GOING NUTS IN THE CITY

Just dropping in

2011-01-14T16:37:00.003-06:00

to say that this Petco ad is KILLING ME. STOP IT PETCO. STOP IT OR I WILL BUY A PUPPY WHO I CANNOT SUPPORT AND WILL BE ATTACKED BY MY CATS.

Cressbeckler v. Jones

2010-09-10T10:10:00.007-05:00

It's been months since I've blogged, but I'm back just briefly to ask whoever is listening if anyone else immediately thought Terry Jones was actually The Onion's grizzled, third-party character, Joad Cressbeckler.

I'm just sayin'...

Christmas/X-Mas

2009-12-18T13:10:00.002-06:00

I wrote this little thing three years ago, but it's been on my mind lately. I edited it up a bit and thought I would repost it. Happy Holidays to all who happened to check my blog six-plus months after my last post and discover this new post!

For over a year when I was barely not a toddler and not quite a kid, I asked my mom to read me “'Twas the Night Before Christmas” before bed every single night. I loved that book.

The copy I had seemed very old, which made it extra special. It was large with a hard binding covered in fabric. Its cover was bigger than both my hands spread wide across its surface, and I had to carefully balance it in my lap if I looked at it alone. Like most kids, the idea of this man who lived forever with the sole purpose of making presents year-round consumed me. It made sense that he existed. Who wouldn't love giving gifts for a living while supplied with an army of elves and cavalry of reindeer at your disposal?

But how was Santa the one who got the gig? Had nobody given gifts before him? Did Santa start Christmas? No, the Baby Jesus did. I had that book, too.

'That's tacky,' my mom said when our neighbors put up a neon sign that beamed out a green and red-lighted message: Happy X-Mas. I asked why, and she explained that the 'X' took all the nice things out of Christmas--that it made Christmas all about buying stuff and not about being with family and friends. 'Why bother putting up the sign if it doesn't even spell the whole word out? It's missing the real message.'

So I would return to my studies, poring over the famous Christmas Eve text, looking for clues on what the real message was. After my mom would say goodnight and shut my bedroom door, I'd pick the book back up from its spot on my bookshelf and, unable to read the majority of the words, I would stare at the pictures. There had to be something I was missing, and once I found it, the whole Santa-Jesus-Christmas thing would become clear to me. Instead, the pictures--out of the context of the story itself--became more confusing.

Most confusing was the last picture in the book. Santa had finished his big night--the gifts delivered, the cookies eaten, the milk drank. But here on the last page, without any words to explain, was Santa--lying out in the sun, stretched onto a beach chair with sunscreen slathered thick and white on his nose. He was holding a drink with a little umbrella in it like the ones that I could get at TGIFriday's with my soda if I asked the waiter nicely. Santa was on vacation.

A slew of questions arose: Did Santa stop at home before hitting the beach or did he leave the reindeer on their own to get back to the Pole? Where's his red suit and does he always wear yellow swim trunks when not decked in fur and red velvet? Where's Mrs. Claus? Does she get a vacation, or do she and the elves slave over the next year's toys beginning on December 26th without any help from Santa? When does his vacation end, does it last a week or until December 23rd of the next year?

After a year I got tired of trying to figure it out. I had learned to read almost all of the words in the book, I had stared at the pictures for hours on end, and nothing was becoming clearer. Santa, I guessed, would remain a mystery.

Perhaps driving this Christmas quest was my personal relationship with Jesus. I don't, however, mean 'personal relationship' in the way that a Catholic grandmother might mean it. I really mean 'relationship,' to the point where at age four, I had a crush on the Biblical figure and wanted him to be my boyfriend. Of all my imaginary playmates ("Charlaines" my five-dollar pink bear bought at KB Toys, Barbie, Grover from Sesame Street, and Elmo too--until I found out Elmo was a 'he' and not a 'she' and I felt terribly cheated), Jesus was my favorite. He was the most real and the nicest.

Where my relationships with other imaginary friends were sometimes strained—Charlaines and I were known to bicker over who got the window seat on the airplane fashioned out of meticulously be-rowed dining room chairs; Grover was antisocial and required lots of prodding to pull himself out of a morose mood; Barbie demanded my representation as her lawyer in multiple divorce court proceedings when her misguided romances with various Kens fell through; Elmo turned out to be a boy—my relationship with Jesus was pure, blissful. Our friendship was open, supportive and active. Jesus often wanted to play outside, dance to opera music, and he liked my drawings.

But my friendship with Jesus came crashing down around me during my last year in preschool. On a sticky August afternoon, Jesus and I were playing outside under my favorite tree in my backyard. My dad had made the swing--a truly rough tree swing fashioned with a flat, hard, butt-numbing wood board for a seat and two ropes that would give even the toughest sailors calluses. I loved it. So on this afternoon, I--willing to be a good friend and share--was pushing Jesus on the swing since it was His turn. Then, something happened. It might have been because I hadn't been spending much time lately looking at the illustrations in my Mom's childhood Bible, or maybe because I had waited so long before I did share the swing with Him, or maybe I was just pushing too hard... But suddenly, unexpectedly, Jesus flew back much farther than anticipated and I was hit in the face.

I fell onto my back, knocking my head on the ground. Worst of all was my chin--scraped by either His foot or the butt-numbing swing itself. I ran inside, crying and confused. While I sat in her lap, my mom put Neosporin, gauze and medical tape on my chin and I explained to her what had happened. Through my tears, I made a vow. I was done playing with Jesus.

It wasn't that I didn't believe in Jesus, I concluded, I just wasn't friends with Him anymore. I went back to studying my 'Twas the Night text. Sadly, Santa still wasn't providing explanations or answers as he smiled over his tropical drink. Even more devastating was when, clued in by context not too long after my break-up with Jesus, I found out that Santa was not real.

The details of this horrible revelation I do not remember. According to my mom, I asked for the truth in the car while running errands with her. I asked timidly and in a way that my Mom took to mean that I had figured it all out, and even if she couldn't pull over on Ohio Route 42 to talk about it, she should be honest with me then and there. She said that I was right, Santa didn't exist but that the spirit of Santa Claus was a very real thing. My mom tells me I cried quite a bit, but I've done a pretty great job repressing this moment. I do remember, however, that afterward I put the 'Twas the Night book on the shelf indefinitely, deciding I was too old for Santa, and feeling more confused than ever about what Christmas really meant.

Things have changed over the last twenty-plus years. I no longer resent Santa for not being real and I'm not begrudging Jesus for that scrape he gave me on the swing. I don't keep a copy of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas nor of The Holy Bible bedside. I don't believe in Santa, and I'm pretty sure Jesus was an okay guy, but not the son of God or anything.

Children in France are taught that Santa is Saint Nicholas, patron saint of children, sailors and pawnbrokers (Go figure). The story goes that on a cold, dark and snowy night, three lost children are taken into a warm cottage by a butcher who feeds them heavily and then tucks them into bed. Once the three little kids fall asleep, the butcher sneaks back into the room and chops them into bits and pieces, tossing their sliced and now salted remains into a barrel for later. Seven years pass, and St. Nicholas happens along the cottage after hearing the sliced and salted remains of the children cry for help from their barel. St. Nicholas pieces the kids back together and informs the butcher he can repent for his sins and, if he does so, God will set him free. In other versions of the story, St. Nicholas grabs the butcher by the heels and shoves him in the barrel for all eternity (forever and ever, amen), putting a new spin on French children's images of Hell.

I'm not sure at which point Nicholas went from being Saint to Santa and moved from France to the North Pole, but I'm okay with this story. Granted, it's bloody and dated (from the 1500s actually), but in it, Santa and God coexist and fight together in an epic battle of good versus evil. So I may not be sure how commercially and spiritually I want to spend my Christmas this year--the ratio of my time spent shopping at the mall and knelt in prayer now escapes me--but either way, they both beat the third alternative--spending seven years salty and in pieces at the bottom of a barrel. And I suppose that's a good reason to celebrate the holiday season.

Happy Holidays!

Changes

2009-06-03T09:31:00.003-05:00

'What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? - it's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's good-by. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.' --Jack Kerouac

Satellapalooza

2009-05-07T15:24:00.002-05:00

How cool is this? In just the last week or two, Google updated its satellite images of Chicago, including Grant Park. In doing so, they happened to capture Lollapalooza 2007! I have to say that the festival looks a lot tamer from the sky.

Another Day, Another Dream

2009-04-24T12:06:00.008-05:00

Every once in a while, I have one of those strange dreams that seems to really outdo all strange dreams that came before it. This dream, which I had just before I woke up this morning, definitely falls into that category.

I find myself in a hotel room, reminiscent of a dingy south Florida motel. Pink walls, exterior hallways, sliding patio doors--the whole bit. It's afternoon, and I'm getting ready for something.

My room, even with the lights off, is stuffy, so I decide to slide open the patio door and get some fresh air flowing inside the musty motel. As I step out onto my patio (I'm on the ground floor, facing the parking lot), I see a large group of nuns boarding shuttle buses.

I remember suddenly (or realize, or however it works in dreams) that I'm staying in a convent. A convent that happens to look a lot like a south Florida motel. I'm not a nun, but this sisterhood has taken me in for a short time while I work something out. They're loading the buses on a Friday afternoon to take some trip somewhere. I watch them board as the sun lowers behind the shuttles.

Just beyond my patio, a large cat sits with its back to me. As I watch its matted fur bristle in the breeze, it stretches and turns to face me.

"Mind if I come in?" the Cat asks.

Cat's voice is neither surprising to me nor gender-specific. Not really male, not really female. Just talking Cat.

"Sure," I answer, stepping backward into the room, making space for Cat to enter.

Cat saunters by, haunches swishing as it grazes past me to sit on the floor near the bed. For a few moments, Cat is quiet and the room fills with an uncomfortable silence. I turn back to the mirror where I had been before, brushing my hair and layering on mascara. Then Cat breaks the silence.

"You know they gave you the bad room, right?" Cat says, its eyes sweeping the room observingly.

"Oh, no," I respond quietly. "I didn't know that."

I blush, simultaneously embarrassed to impose upon the nuns and pissed that they gave me the Bad Room. It seems Cat knows its way around here, so if Cat says this is the Bad Room, then it's definitely the Bad Room. I wonder why I got stuck with these quarters. Maybe it was all that was left.

I look back over at Cat, who had turned to face the parking lot, watching the last of the sisters board the shuttle.

"Aren't you going with them?" Cat asks.

"Oh, no," I say, feeling guilty. I feel as if I should honor the sisters' charity by boarding the shuttles with them and attending their event as a sign of my respect and solidarity. "I have to go to my friend's show tonight."

"Oh," says Cat nonchalantly, neither approving nor disapproving of my decision. "That should be fun for you."

"Yes," I answer. "Yes, it should be."

Photo by serhenity

Recapturing his story

2009-04-02T14:18:00.005-05:00

I've been obsessively reading Errol Morris' 5-part piece in the New York Times investigating the life of Amos Humiston, a soldier who fell at Gettysburg. Humiston's story is well-known for Civil War and Gettysburg buffs. His body was found in Gettysburg, unidentifiable, clutching the ambrotype of three children. Through a twisted story, those children were identified by this ambrotype, giving a name to this soldier, their father, as well.

What Morris has done is attempt to untangle the story of Humiston's life, the life of his descendants and the tricky business of claiming the stories of lives through family, genealogy and media. The stories of this family have been exploited, revered and even ignored as some family members let letters and other documents disappear.

The five-part series is in Morris' blog, and it's pretty lengthy but an amazing story. Among the things highlighted is Amos Humiston's letters to his wife during the war. This passage in particular is touching, beautifully written and haunting since we know that Amos will never see his wife again.

"January 2, 1863: “If I ever live to get home you will not complain of being lonesome again or of sleeping cold for I will lay as close to you as the bark to a tree.”

An Explanation

2009-03-31T16:30:00.001-05:00

Recently I've gone missing in many ways--socially, sometimes mentally and emotionally, and certainly bloggily. My absence from UrbanSquirrelGirl can be justified, and I'm ready to explain.

A while back, I had this crazy idea for a documentary following the lives of Abraham Lincoln impersonators--those guys who don the stovepipe hats and march in parades or appear in classrooms. I kept the thought to myself, turning it around in my head, until I went on vacation to Colorado.

And now, a warning about mountains.

Mountains will make you say crazy things. Staring at their impossible peaks, you may begin to feel inspired. Perhaps you will scrawl poetry on a napkin or strum a guitar as you prepare to compose the next great American song. Careful what you say and do in these moments under the influence of mountains. I was not careful, and one little utterance has spawned months of hard work and mental/emotional/physical exhaustion. Here's how it played out.

John and I were driving in the early morning on the last Sunday in August. We were making our way through the dew in the Wet Mountain Valley with the Sangre de Cristos mountains rising up above us, cutting the morning sky open from a haze to a bright blue. It was beautiful. As John drove, I thought about the greatness of these mountains, of our country (the Democratic National Convention had been going on in Denver too, so that probably didn't help), and our country's history. The Lincoln idea sprung forth in my mind, and then, looking back up at the mountains, I lost all inhibition.

"I have this idea for a movie, and I want to make it!" I cried out to John, who was probably somewhat surprised. I then explained the details of my idea at great length and concluded with, "No matter what I say, you can't let me forget this idea or leave it behind. I think I'll regret it if I don't pursue this."

A week or so later, John met with the director of a non-profit film company in Chicago for a film of his own that he'd been working on. I was probably lazily eating ice cream on the couch or something when John mentioned that he had brought my film thoughts up to this guy and that he liked the idea and now wanted to meet me and discuss the possibility of making the film.

"What?!" I sputtered.

"You said not to let you forget this idea, remember?" John gently reminded me.

I cursed him a bit but decided it was time to put down the pint of Ben and Jerry's and get moving with this idea. And the moving has not really stopped since.

I've continued to dedicate myself to my day job and have worked on the film on nights, weekends and vacation days. The non-profit funding the film has given a great deal of support to it, and it's truly a fantastic group effort with a great team working on it. I feel extremely blessed and excited that this film is happening, but I kept it to myself for a long time for fear of totally jinxing it or embarrassing myself should it be some awesome failure.

But I've given up on that secrecy and fear of failure crap and am now basically sharing this film production with everyone who reads my blog (hey all three of you!) and anyone else who hadn't yet heard. I also wanted to apologize to any of those three blog readers and to my blog itself for ignoring UrbanSquirrelGirl for so long. I'm still in the thick of production, so I still won't be very good about updating for a while. I'll try to post links and updates about the film as I have them, starting soon.

Lots of Lincoln love,
Caitlin

Oh, and please pass the rolls.

2009-03-06T17:16:00.002-06:00

Yesterday afternoon I stumbled upon this little note I jotted down once upon a time. I thought it definitely worth sharing. :)

2003 G. Family Christmas Dinner Conversation

(On the topic of sexual promiscuity in college)

Mom: "So your body is like a hall."
Dad: "More like an auditorium!"

(A few minutes later, when discussing the propensity for gay guys to make out with straight girls for fun)

Dad: "'Please enter the auditorium from the side door!'"

Reflections on The Bachelor

2009-02-24T11:40:00.007-06:00

Thank God that's over. As much as I do enjoy a good The Women Tell All show, ABC has done a fantastic job upping the ante for their final episode and the ever so terribly dramatic After the Final Rose show. So it's no surprise that I had little interest last night in rehashing Megan and Erica's cat fights, hearing Orange McOrangePants from Suburban Chicago defensively talk about how fantastic she is, or checking in (yet again) with Trista and Ryan.

I do have to say that one fantastic bit of Bachelor/ette knowledge gleaned was the existence of Caesar, the seemingly sweet and unassuming limo driver who's stuck with ABC lo these long seventeen seasons, despite his better judgment. Between Chris Harrison giving the bro-hug to Caesar and pounding it with Jason ("Hey, man!"), I kinda wish Chris Harrison were every guy's BFF. I think the world might be a better place.

So as the interweb world fell apart in the chaos of conspiracy theories speculating about the uber-dramatic Finale and ATFR episodes ("I heard Jason dumps Melissa, proposes to Molly, dumps Molly, proposes to Jillian, then instead absconds with Orange McOrangepants to Chicago where they run into Noelle and Fred and where, after a night of revelry and "amazing" self-discovery, Jason sets up a storefront kissing booth to satisfy his lady cravings..."), it was nice to finally return to something pure and true to reality TV, like the WTA episode. It reminded us all of simpler times. (See below.)

The recent complaints of some Bachelor fans may have been slightly put to rest last night with the on-screen revelations of Holly and Jesse's relationship, as well as Noelle and Fred. (Noelle and Fred, btw, are totally adorbs.) That something "real" might be squeezed out of this reality show, even if it happens long after their seasons are over and only when the cameras aren't rolling, might reassure some fans who have sworn off Chris Harrison and the rest of the gang. Scripting of a TV show?! Well, I never!

I suppose I don't watch The Bachelor/ette to experience love through the eyes of a demi-celebrity on a reality TV show. If their relationship falls apart after the fact, so what? I had my cake watching the entertaining, and often ridiculous, drama that Chris Harrison and Company cooked up during the season--I don't need to eat it too.

What would The Bachelor be without fame-seekers like Matt Grant and Shayne Lamas? Or habitual inmates like Mary Delgado? Or the gratuitous ab shots of Jason Mesnick and his rehearsed hugs with his dragged-through-the-muck-of-reality-TV son, Ty? Can these camera-loving people like this really find love on national television as they drag innocent bystanders (see: Ty, Melissa's parents) through the process with them? I personally don't think so.

That doesn't mean the show doesn't work. Maybe more "normal" people can find love, like Trista and Ryan (who to their credit, seem almost boringly normal) or the recently be-sobered and be-normaled Charlie and Sarah (Probably not. Their stint last night reeked of seeking-new-TV-show-and-cash-money-contracts.). Maybe Jillian, should she come back to the show as The Bachelorette, could find someone normal too. But those normal people like Jillian are a breath of fresh air to a show clouded with the stormy drama queens (and kings) like Shayne, Orange McOrangepants, or Ryan from DeAnna's season. (Remember Ryan's bleep? Ah, the good old days.)

But let's be genuine here--those precious drama queens and kings are really what make the show enjoyable. Without them to temper the sweetness, The Bachelor would be a saccharine slope so slippery with sugar and rose petals that we'd probably all go careening down its side and wind up changing the channel to watch something like Gossip Girl or Bridezillas just to get a decent dose of vile.

So I can't blame ABC if this finale is scripted or tweaked or whatever else. It's what I'm watching and what I want to watch, so I'm asking for it. Give me what I want, Chris Harrison!

So until next week's uber-dramatic finale and ATFR episode, I am imagining the couples who--like Holly and Jesse or Noelle and Fred--might belong together. The Bachelor/ette may not have brought them together in front of the cameras, but my friends, these people are destined for one another. Any thoughts on other couples of Bachelor/ettes past who belong together? Here are just a few of the couples and how they will most certainly meet.

Nikki and Jeremy

Perfectionists at the core, Nikki and Jeremy met at a self-improvement seminar hosted by Chris Harrison. Jeremy reminded Nikki that long before Jason stole his ab thunder, he rocked the abs of steel for DeAnna. Meanwhile Nikki absent-mindedly pinned her 'do into place and used L.A. Looks gel of steel to mold her stray hairs into place. Today, they run a Vitamin Shoppe together in southwest Chicago burbs where Jeremy doles out law advice on the cheap and Nikki, selling all-natural teeth whiteners, knocks the confidence of future beauty queens.

Brian and Stephanie

The two sweet former contestants ran into one another at a vegan bakery where Stephanie had brought Sophia for a special cupcake because it was a Saturday, and that is how the wonderful mother and daughter spent their time together on Saturday. The Silver Fox, upon seeing them there, swept Stephanie up into his arms, bought a car seat for Sophia, and the rest is history.

Matt and Raquel

Recognizing their common bond of superior international descent, Matt and Raquel met in Barcelona where Matt had gone to party away his Hollywood sorrows. It took only one salsa dance about the room with Raquel to tame the Brit Bach into domestic bliss. They now run a dance studio together in Mumbai and served as extras on the final dance scene of Slumdog Millionaire.

Kelly and Erika

As two loud drunks from seasons past, the two ladies met at a bar, challenged each other to a drinking contest, took some snakebite shots together and immediately recognized their bond. They now run a therapy center together, where they occasionally host conferences entitled "I'm a Reality TV Reject, Now What? : Recovering From Your Televised Post-Traumatic Stress."

Twilley and Shannon

Twigs and Resident Bachelor Stalker Shannon met at a post-traumatic stress conference hosted by Kelly and Erika. The two skittered into one another, Shannon rubbed some black napkin on her face, they fell in love and lived happily ever after.

Oh-oh, uh... I'm sorry, I'm not ready. Oh, no. You go ahead--no, you.

2009-02-19T14:44:00.008-06:00

I'm notoriously bad about making decisions, particularly on the spot and especially when I feel out of place. Some people imagine hell as a place with brimstone and fire. My hell includes choices of toppings, condiments, and a waitress named Daisy who wants to know if I prefer white or wheat. God help me.

John is unfortunately familiar with my habit of waffling over menus and panicking in smaller, more intimate environments. In a Chipotle, I can never remember what salsa I like best (mild with just a little bit of medium, Caitlin! how can you forget this?!) and consistently forget to order my Burrito Bowl "to go," even if I'm eating in, just so I can shake it up and evenly distribute that lettuce throughout the whole bowl. It tastes worlds better, I swear.

I let people ahead of me in line because I can't choose a muffin; I surrender to the barista when I can't make a coffee drink choice; I flounder and order specials because I can't choose between the French onion soup and a French dip.

So when I decided to grab Subway for lunch the other day, John coached me through it via gChat. Needless to say, I don't go to Subway very often. Perhaps a belated New Year's Resolution should be increased decisiveness.

John: dont panic in line

me: i'll try not to!

John: just take your time and think about what toppings you want

and if they give you too much or too little, don't be afraid to tell them

me: are tey going to ask me questions?!

John: you can do it

1:25 PM me: oh no!

eeeeek!

John: don't panic!

calm down

and just say may i please have a sandwich

me: cause i really don't want black olives on my sandwich.

John: and then answer their questions one at a time

that's ok--you just tell them that

me: will they name the toppings for me?

1:26 PM or am i expected to be such a regular that i will know them?

John: no, you have to look at them

me: oh god

okay

John: there's a clear plastic

it's called a sneeze guard

me: i know these

John: good!

now we're getting somewhere

me: the toppings will be visible beyond the sneeze guard

1:27 PM John: yes

me: okay.

John: you think you can do it?

me: i'm not sure what's going to be good on my sandwich

i'm afraid i'm going to screw it up

1:28 PM John: onions and lettuce for show

*sure

beyond that its up to you :)

me: ok

John: maybe ask them what they recommend

me: i'm watching a video on it

John: also, you have five different breads to choose from

me: http://www.subwayfreshbuzz.com/menu/freshfit_choices/sweet_onion_chicken_teriyaki/

OMG

five breads?

i hate this.

okay, i give up.

1:29 PM i'm not eating lunch.

thank you for trying to help me though

The Bachelor: Jason Goes to New Zealand and Gets on a Boat

2009-02-16T22:52:00.004-06:00

Chris Harrison kicks us off this episode with another over-extended recap of the entire season, which thankfully only lasts about about five minutes. (As compared with last week’s twenty-five minute rehashing—this was a welcome break.)

So here we finally are on our Fantasy Dates! One man. Three beautiful women. On the dates of a lifetime. And in one of the most beautiful places in the world: New Zealand!!

Here we are in Seattle at the Sleepless house once more with Jason packin’ up to head out to NZ. It’ll be hard to say goodbye to Ty again, Jason tells us. (Really? It’s starting to feel like he’s a pro at it.) ABC’s production assistants did a nice job on this one, cuing up a framed shot of Ty’s baby picture next to a framed shot of him and Dad together, throw in some keys, a plane ticket all thrown on the dresser, and bam! Emotion. THIS is how television is made.

Rehashing the ladies one more time for us, I do pick up on some new details.

Re: Jillian. Way back when Jillian was rocking the side ponytail and the hot dog shtick, ABC used gaffe tape to cover up the French’s Mustard label. Nice! Oh, and the same old same old about how Jillian needs to be more than a friend. Yawn. “If there’s passion, I can see myself married to Jillian.”

Re: Molly. Jason tells us that he thinks that Molly was kind of held back at first. If you’ll recall, Molly’s special talent was “kissing,” which Jason found very reserved. That’s why he invited her over for the overnight date. “On our first date, Molly slept over—I mean, we totally hit it in the Tent of Love! I mean, she spent the night slumber-party style with two separate sleeping bags, kids.” Jason’s V/O keeps things nice and vague: “We need our relationship to go to the next level--” (Read: They need to start doing more than just flirt and stare into one another’s eyes and chew one each other’s faces.) “If that happens, Molly is someone I could spend the rest of my life with.”

Re: Melissa. “Melissa immediately reminded me of my ex and of Deanna,” Jason tells us. Fantastic. Sounds healthy. We also got a nice flashback to that emotional wrap party, and I suddenly realize how alcohol-fueled all those tears were. So what’s holding Jason back from Melissa. Her terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad family. The fact that they didn’t’ show for the hometown date made Jason question “whether Melissa is really serious.” Uhhh… Okay. So Jason now wants to spend his time with Melissa in NZ getting to know why she had to insist on her parents not wanting to meet him. Great.

Welcome to New Zealand!
Jason visits yet another beach—this time wearing his shirt—where he tells us that these fantasy dates are an opportunity to spend some real “quality” time, “and more than that, we get to spend the night together!” Oh, and uh, he’s gonna be spending time with his future wife.

Fantasy Date with Jillian
Jillian and Jason meet one another in their matching flannies to spend some time up in a helicopter for yet another aerodate. Although it is another aerodate, I have to say that Jill got the best one. New Zealand > Los Angeles > Las Vegas.

The copter lands on a ledge to take in a big view. “There was no else there for miles and miles,” Jason tells us. “No one for miles and miles and miles other than the copter crew, the cameramen, the various production assistants throwing down the sheep skin blanket and wine. It was awesome.”

“I’m so happy to be here with you,” says Jason.
“Me too. Thanks, Babe,” says Jill. Babe?? Maybe it’s just my own book of lovey-dovey names, but Babe is a very intense lovey-dovey name. It means you’re pretty intimate, comfortable and in love. Maybe that’s just me. I’ll stop now.

Jillian: If you had to describe me to people back home, what would you say?
Jason: You’re fun!
Jillian: Oh, okay.
Jason: Well, what about me?
Jillian: Definitely what you are to me is the person who I’m the most attracted to ever, the person who I have an amazing connection with, have great conversations with, and someone who gets me right away.
Jason: Cool!

Jillian tells us that she has never felt this way before and that she sees Jason as someone who could be both her best friend and her husband. It’s safe to say she’s falling in love with him.

Jillian tells us that she wants to marry her best friend, and gives her grandparents as an example of this kind of love. As the ABC crew sends the tipsy couple to the edge of the cliff to play Jack and Rose, Jason tells us that he used to feel the same way as Jillian about wanting a best friend for a spouse, but now he wants more than that. “Is it too much to ask for the world?” Jason asks us. I vomit in my mouth.

That night, Jason and Jill meet at a winery. Jason wants to make sure there’s a romantic connection with Jill before he invites her to the overnight Fantasy part of the night. Naturally, Jason grills Jillian to find out her favorite parts of the day and what it is she likes about being here. Jillian passes with flying colors, concluding her sonata On Being a Bachelorette with, “I’m crazy about you. I am. And I’ve never, in my entire life, felt like someone is more meant for me than you are.” Bam! That’s enough for Jason to go in for the kiss and the sound guy to go for the synthesizer love music.

I particularly enjoyed that Jillian asked for the Fantasy Suite card. “Do you think you can handle a whole night with me?” Jillian flirts. Wow. Girl is really turning up the heat. Finally, we’re getting our time alone says Jason.

Here things get weird. Jillian’s wearing these black furry boots with her incredibly cute blue bikini. Then, after they dip into the hot tub, Jill tells Jasons, “I never ever ever imaged that I’d be falling in love with someone like you. I think you’re the most remarkable person I’ve ever met.” Then, sound guy brings in some weird bass synth, followed by the Spanish soft core music, followed by hot, blurry shots of candles and skin. The rest really cannot be written out here because it just isn’t right to sully this blog.

Date with Molly
Molly gets stuck with a rainy day for a date, but girl doesn’t let that get in the way of some tongue time right away. As the walk away, we are privy to a nice shot of our friendly ABC crew, umbrella in tow over the equipment. I begin to ponder just how many people have to work on this show to make it happen and whether Chris Harrison will acknowledge this blip in his blog tomorrow…

Back to the date. Jason and Molly are going to go bungy jumping. Not quite an aerodate… but close. After some nerves at the top, the two jump from the bridge to the tunes of happy ABC guitar music.

After drying off and changing clothes, they grab some lunch and Molly pulls out her list of questions entitled, “Things You Might Normally Learn About a Person While Dating Them But Because This is The Bachelor and We’re Always Making Out Instead of Talking, I Wrote Out These Questions With a Marker on the Plane Ride so I’m Sure I Know You Like Hamburgers.”

We learn that Jason loves Greece (already knew that one), his Air Jordans (who doesn’t?) and that he doesn’t like breakfast.

At dinner that night, Jason asks more awkward questions. There’s some talking over one another and idle chitchat of how great New Zealand is. After that, this conversation was hard to follow for me. Molly tells Jason that she has a wall up and that her family doesn’t always say that they love one another but that she would like to kiss Jason all day every day, which was nothing new to me. Finally, Molly spits out, “I really think I’m falling in love with you.”

Just like Jillian, Molly asks Jason to spend the night with her first. Jason must be starting to feel a little bit like the girls are stealing his thunder.

Of course, sleeping together is nothing new for Jason and Molly. This time they get a big soaking bubble bath instead of the hot tub. Not as cool due to the bubble-beards.

Date With Melissa
Jason is still pretty PO’d he didn’t get to meet Melissa’s family. Melissa is naturally fear-stricken. After they first meet, Melissa says she doesn’t get surprises very often. “Not even from your family??” Jason asks surprised. “No,” Melissa offers awkwardly. Then they do that adorable look-at-each-other-at-different-times and laugh uncomfortably thing.

Jason, not sure if Mel is still just that simple cheerleader he first thought her to be, asks if she knows who Winston Churchill is. Fortunately, Mel does and adds while pointing to her head, “This isn’t just a hat rack, you know!”

Turns out that this date, while not aero-themed, does take place on Churchill’s old boat which has somehow wound up here in merry old New Zealand. Perhaps Winston blew past that Iron Curtain to chillax with the crew from Lord of the Rings on his pimpin’ boat. Oh, I’m sorry. Did someone say boat?

Melissa and Jason spend their time on the boat talking about Melissa’s feelings, which are generally nervous, scared, and just generally worried.

On cue, Jason says that he wishes he could say he had no doubts about Melissa, but because he didn’t get to meet her parents, he feels he doesn’t know her.

That doesn’t stop him from going in the hot pools, which judging from their reaction, were very very hot. Fortunately, they finally get their chance to talk about Melissa’s parents. The two ponder why her parents did not want to be a part of this extraordinary, reality TV experience. Imagine that. Jason does say he can fall in love with Melissa without meeting her parents, but it can only go so far.

That evening, Melissa and Jason meet at downtown Queenstown where it looked like Melissa was freezing. At a restaurant downtown, they get their own private room. Unfortunately, the parents continue to dominate the conversation. Melissa is the first girl not to demand her Fantasy Suite before Jason can offer it.

Back at the suite, Melissa talks more about how scary this situation is. I’m starting to wonder if these two have forgotten how to talk to one another. In between “you knows” and “ums,” Melissa finally manages to sputter out, “I have absolutely fallen in love with you, head over heels,” and before she can get another few words out, Jason kisses her. Thank goodness. Jason tells us he can finally open up to her now that he knows that.

Before the Rose Ceremony
Jason can see himself with each of the three girls, but they’re each so different. At this point, he has no idea who he’s going to send home.

Chris Harrison and Jason catch up on Jason’s time in New Zealand. Jason got what he wanted out of Jillian; Jason finally got Molly to open up somewhat; and finally, Jason is still worried about not having met Melissa’s family, just in case you hadn’t surmised that yet from this entire episode.

Finally, the ladies taped some video segments to give their final pitch to Jason. First up: Jillian:

“Hey Babe--” Babe again!! “I just wanted to say thank you so much for every moment I’ve shared with you and for showing me how it is to fall in love again. I’m in awe of you and how you’ve turned a life of adversity into such a positive life. I know that we fit each other—our families, our attitudes—and if we are together, we’re share a life of laughter and home cooked meals!” (I’m going to hope that they had some sort of insider convo we didn’t hear about home cooked meals because that last bit was confusing.)

Next up, Molly:
“Haaay, Jaaay. Recognize the view? Get it? We went bungee jumping! I just wanted to thank you for an incredible date. You made it easy for me to open up with you, and I cannot wait to spend more time with you. I can tell you that I am madly in love with you so I can’t wait to see what happens next.”

Next up, Melissa:
“Hey you. I just wanted to tell you that, um, I want to thank you, um, for making it so easy to be me around you and making it so, um, easy to talk to you, and um, fall in love with you. You know I’ve been basically freaking out all week, but spending the day with you helped reaffirm everything for me. Thank you for being you (he said this once to her, remember that?). I miss you, and I love you.”

Jason offers some final thoughts. “I’m falling for three girls who could be great in Ty’s life and in my life. I don’t know how I am going to break someone’s heart today. But I’m not here for a six month relationship or a three-week relationship. This will be one of the toughest things I’ve ever had to do.”

Most Dramatic Rose Ceremony Ever (Again)
Chris Harrison greets the ladies, thanks them for spending their time in New Zealand and gently reminds them that one of them will be on a plane heading home tonight. When Jason finally comes out, he looks a lot like he might throw up all over Chris Harrison.

“You—“ he begins, swallows and starts again. “You three are the most amazing women I’ve ever met. I’m falling for all three of you for different reasons. But tonight I have to do the most selfish thing I’ve ever done and send one of you home tonight. Thank you for sharing this with me.”

One rose goes to Melissa, who can go one more week sweating it and talking about how nervous she is.

The other rose goes to Molly, and my jaw literally hits my chest.

Poor Jillian breathes heavily and tries to smile.

“I’m sorry,” Jason says. “I don’t want you to ever doubt that I don’t have strong feelings for you because I do. I’ve never met anyone like you before. I think our lives are a little bit different. You’ve got an amazing life, and I won’t be able to keep up with you and you deserve someone you can.”

Jillian responds that her adventures were because she was single and she was looking for the right person and she thought she had found him.

Jason brings Jillian back to her talk of finding her best friend, saying that that was the path they were on—best friends.

Jillian responds that at the end of the day, or when you’re 90 years old, you’re going to want to be with your best friend.

Jason snips that it’s your best friend AND MORE.

Jillian slaps her forehead, cries “You got it, Sherlock!” and then says she thought they did have friendship and more. Then she tells him that she has fallen in love with him and shares with him a dream that she, Jason and Ty were all a family. “But at the end of the day, I’m not looking for what I did right or wrong because I was myself. And I’m looking for someone who loves me for me,” Jillian concludes. Gotta love this girl—can we say next Bachelorette? Can we just continue sending the cast-offs to the next rounds? Cause seriously.

In the limo, Jillian says that she was jaded before coming to this show, but she learned that she could love, she wore her heart on her sleeve, and this was not how she wanted it to end. “I have not had it easy my entire life, so I do not expect,” she says. “I didn’t expect anything. I thought maybe one day I’d have that fairy tale ending, but this decision that he made today broke my heart.”

Back at the winery/hotel/lodge place, Jason cries a bit, but then tells us he just wasn’t in love with Jillian. At the end of the day, Jason tells us that there are two girls he is falling in love with and he cannot wait to introduce them to Ty. “Here’s to another week in New Zealand spending time with my family!”

I'd like to take this short moment to just throw out a PSA that these two girls are 24 and 25 years old. Jason first got married in 2003, back when these two ladies were 17 or 18 years old. I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around these ladies being ready for stepmom-hood, but whatevs.

And next week, it’s the reunion show you won’t want to miss, Chris Harrison tells us. And in TWO weeks, it’s the most dramatic season finale ever with awkward moments with Ty, some rolling around in beds, some more shots of Jason’s abs, DeAnna’s return, some really ugly crying on balconies, and apparently something so dramatic that only Chris Harrison could be involved. All I have to say is that whatever it is, it better redeem this season, ABC!

Yeah, it's cold here; No, I didn't vote for Blago.

2009-02-11T13:43:00.010-06:00

This week, Forbes named Chicago #3 on its Most Miserable Cities List. The Windy City, Chitown, Metropolis in the Land of Lincoln, or Obamaland (take your pick) fell short of Stockton, California and Memphis, Tennessee. According to Kurt Badenhausen, Chicago is even more miserable than Flint, Michigan. Has Kurt visited Flint recently? Not surprisingly, everyone is talking about it.

Of course, Kurt and Forbes are schilling—like so many journalists and struggling media enterprises--coming up with arbitrary lists (Remember the 25 most influential liberals in media? Wasn’t that in Forbes just last week?), hoping to stir up reaction from readers, scrounge together some online page views for measly ad dollars, and pretend that money mag Forbes is above everybody else’s miserable money problems. Oh yeah, Chicago has such a high employment rate. Nevermind the fact that Forbes just consolidated all its departments into one and rumors of layoffs have been swirling about its news desks for months.

So, Kurt, what makes Chicago so terrible?

"Lousy weather, long commutes, rising unemployment and the highest sales tax rate in the country are to blame for the Windy City being near the top of our list. High rates of corruption by public officials didn't help either."

Yes, and the subway smells in New York, there’s smog in L.A., frozen corpses lie scattered in Detroit, Disney laid people off in Orlando, and former President George W. Bush has returned to Crawford, Texas, so let’s throw all those spots on the list too!

Kurt doesn’t bother addressing the flippantly-mentioned commute issue (Yeah, the CTA isn’t the MTA, but it’s not like Chicagoans are taking rickshaws to work.), doesn’t bother pointing out that rising unemployment seems to be a trend outside the Chicagoland area, and makes a weak barb at the weather we had here in January (Seventeen below, har har har!). Instead, he focuses most of his argument against Chicago on our sales tax and corrupt politicians. While they’re legitimate arguments, I don’t think an inflated sales tax and a few crappy governors (Sarah Palin, anyone? Did Wasilla make the list too?) warrant tacking a big fat #3 on Chicago.

But go ahead, Kurt Badenhausen and Forbes Magazine, call us whatever you want. You were bound to leechily suck some measly page views out of your Miserable City Song and Dance Routine (Did I mention they made a slideshow out of the article too? Be sure to click through every single picture of every single city!), so congratulations on all your success. For Chicago, it may be a welcome blow since all that sing-song praise we got last fall, fueled by our continued nomination for the 2016 Summer Olympics and Barack Obama’s golden November. Even another magazine, FastCompany, named Chicago 2008’s City of the Year with a beautiful article penned by my former teacher Alex Kotlowitz. Alex wrote a bit more than a list to pay homage to the soul that is this city—something that Forbes and Kurt might want to consider.

But let’s stick instead with this #3 Most Miserable rating. That’s right, America. Chicago is the pits. We’re worse than Detroit, than Cleveland, and probably than your town too. We’re terrible. Stay away. Don’t move here, and should you have to visit, keep it short. Us Chicagoans will suffer our sales tax, our governors, our bone-chilling winters and soul-lifting summers, our fattening foods and expansive lakefront, our arts scene and music world, our diverse neighborhoods and beautiful architecture, our industrial proud past and our incredible innovative future alone. We’ll bear that burden just fine, and if Forbes can help us continue to weed out the New York lackeys like Kurt who should stay away and keep the general city population down, we’ll appreciate the help.

The Bachelor: Jason: The hometown episode!

2009-02-10T20:20:00.003-06:00

Ah, the trusty hometown date where we are ensured a ridiculous or dramatic time in at least one hometown. This time, Canadian flags, floppy hats, dead doves, and no-show parents ruled the day.

It must be said in the over-inflated rehashing of The Bachelor, the sound mixer has really, truly improved. That Schindler's List-esque violin during recollections of Stephanie's goodbye really could pull some heartstrings.

Oot and Aboot in Canada with Jillian!

Welcome to British Columbia, Canada! Jason is glad he finally got to see Jillian’s soft side but he still isn’t convinced that she’s here for him. Seriously? Who does Jason think he's kidding? Jillian woos Jason with stories of her close encounters with Canada’s own lochness monster, Ogo Pogo.

The two then share a trip to a winery, which Jason tells us is beautiful but NOT AS BEAUTIFUL AS JILL. Awwwwwww!!!!

Jillian, having gotten the monster part of the visit out of the way, opens up about why she feels the need to be strong and her family’s issues with her mother’s depression. Jason naturally responds with some concerned nods and then jumps on his opportunity for a makeout session.

When it’s time to meet the family, the whole clan is hanging oot in the living room with their Canadian flag. “Ooh, weelcoomme, Jaaasonnn!” The whole fam gets a good giggle oot of Jillian’s silly hot dog routine. Everybody joins hands and sings O Canada in roond.

Peggy gives a toast to her daughter Jillian, which starts a little rough, but the moment where she said that diamonds are made under pressure kind of caught my throat a bit, I won’t lie.

Peggy pulls the dreaded mother-in-law routine, pulling Jason ootside to ask him her toilet paper full list of questions.

Ma Canada: What are your responsibilities in a marriage?

Jason: To be a partner, Ma Canada. Duuuh. And mustard!

Ma Canada: How do you handle conflict?

Jason: I’m a listener.

Ma Canada: That’s good to hear. You have a BA in psychology, right?

Jason: Uhh, yeah!

(Awkward laughter.)

Jillian and Tori, who has been moonlighting as hot young teacher on Gossip Girl (xoxo!), gossip about Jason while he’s out with Ma Canada. Jill gets teary-eyed telling her cousin how much Jason has come to mean to her.

A little bit later, Ma Canada pulls Jillian close to her bosom and Jill again becomes overwhelmed with emotion describing her feelings for him.

Glen and Jason spend some dude time together in a creepy utility closet. Glen, revealing where Jillian gets her happy-crying, tears up as he tells us just how much Jillian means to him. I grab the Kleenex and pull it closer.

Surprise! Granny arrives. Gramma Marjorie says Jason is a gorgeous specimen of man, and thankfully she no longer has to sell Jillian for beaver pelt to a Ukranian man in the northland. Granny also brings the funnies with a pair of Joe Boxer Canadian flag boxers. I am thoroughly impressed.

When it’s time to leave, Jason asks us how he could possibly ever leave Jill and her family in his future?

Country Clubs, Floppy Hats and Art, Oh My! in Grand Rapids, Michigan

Remember when Jason and Molly first met and they bonded over golfing? Well, fortunately, Molly’s super-selective family has an exclusive membership to the neighborhood country club. They spend more time on their kissy picnic than chopping away at the course with their nine irons.

Once Jason and Molly finally pull up to Molly’s fam’s house, it’s clear that the family lives right there on the green with a nice view of the ninth hole from the living room window. After settling down and first introductions, Maryann pulls out some major hats to test Jason’s funny bone. Saddled with the Indian headdress, Jason is tested yet again as Maryann decides to play psychiatrist, asking Jason to draw Molly’s face at his most favorite memory with her. When it’s finally time to leave, Jason says that he won’t get to see her for a while and he’s got a decision to make.

Doves Cry in Lake Elsinore, CA

Jason is ready to spend some time with his cowgirl ladyfriend, Naomi. I can’t help but wonder how this girl is still around. Naomi, in an attempt to prove me wrong, tells Jason just how ready for a life with him she is.

Every family is different, Naomi tells us, and mine is probably as different as it gets.

Oh yeah? Something more different than art time and floppy hats?

Joanne and Hector, Naomi’s parents who are separated, plus a bajillion kids who I could not keep straight are there to meet Naomi and Jason. Naturally, Joanne greets them with hula hoops. Here, things really go awry. As Joanne relays the story of hitting a dove with her car, one of the many children brings the be-paper-bagged carnage outside for a burial. Hector, eyes rolling in the background, thanks his lucky stars that he got out of this world when he did. Jason forces a smile through the whole thing.

Yes, congratulations, Naomi. Joanne has definitely taken the crazy award from Art Time Maryann.

After digging a shallow grave for Rosie the Dove, Hector and Jason get their dude time in the living room/family casino. Hector explains that he has risen above his divorce with religion, explains that Naomi has been raised with Jesus as her main man, and asks Jason to take a short test about marriage and the Bible. I am squirming in my seat.

No sooner does Hector have Jason reciting Corinthians before Joanne comes along to steal Jason away. I just begin to crawl out from under the couch in relief when Joanne starts talking about truth seekers and the color indigo. Jason cannot even hide his confusion in his face.

Meanwhile, Hector checks in for some dad-daughter time with Naomi to confirm her spiritual standing. Naomi wishes she and Jason had talked about religion before now. Though they may have had a moment to share these deep thoughts as Jason left, they opted for an intense tongue twisting instead. While they swapped spit, someone inside the house (I imagine one of the dozens of children) opened the door and definitely sneaked a peek.

The Disappearing Family in Dallas, TX

In Texas, Mel’s terrible, horrible, no-good, very-bad parents wanted absolutely nothing to do with ABC and no amount of coaxing from Chris Harrison could convince them otherwise. Instead, Mel had to sheepishly present her terribly good-looking, happily-married young couple friends (with kids, to boot!) to Jason as a consolation.

But no worries. This meet-up with friends followed all the same requirements of any hometown date:

Mel cried when discussing her feelings for Jason.

Children ran around happily.

Dude-time included some stereotypical dude-like element—in this case, pool.

And, last but not least, serious make-out time between Mel and Jason.

Return to Seattle

Back in Seattle, Jason has a lot to think about so Chris comes over to help work it all out.

Chris: So Jason, a lot happened this week.

Jason: Yeah, but I didn’t like how I couldn’t slam my tongue down the throat of each girl one after the other or say all their nicknames in a row. Jill-Mol-Nay-Mel. Jilmonamel. I was thinking of naming my second born that.

Chris: That’s good. How was your time with Jill?

Jason: Canada ROCKS. Grandma was AWESOME. And I freaking love the Canadian flag. But I’m just not totally convinced that Jill’s a match for me. (pause) Did you get that? OK, good. Cause we all know I’m actually totally in love with her.

Chris: We got it, thanks. How about Mol?

Jason: Oh, Molly and her country club membership-toting, hat-wearing, art-psychologist parents are just fantastic. They really showed me who Molly is—she’s a country club membership-toting, hat-wearing, art-psychologist. Did I mention that when I first got married to my ex-wife in 1998, Mol was totin’ braces in eighth grade? WEIRD, huh, Chris?

Chris: Uh, yeah, actually. That is kind of weird. What about Eva Mendes?

Jason: Um, well. Her family… was something… um… I didn’t… expect. They are… unique. And religious. And neo-spiritual. And unique.

Chris: Let’s just leave it at that. What about the Melster?

Jason: Well, I didn’t meet her terrible, awful, no-good parents since apparently not everyone is willing to open up their lives to ABC like me, am I right Chris? But I did meet her friends. So that’s cool.

Chris: Are you ready to let a lady go this evening?

Jason: Well, yeah. I hope I can still swap some spit before I ditch her, but basically I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

After Chris leaves, Jason does some more deep thinking on the bow of the houseboat.

Rose Ceremony

This rose ceremony, ABC finally did it right at the hotel. No more of that presidential suite crap—we’re talking full-on banquet haaaaallll! Holla!

Jason: Hey laaaadies. I had such a great time this week. Mel, your friends are totally good-looking. Jill, you are SO your family, dude! Nay, your family is pretty nutso, but it’s okay. And Mol, your family is unbelievable, and by unbelieveable I mean they’re country club membership-toting, hat-wearing art psychologists. Anyway, you all mean the world to me, but here goes.

Roses go to:

Molly, who thanks her lucky stars that Mom didn’t scare Jason away.

Jillian, who Jason must continue to pretend he’s unsure of.

Melissa, whose non-existant family is apparently better than Naomi's eccentric one, the poor thing.

As they say goodbye, Jason let's his explanation loose: "It’s not that I don’t think you’re wonderful, and it’s not that your family is kinda out there. I just think that we’re in different places right now."

Naomi: Well, I am. I was hoping to hear you say that you felt more strongly for the other women, not that I am not ready because that’s just not the case.

Awwww, snap!

As she drives away, in more sweeping overhead shots of the exiting limo, Naomi tells us that she was ready to move to Seattle and settle down and that she didn’t want to have her heart broken again.

Jason bounces back for the champagne toast to the next week—here’s to New Zealand!! Now, finally! We know the reason behind the drastic scale-back in funding here. That’s it, ABC. There better be some really good audio mixing next week!

The Weekend Weekend Weekender

2009-02-05T14:33:00.001-06:00

So The New York Times has been running this ad pretty regularly on the east coast, much to the chagrin of TV watchers who are tired of it apparently.

So, naturally, a brilliant parody of it has cropped up, thanks to the 92nd St Y. "The Pictures of Goats Section!"

[via Gawker]

If I Never Kneeew Youuuuuu

2009-02-04T22:53:00.005-06:00

Oh, Roger and Rafa. You both just pulled away at my heartstrings on Sunday.

I stayed up late Saturday night to watch as much of the Australian Open live as I possibly could. I made it until about 4:45 AM, when I realized that my body was shaking from being so tired. I slept for seven hours, got out of bed and rolled into the living room to watch the remainder of the match.

The end of the match--an anti-climactic moment marred by a yelling fan, in my opinion--left me feeling down, and I turned off the TV, so I missed the Federer-crying bit. I finally got up the courage to watch tonight. (It's here, if you want to see for yourself.)

Naturally, seeing my tennis idols all sappy-sad-happy at the same time made me very emotional, and I went on a Google Quest to find out more of their relationship. I don't have anything insightful to offer, but I DID find this incredibly hilarious video which perked me right back up. Pairing a love ballad from Disney's Pocahontas with a slideshow of pictures of two male tennis players playing tennis?? BRILLIANT! I absolutely, positively encourage your viewing of it. If you aren't into the whole 4 minutes, please skip to 3:20 and watch from there.

Live-Blogging The Bachelor: Jason, episode 5

2009-02-03T10:22:00.007-06:00

Man oh man, I'll be honest, people. This was one boring episode--except for the "most emotional rose ceremony ever." Don't worry--I suffered through it so you don't have to... or so that you can relive just how awful it was.

Chris "Another Morning in the Mansion" Harrison informs us that the ladies will be going to Seattle, and everyone is sooo excited!

While the ladies fly the sunny skies, Jason and Ty reunite in Seattle, where apparently Jason lives at the Sleepless in Seattle house.

Finally landed in Seattle, the ladies pull up in their limo to their hotel, and oh-em-gee, it's Jaaaaason! More and more screaming that recalls those first few precious episodes when everything was carefree.

Date With Melissa: Let's Hit the Town in Style! Until Ty RUINS Melissa's NIGHT! Gah, Kids!

Melissa primps while Jason walks around in yet another gratuitous shirtless shot and Ty is a "grumpy pants." Let's face it. We've all been there. Grumpy pants is a place we're all familiar with.

So to compromise between his lady friend and his little boy, Jason decides to invite Mel over for a casual night-in. Melissa happily accepts, eager to be the first lady to spend some time with Ty and at Jason's house. The other girls exchange dark, concerned looks while Stephanie happily chirps that this is "the way it is" and that with kids "you have to be adjustable."

Melissa arrives at Jason's house all decked out in her fancy gear but gets right to work cleaning up after Jason and Ty, dreaming of doing these duties for years. After Melissa changes into her stretchy shorts, Jason invites her to come and stare at his sleeping son. You know, because Jason is not ready for anyone to meet him, but standing there in the doorway and watching him sleep is perfectly fine.

Melissa and Jason get cozy with white wine and sundaes (yum?) and mull over how ready Mel is to be a mom. (She's ready, just in case you were wondering.)

Date With Stephanie, Jillian and Molly: Love is on the Air

The ladies and Jason take a boat tour of Seattle, where they do pass the actual Sleepless in Seattle house, stealing my joke thunder.

As Stephanie gets some alone time with Jason and the Cap'n, she gets put in charge of steering the boat. As Cap'n stands by, Jason and Stephanie hang out together at the wheel and chat about kids. Again.

Afterward, Jason takes the ladies to a radio show. The ladies on the date don't get to hear what he says, but luckily the girls at home got to listen in while panicking over the details. Naturally, the radio show decides to set up a kissing contest that involves a feather boa and lots of kissing while Jason must name each girl who kisses him. "It was soooo easy!" said Jason. "Let's do it again!" The girls at home fall over.

The radio show, in a desperate attempt to make this episode entertaining, decides to push the envelope. What's your thing in the bedroom, ladies? Here's an opportunity for you to answer a question and confirm our stereotypes of your personalities: Molly: Lingerie! Jillian: Fun! Stephanie: Nurturing!

Yikes.

Jason accompanies the girls back to the hotel for dinner and drinks.

Jason takes Jillian aside to find out what's bothering her. Jillian confesses that she originally went on the show for the fun and excitement, but has really fallen for Jason. After Jillian sheds some tears, the two smooth things over with some kisses.

For her one-on-one time, Molly and Jason take a walk through Seattle. Jillian starts falling apart back at the hotel while Stephanie comforts her. Back on their walk, Molly and Jason talk about what Michigan means to her: family and beer pong! Here's a thought, Molly. If you're worried about seeming young to Jason (since you are 24), do not bring up beer pong. Okay? Okay.

One-on-One Date with Naomi

Here I have to air one thought: Naomi really, really needs to lay off the vanilla-white lipgloss. Really. Moving on...

Naomi gets to tour Seattle by air with Jason. ANOTHER air date! How many of these aero-dates must we have, ABC?! Did you get some sort of bulk-package in multiple cities?!

Back at the house, Stephanie puts Sophia on speakerphone and the other ladies pine over her loving mother-daugher relationship. Stephanie also lets her claws out--ever so gently--by sharing with us that she thinks Naomi is such a doll but maybe not quite mature enough for Jason, but really such a nice, sweet girl.

Back on their date, Jason and Naomi go rock-climbing at Dick's Sporting Goods where they share some extreme kisses.

At non-descript fireplace in Aisle 5 of Dick's Sporting Goods, Naomi opens up to Jason about her troubled family history. Jason worries that Naomi's mom's instinct to run flows in Naomi's blood.

Back at the hotel, the ladies crack open some beers and pour a bubble bath. NOW we're speaking my language. This is the best scene in this whole episode. The girls share their insecurities and speculate on the friendship-barrier that Naomi has since--unbeknownst to them--knocked down.

Day of the Rose Ceremony

Jason needs to make sure Jillian is here for him. Obviously, her tears and confessions of feelings the other night meant nothing. So it's quiz time!

Jason pries into Jillian to find out more: "You seem so strong!" Jillian, in tears: "Yes, I always have to be strong."

Jason, while stroking Jillian's hand: "I need to know you want to be here." Jillian, in tears: "I do!"

Jason: "Do you think you'll be open at hometown date?" Jillian, sobbing: "Oh yes! None of the other girls will be there--it'll be great!"

Jason: "Okay, fine. You passed. Let's make out."

Chris Harrison stops by the Mesnick Residence to unwind with Jason. "This hasn't become any easier, bro," Jason tells Chris. "Melissa is totally awesome, totally hot, but there's just something missing."

Stephanie? "She might be one of the most fantastic people I've ever met. She's like the Mother Theresa of reality TV. Everything and everyone she touches is better for it. I am going to have her bless Ty while he's sleeping before I send her packing."

Molly? "The attraction is obviously there because I'm always staring at her in this carnal way and thinking about that lingerie she mentioned on the radio. Oh, and uh, it's cool that she likes family."

Jillian? "She's here for an adventure, but now she is feeling it for me cause, really Chris, who couldn't, right bro? Have you seen my abs?"

Naomi? "Everything with her is easy, and she doesn't have a perfect past, and THAT is hot."

The Most Emotional Rose Ceremony Ever

Jason just cannot make up his mind right now. Naturally, he needs to pull aside Naomi to chat with her and make sure that his lifestyle is HER lifestyle. Of course, it is. They return to the hotel suite where dramatic lighting, fabric swatches and candles have been arranged to heighten the sense of drama. When Naomi and Jason return, Jason reassures the girls: "That's what I needed." And now to name names:

-Jillian: The first rose called, and here I was thinking my girl from Up North would be heading home.

-Melissa: A solid.

-Molly: Did she really think she was going to be sent home? Seriously? The man can hardly hold himself back when she's around.

-Naomi: That time out in the hallway totally settled things up for him, natch.

Since it's time to send home the Mama Ther--err, Stephanie. Jason ups the ante just slightly to remind us what a good person she is: "I want to say this in front of everybody. You are--sniff--the most amazing person I've ever met. And I think we are all better people for having had you here. You're a beautiful person, outside and in. I'm so glad to have met you. Now, can you come by my house real quick and just, like, touch Ty's head before you leave?"

Stephanie, tears shining in her eyes and a smile on her face, holds her head high: "I'm just glad I could be a part of this so that I could reach anybody. I'm so glad that I did. You're an incredible man, and I wish you the best. And sure, I'll be by in like fifteen to twenty."

The ladies cry. Some girls comfort Stephanie. Chris Harrison comforts Jason. Finally, Jason and Stephanie patch things up in the hallway. Really? Out in the hallway again? Could we not afford an extra room so that Jason could drag these girls somewhere else? I'm really feeling bad for anyone who was staying at this hotel during this period of time. Really. I hope they got a refund.

Finally, Stephanie gives the most composed, mature post-booting limo interview ever. Gotta love that woman for being so with it. And yes, so caring.

Next week, Jason visits the ladies for--Ukies in Canada! Country clubs in Michigan! Dead doves in California! and Texas don't want none! Hooray!

EDIT: Thanks to Pom for making me reconsider what number episode this was. It is in fact: 5! The season drags on, ladies and gentlemen.

The World's Most Unwanted Song is the bestest and funniest ever

2009-01-27T16:45:00.002-06:00

You may have seen or heard this by now, but listening to one of the latest episodes of TAL opened my ears to this amazing piece of music.

Based off a poll of over 500 individuals that asked them what their most and least favorite aspects of music are, the staticians passed off the results to musicians who wrote the Most Wanted Song and the Most Unwanted Song. I've linked below to the streaming audio of the Most Unwanted song, which you really must listen to. People apparently hate children's voices, opera, communism, cowboy ballads, holiday tunes and George Stephanopolous. (The last one is understandable.) I've also included the lyrics below (click to expand), which are pretty hilarious. Just as an excerpt, my favorite lines:

"Easter Time! Easter Time!
Love, forgiveness, and the bunnies!
Easter Time! Chocolate Time!
Do all your shopping at Wal-Mart!"

According to the staticians' findings, fewer than 200 people in the world's total population will enjoy this song. Are you among them?

Listen here.

Yo I'm ropin' up my saddle
For the long, long ride
Every time I see the desert
There's something inside says
Yo! Yo! This is the life
Give me open land and a
Big ol' knife to get some
Bear, deer--even a snake
I light me a fire
Do the shake and bake
I say Yo! Yo!
I'm a cowboy now
The sun is hot and dry
Gonna rope me a cow
I say Yo! Yo!
I'm loose and free
Whoa there Nelly
You're the horse for me!

Rope 'em up boys
The desert is a callin'
Yahoo, yahoo, yahoo
Saddle up fellas
The desert is a callin'
Yahoo, yahoo, yahoo

Christmas time! Christmas time!
Jesus, Mary, and the manger
Christmas time, Family time,
Do all your shopping, at Wal-Mart!

Easter Time! Easter Time!
Love, forgiveness, and the bunnies!
Easter Time! Chocolate Time!
Do all your shopping at Wal-Mart!

Out on the plains
Just me and my mind
Took me a break
To read some Wittgenstein
Born in Vienna in '89
He obsessed with theories
Of language and time
Like the "Tractatus"
Where Ludwig would claim
"The logic of our language
Is misunderstood"
Philosophy is based
On a false pretense
So philosophy itself
Is nonsense, nonse!
Philosophy itself is non-sense!

Bedeutung ist tun
Es ist ein Sprachspiel
Nonsense! Nonsense!
WÃ¶rter sind Inhalt
Yahoo! Yahoo!

Yom Kippur! Yom Kippur!
Self reflection and atonement
Yom Kippur, that's what for
Do all your shopping at Wal-Mart!

Oh say can you--
Feel the embers glowing
And the turkey in the oven!
America!
Hear the children singing
There's a turkey in the oven!
Rockets red glare!
Candles are so pretty
And a turkey in the oven!
Do all your shopping at Wal-Mart!
Buy spurs that jingle at Wal-Mart!

Ramadan! Ramadan!
Lots of praying with no breakfast!
Ramadan, so much fun!
Do all your shopping at Wal-Mart!

It's home, home
On the big ol' range
Yipee tai oh
Get along there stranger
Rope 'em, ride 'em
Shoot 'em up good
We're big and bad
In the cowboy 'hood
I say Yo! Yo!
Got a river to ford
With a life like this
I never be bored
I say Yo! Yo!
I'm wild and free
Whoa Miss Kitty
You're the gal for me!

Whoa Miss Kitty
I say whoa there
Whoa Miss Kitty
Yahoo! Yahoo!

Labor Day! Labor Day!
Schools are closed and
Pools are open!
Labor Day! All the way!
Do all your shopping at Wal-Mart!

Oh say can you--
Grandma's on the phone
Go and tell her that you love her!
America!
Daddy's on the phone
Go and tell him that you love him!
The Golden Land!
Sister's on the phone
Go and tell her that you love her!
Do all your shopping at Wal-Mart!

Veteran's Day! Veteran's Day!
Big parade with guns and soldiers
Veteran's Day! What's there to say?
Do all your shopping at Wal-Mart!

Halloween! Halloween!
Candy corn for lunch and dinner!
Halloween, what a scream!
Do all your shopping at Wal-Mart!

Look out there
It's an Injun band!
Coming this way
Gonna fight for my land
And build a home town
Grocery store
American cheese
Worth fighting for
Call it "dry gulch"
O.K. Corral
Holiday Spot
For you and your gal
To get some cool shit
And desert rays
Cowboy living' the American Way
It's a cowboy living
Go! Go!
It's cowboy living
Go! Go!
It's cowboy living
All the way!

Rope 'em up boys!
The desert is a callin'!
Yahoo! Yahoo! Yahoo!

Saddle up fellas!
The desert is a callin'!
Yahoo! Yahoo! Yahoo!

People! Coming together out of a
desire to obtain political power!
Vice Presidential Candidate! Twenty-
seven electoral votes! Central policy
issues! Two party system! Struggle!
Gain control of the government! Executive
branch! Military branch! Foreign affairs!
Influence policy! Promote ideology--
fascism! Promote individual interests--
George Stephanopoulous! Imelda
Marcos! Promote special interests--
Sugar! Beef! Bananas! Lumber! Pork bellies!
Pork barrels! Coca-Cola!
The information superhighway! Three
thousand years of oppression!

Who enslaved humans of color? Who
invaded the Carribbean? Who
murdered all the innocent children?!
You did! You! You! You!

It may be you
It could be me
It's not enough
To wait and see
And when we all
Lock arms and sing
Then bells of freedom
Ring ring ring ring

Live-Blogging The Bachelor: Jason, episode 3

2009-01-27T10:06:00.007-06:00

So I've been busy lately. I'm busy at work and beyond, and this past week I wound up in Las Vegas (much like Jason and Blondie McOrangeSkin) at a convention with lots of burly men and roofing materials. I did watch this past episode, but I couldn't bring myself to blog about it. Between Stephanie's daughter getting hoisted around for hours on end by her wrists and Blondie McOrangeSkin's snit-fit in Las Vegas (see: Trixie), boobs all over the place and Nikki starring in the remake of Two Weeks Notice, girls yelling at one another as Chris Harrison holds the count and Shannon vomiting all over the mansion, the whole 2 hours were such a train wreck that I didn't really know how to handle it. Not at all.

So let's just move onto this week's episode, sponsored by McDonald's, where happier times await.

Chris "I always dress for nighttime, even when I show up at your house in the morning" Harrison shows up, dressed for nighttime at the girls' house.

"Surprise! says Chris. "You have to write and perform an original song dedicated to their man with abs of steel."

Naturally, Nikki furrows her brow and tries to remember how exactly one modulates from a E-minor to an E-major and subsequently breaks down as she chants I HATE SINGING, I HATE SINGING!; Molly considers throwing her tongue back down his throat as a distraction; Stephanie begins to take this task (like so many others) way too seriously; Shannon pulls out her reporter's notebook for inspiration as she looks over what she's gleaned so far from her ten days in the house, every single episode of The Bachelorette and the background check she ran on Jason and his extended family before she arrived in beautiful Los Angeles to meet him in person!; Lauren snaps her gum and says, I've got this.

I just have to add at this point that with Naomi/Eva Mendes, Nikki/Sandra Bullock in Two Weeks Notice, and Molly/Cameron Diaz in this show, I really feel like this is that He's Just Not that Into You Movie and it somehow just accidentally wound up on ABC. Note: He's Not That Into You also a commercial sponsor of this episode, coming to theatres February 6.

When it's time to perform, Molly jumps up, slams her tongue down Jason's throat and mentions fast food in order to gain favors with McDonald's, meanwhile Shannon awkwardly nudges Jason about how she included a shoutout to Ty's godparents in her rap. After some girls dance and sing on the bar, Lauren takes the mic and announces: "My song is SO different from all of yours. I actually wrote a FULL OUT SONG." Who is this girl??

"Lying here all alone
Wondering if I should go home
But when I see your face
It falls in place
And I know...."

Nikki passes out briefly before singing her song.

When it comes time to choose a winner, Jason announces: "Well, Nikki, I liked your effort, and Lauren your song was probably the best but you're kind of a biotch, so at the urging of McDonald's marketing team, I've chosen Molly for her inclusion of the words "fast food" in her song."

Lauren is naturally quite unhappy with this outcome. "Um, I'm not sure if Jason read the rules of this contest before he chose Molly, because Rule #3a clearly stated that Lauren's song is the best and therefore she wins, so I'm not sure where the confusion came from but I'm sure that some ABC producer will smooth out this problem for me, right guys?"

1-on-1 Date with Molly: Let's Stay Home and Just Bone in the Tent--I Mean, Let's Just Hang Out and Stuff

In the nature of the stay-in, relaxed date, Jason drives himself over to the girls' place. The girls drink wine and eat McDonald's as they agonize over what exactly will happen at the bachelor pad this evening.

Oh, wait. Surprise! The lucky couple will be eating McDonald's too, so clearly the ladies shouldn't have too much to worry about. Making out after McDonald's onions is never a good bet. Another detriment due to fast food is the sweaty cheeks that Molly gets from eating burgers.

Fortunately, Molly hoses down and Jason offers her some fresh man-clothes to clean her up. They hang out outside and Molly gives some speech about what she wants her husband to be, and I totally tune out. So does Jason. I can tell because he's just staring at his mouth in this carnal, I'm-not-listening way that creeps me out. Jason offers her the rose and thus begins the camp-out time. We're offered all sorts of sounds caught on the mic that I would rather not hear. Seriously, ABC, you're upping the ante in all sorts of scandy ways. Meanwhile, sadly, back at the house, Shannon frets and stays up waiting for Molly's return.

COMMERCIAL: MCDONALD'S. JUST IN CASE YOU MISSED IT. MCDONALD'S IS INVOLVED IN SPONSORING THIS EPISODE, FOLKS.

Early the next morning, Molly and Jason drive back to the house. Molly happily announces that she's the first bachelorette in history to have a walk of shame. The other ladies seethe.

Group Date "Wanna Play Doctor?" and Wrap Party with the Sadz with Jillian, Lauren, Shannon, Megan, Melissa and Naomi

Later that afternoon, Jason returns to pick up six ladies for the date. As they pull up to a strange looking set, Naomi --the only American left who still watches General Hospital--happily informs the girls that this is the set of her favorite daytime soap playing on ABC every day at 3 pm! Hooray! What?

The ladies and Jason wander through the sets and, oh my gosh!, they happen upon a scene that is being FILMED. Jason informs us that this scene stars Bradford Anderson and Kirsten Storms. Again, what?

And um, surprise, ladies! You'll be starring in your own scene on General Hospital! See, this isn't so bad, right? Molly may still be in her happy morning-after haze this afternoon laying about the mansion, but you lucky ladies get to get caked in stage makeup and wear wigs and get ethnically stereotyped (maid, anyone?) and perform scenes with your hunky bachelor! Exciiiiiittttting. Uh, third time, what?

Shannon, holding knife in interview shot and waving it in front of face: "I have a crush on Jason, and I won't stop at anything to get him." Okay, seriously. The crazy pills, lay off of them.

Kirsten Storms: Okay, we need someone to do a kissing example!
Shannon: ME! I WILL! GET OUT OF MY WAY! I'M HOLDING A KNIFE! (goes in for kill)
Kirsten: Wait! No tongue!
Shannon, after kissing Jason: Weeeee!!!!!!!!! NOW we're CONNECTED FOREVERRRRR!

COMMERIAL: GENERAL HOSPITAL, JUST IN CASE YOU FORGOT THAT IT'S A SHOW ON ABC AND TOTALLY GETTING PROMOTED ON THE ABC SHOW YOU ARE CURRENTLY WATCHING

The whole crew stars "filming" their "scenes." Little Miss I Sing So Perfectly Lauren managed to let Naomi kiss Jason over and over in the three hundred takes it took her to get her lines right. The other girls writhed in pain off-set, and I begin to suspect that Lauren is a finely-placed ABC mole.

Next up was Jillian in a hilarious wig that I would love to wear someday. Their proposal scene ended in another hot kiss. Shannon shoots daggers at Jillian. Probably because she loves that wig as much as I do.

Megan chews off Jason's face in her scene. The other ladies get very angry. The director yells cut several times. I am relatively certain Jason lost part of his cheek. I'd like to take this opportunity to say that it's shocking this girl is 25.

Because starring in dramas during the day is not enough, the ladies go to a "wrap party," where emotions run high and the ladies get very upset.

First up, Naomi, who Jason takes aside to find out how she's doing. Naomi, with tears in her eyes, tells Jason that she is scared. Jason tells Naomi he wants her here with him, but I'm not so sure I believe him.

Meanwhile, Melissa also worries. Megan tells the girls to "man up." I'm enjoying this girl's edge. Megan clearly wanted to get kissed but Jason denies her. I mean, it's pretty obvious what this girl wants, and he straight up ignores her.

Lauren grabs Jason by his man-parts, tells him to ditch the other girls, and draws curtains about them to keep the other ladies out. Not one to pussy-foot around, Lauren jumps right in: Why did you keep Megan?! You LIKE her?
Jason: Yeah, I do.
Lauren: No! Yes! No! Whatever you think! Anyway, you need to give me the rose tonight.
Jason: So, you're entitled?
Lauren: Well, yes. I am. I deserve that rose. I am trying to keep you from some bad girls out there and I wrote this one song that was so great for you. Incidentally, has the producer spoken to you about how I was supposed to have won that competition? Because I was. Because my song was awesome. So yeah, you can make it up to me by giving me that rose tonight.

Jason leaves Lauren talking to herself and goes to pick up Melissa and make sure she doesn't cry in front of the other girls.
Melissa: I've fallen for you.
Jason: I like that. Now shut up and kiss me.
(kissing, kissing, kissing)
Shannon, from stage right: Heeeey guyyyyyyysssss.... So Jason, um... I'd like to talk to you at some poiiiiint, okaaaaay???

Shannon starts off normally enough, expressing how she has felt like she shut off herself from him. But then, unfortunately, she devolves into the crazy talk again. It's really just too much for me. I hide under my laptop. I tuned back in at the point where she said she was picking her nose. Big mistake, because at this point, Shannon went in for the kiss, Jason rejected her kiss and told her she had napkin on her face. This is really too painful. Really. Jason, man, did you REALLY have to add insult to the wound with the napkin comment? This girl is fragile, dude.

Thankfully, the punishment is over when Jason finally gives the rose to Naomi, with a "Thanks for being you," which is sweet if not just a bit weak. Lauren says that she's surprised that somehow there was another mistake in the paperwork. Megan curses again, gosh bless her.

2-on-1 Date with Stephanie and Nikki: Let's Dance the Night Away, right into that limo that's waiting for one of you!

Jason leaves dresses for both the girls. Actually, let's really be honest here. Jason definitely did not leave dresses for the girls. Ten bucks says Jason didn't even know those dresses weren't the girls' own. At any rate, it seems that one of the dresses was not to either of the girls' likings, however, as the greyish dress disappeared and was replaced by a black and charcoal stunner worn by Nikki. While the production assistant runs off to get this new black number, Nikki agonizes over one lock of her hair before she grabs a razor and just shaves it off since she cannot DEAL with unruly hair! Each girl sizes up the other: Nikki thinks that "this is totally up Stephanie's alley," which I don't understand. Stephanie meanwhile thinks that Nikki is just Jason's style, and that concerns her!

The threesome gets started with a ride in the Bentley. Jason worries that Nikki doesn't get outside the box and that there's no romantic connection with Stephanie. For a fun evening that will definitely calm everyone's nerves and make the whole situation sooo much more natural, ABC has hired a ballroom dance instructor. (NOT anyone from Dancing With the Stars, it's worth mentioning. When Carrie Ann Inaba is willing to dish out the dollars, she'll get her shoutout!) Nikki frets about how bad she'll be at dancing, and she is indeed pretty bad but not for lack of trying. Stephanie worries from the wings with her high-browed tight look of concern that borders somewhere between caring mother and evil step-sister. Stephanie is a dancer, so she's fine. Nikki glowers and begins to tear up.

Jason gives us the rundown on these two ladies. Stephanie, on one hand, has a kid, which is a winning trait because what better connection to bring two lovers together, right? And she also has the body of an eighteen-year-old cheerleader, so that's good too. Nikki definitely has a connection with Jason, but her earrings are the size of small birds, so that's kind of distracting. As each lady makes her argument for why she's ready for Jason, the sound of bubbling water from some distant fountain behind Stephanie greatly distracts me and I file yet another complaint with the new audio guy.

Nikki and Jason get some one-on-one time where she finally opens up about her 11-year relationship. Jason seems taken with the NEW Sandra Bullock. This is the Sandra Bullock who starred in Miss Congeniality and really came into her own as a true active comic actress.

Stephanie and Jason spend some one-on-one time where Stephanie speaks in lofty terms yet again, talking circles around Jason. My stomach turns over with the awkwardness.

When it's rose time, Jason gives his obligatory speech: "Stephanie, everyone who crosses your path is lucky to meet you. Nikki, you're as sweet as can be and everyone adores you. But I only have one rose tonight, and it's for Stephanie." Stephanie looks genuinely pained to see Nikki sent home. Nikki and Jason share a tough goodbye, and Nikki says that she's in so much shock she doesn't know how to react. Naturally, she blames her loss on lacking something when in fact her worrying about lacking was what made the missed connection in the first place. Meanwhile, Stephanie and Jason attempt to salvage what remains of their date with a super-awks waltz. With the music raging and the two of them twirling while Nikki holds back tears in her limo, I feel like I'm watching a Russian novel instead of a light-hearted primetime reality show.

Cocktail Party
The ladies, still in their somber mood, talk about how hard this process is. Molly's side ponytail is about as sloppy and dramatic as this episode.

Jillian, who doesn't yet have a rose, gets some alone time finally with Jason and makes an effort not to slip through the cracks. The hens back in the house peck over Jillian and Jason. Megan thinks they're not made for one another, but Stephanie and her blush think that they have some kind of connection.

Melissa and Jason bond too, mainly with Jason dumping her over the couch and gnawing on her lips.

Megan gets some alone time too, which is relieving to her since she feels she does not get any time to connect with him, which I think is true. They reminisce about the time they lost some inner cheek to one another on the set of General Hospital, and then Jason shares with her his newly-acquired waltz skills. This is weird to me--kind of like sharing leftover food from his and Molly's camp out date with the other girls.

Jason knocks out two crazy birds with one stone by sitting between Shannon and Lauren. While Shannon is totally good-natured, Lauren promises Jason a slap across the face. Then the two exchange some weird words and she screams and giggles and then they end up kissing this weird kiss and Lauren off-stage says "We're gonna get married!" I'm so lost.

Rose Ceremony
Chris reminds us all that it's been an emotional week, just in case they (and we) forgot, and two ladies will be going home tonight. Safe for now with their date roses are Molly, Naomi and Stephanie.

Jason recites his weekly pledge of love to the ladies, and then begins naming names:

Melissa (named first just so she'll calm down in the future)
Jillian

And the final rose... a dramatic pause... and... "I'm sorry. I can't do this. I can't give out this final rose. Megan, you are amazing. You give and your view on the world is unbelievable. And Lauren, you're more honest and real than anyone I've ever met. And Shannon, you're just a beautiful person. But I can't lead anybody on, and I just don't see forever, so I can't give out the final rose tonight." (Cue cutaway shot of Molly smiling and nodding.)

Lauren says she respects Jason's decision as she says goodbye, but then complains to us that Jason still didn't play by the rules. There was ANOTHER ROSE left. Doesn't he understand?

Shannon reminds us that she watched every single episode of The Bachelorette at least six times and was Jason's number one fan, but that she didn't get with him. It's okay though because she's gonna go home and French kiss her puppies. What?

Megan says she was really surprised (me too!!) and that she's very hurt. She even says that it's pathetic how much she doesn't want to go home. I'm going to miss this girl's biting honesty.

"Here's to the five most wonderful girls I've ever met," says Jason. "Here's to another wonderful week!"

Oh, hooray! No soap operas next week, thankfully! Instead, Jason takes the ladies to Seattle, Naomi and Jason take to the sky in the third airborne date this season, Mel may or may not have a date, and the ladies get taken through yet another most-dramatic-rose-ceremony-ever. My DVR and I cannot wait!

Free to good home

2009-01-15T21:41:00.004-06:00

Sometimes Craigslist's ads for free things reveal more than the poster maybe intended.

I don't know if you heard...

2009-01-15T12:13:00.004-06:00

...but it's cold here in Chicago. Like, really, really cold. Like, it's all that we're all thinking about cause it's so cold.

How cold, you ask? Well, let's say that for the last twelve hours, it's been below zero without the windchill. The high today is -1 and as of 12:30 PM, it's -5 but feels like -23. Fun!

On the walk to work today (I haven't attempted to move my car from the ice-snow igloo that has formed around it in the last week after we got 15 inches of snow or whatever it is), my eyes kept sticking shut because of the tears forming from the wind and blinking. I may have lost a few eyelashes, but that's only a small casualty.

I know I can't whine too much because there are people who live in places like International Falls and Bismarck. (By the way, why do you people do that? How can you stand it?) They've got it a lot tougher than--

Screw it. I'm going to complain all I want.

(Amazing photo courtesy of the Chicago Tribune, whose current homepage has a ticking clock of how long it's been below zero and a screaming headline: Why DO you live here, anyway?)

The Bachelor: Jason, episode 2

2009-01-12T23:55:00.006-06:00

Let's be honest about Jason. He's kinda like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. (That's right, NOT a hot dog with mustard topping!) Just sort of there, a bit plain, maybe he got a little smushed in the plastic baggie on the ride to school. You know what I mean.

But ABC has made a real effort to pull on our heartstrings (remember evil, evil DeAnna?!) and pull at our lady-indulgences (gratuitous bicep curls and six-pack shots) just to remind us how worthy Jason and The Bachelor are of our viewing time and advertising dollars! Hooray, America! Here we go!

Opening
More Ty shots. Remember how important it was that Ty spend this experience with his dad? Forget all of that. Ty needs to go home so that Dad has the place to hims--I mean, Ty needs to go home and spend some quality time with his mom! Right, kids?

The girls move in. Lots of screaming. (Please, ladies, see point #3a.)
Chris Harrison: So ladies, what do you think of the house??
Ladies: (indistinct nasal-y yet positive waaaaaah sounds)
Chris Harrison: Think it's gonna work out for ya?
Ladies: (Weeee!!!!)

(Here there was a terrible, terrible audio cut again. SERIOUSLY, ABC. WHAT IS THE DEAL?! You NEED to work out these audio issues. If you can fix them in the rest of the episodes, do it. Start now.)

Bad news bears! The ladies won't necessarily get to go on a date every week with Jason!

But it's okay, cause here comes Jason in a tight athletic outfit!

SWIM PARTY!!!!
"Weeeeee!!!!!!!!"

"Um, some of us weren't wearing makeup!" says Kari from Kansas with the cotton candy hairstyle on the top of her head. "We were all REALLY shocked."

Jason does the gentlemanly thing (most likely at some production assistant's prompting) and tells Megan that he actually wants her around, even if the only reason she got a rose is cause the kitties hate her so much.

Insert: Another scene completely centered around Jason's naked torso.

Jillian continues to ride out the hot dog wave as long as she can.

Crazy, crazy Shannon in her sequiny swimsuit corners Jason, reminds him how much she already knows about him, and says she is ABSOLUTELY ready for marriage and kids. How could she be so sure? Because all her girl friends are totally preggers! BFFs get preggers together, ladies. Even if that means you have to go on The Bachelor to find your husband and get started.

Shannon throws ice cubes. Natalie who said she’s from Chicago is now from “the smallest town ever.” WHAT’S THE TRUTH, LADY? The awkwardness was palapable when Stephanie attempted to break in between “little Midwestern girl” from “the smallest town ever” and yet also “from Chicago” Natalie.

The special rose for a romantic date goes to hot dog Jillian. Yawn. Shticks should never get you this far.

Poor little Midwestern Natalie got very upset, but Brazilian Raquel is there to comfort her, which is just so very sweet.

Lauren waxes a la Pam Beasley about how she is SO glad she didn’t get chosen because she would NOT have been ready! She would have had to wear her hair in a PONYTAIL, for gosh sakes!

Date with Jillian
Jillian was, like, so above being at Disney Hall (thanks, Disney/ABC!) because she already, like, knows about architecture, thank you very much.

And so begins our ‘thank youuuuu!’s as the bachelorettes gush over the dates that Jason, or the ABC production assistants or whatever, set up.

But that’s not all, Jillian! A private performance inside the hall! The conductor taps his baton, the strings raise their bows, and CUT TO DISCO MUSIC! This singer who I’ve never heard of before brings the funk and the couple dances the night away before kissing!!

Naturally, Jillian kisses and tells. Melissa pouts about what this special Disney disco night and kiss means for the prospects of her own date with Jason.

Date with Melissa
Melissa joins Jason at a seagull poo-strewn beach.

After taking in the wafts of dung and seaweed, the couple takes oyster shots together.

Then some blimp shows up and tells them to kiss, so they do.

Thankfully, the blimp landed and we have another one of those classic Bachelor dates where the couple cannot hear one another so they have to wear the big clunky headsets. In a stroke of comedic genius, Jason has to give the rose to Melissa while they wear the headset and then they chew each other’s faces off.

It’s at this point that I realize that in addition to our Eva Mendes (Naomi) and Sandra Bullock (Nikki), we also have a really tan Mandy Moore (Melissa)!

Natalie, Erica, Naomi, Nikki, Lauren, Kari, Sharon and Molly Glam Date
The ladies get to go on a shopping spree. Thanks, Jaso—ABC!!!

They go to a hotel that is “so L.A.,” which must mean there’s a lot of traffic and smog in the lobby.

Thankfully, the whole gang puts together a show for the town! More abs shots! Synchronized swimming! Molly’s tongue tricks with kissing!

The “Chicago” girls Natalie and Nikki get out the Windy City claws and take out their frustration on Molly on one another. OMG THEY’RE KISSING! OMG CAN YOU DROP IT! BUT THEY’RE KISSING! DROP IT! KISSING! DROP! (This is generally how most disputes are handled in Chicago, in case anyone from outside the city was wondering. OMG YOU TRIED TO MAKE PEOPLE PAY FOR A SENATE SEAT! OMG CAN YOU DROP IT! BUT THAT’S ILLEGAL! DROP IT! ILLEGAL!)

Also, we discover that 29-year-old Nikki has only kissed one guy since she was 17—her ex-boyfriend of 11 years. You do the math.

Molly gets the big date rose. Again, shticks win.

Raquel sneaks away and jumps in the car to let Jason know just how much she cares. Umm… shticks?

Cocktail Party
Jason enters. (“waahhhyaaaaaahhhhh!!!”)

Erica and Jason one-on-one time: You’re noticed, Erica. Yes, you’re definitely noticed.

Lauren and Jason one-on-one time: Jason tells Lauren that he can sense she’s not comfortable.

Sandra Bullock and Mandy Moore get to know one another, bonding on the couch about what it REALLY means to move to Seattle. Sandra and Mandy toast over it.

Crazy Shannon demands Jason remember her name, then cites the dates and names of people who are important in Jason’s life, then says how CUTE Jason is over and over again! I hide under my couch in fear.

Stephanie shares with the other women her story about losing her husband. The women and the rest of America cry.

As another serious moment, Lisa decides to leave to spend time with her grandmother. Lauren and Shannon celebrate.

Side ponytail Megan gets cut out from one-on-one time by Molly. Megan commiserates with the other ladies about the pain Molly inflicted on her. Erica, who seemingly always has a drink in her hand and is slouching over with her breasts hanging out of her dress, double talks and stabs some people in the back, Megan bites the bait, some ladies cry, and thankfully, life goes on.

Rose Ceremony
Because Lisa left the show, Jason only has to choose two girls to send home, which in my opinion is really too bad. There are at least three girls who I can think of who remain who could really head home.

Staying:
Melissa
Molly
Jillian

Megan (called first so she stops crying already)
Nikki
Lauren
Naomi
Stephanie
Kari
Natalie
Shannon (Oh lordy, seriously? The whole stalker thing isn’t a shtick. It’s SCARY.)
Erica (She seriously put his hand on her out-in-the-wide-open chest. That did happen.)

Sent home:
-Sharon, who gave up her job for this adventure.
-Raquel, who was wearing the most beautiful dress, was apparently punished for getting into the car. I am not sure how I feel about hot dog girl, I'm-a-good-kisser girl and stalker girl getting to stay but not Raquel...

Next week, Stephanie makes me cry some more, Erica and Megan fight some more, and Natalie from Chicago-kind-of goes to Las Vegas with Jason. Ironically enough, I TOO will be in Las Vegas next week, so I will be late in my update. I will be thinking of Natalie and Jason, however, when I hit the slot machines. Actually, I'm going for work and there will be no slot machines involved, but I'll think of them as I wander a convention floor strewn with building products.

Things The Bachelorettes Teach Us So We Don't Have to Learn Them Ourselves

2009-01-12T00:08:00.004-06:00

There's a lot to be learned from The Bachelor. The gutsy 25 ladies who risk their social and professional futures teach many lessons to us viewers. As we lead into episode 2 this evening, these are just a few gems gleaned as the ladies stepped and stumbled their way through episode 1:

DON'T:
1. Say you're from Chicago if you're from places like, say, Blue Island or Morton, Illinois.
2. Make how much your hometown (cough cough! Stockton!) sucks your greeting talking point. ("I'm from Stockton! It's not a nice place! See you later!")
3a. Add to the white noise. For example, don't scream when Jason walks in the room. Similarly, don't talk about how great kids are or how much you REALLY REALLY REALLY want to have kids.
3b. Make sweeping generalizations about who's ready to be a mom if you're spilling your champagne and slurring your words.
4. Be a stalker, then say you're not a stalker--truly! you're not!, but really, you actually are a stalker.
5. Say creepy thing about the potential bachelor's son like how you know his favorite color, the name of his teddy bear, where he sleeps at night, etc. etc.
6. Giggle your way through every single word. ("Tee hee hee! My name is-tee!-Dominique!!! Tee hee hee hee!")
7. Make salsa your "thing" when there's a BRAZILIAN GIRL in the competition. Really.
8. Quit your job to go do The Bachelor.

DO:
1. Stand up straight.
2. Make your name memorable! (Kari from Kansas!)
3. Wear a dress you can walk in.
4. Pretend to know what crazy hot dog girl is talking about and just agree with everything she says. Yeah, I too always go for the mustard guy. I definitely want to settle down with the mustard guy.
5. Look vaguely like a celebrity like Sandra Bullock or Eva Mendez.
6. Lay off the fake tanner.

And finally, a note to ABC: Try to spend just a few extra post-production dollars on the quality of Chris Harrison's V/Os. For example, when he suddenly sounded like he was in a bubble while telling the girls about the trick rose. Just a few extra bucks will do just the trick to take Chris out of that bubble.

Thinkin' on Lincoln

2009-01-05T17:29:00.005-06:00

I've been reading a lot about Lincoln lately. Most recently, I'm reading Andrew Ferguson's Land of Lincoln, which is fantastic. Settling into a chapter about Chicago's relationship with Lincoln, I decided to head over to Lincoln Square and park myself down at Potbelly's (where I can sit alone on a Friday night with a book without feeling like some loser). It seemed apt, given that the Square's statue of the man himself is only about a block away.

As I stood in line, one of the young guys working behind the counter struck up a conversation with me.

"Whatchyou reading there?" he asked me, motioning at the book I'd tucked under my arm. I held it up for him. "What's it say? Land... of..."

"Lincoln," I finished the title.

"So it's about Lincoln?" he asked.

"Well, kind of. It's about how the idea of Lincoln kind of lives with us today," I said, feeling extremely self-conscious and nerdy since a few of the other workers had now started staring at my book and I had really hoped just to go through this whole reading-alone-in-a-sandwich-shop-on-a-Friday-night thing unnoticed. "You know," I continued awkwardly, "cause everybody has an idea about Lincoln...at least what they learned in school or something."

"Not me," he said flatly.

I was floored. "You never think about Lincoln?" I asked him, my jaw probably hitting the counter because Lincoln is about all I've thought about for the last few months.

"No, not really," he said, shrugging.

Another girl working there interrupted him, giving me my total so I could pay quickly and seeming about as interested in our conversation about Lincoln as she was in having to work a Friday night shift.

I handed her my card and turned back to the guy. "So you seriously don't think about Lincoln? Not even like, just about him being president?"

"Nah," he said and then paused. "He was gay, right?"

Ah, yes. The Lincoln Was Gay, Right? theory was a pretty hot topic a few years ago with some historians--like C.A. Tripp who published The Intimate World of Abraham Lincoln--to assert that Lincoln had some homoerotic goings-ons with friends like Joshua Speed, with whom he shared a bed for a few years while they both worked. Other historians and sensitive Lincolnphiles are quick to point out that sharing a bed was a common thing in those days and that Lincoln clearly didn't have any sort of "streaks of lavender" in him, as Carl Sandburg once wrote. Of course, this theory picked up enough speed for kicker packages on the nightly news and has ingrained itself as a staple of the modern perception of Lincoln's life.

I considered the delicacies of modern constructions of history, whether the nightly news does more harm than good sometimes, the context of the gay world in both contemporary and antiquated worlds, and how easily (and quickly) one moment in time can become contorted before we no longer know whether Washington ever chopped down a cherry tree or if Dubya approached Guantanamo with the same noble thoughts of the republic as Lincoln did when he suspended habeas corpus.

But I skipped all that. "Uh, I think he was probably not gay, but I guess we don't know."

I sat down with my sandwich and opened my book back up when the starkest irony of the situation struck me: The young guy had just told me he never thinks about Abraham Lincoln wasn't just a kid working in a neighborhood named after Lincoln: He was a black kid working in a neighborhood named after Lincoln.

It just so happened that the next section of my chapter on Lincoln and Chicago dealt with a Thai immigrant who lives one neighborhood west of Lincoln Square. He and his wife moved to the U.S. in 1973 and opened the third Thai restaurant in Chicago. After seeing Lincoln's image and name repeated endlessly, they investigated the president and discovered that he was a pretty important guy. In their opinion, he is THE most important guy. Their family began annual pilgrimages to visit Lincoln's tomb and have created a small shrine to a Lincoln statue in their restaurant where they offer the mini-Abe a full meal each day.

He's just that important to them--Lincoln made it possible for them to come to this country and to live among their friends and peers equally. In other words, Lincoln gave everybody a chance, whether you want to serve sandwiches or Pad Thai or read your book on a Friday night alone. So maybe it's not so much that we don't ever think about Lincoln (or whatever other great figures past have formed our lives today), it's simply that we sometimes take him for granted. It might just take a huge bronze statue in the Square named after him, a small figurine in a Thai restaurant, or even that nerdy girl who ordered the salami and turkey sandwich on Friday night to remind you of it.

The Holidays Keep Me Busy

2008-12-31T14:49:00.001-06:00

Well, it’s been that kind of holiday season and I’ve been busy doing all sorts of “real life” things that keep me away from my blog, such as:

-making lots of truffles that I could not eat alone

-buying and wrapping and also unwrapping gifts

-watching some opera at the opera (Porgy and Bess at the Lyric)

-watching some ballet on the TV (Nutcracker on PBS)

-breaking a car’s door

-subsequently crawling through the passenger side and over the console in order to drive said car

-driving to and from Ohio

-getting lots of cat hair on my clothing

-attending the somethingth annual G. family Christmas mass held both at the Vatican and on our living room TV

-seeing friends for half-hour periods

-searching in vain for a don pablos

-celebrating my mom’s birthday

-traveling to Kentucky (kind of)

-saving my boss five hundred bucks

-planning a New Year’s Eve party

-subsequently canceling said party due to winning a night to a hotel party downtown and room at said hotel

For now, I’m off to that hotel to check in and hopefully get ready for a fun evening. Happy New Year’s to you all!

Just another day in Chicago

2008-12-16T18:22:00.001-06:00

Where snow and ice immobilize the city, da mayor sings rather than salts or plows, our governor is about to be impeached, rats and rodents make the top of the page, and children are allowed to lick fire hydrants in the suburbs. Yup. Seems about right.

Another Year

2008-12-10T15:16:00.003-06:00

So today is my 24th birthday. (There, I dated myself. I may be younger or older than you thought, who knows.)

What I realized is especially great about your 24th birthday is that there are 24 hours in the day to celebrate turning 24. Of course, I realized this at 12:55 AM last night, so I had kind of a late start and didn't really have any concrete ideas of what to do with my discovery. John and I briefly toyed with the idea that I should take a picture of myself every hour of my 24th birthday, but I wanted to sleep well, so that idea was scrapped.

Instead, I've been thinking each hour about when I turned the age of the hour's number and what stands out most to me about that year in my life. Like at 9 AM I remembered how at age 9, I had my Niner Diner Birthday Party, sock hop and all. At 1 PM, (13:00 military time) I recalled the irony of being in a car accident on my 13th birthday, almost to the exact moment I was born (7:26 CDT, if you're keeping score at home.). I'm about to hit the 4 o'clock hour, which would be age 16. Immediately jumping to mind is the watercolor painting I was given in a park for my birthday, the mono I caught that year and then recovered from (only to be bogged down by scarlet fever a few days later), and the end of an era as 9/11 and other events changed my life forever.

Anyway, it's been an interesting experiment so far--a kind of This is Your Life, Brought to You By Yourself. And hopefully by the end of the night tonight, I'll have a fresh story for the start of age 24. :)

PICTURED: Post-birthday party, age 4, picking up boys and being awesome.

I'm Dreaming of a Long-Haired, Head-Banging, Synth-Fueled Christmas

2008-12-04T13:52:00.003-06:00

How do I know it’s the holidays? Because last night, on local PBS station WTTW’s fantastic phoneathon primetime feature, I had the pleasure of watching a good 20 minutes of The Ghosts of Christmas Eve, starring the Trans-Siberian Orchestra and featuring Jewel. Yes, Jewel. You may remember her incredibly mediocre poetry or perhaps her hands? (They are small, she knows. But they are not yours, they are her own.)

I searched in vain for an embeddable version of the opening scene where a runaway finds refuge in some theatre and some guy who apparently is a ghost makes the Trans-Siberian Orchestra come to life, but alas and alack, I can only link to it. I highly recommend you watch.

Please note: Just because I am linking to the TSO does not mean they have surpassed my deep, undying love for Mannheim Steamroller. See: A Very Merry Fresh Aire Christmas, for proof.

Keeping in Mind

2008-12-03T17:07:00.008-06:00

You know how some memories from your childhood live so vividly in your mind, but with absolutely no context? Like you’re looking through a kaleidoscope with bright shapes, colors and memories bouncing about, surrounded by blackness? Fortunately, we can peer back in whenever we like and relive this moment again and again.

One of the stronger moments I have like that (again, with absolutely no context of year or age, I was maybe six or so) is of running around in my backyard. It was summer, the light fading into sherbet-colored pastels and I was jumping over my mom’s lavender hedge waiting for the fireflies to come out and play.

I had asked someone (my parents, maybe) to come run and chase me. Whoever it was said they would in a minute, but they were a little bit tired. We had just eaten dinner, too. There was time needed, as adults say, to let their dinners settle and relax.

I could not, for the life of me, understand this. The night was especially warm and there was running that absolutely, positively needed to be done. Didn’t they know how important this running was, how fun it was, or how great it felt? I satisfied myself with tearing around the lavender hedge again, totally content. And then I realized that one day I’d grow up too, and I’d be sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in my hand and tell someone like me, “In a minute. I’m a little bit tired. I’ve just eaten dinner. I just need to let my food settle and relax.”

It seems a little contrived and ridiculous that I’d have this revelation while in mid-jump over flowers on a summer evening of my childhood, but that’s how it happened. And I filed the moment away in my memory, somewhere between Bittersweet Moments and Unadulterated Joy.

It’s tough when you’re an adult to have these moments of Unadulterated Joy. You might even argue that the word “UN-ADULTerated” strictly forbids you from them. We’re all too much aware of the world around us to really sink into the bliss of the moment and bask in it. So when they do come along, and we truly enjoy them, they’re even more precious.

Like when over Thanksgiving leftovers, you accidentally teach your 2 ½-year old cousin that hippos make the sound “RAWR,” and she spends a good part of fifteen minutes pressing a tiny plastic hippo against your nose and rawring her little heart out.

Or when for no good reason other exhaustion, the thought of vomiting in front of a quaint Nordic pie shop in Wisconsin makes you giggle so hard that your eyes water from trying to keep from bursting at the seams.

Or even when while rinsing with mouthwash alone in your bathroom, your “vigorous swishing” gets a little too vigorous and you inadvertently squirt peppermint mouthwash out of the corner of your mouth, dowsing your mirror and wall with a hefty portion of the blue liquid and leaving you struggling to control your amusement until you give up and spit the rest out in a blast of side-splitting laughs.

I’ve been lucky to have quite a few of these total joy moments in the last few weeks. They may or may not survive in my memory in a context, and they very well may end up in that bright kaleidoscope where I think, "Remember that time..." But they’re little blessings—unplanned, unexpected and, most of all, unadulterated.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2008-11-25T09:21:00.007-06:00

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I'm off to the northern reaches of Minnesota to visit the family. It's been nearly four years (!) since I was last there, so I'm excited to go back. In celebration, I'm posting some of my favorite pictures from the last time I visited in September 2004. Most of these are from our drives north of Duluth along the shore of Superior. I am guessing it will be way too freezing cold for that to happen and most of our time will be centered around the casino (!) we're staying in, but still. :)Have a great Thanksgiving and avoid the turkey sleepiness.

Writing on the rocks of Sugarloaf Cove, this awesome abandoned log mill site. You can't tell from this picture, but the rocks there are crazy--unlike any of the other rocks along the shore. They're big, smooth, boulder-like and made from seemingly all different natural backgrounds. It's almost like a glacier dumped them there and the cove protected them from getting broken up over the years.

Rock-pickin'! :)

This was the view from my grandparents' cabin up on the Gunflint Trail. Basically, I had this love-hate relationship with that water. I loved it, but in really small doses and without the fish and not while in the canoe either... :)

Quel imagination!

2008-11-17T17:44:00.001-06:00

Oh, my, god. Seriously. I need to find myself a French child somewhere.

Once upon a time... from Capucha on Vimeo.

Now you know

2008-11-17T14:30:00.003-06:00

I am currently writing a blog post for my “real job” that includes a product from Hammacher Schlemmer. So I’m here just posting to say I never really paid attention to the second of those two German surnames. In my mind, it was always Hammacher Schmeh-mumble-mumble. I guess we grow up in all sorts of ways. Posted for your consideration, their Marshmallow Shooter.

Historication: My Bucket List

2008-11-06T18:06:00.014-06:00

When my friends and I get on the topic of family vacations, many of them wax poetic on their trips to the beach or Disneyland. Once it's my turn to chime in, I usually offer up something like, "I had a really good time when the power went out at Martin Van Buren's home in Kinderhook, New York," or, "Have I ever told you the one about how I got kicked out of the Rockefeller home for dropping rocks in the stairwell? GET IT? Rocks? Rockefeller?!" I usually then dissolve into a fit of giggles and my companions probably second-guess their judgment in befriending me.

My family's historically-slanted vacations brought me to more tours of historic homes, battlefields, cemeteries and villages than I could count. From Jamestown to Hyannis Port, I've traveled the east coast and beyond with my family, taking my fill of reenactors, historic markers and velvet-roped house tours.

Maybe to outsiders, my childhood seems a little bit warped. I had a penchant for those fluffy white colonial hats women in Williamsburg wore. (See G. Family albums for photographic evidence.) My American Girl doll Samantha and I wore matching outfits while visiting Biltmore, and my Princess Barbie dream bedroom was Alice Claypoole Gwynne Vanderbilt's oval seafront bedroom at the Breakers estate in Newport, RI. I also distinctly recall deriving serious joy from a hoop and stick in a motel parking lot.

Before my junior year of high school, my family took a trip to Gettysburg and Antietam that lives vividly in my mind today. After junior year, we hit up Emily Dickinson's home in Amherst where I took a photo of myself with a pizza box, which was a nerdy joke between my English teacher Mrs. Powell and I. Two years ago we spent my mom's birthday at the living history Pleasant Hill Shaker Village where some of the old Shaker family dwellings have been converted into individual hotel suites (with, I might add, the best TempurPedic cushy beds you'll ever sleep on).

I loved these vacations, even the ones where we spent significant time in the icy March Midwestern winds visiting ancestral grave sites. Maybe it’s the fall air or the political mood I’ve been in lately (you may have noticed that I’ve had politics and history on the brain), but I haven’t been able to stop considering all the little history vacation hot stops I’d love to make if I could get away right now. For your consideration, I’ve compiled a few below. Anywhere else I should keep in mind for future nerdy getaways?

The Mount: Edith Wharton’s Estate
I may or may not be a huge fan of The Age of Innocence. We’ll let that lie and just say that I’d love to visit Wharton’s home where she did a lot her writing. Even better is the fact she designed the home herself. How awesome is that? The Mount is facing foreclosure, however, so I hope that this spot makes it through these hard times. [http://www.edithwharton.org/]

Biltmore
Like I said, I’ve already visited the Biltmore estate while wearing this dress, but whatever. I wanna go again. This time, maybe without wearing that dress. This place is freaking awesome, and it was just a SUMMER HOME. A 175,000 sq. ft., 255-room SUMMER HOME with grounds designed by Frederick Law Olmsted. No biggie.[http://www.biltmore.com/]

Abraham Lincoln Presidential

Library and Museum
It is a travesty I live in Lincoln’s state and have not visited the Lincoln Museum in Springfield. This trip is on my short list because I think I should be able to make it down in a day. Of course, if I do go, I am absolutely positively visiting the Lincoln home and tomb. I will probably cry while I’m there cause that’s what I’ve been doing lately whenever anyone brings Lincoln up to me. (I’m talking to you, Obama!)
[http://www.alplm.org/home.html]

Hearst Castle
I have only been to California once, but if I can make it out there again and be anywhere near San Simeon, I’m going to Hearst Castle. One of my friends told me it’s like being in a haunted, abandoned, lonely place, and I think that sounds fantastic. I can also fantasize about Cary Grant swimming in the pool here. [http://www.hearstcastle.org/]

National Archives
Heaven is a place on earth, and it’s here in Washington, D.C. I really can’t explain it, but this place has been on my mind a lot lately. I’m itching to get back there and just soak in as much smelly, moldy paper as possible. [http://www.archives.org]

I was there when we made history

2008-11-05T14:31:00.004-06:00

I was lucky enough to receive tickets to go to Obama’s Election Night rally in Grant Park last night. The experience for me was surreal and overwhelmingly emotional. I felt lucky—not just to be at the front lines of this historic moment but also to be a part of a country like ours.

I spent the first part of the rally ecstatic, pumping my fist against my chest whenever Ohio’s results were pulled up on the Jumbotron and screaming, “THAT’S MY STATE!!” When CNN finally project Ohio for Obama, though, I felt quieter, calmer. It was as if I finally was allowing myself to believe that this could happen. I had made calls to my hometown in hopes to help Obama win, and while I got hung up on and sneered at a few times, I also talked with undecided voters who were truly concerned about our country and who seemed to lean Democratic by the time we finished talking, with Republicans who were voting for both a black man and a Democrat for the first time in their lives, and with other Democrats who were making calls themselves and who had voted in the early Ohio voting.

Here it was, Ohio’s electoral votes going to Obama, and I felt the pulse of the crowd against me and the rush of screams around me but I was floating outside of myself, completely peaceful.

By the time Obama’s rally was pumping celebratory music and playing a video montage that played on the emotions of a proud American, I was—like everybody else it seems—in tears. I replayed in my mind the last eight years of my life and all that has changed and imagined what changes will happen for me now—hopefully, for better this time.

But it was Obama’s speech, the full text of which is available here, which most resonated with me. In the last few months, I’ve been reading up a lot lately on Lincoln and feeling some strong emotions about our sixteenth president, so when Obama said the following, he truly touched me:

Let us resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long. Let us remember that it was a man from this state who first carried the banner of the Republican Party to the White House -- a party founded on the values of self-reliance, individual liberty, and national unity. Those are values we all share, and while the Democratic Party has won a great victory tonight, we do so with a measure of humility and determination to heal the divides that have held back our progress. As Lincoln said to a nation far more divided than ours, "We are not enemies, but friends…though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection." And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn -- I may not have won your vote, but I hear your voices, I need your help, and I will be your President too.

Coming from such a conservative area, I know full well that there will be people who will never accept Barack Obama. That’s fine. But the important thing is that for those of us who believe in him, and those who might come to believe in him too, Obama represents a true shift away from that petty partisanship and negativity that has so sharply pitched liberal against conservative in the last eight years.

It would be disingenous of me if I didn’t mention that I wasn’t always such an Obama supporter, as evidenced even by this blog. But as the other candidates fell away and Obama’s policies took stronger form, I became one of his believers. Standing and cheering among his other supporters last night, I could begin to imagine a better America where our rights and freedoms are not stripped from us and we are given the freedom and benefits we deserve. I am so proud and just wanted to share.

Halloween Update

2008-11-03T14:10:00.006-06:00

When the Pygmalion Sarah Palin was unveiled back in August, I was still back in Denver, glowing happily from the Democratic National Convention. I couldn’t help but notice Palin’s side-swept brunette bangs and rimless eyeglasses, both of which I wear or own, and felt the call to Halloween action.

Of course, the Dressing Up as Sarah Palin for Halloween Express was bound to be one big trainwreck with just about everybody from Tickety-Tack Trannies to Joe Six Packs donning their own Palin get-ups for the evening.

So I decided to try something different, and this is what I came up with: Sarah Palin’s Forbidden Romance / Mr. Moose Whisks Sarah Palin Away. It involved a whole crapload of brown fleece, several trips to Jo-Ann Fabrics and at least one tantrum that involved foam and PVC pipe which we will not get into now.

Not exactly easy to maneuver in, but I had a fun time throughout the evening hanging out with friends at a few parties, taking photos with other bar-goers, and defending myself from crazy, crazy people who hate Sarah Palin so much they were willing to attack her Halloween doppelganger while screaming “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU.” To each is own, I guess.

Also see below for my #1 Halloween companion, Wall Street. :)

Scary Female Voldemort With Fluffy Bow in Hair For Ohio's 2nd Congressional District?

2008-10-30T17:12:00.006-05:00

Okay, prepare yourself for a Harry Potter reference. Remember how Voldemort becomes less and less human in his evil attempts at immortality? This, I’m pretty sure, is why Jean Schmidt looks the way she does.

I suppose that after you violate basic Congressional rules by calling Marine veteran and congressman John Murtha a “coward” on your first day in Congress, lie about gifts received from lobbyists, falsify your college education, tell voters you’ve been endorsed by politicians and organizations that haven’t endorsed you, plagiarize guest columns... TWICE, admit you weren’t aware of the financial crisis ‘until a few weeks ago’ and then air ridiculous commercials about the “success we’ve enjoyed” due to your leadership, and finally, wage a three-month assault on the fictitious Chinese drilling off the American coast that you've apparently imagined and then blame everyone (Republican John Boehner, democrats, then the media) for your lies, it becomes easier and easier to let yourself sour with age, baseless vitriolic attacks and senseless politics.

Of course, like the Cincinnati Enquirer reported back in 1984, this wonderful woman was calling young Republicans “young Hitlers” and booing Elizabeth Dole at the Republican National Convention, so I guess maybe she’s been this stupid all along.

Anyway, I proudly checked my ballot box for Victoria Wulsin. It’s hard to imagine that anyone continues to elect Schmidt into office, and I assume that those who do so just don’t realize how this woman is seriously embarrassing our district. I would beg Republicans and Independents who don’t know the issues at hand in the 2nd Congressional District of Ohio either do some research on the atrocious behavior of this woman or just skip voting for their representative altogether.

On a personal note, I might not be so angered were it not for the fact that I personally visited Schmidt’s office in Washington, D.C. back in 2006 to request her support in Congress to end genocide in Darfur. Upon arriving and waiting for quite a long time, I was handed off to an aide, not much older than me, who condescendingly suggested that it was so wonderful I was attempting to be so involved in politics, deflected my serious questions, questioned my own knowledge and then (!) tried to connect with me about my hometown by naming streets in it.

Totally insulting, but exactly what I would expect from Jean Schmidt’s office.

Adorable Politics

2008-10-29T16:17:00.000-05:00

You may have seen this before now, but it's just so cute I had to post it. These students at the Ron Clark Academy have been studying politics this year with mock debates and, well, raps apparently. Some parts are a little tough to understand so they lyrics are posted below.

Obama on the left
McCain on the right
We can talk politics all night
And you can vote however you like…

(McCain supporters)
McCain’s the best candidate
With Palin as his running mate
They’ll fight for gun rights, pro life,
The conservative right
Our future is bright
Better economy in site
And all the world will feel our military might

I want Obama
FORGET OBAMA,
Stick wit McCain you gone have some drama
MORE WAR IN IRAQ
Iran he will attack
CAN’T BRING OUR TROOPS BACK
We gotta vote Barack!

(Obama supporters)
But McCain and Bush are real close right
They vote alike and keep it tight
Obama’s new, he’s younger too
The Middle Class he will help you
He’ll bring a change, he’s got the brains
McCain and Bush are just the same
You are to blame, Iraq’s a shame
Four more years would be insane

Lower your Taxes - you know Obama Won’t
PROTECT THE LOWER CLASS - You know McCain won’t!
Have enough experience - you know that they don’t
STOP GLOBAL WARMING - you know that you won’t

I want Obama
FORGET OBAMA
Stick with McCain and you’re going to have some drama
We need it
HE’LL BRING IT
He’ll be it
YOU’LL SEE IT
We’ll do it
GET TO IT
Let’s move it
DO IT!

I’m talking big pipe lines, and low gas prices
Below $2.00 that would be nice

But to do it right we gotta start today
Finding renewable ways that are here to stay

Democratic left
Republican right
November 4th we decide
And you can vote however you like, I said
You can vote however you like, yeah

Signs That This Election (Coupled With My Own Independent Historical Research) Has Mentally and Emotionally Exhausted Me

2008-10-28T15:14:00.002-05:00

Last night I dreamt that Teddy Roosevelt, angry with me for apparently defaming the Republican party, was stalking about outside my house equipped with two black bears and one angry blonde mountain lion. What does it all meeeaaaan???

What I Did With My Friday Evening.

2008-10-27T17:09:00.002-05:00

In defense of elementary school children everywhere...

2008-10-23T23:15:00.004-05:00

I'm sure by now you may have seen the video where Sarah Palin answers an eight-year-old boy's question about what a vice president does. Palin does her best concerned look with knit brow and maternal smile, explaining that the veep "runs" the Senate and can "really get in there" to affect policy. The McCain camp has defended Palin, pointing out that she was explaining complicated civic issues to an eight-year-old. For the video of Chris Matthews putting a McCain spokeswoman Nancy Pfotenhauer through the ringer on this issue and Nancy jumping and bending backwards to defend her veep candidate, see below.

So who should be angry here, other than Chris Matthews? John McCain--because his running mate has a tough time stringing sentences together and has gotten mixed up before about what the vice president does? The American people--because it's insulting that a national political party would choose a vice presidential candidate not for her qualifications but for her yoobetchya charm as a last-minute effort to revive a floundering campaign? Dan Quayle—because he sees his great legacy of vice presidential flubbery challenged by this Alaskan maverick?

Nope. In fact, those who should be most angered are probably busy right now, playing tag at recess or practicing long division. Or perhaps they are learning Civics, and their teacher is having to waste lesson time reteaching what Sarah Palin got wrong about the duties of the vice president. It's the children of America who should be angry.

As I listened to Nancy Pfotenhauer argue over and over again that Palin's response should be taken in the context as an answer for a schoolchild, I was furious and wanted Chris Matthews to point out the obvious—that a second-grader could handle simple civics and grasp that the vice president doesn't run the Senate but instead serves as a tie-breaker when the Senate can't make up its mind; or the fact that if we all followed Palin's example, we'd oversimplify things so much for schoolchildren that they'd never gain a basic understanding of how our country runs or much else for that matter.

There are enough fairy tales in public education already. When in some history lesson Christopher Columbus was outted as the rapist and pillager he was, it was a little bit like losing Santa Claus. I thought back to my first lessons in Kindergarten, where in the week leading up to Columbus Day we read picture books about this international hero who brought gifts to America and back to Europe, who befriended the Native Americans and who looked dashingly handsome in the watercolor version of the story. With the truth exposed years later in another school room, I sighed and filed Columbus away in my "Believed That Once, But Never Again" mental dossier. To join him later would be Thomas Jefferson's indiscretions, Abraham Lincoln's theories on colonization, Japanese internment camps and John Edwards's fidelity, just to name a few.

I'm not advocating for a first grade lesson plan in smallbox blankets, but I also think that if we can tell children the truth and not insult their intelligence, we should do so. No vice presidential candidate who claims to be so dedicated to education should go in front of a nation and tell a child an oversimplified truth about American civics. So instead of condemning Palin for telling American children distortions, I will give her the benefit of the doubt that she didn't understand the issue herself.

Things Currently Occupying My Brain, Preventing Me From Blogging

2008-10-10T11:04:00.004-05:00

Before you go see another quirky generational movie about being...

2008-10-03T17:27:00.019-05:00

Tonight, college kids will pay their student ticket prices and pile into movie theatres across the country to see a movie that undoubtedly will speak to them, Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist.

I know because I was there in their shoes on this very night five years ago, paying $8.50 for a 10 o’clock showing of my generation’s movie, Lost in Translation.

I had landed as a freshman at Northwestern University only two weeks before opening night and I felt, as most college kids feel, like I had finally arrived. This was where I was meant to be—living in my totally awesome dorm with the coolest kids in a great-but-I’ll-knock-it-anyway college town, where I could finally eat fresh sushi and drink sake while musing about politics with other young liberals (hallelujah!) who shared both my opinion that God does not hate me for my lefty persuasions as well as my use of unnecessary superlatives like the aforementioned 'coolest' and 'totally awesome.'

But college also has this way of setting off a self-referential inner-monologue that you can’t shake. Walking through a gorgeous campus with your iPod soundtrack while leaves crackle underfoot doesn’t exactly help to curb your deluded sense of grandeur either. So you walk from class to class, high off Rousseau and that cute guy from Econ who was most definitely at least a sophomore, and you ponder your depth and your Friday night plans because that sophomore-dude is most definitely going to the party in Allison Hall.

It was in this mindset that I found myself on October 3, 2003, huddled around California rolls with new friends and waiting for our showing of Lost in Translation. I had broken up with my high school boyfriend the night before and was really looking for some solid ground, something I could identify with and find strength in. That turned out, I would discover at about 10:45 PM, to be Scarlett Johansson’s underwear.

Who was this girl who--while deeply pondering her life (like me! twinsies!)--wore headphones, stared aimlessly at citi-scapes and bounced around on a bed in Tokyo in her underwear? How cool was that? I made a mental note to find grandma panties like Scarlett’s and figure out how to make them so sexy. Underwear aside, I wasn’t in Tokyo, I wasn’t going to Yale and I was not planning on majoring in philosophy like Scarlett’s character, but her brooding self-examination spoke to me. It resonated with my inner-being, and this was my movie.

Actually, it was our movie, all of us. If you weren't on mine and Scarlett's side of the equation: What will I do with my life?, then you were on Bill Murray's: What have I done with my life? Many of us bought the soundtrack, some of us bought grandma panties (not nearly as sexy as hoped), and all of us talked feverishly about what had he said to her?? That whisper! It defined us all!

But then, four years later, we finally found out what he whispered: “I have to be leaving, but I won’t let that come between us, okay?”

And that was it.

After defining ourselves by our imaginings in that veiled mysterious whisper, relishing in the indelible innocence of their impossible, fleeting relationship, and coveting the quirkiness of Japanese culture and (by God!) karaoke parties, that was it.

Sure, I was let down in other ways, like Scarlett Johansson’s creepy, Pygmalionesque post on Woody Allen’s arm and Bill Murray’s disastrous divorce and the way the soundtrack kind of got old by the next summer. But this revelation was the final straw in severing me from the movie that I thought had defined me.

So a word of warning to you 18-year-olds or other self-seekers who might line up in the coming hours for this Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist movie and hope to find yourselves in the characters' doomed innocence or eccentric, impossibly cute behavior: Don’t hang your hopes on underwear or soundtracks and record the playlist yourself.

A Midwestern Girl Visits the Mountains

2008-09-26T15:19:00.009-05:00

I've been back from Colorado for three weeks now and have yet to write anything about my trip—probably because I feel I can do no justice to how great my time there was in a little blog entry. I'll try, however, because it would be stupid not to elaborate just a bit on how much I love mountains and hate lightning.

DENVER
It just so happens that John and I scheduled this trip to Denver during the Democratic National Convention without realizing it. We're clearly such good, devoted Democrats. Truth is that I worried—dare I say, I even fretted—about what the Convention would be like in town. Too crazy, too busy, altogether just too much. I was wrong. In short, having the DNC in town was awesome.

Not only did I relish in the crowd fervor outside the outdoor MSNBCrazy studios (where I proudly booed Pat Buchanan and was greeted by Keith Olbermann as he turned and raised his arms, channeling a bit of Mark Antony acknowledging his friends, Romans, countrymen), I also saw Hillary's motorcade going to and from her speech, and more importantly, I saw Spock Donaldson. But true kudos should go to John's mom, "a remarkably put-together Denver native," who was immortalized as such in The New York Times Caucus blog by David Carr. I feel quite strongly that she should put that tagline on some business cards.

Aside from the DNC, I also got a more normal tour of the city and J's place in it growing up, which was sweet and nice. I will forever envy his high school.

We also checked out some great Denver spots, including the Tattered Cover book store, where I bought The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood, and The Old Map Gallery. I had ordered a children's illustrated map of Colorado from TOMP for John's Christmas gift this year, so it was really fun to actually go in and talk with the owners and check out their stuff. One of the owners showed us an original Chicago Gangland map that still came with its book of research by U of Chicago student Frederic Thrasher.

John and I also took a "mountain daytrip" to Winter Park for a picnic lunch, Grand Lake to go canoeing and through Rocky Mountain National Park along Trail Ridge Road—probably one of the most gorgeous things I've ever seen with lots of wildlife along the way. On our way back down to Denver, we stopped in Boulder, grabbing a drink at the Lazy Dog Café to watch Obama's acceptance speech and then a bite to eat at Illegal Pete's (the anti-Chipotle).

WESTCLIFFE
After a couple days in Denver, we packed up and headed southwest to Westcliffe, where J's family has a cabin tucked into the shady bottom of the Sangre de Cristo mountains. The first afternoon was pretty tame—we toured the town and ate a take-out pizza at home.

The next day was designated Hike Day, which meant getting up early, loading up on blueberry pancakes, packing up the backpacks/fannypacks and getting on our way. We headed to the trailhead for Lake of the Clouds, a trail on which John and his friends infamously got lost four years ago. The hike was gorgeous, not too difficult, and well worth the pay-off at the top where three different mountain lakes nestle against a simultaneously rocky and lush backdrop.

On our way down, we made a bit of a wrong turn, putting ourselves a mile out of our way before we got turned around. Needless to say, we lost a good hour on that diversion and were in a hurry to get off the mountain before afternoon storms settled in. (Note writer's use of foreshadowing.)

The sky was still clear with only one dark cloud above us as we worked our way down past the river and toward the final descent. We chit-chatted and picked our way down the rocky path when suddenly the largest crash of light and sound I've ever experienced crashed above us. Literally. Just above us. Ducking, my spine tingled as the air was charged around us, and for a moment, my mind raced: I had been struck by lightning but was alive—now what?

More specifically, I suddenly remembered an episode of Oprah I saw as a child where lightning survivors were interviewed. Their stories were horrific with people crawling home on all fours of rolling up shirt sleeves to reveal burn marks. Was I going to be on Oprah?

The moment passed, fortunately, and I realized I was okay, as was John.

What do we do? he said.

Run!

And that's what we did. For nearly 15 minutes, we ran down the mountainside, rolling our ankles with every other step, charged with an adrenaline rush only attributable to fear of loss of life. It was heavy on the "flight" part of fight or flight.

As we tore out of the forest and into the parking lot, we were greeted by a bunch of haggard-looking men, a couple young moms and a nun decked out in full habit.

"Run all the way from the lakes?" drawled one older worn-looking cowboy who leaned casually against the back of his pick-up truck like some kind of country icon.

I defended ourselves breathlessly while the group around us laughed, which I suppose I can understand now but at the time was terribly offensive.

The good news was that a beautiful double rainbow emerged as the storm began to roll into the valley. Rain poured between the mountain ranges while the sun fought through the clouds. It was gorgeous.

That night, John and I enjoyed his parents' back deck and watched the stars, the Milky Way a blurry smudge of glitter glued against the sky.

Yet as I lay on the deck and John leaned back in a chair, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was a mountain lion crouching in the woods surrounding us, waiting for me to shut my eyes before bounding onto the deck, pouncing on top of me and stuffing my head in its mouth. My heart beat loudly, but I kept quiet, assuming that John would laugh at my Midwestern notions of wildcats eating brunettes. As it turned out, the next day when I finally confessed my fears to him, he had been imagining the same image of his girlfriend's skull shattering against the teeth of a mountain lion. Clearly, there was an actual cat in the woods telepathically warning us that we better not get too comfortable...

ASPEN
Let me first say I didn't sleep well my last night in Westcliffe. With images of lightning, mountain lions ripping off skulls and bears breaking through windows dancing through my head, it was all in all a tough night. It would be fine, I thought as we packed up the Rodeo for Aspen, I'd sleep on the way there.

What I didn't expect was that it would be near impossible to sleep as the Rodeo climbed upwards of 12,000 feet along a winding mountain pass--Independence Pass--that narrowed to one-lane around blind curves. I white-knuckled it the whole way, glancing occasionally down at sheer drop-offs with no guard rails, praying to God once more that my life be spared a second day in a row.

We arrived in Aspen safely and decided to go straight to lunch, ending up at Little Annie's, where I inhaled half a cheeseburger and immediately threw up. Were the idea of throwing up in a cramped, dirty restaurant bathroom not bad enough, to my total mortification, two girls from John's high school had glided into the restaurant just moments before I became overwhelmed with sickness. As I stood in the bathroom stall, I imagined these two attractive girls wandering in just as I would wretch and they would spy my yellow sneakers so that then, later, when John would introduce me to them, they'd see those yellow shoes and know that I was that disgusting girl throwing up in a public restroom and I would be humiliated forever and ever.

(I should mention that this humiliating imagining might have been inspired by the time that John and I loaded up on rum and face paint, dressed up like pirates for a Sunday evening showing of Pirates of the Caribbean 3 several weeks after it had opened and just happened to run into one of his ex-girlfriend's good gal pals at the Evanston movie theatre where she just happened to be stopping by while on a cross-country road trip. I'm a little scarred.)

I spent the rest of the afternoon sick in the gilded marble bathroom of our hotel, The St. Regis at Aspen, and gingerly sipping sparkling water while curled up on the leather couch in the hotel lounge while waiting for our room. And for the record, I know I joked about elevation sickness. and clearly the mountain gods were not happy with my flippancy. I repent and pray never to fall victim to my hubris again.

Once I felt better, the rest of our time in Aspen was great. The town was ridiculous, chock full of people-watching as the idle rich wandered from boutique to boutique, decked out in more bling than I keep in my jewelry box. Our hotel was the schmanciest hotels I've ever stayed in and we made full use of all the free amenities. The bed, I should mention, was so comfortable that I actually dreamt that night of telling people how great the bed was.

DENVER AGAIN
We people-watched more in Aspen the next morning before taking off for Denver once more. The drive was a bit tough as we had to go over that vertigo-y pass again, got stuck in traffic west of Denver and saw absolutely NO big horned sheep. (Disappointment!)

We ate some delicious chicken kiev at John's house with his parents and his brother's family. We read our books from The Tattered Cover and then went to a neighborhood pub to meet John's friend. We made our final stop that night at Viva Burrito, fondly known as "Viva" and a favorite of John's, to truly complete my Denver experience. There's really nothing quite like eating a $2 burrito while sitting on the hood of a Rodeo parked in a Mexican joint parking lot.
's voice announced that we would be leaving a city where the sun shines for 300 days a y
Our last day we toured the art museum with J's mom, who is a docent there, and ate lunch at the museum restaurant with J's parents. When his family dropped us off for our flight, we said our goodbyes and made our way into the airport where Denver's Mayor Hickenlooper.

Oh, thanks, Mayor Hickenlooper, but what about the lightning??

It's never much fun to come back from a vacation and slide uncomfortably back into your routine. But inevitably, the saving grace for taking return flights is always how pride creeps up on you as you fly toward home. With all the families taking vacations to the Windy City and all the business suits flying in for work, you can't help but feel proud--as they gasp at the skyscrapers or point at the beautiful blue expanse of Lake Michigan--that this city is yours, and you are at least a little happy to be home.

WARNING!

2008-09-23T15:33:00.002-05:00

Do NOT idly search baby kittens on Petfinder, or you end up with something like this and then you get all teary-eyed from the cuteness and have a hard time explaining to your coworkers why you’re getting all weepy in the middle of the afternoon.

My Secret Love of Organization

2008-09-16T12:34:00.002-05:00

If you saw my home office right now you would not believe me, but I love organization. There’s such a great feeling of when everything just fits into place. I’m not about that uber-minimal, contemporary approach to organization with the Tokyo pop couches made of foam and low profile furniture with no drawers. No, no, no. But I do love finding my own system to put everything in its right place, and walking into a Container Store is a euphoric experience.

Since moving into the new apartment, I’ve had to rediscover an organization system. I’m still working it out, for sure, but I lined my shelves and drawers with wallpaper from a $1 book of samples and I’ve started seriously looking at my closet. I’ve already dumped a lot of shoes. I’m making modest but valuable progress.

The Times has a great article online about organization and the trend of Professional Organizers. I’m not about to pay $100/hour to have someone sort out my life for me, but some of the tips in the article are helpful and interesting:

• Store shoes toe-heel to save room.

• Get rid of mirrors in the bedroom for good luck. (This one is NOT for me. I need to see what I look like before I so much as step into the hallway. Plus I like reflecting natural light off the mirrors in my room.)

• Use attractive wastebaskets to store wrapping paper.

• Put all the extra cords and crap from electronic items in plastic baggies, then store the baggies in a bin. That way, you’ll never lose those cords you most likely will need just when you don’t know where they are.

What about you—any organization tips to share for this disorganized apartment girl?

Blowing off steam

2008-09-15T14:01:00.006-05:00

Okay, I promise not to complain too much about Sarah Palin or the election here. I believe that most people have their political minds made up and I don't want to waste my energy or alienate friends/family/readers/passers-bys with my white-hot anger with the dirt-flinging and outright lying the McCain/Palin campaign has passed off in the last two weeks.

That said, I do have these things to share with you right now, and then I'll keep my seething to a minimum:

A New York Times investigation of Palin's track record in Alaska--one of total lack of transparency and absolute vindictiveness, back-stabbiness and lies. It's 5 pages worth reading.

Alaska's biggest-ever political rally happened this weekend when Sarah Palin returned home. It was the "Alaska Women Reject Palin" rally, and it garnered bigger crowds than Palin's welcome home rally.

Not reporting here, but the Times board's editorial following Palin's only interview with ABC's Charlie Gibson: "It was bad enough that Ms. Palin’s performance in the first televised interviews she has done since she joined the Republican ticket was so visibly scripted and lacking in awareness. What made it so much worse is the strategy for which the Republicans have made Ms. Palin the frontwoman: win the White House not on ideas, but by denigrating experience, judgment and qualifications."

Finally, the Tina Fey/Sarah Palin, Amy Poehler/Hillary Clinton video that you've undoubtedly seen by now and that I could watch over and over.

Is this what Hollywood thinks of us editors?

2008-09-12T12:50:00.005-05:00

Can anyone explain to me why Annette Benning's character in The Women (a high profile magazine editor) looks like the frumpier, but probably nicer, doppelganger of Wilhelmina Slater from Ugly Betty (a high profile magazine editor)?

Beluga whale haters, go home!

2008-09-05T14:05:00.002-05:00

Who on earth could ever hate this sweet little beluga whale? Well, there’s at least one woman: the White Witc—I mean, Sarah Palin.

Let it be known I had to pass by some horrible Google images of harpooned whales in order to get this image. While I searched, my eyes welled up with tears while Sarah Palin laughed callously and used my tears to wash down the baby beluga sauteed in Alaskan oil that she ate for breakfast this morning.

Read more truth about Sarah Palin here and here.

Hurricane Gustav Relief

2008-09-04T12:23:00.002-05:00

After getting all angry watching Sarah Palin last night, I soothed myself by watching this video from Tuesday's Daily Show. Jon Stewart and his team made it all better. [or watch it here]

On Vacation

2008-08-26T10:49:00.002-05:00

I'm leaving for Denver in five-ish hours. Ever been? Have some suggestions of what a girl who likes to be a local should do?

On the docket as of now is visiting with John's family and seeing his home, canoing, hiking, eating at the original Chipotle, picking up convention swag and then and avoiding the convention craziness as best I can.

Maybe I'll dine with Barack...

Anyway, I will hopefully be back soon with some pictures to prove that I was in the mountains!! Elevation sickness, here I come!

PICTURED: My mom, second from left, and her sibs, ready for their own family vacation.

Thought this was nice.

2008-08-25T18:56:00.001-05:00

[BigHappyFunhouse]

It's Michael Phelps!

2008-08-20T12:04:00.002-05:00

So much better than Mary Carillo's Slice of Chinese Life pieces and further proof that tall nerdy white guys all look alike.

The future of the news as we know it?

2008-08-18T16:07:00.003-05:00

Sometimes I wonder if the AP makes this stuff up. Ol’ McDonald reports that cow named Apple chases bear away from favorite apple tree? Really?

HYGIENE, Colo. (AP) -- Residents of a rural Colorado town say a cow named Apple chased off a bear that had climbed into her favorite apple tree. Jack McDonald of Hygiene, about 30 miles northwest of Denver, said the bear had climbed out of the tree when the cow approached it Sunday afternoon.
McDonald says the animals touched noses and hung out together for a bit before Apple chased the bear off.
''It was hilarious,'' McDonald says.
There's no sign that either animal was hurt.
Apple belongs to McDonald's landlady, Nancy Dayton, who has a house and three rental units on 14 acres.
Dayton says Apple weighs about 1,200 pounds and is more pet than livestock. She got her name because she loves to eat apples from the tree the bear had invaded.

2008-08-15T17:11:00.002-05:00

I'm sorry.

When I posted an uplifting video, I SHOULD have posted the trailer for HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL 3: SENIOR YEAR. While I admit I’m excited for this movie (cough cough *motion picture EVENT*), I preferred keeping my perverted too-old-for-this-kind-of-stuff enjoyment inside my living room. I guess it’s gonna be me and all the tweens squealing for Zanessa, after all.

Also this:

Chicago 2016 to the rescue!!

2008-08-15T16:38:00.001-05:00

Things are way too heavy and political here on my blog. Let's lighten things up with this promo for Chicago 2016 that brings a tear to my eye!

What does 10 pounds of guilt really look like?

2008-08-11T15:19:00.005-05:00

I haven’t had a chance to watch the Nightline interview with John Edwards yet, but I did read his statement after penning a letter to him. (FWIW, I’m inclined to say that I found his statement to be relatively redeeming.) As Slate pointed out, this kind of story is only a story when hypocrisy is involved (Again, see: Larry Craig.), as it was with Jesse Jackson. But even Jackson was able to maintain a public image. (Kind of.) And sure, mainstream media’s reluctance to cover the story is worth mentioning as well.

But I found Alessandra Stanley's article, True or False: Everyone Looks 10 Pounds Guiltier on TV, to be just a wash of anti-Edwards rhetoric. Stanley writes: “Even if he acted to pre-empt another wave of reports, Mr. Edwards didn’t need to put himself in front of a camera. Silence, or a written statement followed by a tactical retreat from public life, would have sufficed. But apparently Mr. Edwards is not ready to leave the stage; he just wanted to have more control over the script.”

Really? Because if he hadn’t gone in front of the cameras, what would the media have said then? And honestly, what’s wrong with controlling the script? Stanley does no more than piss and moan about smart politicking. In her world, Edwards was damned because he did, but by someone else’s standards, he was damned if he didn’t.

If Alessandra Stanley was really looking for an example of someone looking 10 pounds guiltier on TV, maybe she should have watched the Beijing Olympics Opening Ceremonies on Friday night instead. Because as Iraq’s four athletes entered the stadium, George W. Bush’s face contorted into an uncomfortable smirk that was worth several thousand lives worth of guilt. Or when Thailand entered the stadium, Bush exemplified all the enthusiasm for his country that one might expect from a president so disliked, as he disinterestedly slapped his thigh with the American flag and stared blankly into space.

At the very least Edwards apologizes for his behavior.

My Dear John Letter

2008-08-08T15:38:00.003-05:00

Dear John,

I really hoped against hope that the National Enquirer was pulling a Bat Boy on you. Even last night, as I watched The Birdcage and National Enquirer reporters trailed Gene Hackman’s senatorial character down to South Beach for a scandal, I thought of you and my stomach clenched up with fear. What if the tabloids were right? I took another bite of Black Diamond Cheddar to calm myself. No, I repeated. This politician who seemed like America’s son—the Bobby Kennedy of my generation—would not so scandalize himself or undermine his party.

And now, I discover, I’m the one who was wrong.

I’m a big girl, and I know that people aren’t perfect. Even Bobby had more than his fair share of fish in the sea. But in today’s cable news age—the Golden Era of Exaggerated and Reiterated News—wrong-footing like that spells career disasters, right? (See: Larry Craig.) But, look. That foot is neither here nor there, and the real issue is that I believed in you, your ideals and your policies, I stood up for you when Obamaniacs put you down as some big-time, overprivileged lawyer, and the whole time, you were lying to me, everybody else, and dare I say—yourself?

Do you remember the first time we met, John? It was 2005, I was only 20, it was a drizzly fall Sunday afternoon at Northwestern University, and you made a quick stop to talk with us College Democrats. After your speech, you spoke to a handful of us about what you’d been up to in the last year since the loss of the 2004 election. You were more than charismatic—your energy and enthusiasm enchanted me. You spoke of domestic issues like education and health care in such lyrical terms that you were more bard than politician. I was smitten, won over, and already invested in you, who I saw as a bright light in that dark time still shrouded in the residue of 9/11, an endless war, a lost election, and, most freshly, Katrina. When you and your aides left that day, I was spellbound and sung your praises to my friends. And so I did, until recently.

I’m only 23, so I’m young and that means a couple things.

First, I don’t know a whole ton about what it’s like to bear the burden of America’s troubles as you run for office and your wife struggles with cancer. I’m sure that must be hard. But I also know the simple truth that when you fight to represent a country you love, you want to practice the morals that you preach.

Second, I think I’m too young to become jaded by politics and politicians, but I’m beginning to feel like I’m well on my way. For a while, I too considered a life in politics, but after enough involvement in college politics to recognize it wasn’t for me, I left it up to people like you to do what’s right.

But finally, and thankfully, I haven’t given up yet. I am disappointed in you, I’m hugely disappointed in this election, and I’m infinitely disappointed (and flabbergasted) by a country that could elect Bush twice. Despite whatever mistakes you’ve made, I still want to believe in you, and I hope that whatever you have to say gives me a reason to believe and your actions from here on out give me justification in that belief.

Thanks for listening,

Caitlin

Great Lakes Showdown

2008-08-06T14:05:00.005-05:00

While searching easy, cheap ways to get to Duluth from Chicago (there seem to be none, FWIW), I stumbled across this great article from The New York Times, circa June 9, 1888, that details the struggle between Duluth and Chicago to be the great train and shipping center of the Great Lakes. Essentially, they tell us, Duluth is the right choice as its trip will be an easier one to New York.

"The odds are 400 to 150 in favor of Duluth. Chicago and its great railways may as well face the truth first at last. They are handicapped in nature, and Chicago is in a measure sidetracked."

Ah, how I love my city's history. And how I love how New York has always believed itself to be the center of everything.

[The pic, btw, is of the 1888 Chicago White Stockings.]

Trouble in Monkeytown

2008-08-04T15:51:00.002-05:00

More shocking (shocking!) news from Bachelor world as Shayne and Matt have officially broken things off. While this may not come as a surprise to some of us who sensed the tension between the two of them, even as they discounted rumors of their break up at an After the Final Rose pow wow with Chris Harrison.

But even better (better!) news is that Shayne refuses to return the ring that Matt, er, I mean ABC bought for her. Matt wants her to auction the ring off to give the proceeds to charity, but the little monkey just won’t take her paws off it! Imagine that. [BuddyTV]

Cello Song

2008-08-04T12:02:00.001-05:00

It’s rainy, I’m tired, Lollapalooza and Chicago wore me out this weekend.

Jumping around on Muxtape this morning brought me back to Nick Drake, which turned out to be just what I needed on this gray day. No matter how long it’s been since the last time I listened to Nick Drake, every time I return to his music, it’s like hearing it for the first time.

Life Lessons in the Lunchroom

2008-07-30T17:27:00.002-05:00

When the siren blared in the cafeteria, we all knew what to do. After all, we were third graders and tornado drills had become old hat at Louisa Wright Elementary. But, even for us elementary elders, this was our first "real" tornado during school, which was bone-chilling enough…but there was an even bigger issue at hand. It was Tuesday. It was Chicken Nugget Day.

I rarely bought lunch at school. Occasionally, I got a carton of chocolate milk to go with the bologna sandwich my mom had packed me. On certain Fridays, I bought a slice of the freakish four-cornered pizza (which I only bought because everyone else did and, foolishly, I always believed that with enough attempts I'd figure out what everyone loved about the cheese slice).

But Chicken Nugget Tuesdays were the holy day of the school-bought lunch calendar—even better than November's Thanksgiving Lunch or the rare May Ice Cream Social. The chicken was spicy, breaded and piping hot. A heaping serving of barbecue sauce accompanied the meaty morsels. And the sides—well, who cared about the sides? They were merely a backup chorus to the poultry lunchtime luminary.

This particular Chicken Nugget Day had arrived after a long drought of chicken nuggetless lunches. I had long awaited the arrival of a lunch calendar that featured my favorite meal, and this Tuesday was a saving grace.

I spent my morning classes distracted, checking the envelope of lunch money my mom had sealed for me, contemplating whether I would savor the chicken's flavor or lose control and down the nuggets quickly. The anxiety in our reading class was palpable—the collective body of the classroom leaning toward the door, begging the teacher to release us before the other third graders got to the line before us.

After a brief reprimand on how we needed to pay better attention to our studies before lunch, the teacher released us. We piled like bulls out of a stockade into a messy single-file line, pushing and stepping on one another's feet to speed the procession to the cafeteria. To our dismay, we were the last class to arrive. Sixty other third-graders stood in line, some already happily trotting to their tables with their trays laden with the feast.

We waited as patiently as one can expect hungry eight- and nine-year-olds to wait, biding our time in line until it was our turn to skim our tray across the stainless steel serving station, thanking the hair-netted cooks and paying the head lunch lady with the bills and change that had turned damp and warm in our little hands

I was ecstatic. Rushing to a table on the east side of the cafeteria, I quickly sat and bit into my first nugget. The smoky, spicy flavors rushed into my mouth, and for a moment, I was happy.

Then, the siren.

I hesitated, picked up my tray to bring it to shelter with me, then put it down and shoved two nuggets into my mouth instead. The teachers acted quickly, sending some of us into the hallway and others, like me, into the bathrooms. There was stifled laughter as girls and boys entered opposite sex bathrooms, subsequently followed by a hissing "Omigosh, grow up. You are so immature," from the more worldly third-graders. As I was directed into girls' bathroom, I looked back longingly at the empty tables, lined with their pastel green, pink and yellow trays. The smell of chicken still lingering in the heavy, humid air as the shriek of the siren continued.

As we waited, some of us assumed the safety position—heads between knees, hands over heads, a few of us held hands as a quiet reassurance, and then there were those of us who could still taste the barbecue sauce that smeared our sticky lips and counted the minutes of precious lunchtime that were stolen from us.

After an agonizing period during which I successfully memorized the beige, brown and black tile pattern on the bathroom floor, we were allowed to return to our tables with only minutes left in lunchtime to finish our now-chilled lunches.

I pressed my index finger against the soggy breaded surface of the nugget, releasing cold grease from the tepid meat. Letting out one little sigh mourning the loss of my favorite lunch, I picked up my tray and threw the remnants of Chicken Nugget Tuesday into the trash.

Maybe it was while looking deep into the soiled black garbage bag at the torn white flesh of our class's nuggets that for the first time, I recognized that vulnerability pervaded even our lunch calendar. If violent winds could extinguish Chicken Nugget Tuesday, then what else might blow away without warning?

Or maybe it wasn't that deep. But I never bought Chicken Nugget Tuesday lunch again; and to this day, when I order chicken nuggets or pop some in the oven, I instinctively scan the sky for warning signs first while flashes of beige, brown and black tile flicker before me. I bite into the flesh. I won't have another meal stolen from me again.

Ughhhh cuuuuuuuute

2008-07-30T14:42:00.002-05:00

Well, this story is a year old, but somehow I missed it. And ughhhhhh.... cuteness.

Uptown Theatre Sold!

2008-07-29T17:39:00.002-05:00

Good news today!

The Uptown Theatre has been sold to Jam Productions. Jam promises that they will renovate this beautiful but decaying theatre.

As some of you know, I have a big spot in my heart for this theatre as I watched John dedicate himself to a documentary on the theatre and its supporters. The people who have fought to keep this theatre alive and well, dedicating tireless and countless hours to its preservation, are inspiring.

I’ve been lucky enough to get the (kinda illegal) personal tour, and it made my heart break to see so many beautiful things sitting in neglect. I hope that the whole city can soon see a renovated gem. If you haven’t seen it yet, check out John’s documentary to see just a peek of the Uptown!

Funny Girls

2008-07-27T11:00:00.003-05:00

I recommend everyone read my friend Kim's piece in Time Out Chicago on women in the Chicago comedy scene, Painful Punchlines. There's been a lot of acutely defensive backlash-- which in my opinion can only be construed as a reaction precipitated from guilt--from some readers and comedians on both TOC's article and The Bastion.

One comedian and commenter suggested that this "divisive" article was the last thing the scene needed right now. Is it better to sweep such "divisive" issues under the rug, should they upset everyone too much?

Personally, I'm glad that this piece brought up some of the issues that have kept me from being truly drawn in by live comedy in the city. Whether or not girl-bashing is offensive, it's not particularly funny or original.

Furthermore, defending the comedians who engage in girl-bashing, like Chicago comedian Carrie Callahan did ("A few of the dudes who have misogynist stage personas are some of the sweetest guys around."), only provides weak excuses for bad comedy by arguably banal, locker room comedians.

Since this piece was published, I've felt like I keep running into more issues of women in comedy. T Magazine did screen tests with comedians, including Anna Faris, who said the following: 'It's harder for a woman to be accepted as funny if there's sexuality involved because sexuality isn't always very humorous.'

I then got sucked into watching Sarah Haskin's "Target Women" series, which I find pretty hilarious (and not to mention tasteful). Sarah happens to live in Chicago too, which is worth mentioning, and was profiled on The Bastion.

Here are a few of my favorites of her videos, but also check out the Suffrage and Botox videos.

Feed Your F---ing Family

Yogurt Edition

Wedding Shows

And!

2008-07-25T13:27:00.003-05:00

I bought this bike at A Nearly New Shop. Um, minus the blond hussy and the totally awesome purple-and-white seat. And plus a basket. And minus those high heels.

I'm going RIGHT NOW to pick it up!!

A Mega-Recap

2008-07-25T13:08:00.002-05:00

It’s been one week since my brush with the Megabus, and I’m now privy to that world of tiny seating, efficient driving and bizarre road stops that Megabus encapsulates.

After staying up scrubbing the floors in my apartment until 3 AM on Thursday night, I was looking forward to a good minimum four-hour nap on the bus Friday afternoon. J and I rushed over to the random corner in Chicago where Megabus handles pick-ups, where we were met by throngs of the masses, waiting for various bus routes.

“Is this bus going to Minneapolis?” asked one lady.

“No, Indianapolis, then Cincinnati,” responded a random woman, who seemed to be a representative of Megabus and in charge of the pick-ups and drop-offs.

“Then Minneapolis?” asked the lady hopefully.

“Um, no,” said the random woman. Megabus is such a confusing experience that even we proud Americans forget simple geography.

I handed over my printed-out reservation confirmation, and J and I plowed our way through the narrow aisle to snag the last two seats open next to one another.

(We were ten minutes early to our 3:30 bus and it was packed. Later, around 3:35, a girl who I’d like to refer to as “Northwestern Stupid”—ask me to define that for you another time—arrived with her friend. They wandered the aisle, looking surprised that no paired seats were open five minutes AFTER the bus was scheduled to leave and slamming people with their backpacks as they turned and turned.

Finally, they settled their eyes on one 20-something college student who had clearly arrived early, settling in with his laptop, bag and some chem notes arranged neatly over two seats.

“Ummmmm,” said the girl through her nose. “Can you move over there?” she pointed to an open seat next to a woman who clearly had no interest in sharing her space. “My friend and I are traveling together, and there’s an open seat over there.”

Miraculously, this guy moved for these girls. People like this deserve medals...or the seats they originally chose when they arrived on time. Moving on...)

I was disappointed to realize that, despite my pillow, I wouldn’t likely be falling asleep any time soon, and at least not for any long periods of time. I had heard legends of the double-decker Megabus, but we hadn’t been so lucky to land a ride on one of those. The bus was packed tight, and it wasn’t easy to relax, or lean back, or do much else other than ride in a semi-fetal position with my feet resting on my bag and my knees up against my face.

The ride itself was fine, replete with Pride and Prejudice reading, music listening and The Office watching. I might take this opportunity to point out that the albums I listened to (The Beatles, Coldplay, Once) were all UK artists, and I was struck by how much good music that country turns out. It was a British-themed Megabus ride.

When we arrived, John and I to have some extra time downtown in Cincinnati, which could have been really bad if the area was as desolate as it normally is. Instead, a summer music festival was happening in Fountain Square, so we both tried a BL Lime (too lime-y, yet it covered up the tinny taste of Bud Light, soo... kind of a draw) and admired the Square while we waited for my family.

As much as I complained when I lived in Ohio about there not being anything to do there, I have to admit that being in the Square and watching the music was really nice and provided something that busier urban areas don’t have--tranquility. Unlike my experiences in Chicago or New York, where outdoor music and movie nights are jam-packed and the beers are 8 bucks instead of four, this little outdoor concert was relaxing and calm, with space for kids to run freely and people to break out into dance occasionally. It was great.

The rest of the weekend was not so peaceful, with an early Saturday wake-up, a trip to a sketchy warehouse to pick up a Uhaul, and lots and lots of packing. The best part of the weekend was a dip in the pool and a trip with J and family to Dewey’s Pizza. Oh, God—Dewey’s pizza... a miracle upon miracles. MMmmmm Deweeeyyyyss x-pepperonnniiiii pizzzaaaaaaa....

J drove the whole back to Chicago on Sunday, and I cannot thank him enough for it (or all of his other help loading and unloading our truck). We listened to lots of bad music on the Uhaul radio and were forced into conversation (awwkwarrrd!) on the ride back. We also ate Penn Station. Mmmmm... Penn Statioooonnnnnn Clubbbb sandwichhhhhh.

The family stayed a night with me, helping me get stuff together, and slowly, slowly, slowly the apartment comes together. I’ll post pictures, I promise, as soon as I can!

Why did the peacock cross the road?

2008-07-24T15:40:00.003-05:00

Um, somebody please explain to me why this man, who saved a peacock from the side of the road, cannot get anyone to help him find the proper home for it?? Really? “So far, he's had no luck with the Game Commission, animal control, the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, or the local zoo,” says the article.

I guess the first question we should ask is, Why pick a peacock of the side of the road?

It's here!

2008-07-18T12:07:00.004-05:00

It's Megabus day. I'm taking the 3:30 bus from random corner in Chicago to random corner in Cincinnati--with one pit-stop at random corner in Indianapolis. I'm hoping John brought his camera so we can document the journey!

Sometimes we just need a day off

2008-07-17T16:03:00.003-05:00

This morning literally started with me getting my panties in a bunch.

I should learn to take signs like this one as direct messages from God. “Caitlin, this day, it’s not yours, h’okay? Fuhgeddaboudit. Just get back in bed. You can’t win this one. Capice?”

Instead, I spit and swore my way through donning the new underwear that I just bought from Target. (This purchase makes the third Hanes purchase in a row that’s been disappointing. Something about their elastic and cotton material seems different, and I am not a happy camper.)

And I trudged on, pulling on my jeans and moving on with my day, which could only be rectified—naturally—with a pot of coffee. Still bleary-eyed and feeling all sorts of restricted, I got my coffeemaker ready to go… Only to have it literally spew grinds at me (how? I don’t know) and gurgle now coffee ground-ridden, dirty water. I cleaned up, scalded my hand on the kitchen faucet, made a fresh pot that smelled distinctly of an odor best described as cat pee lit afire, and then tossed it down the drain.

Giving up, I decided I’d drive to work and hit up a coffee shop on the way. As I walked out to my car, I noticed that the block was strangely empty. Oh no, street cleaning! I thought. A quick glance up and down the block revealed no street cleaning signs, however. But alas! A ticket! (My second this week!) And indeed, tucked underneath a small tree with low swinging branches was the only sign posted for three-quarters of the block: Street cleaning, Thursday, 9 am to 3 pm.

I took a long look back at my front door. It was like God was standing there in the window, waving the memo he sent me: Fuhgeddaboudit, Caitlin!

Sometimes, I should listen.

Scarred and Stacked Neatly

2008-07-15T18:21:00.005-05:00

My name is Caitlin, and I’m a former Gap, Inc. employee. For two fulls years and two extra summers, I wore a headset, a frumpy, fire engine red T-shirt emblazoned with OLD NAVY and discovered the horrors of retail.

Aside from the finagling penny-pinchers, the unruly kids and the occasional sociopath who frequented the store, the greatest horror of all was The Truck.

If you frequented an Old Navy between the late 90s and early 2000s (and, appallingly, even at some stores now), you are acquainted with The Truck. That hulking blue monstrosity with the glazed-eyed prop dog gathering dust in its stripped cab. Yeah, that one.

Where customers saw the infamous Flag Tees or the latest round of knock-off men’s “vintage” tees (Gettin’ Lucky in Kentucky, people.), we employees saw the tenth circle of Hell.

At least one person dedicated their entire eight-hour shift to the tumbling piles of once-neatly-folded shirts that surrounded The Truck. The delicate balance never held. After an employee defensively guarded their orderly stacks of shirts, perhaps leaving their post for only a fifteen minute soda break in the back, the customers (and their children) would come in hordes to The Truck.

The questions would follow:

Where did The Truck come from? How much would we take for it? Where could they find one? Could their son just climb in the cab for a picture? It wouldn’t take but a minute and the camera’s all charged and ready to go, so please?

We’d watch, devastated, as the piles would come crashing down. At 9:05, the folding table was retrieved from the back, rolled to The Truck and the toil began again. Left corner sleeve to middle third. Right corner sleeve to middle third. Lower hem folded one third up. Bottom folded refolded to shoulder. Stack. Repeat.

In the hours I spent at The Truck, I never thought The Wall Street Journal might dedicate an article to the art I learned there. It turns out that I’m not the only scarred Gap, Inc. employee out there.

The Second Coming...

2008-07-11T11:07:00.000-05:00

God help us all.

HBO parent Warner Bros. and New Line have "enormous interest" in doing another "Sex and the City" film, according to HBO Programming Group President Michael Lombardo, who said the studio is "trying with our help to put that together."

He told the critics that "everybody associated with it was really heartened by the enthusiasm from the fans and by the new fans to the show."

In which there's nothing to watch...

2008-07-10T12:18:00.002-05:00

As I’ve mentioned recently, I moved. I have yet to order Internet and cable (on my list of things to do this afternoon), which means my choices of television have been limited to Wipeout, whatever new incarnation of CSI and Law and Order is on, and PBS. In this field of choices, I’ve naturally turned to the least sucky—PBS—for when I collapse after an evening of painting/cleaning/moving boxes around aimlessly.

And here’s what I’ve learned: PBS is TOTALLY awesome! So far I’ve learned about the bog mummies of Ireland (totally creepy! and not good to watch alone in a big apartment by yourself), all about John Adams (planning on renting the HBO mini-series now), Japan’s neutralized military, how babies are made, and most awesome of all, the life of a navy officer on a US carrier. Carrier is by far my new favorite show, but I have to admit, Aaron Brown’s new hair has me thinking frosty. Mm, Frosties… (The original Silver Fox posted for your consideration.)

Sweats, Sharks and Shoelaces: The Bachelorette Finale

2008-07-08T12:13:00.003-05:00

For the last time, ABC gets their chance to reintroduce us to DeAnna, except this time we don't rehash that whole debacle with Brad Womack. Instead, we rehash that other debacle with poor, poor Jeremy. Tonight, it's time for the boys to meet the whole big fat Greek family--Yaya, Papoo, Windex and all!

Jason tells us he's just a regular ol' guy, a single dad, and he's so happy with DeAnna. We re-meet Ty for the fourteenth time this season, just so ABC can rehash how forward-thinking they are with their token single dad. Cue: shots of DeAnna being maternal with Ty while Jason strips off the body armor. For what it's worth--that body armor, it's everywhere. So many of these men are so damaged.

Jesse shows up to remind us that he's just a dude from the slopes, but that DeAnna takes him out of his element and he's fallen in love with her. He also drops the words "scared" and "nervous" a couple times, which are drier reminders of the sweatiness that's yet to come.

Big Fat Greek Family, Part I of II

Jason arrives to meet the immediate Pappas family and he easily impresses the whole crew. Living up to his gentlemanly standard, Jason approaches D's dad and asks for her hand in marriage. Dad says that no one has ever done that before. Hold the phone. What? What about all those rumors that Brad had Dad flown out to ask for his permission to marry DeAnna way back when? Was I the only one who heard those? Moving on...

When Jesse arrives to meet DeAnna's family, he makes introductions by palming some of his nervous sweat on everybody's hands. Not about to make things easier, Dad grills him. What are you doing beyond snowboarding? Why didn't your last relationship work out? Where are these pink shoelaces I've heard so much about? If you take my daughter away, then you better know that I'm going to hunt you down and break your snowboard over your head, dude. Jesse dry-heaves into the bushes in between takes.

After Jesse leaves, Dad and DeAnna hash out the two men. Dad says that Jason told him he was falling in love with her, so he must mean it. Jesse said the same thing, but there was something about his fluffy hair that made Dad wonder if he could really know what love is. When Dad mentions that Jesse didn't ask for DeAnna's hand, DeAnna furrows her brow in frustration. According to the Pappas family rules, men who don't grovel are not men at all.

Big Fat Greek Family, Part II of II

In addition to DeAnna's dad, sister, brother and sister-in-law, Papoo, Yaya and some other assorted family members have shown up to grill the guys...at the same time!!
This is the first of several attempts by ABC to add drama to this finale. Bringing both the guys to the family at the same time? Really, ABC? You might as well bring Jason's ex into this sitch to really make it dramatic. Maybe throw in Brad too just for some added conflict. Or, you could allow a "jilted ex-Bachelor" to come back and confront DeAn--oh, you really are going to do that? Okay.

Jesse arrives first, knowing full well he totally botched yesterday and preparing to make good today. DeAnna also hopes that Jesse isn't as nervous today because she doesn't know how she'll explain the sweats, shakes and vomiting to Yaya. Terrific touch: Jesse does not bring flowers--but he's carrying a potted plant.

Ding dong! The tension of the doorbell crackles in the air!

Jason arrives, announces that he doesn't like sharing DeAnna and secretly plots to put a heating pad under Jesse during dinner to make him sweat more.

The dinner scene consists of extremely fast edits of Jesse not knowing Greek food, Jason knowing Greek food, Jason throwing about compliments to D's family and Jesse throwing fist pounds with D's Papoo.

Jason charms Yaya to pieces, and Yaya's aside about how wonderful and good her husband is makes me tear up and stifle a sob with a big bite out of my Tostitos Hint-of-Lime chips.

Elsewhere in the World of Emotions, Jesse also brings DeAnna's sister and sister-in-law to tears by mentioning his own tears over Dee. Sister-in-law tells Jesse to rock it out and be himself, which is the best advice the dude receives throughout the entire show.

Jesse pulls Dad aside to ask for Dee's hand in marriage. Nice save, Jesse. Jesse and Dad make nice and pound it at the end of their dude-to-dude talk.

The day ends, and nobody wants to say goodbye. Jesse plays well by "tricking" Jason into taking the first limo so he can get the last kiss.

DeAnna sits down with her sisters to get their opinions. Sister thinks that Jason is more into her. Sister-in-law thinks that Jesse is closer to the same place as DeAnna. DeAnna is confused and thinks that maybe buying another swimsuit for the Bahamas will help her make her decision.

Back in the Bahamas

DeAnna barely gets to break in the new suit before some ABC producer approaches her.

"Um, hey De-ANN-a--"

"It's De-AHH-nuh!"

"Oh, right. Um, so the execs aren't too happy with the ratings of your show so far, and with it being summer scheduling and all, we need to fill two hours, plus that totally unnecessary extra hour-long After the Final Rose show. And um, we never filmed your family's ouzo-soaked Opa!'s to fill an extra five minutes, so basically we need to fill a little extra time with some conflict and we've brought a jilted ex-bachelor back."

"Is it Graham? I hope it's Graham."

"Uh, no. Graham's busy hooking up with all the girls who want to jump his bones after seeing him on national television. But we do have Jeremy."

"Is he still crying like the emasculated wuss he is?"

"Um..."

"Fine! Send him in, but make sure he's wearing really tight pants, okay? ..And bring me another swimsuit!"

Jeremy arrives to make DeAnna feel awful for her decision to send him home and gain sympathy from America. Jeremy tells DeAnna that he has been a cold person since his mom died and that after meeting DeAnna, he has changed and feels things he hasn't felt since before his mom's death. DeAnna tells him that her feelings for him should be stronger and she cannot drag him on when they're not meant to be. They exchange kisses on the cheeks and part ways. Jeremy has a breakdown outside the hotel where he secures his position as the next bachelor.

Date with Jesse: ABC Crosses Two Hit Shows to Make One Boring Date: The Bachelorette and Lost

The next day, DeAnna tries to clear her mind of all that Jeremy crap with a new swimsuit and a date with Jesse. Jesse tells us that today is either the rest of his life or his last date with Dee. I am so impressed—Dude be eloquent.

DeAnna takes Jesse to a deserted island. More or less, they just make out while Jesse's voiceover reiterates the same old same old.

Back at the hotel, Jesse gives DeAnna her present: a book for DeAnna that consists of nice thoughts and prom-pose pictures of them together on all of their dates. This brings less a revelation of Jesse's feelings for DeAnna and more of a revelation on the fact that these photos exist. Does ABC make some lowly assistant carry around a Polaroid camera to snap shots at every single date? Where did these come from? I'm so impressed.

Date with Jason: ABC Tries to Create Tension by Putting Bachelorette and Bachelor in Water With Man-Eating Sharks

On their date, Jason and DeAnna go shark diving. Did anyone else feel like this scene was practically biblical? Like, the two of them kneeling in prayer, holding hands while the sharks bump up against cameramen? This show keeps getting weirder.

After dinner, Jason gives DeAnna his gift--a board game that reenacts every moment they've shared together and spells reenact incorrectly. At first, I think this is cute. But as the "reinacted" moments keep coming, I start to feel uncomfortable, like Jason had planned this all along and the whole love reality show thing really is just a game. DeAnna, however, loves it and melts when Jason tells her he loves her.

Final Rose Ceremony

On the morning of the rose ceremony, DeAnna shows us how hard this decision is for her by wearing her glasses and not washing her hair. This MUST be tough! Oh, I guess not. DeAnna tells us she knows who she's picking.

Jason and Jesse pick out their rings. Jason sits down with ease, picks out a ring and checks his reflection, practicing faces for when DeAnna accepts his proposal. Jesse nearly spews outside the makeshift ring shop before entering For the record, I like the ring Jesse chose better.

All three get ready for the big day. DeAnna curls her hair with a straightening iron? I'm so confused. Jason poses a lot in perfect shots with the wind blowing across his face. Jesse sweats a lot and downs some Tums. Both men cry.

Chris "America's Favorite Host" Harrison walks DeAnna out to her pedestal. You know, that pedestal that she's been on since she got dumped by Brad? I'm sure you remember it. The one that no single guy seemed able to crawl up to and join her because DeAnna's expectations are so high? Yeah, that one.

The first limo pulls out, and it's: Jason! Jason tells us he's not nervous. He's excited to get started on his life with DeAnna. After rushing down the walk, Jason quickly gets down on one knee. Before he can more than "I" out, DeAnna interrupts: No, I can't.

DeAnna tells Jason that she cannot share her future with him but that she loves someone else. Jason tells DeAnna that he really did fall in love with her. DeAnna cries as she walks Jason to the limo. In the limo, Jason is at first quiet and dejected before he opens up. "Why me? I was so ready to be in love again. God I wanna fall in love, I've had a huge hole in my heart for years." Jason worries he was not adventurous and on the edge enough for DeAnna. Jason says he already feels that body armor up again and the only thing he has is Ty.

DeAnna tells us that Jesse is someone she can see herself with in the future. "Man, my stomach's in knots," Jesse tells Chris. That's pretty sweet. Jesse manages to keep down his breakfast as he walks up to DeAnna. "I never thought this process could be real and I could fall in love here, but I did. The thought of not being with you kills me. I want to spend forever with you and I truly believe you are my soulmate. DeAnna Marie Pappas, will you spend forever with me?" DeAnna says yes, they kiss and she says, "I would not be okay if you were not in my life. And I love you. I've waited so long to say that. I love you."

To carry us out, Natasha Bedingfield. Remember? We saw her at the first date? Well, just in case you forgot, ABC included it in the flashbacks. And as a final thought? "I cannot believe I'm going to marry the guy with the pink shoelaces!"

And as an aside, I did watch the After the Final Rose show but didn't really find it worth blogging--plus, I was busily painting the new apartment's living room (what, what, Cozy Cottage by Behr!). However, I did LOVE how ABC brought back Matt and Shayne to disprove all those silly rumors of monkey trouble. I'm not so sure I believe them, but it was good to see the Monkeys in addition to the Pink Shoelaces. Until next time, fill yourself with some Jesse Csincsak love by reading up on him on Purl, watching an online rerun of the time he was an MTV Made coach, this 2005 article about how Jesse helped less-well-off boarders get their chance on the slopes, or his profile on his website, which--for the record--lists girls as the number two thing that sucks.

2008-07-08T09:51:00.004-05:00

Well, if last night's episode didn't include enough forced drama (making people sit with sharks? really, ABC?) and swimsuits, I don't know what would. I've got an update on the way later today. Until them, keep on nuggin'.

Greatest Ever Played

2008-07-07T12:46:00.002-05:00

As I’ve said before, I am a huge devotee of both Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal, so watching them play one another with so much passion and such great skill was (like McEnroe had to have said at least a half dozen times) an honor.

One thing that those of us in the US didn’t get to catch was a commercial the BBC had filmed in case of a rain delay. (Good thing there were two.) The network had each player read passages from Rudyard Kipling’s poem “If,” from which two lines are engraved over the entrance to Centre Court: If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster/And treat those two impostors just the same.

It’s incredible that these two players did just that—meet triumph and disaster—with such grace and respect for one another. It only makes it more difficult for me to choose who I’ll root for at the US Open.

The video, although a little maudlin with the music, is touching, particularly given the tension during the time it aired. Check it (and the poem) out below.

If by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And - which is more - you’ll be a Man my son!

Earth-Shattering Revelations

2008-07-03T13:55:00.003-05:00

Occasionally in life, everything we believe in is turned upside down. The last time this happened to me, I practically argued with my AP US History teacher that Henry Clay was, in fact, once president. (I swear to GOD that he was! Someone went back in time, changed history, and I’m the only one who knows the truth.)

Today, a similarly disturbing truth was revealed to me, and all that I’ve ever known is now questioned. Prepare yourselves, people, for something you probably already knew: Loofahs are not sponges.

I have avoided buying loofahs--or so much as looking at them--because of the stomach-turning reaction I have to their porous surface which I imagined as the squishy innards of a sponge. (By the way, I can’t explain this reaction, but I truly am nauseated by things with little holes or scales. Thus, my dislike for fish and how sometimes I feel like even certain mesh materials are looking at me the wrong way.)

But to (only) my (own) surprise (and nobody else’s), loofahs are made from the locules of a gourd. A GOURD. Not a sponge. Well, I guess you live and learn but can continue to insist that someone changed history and nobody else knows…

Bleepity-Bleep

2008-06-27T12:40:00.003-05:00

I must apologize to any of my friends and readers who have come here expecting updates on Bachelorette stuff, life in general, or more on how weird Europe is. I’ve been in the thick of a big move, packing and cleaning like the crazy woman I am. I don’t know how I’ve managed to accumulate so many possessions that happen to be so difficult to pack (fondue pots and pussywillow, for example), but I am learning much about how few books can fit into a box before it finally tears apart in protest.

With John’s family coming in town and a Spanish cake to bake this weekend in celebration of the Euro Cup, a trip to Six Flags for a pseudo-nephew’s birthday and then a two-part move that will wind up on Tuesday evening, I hope to update as frequently as I can and hope you understand! In the meantime, I’ll be here in Chicago in the throes of moving emotion and subsequently collapsing.

Love,

Caitlin

Mega Questions

2008-06-25T13:51:00.003-05:00

Dear Friends,

I am faced with a tough decision in the coming days. In mid-July I’ll need to drive a U-Haul from Cincinnati to Chicago stuffed with furniture. This situation of course means I cannot drive the brave little Beetle to Cincinnati and leaves me all sorts of planes, trains and automobuses to consider taking there. I’ve most recently seriously considered taking the notorious Megabus.

So, my question is this: Do I take a Megabus from Chicago to Cincinnati? I’ve heard mixed things—that the buses arrive heinously late, that it’s efficient, that it’s better to spend the money getting there some other way, and that it’s a great deal. Can anyone offer me advice?

I am,

Gratefully yours J

DeAnna the Drama Mama

2008-06-23T22:16:00.002-05:00

Phew!

I don't know about you guys, but I'm duh-rama'd out. I only saw half the show this evening as I just returned from a lovely wedding in Ohio (congratulations Allyson and Josh!). Thus, I cannot justly update until I watch the full thing tomorrow evening... after a good night's sleep for clear thoughts.

In the meantime, I highly encourage you to visit Graham's website, forwarded to me from a wonderful commenter. Many mysteries are solved. For example: Graham played basketball in Germany, not in the United States! Now you know why you never saw him before now.

Edgewater Dinner Crawl

2008-06-20T11:41:00.003-05:00

Hey northside Chicago readers,
Wanted to give you a heads-up to a great event happening in Edgewater next week. The Historic Edgewater Dinner Crawl is on Thursday, June 26th and for $25, you’ll get a tasting from fourteen different neighborhood restaurants (listed below). You’ll also get a free subscription to Time Out Chicago included with your ticket purchase. Pretty cool. For tickets, sign up here.

Participating Restaurants:
Apart Pizza
Anna Held
Ben's Noodle & Rice
Bryn Mawr Deli
Cotes du Rhone
Flourish Bakery Cafe
Francesca's Bryn Mawr
Pepitone's
Sabai-Dee
Shinobu Japanese
Starbucks
Sweet Occasions & more
That Little Mexican Cafe
The Little India Restaurant

Participating Businesses:
Salon Echo - hand & chair massages
Holsten Real Estate - tours of historic Bryn Mawr & Belle Shore buildings
Red Bull - roving representatives distributing their product

Event Sponsors:
Francesca's Restaurants
Holsten Real Estate Development Corporation
The New Admiral at the Lake
Bridgeview Bank
BLUEWATER5440 Condominiums

Other countries continue to confuse me

2008-06-19T17:02:00.004-05:00

Apparently it's The United States is Like This and Everyone Else is Like That Week. The lessons keep coming.

While Americans might feature children playing in streets to stop speeding, or photos of cut-up unborn babies to curb abortions (I know, because a whole lot of those signs got put up outside my window on a hot, muggy July day last year. Thanks for the nightmares, church across the street!), the French use refined fashion icons like Karl Lagerfeld to get the point across about... well, I'm not sure about what actually. Safety vests?

Still, just like that Russian video, I have many questions, like:

Isn't Karl Lagerfeld German?
Are those OJ Simpson gloves?
Are all French people supposed to wear safety vests everywhere they go now?
Is this viral marketing for French first lady Carla Bruni's newest album?
Or, why not just use Provencal fashion designer Christian Lacroix's out-there designs to stop traffic? Believe me, it'll work. See below.

((Translation: It's yellow, it's ugly, it doesn't go with anything, but it can save your life.))

The Drive-in Gods Smile Upon Chicagoland

2008-06-18T17:21:00.001-05:00

Hallelujah, and thank God Almighty! Sonic is finally arriving to Chicagoland. No more suffering through the bitter irony of Chicagoan TJ Jagodowski telling me how great their shakes are when I couldn’t drive to get one. I KNOW, TJ. STOP TAUNTING ME! Gosh.

If I drove to Wheaton this weekend to get window sashes, I can drive to Aurora to get a limeade. Mmm, limeade… [Trib]

British Tailgating Checklist

2008-06-17T15:11:00.001-05:00

Tablecloths

Fresh flowers

Crumpets

Porcelain cups and/or fine glassware

...personally, I'd be chuffed to be there.

Live Blogging: The Bachelorette: And Then There Were Six

2008-06-16T22:29:00.006-05:00

I couldn't possibly recap the DeAnna Tells All hour long extravaganza. So let's just say this much:

DeAnna, as my roommate pointed out, talked about every man but one in PAST tense. Did you notice which one?
Sean owns too many shoes.
I found no reason to trust Graham Man yet.

Now onto the real show. Here we all are--six men, DeAnna, Chrissy boy Harrison, and America. Chris tells us that no roses will be given on any of the dates this time, but good news! We're all going to beautiful Palm Springs!

Jesse thanks DeAnna profusely for having given so much thought and slaving over the phone to make all these wonderful arrangements for all of them! DeAnna is so thoughtful to have pitied their poor souls and given them a real house. Poor Jesse, just like Pinnochio. Aw, snap! says Jesse.

Date with Sean
Sean, let's take our relationship to new heights!

Sean says he's a Kentucky race horse. He hung back, and now he's ready to make his move to win the race. To start off their date, DeAnna and Sean go up a sheer cliff in a Willy Wonka machine. For having survived the journey, they get to have dinner at the top of the mountain. If Sean fairs well enough through dinner, DeAnna will invite him back to her suite for dessert. Sean will undoubtedly see this as something like the garland of roses at the end of the Derby, and he'll trot around happily with his new coif.

At dinner, Sean tells DeAnna he never took a risk in the love department before because it's scary you can get hurt. He also confuses his Kentucky race horse metaphor, adding that he's like the race horse who would rather walk around with a loaded gun than no gun at all. It's times like these I wish that Chris would return and explain everything to us.

DeAnna invites Sean back to her suite. Sean says it's time for him to make his move.

DeAnna tells us that Sean has a lot to offer. Sean tells DeAnna that if she came to his hometown, the whole process would be over for her. Sean complains to DeAnna about how tough it is to see her on other one-on-one dates. They snuggle in the hammock while DeAnna says she needed tonight to get to know him. Sean calls DeAnna baby a lot while he licks his lips in between kisses. Flashes of Top Chef?

Generic "We're Having Fun in the Sun" Group Date
Jesse
Jason
Graham
Twigs

Poor, poor Twigs. He tells us that he's having a really tough time. Each time he thinks he's got something figured out, DeAnna throws him another curve ball. He doesn't understand her decisions.

When a helicopter shows up, all the guys are burned to discover it's meant specially for Twigs and DeAnna. It's just the chance Twigs needed! Except that Twigs gets motion sickness. Twigs thinks there's a conspiracy among the ABC producers who want him to throw up on her. I'm inclined to agree with him.

Out in some unknown desert where the 'copters drop them off, the boys and DeAnna ride ATVs. DeAnna explains that riding 4-wheelers is what happens back home. Like, some people eat dinner, others go to the movies, but in DeAnnaville, we ride all-terrain vehicles. Duh.

(Back at the house, Jeremy shows off his abs. End scene.)

Twigs is off by himself on the 4-wheelers. DeAnna thought that Jesse was hot because of the way he "manhandled" his 4-wheeler. Um, except for that time that he wiped out and some female on-site producer half-heartedly asks if he's okay. Then, poor Twigs get left behind while everyone else goes to play in the pool.

Emotions run in different directions at the pool party. Graham can't wait to have some more fun. Jason thinks he gets lost in the crowd. Towels get totally soaked because probably that same lackadaisical on-site producer left them lying right next to the water.

DeAnna and Jason talk about what it would be like to meet Jason's family. Good feelings are shared, and DeAnna says that Jason has all the qualities she looks for in someone to be her husband.

Jesse breaks up Jason and DeAnna with a strange cut-in where Jason kisses DeAnna goodbye while Jesse drags her away.

Jesse and DeAnna hold hands under the table, and DeAnna confesses how much she wishes Jesse would kiss her. Jesse freaks out and doesn't go for it. Jason tells Graham how Jesse was "that guy" who cut in on his time. Graham subsequently gets up to, um, be "that guy."

Jason continues to muse with Twigs. "Do you not see the connection between Graham and DeAnna?" Smart man.

Graham drags DeAnna to cuddle into a hammock, which really can't be too comfortable. Rope burn. Graham talks a lot. "You're going on a road trip! You're going to like my family! My family is going to like you! You won't believe it!" DeAnna pouts her lips, bats her eyelashes and bites her lower lip in attempts to snag more make out time with her favorite make out man. She succeeds.

Frank Sinatra Date with Jeremy
DeAnna gets to drive them in a vintage convertible to Frank Sinatra's house that he shared with Ava Gardner. Um, I am impressed. Nice work, ABC.

DeAnna cranks on the old recording studio and then proceeds to sin in the house of Blue Eyes with a blasphemed rendition of The Way You Look Tonight. Jeremy offers repentance to Old Blue Eyes.

Back at the vacation house, Twigs comments on how Jeremy is a mutant who can do anything. Anything except sing, apparently.

Over their dinner, Jeremy tells DeAnna there's nothing he can see in her that he doesn't like. DeAnna tells us she feels very loved by Jeremy, and that she wants very badly to fall in love with him.

They get in their swimmies together so that Jeremy can show off his abs more. We sit and watch as DeAnna and Jeremy gnaw on each other's lips.

Rose Ceremony with NO COCKTAIL PARTY!!!!
Uh oh. The boys notice something is different this time. "Everytime we roll in, she's sitting on the couch!" says Jesse. Indeed.

Chris "Sorry, Bro" Harrison tells the guys that DeAnna's mind is made up and there will be no cocktail party tonight. Jeremy gets worried. No cocktails?! What?! Twigs sits easy since he knows what's up for him, although he does seem disappointed he doesn't get a few free scotches for the road.

DeAnna comes out, says thank you and explains that she is trying not to lead them on like was done to her. (You know, just in case you forgot what happened to her.)

Roses:

Jeremy
Jason
Graham
Jesse

Sean says that DeAnna is the type of woman he can propose to, that he put himself out there but he didn't get his horse in gear early enough. Oh, honey. Some pasture out there has the right filly for you.

Twigs says that just because you open up doesn't mean that the girl will fall in love with you. He says he just has to be Twilley, gives DeAnna a lot of unnecessary reassurance and encouragement and sets on his way to be Twigs wherever he goes.

Next week, Jesse's back in his element! Jeremy's family beats up on DeAnna! Ty likes DeAnna! Everything is great with Graham--except for his mom! No relationship has lasted longer than four weeks?! How shocking! I cannot wait!

First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Matt with some suitcases on his way out of Shayne's condo

2008-06-16T12:57:00.003-05:00

Just a heads up on our dear Shayne and Matt. Looks like Matt has moved out of Shayne’s Studio City condo. While some report that Shayne demanded Matt move out because of his flirtatious behavior with other blondes, Matt insists that living together was intended to be a temporary thing since her place is too small to fit him, Shayne, her shoe collection and both their stage personalities. [via]

EDIT: Thanks to the boyfriend for pointing out how similar Shayne and the monkey's faces are in this post and the one below. Coincidence? Most likely not. There was monkey, after all.

Spider Monkey Attempts to Flee Country

2008-06-13T14:09:00.001-05:00

Here’s a great lede from the AP newswire: “A spider monkey used a garden hose to scale the wall of a moat at a Michigan City zoo before being captured at a nearby boat dealership.”

Apparently the monkey was captured while “atop a blue and white speedboat.” I have a theory this monkey was trying to get out of the country and go home. Thoughts? [AP]

Four Score and Seven Years Ago

2008-06-12T16:27:00.002-05:00

Try out your own on Wordle. Totally fun.

How the West Was “Punked” by Some Russian Director You’ve Never Heard Of

2008-06-12T14:48:00.004-05:00

Remember that video of the Russian worker flipping out and how most of us wondered if it was just some kind of viral marketing stunt? Big surprise—it WAS.

However, I’m not sure how successful it was because the connection between the viral video to the product it markets (which is, for the record, the movie Wanted, due out on June 27) is a hazy one. Essentially, the director, Timur Bekmanbetov, wanted to show what stepping outside your boundaries was like…and um, how gullible the West is. He explains all of this (in Russian—feel free to go translate) on his livejournal. (Insert only-emos-and-14-year-olds–use-livejournals joke here.)

Really, Timur? Don’t you see how posting a video that has nothing to do with your movie might confuse people? Especially all of us stupid Americans? Or even your own comrades who were posting news stories about it? All you had to do to get an American to go see your movie was market your stars Angelina Jolie and James McAvoy. Especially James McAvoy. Mm… You see, we’re really that shallow and not all that complicated, but thanks for the video anyway.

Fred's a popular gent

2008-06-10T16:57:00.006-05:00

Looks like there's a lot of interest in Fred (Greif) of Chicago. Anonymous poster, you have some competition--at least on Craigslist's Missed Connections. And just an FYI, according to Above the Law, Fred's not an attorney. He got his law degree (thus, he's a "lawyer," according to AtL) but never got a legal job and teaches gym at a Catholic school in Chicago. Expand the post for just a few of the Missed Connections posted for Fred today. This man's going to be busy.

Get in line ladies!

Live Blogging: The Bachelorette, Episode 4

2008-06-09T21:35:00.002-05:00

Chris "Doo Wop, Baby!" Harrison makes an uncharacteristic appearance at the beginning of the episode, explaining that the men will have to write songs for DeAnna. Whoever's song she likes best, gets to go on a one-on-one date. Remember TV Guide's write-up of this episode: "DeAnna accuses the nine remaining bachelors of refusing to take the competition seriously, but first she invites them to compete in a singing contest.”

The men rise to (and shrink from) the challenge.
Fred: "Oh. My. Gad." The Chicago boy performs a southern song.
Graham: "I want to eat glass instead of doing this."
Top Chef: Thoroughly impressed with his own singing.
Jeremy: White man rapping.
Jason: Hunter S. Thompson beat poetry.
Brian: "House of my pay-yay-yannnnne!!"

Jesse wins best song and is awarded the one-on-one date because he touched DeAnna's hands.

This week, Top Chef, Jason, and Fred all move into the mansion with DeAnna.

Jesse and DeAnna's Date with Natasha Bedinfield
Jesse is NERVOUS. He has to wear a suit jacket, a tie, and his mom isn't even driving them to the prom this year.

Jesse and DeAnna pull up to an old theater where the marquee reads: "Jesse, One night only... Just for you... Love, Deanna."

Jesse thinks everything is "out of control": Deanna, the marquee, the theater, even the table in front of the stage. Somebody get that table under control!

DeAnna makes Jesse recite his poem-song, "DeAnna." Jesse gets down to business and says he thought he'd be the last guy to come on TV and fall in love (which is obvi why he signed up for The Bachelor), but that's exactly what he has experienced. DeAnna says she usually isn't attracted to his "type," but she is because he is so real with her. DeAnna gives Jesse a rose, and then Natasha Bedingfield shows up to serenade the happy couple.

Group Date at the Stock Car Races!

Brian
Graham
Jason
Twigs

The men, naturally, freak out at the site of fast cars. Vroom! Vroom! The men put on their matching Top Gun outfits. For their challenge, whoever races the fastest, gets some one-on-one time! Nothing like speeding to prove love.

Brian's up first. Trouble getting that car in gear, but he tops 140 miles.
Jason hits 138.77.
Graham, true Manhattanite, hasn't driven a car in so long, but he hits more than 136.
Jeremy says he'll go to hell and back for DeAnna, but he only hits 129.
Twigs has motion sickness and doesn't like speeding, but he tops Brian with 140.59.
Sean, a natural Bluegrass boy, tops everybody and wins.

Sean and DeAnna lay back in the in-field where Sean lets DeAnna take the sunshine in her eyes while he complains that he's afraid he's losing. DeAnna reveals she lived in Campbellsville, Kentucky, and Sean is thrilled that they have that bluegrass connection, that redneck connection and that roughneck competition. DeAnna laughs and I squirm around uncomfortably, wondering if Sean's martial arts outfits feature big Confederate flags on their backs. Sean continues the racing metaphor, "In the race for DeAnna's heart, I was lagging, but I think I'm catchin' up."

DeAnna hits the track too and shows the men up, hitting 141.62 mph. Sean is REALLY excited about this. With the fumes of burning rubber and diesel in the air, the whole crew sits down for a post-race picnic. Jeremy, as usual, pulls DeAnna aside. The men are, as usual, pissed. Graham cuts in, and the men get upset again. Jason--wise father that he is--sees through the DeAnna/Graham situation, saying that Graham doesn't have to work as hard as the other men to prove that he is there for DeAnna.

Meanwhile, trouble in paradise. When DeAnna asks for a kiss, Graham says he doesn't want to be one of the bunch, looking meaningfully at the bouquet of flowers on the table between them. DeAnna tells us she doesn't think Graham is being very fair and that she feels a strong connection with Graham (or to his perfect, basketball player body and that just-right rugged stubble on his angled face), but that he's the one person not putting himself out there.

DeAnna gives Sean a rose while Twigs looks on with fire in his eyes. Jason says he feels lie he's lost his connection with DeAnna. Brian says he feels like he's on the outside of this house, looking in. (This deep metaphor is why I love Brian.) Twigs is, um, upset too.

Impromptu Coach House Party/Drama Fest
The boys decide to throw a non-rose related party and invite the mansion gentlemen and DeAnna down to celebrate. As a joke, the coach house men set up a kiddie table for the mansion men, labeling Top Chef's place marker with "Robbie." Top Chef freaks out, throws an innocent kiddie (chair) over his head, stamps on the chef's hat provided for him and then retreats to the house to sulk.

DeAnna is angered by what she sees with the men here. Brian's comfortable with being just one of the guys. Sean is back to his old ways. Top Chef is sulking and drinking out a bottle of wine. Twilley is being Twilley.

DeAnna confronts the moping Top Chef, who reveals that other guys told him not to be optimistic about tonight. DeAnna finally cracks, making Bachelorette history:

"Right now I should be the happiest person in the world, and you're all breaking my heart!" she begins. "Do you all feel good about that? I came down here today wanting to hang out with all y'all. If you don't wanna be here, go home. I know how hard this is, and I've been here in your position, but now I'm the one making the decisions and that's not easy too. This is not fair. I can't make promises to you that I can't keep." She stamps her foot. "I'm going to my house now, you guys can all stay here and hang out."

The men awkwardly half-follow her, but let her go. Jeremy astutely explains to everyone what just happened, while Graham, Twigs and Brian blame themselves.

2-on-1 Date at a Some ABC Producer's Mansion in the Hills of Hollywood
"I have a bunch of recipes for love," Top Chef sleazes at the camera. "Smooth, rich, succulent. Grrrrrrowwwllllll!"
I take a quick break to clean up whatever allergic reaction I just had to Top Chef's recipe.

DeAnna begins the evening with a simple question: What was your most romantic date? Robert lunges into an epic story of how he chartered a helicopter tour of Vegas for his ex-fiancee, ordered a bazillion roses to be thrown about their hotel room and spell "I Love You," and how he bought a small island with his life's savings just to prove his love. Fred tells DeAnna about a jaunt up to Lake Geneva, Wisconsin that he took with his girlfriend.

Top Chef Alone Time
"I'm a big believer in the passionate side of the relationship," Top Chef slobbers. "Can I kiss you?"
"Um, how about right here?" DeAnna diverts the kiss to her cheek.

Top Chef knows she's into him. "I can feel that. I can read people."

DeAnna: What do you do if there's a problem in a relationship?
Robert: I dump the broad and turn on my super-tongue radar to find another girl to tongue. I am, uh, puh-retty awesome.
DeAnna: Um, okay.

Robert, off camera: There's a connection. We can both feel it.

Fred's Alone Time
Fred thinks the more time he gets with DeAnna, the more he could actually fall for this girl. (Um, shouldn't you have already fallen for her?) Fred wants DeAnna to know that he's just here for her. Like everyone else. Fred says he knows DeAnna has a lot going on in her heart, but he asks her to leave a little part of it for him.

Back at the house, the men are happy they're not on this date. Jeremy describes some complicated math about how Dude A could be half the man that Dude B is, but DeAnna might have two times the amount of attraction to Dude A than she does to Dude B. And if you take the square root of that amount, and then find its derivative and graph it, you'll find that the curve on the graph looks a lot like Jeremy's profile.

Back at some ABC exec's house, DeAnna quickly and painlessly tells Robert that he is not getting the rose. Robert raises his eyebrows, tells us he's not used to rejection and cannot believe he misread their connection.

DeAnna returns to tell Fred how amazing he is, what a big heart he has, and what a good head he has on his shoulders, but that she does not see forever with them. She drops the B-word again (psst! It's "Brad!") and that she cannot lead him on. She doesn't want to hurt him because she thinks he's one of the best men there. Fred, very sweetly, says it's okay and that he wants her to have the very best and, when she apologizes again, that she can't feel anything different than what she's supposed to.

Back at the house, the boys watch as ABC homeboy comes in and grabs both sets of bags. Everyone freaks out.

Jason is the only men left at the mansion, so he greets DeAnna with open arms when she comes home. Even I want to melt into his arms and tell him how hard my day was. Jason says he really felt great being able to comfort to her.

Cocktail Party
The men are shakin' in their boots about yesterday's dramas. Sean is wearing a zoot suit for confidence.

The men quiz Jason about what happened when she got home from her dates. Jesse downs Scotch when he hears how well things went for Jason. The other men glare.

Brian pulls DeAnna aside to try to tell her how much he cares about her. Jesse, channeling his inner-eighth grader, watches at the window and whispers to the guys that Brian is holding DeAnna's hand.

Twigs makes a last ditch effort to show DeAnna that he cares for her.

Graham tries to make amends. "I don't verbalize things very well," says Graham. Understatement of the series! DeAnna says she doesn't want to be confused about why he's here. Graham, prompted by the producers who are holding up cue cards to help him, says: "I'm... uh.... here for... uh, wait, hold it up higher...I'm here for.... you. Oh, right! I'm here for you!" He smiles. DeAnna melts at these words, grabs Graham's face and starts chowing down on it.

Meanwhile, my roommate and I shout at the TV that Graham is that guy that is going to hurt her and she's only trying to make things work between them! But that we know he's so hot, so it's okay, we understand what she's going through. We can sense it through the TV.

DeAnna decides to take the edge off the party with a pool party. They all have a great time until Chris "Not Even Floaties Can Save You" Harrison comes to break up the party.

Rose Ceremony
Chris "I Pity the Foo' Who Goes Home" Harrison tells the guys he understands what the men are going through and how rough it's been, so that's why all the good boys were rewarded with a pool party. Next time, they may get cookies and an extra recess. But no promises.

Roses:

Sean
Jesse
Jason
Jeremy
Twigs?!!!!
Graham

Poor Silver Fox Brian gets sent home. Did she forget his song!?!! The House of My Pay-yay-yayannnne!!! I l personally loved it. Brian says he was disappointed because he had so much to look forward to with DeAnna, that she is beautiful, thoughtful and self-assured. Brian says he is a better person because of the time he spent here, but that he recognizes that he got too chummy with other guys.

Next week, more pool parties! Overnight adventures in Palm Springs! Sean and Graham make out with DeAnna in hammocks! Not at the same time! DeAnna tells all! Already???

Welcome to the One Hundred Fortieth Floor

2008-06-09T15:46:00.004-05:00

The hypothetical view from the top floor of the Chicago Spire. Why, God? Why?

Also, if I still can't see the Michigan shoreline from this high up, then I'm not interested.