Sometimes Craigslist's ads for free things reveal more than the poster maybe intended.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
I don't know if you heard...
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?)
Monday, January 12, 2009
The Bachelor: Jason, episode 2
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
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.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Thinkin' on Lincoln
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.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
The Holidays Keep Me Busy
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!
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Just another day in Chicago
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.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Another Year
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.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
I'm Dreaming of a Long-Haired, Head-Banging, Synth-Fueled Christmas
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.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Keeping in Mind
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.
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