Melancholy

My mood today definitely matches the weather, it’s gloomy and rainy and sad. My friend Peabody left today to return to the Salt City and I am very sad. I had such a great time with him here. When you’re in SLC it’s so hard to spend quality time with friends because there are so many people to see and no matter where you go with Peabody you will inevitably be interrupted by somebody who either knows him, thinks they know him or just wants to comment on his show. It’s impossible to have a meal without interruption. But here in Chicago, anonymity is wonderful! I took Peabody to a couple of different places, we had dinner, we had drinks and we had BLUES!

Yes, I will definitely miss having Peabody here!

Bring on the next friend.

Visitation Rights

So my friend Peabody is here to visit and I am so happy about it. We had dinner at a restaurant that everybody has raved about and it did not disappoint; kitschy, quaint and extraordinarily good food! Talking to Peabody was like never having left the salt city. Gossip was the order of the day and this did not disappoint either.

I had already decided that every one of my friends must visit, but now I am making it mandatory. After being grilled on places to go and things to do I discovered that I actually do know this town. I was beginning to doubt myself, alas, as I learn more of the city I can now detail trips to coincide with likes and dislikes. It doesn’t matter what you like; food, shopping, nightlife, jazz or blues…I know where to take you.

Take heed, my friends, I am now your official guide to the Windy City!

Drunk and Disorderly

Note to the “boys” out there.

Please do us ladies a huge favor, don’t get slobbering drunk, ask for our phone number and then proceed to hit on our friend (who is sitting right next to us) when we tell you no.

Yep, that’s right I’m talking to you Mr. Drunk Firefighter.

Million Dollar Question

Is there an Olympic event for running in 4-inch high heels? If so, I'm pretty sure I would win gold after this morning's dash to the bus. I managed to catch the bus and not break an ankle...I think it's going to be a lovely day!

Overheard

Overheard at a bar last night:

Girl: “What would you do if you got stuck on a toilet seat?”
Guy: “For how long?”
Girl: “Why does it matter?”
Guy: “Because I want to know how many times I can masturbate before my roommate gets home.”

Ah, to be twenty-something again and have roommates...NOT!

Economic Stimulus

I found the best use for my $600 economic stimulus check, $300 to the airline industry and $300 to the shoe industry. I figured that in my new world this was an even split between two must haves; half to go to SLC and see the family and friends and half to my feet looking absolutely stunning in four different pairs of uber-sexy heels. I won’t go into detail about the airline ticket, because let’s just face it, airline tickets are NOT sexy. I will however go to great lengths to describe the heels!

1) 4-inch, matte black Nine West heels. Delicately pointed toe with an instep cutout. The four inches really made the heel in this situation. Worn with jeans or a business suit and even this fabulous black dress which I have yet to wear.





2) 3-inch beige and black peep-toe heels. Rounded toe with black around the ankle. Nothing says sexy like peep-toe heels. Very practical considering the sheer amount of neutrals in my closet, currently being worn with a beige suit and black sweater.



3) 3-inch white and beige peep-toe heels. Mostly beige with delicate white detailing around the base and toes, also with a strap around the back of the heel. These are also very practical because I can walk the one mile to work and one mile home from work and not be begging for mercy when I finally make it home. They also go with a fair amount of the summer suits and work attire yet to be brought forth out of the closet.


4) Red, 4-inch spike heels. Need I say more?


Now my only problem is I need another stimulus check to buy new clothes to go with the new shoes.

Baggage Detectors

In the past 24 hours I have had the same conversation with two different men in two different states; the conversation being how women are crazy. Now being a woman myself, and having many women friends I can attest that in my experience ALL women are at least a little bit crazy. Some have high percentages like eighty-five and ninety percent, but others are low around ten or fifteen percent crazy. I would classify myself on the low end around seventeen percent crazy, and most people I know would consider me pretty level-headed and even tempered, thereby solidifying my assertion that I am on the low end of the scale.

We’ll start with last night’s conversation with Pete. Pete manages a bar on the Northside and is an attractive guy, young thirties, great body and a very easy going personality. We were having drinks on the patio of the bar he manages, and in between checking on other patrons; Pete would stop by my table for chats. I confess to have had a little bit of a crush when I first met Pete, but the crush has turned into a genuine friendship, which given the nature of the conversation at hand, is a very good thing.

So, Pete tells me he has been getting texts and voice messages from a couple of ex girlfriends, nothing new there. Then he tells me about these girls and by his description I would call these girls absolutely one-hundred percent, certifiably crazy! There was stalking behavior, childish antics, public rants, a hit and run, a slap fight with another woman and a host of emotional baggage she's carrying around. And then Pete does the unthinkable, he said he’s attracted to this behavior. He wouldn’t even consider a drama free relationship. Relationships for him, need high drama and jealousy to have meaning! Are you kidding me!?!

Then this morning I talk to my friend Foxy in SLC, early forties, great body and also good-looking. Considering all the drama this boy has gone through, mostly self created, I know he attracts crazy women, the latest one being his wife who I believe is no longer his wife (will def. have to get the scoop on this). Believe me there was lots of drama there. So, he tells me he has no developed a baggage detector and I say good for him! Having this new found ability will absolutely help you in the future with weeding out the drama chicks.

In my opinion, there are two paths here, the first one being, if you’re going to date crazy at least own up to it. Otherwise your friends think you’re idiot and might need to seek psychiatric help; honesty is the best policy in this situation. The other path is finding and installing a baggage detector, I’m sure after market specials are out there somewhere. However, I’m hoping one day, baggage detectors come standard with a penis.

Universal Truth

No matter how hard you try, there is no way you can not smile if you're wearing shoes with fuzzy pom poms on the toes.

Flub A Dub Chub

There is a man on the Northside named Sam, Sam owns Flub A Dub Chub, Flub A Dub Chub is a hot dog shop and this hot dog shop is one-half block from my apartment. For the last four and a half months I have passed by Flub A Dub Chub almost daily, never stopping but always smiling and nodding to the proprietor when he was outside, eventually saying hello, which led to the inevitable stop in at Flub A Dub Chub last night.

I am a hot dog eater, everybody eats hot dogs and one of my pet peeves is people who say they only eat hot dogs if they’re at a baseball game, as if they’re claiming to be repulsed by the idea of a hot dog and proclaiming false snobbery at stooping to eat the cheap meat in a bun. To this…I CALL BULLSHIT! Granted a ballpark is one of the best places to eat a hot dog, but you can’t beat a street vendor in New York City, a backyard BBQ or a weekend camping in the mountains. But I digress, back to Sam.

So last night as I was walking past Flub A Dub Chub on my way home, it started to rain and the tummy started to growl and I decided, “Why not?” So I stopped in at Flub A Dub Chub, where I met Sam. Sam proceeded to introduce me to his two sons, Greg and Bryan, told me about the history of Flub A Dub Chub (relatively new business), described the artwork in the place (a friend who illustrates children’s books), discussed golf (apparently pretty good) and eventually took my order (it’s about time). I ordered the chili/cheese works, which incidentally, came with fries, to which started a discussion with Sam on the finer points of fry sauce. (Utah peeps totally get this)

This little interlude made me smile all the way home because Sam is the kind of person you meet all over Chicago. They will talk your ear off if you let them and if you’re like me you’ll never forget them. I can honestly say I like Sam, but if he’s the one responsible for me putting on the 10 pounds I’ve lost since moving here...I’m going to hurt Sam.

Getting Paid

Everybody has an opinion on just about everything. Whether you’re willing to admit it or not, you have an opinion. The best thing about having an opinion is you can actually get paid for it! Yep, that’s right. For instance last night I got paid $85 for my opinion on advertising for Parliament cigarettes. Now, I don’t smoke Parliament cigarettes, but a friend does and she got me into this survey. Let me lay this out for you, there are six women sitting around a table with a moderator at the head of the table, each of us has a handwritten name card in front of us and at the end of the room is a mirrored wall. Now this being my first survey; and being smart enough to correctly deduce there are people behind the glass, we begin our discussion. The ladies are asked what comes to mind when you think Parliament. Most of the ladies have done surveys before so they’re coming up with “crisp” “recessed filter” “smooth taste” “clean” and some others I can’t quite recall, but all the buzzwords the marketing people behind the glass want to hear. The thought being that if you’re going to get paid for your opinion, why not make it a good opinion? What did I come up with you ask….old men in white powdered wigs. Yep, that was my answer, that was my five-full-minutes-of-laughter answer and as the laughter died down in our room, I could still hear laughter coming from behind the mirrored wall.

If nothing else, apparently my humor was worth the $85 they spent on me.

Making friends is easy...

Making friends is easy, making friends that cook you dinner is a whole different story. Let me start by saying I had a great time this weekend, I helped a new friend celebrate his birthday, and joined the girls is kicking his ass at Rumikube. This, considering he’s a HUGE fan, is an added bonus to the glee. While I was indeed having a good time, in the back of my mind I couldn’t help but think that back home in SLC, my friends were having Movie Night. Movie Night is something I started awhile back, and we would gather and watch mostly cult classics or campy B-movies. This always involved a large amount of alcohol, a late night bitch session over whomever somebody was dating at the time and always, ALWAYS involved dinner cooked by one of my best friends.

Many years ago in SLC, I was fortunate enough to meet one person who is wonderful, talented, creative, expressive and very well known. Through her came a plethora of individuals who became friends (some enemies but we don’t discuss them). I met two guys who have become the best friends I have ever had and those two boys can cook! I mean, they can really create amazing, delicious meals which inevitably brings together many people. Countless evenings I’ve sat perched on the kitchen counter with a glass of wine and provided a running commentary while they were busy creating a masterpiece. Sometimes it was a solo preparation and other times it was a dual effort. But I always had my spot on the kitchen counter, it was my spot. And since I am now here, I can’t help but wonder if some woman has taken over, if she is now the matriarch of the “urban tribe”, is this person now taking over my beloved, well-worn groove on the concrete counter-top? Do I no longer have an exalted position within the family?

And as I sat on this deck playing Rummikube, eating grilled hot dogs; I really missed my friends and thought to myself, “Yep, it’s easy to make friends, but harder to make friends who will cook for you.” Friends, who make dinner for you, know what you like and don’t like. You share history with the friends who make you dinner and, most stories start with “Remember when…” This is the hard part about being here and them being there, this recreating good friendships, strong friendships and lasting friendships.

I know my urban tribe will always be there, and I have no doubt that I will make friends with people who make you dinner, it just takes time. And I promise to be nice to whoever has taken my place whenever I visit, but I will want my seat back!

Observations......April

Being five minutes late for your bus will make you an additional ten minutes late for work.

If you see a cute guy at lunch, at least say hi because in a city this size you may never see him again.

Downtown Chicago on a rainy day is not a good place to be in open-toed shoes.

Skyscrapers can pass for mountains at night... if you squint really hard.

It's actually quite liberating not having a car.

If you're middle-age, short and balding and you're walking down the street with a young Korean girl in a tight dress in the middle of the afternoon - Yes, everybody is staring at you and no, they don't think you must be a cool guy. They think she must be a whore.

Apparently there are certain Starbucks where one should and should not be seen....who knew?

No matter which direction I'm headed I always seem to be going against pedestrian traffic.

Horns should be outlawed!