thank god! But boys, that doesn't mean you should let it go all together! Get to the gym! Eat some veggies! It's genetics, fellas! Take better care of your health and the gals will come to you!

California Knows How to Party

I sent in a graduate school application yesterday to a certain school in California. Whoo-whoo! One more to go before the holidays, and then I'm cruising on the holiday party tip!

Cocktail Wieners in the Crockpot

So a friend and I are hosting a work-related party tomorrow, and we decided to make those magically delicious cocktail wieners that sit in the crockpot. When they are served at parties, they are super tasty and disappear much more quickly than anything with, say, spinach in it. Of course the special ingredient is the delicious sauce. A little research revealed many different concoctions for the sauce which included varieties of the following ingredients:
- grape jelly or currant jelly
- cocktail sauce or chili sauce
- ketchup and/or mustard
- bourbon
- brown sugar

Finding this variety of recipes was no easy matter. Apparently, cocktail wieners in the crockpot is too low brow for epicurious.com. Hee! But since the recipes varied so widely, and since it was difficult to use a cook's intuition to evaluate the different recipes (um, grape jelly and cocktail sauce? how could that possibly be good???), I had to consult an expert. Conference with my mother revealed her grandmother's recipe:

"Oh, DEFINITELY currant jelly. And, um, chili sauce that would be in like a ketchup-type bottle. And, you know, the cocktail wieners."

Jobim's Magic Number

Against my better judgement, I must post about my awesome date last night! I went out with a kind man, and a good dancer to boot! Yo, I don't want to sound egotistical, but it is hard to find a guy that can match me on the dance floor. I'm usually happy if the guy will go out on the dance floor at all. Seriously! But, with a nice dinner and a little Brazilian Jobim tribute music, a little magic can happen. Hee!

Jams I Get My Obsession On

Better late than never I succumbed to the iTunes temptation and downloaded some songs. Unfortunately for my coworkers, this means I can exercise my innate ability to obsess on certain jams, especially R&B/Neo-soul jams. (Past roommates can attest to this fatal flaw - that is probably why I now live by myself.) Obsessing on a jam is one of those things that seems normal, but becomes totally embarrassing as soon as anyone else is around. I kind of laugh to myself when one of my coworkers pass my office on the way to the printer and says to him/herself, "Shit, she's listening to Janet's 'That's the Way Love Goes', again?!?"

But of course, they are too polite to say anything to me directly. Too bad for them~!

So Janet's the jam of the day/week (7 times today).
Past obsessions include:

• TLC's "Creep" (53 times on iTunes - thank god for that counter)

• Thom Yorke's "Black Swan" (33 times)

• Jane's Addition's "Summertime Rolls" (a mere 13 times)

Whoop-whoop, I did fine on the GRE!

It's over! It's finally over! I've been agonizing over taking the GRE for like two years! I took the test yesterday after a few weeks of studying and my score was higher than my practice tests. So, yay! I was happy about that. My score was fine!

Getting over that huge obstacle makes me able to focus on my grad school applications again. I've turned in one grad school application so far, and I'll turn in one or two more next week. Then another two in January. I'm applying to two schools on the west coast, two on the east coast, and one in Chicago. It's fun (especially this time of year) to dream about being in another place with a better climate doing something totally different.

Test Stamina Is a Learned Skill

Two more days until I take the GRE. It has been so long since I've taken such a test, and I'm nervous! I've been holed up in my semi-cold apartment practicing math questions, reviewing vocab, writing "i-just-pulled-this-out-of-my-ass" issue arguments. What a weekend.

I'm also trying to rack my brain for "test smart" aids from my college days. One friend told me that eggs are brain food, and that you should eat eggs before an exam. Hmm... better get some. Also, I took a Chinese massage class in college once where the teacher said you should press on this one spot on your head each day. He said it would make you smarter. Maybe he just wanted to know who in the class was gullible? But whatever, I totally press on the spot each day. Also, I read in Malcolm Gladwell's "Blink" that people that visualize themselves as successful and smart right before a test do better than people that visualize themselves doing sports right before a test. Huh?! Well, I might as well try that too...

Gold Tinsel! I Got Gold Tinsel!

I think I got the Christmas spirit because I had to buy this Christmas tree today. There is a little tree lot at the end of my block, so I just went ahead and got this lil' adorable 4 footer. Just in time before the snowstorm...

And the Topper...

Best $13 I ever wasted...
I saw this tree topper at the store and I could not stop laughing...
It's totally tackily awesome and beautiful!

No Pilot Light, But at Least I'm Not Dead

The work is being done in my basement to decentralize the gas utilities. Yesterday, the gas was turned off and when it was turned back on, the workers didn't relight the pilot light. I woke this morning to the delicious smell of gas permeating my kitchen. Whoops. It was supposed to be taken care of today. Maybe someday, I'll have lower gas bills and a non-toxic apartment.

Most Environmental Activity of Late: I Darned My Socks

I am kind of particular about the socks I wear, and I have had a consistent problem when my favorite socks wear down: the big toe area gets a hole in it before the rest of the sock wears out.

For shame, I threw some of these toe-hole socks away because my toe would start to stick out and get cold. As I threw them away, I thought: "what a waste." And I would also wonder, "why doesn't anyone darn socks? what does it mean to darn socks? is that from a Charles Dickens novel or what?"

A quick internet search turned up:
mend: sewing that repairs a worn or torn hole (especially in a garment)

But typical of definitions, it doesn't tell you how to do it. In my mind, darning socks actually involved knitting or crocheting tiny threads to actually weave a new fabric over the area of the hole. Who has time for that?

Then I realized, "there's no darning police. there's no one here who will say my darning method is wrong." So, I just sewed up the hole by stitching one side to the other side. And you know what? It looks fine. And technically, I darned it.

My new ability to darn my toe-holes has saved several pairs of socks from the trash barrel, and has made me feel like my personal policies are more environmentally sustainable since my socks now last a little longer.

Making Friends on the CTA

I had to take a CTA bus to meet up with my Thanksgiving ride on Wednesday of last week. I met some really nice and outgoing people on the bus.

As you know from this blog, I love to eavesdrop in public places. The public conversation on the bus was a good one. I was sitting near the back of the bus and kind of listening to these two guys talking about the high corruption at the Salvation Army. Apparently, they just spent a bunch of money buying mansions for their executives in the suburbs. According to the bus passenger, the execs, and even the employee of the month, drive extremely fancy cars like Hummers, Bentleys, etc. Haven't you seen all those fancy cars in the parking lots? Etc. This guy really had a flair for the dramatic and it was great!

During this conversation, I was sitting in my bus seat, and there was a handsome young guy at the bus door, well-dressed and well-coiffed, who was apprently giving me the eye. When he got off the bus, Mr. Salvation Army was going on and on about how the guy was oogling me and how he should have just said 'hi' instead of staring and how I probably thought he was a sexual predator since he was staring so much but how he might of had a chance if he just said 'hi', etc. etc. He got so extreme with the conversation until I finally had to turn around and acknowledge the discussion.

"Yeah," I said, "he was a cutie. He should have said hi."

This illicited laughter and an enthusiastic, "See! She said he was a cutie! He could have had a chance! Guys don't know how to say 'hi' anymore. Times have changed where sometimes the woman can speak first but some guys don't like it and think the woman is fast, etc. etc."

Another guy on the bus who was sitting with his girlfriend said, "Well, she hollared at me first," and gave his girlfriend a big kiss on the lips.

The conversation went on from there, and Mr. SA and his friends were teasing me about my big suitcase for my short trip and all kinds of other stuff. But it was a friendly and fun exchange that started a great holiday weekend.

But Seriously, A Real Reason to Give Thanks: Lower Gas Bills

Over the past 4 months, I've been in a stressful disagreement with my landlord over the utility set-up in my apartment building. Luckily, it is almost resolved, with an actual end to the problem finally in sight on November 29.

Last year, with the super-spike in gas prices after Hurricane Katrina, my gas bills were between $150-190 during the winter months. The insanely high prices tipped me off that something was wrong with my utility set up, and I received confirmation of this after checking with my downstairs neighbors. (They live in a similar sized apartment, bigger actually, and their bills maxed out at $100/month at the worst.)

While trying to figure out what was happening, I talked to my landlord about it. He denied that there was any problem, blamed me (do you cook a lot? take a lot of showers?), but eventually agreed to give me a small credit of a 25% discount on one month last year. As my utility bills stayed sky-high, I called many non-profit agencies around town that claimed to be energy experts - no one could help. The gas company wouldn't help me either. I was at loose ends and discovered that the dryer to the building was hooked onto my gas utility line. I couldn't find any hard numbers to find out what this was costing me, but my landlord offered to give me "half the quarters" from the coin-op laundry that I was paying the utilities for. I was outraged.

I found out that my summer gas bills, about $50-60/month far exceeded my downstairs neighbors, who were paying $10/month. Because I felt so outraged, and because I felt like my landlord was [not a very nice person], I was planning to move out of the apartment this summer. However, since I liked the actual apartment so much, I told the landlord I would stay in the apartment if only the utilities were metered separately in the basement. I wasn't asking for special treatment, just to pay my fair share instead of paying for a lot of extra people to use the dryer and god knows what else. Various other situations made it difficult for me to move, and the landlord ended up agreeing to meter the utilities separately. He said he would do this during the month of September.

September came and went. So did October. At the end of October, I was feeling furious and betrayed. I sent several letters requesting the work to be done and also for some additional winterizing in my apartment. After I sent a certified letter with my November rent, I finally saw some work happening around the house. The good news is, I ran into my landlord last night, and he mentioned that all the work has been done to rewire the utilities, and that the meter will be installed on November 29. Three months late, but I am so relieved and happy that it is finally happening. This was a mental stressor to me for months and months, and I'm so glad to see a resolution.

It's Thanksgiving; time to give thanks for small favors.

Sometimes I feel despondent about not being all snuggly in a couple (see previous post.)

However, yesterday I realized that things could be worse.

At the gym, there was a young woman a few elllipticals machines away from me. She was obviously there with her fella - a guy who was jogging, but mostly walking around the track. Each time he came around the track (maybe 15 times) he would clap and say rather loudly, "Doing good, hon! You're doing great!" (Clap! Clap!)

How obnoxious! And how patronizing. I mean, she's working out on a machine for 20 minutes, not giving birth! Does she really need that much encouragement? I was embarrassed on her behalf.

How to Break Up With Your Man - Holiday Edition

It's Thanksgiving week, which means the depressing holidays are here. I'm not saying that all holidays are depressing, but some of the obligatory social events can be rather unpalatable, especially as a single woman of a certain age. I was talking with some guy friends at lunch about it today - one married, two in LTRs - and complaining about our work Christmas party.

The place where I work is small - maybe 10 people - and all but 2 are married. In past years, we had a jolly lunch with our colleagues, and then cut out early in the afternoon. This year, a coworker is hosting a Christmas dinner party on Friday night at his/her home. There are several things wrong with this scenario:

1) it does not occur during work hours
2) it implies a much longer time obligation
3) significant others/spouses are invited*

"Well, surely you can bring a guest?" my friends inquired.

I could bring a guest. But, let's face it, is there a faster road to getting dumped than to take a fledging love interest to a work Christmas party? "Hi, everyone. This is Frank. We met online last week on Match.com? He likes traveling, and dog-racing. I think we're meant to be!" Attendance at the office Christmas party definitely requires some kind of pre-determined loyalty, and also probably an agreement of reciprocity that you must attend the other person's Christmas party too. And, you probably owe the person a phat-ass Christmas gift.

For this year's party, I'm considering following in the footsteps of Borat, and perhaps inviting a male escort as my guest. "Hey, ya'll, this is my guy Tito. Oh, you haven't heard me talk about him. Um, isn't he hot and muscular?" At least that would keep it interesting.

*Although, I think the party would actually be better if all the spouses attended. I really like all of my coworkers' spouses. It's purely for selfish reasons of not being part of a couple.

The Blog Crossroads

I've been remiss to put anything of substance on my blog for quite a while now. You know why? Because I think it would probably be a case of TMI. I've been so emotional for the past few months that anyone around me, and probably the only people that check this blog, hear enough about it. You know? I mean, you know who you are, people! (Oh, and thanks for being there for me! Love ya!)

But, do I want to write anything about the new James Bond movie that I saw last weekend? Or the crappy "gotcha" scene in Sucker Bet where some dude puts an alligator in some other dude's car and jumps out when dude's holding a raw steak?! No.

I think I'm at the proverbial Blogger crossroads (1 year later) where I feel like I need to reimagine my blog. Or end it.

"Sucker Bet" update.

Man, this book is corny!

There was a scene when the some crooks try to scare off a detective by putting an alligator in his trunk an a raw steak in the passenger seat. The alligator busts through the back seat to get the steak, and the 60-year old Italian detective uses a judo move to stun the alligator. Uh-huh.

Cold Weather Reading

It's that time of year where the weather gets cold and people retreat indoors. In my view, it is the perfect time to read detective novels and sci-fi novels, both silly and noir. Today I picked up "Sucker Bet" from the library. Whoo-hoo! It starts out in a casino with a "mark" that is being lured to a blackjack table by a red-headed prostitute named "Candy Hart." Ha!

Also, I picked up Percival Everett's "Zulus." This is the line in the cover text that got me,

"Zulus is set amidst the eerie landscape and society that has emerged years after the occurrence of a thermonuclear war, where Alice Achitophel, a 300-pound governement clerk and misfit, has a well-kept secret: she is, perhaps, the last woman alive who is not sterile." Hee!

It's Like Santa Visited Congress

Waking up this morning to the good news of a victory for the Democratic party was like waking up on Christmas Day as a child, and seeing a really awesome toy... that everyone voted for... hmm.

Good Things In Life #33

When I leave for work about 20 minutes earlier than my usual time, I happen upon the sweetest thing. I walk by an elementary school on the way to the train when people are still arriving in the morning. The student crossing guards are still out at the street corners. They must have a policy of helping everyone cross the street. Because when I start to walk across the street, this 5th grader in a fluorescent yellow vest and holding a stop sign, crosses the street with me and officially holds up traffic.

This is so freakin' adorable that I can barely stand it.

I always say "thank you," and I can tell by the kid's response that 1) he isn't used to be thanked, and 2) the situation of helping an adult cross the street garners an awkward! moment. It's hilarious!

Happy Halloween!

Happy Halloween!
I enjoyed dressing up this year as a flight attendant from "Snakes on a Plane." Wheeeee!

Picture this: black suit, neckerchief, flight pin, black pumps, pull suitcase.
And lots and lots of rubber snakes!!!

That's the Spirit! Hee!

One of my favorite house decorations EVER!

A Close-Up Reveals...

I saw this same Halloween decoration last year, and I laughed about it throughout the year, every time I passed this house. A plastic arm on a chain, hanging out of the second story window?!? Grotesque! And, hilarious!!!

Arroz con Pollo

This time, the recipe only took me 2.5 hours to make. I reduced prep time by 30 minutes since the last time I made it. And, yum!

Commuter Reading

Today, I saw a young guy on the train reading a book called, "My Quarter-Life Crisis." Disturbing! Apparently, this is some kind of new marketing phenomenon. A quick search revealed quite a number of young people trying to escape from their personal quarter-life crisis by capitilizing on this idea. See: this, and this, and this.

Sure, there is some truth that a lot of people in their 20s and 30s feel less than stellar all the time. But the packaging of this concept? Ick.

Any thoughts, readers?

Another planter box graveyard.

Skeleton Planter Head.

Monster in a Hosta

Love, the Old Fashioned Way

As I was leaving my office building yesterday, I saw a note taped to the revolving door. The note was addressed, in green marker, to "the girl who likes mopeds." Awww. I was excited for the possibility of romance for the girl who likes mopeds and her admirer, the green marker avenger. In the world of internet dating and "missed connections," seeing a simple love note was truly refreshing!

The Grim Reapaaah!

Another Hanging Ghoul

Zombies Can Make a Statement

Is that overalls-wearing zombie dude smoking? Uh-huh. How do you think he ended up that way?

CAN Beauty Come From a Bottle?

I bought an Evian water at the store this morning.

This is what the label says:
"Can beauty come from a bottle? Drink it and feel yourself bloom.
Evian: your natural source of youth."

Gross! Is subtlety dead?
Sadly, this is not water out of Holy freakin' Grail; it's water out of a plastic bottle. I think the reference to eternal youth is a just a touch heavy-handed. Aren't messages like that supposed to be subliminal?

Scary Midget Pirate in a Cage

This house had relatively bland decor, but for some reason this midget pirate in a pint-sized rusty cage put a stab of fear in my heart. It may not look so creepy from the photo, but trust me - it was!

Skulls at the Gate

A simple way to spook up the house. These skulls on either side of the gate, and the chain winding around between, is the only decoration on this house. It's tasteful, yet festive.

Halloween By Neighborhood

Homemade Tombstones. Freddy Krueger and Count Dracula buried here.
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Halloween is a holiday that is often more fun for adults than for kids. Yeah, kids get to pork out on a lot of candy, but adults get to decorate their yards all crazy and ridiculous, and dress up in fantasy, silly, or weird costumes, and don't have spend a lot of money on gifts for everyone.

I started to notice all the fun ways that people decorate their yards for Halloween, and I'll post some pictures over the next month of the way people express themselves during this zestiest of months!

The Other Side of the Coin

In the recent New Yorker issue (October 9, 2006), I noticed an ad campaign that was actually really smart. The GAP (RED) campaign is sexy, visually consistent in style, and clever with the way it plays with words throughout the advertisement. The spread really peaked my interest and I actually stopped reading my magazine to figure out what it was advertising. I hope the excellent style and interest the ads create actually does something meaningful to raise awareness and a percentage of money for AIDS in Africa. Of any ad campaign, I think it has a good shot at success.

It's Like Nothing You've Seen Before Because It Doesn't Make Any G-D Sense

This morning I was flipping through the October Martha Stewart magazine and I saw an ad that made absolutely no sense. It was a picture of a lady washing her face with a new kind of Dove facial wipes that have a scary amount of things within the wipe - cleanser, exfoliant, toner and moisturizer. The slogan on the ad said: "It's like nothing you've used before because it's like everything you've used before." Huh? Am I supposed to buy this product because I'm too confused to realize what it does? Then I'll be in such a daze trying to figure it out, that I don't realize that I put it in my cart?

That ad was just a few pages away from a Honda car ad that says: "ENVIRONMENTOLOGY: Honda thinking in action." Now, I've been studying for the GRE and I'm pretty sure that "Environmentology" is not a real word, and that Honda thinking in action does not form a complete sentence. Hmm.

The other ad campaign that is totally annoying is the Snickers campaign with made-up words. First of all, the branding style is totally ugly. To see some made-up word like "Snickaterifcellent" on the back of the bus in some ugly-ass huge brown letters when I'm on my morning commute just puts me in a bad mood.

I used to like Snickers.

Not anymore.

It's an interesting advertising technique to try to make people dumber by writing copy that makes no sense, and by making up some fake mispelled words, in order to sell them stuff. I'm going to go out on an optimistic commericial limb and say that it is not going to work. I hope so, anyway.

Miz M Dreams Again

I had a dream that I was walking in a field with a friend, and I saw a beautiful large tree that swept across the landscape. I said to my friend, "I am going to paint that tree in each season so I can capture how it changes."

Too bad I don't know how to paint or draw.

Then another friend of mine, a six-foot tall woman with red hair who, I must say with no intent of offense, is not very sporty. She was walking across the field towards my friend and I when suddenly she busted into about 5 backflips on her way over to say "what's up." It made the dream very funny and silly.

Thanks for the entertainment, brain! You are way better than watching TV on UPN.

Chicago's Sister City: France

I heard a story on NPR this morning about smoking bans in France.
A smoking ban exists, but it's not enforced. Hmm.
Smokers complain. They say smoking is part of French character. They smoke anyway.

That sounds sort of like Chicago. Smoking is banned, except on Saturdays. Or it can only occur in the front of the bar. Or the back. Or depending on the bartender's preference. Or the band that is playing. Or if the place has a "smoke filter" in the room.

Essentially, the only places in the world where people will be allowed to smoke are Chicago and France.

The Unconscious Mind's Veterinarian Who Likes Old Skool Michael Jackson

I had a strange dream last night that I was walking around my neighborhood carrying around a 40-lb dog under my arm, when suddenly her belly swelled because she was going to have puppies. I had to put the dog down and deliver the puppies right there on the street. When I had this dream (in the morning) I was lucid enough to feel irritated thinking: "this is the second dream I had in one night where I had to deliver a dog's puppies. WTF?!?"

I woke up and I realized that if I had to deliver puppies twice in one night, I either missed my calling as a veterinarian, or my unconscious mind is trying to tell me something more symbolic. I think it has to do with a project at work that I'm working on, which requires a lot of analyzing other people's thoughts and synthesizing them to create some new ideas. It's hard mental work! Apparently like delivering a dog's puppies????

I also had another dream last night that I was riding around in someone's car. Michael Jackson's song "Rock With You" was playing and I said, "Haaaay. This is my song."

Bluesy Songs Have the Best Lyrics

Here's a great line I heard today in the song, Been Down Too Long by Scott H. Biram:

"All I want in this creation, is a good lovin' woman and a long vacation."

Ha! That sounds pretty good.

R.I.P. U.P.N., The Network That Is Not the Worst

I don't have cable.

While I enjoy watching television, having cable is not mandatory in Chicago if you are an open-minded t.v. watcher and live in an upper floor apartment. You get all the major networks - ABC, NBC, CBS, FOX - and the minor networks - WB, UPN. There is also two public television channels, and several culturally specific channels - two Asian channels, one that plays Bollywood music videos on weekend, one that plays Polish news and Polish music videos in the evening. The variety is certainly entertaining when one is in the mood for channel surfing.

Before this summer, however, I did most of my "whole show watching" on the WB network, followed with a close second by shows on UPN. And UPN shows were not that good. Imagine my dismay when the two networks merged into the CW network, essentially halving my t.v. show watching opportunities.

The CW network has yet to roll out its new fall programming, but in the meantime, channel 50 has dropped into a television abyss. I thought the old shows on U.P.N. were sort of the worst they could be (excepting the fabulous Veronica Mars.) But U.P.N. was a good back-up. Now, "My Channel 50" has the absolute worst bullshit programming that could possibly be imagined.
They pretty much have two shows: "Fashion House" and "Desire," which they play every night in the 7 p.m. - 9 p.m. time slot. Both of these shows suck. "Fashion House" stretches 5 minutes of story and 20 seconds of women joylessly slapping each other into each 1-hour episode. The rest of the time is filled with choppy scenes of people taking shots, black-and-white stills of Bo Derek arching her eyebrow, and self-referential flashbacks to the current episode throughout the episode.

But at least the guys are hot. I can't even watch "Desire."

I didn't think the programming on channel 50 could get any worse, but I was wrong. So I say to you: R.I.P. U.P.N. I'm sorry I took you for granted.

Picasso Street Eye

Have you ever noticed when someone you know has "an eye" for something. I've known people who have had a super-attuned visual attention for art or architecture, fashion, jewelry, purses, cars, hairstyles, furniture, etc., etc. However, these visually-oriented people don't always have an eye for all things visual. It's pretty interesting what different people attend to with their visual senses.

I think I have a pretty good eye for fashion and jewelry, and am able to identify quality items and appreciate them for their exquisiteness. But when it comes to architecture, I just draw a blank. I have no training in architecture so I have no developed visual vocabulary, and no inherent criteria for valuation that I've developed on my own. But more than that, it is almost as if my eye doesn't see it. If I'm walking down a street, I'm more apt to notice the people on the street - what they are wearing, what they are doing, what they are saying. Secondly, I would notice any wayfinding signage on the street - street signs, street lights, storefronts - because I like to know where I'm going. Third, I might notice the natural elements on the street - plants, gardens, trees, fountains, birds. These are the things that interest me, so these are the things I see; then I'm able to judge them by their visual quality and interest.

Nothing Is Any Better Today Than It Always Is (Which Is Pretty Effing Good)

Farmer's Market Purchases Yesterday:
- oblong tomatoes
- a tart, crisp variety of apples
- french petite green beans

"Is there anything else really good today that I am missing?" I ask my
go-to guy at my favorite produce stand.

"Nothing is better today than it always is," he said.

It was cute because that seems to be his attitude about most things in life. This is a guy in his mid to late 20s who lives his life in a three-phase cycle every year. Phase I: semester of college; Phase II: 4 months of traveling abroad, this year in India; Phase III: a spring and summer of farming and farmer's markets. What a life! And he always seems so happy to live it.

Pork Chop ala Experimental

In light of my previous post, and before I knew anything about Julia Child, I have had one of her cookbooks. Far from her "preferred" in-depth style recipes, it's more of a general "fly by the seat of your pants" type cookbook. It has a little overview of many things, and leaves many details unclear for someone who doesn't know much about the basics of cooking. However, last night I used her tips to make an amazing rub for some surprisingly tasty pork chops. The rub consisted of salt, pepper, all-spice, and dried thyme. Wow! It smelled so spicy and delicious when I rubbed it on!

To fully cook the pork chop, the recipe said to brown it on both sides, which I did. However, I was then supposed to stew it in a slight sauce of white wine vermouth, chicken broth, and shallots. Sounded delicious, but whoops! I didn't have any of those things in the kitchen. The pork chops needed some additional cooking, so I put together a liquid, ahem, "sauce" of a little water, white wine vinegar, vegetable oil, and sliced onions. "I hope I don't ruin it!" I said as I poured it in. It did the job of cooking the pork, the onions softened beautifully, and my little sauce didn't ruin the savoriness of the pork rub marinade. It was delicious! As one who almost always follows a recipe, I was impressed with myself, and truly inspired from trying something new -

Inspired by Julia Child

I finished reading "My Life In France," by Julia Child and Alex Prud'homme. It was lovely and romantic in so many ways! The book is mainly about Julia as a newlywed, and the time in her life when she and her husband moved to Paris. He introduced her to French food and wine, and she fell in love with it. While he was working, she began to experiment with learning to cook, shopping at the French market, and eventually taking courses at the Cordon Bleu. Her descriptions of food, the people that she meets, and her joy in life is contageous; and it is so fun to read about someone discovering her passions and pursuing them with such curiosity and determination. I have a love and admiration now for Julia Child, and for her cooking that feels very personal after reading this book.

The Art and Joy of Argument

In my everyday life, I tend to avoid confrontations and arguments. With some people, I work very very hard to be diplomatic, and to not disagree.

It's refreshing, then, to find people who can understand the art of arguing for fun. Not only do you need to find someone who likes to argue, but that likes to argue in a compatible style for your relationship to that person. Recently, I heard a girl friend say, "I got in an argument with a friend. The friend said, 'I hate you so much, I want to kill you.' " Another girl in the our discussion said, "Wow. I wish I could make someone that mad."

To girl #2, that amount of anger emotion is a strange sign of affection, no?

I like to argue and tease, and talk a little bit of shit. For some reason, this seems to go over better with my men friends. They seem to be able to take it more in stride, and get a bit of banter going without emotional consequences. With most of my female friends, it seems more difficult to get the argument rapport and sense of understanding that light arguing is just for fun, for intellectual practice, to sharpen the wit, or just to relieve tension about something else.

The Brooklyn Bridge at night

I love these street food carts

Mustard Greens at Union Square Market

At a pizza place in Brooklyn

Farmer's Market in Union Square

New York City Ethnic Food Tour

I just got back into Chicago from a week in New York City. Despite the rather cloudy and rainy weather, it was a great trip. My good buddy A**** who lives there took me on an ethnic food and neighborhood tour of New York. It was wonderful!

We ate a fresh lunch a sandwich/salad in SoHo, southern Indian food in the "Curry Hill" neighborhood, upscale iced chocolate on the Upper West Side, Moroccan chicken tagine in Bayridge (Brooklyn), yuppie brunch in Park Slope (Brooklyn), gyros in Astoria (Queens), pizza and ice cream in Dumbo (Brooklyn), and peach waffles in New Canaan, Conneticut. We walked a lot, and even went to a few musuems.

It was a wonderful trip, but it's great to be home.
I'll post a few flix soon!

A Romantic Dessert

A new *friend* brought over this chocolate espresso tart and plated it with raspberries. The raspberries were spritzed with lime juice, which just made the whole thing - the taste, the look of the food, and the thought that went into the preparation - quite amazing!

Ride to Live, Live to Ride

Seriously?!

I see now why people love riding motorcycles! This image on the right is similar to my the look of my new motorcycle helmet. Hee! There is something so awesome about cruising along a winding river in the countryside, passing acres of green cornfields, and feeling the wind on your face and through your clothes while sitting on the back of a motorcycle.

My first independent jewelry project. A pair of brass earrings!

If You've Got A Dollar Bill In Your Hand, You've Got A Friend

That's a lyric from a blues song I'm listening to right now. Hmm. So true -

------
Yesterday I saw a squirrel wrestling a humongous sunflower trying to... I don't know take it to his hibernating place?? He was trying so hard to drag it, but it was probably twice his size and would have last him all winter. Eventually, he gave up and now it is just sitting in shambles in the backyard.
-------

The Place to Sell Junk for Cash

Receipt from the scrap yard.

Metal junk, that is.
I had to revive the Fridge Smellification Committee earlier this week in order to dispose of the old office mini-fridge that didn't close. I did extensive research (10 phone calls) to find out where I could dispose of the mini-fridge to ensure that it would be recycled. I found a scrap collection business (Bucktown Recycling) that reportedly would recycle a mini-fridge, and arranged with a coworker to drop it off there.

We drove up to the joint, which was an organized mayhem of scrap collectors with their shopping carts full of cans, abandoned car mufflers, burned-out alternators, and all kinds of metal stuff. There was sort of a line where people waited to put their metal on the scale to weigh it, and then they would get a cash payout based on the weight and type of metal. Our mini-fridge weighed in at 54 lbs. of "iron", which I thought would result in a decent payout based on what I could see other people getting. The guy behind the glass handed me the receipt above, and counted out $1.62 for my efforts.

Fresh plums and armenian cucumber.

Things Are Looking Up

These past two weeks have been really tough. There was a lot of crap I was trying to deal with in almost every aspect of my life - my living situation, my job, my friends. To top it off, I got a summer cold in the 95 degree heat. I was starting to feel uber-depressed, cry, have insomnia, etc., etc. and I just didn't feel like myself. Finally, the wave broke today and things are looking up. I can't say exactly what helped me turn the corner - perhaps it was taking three hours last night to immerse myself in cooking a delicious and complex arroz con pollo recipe. Perhaps it was the cheer up summer 2006 music mix I made for myself. Perhaps it was taking enough Wal-phed to have the clarity to notice these beautiful flowers. In any case, thankfully, things are looking up!

More Cheap Crap Made In China

I went to a warehouse sale for American Science and Surplus today. What I was expecting was really cool tools, bubbling beakers, odd contraptions that would salt my food for me, all on sale.

What I found was bunch of cheap crap made in China.

A backpack without a top: $2.50. A blue light-up plastic Buddha for the dashboard: $1.00. A rubber rat bean bag: $0.75.

I'll admit that I put a few of the blue light-up Buddhas in my basket for about 2.2 seconds. At first I thought: they might make a great gift for someone. But who? Someone that I hate? And since I've been trying to reduce the negativity in my life, I put them back on the shelf.

Creeps on the Train, Hot Weather Breakdown

It has been so hot for the past week and people's patience is wearing thin.
The trains have been slow and packed and having some sweaty person's backpack pressing up against you while you're pressed against the door sometimes is just too much. The hot weather and short tempers make everyone on the train a creep.

Guy with a backpack: creep.
Guy doing crossword: creep.
Lady with imitation YSL bag: creep.

I can't wait for this heat to break.

Floating Islands at the Diversey Avenue Turning Basin

I helped install this project last week. Cruise by and see it - it's a really cool thing for the Chicago River.

Hot Weather Strategy #1

To avoid snapping off and being hot weather crazy like all those other people, Miz M recommends:

walking real slow and visualizing the ocean.

People Get Crazy In This Hot Weather, Baby

Just saw a man on lunch hour standing around smoking a pipe. A pipe!
It's 99 degrees and dude is smoking a pipe!
This is not a moment to reflect, sir! It's days like this that you should switch to cigarettes!

Miz M is in the field this week

I've been outdoors all week for work and play, and thus been away from computers and much to blog about. This week I went fish sampling in downtown Chicago. We found several medium-sized large mouth bass, a white perch, and some blunt-nosed minnows along with some junk fish. It was amazing! I also rode on a barge, and helped install a floating wetland near Lathrop Homes. Unfortunately, I have no pictures to share!

Mardi Gras Beads, BluBlockers, and a Photo of a Naughty Nurse

I've seen/heard a few crazy characters this week, but nothing so notable to warrant more than this list:

1) I was in Evanston on Wednesday and about to put a quarter into a parking meter when a lady in her 40's rushed up to me asking for spare change. She seemed well-dressed, but was wearing shiny plastic mardi gras beads. All I could think was: is this a sociology graduate student at Northwestern University doing a project? What's up with the mardi gras beads? Would a real person that needs my change be wearing that?

2) I went out to a bar this week with a group of friends. It was pretty much just our group, and one other young dancing guy, and another older woman with a long jean skirt and BluBlocker sunglasses. Was this the mother of the dancing guy? A Mrs. Robinson-esque situation? She glommed onto our group and was dancing with us, told a man in our group that I was a "classy lady" (all true), and fed us a line about the old days in Las Vegas. Apparently, that was before women had to be 6'11" tall like nowadays. And, um, when showgirls wore BluBlockers? Uh-huh.

3) One of my aunts was in town last week and her and her family (husband, three kids, plus another cousin) stopped by my apartment unexpectedly. This aunt is of the extremely liberal variety: she lives on a commune (no flush toilets) and councils college women re: eating disorders and other gender issues. It's great! She definitely lives by her beliefs. However, I suspected that she was not too pleased when she saw a photo of me from Halloween - naughty nurse outfit, blond wig. Whoops! Not a liberal-leaning costume, really. And I thought, her opinion of this is probably similar to another aunt who is extremely conservative. Blood is blood, you know?

Creep While Driving: 3rd Time Is Still Not A Charm

What is it with these driving creeps?
Yesterday, I encountered another creep in the car.

I was driving to my jewelry class and I was waiting at a stoplight, minding my own business. I keep hearing a little friendly "beep-beep" honking from the car next to me, which I assumed was to geared towards a lady with a stroller who was trying to cross the street. When she crossed, and the person kept honking, I looked over.

"I hope this is not out of line," the man stuttered, "but I think you're really beautiful."
"Thanks," I said, and turned away.
But he kept talking.
"I was wondering if you wanted to go out to lunch or dinner sometime. Do you want to have lunch or dinner?"

"No, I don't think so," I said.

Being hit on while driving is a new phenomenon I've started experiencing only this summer. It does seem like a more old fashioned way of trying to get dates, I suppose. An alternative for those people who "don't want to meet someone in a bar," and for whom the Internet just isn't reaping the return in dates that one expected. But meeting someone from the car? How likely is that to work?

If I had to repeat that situation again, I might handle it differently. Instead of rejecting him flat-out, I should have proposed that we have a "driving date." He could drive around in his car; I'll drive around in mine. Then, we can both blog about it. No awkward conversations. No real interactions.

Now if I only got his license plate number...

Copper Pin

My second jewelry project.

D-O-G spells Urngh?!?!?

I saw my 10-month old cousin on Monday night. She has two little snaggle tooths in her bottom jaw. She stands up while holding onto things; she crawls; she sticks out her tongue a lot, but she doesn't make many verbal-type noises yet. I was playing with her with some toys (an Everbody Poops rattle???) and I decided that I was going to try to teach her something to encourage talking. Why not experiment on the kid?

She has these foam letters and numbers that interlock together to spell words. I tried to link all the letters "A-B-C-D-E" together to tell her what's up with the letters of the alphabet. But she was totally bored by all that, so I moved on to spelling some words. The nearest letters I could find were the ole "D-O-G." Perfect! An easy three letter word that could be demonstrated with a sound, "Ruff! Ruff!"

"D-O-G!" I spelled, "Dog! It spells dog! Ruff! Ruff!" She looked at me with biggest wrinkle in her eyebrow, and her lip stuck out with her two little snaggle tooths pointing north and south. I could tell that this was the face she makes when her neurotransmitters are firing full throttle. I wish I could say that I witnessed her first word right then: "dog!" But no. She hasn't even said "daddy" yet. But after our little learning session, she did make some loud baby yells of excitement. "Urgnh! Ugrunh! Uuuuughgh!" Which I felt was some serious progress.

Metalsmithing Class #2 - Copper sawing

Today in my metalsmithing/jewelry class we learned about roller printing and sawing copper. I don't have a pretty picture for you this time because we didn't finish the project. First we imprinted the copper with some sort of textured thing. The most interesting imprint that I found was by pressing a piece of thick lace tablecloth between two copper pieces in the rolling machine. Zowie! It kind of looked like a textured animal print. Like a alligator. But, again, made from a scrap of tablecloth.

Then we had to saw the copper with these microscopic saws into a predetermined shape. It was really hard! Both because I used my hands in a new physical way (hand cramps!) and also because of the complexity of learning a new activity - left hand clamping the copper, right hand relaxed but upright with the wrist cocked back while sawing. It was so hard to keep the right hand relaxed even though it really helped with the sawing! And the concentration required of course made for the crunched shoulders, bad posture, and the lil' tongue sticking out of the side of the mouth.

A lot of the ladies in the class decided just to stick with rings because they were so frustrated. I enjoyed the challenge, however. It got me tensed up and excited about something not related to drama about work or dating. Also, the concept and experience of working with metal is interesting and weird in and of itself. I always thought metal was so rigid, but it turns out that it is quite malleable and there are many tricks to easily changing its form. It's kind of mysterious and cool.

Sparkles on the water.

Our friend, the bald eagle.

Kebob Cook

Orange flowers and moss

Orange beach flower

Miz M has been on va-cay!

That's right. I've been on vacation from work and other responsibilities for about a week and a half. The mental break has been delicious, and much needed, and has also dissipated the need for blog rants. Go figure.

There were some good things that happened that I will blog about. In addition to my jewelry project, I saw some magestic bald eagles on vacation. I had to wait 1.5 hours in line to buy a Chicago city sticker, but made friends with some really funny people. I went to a wedding. But mostly, I had some time off work to do what I felt like doing, when I felt like doing it.

High Ho! - My First Metalsmithing Project

It's a flower ring! I made this in three hours in my first jewelry class!

The Downside of Writing Notes To Neighbors...

This is a note I got from my neighbor when I arrived home last night:

Hi Miz M!
I used two of your pots outside... if that's not cool please let me know!
You are welcome to take a bit of the harvest...
Tomatoes, nasturums (flowers that taste like radish, good in salad) and various herbs.

Hope your enjoying the flowers,
xxxxxx

Only thing is... what? I've been super busy with work, and I'm not home that much. But I live in a small enough building that my neighbors know when I'm home. (Also, their two dogs bark everytime I come and go.) So, I'm wondering why my neighbor didn't just ASK me about this BEFORE she planted her crap in my pots. I actually DO want to use these pots, and I AM actually pissed that this chick didn't ask me before she decided to use them. I mean, come on. Pots cost like $2, and I know she went out to buy the plants.

It almost becomes one of those things that I want to make a big deal out if it just out of principle. And what will I lose? Access to surplus "flowers that taste like radish." That's a big loss.

World Cup - Where to Watch During the Work Day?

I've been getting into the World Cup a bit this year. I watched the U.S. v. Czech Republic game on Monday and found it to be really exciting. (Until the Czechs scored goal #2. Then it was just depressing! But the drama! The tension! The "Goooooool!" yell on the spanish channel playing the game...)

The athletism of soccer is amazing. The players are so agile. And, well, hot. (Though some of those guys on the Czech team need a visit to the team barber.) So, with the desire of being a temporary superfan, I'm on a quest to find a good place to watch a portion of the 2:00 p.m. games on my lunch hour. I work in the South Loop and tried the Billy Goat Tavern yesterday. What a bust!
The game was on, and the sound was being piped into the place, but the drunken yahoos were just too rowdy for a Wednesday afternoon.

Bald Is Still Beautiful in the Lakeview Neighborhood

The Marshalls store on Clark and Diversey is full of gorgeous, gender-bending bald people! Apparently, a bald head is a requirement to work there?

The fitting room attendant was a ferocious round bald black man with super thick combed brows and magenta lipstick. When he stepped away from the dressing room, he was then replaced by a tall, lanky, strong, androgynous bald black woman with gorgeous lips but no lipstick.

At the check-out was a talkative white, bald precocious lesbian with a lot of tattoos, who was working her baldness with a lot of style. Now if only Marshalls made "bald is beautiful" a national campaign...

Love of Words

I was hanging out with some local artists on Saturday night and they were telling some hilarious stories about different arty and cultural groups - puppeteers, carnies, and "renies." But they were really complaining about the artists known as poets. Because they are undisciplined - "I wrote this on the train" - and egotistical - "Everything I do is genius."

I don't really understand that much poetry. And I don't believe that there are still existing "poets." Call me a cynic, but if someone introduced himself/herself to me as a poet, my brain would automatically translate "poet" into "crazy." But I can be judgemental like that.

So I thought it was really funny when I woke up on Sunday morning dreaming about reading a poem off a printed page. As I was waking up, some of the words came to me, as did the meaning of the poem, and I thought them brilliant in a special lucid way as I could only in the moment emerging from a dream. I pulled the creative words out of the dream world, and wrote them down on the back of an envelope near my bed. Unfortunately, I only remembered the second stanza, but the pure joy I found in the flow, structure, and meaning of the words when I was waking up gave me such an immense feeling of sastisfaction. "It IS genius," I thought! "I am a poet!" Genius! Ego! How easy it is to believe oneself a poet.

Surfing in Lake Michigan? A girl after my own heart.

I saw this girl swimming on her surfboard on my way home from work on Wednesday. I couldn't figure out what she was doing. There weren't any big waves for her to practice on, but she was swimming on her board really fast along the Fullerton/Diversey beach areas. It was a beautiful surfboard, and she looked like she was having a ball.

Eye Empathy

I've always had a condition called "eye empathy."
Self-diagnosed.

I explain this to people by saying that when I see someone with pink eye or watery eyes or something, my eyes start to itch, or water, or do whatever gross thing the other person's eye is doing. I also have an extreme fear of those tests at the eye doctor when they take a picture of your retina, or squirt the puff of air in your eye. I totally panic. Not sure what this fear has to do with eye empathy, but let's just say there is a psychological connection.

Eye empathy.

I went to the eye doctor today after work. I've always found the doctors and dentists in Chicago to provide super-great medical care. This eye doctor was no exception. Except, the visit made me wonder, do doctors make people more paranoid? Maybe the doctors here are so good, that they give you a bunch of extra stuff to worry about that they can now detect with their added knowledge and cutting edge technology. Is it truly helpful to us patients?

I have a lot of friends who consider themselves hypochondriacs. I usually poo-poo this condition. If I paid attention to every little pain I had, I'd be a hypochondriac too. But I just ignore it, and 9 times out of 10, the pain and the accompanying paranoia go away.

So my eye doctor told me that the tiny little oil glands in my lower eyelid were getting clogged and creating little (invisible to me) bumps. However, I can treat this by putting a hot washcloth over my eyes every night to unclog the glands. Gross! But also, weird? If I don't do the hot washcloth preventative, I may get a sty, said the doctor. If I get a sty, I would have to do the hot washcloth treatment on my eyes 4 times a day.

"This might explain why your eyes are dry," said the doctor.

So, of course I come home tonight and do the hot washcloth thingy thinking, "Hmmm, my eyes are really dry. They feel tired. Maybe I'm sleeping too much which is why I have insomnia and I'm not really tired when I go to bed but just my eyes are tired 'cause the little gland thingys are blocked with oil and stuff."

Is identifying this problem really helpful? I probably won't keep up the wash cloth thingy, definitely not every night, and now I have to think about getting a sty? Or maybe I'll never get a sty and my eyelid glands will unclog themselves. Is knowing better than not knowing? I think this may be a case of ignorance is bliss...

Mirror on the Mind

I couldn't be a perfectionist because I'm so far from being perfect. It would just be too hard to live in constant disappointment to myself.

Mirror of Appearances, Part II

At a party last weekend, a friend was telling a story about how she went out with her coworker who happens to have enormous hooters.

"It was a whole different experience," she said, "because all the guys would check out her [hooters] before anything else, while I'm used to the all-over glance-over from face to feet. It made me wonder," she continued, "what it would be like to have a different body type or shape."

"That's not so weird, Miz M," you might be saying to yourself. "There's been whole mess of movies with that subject. Ever heard of "Big" or "Vice Versa" or "Freaky Friday"? What about those reality shows like "Wife Swap"? Everyone wonders what it might be like to be in someone else's shoes."

But I will tell you that this woman comes in pretty nice natural packaging. In my mind, she was really asking, "what would it be like to be ugly or fat?" I feel like I've heard other attractive women muse about this type of thing. Because I don't think anyone that is unattractive would say that type of thing aloud to their friends. After all, there is pride involved! And, by the time one is in their mid to late 20s, I would think that they would have developed other charms. Like say, a sense of humor, good story telling skills, intelligence, or charisma to bridge the gap of not being thin and attractive or having enormous hooters. It seems to me that people that are super attractive get stuck on how their appearance affects their lives much more than other people. But maybe I'm just naive...

Mirror of Appearances, Part I

I biked to work today. It takes about an hour, and I bike along the lake. And it brings me pure joy.

For the first week, it was just about getting in shape and accomplishing the task. Now that I'm a little more used to the exercise, it frees up my mind to think about more important things. However, I also work up a ferocious sweat. Especially in this Chicago humidity.

Since the A/C has been "broken" (read: non-existent) in my old-ass office building, I had a major decision to make this morning. Do I walk over to the coffee shop and get my coffee in my sweaty biking clothes? Or, do I change first, but risk sweating in my office clothes since it will be hot as hell in the building and I will have had no chance to cool down. I opted for option 1.

"It's still early!" I thought, "no one in the coffee shop will care if I'm in my biking clothes. It's an independent coffee shop!"

Well, I was wrong about that as this coffee shop has an air of prestige (read: pretention) thicker than the 80% humidity. I have never seen more poo-poo faces as I did when I got my coffee today. Get over it, poo-poo face!!!

Beautiful Signs of Summer

I walked down to the river yesterday by River Park, after the late afternoon rain had subsided. I wanted to see how high the water had risen after the rain. When I was there, I saw two black-crowned night herons, some seagulls and swallows, and a juvenile green heron skipping around the rocks looking for something good to eat. I also saw many big brown bass, swimming over each other and over the submerged concrete edges of the North Branch dam, flipping their tails and some even trying to flip themselves over the barricade. It gave me a feeling of freshness and excitement to get back out on the river this year.

Summertime rant: It's called a goddam leash.

Hi.
This Memorial Day weekend has been fabulous. Great summery weather. Great food at BBQs around the city. Bike riding. Swimming. Awesome.

I have one small complaint, though, and it has to do with you people who have dogs. It's called a goddam leash, people. Yeah, your dog is cute. Sure, your dog is friendly. You may even think your dog is well-behaved enough to trot along the beach or lake path without a leash. Well, it's not.

I like dogs as much as the next person. Really. But it is just inconsiderate to let your dog run around in a public park running up to people, shaking off water, sniffing around. It makes me nervous. And it's rude. If it's on a leash, I know that you have control of the goddam beast and I and all the members of the public who don't know your dog will be much happier.

Thanks.

Dating Makes You Feel "Human"

Rather uncharacteristically, I've been going on a lot of dates over the past 4 months. Dating can be really fun (the kissing, the new conversations, the surprises) and frustrating (is he going to call?, is he going to kiss me?, the surprises), but it can also be full of awkward-a-mundo situations.

I've been hesitant to blog about some of these experiences because I've made the mistake of telling some of my dates about my blog, and I haven't wanted to bring up embarrassing moments at an inopportune time that could cause a preemptive end in the dating timeline. However, some time has elapsed since some of these dates, so here are some awkward-a-mundo highlights:

1. I was sitting on the beach with a date. We were having a serious conversation - too serious - about past relationships or something like that. Suddenly, a large seagull started making a racket as he was doing it with another seagull, right there on the beach. It created a special layer of date mood awkward.

2. I went on a bike riding date with a guy. Five minutes into the ride, he starts talking about how he ran out of his special cyclist shammy (read: testicle) cream, so he was very concerned about chaffing on the bike ride. In all honesty, he did this to be funny, and as an "icebreaker", but still, um, embarrassing!!!

There are a few other stories that are a little more involved, so maybe I'll blog about them some other time. But needless to say, dating can bring me up to the height of excitement and anticipation, and down the the depths of awkward, but always reminds me of the laughableness of being human.

Neighbor Breakthrough + Increased Peace of the Street!

I had a good neighbor breakthrough with my downstairs neighbors yesterday. As I've posted previously on my blog, we've had some problems in the past.

It turns out that we just needed an opportunity to be united for a cause against something else instead of each other. It turns out that the something else was a big-ass pile of garbage in the alleyway from the 5 a.m. restaurant that sits next door to us.

After a week or so of the garbage piling up at this place, critters galore - birds, mice, rats, - were starting to pick at the 10+ garbage bags sitting in the alley. While I enjoy seeing urban wildlife like blue herons and foxes, I don't want the alley near me to be the breeding and feeding grounds of the urban zoo.

So yesterday, I gave my Alderman a buzz and the garbage was gone by the end of the day. Yessss! It turns out my neighbor had called them too. She thought she was crazy-complaining and being ridiculous about it. She was assured that I had called them too and therefore felt newfound feelings of friendliness towards me. You see, her and her partner just moved from Madison, where it is uncouth to call the cops on a party, or call the Alderman about a trash problem. Well, here's your first (?) lesson to assuage your liberal guilt. Welcome to the big city where every bitch has to work together to increase the peace of the street!

Cadillac Cigar Man

I was driving around on the south side on Saturday morning. I pulled up at a light at 67th and Halsted, next to a Cadillac that had been swerving around like crazy. I had my windows down, and was blasting a band called "Stars" (sort of pop indie rock) on my car radio.

The Cadillac man got my attention. When I looked over, he was dressed in black, with a red stocking cap, and smoking a big ole cigar. Just as cool as a cucumber, he says,

"I tried to call you last night. Where were you?"

Seeing the possibility of an interesting exchange I said with a smile, "I was busy with my boyfriend."

"Well," he said, "I was with my girlfriend when I called you."

I shrugged.

"So I guess we were all on three-way," he said. "Turn to 92.3 on the radio."

"92.3?" I said, "What's that?"

"Just turn to it," he said.

So I put on 92.3 and it was a hard rap song, a gangster rap song.

"This song is pretty good," I said.

"I'll make you a CD," he said.

I just laughed.

Finally, the light turned green and I was able to make my left turn.

"It was nice talkin' to ya. Have a good one," I said.

He honked in reply.

May I recommend a hot toddy for that?

I work with a lot of volunteers for my job. In fact, I directly manage and work very closely with over 40 volunteers for 8 or so months of the year. These people range in age from teenagers to retired men and women in their 60s, and each person is pretty different. Overall, I really enjoy the group, and their range of experiences and personalities often offer me entertainment.

Last weekend, the organization I work for had a big event, but my portion of the event (involving some of my volunteers) was cancelled the day before. To make sure that everyone knew that our portion of the event would be cancelled, I phoned each person and sent them an email to this fact. The main event still occurred, and one of the volunteers, "Matthew," came up to me at the event and confronted me about why I didn't tell him our part of the event was cancelled.

"Matthew," I said, "I talked to you yesterday on the phone to tell you it was cancelled. At the time, you were reading the email I sent out to that same effect."

"But I thought the email said that the event wasn't cancelled."

"Matthew," I said, "the title of the email was 'Cancelled - X portion of this event.'"

"It was?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Oh. I've had insomnia this week so I've been taking Ambien. That's the second conversation that I've completely forgotten."

Ooops. Maybe he should have tried the hot toddy method before he went the pharmaceutical route!

Unfortunately, on the same day we talked on the phone he also offered to contribute $750-$1000 to my organization. He's going to have some beef with Ambien if that charge shows up unexpectedly on his credit card bill!

Colossus of Maroussi

I had to take a break from "Cat's Eye." Though it is a faciniating and deeply interesting book, it was disturbing my sleep!

I picked up "The Colossus of Maroussi" at the library yesterday and it is the perfect pick-me-up. Henry Miller writes a very entertaining travelogue-type book, totally romanticizing his travels to Greece, and especially the people that he meets. Though his prose contains a lot of bullshit, he does it in the absolutely most entertaining way that makes this a great read!

Miller was a friend of Lawrence Durrell, who wrote the Alexandria quartet. Durrell's books are fiction, and take place in exotic lands. They are about anglo people living in these lands, and the complexities of their emotional and sexual relations.

Durrell and his wife show up in "Colossus", as background companions, but also in a kind of name-dropping sort of way. But, Miller's writing about people is much more about enjoying their zest for life than Durrell's chaotic relationships. All things being equal, I enjoy reading about the former with more delight!

Going Postal

Much has been written about the volitile nature of postal employees, but what about postal customers? I think they can be just as crazy, if not worse!

Money on the Mirror - Cat's Eye

I'm reading the book Cat's Eye right now, which I'm borrowing from a friend.
(Part of my book project mentioned here and here.)

Anyway, it's a book by Margaret Atwood, and she has a very hypnotic writing style. The book is fascinating, though somewhat heavy in mood, as it is a reflection on middle age and growing up as a girl and not understanding the culture of girls, for lack of a better term.

But there is one section that provided a potentially great image, that should totally be appropriated into some kind of ironic comedy. It's really brilliant -

In the scene, the narrator is trying on some clothes in a fitting room, and she is not too jazzed about it. She writes, "If I ran a store like this I'd paint all the cubicles pink and put some money into the mirrors: whatever else women want to see, it's not themselves; not in their worst light anyway."

Elevator Creeps

At the building where I work downtown, the rent is cheap and there are creeps aplenty.

There are two "creep zones" where one is apt to encounter the building creeps: in the elevator or in the bathroom.

The ladies in my office and I try to avoid creep encounters by going to the bathroom in packs. (There is not a bathroom on every floor.) Yesterday though, I had to go it alone. My ride down the elevator to the bathroom was fine, but I encountered a building creep while waiting for the elevator on the way back to my floor.

"When's the last time you went dancing?" said the creep.

"Uh, not for awhile," I said.

"Why not?" said the creep.

"Um, I've been really busy doing other stuff," I said.

"Oh. Well I was going to go last weekend up on Lincoln, but I was tired and I didn't have anyone to go with," said the creep.

"Oh. Well, bye," I said and got off the elevator.

I've had more than one conversation like this in the office elevator. Not about dancing, but some elevator creep will start a random conversation with a weirdo topic far removed from the acceptable elevator pleasantries. Acceptable elevator talk includes the following declarative statements:

• "It's rainy today."
• "It's Monday."
• "Someone got stuck in the elevator yesterday."
• "Why don't these goddam elevators ever work?"

When someone starts a conversation outside of these norms, my strategy is to pretend like whatever the person says is perfectly normal, while also avoiding stating any personal information. I just pick up the conversation and then exit the elevator as soon as possible, hopefully not creeped out.

Hot Toddies and White Noise - Old Fashioned Sleep Aides

I've been having a lot of trouble sleeping this week. I'll be exhausted, go to bed early, and then wake up at 4 a.m. or 5 a.m. totally restless. I think it has to do with my earlier physical exhaustion and fatigue, but also with the sun rising at an earlier hour, birds chirping, etc., etc., all that good spring stuff.

But I'll also have stressed-out dreams. The kind where I get pissed at my subconscious for wasting my sleeping time. Like dreaming that I'm really angry and anxious that the train is so slow. Don't I spend enough time doing that when I'm awake?

So I decided to buy some whiskey after work, and make a hot toddy before I go to bed. And get a fan to provide some sleep-inducing white noise. Forget the Tylenol PM, the Lunestra, Paxil, or whatever. I'll try these old fashioned methods, hopefully with some success.

Biking High, Then Exhaustion

I went biking yesterday from the north side all the way up to the Botanic Gardens and Highland Park. 31 miles! I love to spend all day outside, and push myself to the physical limit. It's fun! And it was a great ride!

However, I'm getting to an age where I don't bounce back as quickly from this type of thing. After I biked to the point of exhaustion, my friend and I then ate a chicken finger dinner and had a glass of beer. Whoops.

Now, it's Monday and I'm feeling all sick. I threw up this morning and just feel physically exhausted and run down. What was I thinking eating chicken tenders and beer after all that exercise and sunburn? So after a nap, I downed a whole bunch of Gatorade and homemade chicken soup for what it was worth in my recovery. I also slept an additional 4-6 hours today.

So next time I bike 31 miles, I'm going to take it a little more seriously. Drink Gatorade instead of beer. Eat veggies instead of fried chicken. Because, well, exercise shouldn't have to be that hard!

"First Gear, It's Alright..."

Well, I've been totally uninspired of late by the general public. Public, why haven't you been saying crazy things to make me laugh and make me blog?

Luckily, that changed at the gym today.
There was a skinny Asian man with a mustache who was jogging around the track and singing along to his disc-man. Awesome! He was singing out lines like "First gear, it's alright... second gear, hang on tight..." and "eight days a week...". And he was wearing a shirt that said "Big Daddy."

Canoeing on a river

Afternoon by a river

Fashion A-bomb - Pink Jean Jacket

I saw another fashion a-bomb on the CTA this morning.

A Man.
Wearing.
A Pink Jean Jacket.

Why? How did he even find a pink jean jacket in his size? Where did he even find one outside of 1987?

I can see wearing it for the irony, or the humor or something. Actually, no I can't.
He couldn't work the pink jean, because in truth, no one can. Not a woman. Not a hipster. Not a 5-year-old girl. Pink jean should have died with the career of Tiffany.

Playgrounds are Plazas Too

I went biking on Sunday along the river lake path on the North side. I've been biking there more often as spring has sprung and am amazed by the number of people that hang out in the parks along the river.

I've seen: some ladies plein aire painting. A traditionally dressed muslim couple pushing a stroller, followed shortly by a hasidic mother and son strolling too. An intense ultimate frisbee game. The most populated areas are playground areas, which have their own plaza type function. Kids play on the equipment while older brothers and sisters, muslim mothers, or whomever sit along the sides and gab.

Chicago - a city of plazas?

I love plazas. I love hanging out in plazas, spending time reading a book, or drinking coffee, or observing other people, or chatting with a friend.

I often associate the social and design elements of a good plaza with European cities, so I've never really thought of Chicago as a city with good plazas. But a walk around the Loop and along the Chicago River yesterday made me reconsider some of the great public spaces downtown.

As spring unfolds, more should be said about Chicago's plazas. And Miz M will say it! The Valve Blog will bring you some descriptions of local plazas, including descriptions of seating areas, plantings, water elements, how people use the plazas, and where they are located. So stay tuned -

Today I visited the plaza at the Board of Trade.
Things that make it nice:

• Working fountain
  
• Large number of orange and yellow tulips in many bench-type planter boxes, and a number of shade trees
  
• Signifcant width of plaza that lets sunlight into some areas
• Many people
• Relatively clean - no garbage in seating areas
  

Things that suck about it:

• Smokers
• People talking business on their cell phones
• People wearing those trader jackets
• Bench seats are not very comfortable for more than quick lunching
  

"You still a doll, you still a doll"

I was walking back from lunch today and a guy asked me if I felt like giving him some change. I was going to say no, but I had a dime in my pocket so I put it in his cup.

"Sorry, it's not a lot," I said.

"That's okay. You still a doll. You still a doll."

More sights on the Chicago River downtown

Some workmen working on the Civic Opera Building downtown...

Don't mess with this seagull!

Conan having lunch on the riverwalk!

Conan O'Brien and Mr. T canoeing on the Chicago River. Whoo!

Quote of the Day

"Nothing but honey is sweeter than money."
- Benjamin Franklin

Fridge Smellification Committee - A Workplace Necessity

I formed a Fridge Smellification Committee at my office. It's a committee of one. (Me.)

The FSC has total power and control over our office mini-fridge. Which isn't that great of a job because it really entails monitoring the fridge for nastiness, moldy leftovers, and expired milk. Also, the mini-fridge does not close, which causes the ice from the freezer to melt all over the other stuff in the fridge. Running the FSC is a thankless job, to be certain.

Because of the heinous state of our fridge, I took it upon myself to find another used fridge in the classified ads. I arranged to pick up the fridge, and pay $50 for it. Again, a pretty thankless job.

When I make the switch from heinous fridge to not-yet-heinous fridge, I've threatened my co-workers that I will throw their shit away. I wrote them in an email:

I will not transfer your stuff into the new fridge.

I will throw it away.

This includes all the little condiment things that are in there like peanut butter and mayo and dressing and whatever else including tupperware.

A coworker's wife took this to another level at her office, when it was her turn to clean the fridge. Her method was actually calling out the disgusting stuff that she had to throw away. Hilarious! See her text below:

I already threw out the following:

• very large take-out container with small 1 inch piece of tofu(?) - why did you save this?
• rotten CB tuna salad
• moldy rice&beans mix in a small quality tupperware (it is soaking on the sink if you want to claim it)
• mayonnaise jar (best before August 30, 2004) - please don't tell me someone was still using this, there is a perfectly fine one that only expired last week on the door. ;)

Here is what I found that I will probably pitch on Friday if it isn't claimed/labeled:

• small tupperware w/ white mystery sauce
• medium old-school tupperware w/ end of chili
• bag of organic salad mix (turning brown and slimy)
• 4 square sandwich size containers with respectively: 1 egg, 1/2 chicken breast, cooked veggie mix that is rotting, weird white slime, and meat/veggie/pasta leftovers.
• slimy ham in drawer - your sliced gouda is still ok, but I would eat it soon

Kiss this Carp - Fish Sampling in Plano, IL

A large-scaled ...something or other...

On Friday, I went fish sampling with a couple of great guys from the DNR. The way this worked was that the backpacks shown in the pictures carried a gas powered motor which ran an electric current down the poles (orange and yellow.) The electric current temporarily paralyzes the fish (about 10 minutes) so they stop swimming. One guy nets the fish when they are paralyzed, and puts them in the blue tub shown below. Once the guys sample the area, they count the fish they found, note the species, and mark some of the bigger fish.

Netting the fish

Filling the fish tub with water