i blame the red states

ugh.. fuck you, america, for voting Taylor Ware as the second semi-finalist. how cornball can you get.

itching

what does a lifelong sloth do when it wants to stop being slothlike? what is there to do? impromptu kickboxing? lacrosse? bustin' a move? jesus wept.. unspent energy, wasted in jaw clenching and foot tapping. rollerblades, a skateboard, a bike.. fuck, i don't know how to do any of those things. can a body learn at age 26?

sigh.. i guess a walk's better than nothing..

america's got another patsy

crap. crap crap. crap crappity crap. i think i'm hooked on 'america's got talent.' i always said i avoided these kind of shows like the plague, for obvious reasons, but goddamn, i couldn't stop watching. the whole reason i tuned in was because one of our local gals got on the show (and passed onto the next round, btw). they showed her in a rerun, then damn their oily souls, they showed a new one after that! what kind of demons DO such an abominable thing??

i could get used to this whole 'teevee' thing... sure beats real life.

hawt

WORK, DAMN YOU, WORK!!

finders keepers

my cat is of the curious variety. i certainly haven't found all the hiding places she frequents. i'm not even sure where she sleeps when i'm at work. (she certainly never sleeps when *i'm* trying to sleep.) but apparently she's been dipping into an alternate universe:



i've never seen either of these necklaces before. they look like something i could (or would) only acquire after showing my tits to passing floats. yet, i came home one day, and the green one was on my floor and the purple one was in my kitchen sink. after freaking out a little - omg, what if people are breaking into my apartment and leaving me cheap plastic jewelry??? - i reached the conclusion that these were somehow left over from the previous occupants.

i thought that was the end of it...until i was making mac & cheese tonight and discovered this on my kitchen floor:



yup.. it's an empty, cat hair-encrusted packet of lube. strawberry kiwi lube, no less. i can't make this shit up. and i'm learning more about my neighbors than i ever really wanted to know.

the englishman who went up a hill and came down a mountain and blew another fucking tiebreaker

there are few constants in life. it puts my mind at ease to know that amid all the chaos of the world, e always equals mc², the Cubs will always suck, and Tim Henman will never win Wimbledon. i was fairly surprised to see him playing this year. don't get me wrong, i always had a soft spot for the dark-haired chap with the Wallace-like teeth, but the homeboy's just never had the cojones to dig in and win the whole thing. he's a relic - a serve-and-volley player in a world of baseliners - and the increasingly outmoded grass is supposedly 'his' surface.. yet he can't bring it all together and make it happen. i've watched him drag out match after match with amateurs to five sets, only to lose before the round of 16 to anyone who can put up a challenge. poor sod.

he's not even seeded this year.. and i saw his next match is against reigning champ Roger Federer. sorry, Tim, hope to see you crash and burn again next year. cheers!

the sound of sushi

i get breakfast for my coworkers in the morning. (insert sound of whip cracking *here*) luckily, there's an american-style eatery right downstairs in our building that i go to nearly every day, not only for breakfast, but lunch too. today i noticed a bigass sign denoting four kinds of sushi. buoyed, i asked the girl behind the counter about said sign. she told me not only were they starting with the sushi serving today, but to celebrate, they'd give some away free. free rhymes with squee, which is an approximation of the noise i made.

when lunchtime rolled around, i went down to pick up my tasty fishy morsels. complications ensued. turns out they were sent the wrong stuff, ergo, no free lunch. crushed, i opened my wallet nonetheless to spare myself the disappointment of sushilessness. i moped back upstairs and commenced with my pencilpushing.

then, out of the corner of my eye, i spied someone coming into the office. someone put a small plate down next to me with two tiny rolls and a packet of soy sauce. he joggled my elbow and said my name. i whizzed around and saw it was jorge, one of the cashiers/servers in the restaurant. he'd come up even though he completely didn't have to and spanked me some free sushi. how cool is that? it was pretty good, too.. i think he gave me some spicy salmon and tuna. mm.

i know there's no way on earth you read my blog, jorge, but thank you anyway!

ps. a&w diet root beer does not go with sushi. not one bit.

that wheelchair guy

you gotta love stephen hawking. the man appears on the simpsons, futurama and then takes a swipe at the frogs.

Hawking -- who must communicate with an electronic speech synthesizer -- said he once considered using a machine that gave him a French accent but he couldn't use it because his wife would divorce him.

the rest of the article's pretty interesting too.. but man, does that kick ass.

graaaaAAAAAAAARRRRR

i finally gave up the ghost and admitted i lost my cell phone, that it is gone. i haven't the slightest clue where i lost it. i know i lost it on the 5/26, that i had it that morning before i went to work, but when i came home, it was nowhere to be found. i called every establishment i could think of that i visited that day (i went shopping after work, which only makes things worse). the kicker is, i'm not even sure i put it in my purse, since i hardly ever use it. i've turned my place upside down searching for the stupid thing. and it's also off, and t-mobile, in their infinite wisdom, won't turn it on, which i know you can do.

i called t-mobile just now to report the phone and file a claim. their automated system is one of those cutesy things where the soothing fake voice pretends it can interact with you. 'all right, now tell me your problem.' no choices, no menu, you have to tell a machine anything that could possibly be wrong and hope it picks up on a key word you say. who does this benefit, exactly? people who are too stupid to know they're talking to a robot? do some people try to hold a conversation with the answering machine? i would not doubt that for a second, lamentably. i should have said 'purple monkey dishwasher' just to see what would happen.

i finally got to the claim department, where they told me i need to fill out a police report.. on a phone that, for all i know, could still be in my apartment somewhere. all this makes the eventual irony when i find my old phone (after getting a new one) that much more bitter. there's no activity on my records since 5/24; if someone has my phone and hasn't called or messaged anyone by now, they have even less friends than i do, and they can keep the damn phone for the games for all i care. this sucks buckskin.

waiting

i saw these flowers yesterday, going upstairs to my apartment.

sitting.

sitting for too long already.

sitting... for how long?

chicagoista

damn, it's hard to yell at my cat after yelling in a crowded bar for two hours...

just got back from chicagoist's 2nd anniversary party at the pontiac café. pretty fun. they had delicious frosty cupcakes with a 'snakes on the hancock' theme going. i got to eat one gussied up like a snake that looked kind of like a muppet. plus i got some swag. woo swag!

it was cool, but hard to tell who was who. there were the blog contributors, some of whom wore t-shirts emblazoned with 'chicagoist'. then there were commentors, such as myself. then there were friends of both commentors and contributors. then there were people who just wanted the $3 beers and free drink tickets, i'm assuming.. i gave up after a short while. the music was surprisingly agreeable. kudos to tankboy for moving me to shake my booty. parklife represent!

it's not just the fans!

wow. the cubs/sox game today would have been the usual northside beatdown if not for the fight that broke out in the second inning. we (kim, scott and i) were sitting on the third-base side, ground level. the sox's brian anderson hit a fly ball.. a.j. pierzynski, on third, ran for home. everyone stood up to see if the throw would make it to home in time. i saw pierzynski plow into the cubs' catcher, michael barrett, and after that it was complete pandemonium. i had no idea what had happened besides the collision. benches emptied, i couldn't tell if anyone was hurt, it was so crowded on the field. the crowd was going batshit. as we waited to see what would happen, some of the sox fans behind me said barrett threw a punch, then podsednik or konerko jumped him or something. according to them, barrett was a pussy. typical. barrett and pierzynski both got ejected, along with two other guys i didn't even know were fighting. even better, the sox scored a run on the play. joy!

other than that, it was a solid ass-whooping. rich hill's an utter dingleberry. i think he issued three straight walks in that second inning to lead up to a grand slam. no wonder the cubs are the laughingstocks of chicago... we left during the seventh inning stretch. i couldn't stomach being on a crowded train with a bunch of braying sox fans, and drunk ones at that.

silver lining: i didn't get jeered at or peed on, even though i was wearing my cubs hat.. and it was a really nice day out. i must go lie down now.

snakes in a stadium

through some conflagration of time and space, i wound up with three tickets to the cubs/sox game tomorrow afternoon. my purple cubs cap will be out in force. (do they even make sox caps in purple? i hope not.) i'm trying like mad to work up any sort of enthusiasm for it, but without derrek lee and a no-name, 0-3 pitcher working the mound.. my expectations are low. at least i'll get to see the burning hunk of man that is joe crede. maybe i'll make a giant sign that just has his face and a huge arrow to my lap...

i can't win

the warmer it gets outside, the colder it gets in the office. i wore a light, gauzy white shirt to work today, along with capris and open-toed slides. i was forced to change into my sweatshirt and am currently draping a jacket over my legs.. and i still wish i were in a parka and gloves.

damnit.

a gross indiscretion

my friend Justin has brought to my attention the following incredible fact:

when one googles the quoted phrase "edible assless chaps" ... nothing comes up.

there's so much wrong with that. this is what the Internet was MADE FOR, people!

i want to see some edible assless chaps on the market out there, STAT!

apartment sweet apartment

omg, look what i found! i have a blog!

i'm now in my new place with an average amount of fuss. i only felt like crying maybe twice. packing was no problem.. i even have a few brand-new boxes left over (want some?). i couldn't believe i wasn't going to be living in my apartment anymore. i'd lived there for two years, longer than anywhere else in the city. where would i shop? what would i see? i'll miss 'my' houses, i know that..

still, time plods on and i had to move out of that admitted shithole. naturally, my troubles began on moving day. i went to the new place to go over a checklist so when i move out, i can point to something and say 'hey, this was f'ed up before i got here.' great concept (this wasn't done for my old place), 'cept i found a lot more wrong than i bargained for: my bedroom and kitchen windows didn't open; the toilet ran forever; it wobbled back and forth when you sat on it (a fact i discovered *after* the checklist); the countertop laminate nearest the stove was burnt and some of it coming off the backstop; and some other minor things. i thought this place was going to be the money pit from hell.

then, in my infinite wisdom, i left my newly acquired cell phone back at my old place. that was bad news, since the movers were due to be at my place half an hour after the checklist thing.. at least that's when their 2-hour window started. as it turns out, that didn't matter much since they didn't have my cell phone # on file, even though i specifically called and gave it to them. i missed the call, my building manager left me a very testy message (none from the movers, funny that), and by the time i got back, they'd already left. fun!

somehow i wrangled a three-man crew out of them (i'd put in for two men before). their leader happened to be one of the more overtly racist men i've met in the city. very brusque process. if i'd been moving into another garden apartment it probably would have taken an hour.. that is, if we hadn't gotten stuck in the alley. since my back alley was kind of an allen wrench shape, curving sharply to go back out to my street, we couldn't get through that way. had to back out the entire length. cops were called, directions were bungled, hispanics were insulted. oh, and did i mention it was raining during all of this?

a short while and much coin droppage later, i found myself in my new place, but my day wasn't over yet. i still had to go back to my old place and clean. i'd left many cleaning implements in the apartment, so i couldn't just take a cab back.. i needed a ride. i knew my sis and her paramour were getting a jump start on moving and taking some stuff over to their mutual new place that night, so i called my friend Trevlin. Trevlin has a penchant for dressing very well, but i figured if i'm moving, he'll dress it down a little, no? no. up he showed, resplendent in a black three-piece suit and black fedora, to help me move my nasty-ass brooms and cleansers (luckily i pawned off my useless vacuum cleaner on my building manager). bless 'im for it.

so now i get to unpack and paint this weekend. the sooner i get it over with, the better. i just hope my cat doesn't get her hair permasealed in my walls before it's all over.

burnout

please kill me. i can't wait till this move is over. just one more week, just one more week... and i haven't even had it that bad, considering. i just can't stand looking around my dank, festering apartment any longer. plus all this planning and arranging is really cutting into my Futurama time.

on top of that, my computer is on the fritz. i barely know my own name anymore. will life ever go back to normal?

*thinking hard about what my normal life consists of*

ok, maybe not *normal*...

fun with econ (or: fun? with econ?!)

i was going thru my papers to see what i could dump when i came across some of my high school notebooks, which i kept for various reasons, mostly humor-related. senior year AP Economics was one of my most hated classes. lucky for me, i sat right next to and passed frequent notes with one of my good friends back in the day. Lisa and i would doodle stick figures of Gavin Rossdale and Russell Crowe, giving them the wittiest of captions. right in the front row, no less. screw you, Mr. Bruce!

i realize what was funny at 17 might not translate to what's funny at 26, but i did come across an interesting phrase:

I'd hate to meet aggregate expenditure in a dark alley.

i couldn't tell you what it means now, and i doubt i knew what it meant then. all i know is, it made me snicker, and that's what matters.

omg, another show

i want to be moved into my new place now. right now, damnit. typical movers help you move, but only after you've packed up all your stuff, right? where are the guys i can hire to pack up all my stuff? i'd gladly sacrifice a pair or two of lacy unmentionables in order to get out of that crap.

i s'pose i should mention i went to a concert on friday... a little band known as the dresden dolls. somehow, i managed to snag a companion that was not related to me, not dating anyone related to me, nor in a local band with which i am friends. amazing.

show info stated that the doors would be open at 11 pm. when we arrived at 11:30, however, doors had yet to be opened and the large, gothed-out, stripey crowd had been relegated to standing out in the freezing, whipping cold. my companion and i considered this quite gauche, so we trundled off to uncommon ground to wait out the ridiculousness. after two pieces of molten chocolate cake (glguahgla), we descended upon the metro once more.

we missed the first act, but considering how packed the environs were, i figured that was for the best. we managed to wedge ourselves into a tiny space amongst the throng of humanity, very close to the right-hand side speakers. ah, nothing like 'the barber of seville' blaring into one's ears from a distance of mere feet. my companion enjoyed it immensely. i, of course, only know the song courtesy of chuck jones. oh well.

as for the dolls themselves.. awesome. i almost forgot the weakness in my ankles and the pain in my feet from standing in my silly little heels for hours on end. (almost.) i hadn't heard anything from their latest yet, so it was nice to hear some new songs along with the old. i think the highlights of the night were 'coin-operated boy', a French folk cover called 'amsterdam' that i'd never heard of, and 'war pigs', which i'd definitely heard of. man, that shit sounds great on a piano, much more so than you'd think. amanda was worshipful and brian was.. smokin'. rawr. overall, an early saturday morning well-spent. now if only they hadn't woken me at 10 am to show my fucking apartment...

chinpokomon

my coworker, for whatever reason, went to a Wrigley's shareholder meeting the other day. in return for investing, the company gave out little 'kits' of gum and candy in these spiffy boxes. he passed 'em around to the entire office. there was the usual stuff, like Altoids, Eclipse, Orbit, what have you. then, included with the usual suspects, were some funky little japanese items.. all gum, i think.

i picked up a piece today out of the box and pondered the chewing that was to come. it had cherries printed on it, so i figured, what's the harm? upon opening the little wrapper, i saw a hollowed-out piece of pink gum with this translucent gel in the middle. not the most appetizing sight. dauntless, i poked it into my mouth anyway. and i know what you're thinking; foreign candy has been the brunt of comedy for many a year due to its odd packaging and unknown sources. well, i'm here to tell you:

it tasted like soap.

i mean, it was tolerable, but the 'cherry' branding on the wrapper must have been a mere whimsical notion, for it in no way resembled cherry of any kind. the gel had a naturally sickening consistency, reminding me of little fat globules in sausage. what springs to mind is Big Pink gum from Futurama. sadly, my teeth were not pinkened from the experience.

as a bonus, though, i picked out another, more savory japanese treat from the gum box:



now when someone asks me for some gum, i can just give them my... yeah.