Thursday, July 31, 2008

Horoscope for today...

Pisces (2/19-3/20)
Avoid inflicting your opinions on others, today -- it will only slow your progress.

Are you kidding me? Well then what else am I supposed to do today?

Seriously, FUCK!

If I can't inflict my opinions on others today I might as well go home and go back to bed. But first I MUST find a cute pink wig!

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Missing You

It rained last night, it rained HARD last night. Thunder, lightning, literal downpour and it put me in a most decidedly melancholy mood. I tried calling a few friends from back home, but had no luck reaching them. Since I've been away I see myself slipping further and further from their daily lives, which is sad for me, but in all fairness, except the ones I IM throughout the day most of them have slipped from my daily conciousness. Learning a new role in life is always hard, especially at 34 - old dog new tricks and all that.

I miss my friends today.

Monday, July 28, 2008

Drunk Dialing Protocol

This weekend I attended the "Taste of Lincoln" neighborhood festival. If you've never lived in Chicago you'll know all about this, the summers are full of neighborhood festivals, each area has their own take on the block party and bascially it's the same party every weekend in a different location. The whole event is basically this: close the street for approximately 5 to 7 blocks, put up a few stages for live music, line the street with vendors (food, promotional and knock off Fendis), open the bars to any and all comers and have copious amounts of beer and vodka lemonades for the festival goers. As it stands, Taste of Lincoln is the best so far, besides the fact that it's very close to home for me, it's the perfect time of year, everybody is in the party spirit and it's the longest so there is less crowding.

We gathered a large group of friends, met at a bar and proceeded to "stroll" the festival. Our group was close to 20 people, so after awhile you split up, meet up, split up and eventually meet back up at a bar somewhere. (much like a bad relationship) Toward the end of the festival I was outside Clarke's waiting for some of the girls and a couple of guys stopped to chat, and when I say chat, I mean fall all over their drunken words and repeat themselves numerous times trying to get your phone number. This happens often toward the end of the night because guys have had just enough to drink that they'll feel embolden enough to approach me. Anyway, so a couple of guys stop, we chat for quite awhile, the tall one is funny and from Georgia (I'm a sucker for southern boys) so I decide to give him my number (which I would soon regret) and then I go back into the bar with the girls.

While we were waiting for the rest of our group I was chatting with my friend Hayley at the bar. She had assembled a group of young boys around her, and they were absolutly adorable. They were from Fargo, in town visiting one of their friends and all in their early 20s. You run into this alot in Chicago. They were trying their twenty-year-old best to hit on us which was comical and amounted to this - "Hey, I'm leaving to go home to (insert city name) in 12 hours, wanna go back to (insert friend's name) house?" Thanks, but no thanks boys! We bid adieu to the boys and headed to Bottle Bar up the street, outside the festival zone. We have a bit more to drink, dance our asses off and have a great time. About 2AM, I decide I'm ready to go home, I said good night to the group and walked home. This is where I regret giving my number to the Georgia guy.

I made it home by 2:30, I'm exhausted, remove my contacts, wash my make-up off and crash into bed. I'm just about asleep, kitty cat is curled up next to me when my phone rings. Note: There is a very short list of people that can call me at that hour and get away with it. Most of these people live in Utah, with the exception of one person in Cali and one in Tenn, and Chicago has a few potentials for that short list. I do however make a few exceptions to this rule.

So I look at my phone and realize it's Georgia. I'm irritated to say the least and there's no way I'm answering this phone, because there is only one reason you make a phone call at 2:30 to somebody you just met...and we all know what that reason is. I push the ignore button, figuring I'm going to hear the signal for a voicemail in a few seconds, nope the phone rings again, I hit ignore, the phone rings again, I hit ignore, the phone rings again, I hit ignore...folks this happens 9 times! Now you might ask, well why didn't you just put the phone on silence? Simple answer - it was 2:30AM and there was alcohol involved. Needless to say I was not coherent. Truly I didn't remember how many times this had happened until 11AM yesterday morning when I woke up and saw 9 missed calls on my phone and only one number came up.

Some part of me absolutly expected a call from Georgia explaining the phone call, but I know better. I know why he called and I can most likely not expect to get a phone call from him anytime in the future. Which is all for the better anyway.

But it brings me to this - there needs to be a set of rules for drunk dialing.
Such as:
1. You must have already had relations with a person before calling them at 3AM for a booty call. You do not drunk dial the guy/chick you just met.
2. No drunk dialing more than one person in a night. Pick your pony if you will.
3. There should be a cutoff time for calling. You cannot be awakened at 3AM and be expected to perform, this is just mean.
4. Only call once, do not call and hang up when they don't answer and call back 8 MORE TIMES!
5. If you're going to call at ungodly hours, please, PLEASE leave a rambling, drunken, slurred message so I can play it repeatedly for my friends at brunch the next morning and we can mock you over and over again!

Thank you all, I've said my peace!

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Noisy Neighbor Update

For those of you following along with the Noisy Neighbor, I give you Sunday.

After I was stood up on Sunday, I decided I might as well get some wash done. I got in the elevator to switch the clothes from the washer to the dryer and the elevator stopped one floor below mine. A guy gets on and by the not-so-gentle swaying of his entire body, I can tell he's pretty much plastered. It's still early in the evening so this is a bit surprising. He turns to me and says, "Hey, I know you. I've seen you on the bus." He continues on in his one act monologue and I just stare at him, quite amused, because even though I just typed - "Hey, I know you. I've seen you on the bus.", what I really heard was "Heeeeeeyyyyyy, I knooowwwwyooouuu. I've ssseeennn yooouuuonnndabusss." <--this is why I'm staring at him highly amused. I figure he really needs no encouragement from me. He asks me which floor I live on, to which I reply a completely different floor than the one I do live on, then he tells me his apartment number. Imagine my surprise when it turns out to be the apartment right below mine! Yes, ladies and gentleman, we have finally met the man who likes his girls loud! Now I am very much amused by this whole situation, unable to hide the smile on my face. He tells me he's going to go out and have a smoke as if I'm supposed to wait for him and then it starts to dawn on me, I think my Noisy Neighbor has misread the smile on my face. We part and I go in the laundry room to switch the loads, figuring if I hurry I can beat him back into the elevator. No such luck...and this is where the story takes a decidedly creepy twist.

Just as the elevator door is opening, in comes the Noisy Neighbor, staggering wildly through the door asking me to hold the elevator. Though I can sometimes be thoughtless, I'm not mean, so I hold the door. On the ride up, Noisy Neighbor is swaying just a bit more with the nicotine now coursing through his already alcohol infused veins, and he's starting to invade my space. I back myself up against the wall while drunkie here is running through his mental dictionary trying to match enough words together to form a pick-up line. He's getting closer and I'm getting a little concerned that this guy is going to push it just a bit too far. As the elevator is opening on his floor, he turns to me and says in his best 70's swinger voice "Would you like to come in for a drink." and then the fucker winked, it was too much. I busted up laughing, nearly dropping the wet, non-dryables from the washer and then I realized there was a guy standing in the open door. Noisy Neighbor gave me one last wistful...ok, drunken look before stumbling out of the door and the next guy got on. He asked what that was all about and commented that it looked like he had gotten on at the right time. I gave him a quick rundown and thanked him for his perfect timing.

I laughed all the way back to my apartment and after meeting Noisy Neighbor...I am now absolutely positive she was faking it!

Monday, July 21, 2008


So I had something happen this weekend that hasn't happened in a long time.

When I was in college, over a decade ago, I agreed to a semi-blind date. The guy was a brother of a friend from high school. My friend was two years older than me and his brother was four years older than him. One day my friend came by my work with his brother and we chatted for a bit. A few days later my friend called and said his brother thought I was cute and wanted to know if I'd agree to a date. I said yes and we set a time and place. I showed up and about an hour later I realized I'd been stood up! It was a first for me and I was mortified. I never heard from the guy and his brother had no idea what had happened. About a month later I found out the guy had checked himself into a mental hospital. Seemingly I dodged a bullet on that one. There is a lot more to this story happening a few years later, but that part of the story doesn't play into this weekend's story so we'll skip it.

So jump forward many, many years. I'm now living in Chicago, I'm in my mid-thirties and I just got stood up for the second time in my life and once again I am mortified!

Dating sucks!

Friday, July 18, 2008

Weekend Agenda

Fri - Gym, much needed sleep!
Sat - Gym, sewing (burning man costumes), drinks with girls & Ryan's B-day at Easy Bar!
Sun - Gym, brunch, drinks with the Irish Boy! <--this is what I'm really looking forward to.

Why the gym so much you ask - Seeing as how I'm Burning Man bound in just a little over a month, I need to tone up the body, or at least the bits that will be bared to the sand, sun and other burners.

Thursday, July 17, 2008


I have a sick obsession with pin-up girl clothing. Not the tiny two-piece bikinis and shorty faux waitress uniforms, but the real glamour side of it. The tight fitted knee length dresses or pencil skirts with awesome architectural detailing and tailored tops that always seem to accentuate the positive and never the negative. Whenever I find the perfect twill material I always make something new in this style. I also find myself endlessly surf-shopping rockabilly/pin-up girl clothing sites, so imagine my surprise when I pass a shop on Monday night with a stunning red 20s style retro dress in the display. I was in a hurry, so I figured I would stop in last night. Now imagine my surprise at finding the following two things: 1) It was cheaply made, I mean seriously shitty and 2) It was $144.00!

Now $144 would have been okay if it had included any of the following: been well-made, made my body look 2 sizes smaller or had guaranteed that my date tonight would have fallen on his knees the minute he saw me and thanked the Goddesses for my existence. Since I knew the first two to be incorrect and I highly doubted the last one, it was just too much for my budget.

All of this now feeds to my current obsession - now what the fuck do I wear for my date tonight?

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

My Brain Hurts

I have been in an online seminar nearly all day! Seriously, I cannot take this today because I am currently searching for anyway to erase all the gunk from my brain. Short of opening up my skull, grabbing a wire brush and vigorously scubbing the shit out of my grey matter I'm FUCKED! And I am supposed to be maintaining the information brought to me by the wonderful people at Morningstar!

Sunday, July 13, 2008

Irish Boys and Irish Whiskey

The following post bought to you by numerous Jameson & Cokes...seriously, NUMEROUS!

I had the most fortunate experience of meeting two very funny Irishmen last night at a bar called the Kerryman.  One we'll call the leprechaun on ecstasy the other is a total hottie with puppy dog brown eyes named Johnny.  Anyway, after downing numerous Jameson & Cokes last night, they invited me to an Irish bar for Sunday Funday.  So this morning I showed up at the bar and we watched the Cubs game and traveled throughout Wrigleyville.  Through all this drinking and me missing half of what they were saying (I'm not very good at understanding accents), I fell in lust with the total hottie.  We shared a cab to my apartment, where I promptly fell right back into my teenage years by kissing Puppy Dog Eyes in the back seat of a cab.

I fucking love this city!

Friday, July 11, 2008

Boys and Metaphors

I am a huge fan of boys. Two of my closest friends are boys and I love them to pieces. But I have come to realize that boys can be classified so many ways that it's hard to be universal, therefore I choose metaphors.

For instance there is the "convenience store" boy - he's the one who is very much like a gas station, it's a great place to fill your car with gas, but you wouldn't want to get your hair and nails done there. He fills a certain need in your life, mostly it's checking under the hood and knowing that your well-tuned, lovely piece of finely-crafted machinery needs high octane fuel and a knowledgeable hand.

There is the "big-box" boy - he can handle all your physical needs when it comes to the lifting, building, fixing and moving sort or needs. You don't worry about getting dressed-up to take a spin around Target, but then again you always love visiting the Target. He's the one who sees you on Saturday morning, when you need help getting rid of the old couch before the new one gets delivered.

There is the "bar" boy - he is much like a bartender, he's the one you pour your drunken heart out to about some other guy who's doing you wrong and though you're positive there is never anything physical going to happen with him, you're quite sure he's still hoping the complete opposite.

These metaphors could go on and on, the only reason I mention all this, is because I don't have any of those boys here! I am hereby setting a goal to find at least one of those boys here in Chicago before the summer is out.

Personally I'm rooting for "Convenience Boy"...mama's engine is running a little hot these days!

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Sales and Sails

I love a good sale, and I mean a really good one, like 70% off that awesome dress I saw last week, you know the one that fits my hips, my waist AND my boobs, the one I could totally wear right now without needing to have it altered to fit all three important areas, the one that I just couldn’t justify spending $200 on because I don’t have the perfect shoes to match. Well, I didn’t get that good of a sale, but American Airlines just put their fall airfares on sale and I purchased two tickets home to SLC! This all makes me very happy because now I am going to Burning Man again this year, and besides my four favorite traveling companions: JV, TA, AmyT (virgin) and Trock Daddy, there will also be GCup, The Collin Sisters (3 of them at least), Tracy & Dean and a newbie – Legs (also a virgin)! So I’ve purchased my glow wire, and I’ve started sketching costumes…this puts a ton of wind in my sails!

Speaking of sails, since I’ve been hanging with the sailor boy, I’ve decided I really like sailing. I’ve always loved the water, but I’ve never been good on small watercraft. But after spending some time on the boat and actually sleeping on the boat after the fireworks on the 4th and sailing on the 5th I can now call myself officially a fan of sailing. I have learned many valuable lessons out on the open water, besides knots, terms and jargon…don’t date fellow sailors! Sailing is a small community and everybody knows everybody and their history. Reminds me of SLC!

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Freaks and Geeks

Have you ever read an article about how a star athlete was sidelined by a freak accident? For instance, a quarterback ends up on the injured reserve list because he pulled a back muscle while sneezing or a pitcher can’t pitch in rotation because he was coughing and blew a blood vessel in his dominant eye and is temporarily blind.

This morning, yours truly was nearly taken out by a dragonfly! What follows is a true and honest account of my experience this morning.

It is well known that the sidewalks in Chicago don’t maintain their structure for very long, with the moisture and the harsh winters; all the sidewalks are cracked, crumbling and hastily patched. They can be treacherous to the high-heeled wearing miss, especially near the intersections. This morning I was waiting at a crosswalk on Washington and Wacker when a dragonfly decided his morning snack was going to be my coffee. I tried to shoo the dragonfly away and cover my coffee, all the while side-stepping out of the way, when my left heel caught in one of the cracks and down I went onto my left side. Surprisingly I didn’t spill the coffee and all the contents in my purse stayed put. I immediately started laughing. The gentleman next to me was laughing as well while he helped me up. The light changed and we crossed the street, that’s when it hit me, if I’d fallen forward instead of to my left I would have been a goner, taken out in the prime of my life in a freak accident involving a dragonfly and quite possibly a speeding taxi.

Now I do not wish to leave this life anytime soon, I’m having a good time and hope to be here for many years to come, but I figure if you have to go, at least give your friends a good story to tell about this chick you once knew who got hit by a cab because she got her heel stuck in a sidewalk crack while trying to stop a dragonfly from drinking her coffee.

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Comments Please

Ok, this is the note I have come up with. Any suggestions?

Dear Neighbor in Apt #456;

Though we have never met before, I have been witness (audible) to your musical selections and on numerous occasions to your very loud movie selections. It is also true that on the rare quiet moments late at night and early in the morning I have even faintly heard your snoring. However, recently the noise level emanating from the bedroom area of your apartment has become, shall we say, more boisterous. To put it bluntly, your girlfriend’s coital screaming has reached a climax (pun absolutely intended). Monday morning’s 5:30 AM wake-up call is what has prompted this note. Although this last weekend’s numerous sessions could also figure in as well. The bed banging up against the wall promptly brought me out of a sound sleep along with the screaming.

My only request with this note is to ask you kindly to consider others in your sexual escapades, not that you should invite others, that of course is completely up to your and your partner. Please be aware that your neighbors around you can hear what’s going on in your apartment and more to the point of this letter, your bedroom when it reaches a certain volume.

We respect your privacy and hopefully you respect ours, but when it interferes in such an audible manner I feel it is time to say something.


Your Neighbors

Monday, July 7, 2008

Proximity and Promiscuity

My downstairs neighbor has a new girlfriend. Having never met my downstairs neighbor you might be wondering how I know he has a new girlfriend. This is a very valid question and here is my answer.

Since moving into my new apartment five months ago I have discovered certain things:
1) Cooking anything will set the smoke detector/CO2 detector off.
2) The 2nd elevator will never get fixed.
3) Doing laundry requires perfect timing to beat the rush on Sunday.
4) The water pressure never gets more than a hearty trickle.
And finally
5) The walls and floors are very thin; which brings me to the title of this post.

For the last five months I have overheard various exchanges within separate apartments as I’m passing by in the hallway: cats and dogs, birds, burps, fights, music, movies, morning alarms and sneezes. Numerous times I have heard my downstairs neighbor’s too loud stereo and television. Consequently, the only sound I’ve heard coming from the bedroom area has been very masculine snoring. However, for the last week the noise level from the bedroom has definitely ramped up! The moans and screaming have both kept me awake and awaken me. This morning’s caterwauling at 5:30 AM was not nice! I can forgive the weekend session; I mean really who doesn’t like a little on the weekends or a lot for that matter, but seriously at 5:30 AM on a MONDAY! The verbal emanations like those of a poorly acted porn movie were bad enough (then again aren’t all porn movies bad acting?), but the force of the bed hitting the wall vibrating up into my bedroom is where I draw the line.

I have decided to drop a note to the neighbor…I’m just not sure how to word it?

A reader posted this link and after checking it out, I definitely have an idea of the note I will be writing. Thanks Vicki. Stay tuned.

Thursday, July 3, 2008

Shimmy and Shake

Last night I attended my “official” first burlesque class, it FUCKING ROCKED, seriously! I have always been intrigued by the burlesque and pin-up girl history which has found a new resurgence among the Rockabilly types as well as maintaining an almost cultural awe among new performers of burlesque. The rich history of feathers, sequins and pasties is filled with the stuff of legend. The act of the tease and humor and eventually parodying sex is what makes burlesque so intriguing. I was finally drawn in by the costuming and celebration to feminine sexuality, and thus I agreed to take a month long class. The ladies in my class vary in color, shape, age and size, but we were all there together, all of us newbies and all of us ready to shimmy and shake.

As I was shimmying and shaking my way across the dance studio last night, I could almost imagine a former life of a burlesque queen. Some people would say I have both the breasts and legs for this genre; I can say I most definitely do not have the ass. Hips – YES! Ass - a resounding NO! When I start to shimmy the top, due to the sheer momentum and force that is generated, the rest of the body has no choice but to follow. While I can ultimately concentrate on the walk (I rock), the bump (hips totally work), the grind (needs a little work) and the shimmy (see above), I will leave the rump shaking to the girls with the junk in the trunk

We’ll see how far I take this, but for now it is light-hearted, giggle-inducing and whole lot of fun.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008


So this is my horoscope for today:

Pisces (2/19-3/20)
Resist the urge to share too much about yourself -- people could get overwhelmed.

In the way of fortunes it's pretty insightful, but not very inspiring. So I've been racking my brain trying to figure out if I was yearning to tell everybody something about me that would qualify as T.M.I. and that somehow today's fortune knew it and was trying to warn me against it and it totally reminded me of stories from my teenage years. Those of you who read this blog and are or were Mormon, prepare yourselves.

When I was a teenager and still trying desperately to portray the image of a good Mormon girl (because let's face it when you grow up in small town Utah, you're either Mormon or you're nobody) all the church teachers would talk about getting your patriarchial blessing. For those of you non-mormons reading this it's like a really long fortune, dictated by really old white men...only without the stale chinese cookie. Anyway, they would say it could either serve as a guide or a warning and they would tell you about the horror stories of those girls who were wild; and when they got their blessing it was full of all sorts of warnings and cautions, because God knew you were bad (cue scary organ music)! Seeing as how the church doesn't teach females anything except be a good wife and mother and heed your patriarchial blessing, I was fucked!

I knew at an early age I didn't believe it, but I was trying so desperately to make everybody else think I believed it because I wanted so very much to belong. But I knew enough to stop pretending in my late teens, thus I never did get my patriarchial blessing. I can guarantee you it would not have been filled with a receipe for Fat Mama's Knock You Naked Margaritas, for that you have to go to The Sweet Potato Queen's Book of Love!