Monday, August 4, 2008

Trouble in Monkeytown

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]

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Cello Song

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.


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Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Life Lessons in the Lunchroom

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.

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Ughhhh cuuuuuuuute

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

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Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Uptown Theatre Sold!

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!

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Sunday, July 27, 2008

Funny Girls

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

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Friday, July 25, 2008

And!

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!!


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A Mega-Recap

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!

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Thursday, July 24, 2008

Why did the peacock cross the road?

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?

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Friday, July 18, 2008

It's here!

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!

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