After Cap and Gown

Dogs and the Internet

2012-02-07T21:22:00.000-08:00

Whoa, I am back, for this moment in time! Actually, I made a decision to stay up for the midnight replay of "Dance Moms" (I missed it at 8 because I was at piloxing class, but more on that later) and I'm currently powering through the "Teen Mom Unseen Moments" Dr. Drew special, which is an hour of Jenelle screaming about how boring rehab is and Chelsea playing dress-up. Snore!

Boyfriend and I have been discussing the possibility of adopting a pet. Specifically, a dog. I never had a dog, but Boyfriend had one once. I had a cat, who was the best cat in the world, except he was born minus a kidney and had a lot of medical problems. Sadness. I'm not really a "dog person," actually, but I like certain dogs after I get to know them. One thing I will absolutely never be is a dog person on the Internet. In looking at potential new furry friends, I have discovered a whole online world of dog people. In this world, Y2K is still around the corner, and all web sites look like personal AOL web pages. There are also comment threads that resemble 10-year-old chat rooms, filled with people who talk for hours about dog breeds and high-kill shelters. To me, this was an even stranger discovery than trendy Mormons. Who are these people? I think that they run dog adoption centers, but are they crazy people, or normal human beings? The world may never know.

A final post before I disappear forever, or not!

2011-08-31T17:30:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I talked to my grandma on the phone (shout out to Nana!) and she asked me this serious question: "When are you going to post something new on your blog? I am just very tired of looking at that fat man!" She was of course referring to Gary Shirley, as pictured half-naked in the post below this one. While it probably would have been pretty fitting to vanish from the blogosphere with nothing left behind except a memory of Teen Mom Tuesday, I have decided to honor Nana's wishes and post something here, so that maybe you don't have to look at Gary unless you scroll down a bit. The woman did give me life, indirectly.

So what can we talk about? OH RIGHT. How about, FORGET TEEN MOM TUESDAY. That's right. I actually did forget Teen Mom Tuesday last night, and came to the realization that hey, I have a life now! Mostly. But the other reason we can forget Teen Mom Tuesday is that there are new moms in town that are bringing me more joy than Amber Portwood can, at this point, because her custody battle is just so damn depressing, people. So who are these new moms?

If you are not watching Dance Moms, you are missing out on a truly remarkable cultural experience. Dance Moms is the true story of mother-daughter relationships, show business, unbelievably disposable incomes and pre-teen angst in the suburbs of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. It stars the ruthless Abby Lee, of the Abby Lee Dance Company, who is both villain and sole voice of (from time to time) reason in this riveting drama that poses the perpetually unanswered question, "Why aren't these children in school?" If Abby Lee were to answer that question, her answer would probably be, "Because I create Broadway performers, and also I dropped out of school inexplicably at the age of fourteen to start a dance company, and now I'm making bank off insane stage mothers who were too focused on useless frivolities like 'education' and 'things besides dancing' to become the stars I knew they could have been."

Self-proclaimed "Dance Moms" include Christi, Melissa, Kelly, Cathy and Holly. Christi mostly gets drunk and screams at Melissa about how jealous she is of Melissa's daughter, Maddie, who is the most talented girl of all and will be starring in the new Broadway production of Annie (probably) in 3...2...1...

Mostly the mothers sit in a strange viewing area above the dance studio called the OBSERVATION MEZZANINE, sewing sequins onto toddler-sized sports bras and watching their daughters pas de bourée their childhoods away. Also, no one likes Cathy, because she is a complete nut job and has a confusingly ethnic-looking daughter who was either adopted or trafficked into Pennsylvania in exchange for dance trophies. These situations are equally plausible.

Besides gossiping and knitting their lives away, the mothers do little else besides argue with/yell at Abby in response to Abby's "creativity." This tends to happen immediately prior to or following performances, despite the fact that the mothers have literally done nothing else for weeks but watch their daughters perform the exact numbers they suddenly decide to hate. Reasons why the Dance Moms disapprove of Abby's dance numbers vary, but past examples have included: the only black girl in the group (Holly's daughter, who goes to private school and puts Malia Obama's J.Crew wardrobe to shame) performing a solo number called "LaQuifa," dressed in a leopard print body suit and wearing a dollar-store afro wig; girls being dressed as actual prostitutes to perform a number at the one dance competition located within walking distance of an Amish community; a dance called "Where Have All the Children Gone?" which was essentially an interpretive dance based on Nancy Grace's body of work and featuring the girls pretending to be abducted or kill themselves in between chassés.

This is truly one for the Lifetime Network history books, my friends, and like I said, if you have not tuned in, you are missing out.

With that, I leave you. You know where to find me (on Wonkette!) and maybe I will return one day. If you want to know why I am taking this hiatus you can contact me directly. If the Dance Moms do anything worth writing about again, perhaps I shall return.

UNTIL NEXT TIME,

Your totally unfaithful blogger,

MOI.

Blair and Bagels Liveblog/Chat TMT

2011-07-12T19:17:00.000-07:00

Oh yea, little illegitimate baby! It's TMT - that's Teen Mom Tuesday. We are ten minutes into episode deux, and Bagels and I are already discussing online. It might be hard to follow because I am watching the current episode and poor Bagels is stuck watching last week's online, because he doesn't have a television in his sad intern apartment. But I am an adult, which means I get to watch MTV reality trash live, not on a silly laptop!

Here's Bagels (in pink), giving us last week's news. I am in green, responding.

BLAIR.

the opening to the farrah storyline

IS AMAZING

"my mother has made big strides in our relationships, some i'm ready for the next step"

to sophia: what do you think about mommy getting a boob job?

I really enjoyed when Ryan asked Maci if her new boyfriend was "slow."

"Oh my God, Gary, you are so chunky." - The nicest and most grammatically correct thing Amber Portwood has ever said.

ALSO

the loan for the breast implants?

really

who approves that

hahaha

is that a specialized job?

I'm sure in Iowa there are special family-run God-friendly boob loan offices

get a loan for your new tits and some salvation

i like how she is hesitant to put her mother as the guardian

OH BOY OH BOY amber and gary just started yelling for no apparent reason

do they get a bonus for this from mtv?

gary is bringing up amber's daddy issues

he is counting the amount of "cuss words" she screams in front of leah

HAHAHHAHHA

yessssss

he just threatened to take custody

I swear I blinked and they went from a happy family to this disaster

yeh i feel this is pre-charges

omg, she makes a fist at gary in FRONT OF THE MARRIAGE COUNSELOR

unreal

"i dont want to hit him, it's just a lot of stress and im very depressed because he got me pregnant at the age of 17"

they just got in a screaming fight, and i just figured out that they were on the way to their vacation

but now Gary is telling her she is beautiful and a great mother, so that she doesn't kill him

hahahhahahah

Maci: you need to start trusting me

Maci's mother: Well we used to, and then we got Bentley

commercial break

Oh. my. word.

There is a new show on ABC Family called

wait for it

Cyberbully

...

is this a series?

yes.

is this a non glamorous gossip girl?

This doesn't sound like it has very much potential

I don't even want to watch someone get Internet harassed for 5 minutes, so I definitely don't want to watch an entire SHOW of someone

haha will it just be some girl on AIM, sobbing?

omg

5 dollars there is a first episode suicide

maybe children don't use AIM anymore

ALSO

DEGRASSI IS INSANE

oh that is five dollars in your pocket

Amber: You know Gary, he's frickin' retarded.

Amber's cousin: You guys are both retarded in my eyes.

Amber: It's a lose lose situation

hahahahhahaha

omg

when is the amber gets arrested episode

hopefully soon

right now they are at the water park

omg

amber with the duh statement of the episode

"i have a baby"

ha ha who did she say that to?

Maci and her white trash James Franco are probably going to get it on at some point

the sexual tension is building

Ohhh damn you MTV! I will probably watch the Adoption Special

so I can see a day in the life of Carly

there is an adoption special

nyc roommate hates them

"they gave up their baby, they need to get over it"

What!

so rude

I love Catelynn and Tyler except I don't really want to watch them anymore

it's depressing to see their meth head mom verbally abuse them

"their mom" because it's important to remember that they are step siblings

hahahahahhahahah

is it confirmed she does meth

Probably not

my personal speculation

apparently maci is considered the glamorous one

haha i saw that

Well, the bar has not been set very high

Yup, that's all we have for you tonight. There is a Dr. Drew special now...get out the Kleenex for the Baby Carly segment.

I missed Teen Mom but I sort of learned to cook Chinese food.

2011-07-07T17:33:00.000-07:00

I now have three jobs and I will probably collapse soon. If someone were to find my collapsed body this minute they would find me on the couch, barefoot, with an empty glass of wine on the coffee table next to an empty bowl of pasta, because I have no other food besides Twizzlers and cabbage. I would like to go to bikram yoga like I used to, when I had this thing called Time, but Time no longer exists. Also police/whoever would find me would also find the apartment to be a complete mess, so I apologize. I was really counting on my sister coming to stay here tonight (she is visiting) so I could somehow convince her that it is her sisterly duty to help me clean! I hope she does not read this; it might ruin my plan.

On Monday, I watch a small child for 10 hours. On Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, I work at my undisclosed desk job. Fridays I have off, but I usually spend at least part of them (and afternoons of the other days) tutoring. I blog on l'autre blog on all these days. Ha ha, and yet, I still have no fundz. How does that work, exactly?

I was really, really upset for about 30 seconds yesterday when I realized that I had completely forgotten about the new season of Teen Mom. And this is Teen Mom with the ORIGINAL cast. Amber and Farrah and Maci and Catelynn. I caught the last 15 minutes when MTV was replaying it last night and I probably saw all I needed to see. Farrah was writing her will because of some mysterious surgery she was about to undergo, and I thought, "What is wrong with her? Does she have a tumor or something? Did the sassy thoughts in her brain cause her head to explode?" Oh, no, she was just getting a boob job. Meanwhile, Amber and Gary told each other they loved each other on the phone, while Gary watched Baby Leah and Amber drove over to her ex-convict boyfriend's house to break up with him. Bagels told me that Amber is/was on suicide watch, or something, which is not hard to believe, but I'm sure she managed to come out of it just fine, after a lot of whining and inappropriate language screamed over the phone, at Gary.

Last night, Erica and I went to a dumpling-making class at one of the restaurants down the street from me! It was awesome, because you have to spend about 10 minutes folding up the dumplings, then they take them away and cook them and serve plates upon plates of other delicious food. So I wouldn't necessarily say that I learned a whole lot about how to properly cook dumplings, but I got to eat lots of fried things, so it was worth it.

Summer begins in the city.

2011-06-29T19:46:00.000-07:00

I think summer is here now. Last night I took Domi to see Ferris Bueller at Fulton River Park. We packed a picnic of watermelon, chicken wings, and cookies. Plus there is free popcorn at the Movies in the Parks. The park happens to be across the street from a chocolate factory, so it smelled like chocolate the whole night. I think the chocolate factory sponsored the movie, because before the movie itself we had to watch a 10 minute infomercial about how they produce their chocolates and how they help West African farmers. I was too distracted by the smell of chocolate to pay attention.

Tonight I went on a bike ride, but first I had to go to the CVS back down in Hyde Park. On my way in I got harassed by two guys with clipboards and matching red jackets. The first one was sitting by the Shawn Michelle ice cream truck. I think we made eye contact for a fraction of a second and then I pretended not to hear him as he said, "Hey. Hey. Hey I want to talk to you," like he was cool enough to get a date that way even though he couldn't even get a signature that way. The second one was right outside the CVS entrance. At this point I had been in the car for about 45 minutes after a whole day of work and I really just wanted to go home. This is how the second exchange went.

Clipboard guy: Hey, there you are, I like listening and long walks on the beach -
Me: I REALLY can't do this today.
Clipboard guy: But it's for a poetry slam!

Has anyone ever changed someone's mind by reminding them that it's for a poetry slam?

Don't care. SUMMER!

Pride

2011-06-27T08:32:00.000-07:00

Fun weekend! Yesterday was Pride. It was fantastic, and those grandmas with the signs made me teary-eyed. It's unfortunate that Lakeview immediately following the parade looks like a post-apocalyptic world filled with old ladies slipping on puddles of liquor and people screaming, "I'm not Gaga! Don't call me Gaga!"

"Do you think 'Pride was yesterday' is a valid call-in for work?" - the one and only Bagels.

That is Mayor Rahm, pointing!

avec Boyfriend.

So...if you're June...why are you cold?

2011-06-23T20:12:00.000-07:00

I just got finished filling in the Blair & Boyfriend Money Spreadsheet. Ugh, paying the bills. What a way to spend a Thursday night. You know where I'm not spending it? Outside. Because it is 65 degrees and it might rain! I'm not going to complain about this weather, even though it is really sending my SADD (look it up, people) into high gear. Someone on that damn Facebook posted a morbid story from The Weather Channel (I didn't even know they wrote stories! I thought they chased storms!) about how because of La Nina or some crap - and I'm showing my disapproval of abnormal weather by neglecting to insert the proper character for "Nina" - the Midwest is not going to experience summer this year. It's just going to be cold and rain, forever.

But I am really sick of talking about the weather, because talking about the weather is for people who are surrounded by acquaintances rather than close friends, like I tend to be much of the time.
"What is with this weather? I mean, come on!"
"I know! I thought summer in Chicago was supposed to be amazing!"
"I heard it's supposed to get nice this weekend, though."
"Oh, really?"
"Well it's supposed to get nice and then rain."
"Oh..."
"..."

And so it goes. Let's move on! Last weekend was totally fun. I decided to give my mind a vacation from stress, and you know what? It worked. I was very happy and stress-free all weekend long. Last Friday, I went to bikram because as you know, I'm addicted. I rode my bike there which was really tough because I use my sorority bag, which is this plastic material and completely falling apart. The straps are hanging by a thread. So I had to carry that, with all my stuff in it, so I was already sweaty by the time I arrived. And this is fine because I'm completely drenched in sweat as soon as it starts, anyway. Yeah, wonderful, I know! And after class, I walked over to the nearest frozen yogurt place, got an original with strawberry and banana, and sat on the patio and enjoyed it. And then I rode my bike to the 31st Street Beach, which is sort of difficult to bike to after 90 minutes of bikram yoga and while carrying a giant bag. But I made it, and I just plopped right down in the sand. This is all I had been wanting to do the whole week leading up to that Friday. I told everyone, "All I want to do is lie down in the sand!" And so I did. It was the last day of school for CPS, so there were kids all over the place! There were three cute little girls who decided to make themselves into a "secret club," and started making up secret club passwords. Then there was a creepy kid who made himself a fort out of seagull feathers after he had been running around foraging for them. It was pretty gross!

On Saturday, Boyfriend and I took a mini road trip to Woodstock, Illinois. Do you know Woodstock, Illinois? This is where they filmed Groundhog Day. It is about two hours outside Chicago. Boyfriend was so excited when we finally got into the town square! He yelled, "Oh! That's where Bill Murray tried to kill himself!" After actually being in that town, Groundhog Day seems a lot darker than it used to. I was especially disappointed to find out that this so-called "traditional" town square did not have one ice cream shop. There was this crazy store filled with fairies, state-themed plates and jars of apple butter that also sold ice cream, and whatever, it was good. But the ice cream shop was replaced with a place called "Albanian Breaded Chicken." That was the name of the restaurant. I sure hope it was good Albanian chicken.

After Boyfriend and I had made about four laps around the town square (this took about 20 minutes) we still wanted to drive around. We discovered that Woodstock is only 15 minutes from the Wisconsin border! And I had never been to Wisconsin, and I wanted to go! So we drove there. And we saw this:

On Sunday, I had to play kickball again. Surprise, surprise, we lost. However, I did get an RBI and I even scored a run! And, following tradition, I got sunburned and woke up the following day feeling like I had been hit by a truck, due to the sprinting, I guess? Why does kickball hurt so much?! Hilariously, they let everyone enter the playoffs, so we could technically still win the championship. Ugh. I just want it to end. Later on Sunday, Boyfriend and I took a water taxi from the Chinatown stop up to River North, because we felt like it! And then we got pizza in Wicker Park at one of my favorite pizza places.

Tomorrow I am taking my Burundian sis to Loyola to make sure she can find her summer English classes! How exciting!

Happy Thursday evening, my friends.

Bad News Blair (In Kickball, That Is)

2011-06-12T20:37:00.000-07:00

Hello, world. It's after 10 on Sunday and I still have work to do, yippeeeee. I have to clean the apartment, because my stuff is evah-ree-where. I also have to do dishes, but I do not mind this because Boyfriend made dinner tonight. He went to Whole Food$ and cooked up a storm while I cleaned the layers of sweat off myself from Bikram. Dinner was delicious. Infinity boyfriend points for Boyfriend!

The weather this weekend was not super great! It rained on Friday, but it didn't ruin any plans because Boyfriend and I had to go down to Hyde Park to clean the old apartment, as our lease ended Friday at 11:59 PM. It was sort of difficult to get the Christmas tree needles off the carpet with our non-functioning vacuum but we managed, and now that lease is up and hopefully we don't have to deal with that anymore. I have enough trouble keeping this place looking respectable.

Saturday was glorious because I slept in. I never sleep in. Until Saturday, I don't think I had slept past 8:00 AM in months. I had plans to go to Zumba in Millenium Park with my friend Erica, because we are really curious about Zumba and what it is all about. But Erica was sick and it was rainy-ish, so when my alarm went off at 8:00 and I saw the text message from Erica, I said "HELL TO THE NO!" and went back to sleep. And then it was a relaxing day of watching "True Life: I have Tourette's Syndrome" on MTV while eating Maple Blondie ice cream and making a birthday card for my friend. Saturday night Boyfriend and I went to said friend's birthday fiesta, and it was great. This friend is a kitchen goddess and really makes my culinary attempts look ridiculous. She did not disappoint with her delicious sangria and perfect hostess-ing, of course.

Today I had kickball and it was awful. So, so terrible. Erica and I signed up in the winter - it's one of those social/sports clubs that costs $100 and is for losers who don't have friends (like me!). The idea of kickball is fun, and our teammates are nice. We are definitely the youngest...apparently we shouldn't have trouble finding friends until our 30s. But our team is so bad. We have lost all of our games, including a game to a team with players who were smoking cigarettes while kicking and running the bases. This girl was smoking in my face while at second. I did not shell out a massive chunk of my paycheck to lose kickball and get cancer! Thankfully, the only guy on our team with some semblance of skill chucked the ball at her and got her outta there. He has been MVP every single game (according to us yelling, "Hey! Yeah! MVP woohoo!") but that probably means very little when we haven't scored a single run since day one.

Now I'm either going to clean the apartment, practice kickball, or delay my other blog-writing duties for another hour or so...

Title thingy.

2011-06-09T13:45:00.000-07:00

I think it's finally time that I change that title thingy at the top of this blog thingy to something besides "Making the transition from keggers to cubicles and trying not to go crazy." First of all, I've been out of college for about a year and a half now. But more importantly, I was never really one for "keggers." I mean, I went to them, sure. But when I graduated from college, I didn't instantly think, "Oh, no! No more kegs!" One time, my friend did a keg stand and we thought it was hilarious. I never did one, for a few reasons. I think they mostly had to do with a fear of being dropped, resulting in lowered self-esteem to an uncomfortable degree. But also I probably would have choked and died from trying to drink upside down.

So what is my new title thingy going to be? How about:

"Hangin' in there."
or, alternatively,
"Do you have a dollar?"

Hmm...perhaps not. I will think of something now. If you think it is dumb, please let me know so I can change it...OR NOT.

Getting to Know the Internet with Blair

2011-06-02T16:54:00.000-07:00

I'm trying this new thing where I make use of "social media" and "the Internet" to communicate, and I have to put " " there because this is how I demonstrate that I do not take these things seriously. Here is reason #1 why I do not take these things seriously:

Why is Anderson Cooper, a "respected journalist," telling a bunch of nobodies what is happening at some McDonalds? How embarrassing for him, and for the world! But apparently this is what people do these days, and if the stars of Teen Mom can successfully navigate the Twitter, then I should be able to do so, right? Or maybe they have people to manage their Twitters for them...based on the content put up on a regular basis, though, I pray they do not.

I am tired, but I must go to bikram in 30 minutes, which means I must eat something now. I am tired because last night I had a very stressful evening involving teenagers. Probably more stories to come.

One final note: I have heard that "hashtags" are things people use on Twitter. I came up with one that I want to use but I can't think of what to do with it. It is: #teachmehowtosnuggie.

Suggestions?

Is it 5:00 yet?

2011-06-01T14:15:00.000-07:00

Okay, perhaps this is not worthy of an entire blog post...but seriously...can I go home now? I mean, I came in this morning, and I've been working...and I just want to be done for the rest of the day. I have plans to make a frozen pizza and watch Mean Girls with Domi (who I often refer to as my little Burundian sister). We might even work on a scrapbook or something.

I forgot to announce something! I am re-entering the world of child care. This will begin at the end of June. Maybe this is just enough time for my bad babysitting memories to dissolve before I have to deal with a kid. She seemed pleasant enough during our meeting. She's almost 2 and she's the only one. The family also seemed normal and reasonable, so there is hope. I did have to laugh at the "Why are you interested in child care?" question. I'm "interviewing" for a once-a-week nanny position because my non-profit work and blogging don't exactly pay the bills. Does it sound like watching your baby is my desired career choice? Well, hey, they hired me, so I won't complain. I think of babysitting as mindless work...but of course you can't say that to a mom or they have panic visions of their child cracking open a head or spine while the babysitter drinks all the booze or makes out on the couch.

Okay, 45 minutes until I peace out and enjoy my pizza and say all of Regina George's lines along with the movie, in my mind. Did I mention that I work three days a week and yesterday I was only in for the afternoon? Kids today and their lack of work ethic...

A 200th Post Celebration!

2011-05-30T22:05:00.000-07:00

Did you know that this is the 200th post of this blog? Neither did I! But when I went to write about what I did this weekend, I saw that there were 199, making this one - you guessed it - number 200! Wow, what an occasion. I feel pressured to make this one extra special...but it's also getting late and I have yoga in the morning. (Yes, I am addicted, and my Groupon ran out so I bought more classes, perhaps cementing my level of poverty until I beat this frightening addiction, or bikram is found to be life-threatening instead of just mildly dangerous.)

Well, as you know, it was Memorial Day weekend. I usually have three or four-day weekends, though, so it wasn't that different for me except that Boyfriend was home an extra day! We planned to commemorate the holiday by watching part of "The Pacific," but then I got a call from one of the girls I work with. She had gone to Houston for some sort of Sudanese "meeting," and was stranded at the airport with no one to pick her up. So Boyfriend came with me to get her, and he was very nice about it even though I always refuse to drive him to the airport, and here we were, going out there to pick up a teenager. He is a good sport, that Boyfriend. And that is why we have been going steady now for three years! Oh, how time flies. It seems like just yesterday I was inviting him to see movies at the Maple Art Theater, thinking maybe he'd realize it was a date (he did not, until a week later, or something...the story is fuzzy now) and now we live in a cool apartment:

Ta da! There 'tis, a photo for your viewing pleasure. Boyfriend and I celebrated our trois ans together at Sable Kitchen + Bar, which was delicious. Last year, Boyfriend told the restaurant we went to that it was our anniversary, and they gave us chocolates and a card that said, "Mr. and Mrs. [Boyfriend]." It was embarrassing and hilarious! This year, we got champagne, free desserts, and random selections from the kitchen, because Boyfriend has to stay in these hotels all the time and is special. After dinner we went to Navy Pier to ride the Waveswinger, which is very fun, even in heels.

Many hours before our celebration dinner, I woke up at the crack of dawn to do Bike the Drive, which is a thing where people ride bikes 30 miles up and down Lake Shore Drive. I did it as a fundraiser for the girl I mentor, who is going to take English classes at Loyola this summer. I was very excited for this bike ride, despite my lack of training. I figured I would be sore, but it would be fine. I did not figure that the bike ride would experience a dense fog situation, and that for 2 1/2 hours, my eyelashes, hands, and entire body would be covered in drops of cold water while I pedaled down the lakefront alone. (I started out with a group, but I have long legs that do not allow me to bike slowly, in a group.) I had to ride my bike home after the race, and immediately took a hot shower that made me feel like my feet were being scalded.

The sun finally came out today, so Boyfriend and I went to my friend's apartment for grillin' and sun and pool. We joked about how we are not in Miami anymore, because everyone is pale! Ha, ha. Also, I read an article in Cosmopolitan magazine called "Things You Should Never Apologize For." I took away something good from this article in that dumb magazine. I never have to apologize for refusing to split the check evenly with the whole table! This is because if you went shopping with a girlfriend and you bought $50 worth of things and she bought $15, it would be outrageous to suggest that you split the cost. Well, thank you, Cosmo, for giving me the confidence I need to be the annoying broke girl at the dinner table with her rich, successful friends. I will probably be that girl for a while, so I am thankful for this insight.

That's all I have for the big 200...thanks for reading all this stuff, yay!

30 Seconds to Fame

2011-05-22T19:47:00.000-07:00

This weekend was a busy one. On Friday I had the usual Girls Group. I help run an after-school thingamajig for teen refugee girls. Last week we took a break from answering questions about whether or not kissing can result in pregnancy to throw a birthday party for one of the gals! It was a sweet time. I always drive some of the girls, and it just so happened that on Friday, the new Red Mango at Loyola was giving out FREE froyo. Red Mango is my absolute favorite. It was near my gym in New York and that is where I developed an addiction. So I shared my addiction with the girls and it was great fun.

Saturday, I saw them all again and spent about 4 hours in the car because we had a Girls Group field trip! We went down to Hyde Park to watch The Chicago Riots practice. Who are they? Oh, they're Chicago's junior roller derby league, made up of teen girls. I thought this was a brilliant idea when I came up with it, but then I started getting nervous that maybe this just seemed like a good idea, and the girls would all be confused and horrified that girls their age were throwing each other to the ground, wearing fishnet tights. But hey! It ended up being a ton o' fun, and the girls had a great time. I want to do roller derby. But what would my name be? I think my favorite was "Ellen Rage." Ha ha GET IT?

Here is my favorite conversation from yesterday, between a derby girl and one of our girls:

Derby girl: So, do you guys have boyfriends?
Domi: (silent pause) Uh... no...
Derby girl: I don't really have a boyfriend. I'm really flirtatious, so I like to keep a lot of guys around.
Domi: (bursts into fit of uncontrollable laughter)

Domi is my homegirl. I started out as her tutor last fall, and now we talk about college plans, apply for scholarships, and go on fun outings.

Saturday was an all-day affair but I finally got home, and then Boyfriend and I wanted to go get dinner. Boyfriend keeps wanting to get dim sum, but this is not something typically served in the evening. We thought we found a place that served it all day, but when we showed up at the restaurant, we discovered that we were mistaken. There were about three women waiting on us in a crazy, overzealous manner, but they were friendly and refilled our waters about a thousand times, so that was nice. I ordered Chinese broccoli, which was on the menu, but apparently caused some confusion. So it was a semi-uncomfortable dinner, but in a funny way, made slightly worse by the Entertainment Tonight farewell special for Mary Hart that was blaring on the televisions in the restaurant.

Then we went out with friends! Boyfriend and I are not super big fans of the River North area...meaning that we both hate it. But Mother Hubbard's was actually fun - we got to watch a fantastic television show called "30 Seconds to Fame."

Maybe you did not hear about this show, because it was on Fox between 2002 and 2003. From what I could gather watching it at the bar with no volume, it is a talent show that relies on audience feedback. It's actually very cruel, because people get up on stage to juggle bowling balls and then the audience screams "BOOOO! BOOOOOO! Get off the stage!" until that person is sent off the stage. I personally enjoyed how each performer was identified by his/her actual profession, as well as his/her talent. "Alan. Plumber. Animal Ventriloquist." "Jennifer. Sales Rep. Eats fire."

'

Why would something this glorious get canceled? You know what I am watching right now? The Real Housewives of Orange County. I would much, much rather be watching this:

But I guess it was just not meant to be.

Better wrap this up 'cause yoga class comes early. Let's hope my commute to yoga is less terrible than last time! This means I should wear shoes that will not snap in two as I am walking to the train, causing me to hobble to my yoga studio in desperation as onlookers stared at my unfortunate condition. My teacher helped me rubber-band my shoe to my foot after class. Addicted to bikram.

Me & My KitchenAid

2011-05-18T18:06:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned yesterday, my mom is moving out of the house where I lived from age 15(ish?) to 17. This is unfortunate because I will no longer be able to have "You Got Served!" watch parties at this house, but it is mostly a good thing, because I got lots of great furniture and kitchen appliances out of the deal!

One of these appliances is the KitchenAid. This KitchenAid is old and enormous - I believe it is "industrial sized," or something - and it even malfunctions! It will keep spinning and spinning unless you unplug it. But I really wanted this KitchenAid, and I believe that together, we will achieve great things. I decided to embark upon our new life together last night, when I realized that since the girl I tutor called me to reschedule and I had already decided to take a day off from yoga, I had very little to do besides play Sims 3 and wait for The Daily Show to come on. I am not ashamed by this admission. So I realized that my night was wide open! I could do absolutely anything! So I drove to Dominick's at 8:30, snuck in the exit door since they had already locked the entrance, and purchased ingredients to make oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

Like many people, I saw Bridesmaids last Friday. Damn good movie. Hilarious. But all that aside, I refuse to believe that Kristen Wiig is really capable of baking a perfect cupcake or a beautiful carrot-shaped cake. Absolutely not. As much as this movie probably did for all the great female writers and comedians and actresses out there, it is still feeding into the stereotype that all women - especially desperate women - have some sort of amazing skill that will endear them to others. In Bridesmaids, Kristen Wiig's character's life is just plummeting down a hill covered in thorns and hyena carcasses. But then she meets that cop who likes her because she's nice and funny and can bake.

Think about how often this occurs! In that 90s movie with Freddie Prinze Jr., the nerd girl is pretty much a freak except that she's a brilliant artist. PLEASE.

We need to stop perpetuating the myth that all the nerds and weirdos out there are hiding some special quality deep inside their hearts! It just makes it harder for all the nerds and weirdos without special qualities, or most of them. And sure, maybe you can name a few female characters without secret special talents. There's Carrie Bradshaw. She couldn't cook, she was horrible with children, her writing would make Ann Brashares barf, and she hated the outdoors. But she also slept with a whole lot of dudes, so she didn't really need a talent.

So anyway, back to my KitchenAid story. Last night, I spent a while thinking about my ability to start a business. I decided that whatever business I started, cookies would probably be involved. So I needed to prove to myself that I could bake cookies from scratch. I needed to prove that if a fictional character in a movie about a wedding that is 60% gross bodily humor could make a cupcake, I could bake a cookie!

And bake, I did. The first batch was a little messy, but that's mostly because I got excited after they came out of the oven and I attempted to move them off the pan before they were ready. Amateur mistake, I guess. But the rest of them came out splendidly! So I say to you, people who think you aren't as cool as all the fake-nerds in the books and movies because you don't secretly have the ability to talk to animals or paint a masterpiece, take a stand! It is not that hard to do these things. Anyone can bake oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, once you figure out where they keep the oats in the grocery store.

The Official ACAG Revival

2011-05-17T17:14:00.000-07:00

This past weekend (my weekends now last 4-5 days, and yet Tuesday mornings are still rough) my mother came to visit me in Chicago! She drove a massive Uhaul truck from Michigan to bring me and Boyfriend a bunch of fancy furniture that we could not otherwise afford, thanks to a thing called "selling the house." It all looks fantastic, we had a fun visit, and I am so glad that she came! Promise pictures will come soon...maybe a video tour?

While my mother was here, she criticized me about two things:

1) Continuing to wear boots, purchased at Target, that are literally falling apart. There are holes in them. I think she said, "I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I think those boots have probably seen better days." Sadly, I was totally aware of the situation, but have chosen to feign ignorance and wear my raggedy boots around town, pretending that boots with holes in them are cool in Chinatown, and you just don't understand.
2) Neglecting le blog.

It is probably good that she complained about my lack of blogging, because it reminded me that I actually like doing this! I like telling you people, whoever you are, about the mundane/occasionally interesting happenings of mi vida. I thought harder about it last night during bikram yoga, even though we're not supposed to think about things - just focus on our breathing, or something - oh well! I considered deleting all previous posts, save a few of my personal faves, and start fresh. But apparently I have nearly 200 posts on here! I forgot that this blog began right after I graduated from college (hence the title) and so it is over two years old. AHH! I have been out of college more than two years! That is...something. For those of you just joining me now, though, let's do a re-cap:

I graduated from college in December '09 with a degree in journalism and American Studies. Ha ha, that is not a joke!
I moved back to Michigan from sunny (and often rainy and filled with cockroaches) Miami and interned at two places, simultaneously.
One time, at one of the internships, people started reading my blog and the funny things I wrote about them, and they enjoyed it, I think, until my boss locked me in a room and told me to stop doing that, because I could hurt someone's feelings.
This freaked me out, because I always made fun of people/interns who got in trouble for blogging about work, and also Boyfriend told me not to do it, and he likes to brag about these things.
Since the publishing world continued to suck and not hire, I decided to stick with non-profits.
Boyfriend got a job in Chicago, and a month or two later, I also got a job in Chicago, with a non-profit.
Then one day, I also got a job writing about FLOTUS!
Boyfriend and I moved to Chicago, and although I originally enjoyed my job, it eventually sucked out my soul, chopped it into bits, and vomited it out into a gutter.
I got a new job! We got a new apartment, in Chinatown!

And here we are. I'm still not going to blog specifics about where I work during the day, but I'm going to be a little more open about the rest of it, because this is my life. It's not always that entertaining - like today, I worked, and then I came home and ate leftovers from "Three Happiness," which is a restaurant here in my new 'hood. At first I thought, ha ha, that name does not make sense. But Chinese broccoli and crispy chicken will make you realize that it does.

So thanks, Mom, for driving the truck and reminding me to get back on le blog. You da best!

HERE I AM!

2011-05-09T10:26:00.000-07:00

Hey, "followers," I am alive! I am at work right now...yikes. Just wanted to report in and say the move is mostly done. Near death this weekend as Boyfriend and I bought a bookshelf that did not safely fit into my CRV, and Boyfriend proceeded to drive on the freeway with his knees smushed against the dash. But we made it back with the bookshelf and without any injuries, somehow. Things are still undergoing some "remodeling," if you will. That means that we also hung curtains this weekend, which probably won't fall on me while I'm sleeping. You see, we went all the way out to IKEA this weekend to get the window hardware, and one of the pieces ended up being sort of broken. But because I was delirious and angry at all of our household appliances due to post-move-in stress, I demanded that Boyfriend use the broken materials to hang the second curtain, so we would be spared another trip out to Bolingbrook, IL, home of IKEA and puppy mills. It seems pretty sturdy, though!

So...Chinatown. It is great so far! It takes me two minutes to get to the train, there are Chinese restaurants, and FROYO. Focus in on the froyo. I can't say anything negative about Chinatown because then Boyfriend will accuse me of being racist! Sad truth. We're right by every single type of rail transportation that exists in this city, so I'm going to have to get used to the train noises. The CTA is not loud at all, but that Metra is a beast.

No photos until the whole thing is ready! Then I shall post. Here's some other good news, apartment-relevant: we have a working stove! I can now cook things. Hoorah!

A Post Before a Post

2011-04-27T20:48:00.000-07:00

While I was in Michigan for Easter last weekend, mi madre reminded me that I've only had a few blog posts in the entire month of April. Apparently this is a problem because le blog is how my mother keeps up with my life. I reminded her that I talk to her almost daily and she decided that I was probably right.

As I mentioned earlier, I got a new job, and this is week two! It's going very well, but it is also keeping me extremely busy. Add my new addiction to bikram yoga into the mix, and I have a daily schedule that involves waking up at 7, getting home twelve hours later, and wanting to do nothing else in my few hours of free time besides develop an emotional attachment to The Real World. Yes, I've even given up Teen Mom blogging, but that's only partially because of my constant exhaustion. It's also because I think we've all had enough Teen Mom.

Boyfriend and I are moving on Sunday, which is funny, ha ha, because tonight he asked me, "How's the packing coming?" and I LAUGHED OUT LOUD and said, "WHAT PACKING!??!" and did my part to remind him that I don't have time to box up our entire apartment because I am never in our apartment, except to eat and sleep and leave it a mess. It's a good thing we're moving out because I've completely lost control of the apartment. It's about to be a TLC special up in here.

Maybe some super hott apartment pix after this weekend? I should mention that Boyfriend and I are in a custody battle over the taxidermy. The battle is that he wants us to have joint custody and I want him to have sole custody, in the office/den area. Suggestions on how to solve this disagreement are very welcome!

New Jobs and Coupons

2011-04-14T09:31:00.000-07:00

I would like to get away from starting every single post with "Wow! It sure has been a while since I got around to doing this" so I'll just start with:

I got a new job!

Yeah, I'm pretty, pretty jazzed about it. It's going to be awesome. I mean, I really don't know how it will be, at all, but I can only imagine that it will be awesome. Since I have come to the realization that my work goals and blogging goals do not really intersect harmoniously, I will refrain from telling you where I will be working and what I will be doing so that I can continue to rant about "Teen Mom" and complain about whatever without (hopefully) repercussions. But let's BE HAPPY because I am moving on. Don't worry, though, this has nothing to do with my commitment to FLOTUS Filing, which is still going strong. Although this presidency has had its disappointments, I really can't begin to think about what will/could happen come 2012, as I'm not prepared to handle the onslaught of insane potential FLOTUSes...FLOTi?

On an entirely different note, there is something that I sort of want to blog about but also really do not want to mention because I want to pretend that I'm too cool to even know this sort of thing exists. By "this sort of thing" I mean "Extreme Couponing," TLC's latest horror.

I'm not above admitting that I watch TLC. I watch it for a few specific reasons: 1) I like seeing what kind of hideous dresses women pick out on "Say Yes to the Dress," and it's perfect for when I wake up on a Saturday morning at 8:00 and can't fall back asleep, but don't really want to accomplish anything. 2) When I need to get motivated to clean the apartment, that show about hoarders really does the trick. I look over at the pile of magazines on the kitchen counter and act fast, because one day it's a stack of Time Out Chicagos, and the next it's trying to lift your 300 pound self off the roach nest of a couch you have been living on for thirty years so that you can find year-old cream cheese to feed to your "pet" rat. 3) I am waiting for shit to go down on "Sister Wives." Most of the time, these people seem like they are living the good life. Their house has three kitchens, for goodness sake. And they are always going on fun field trips. But then there are times when I am so ready for one of the kids to find a big bag of cocaine in Kody Brown's briefcase, because, I mean...come on. At the same time, I'm a little freaked out by how much some of the things the Sister Wives say make sense. I start to wonder if their little arrangement is really that weird after all. Then I remember that there are ~~three~~ four women sharing a husband who has had a thousand children with each of them, and I feel a little better.

So when Bagels was all, "Blair, 'Extreme Couponing' will change your life," I was all, "I refuse." But on Sunday, I wasn't quite ready to call it a night after "Sister Wives," and I may or may not have been in the midst of a The Sims 3 career move, so I stayed in the living room and kept the TV on for juuuust a few minutes too many.

"Extreme Couponing" is a show about insane women who spend hours upon hours finding and organizing coupons so that they can go on 4-hour long grocery errands and create ridiculous and "extreme"-ly unnecessary stockpiles of laundry detergent and Ore Ida waffle fries under their kids' beds.

This concept makes NO SENSE to me. First of all, the woman from the above clip claimed that she started her obsessive coupon disorder when her husband lost his job, and she was worried that she would not be able to "maintain the lifestyle" to which she had become accustomed. Here's an idea: GET A JOB. Think of all the hours you have spent hunched over your coupons and your calculator and your grocery aisle spreadsheets. Now imagine you instead dedicated those hours to doing something where you received monetary compensation for your work. You might end up with a paycheck, as opposed to fifty bottles of Pantene Pro-V. Also, why do these women have to keep going on shopping trips when they have enough supplies stashed in their homes to last five thousand nuclear holocausts? I. just. don't. understand.

I'm embarrassed to admit that this show did make me realize that I never use or look for coupons, ever. So yesterday I went to the Dominick's web site and found out that it provides personalized coupons based on your previous transactions. It was unsettling how much this computer program knew about my grocery preferences, but I was grateful for the coupons for frozen pizza, ice cream, and Mexican cheese. Unfortunately, this online savings thing also told me that next time I used my Dominick's card, I would get a free dozen eggs! Last night I finally had to go to the grocery store, because I didn't have any food besides Boyfriend's Japanese soda and some pasta. Now, I didn't really need eggs. When I make omelettes or scrambled eggs, I use egg beaters, because I'm a girl, okay?! And I'm trying to be healthy. But I wanted those free eggs! So I grabbed what I thought were the free eggs and went to the check out. But when I looked at my receipt, I noticed that the eggs I purchased were a little over $2 - not free! The girl at the checkout told me I had picked up the wrong eggs, so then I had to take my groceries over to customer service and get the girl there to refund the money TO MY FOOD STAMP CARD so I could go and get the free eggs. All of this at almost 9 PM on 71st Street. Coupons. Never again.

Teen Moms Reunite...I move to Chinatown

2011-04-07T18:04:00.000-07:00

Yep, we got the apartment in Chinatown! YAY. My semi-Chinese friend Francesca is helping me learn phrases so that I can buy all the bubble tea and froyo that I desire. You can definitely order those things in English, but if I'm going to be a local...you know.

In addition to my new existence as a soon-to-be loft dweller, I am newly addicted to bikram yoga. I thought that a room full of sweaty people would equal instant Groupon regret, but I love it. I love the exercise, not the sweaty people. Are you aware that you burn over 1,000 calories in one 90 minute workout? Along with my new workout regimen I am trying to eat healthier food, since a few weeks ago I came to the realization that I am not a 14-year-old boy. Apparently my metabolism was aware of this before I figured that out. But this 105 degree room thing makes the whole getting-in-shape thing pretty easy. I hope we don't later find out that it poisons you or something, like the Atkins diet.

I just got back to the apartment after a visit to our apartment's gym (yoga studio was closed for floor repairs, womp womp) to discover that the "Teen Mom 2" Dr. Drew special is on! I can't believed I missed 45 minutes of it, but I managed to catch about 10 minutes of Chelsea, Adam, and Randylicious. Yes, for the "couple mediation" segment, Chelsea brought her dad. I'm a little concerned because from what I could gather from the last few minutes that I caught, it seems like Chelsea and Adam are back together?! WHY. Why will no one listen to Randylicious? Someone needs to explain to these girls that while it's nice for children to have two parents, staying together for the kids at all costs doesn't usually work out! It especially doesn't work out when you are dating Adam, whose idea of appropriate includes asking his girlfriend to buy him a truck. And going sleeveless.

Right now, Kailyn is crying to Dr. Drew, but that is not very interesting, because Kailyn's story is just blah. BRING ON JENELLE. I hope I did not miss Jenelle. Maybe Jenelle is in jail?

I can't believe this season came to a close so quickly...le sigh. Of course they have already found a whole new batch of wannabe Farrahs to parade around. Hooray!

Send a girl to school!

2011-04-01T11:01:00.000-07:00

Remember when you were in high school, and summer was approaching, and all you could think was - "Awww man! I just want to stay in school forever!"...? No? Not really?

Well, believe it or not, for some teenagers, summer is pretty boring. It means sitting at home, cooking, cleaning, worrying about money, getting even further behind in their education, and wondering how they will be able to meet their goals.

But you people, with the good hearts and the few spare dollars in your pockets, can change this for one girl this summer! Help send a teenager to a summer English program so she can get ahead and take charge of her life! I'm serious - she actually wants to go to school.

Read about Domi and how you can help her go to summer school on my new blog. Warmer days are coming, and you'll be able to enjoy them even more knowing you made someone else's summer grand.

Much love,
Blair

Chinatown's newest resident? Hopefully?

2011-03-28T19:44:00.000-07:00

Monday night greetings. Boy, what a week/weekend/where are we?! it has been. There was last week...and I don't really know what to say about that because my agenda is alllllll the way on the other side of the room and nope, I will not retrieve it. Last week, there was dra-maaaa at the office and it was crazy. On Friday, I went out with Susannah for a TGIF celebration in Boystown. We went to "Spin," because for some reason all gay bars are one-syllable laundry-themed verbs (in Miami, it was "Twist"). We all thought there would be dancing there, and there sort of was...when we arrived. But mostly it was just a big shower - like, an actual shower - on a stage, and it was amateur shower night! That's exactly what it sounds like. Willing volunteers raise their hands and are taken to a backstage area, where they are given complimentary underwear so they can shower-dance in front of a crowd to New Britney. Two members of our group participated. I was not one of them.

The rest of the weekend was dedicated entirely to apartment-searching. Is that not one of the most dreadful things in the world? To make matters worse, Boyfriend and I are terribly spoiled in our apartment. The rent is good, there's parking, and our kitchen is beautiful. I actually had an embarrassing meltdown because I thought I needed an apartment we looked at on Saturday that Boyfriend did not like. But on Sunday we saw the most beautiful apartment eeeeeeeever and now we are getting it. Maybe. Today I went to their rental office to pay the application fee, after faxing in an application at 8:30 AM, and some jerk stole it! However, there is a unit available directly above it, and we are now applying for that one. The management office is located in the Fulton River District, which smells like fish and empty beer cans and is difficult to traverse on foot. I learned this today as I dodged semi-trucks and construction to turn in our application. It's definitely great Law & Order scene-of-the-crime material.

After that adventure, I attended my first ever bikram yoga class! I got a Groupon, which is kind of lame, but whatever! I got this Groupon in September but wanted to wait until I could really use my unlimited two months to their fullest. At first, the whole thing seemed a little cult-like. No one speaks and it's just a giant room of sweaty people with a man standing on a platform dictating orders that sometimes are not in English. But apparently you burn over 1,000 calories per session so whatever. There's just so much sweat.

Tomorrow night is Susannah's husband's 30th birthday - I have old friends! My contribution to the night will be a plate of cookie bars, so those need to be baked now. Also, online homework must be done. The night gets away from me!

Until next time...

Freedom tastes like leftover roast beef sandwiches.

2011-03-21T11:42:00.000-07:00

Guess what - the big work event is over! I can stop having nightly nervous breakdowns! Maybe?

Yes, the big fundraiser is complete, so I can go back to questioning my self-worth and trying to figure out where my life is headed. Yippee! Last night, Boyfriend and I had an apartment meeting to discuss upcoming plans and issues. I even said, "I hereby call this meeting to order." And then he laughed at me and pretended to fall asleep. We didn't actually decide much. The priorities were:

- Decide whether or not we are taking a weekend vacation to Miami, and if so, when.
- Decide if we are going to continue living in our wonderful but inconveniently-located apartment for another year.

The first item is still in the works...not sure if it's worth it when it's finally getting nice in Chicago. Although, it is supposed to snow, according to Susannah, so there's that. In terms of the apartment, there are just so many questions! Will we be able to find a place that has parking, and a beautiful kitchen, and does not have spiders or hipsters? Also, moving is a hassle. But the search is on, just to see what's out there. But wait, does this mean we're stuck in Chicago forever? UGH I DON'T KNOW.

I feel that Boyfriend has been absent from recent blog posts, but we're making up for that today because here is the QOTW (that stands for "Quote of the Week"):

"I do know that girls fart, because I saw it on 'Mythbusters.'"

And with that, I will leave you. Happy Monday! Oh, and also, freedom tastes like roast beef sandwiches because when you are fed roast beef sandwiches (in a box) at a catered dinner, because you aren't worthy of food on a plate, it's important to steal as many as possible on your way out. Lunch for days!

Tuesday with Randylicious? Randylicious.

2011-03-15T19:58:00.000-07:00

It's Tuesday, I'm sick, and I'm having trouble finding the strength to bring you the Teen Mom Two-sday you deserve. But I will tell you that the train wreck that is Jenelle is still under way, and it is a sight to behold. Tonight she stole her insane mother's credit cards so she could road trip up to New Jersey and smoke a joint with Kieffer, and somehow failed to predict the consequences. Meanwhile, Kailyn and Jo are fighting or whatever, and this Leah/Corey will-they-or-won't-they drama is pretty silly since we live in 2011 and we all know they ended up getting married. But here is my real favorite thing to come out of tonight's episode - an exchange between Chelsea (quickly becoming among my favorite Teen Moms) and her father, on the telephone.

Chelsea, en route to a Lady Gaga concert with her two girl friends, sees a birthday Facebook post from her babydaddy, ex-boyfriend, and idiot human Adam. Chelsea's friend Megan tells her to "delete that shit!" because he is messing with her mind. Thank you, Megan! But Chelsea can't just delete it - she must call her father to tell him, because he is like the Miranda of the group. Also, Chelsea apparently calls her dad, "Randylicious."

Chelsea: Hold up, I gotta call Randylicious.
*ring ring*
Chelsea: Dad, Adam just posted on my Facebook wall!
Randylicious: Delete it so no one else can see it and then tell him to get his stuff out of your garage.

RANDYLICIOUS IN THE HOUSE.

I've taken about all the horse-sized sinus medicine the warning label allows, so please cross your fingers or bow to your deities for my speedy recovery - maybe that will work!

Friday TMT recap and that's pretty much it.

2011-03-11T11:57:00.000-08:00

I've been terrible about Teen Mom Two-sday this season. I was about to say that maybe it's because this season is so damn depressing, and not hilarious at all, but then I realized that despite being hilarious, Gary and Amber were also depressing...so I don't know! But here's what we can talk about, for now:

- Jenelle got in trouble last week because she was smoking weed outside her mom's house. For some reason, Jenelle still does not understand why her mom is increasingly frustrated with her. Jenelle is "doing her best!" Doing your best in Sadness, South Carolina apparently means taking a secret romantic road trip to New Jersey with your unemployed boyfriend and getting high on your parents' property.

-Chelsea...where do we begin? Chelsea's boyfriend is trying SO HARD to end their relationship without coming right out and breaking up with her. He treats her terribly, he reminds her of all the times he cheated on her...maybe this is like "How to lose a Teen Mom in 10 Days," and they're both trying to get rid of each other but no one is budging. Or Chelsea needs a serious self-esteem boost.

-Kailyn's belongings are at Jo's house, and he's not giving them back until he gets his money! His money being the money he gave to Kailyn for community college, that he now wants back because she is dating some hunk from Office Depot or whatever.

-We don't make fun of Leah because a) her babies are adorable, b) one of them has serious medical problems and it actually brings me to tears watching the only reasonable person on this show go through such pain! No, but for realz...

Ha ha I have to go to a meeting now...yikes. Later, perhaps I will tell you about how I had to spend an hour making phone calls to insurance and the hospital because the time I went to get a prescription for Xanax for my airplane-phobia apparently got coded as a "mental disorder" visit, and they want me to pay $300. And that is not happening. It was a $6 prescription! Thanks, America.

The best science grade I (n)ever received!

2011-03-10T18:36:00.000-08:00

I won't be ranting about my life troubles tonight, because good things happened today! Annoying, frustrating, and obscene gesture-worthy things also happened, but those are not important anymore, and here is why.

I meet several times each week with one of the teenage girls in the Youth Program. We work on homework and extra reading and writing assignments, and sometimes we go on fun field trips to the ice rink or museums. Last weekend, I spent many, many hours at her family's apartment, because girl had a science test this past Monday and decided to wait until Thursday to tell me/begin studying. It is important to note that I am not remotely good at science. My worst grade in high school was in physics, and my worst grade in college was in "Weather & Climate," which, yes, is terribly sad. This particular science test was about health and nutrition, however, so most of it was relevant and easy for me to learn or understand.

Studying was a challenge. In general, she really struggles with high school because of her limited English and the fact that she is missing a lot of the building blocks that most of us take for granted, and that a high school student needs to succeed in any class. She had a lot of material to cover for this test, and some of the vocabulary was extremely challenging. But she studied hard, and today went I went over to her apartment, she told me that she got an 86% - a B+!!! I was so proud! She was so excited and wanted to show me the test, but could not find it. We will be working on organizational skills this week.

It all falls apart at 22.

2011-03-04T16:52:00.000-08:00

Before my birthday, I joked around with a few people that it's all downhill after 21. Well, it has been a week since I turned 22 and let me say, Boy, did things ever decline quickly. Zoom into me, eating Sun Chips and watching "Amanda Knox," the Lifetime Original Movie. Yes, TGIF indeed.

There are a few problems in my life right now. I'll ignore the big ones, because don't blog about things that could come back to hurt you, kids! But I've got other sorrows to report.

As I have mentioned, my current status as a full-time volunteer enables me to receive food stamps. And I use the word "enables" intentionally, because Uncle Sam is not only providing me with essential survival foods, but also as much ice cream as my heart and belly desire! After 6 months of getting food stamps, one must reapply to continue receiving them. Are you aware that the Department of Human Services is probably among the top ten most awful things in existence in this country? Here's what you have to do to work there, I bet - fill out this questionnaire, in this manner:

Do you enjoy providing quality customer service? NO
Are you looking for a job where you will be able to sit around and mock the poor? YES
What's the best way to dress for success? SWEATPANTS

Congratulations - you're hired, and will now be doing absolutely nothing for people who desperately need your help!

So I went to DHS because after I turned in my paperwork to continue to receive my food moneyz, I got a letter in the mail that told me I was denied! DENIED. Apparently, I did not turn in my paperwork. Except I did. IN PERSON. So I went to DHS first thing Tuesday morning and there were about 100 people there, including my favorite characters - lady who knows everyone else coming in for public aid, angry mom, and baby drinking chocolate milk out of a bottle. The way DHS works is this: you tell the horrible bums working behind the counter that you are there, and why, and then you sit and wait for your name to be called, or rather screamed. I waited for about 40 minutes or so, and then the screaming lady came out to call me! After that it was just me getting yelled at about how I "should have called" even though it's a widely known fact that the phones at the DHS are just designed to ring until the caller grows angry and hangs up.

The good news - they found my paperwork and I can now go back to buying ice cream! And food. Other life issues right now? Well, I almost ran out of gas on Lake Shore today, and one of my headlights doesn't work. And the car needs an oil change. And it's stuffed with trash bags full of donated coats. Behold, the chaos of intentional poverty!

Crazy Hayden Pannetiere is in on trial right now, so that's all for tonight! Haaaappy weekend.

Birthday weekend post!

2011-02-27T19:31:00.000-08:00

Hey you people, how was the weekend? I hope you had a great one, because I certainly did. I'm currently watching the Oscars, but Anne Hathaway makes my skin crawl so I can't focus on it all at once. Oh wait, Mandy Moore is there! "Candy" was, at one time, my favorite song, because I was not a Britney or a Christina. I was totally on Team Mandy.

Anyway, this past weekend was BIRTHDAY weekend! I have now reached the old age of 22. And I got there in style. Mi madre came to Chicago on Wednesday to visit me, and I love when she visits! We had the best time. On Wednesday, I met her at Union Station and we went out to dinner at The Sit Down, which is a remarkable restaurant in Hyde Park that is remarkable because it has equally good pizza, sandwiches, and sushi. Then we watched "Which Way Home," which is a really sad documentary about unaccompanied child migrants. Yeah, my mom and I know how to party.

Thursday, I unfortunately had to work all day, but Thursday is also a mentoring day, which I love. After mentoring, I met mi madre at the Art Institute for its weekly free Thursday night admission. It was Birthday Eve, so after the museum we went to Mercat for tapas and sangria, and to be borderline harassed by our very pushy waiter. "Is that going to be enough? Okay then, saving room for dessert!" At least the food was muy delicioso.

Friday was mah birthday! Woop woop! I had to go to work for a bit for a meeting, but even that contained a pleasant surprise - pastries from my event subcommittee! I left at lunch time and my mom and I went to Tank Noodle on Argyle for some Vietnamese. From there it was pretty much my ideal birthday celebration: a little shopping for new clothes, froyo, an Open Books shopping spree, dinner later that night with Boyfriend at my favorite place in Pilsen, and a successful search for some hard-to-find Ben & Jerry's flavors.

The celebration continued yesterday. Earlier on, I went to mentoring, which began as the usual tutoring and quickly turned into an all-out Burundian fiesta. Boyfriend and I went to our first baby birthday party, which is about what you'd expect: adults drinking and eating snacks while the birthday baby cried the entire time. Then we went out with friends. Unfortunately, the only pictures that came back from last night were a photo of the cake that Susannah made me, and me with our empty jug of on-sale Sangria. Enough said!

Billy Crystal has showed up at the Oscars! Does this mean they are replacing Anne? Please?

Well, it's Sunday night and I still have l'autre blog to write. So auf wiedersehen and enjoy this televised horror, if you're watching. Oh hey, I think it is thundering. Yikes?

Teen Mom Two-sday: Obvious Moms Edition

2011-02-22T20:13:00.000-08:00

I think the the me of tonight's episode of "Teen Mom 2" was "Teen Moms: They Don't Always Realize Obvious Things That Are Right in Front of Them." Let's have a recap!

Early on, Chelsea reunited with her ex-roommate and maybe-still-friend Megan when she came by the house for something. They discussed how it's tough to be friends, because that Adam guy is such a jerk! "He comes between everyone who is close to me," Chelsea said, apparently not listening to what she was saying. Maybe do something about it?

Then, somewhere on a lake in West Virginia, Corey proposed to Leah! He did it the only way he knew how: attaching the ring to a fishing pole and pulling it out of the lake like he had caught a big fish. When Leah called her mother, Dawn, to share the news, Dawn took on the role of Unlikely Voice of Reason with her response: "Only a redneck like Corey would do something like that." True. But we adore Corey just the same!

Back in one of the Dakotas or wherever she lives, Chelsea noted all the ways she has disappointed her dad. The list included getting pregnant, getting back together with Adam, and not finishing high school. Of course, only one of those things is irreversible. She could immediately break up with Adam, and nothing is really stopping her from finishing high school since her dad is paying for her apartment and she doesn't have a job...or anything to do besides finish high school. But Chelsea would apparently prefer to just be a disappointment, because that's the easy thing to do, and it allows her to shack up with Sleeveless A-hole for all eternity.

In Trainwreck City, USA, Jenelle has her whole life figured out. And she hates that her mom "always second-guesses" her. (Of course, the preview for next week's episode features our lovely Jenelle smoking weed in her mom's front yard. So there's that.) I have this deep feeling that one day, I will see Jenelle and Kieffer sitting on the side of the road, totally stoned and trying to hitchhike their way to more booze.

Leah continues to struggle with Ali's medical issues, which may have resulted in one of the more powerful lines of the episode. "Ain't nothin' wrong with my baby." Dayyyyum, girl! Phrases like that make you automatically eligible for political office in some states.

Other possible best line of the episode? Thanks, Chelsea and Chelsea's dad.
Chelsea: If there was a pause button, I would probably push it right now.
Chelsea's Dad: If there were a rewind button, I would have pushed it a long time ago."

YES.

Kailyn continues to be extremely boring as she searches for an apartment and tries to break things off with Jo, even though it seemed like they were already broken up? Who knows/cares? Let's get rid of Kailyn and focus her 20 minutes on more of the other three. Although Jo is an idiot and is probably the cause of most of the fighting, you have to give him credit for his straightforward approach.
Kailyn: Jo, why did you send me this text message?!
Jo: Because I hate you.

Jenelle comes home from her first day of college all excited (or as visibly excited as Jenelle ever gets) because "everyone started college today" and it would have been totally lame if everyone started college and she was sitting on a stoop somewhere, with her Silly Bandz and Lady Gaga wristband. She expressed her excitement to Kieffer, who responded, "Cool." Kieffer is mad because he never went to college. Why did Kieffer have to enter our lives? Perhaps this is the question Jenelle is asking herself, at this moment, but probably not. She is probably thinking, "Weed. Silly Bandz. Hair dye."

New awesome logo!

2011-02-19T11:20:00.000-08:00

I have a really awesome friend named MATT who made me this awesome new picture for le blog! THANK YOU, MATT!

More on this weekend at a later time!

Aliens invade my computer, and the B Team welcomes 2 1/2 people to America.

2011-02-16T16:35:00.000-08:00

As if I needed another reason to smother myself with my pillow, I found out that the motherboard of my computer is broken or something, and I cannot use it until it is fixed! I haven't even had time to go back to that sketchball store and pick up my computer, so they've probably traded it in for meth already. C'est la vie.

Last night, Susannah and I went to the airport to welcome 2 1/2 (a pregnant lady and her husband) Burmese refugees to Chicago and America! After work, I went to the hippie school to do a little tutoring, picked up our teenage translator, and the three of us (me, translator, and Susannah) drove to O'Hare. The flight was coming in from LAX and we waited for our couple at baggage claim but they were nowhere to be found. I was super excited because for a minute, I thought I was going to get a special pass to skip through security without a ticket to go track down our couple, but they showed up just as the American Airlines representative was writing me a pass. I guess it's probably better that we found them, but I was really looking forward to getting treated like someone worth a potential security risk. After that, Susannah, Ha Tha (our teenage translator) and I drove them in my beloved Rowdy McKar to their brand new apartment just north of the office. Susannah showed them how to do important things, like turn the stove on and off, put the shower curtain inside the shower instead of out ("I can't count how many times I've heard 'My shower leaks!'" - a case manager) and lock the front door. Apparently that last item did not entirely register, because I ran into another client (another Burmese woman who lives in the new couple's apartment building, and who came over last night to welcome them) today as I was leaving the office, and she said they had locked themselves out. While Susannah gave the tour of the apartment last night, I cooked ramen noodles. All in all, I really enjoyed going on the arrival. I was worried that the night would be very emotional and chaotic - I mean, this couple had been traveling for upwards of 20 hours to a new place where there is SNOW on the ground, plastic things in the fridge that make ice, and a door that has not one, not two, but three locks. And they are a free case, which means they do not have any family or connections in the area. But mostly they just seemed excited. And their baby could be president one day! Of course, someone will probably demand to see its birth certificate...but by that time we will probably have microchips implanted in our brains, or something. Here was my favorite exchange from the evening...

Ha Tha: Do you know she is panicked?
Blair & Susannah: Panicked?! Why is she panicked?
Ha Tha: Uh...you know, she is having a baby?

We explained that "panicked" and "pregnant" sound similar, but mean different things...sometimes.

That should explain the lack of Teen Mom Two-sdsay. I had to leave Bagels out in the cold. No textual exchanges during the televised train wreck of white trash adolescence! Maybe next week.

Au revoir.

Explanation of brief hiatus/mental breakdown!

2011-02-10T13:22:00.000-08:00

My laptop is at the computer hospital. Hopefully it is not fatally wounded, but there is something wrong with the screen. For a while it was working hooked up to Boyfriend's monitor (usually reserved for video games) but now it has stopped cooperating with the monitor! Please pray for a speedy, miraculous, Rep. Giffords-like recovery for my poor laptop! The computer hospital is run by this Chinese family, and although they seem well-intentioned I'm pretty sure I'm going to get ripped off, or already did. I am still awaiting the diagnosis, at which point I will have to call my pal Shiny, from HP, in India. The state of computer health care in this country is atrocious!

Ah, yes, my mental breakdown. Currently happening...right now! The sad fact is that nothing is quite as simple as blogging on the Internets, which is pretty much the perfect job. When you write a blog, you rarely have to interact with humans, so even if someone has horrible, horrible character flaws, you would almost never know! It's fantastic.

Unfortunately, the world in which I currently live requires that I work for money, not just for the lulz. And this money-making thing...it's a rocky, rocky road.

So that is all for now. I'm going to see a movie about kids doing slam poetry tonight, because Boyfriend is still out of town so I will not have to endure any ridicule for doing so.

And that is all for now. Thoughts and prayers for good old...computer I didn't care enough about to name. Looks like I will be doing my Internet things from an Apple store for the rest of my days. [Shudder!]

Hallelujah! It's Tacos & Teen Mom Two-sday Boozeday!

2011-02-08T19:00:00.000-08:00

Welcome to 9 PM, everyone! Tonight is a special edition of Teen Mom Two-sday, because Susannah and Mr. Susannah are over for dinner. We had some homemade guacamole, quesadillas, and turkey tacos to honor my personal trainer, Jillian Michaels, and the viewing of The Biggest Loser. I can't watch The Biggest Loser because I laugh at comments like, "We are struggling because of the size of our team." And I think, "HA HA, the size of your team. LITERALLY!"

Let the liveblog begin.

9:01 PM: Okay, but really...what is wrong with Jo? Why does he spell his name without an "e," like he's going through a "Little Women" phase?
9:03 PM: Oh Jenelle. Jenelle, Jenelle, Jenelle. "I did not save enough money to pay for college." Because you spent it all on meth? Also, "close the toilet so the baby doesn't drown." Sound advice!
9:05 PM: So Jenelle's mother basically screwed her out of getting any financial aid? Wonderful. Her life is really going well.
9:07 PM: "I would like to get into a nursing program. But like, I heard it's hard to get into a nursing program." Hmm...
9:08: I really hope, for that baby's sake, that Chelsea and Megan become a couple. They would really get along nicely. They could sit in their bedroom, making pro/con lists on pieces of paper held up by their Cosmo magazines all day long, and Baby Aubree would be the best hair extension factory worker in all of North Dakota/wherever.
9:12 PM: Commercial break = discussion with the guests. INTENSE DEBATE INTENSE DEBATE. Summary? Abort all children, scan the ovaries of middle schoolers with some make-believe technology, according to Michael.
9:15 PM: Aubree is crying for help! Scream louder!
9:16 PM: Chelsea is unveiling her magic list of conditions for Adam to live in her house. This is a magical moment. Don't make her regret this, Adam!
9:17 PM: UGH the Queen of Boring! Kailyn...why was she chosen for this show? Why couldn't we have had that girl who got an abortion and was dating the white rasta, or whatever he was? How many minutes must we spend hearing Kailyn and Jo argue about laundry? I miss Amber and Gary...
9:19 PM: Guest viewer Michael says he only wants to scan the ovaries of children "for the kids." He does not seem to recognize that his idea has nothing to do with actual, existing technology. What does "scanning ovaries" even mean? Apparently it's a way to abort children before they are even conceived!
9:22 PM: As Boyfriend said, "the most awful combination of accents in the world."
9:23 PM: ATTENTION ADAM. This is not a sleeves-optional program! Why do none of your shirts have sleeves? Why do you insist on wearing what can only be described as a chest-thong?
9:26 PM: We have now been introduced to Eddie, who is Jo's father. Eddie is angry. Apparently, when he "goes off" things...will happen.
9:31 PM: If anyone is a disrespectful piece of "sh**," it is Jo.
9:33 PM: So they blur out naked babies but we are exposed to the contents of dirty diapers? So inappropriate!
9:34 PM: Yes, Chelsea, if you "spread out" the ways in which you disappoint your dad, it will be better. Much better than if you stop doing things that disappoint your dad.
9:35 PM: Speaking of disappointments...JENELLE!
9:40 PM: Oh, Corey. God love him.
9:42 PM: Kailyn's friends seem almost as bored with her as I am. Oh...you're homeless now? Oh, that...sucks? CHECK PLEASE.
9:46 PM: Chelsea should stop beginning sentences with "I should be studying, but..."
9:48 PM: This is just...too disastrous...to be funny. Jenelle...no words.
9:49 PM: I almost felt bad for Jenelle, and then Keefer, or whatever he is? said, "well, the past is history and the future is a mystery and right now is a gift and that's why it is the present" and I LOST IT.
9:56 PM: This episode has been a disappointment! Season going downhill!
9:59 PM: I am not liking the lack of comic relief. Please bring Gary and Amber back...ASAP. The End.

It's snow cold.

2011-02-07T21:33:00.000-08:00

Today's goals included grocery shopping, working out, going to bed at a decent hour, showering, and cleaning the apartment - not necessarily in that order. It is currently 11:15 PM and I have accomplished one of those things (hint: it's the one that resulted in a new box of Teddy Grahams) and because I have decided to blog, it pretty much requires that I sacrifice another one of those things, either "showering" or "going to bed at a decent hour." It also requires that I wake up extra early tomorrow in order to do the working out that I didn't do today...and so begins the endless cycle of exhaustion and becoming fat.

Oh, and I was also supposed to unpack. My suitcase is right here on the floor next to me! Why am I on the floor?

My laptop screen is broken.
I can only use my laptop if it is plugged into Boyfriend's monitor (which he purchased for playing video games, b-t-dubs).
Our linksys thing is also broken.
In order to access the internet, I must keep my laptop plugged into the ethernet cord or whatever it is called.
In order to have all of these things plugged into each other simultaneously, I must sit on the floor between the television and the kitchen counter.

THIS IS THE STATE OF MY LIFE.

Other things I thought about today: tax evasion, blindness, and how much money was wasted before I figured out that I can use my food stamps in all 50 states.

It's too bad about the tone of this blog post, because earlier today I was feeling damn good about taking on life's challenges. On the plane ride back from San Francisco last night, the in-flight movie was "Morning Glory," starring Rachel McAdams (let's be real - love her!) that I refused to see with my mother because I read a bad review of it somewhere...probably in Time Out Chicago because TOC hates EVERYTHING. The movie was kind of/really cheesy because it had Diane Keaton in it, however, two things: 1) Boyfriend and I saw this movie being filmed in New York so it was almost necessary that I see it. We were walking through Bryant Park and there was all this commotion because something was being filmed. We stuck around for a second and all of a sudden, who was a few feet in front of us? Harrison Ford.

[Harrison Ford appears out of nowhere]
Boyfriend: OH SHIT IT'S HARRISON FORD!

But also, or 2) there is this [also cheesy] song in the movie by Natasha Bedingfield, whose work you may recognize from the opening credits of "The Hills" or "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants," and it is...inspirational. It plays right when Rachel McAdams is kicking ass, and so I downloaded it and listened to it on repeat all during my hour-long commute this morning and I was like "I'M going to kick ass." And then I took my earphones out, sat down at my desk, and realized that Natasha Bedingfield would not be singing to me throughout the work day, so things were going to be unpleasant until bed time.

So I will be working on morale boosting ideas. Here's a pretty picture or two or five of my glorious trip to California.

This is your brain on sunshine.

2011-02-05T12:28:00.000-08:00

Hello, people! Just an update to say that I am not buried in the snow in Chicago. You know WHY? Because I'm in San Francisco. Before that, LA and Santa Barbara. It's a beautiful 70-degree day here in California...and I've started searching for apartments on Craig's List.

Reasons why I am not already planning the logistics of my cross-country move:

1. Lack of job located in California.
2. Deciding what would be worse - being buried alive under hundreds of feet of snow, or falling into the Pacific when the Big One comes.

Decisions, decisions...

See you back in the cold tomorrow.

A weekend's spoils

2011-01-23T18:37:00.000-08:00

It was a long weekend this weekend - literally, because I had Friday off - and all I have to show for it is an empty package of Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches and a fully watched box set of "Band of Brothers," which Boyfriend tells me he purchased at a pawn shop south of the Mason Dixon line. I don't ask questions!

I don't really feel like blogging too much, except to say that as you may know, President Hu Jintao of China was in town (as in America, and Chicago) last week, but you probably don't know that he almost had my frozen cold blood on his hands! It was super cold in the Windy City last week and this weekend. The word "arctic" was thrown around by weather people far too often for my liking. On Thursday, I was at tutoring until 6 PM, and I had heard that temps would get into the negative twenties by nightfall, and that skin exposed for 30 minutes would be frozen and DEAD. So I tried to hurry home, but when I exited the Harrison stop to catch my bus to the lovely South Side, there was some sort of motorcade blocking all the roads! And then someone said, "it's the president of China!" And for a minute, I thought, "Wow! Cool!" But then, after all the cars went by, I realized that the road on which I catch my bus was completely blocked off by police. I asked the police where to catch my bus, and they didn't really know, but I have, by now, memorized my bus route, so I just started walking to where the next stop would be. Unfortunately, that road was also blocked off, and I began to wonder how I would make it home, and if I would do so before my limbs had completely frozen off my body. I should also mention that I forgot my phone that day, and I was in that southern part of the Loop where there are no useful places of business where one could potentially make a call or figure out where the next #6 bus stop would be in the event of the president of China coming to town. Luckily, I stumbled onto the bus stop for the other bus that goes right to the steps of my the apartment, and on the way out of downtown I got to watch the protesters shouting at no one! Well, actually, they were shouting at each other, because on one side of the street were the "Free Tibet!" protesters with their signs and Tibetan flags, and on the other side of the street there was the Chinese welcome wagon, which was just a bunch of Chinese people (and fans of China, I suppose) waving Chinese flags and shouting "Yayyyyy China!" or things of that nature. They even had dragons, like there was going to be a parade! But there was no parade. Just cold.

That was more blogging than I intended. Originally I was just going to blog this text conversation between me and Bagels.

Bagels: remember when i started the cake decorating club?
Me: was that before or after you stopped trying to convince people you were straight?
Bagels: it was for The Overachiever!
[later, on The Facebook chat]
Me: omg I broke down and watched the MTV Skins. It made me want to scratch my eyes out.
Bagels: I've heard that across the board, Blair
Me: PS, earlier, were you insinuating that I forced you to start the cake decorating club?
Bagels: no, but it wasn't like I magically did it. I was near cupcakes so I thought of it. I feel like a Plan B commercial.
Me: Please don't tell me why?
Bagels: hungover and alone.

Tomorrow's Monday...and on Friday, I leave for California! Happy work week, everyone.

The sun will come out...tomorrow!

2011-01-20T12:46:00.000-08:00

Breaking news: I have been asked to give a speech to a Girl Scout troop about my life and accomplishments. I just got the e-mail this morning. I've been in contact with the troop leader for something work-related, and was going to stop by the meeting to pick up a donation. We were e-mailing back and forth about a pick-up time and everything was figured out. Then, this morning, I read this first line in the e-mail appearing in my inbox:

"On further reflection (and on googling your background)..."

Obviously my first thought was, "Oh no! I'm being uninvited from the Girl Scout meeting based on my search results on Google! That blog of my high school AIM conversations was a one-time thing, and so long ago!"

Thankfully, when I continued reading, I learned that I had indeed been Googled, but the results had worked in my favor. Apparently I lead a life that some find interesting, and it is believed by at least one person that a presentation on my life's experiences would encourage a group of twenty five 4th grade girls to reach for the stars! This was very flattering, and since I can't help but get excited about a presentation over which I have complete control - a presentation that doesn't have to be approved or included in a memo or WHATEVER CAN YOU FEEL MY ANXIETY - I decided to start writing a draft.

Hi, girls! My name is Blair, I'm 22 years old [will be at the time of the presentation] and I work at [name of organization]. Apparently, I'm here to talk to you about my life in hopes that it will inspire you to achieve great things! From what I understand, you are all in 4th grade. How many of you know what you want to be when you grow up? And what do you want to be, girl with the Justin Bieber t-shirt?

JB T-shirt girl: I want to be on the Kardashians!

Wow! That is a lofty goal, right there! And you, in the halter top. What are your dreams for the future?

Halter top girl: I'm going to invent a new prescription for ADHD, the side effects of which will include vegetables tasting like candy!

It sounds as though you girls have a lot planned. When I was in 4th grade, I also had high hopes for my future. When I was in 4th grade, I wanted to be Annie on Broadway. How many of you know the musical, "Annie?"

[Silence, blank stares]

That's too bad. "Annie" is the heartwarming story of a little girl with freckles and a red afro who lives in a dingy orphanage where she is abused by an alcoholic named Miss Hannigan. Annie befriends a stray dog and sings a lot, and eventually gets adopted by a rich old man named Daddy Warbucks. When I was in 4th grade, I wanted to play the role of Annie on Broadway. I had a VHS recording of "Turning Point: The Search for Broadway's New Annie" and watched it approximately ten billion times. I remember when Joanna Pacitti got cut and was replaced with another orphan, and she sat on the steps and cried, "It's not gonna be me being Annie no more!" I tried out for every production of "Annie" within a 50-mile radius, and trust me, there were a lot of "Annie" productions in 1997. But I never got cast - not once! - because it's hard to cast a five-foot-tall 4th grader as an orphan who is supposed to be cute, and little, and not taller than the kid playing Daddy Warbucks. Plus, it turns out that you have to come out of the womb ready to play Annie, and sing in your parents' hair salon for tips at age five, or else you'll just never be good enough.

So why am I telling you about my failed Broadway dreams? Well, the good news is that I found something I enjoy doing, and it doesn't involve red wigs or polyester dresses or a mangy dog! So for those of you who think you only have one shot to make it in life...I'm here to prove you wrong!

Something like that. Am I right?! Susannah said it's depressing, and I shouldn't talk about my failed "Annie" ambitions. I don't know, though...maybe it will inspire them to want more for themselves than a life that peaks at age 12.

I probably won't talk about that, mostly because I was asked to speak about the experiences that are accessible via Google, not my once-secret (at least to the Internet) obsession with one of the most annoying musicals of all time. But I do think we should be careful before becoming nostalgic for our childhood dreams and aspirations. Just because we didn't live up to them doesn't mean we have failed. I, for one, am extremely pleased that I never donned that red wig.

And this reaffirms my feelings:

A disturbing trend.

2011-01-19T21:36:00.000-08:00

Let's ignore for a moment the fact that I totally bailed on Teen Mom Two-sday this week (my sincere apologies!) and focus on something I realized about, oh...twenty minutes ago.

I'm not really one for celebrity crushes. This was not the case many years ago...friends know I was completely devoted to the kid who plays Harry Potter (back in like, 9th grade, and I was 13, so it's fine?) and I was also deeply offended when my friends Matt and Kevin met Craig from Degrassi without me (this was in college, but still fine, because IT'S CRAIG FROM DEGRASSI). But these days, I don't know. I don't understand why anyone likes Patrick Dempsey, I'm not a fourteen-year-old girl (or boy) so obviously Justin Bieber is out of the running...who else is there, really?

However, tonight I watched "Invictus" instead of working out (oops!) and at one point thought to myself, "Well, that Matt Damon is a handsome fellow!" I think many people would agree with me, would they not? The only thing is, I have seen Matt Damon in a million things. I see him on "30 Rock" on a regular basis. I've seen the Oceans and the Bourne and all that jazz. And this never really occurred to me before. And then I made another realization. Whenever I watch "Blood Diamond," which is a lot, in case you are wondering, my commitment to Leonardo DiCaprio is renewed.

So at this point, I bet you're thinking exactly what I'm thinking.

...do I have a thing for fictional (or historically-based) white Africans who have suddenly found themselves in the middle of conflict that is often racially or politically-based?

I'm going to have to do some more research on this matter, and this will involve asking Boyfriend to put a long order in on Netflix for every movie about historical conflicts in Africa so I can see if I am drawn to the male characters in those films. I have to ask Boyfriend to do this because I still think Netflix is stupid (hi, Susan!) and I refuse to learn how to use it. Blockbuster, don't close!!

The valiant return of TEEN MOM TWO-SDAY!

2011-01-11T20:01:00.001-08:00

Last night was a momentous occasion, because we have been blessed from the Heavens with an all new cast of "Teen Mom!" This new-and-unimproved version of my (and Bagels') fave hour-long train wreck features four girls and FIVE babies (lucky Leah got two for the price of one), and, of course, valuable insight into our failures as a People.

Let's introduce our new cast, shall we?

First, we have Chelsea, who is like a more-orange, less angry version of Farrah, without the scary mom and the capacity for sarcasm. Chelsea lives in South Dakota with her dad, who seems like a pretty decent guy. Their house sure is nice, so there are some mysteries to be solved here. Chelsea's ex-boyfriend is a jerk, so she will most likely be raising baby Aubree alone-slash-with the help of her equally embarrassing friends and acquaintances. We learned last night that Chelsea is worried about being able to date despite the fact that she is a teen mom, which reminds us of Farrah yet again, and makes us miss her rage-fits. We also miss Farrah's I'm-trying-not-to-cry face, because of the stream of black mascara constantly flowing from Chelsea's eyes. Although Farrah's not-crying face was pretty cringe-worthy.

Our next new cast member is Kailyn. For the sake of continuity, we will compare Kailyn to Maci, simply because her story is going to get old within the first three episodes and she really has nothing to offer us besides a possible story of love found behind a cash register at Sports Authority. Kailyn's mom could not care less that her daughter got pregnant at 16, because she has a boyfriend and spends all her time with him, not caring about her daughter. In "16 & Pregnant," we saw Kailyn go to Texas to meet her biological father, which was hilarious in that, "Wow, look at that girl hanging out with that weirdo in his trailer after they haven't seen each other for 16 years" kind of way. Luckily for Kailyn, her boyfriend's mother is a nice lady who appears to have thought to herself, at some point, "Maybe I should help this girl, who is essentially homeless, so that she can provide a better life for herself and this baby." The mom lets Kailyn live with them in their (once again) nice house, and usually takes her side when her son (the baby's father, Jo) is acting like an idiot, which he is, always. Last night, Kailyn and Jo broke up, but since Kailyn has nowhere else to go - confirmed by the fact that she had dinner with her mother at some sort of Applebee's-like chain, explained her potential homelessness, and her mom said, more or less, "that's too bad. Check please!" - Kailyn will continue to live at Jo's house, in the basement. What possible problems could this cause?! In general, Kailyn is extremely boring, and so we probably won't be talking about her much.

Now, for the good ones. It appears that MTV recognized the public's love and respect for Catelynn and Tyler, from Marine City, Michigan, in the original "Teen Mom." Here we had an adorable couple (they also happened to be step-siblings, but somehow this got overlooked most of the time) living in the worst of circumstances. Catelynn's mom was a chain-smoking psychopath, and Tyler's dad was in jail pretty much all the time. Catelynn and Tyler struggled with the decision to give up their baby for adoption, mostly because all the "adults" in their lives were screaming at them (probably while drunk/on meth) telling them to keep the baby, because "all the baby needs is love." Wisely, Tyler responded, "No, the baby actually needs a lot more than love, like a house that doesn't double as a crack den and a fighting chance against second-hand smoke." They gave baby Carly up for adoption, and all was right with the world. This is not really at all like what is going on with new teen mom Leah, who had twins with boyfriend Corey, but they are somehow respectable as a couple and as human beings. Leah, a cheerleader (aren't they all?) from West Virginia, broke up with some gross boyfriend she had been dating for two-or-something years, started dating Corey and BAM! got pregnant after a month. Now she is stuck with Corey, but that's probably a good thing, because Corey is the best. Corey has a job, and sold his beloved truck to help pay for baby-related things. Corey also cries a lot, because he's just a big ol' softy who can't handle the way Leah repeatedly stomps on his heart and feeds it to the West Virginia coyotes/drifters. Although Corey and Leah are not exactly "together" right now, the previews from this season (and pictures of their wedding online) seem to suggest that they will be getting together very, very soon.

Every season of "Teen Mom" needs a catastrophe, and while it will be nearly impossible for any girl or couple to top the horrors of Amber and Gary, the antics of Jenelle Evans may come close. Jenelle is from North Carolina, and her "16 & Pregnant" episode was basically a contest to see how many nights she could go out and party before her mother kicked her out of the house. Her mother is not the most effective disciplinarian, of course, so the result: an infinite amount of nights! After Jenelle's boyfriend Andrew got arrested for a DUI and then pretty much dropped off the face of the planet, Jenelle realized that maybe she would need some help from her mom in raising her baby, Jace, of whom she never really seems too fond. Now, Jenelle has decided that she is a good mom as long as she tucks the baby into bed before she runs off to the saloon with her gross friends to (probably) get drunk/high, and then comes back to sleep it off the following day. Jenelle seems to be headed for disaster, and it's a wonder that she graduated high school. During "16 & Pregnant" it appeared as though she had some nice friends, who cared about her and were less harmful to her well-being, and some stupid friends, who encouraged her to go out every single night, doing whatever you do in some North Carolinian beach town. The nice friends have since vanished, so it's probably all downhill for Jenelle, especially since there has only been one episode and she has already gotten into a physical fight with her mother, who is now fighting her for custody of Jace.

But just because no one will measure up to Amber and Gary, let's remember them, in photos:

It's going to be a great season, everybody!

I love me some CTA.

2011-01-09T21:14:00.000-08:00

It's already 11 o'clock and I'm finding it difficult to finish my post for l'autre blog as I watch "Raising Helen" on (sadly) the Lifetime Movie Network, and to make matters worse I just remembered something I have been wanting to post for about a week. So I must post now, before I forget or fall asleep!

I have a favorite ad on the CTA. I usually see it on the bus I take home (after the train) after work. Here it is:

From what I can tell, this ad is supposed to alert CTA passengers to the possibility of pickpocketing. Considering how often the bus is packed front to back with people who are held upright only by the body mass of those around them, the ad presents a valid warning.

However, I am not quite sure how the "snuggling" picture relates to the "snatching" picture. The only conclusion to be made is that bus passengers need to be suspicious of their significant others, because they are probably only cozying up on the bus so they can reach into their girlfriend's/boyfriend's pocket to steal wallets, phones, identities...anything!

WATCH OUT on the bus. The one you love is probably pickpocketing you.

Back in action...or something.

2011-01-03T13:10:00.000-08:00

I'm back, everyone! And tonight (9 pm/8 Central), so is GREEK, one of my most beloved television shows, which will probably force me to become strangely nostalgic for my participation in sorority life, even though most of my participation was limited to running around with a clipboard, yelling at girls to go to philanthropy events. I kid, I kid. It was grand, and I remember less afternoons spent looking for a wall into which I can bash my head...

Anyway, over the break, Boyfriend and I traveled to Tucson, Arizona to visit la familia! We flew out of Detroit on Christmas morning with my mother and her "gentleman friend," as my grandmother calls him, and my sister, and sort of her boyfriend, who was participating in the experience virtually, via text message. That was all a long time ago and my memory is not what it used to be, so I can't really recall too much from the earlier parts of the trip besides eating scones in the dark car while looking through our stockings, and a baby throwing a tantrum in the absurdly long check-in line. Apparently if you throw a tantrum, they let you go to the front of the line! Keep this in mind next time you have to think on your feet at the airport.

Because I was too tired to focus too much of my energy on possible death (I have a nearly paralyzing fear of flying, don'tcha know?) the flight to Arizona was less terrifying than I anticipated. I may have even fallen asleep for a portion of it. We finally arrived in Phoenix, which is about two hours from Tucson, at around noon. We picked up our bags at the baggage claim and waited for mother's gentleman friend (ha ha, I am going to continue to use this term throughout this blog post, enjoy!) to bring the rental car around, at which point we were all starving. Too bad it was Christmas day, and nothing was open, because if there are two things you will find in that region of America, it's distrust of immigrants and respect for Jesus! Arizona State University, where mi madre attended college, is located just a few minutes from the airport, so we drove there in hopes of finding a Chinese restaurant. Well, there were none Chinese restaurants to be found, and we ended up having a holy Christmas lunch at Jack-in-the-Box, a few tables away from some drifter/hobo types and their mangy dog who was chained up outside.

Once in Tucson all was lovely, and the family time was fun, etc. etc. Boyfriend and I went on a hike at Sabino Canyon on the day after Christmas. We opted for the Phoneline Trail, which was the longest trail on our map, and highest up in the mountains. We took the tram up to the end of the road, then got on the trail and hiked up, up into the mountain, and then through the mountains and down to the desert at the end. It was lovely but Boyfriend was NOT comforting regarding my fear of possible attack by mountain lions. The lady at the ticket booth gave us a pamphlet about the dangers of mountain lions (they aren't scared of humans anymore!) and I probably took it a little too seriously, but it did not prevent us from enjoying the beautiful scenery and fresh air.

On Monday, the whole fam (minus a certain uncle and his certain boyfriend who were on a fabulous vacation in Bali, and the Coloradans) went to lunch at Tanque Verde Guest Ranch, which was again, lovely. Then, I accompanied my mother and sister to Bookman's (along with Boyfriend) where we let the little cousins run around and buy as many used books as they could for $10, which they enjoyed. Bonus: I found and purchased a bunch of books for the book drive I am working on with Susannah right now for our MLK Day event! On Tuesday, Boyfriend and I started out early for the Desert Museum, where we saw lots of sleepy animals and no coyotes. With good intentions, we took my slightly-older boy cousins (5th graders) to see Tron: Legacy in IMAX 3D out in the middle of nowhere, but we ran too late to catch the IMAX show and had to settle for the regular version, which was awful enough without the added disappointment that it wasn't on a five million-foot screen. Of course, my cousins were probably more excited about the part where we let them roam the food court and buy whatever they wanted (they wisely chose sub sandwiches) so really I was probably the most upset. But oh, what a terrible, terrible film. After the movie we drove back into civilization to cook dinner at the Ronald McDonald House, where my grandmother is a dedicated and wonderful volunteer! Then, the Michiganders went out to dinner at an extremely tasty Mexican restaurant in downtown Tucson.

The following day, we had breakfast at Millie's, where my great-grandfather used to go all the time, so we're like celebrities by association, maybe. I spent most of breakfast embarrassing members of my family by starting at a table near us where there was a woman sitting who looked vaguely familiar. I was 75% sure she was an actress. No one really famous, but maybe a rape victim on Law & Order: SVU or a former secretary at Sterling Cooper [Draper Pryce]. I spent all of breakfast agonizing over it, but thankfully my sister had the cojones to go up to the stranger and ask her, "Hey, are you somebody important, or just a lady at a pancake haus?" Turns out, she was just a lady eating pancakes, but she really appreciated the creepy stares!

Boyfriend and I were only back in Detroit for about 12 hours before we got in the car and drove to Chicago for New Year's Eve. Friends came over, food and beverages were had, and we got to see the fireworks at midnight downtown.

Now, regular life has returned with all its pain, discomforts, and quiet agonies. I am anxiously awaiting a reunion tomorrow night with BLOG FAN #1! And then this weekend with some other amigos. My only consolation today was the discovery of a comment thread on some blog where crazy, illiterate people are talking about me! Was this the result of Googling myself? PERHAPS, AND I MAKE NO APOLOGIES. Being bashed on the Internet by strangers is like Christmas for a blogger person! So let's celebrate that.

Vacation, had to get away.

2010-12-21T21:16:00.000-08:00

Who's on vacation? - THIS ~~GUY~~ GAL!

Oh boy, it is much needed. I will tell you that much. I will also tell you that putting up a gross photo of Sarah Palin with "Goin' Rogue!" written in red ink on your wall at work, as a joke, will get you and your friend/office cohabitant at least two awkward conversations about things that are office-appropriate. And then you will have no choice but to fill the empty space with this:

...which, let's be honest, will probably lead to more awkward conversations about what kind of conversations go on, exactly, in our little office space. For the record, mostly we do our work, think of ways to make our literacy event more awesome, and see how many boxes of books we can fit in a tiny space.

BUT none of that matters now because vacation for this blog person began at 4 o'clock this afternoon! Susannah and I went to Target so I could get a few items for the family steal-a-gift game to take place in Tucson in a few days, and then she had to go back to the office so she could get ditched by some horrible person who pretended to be interested in volunteering! No respect.

Tomorrow, Boyfriend and I will depart for the great state of Michigan, where we got 99 problems but overpopulation ain't one. We will only be in town until Christmas morning, at which time we will be on our way to Tucson, Arizona, which is a place you may recognize from the classic Steve Coogan film, "Hamlet 2."

I am so excited to have a brief visit with all my friends from high school and then head out to the desert to see the fam.

Merry Christmas to all, and catch you in the new year!

Blogging from Santaland

2010-12-19T08:22:00.000-08:00

We have less than a week until Christmas and Santa appears to have taken a leave of absence from the North Pole to ride around Chicago and spread Christmas "cheer."

Friday afternoon was the office holiday party, and we all went to a restaurant up on Bryn Mawr to stuff ourselves with a million courses of Italian food. Most people drove but I of course opted for the train, so after lunch I walked a block west to catch the Red at Bryn Mawr. I only waited a few minutes until a train pulled up to the 95/Dan Ryan side of the tracks - the SANTA train.

The Santa train is a special train that runs on the CTA during the holidays and runs on different tracks every day. So it was uh...lucky? that I ended up on it purely by accident. It was about 3:30 when I got on, so it wasn't terribly crowded in the beginning. The outside of the train is covered in Christmas lights, and has "Seasons Greetings" spelled out in lights along the side. The inside of the train is staffed with elves, complete with elf attire and pointy ears, and all of the lights in the cars are red and green, with candy cane-striped poles instead of the regular metal poles, and seats upholstered with Christmas print fabric. Christmas music plays on the speakers throughout the train, and the traditional ad space on the walls and ceilings of the cars is filled with ads for things like vacations to the North Pole or jokes about penguins.

I was excited to find myself traveling on the Santa car! I hadn't planned it at all and it seemed to be a jolly way to travel from Bryn Mawr to Harrison - a total of 16 stops. And it was jolly...for a while. Then, like most things, it was ruined by the fat families from the suburbs who probably planned the entire DAY around riding the Santa train and annoying us city-dwellers right out of the Christmas spirit. A few stops after a particularly hideous 'burb family got on the train, the man sitting next to me (on the window side) had to get off the train. I got up from my seat momentarily to let him out, but before I could sit back down in the inside seat, some little brat scooted in right behind me and stole it, and was followed by her gross dad, who must have noticed the disgusted look I gave him and said, "There's a seat right over there." Sorry for not being all "Oh, who cares, it's Christmas! I love everyone!" but I rolled my eyes at him and took the other seat. People sometimes...ugh.

When I finally got off the train at Harrison I paused for a second to take a picture of it to send to people who are not fortunate enough to have experienced the Santa train. That's when I noticed the craziest part about it! As the train started moving again, I saw that Santa indeed rides the train - in between two train cars there is a sleigh, and he rides it all around the city.

I have so many questions! Isn't it cold? Is that really safe? Maybe those are the only questions I have...but they seem like pretty important ones.

Boyfriend and I continued to get in the holiday spirit last night by seeing "The Santaland Diaries," which is a one-man interpretation of David Sedaris' Santaland Diaries that is absolutely not endorsed by David Sedaris. It was fun - sort of like an angrier, more militant gay version of the tale performed by an admitted Jewish man who drinks a martini the whole time. Before the show we had Japanese food, because our plan to go to Kuma's Corner for burgers was destroyed when we showed up to hear, "It'll be about a three, three-and-a-half hour wait." Uh?

The show was over by nine so we stopped at the grocery store on the way home to grab snacks. Sushi is not extremely filling, especially when you started the evening hungry enough for a giant hamburger. So we picked up three varieties of Ben & Jerry's and some mozzarella sticks! I think one of the reasons our roommate situation works out so well is that we both have a shared understanding of what types of food are good enough to occupy the largest percentage of our freezer. Currently the two shelves on the freezer door are filled with five varieties of ice cream. And we also have at least two types of salsa in the fridge. Priorities, people!

Leaving for Michigan on Wednesday - Arizona on Christmas!

Life in the urban tundra

2010-12-13T08:43:00.000-08:00

First off, I should mention that "tundra" is the incorrect way to describe the biome in which I currently reside. Uh, "biome" just got red-underlined by spellcheck, so apparently everything I learned in Environmental Systems class was a lie. Anyway, I just wanted to demonstrate that it is cold and snowy and it feels so cold that I wouldn't be surprised if a tribe of Nganasan came walking down the street at any moment, while I freeze to death.

This morning I decided to adopt a new life philosophy which involves doing only what is instructed by the wrappers of my Dove dark chocolates. I came to this decision upon reading the inside tin foil wrapper of my second chocolate before 9:30 AM, which said, "Sleep late tomorrow." And after reading that, I thought, "Thank you, Dove chocolate, don't mind if I do." I have a feeling that these chocolates will never say things like, "Lose ten pounds, fatty," or "Stop using food stamps to buy frozen pizzas and mixers for tequila." Therefore, my life will only improve by following the advice of my pieces of chocolate.

This weekend went by incredi-fast. Friday night was the dinner party chez Susannah, and it was fantastic. I went over to her apartment earlier in the day so we could prepare some food and watch part of "Whip It!" before the guests arrived. Then Susannah explained to everyone how to prepare my "seemingly sketchy" margaritas, and we had delicious food before getting into a rousing game of Catchphrase.

There's an unspoken tradition in Catchphrase, and I shall speak it now: racism. It's not a game of Catchphrase until someone (drunk or otherwise) lets slip something offensive or racially charged. The precedent was set for my friends a few years back, when our dear friends Dan and Jason confirmed everyone's suspicions as to why the government has sent them off to their respective posts as shining examples of American patriotism.

[Player finishes clue, passes Catchphrase to Dan]
Dan: Cuban national anthem.
[Pause]
Me: Oh God, this can't be good.
Colin: [nervous laughter]
Me: Oh please let it not be something horri-
Jason: ROW, ROW, ROW YOUR BOAT!
Dan: Got it!

So the other night, as the drinks flowed and the Catchphrase was passed more rapidly around our circle of ten, things started to get a little crazy. And I am not proud to admit what happened next.

[Boyfriend gets answer to clues, passes Catchphrase to me]
Me: [sees "Yellow River" on screen, panics internally]

When this happened, for some reason the color "yellow" could not have looked more foreign to me. My mind was blank. I tried to envision the color wheel and figure out what colors mix together to make yellow. But yellow is a primary color, so nothing makes yellow. What is yellow?!?!?!

Me: I really don't want to do this...but you were going to say something racist about Asian people...
Boyfriend: Oh no.
Me: You would say they are this...
Boyfriend: Oh no.
Teammate: Bad drivers?
Me: It's a color...
Boyfriend: Oh no.
[Loud laughter, someone(s) yells out "yellow!"]
Me: And it's not a stream but a -
Michael: RIVER!
Me: PUT IT TOGETHER!
Michael: YELLOW RIVER!
Me: [Throws Catchphrase, nearly hitting Susannah in the face as the timer buzzes mid-air]

That wasn't the only incident - I couldn't figure out a way to describe Morgan Freeman besides the fact that he is not the guy in the Allstate commercials. They have that same comforting voice! Of course this prompted Boyfriend to announce to everyone the fact that I have, on more than one occasion, needed him to remind me that Don Cheadle and Tim Meadows are not the same person - specifically that Don Cheadle was not the principal in "Mean Girls." Because I mix up these actors I am of course racist, even though I used to mix up Glenn Close and Meryl Streep all the time! I can't catch a break. I would also like to point out that the Yellow River is in China, and so I probably knew this deep inside which was what made it so hard to come up with any other clue besides blatant racism.

Saturday I babysat all day and night. Baby came with me to the holiday party that work has for the kids in the youth program in their families. He was somewhat petrified by the chaos and all the people, but they adored him and a bunch of the little girls came to play with him. He also got to meet the girl that I tutor, and we took a picture all together!

Then it snowed forever, Boyfriend returned from the hockey game in Ann Arbor, and we had Trader Joe's Chinese food and watched 30 Rock while I wrote l'autre blog, which went up this morning. Boyfriend's flight was canceled last night so he didn't have to leave until this morning...at 4 o'clock. The cycle of work and exhaustion has returned for the week.

Happy Monday!

1,000 Ways to Die...in Chicago

2010-12-07T20:54:00.000-08:00

My co-worker Susannah has a totally unfounded fear of the corner of Wilson and Broadway. Well, at least, I am trying hard to believe that it is unfounded, which is becoming increasingly difficult on days like today. Today, as I toiled away trying to edit an entire web site with minimal knowledge of HTML, Susannah decided to read me news stories about how many murders have occurred at the corner, to prove a point. Apparently people are just being shot - with guns! - in broad daylight, all the time, a block down the street. We usually don't stray too far south of Lawrence unless we're headed to what Emma refers to as "Fat Bastard Pizza" (because the cash register is manned by the title character) but the other day we met our friend Grant down there for falafel. Meanwhile, people are just busting caps, or whatever, all the time, right by the falafel place!

So now I have murder to worry about, in addition to my Great Winter Fear, which is hitting an icy patch, slipping off the L platform, and getting run over by a train. The thought occurs to me way too often, and I know that I grimace (noticeably) to myself as the vision runs through my brain. This is one of those things, I believe, that only occurs the second you forget that it could happen. So the important thing is to always be living in fear of falling off the L platform. It is the only way to ensure safety.

Speaking of the L, perhaps I missed an e-mail or something - was today "Crazies Ride Free Day?" I got a text message from Susannah after work because there was a woman screaming about how she was going to call the KGB on some old couple of Polish Nazis or something, whatever that means, and at first I thought, "Ha ha, that Broadway bus is disgusting!" But then, my normally calm ride from Berwyn to Harrison was interrupted by some large woman who plunked down in the seat opposite mine, wished everyone a Happy Hanukkah (so I thought maybe she was just a loud, perhaps semi-crazy lady with good intentions) and then started complaining about lesbians. She said "You guys are almost as bad as the guys, and I know not everyone likes the smell of a woman." Okay? You can have your Happy Hanukkah back now.

The problem with volunteering until 6 is that I get back to the apartment at 7, feel the need to stuff my face with the closest available bag of chips immediately, and then fall into a food coma for a few hours, until I realize that the gym is closing in 20 and I need to go work out. This pushes my night back far too late, and so now here I am - writing to you people and waiting for my laundry instead of climbing into bed.

I should probably get going...I'll never avoid crazies or death-by-train if I'm drowsy!

The age of makeshift margaritas

2010-12-07T14:23:00.000-08:00

Sorry for abandoning you, but things have gotten a little hectic lately. There's work, which I won't talk about, and then there's just everything else that's going on, such as the following:

- I texted my mother today because she sent me back to Chicago after Thanksgiving with a glass dish of lasagna. Since Boyfriend is gone during the week, I'm really the only one around to eat the lasagna, and I don't necessarily want to eat lasagna for every meal until it's gone. Even if I ate it breakfast, lunch, and dinner, it would probably take me at least a week to finish it. So I had to text my mother to see if I could put it back in the freezer in its glass dish, or if that would make it explode. I remember hearing that glass explodes when you freeze it...is that wrong? Apparently, because she said to put it back in there, or eat it within five days of when she gave it to me, which was last Friday.

- Last night, Susannah, Erica and I went out for dinner to celebrate Erica's somewhat-belated birthday. Since we're all strapped for cash (I had to pay $20 for my work holiday party...I'm still deeply offended by this fact and am going to continue to let it bother me forever) we opted for a BYOB Mexican place in Lakeview. The food was okay, but the real save was our makeshift margarita. Tequila, Diet Sierra Mist, and Crystal Light lemonade powder. Done. The restaurant had no bathroom, though, and it dawned on Erica and myself as we walked briskly through the subzero night air that this was a problem, many glasses of water and margaritas later. We tried banging on the door of a Starbucks as the employees closed up shop, but they were cold hearted Scrooges who forced us to go to Dunkin Donuts to use the facilities and purchase hot cocoa as a way of demonstrating our deepest gratitude. Then, by the time I got home it was 9:45 which is embarrassingly close to my bed time, and I committed my last hour awake to my Ben & Jerry's Cinnamon Buns ice cream.

I realized as I was about to finish this off that I didn't actually abandon anything, and I posted just two days ago. Is the week seriously going by that slowly?? GET ME OUT. Friday night is the big dinner soiree chez Susannah, so perhaps that will provide some entertaining stories...or something. Adios.

Let it snow!

2010-12-05T10:57:00.000-08:00

There is snow on the ground in Chicago! That's about all there is to report here because the cold weather makes doing anything outside of perusing Netflix for standup comedy specials less than appealing. However, I did meet up with Nurse Jen for dinner last night. We had tapas and sangria at Ba Ba Ree Ba and it was deeeelicious. Since I have dedicated this year to living in poverty, I haven't been going out to eat...at all, really. So that made spending $25 on food, beverage, and dessert for one night completely acceptable. After dinner, we went back to the Loop and perused some sort of German market that was being overrun by what Boyfriend refers to as "Fat Humps" and their spawn. Today, Boyfriend and I are going to attempt to find a Christmas tree that will fit in our little apartment. But actually, this will only happen if we can make it to the Christmas tree lot before I punch him in the face, for he is currently marching around the apartment singing a song he made up about how he is always right about everything.

*Update: we got our tree and she is beautiful, despite her miniature frame! Here she is, along with myself, Beary, and Rambo, wishing you a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and all that other stuff!

Tutoring has changed a bit because I have been assigned to an individual pupil! This is great news for me, because I no longer have to spend my walk from the L to the church wondering if I will, once again, be confronted with an algebra worksheet that results more in questioning my own worth than it does a successful homework assignment for the boy or girl sitting next to me. The girl I will be working with is a freshman in high school and a Burundian refugee. Her parents were part of a group referred to as the "1972 Burundians" and you can find out more about Burundian refugees in the video which I will post below. This girl was lucky enough to get into a great school in the area, but this also presents challenges because she is so far behind. Prior to coming to the United States, she had barely any formal schooling. When I think about what I was doing my freshman year of high school, it's overwhelming to realize that students such as Domi are faced with all of these assignments and expectations on top of needing to learn English and catch up on every subject.

So far we have worked together twice, and I am really looking forward to tutoring for the next however-many months. I'm going to post a video about Burundian refugees from 2007, when they were resettled in the United States.

"F#$K YOU, BLAIR!" - Winter

2010-11-30T20:22:00.001-08:00

Holy expletive, it is cold. I left the apartment this morning comfortable in my pea coat, gloves, and scarf, and by the time I left the office to go to tutoring, I felt like Winter had driven its Jeep Cherokee onto my front yard, broken into my house, slapped my mom in the face, given me a swirly in my own toilet, and watched me cower in terror on the kitchen floor as it laughed, smoked a cigarette, and repeatedly kicked me in the face. So, commence hibernation! Today's schedule originally included a trip to the gym, but I don't think that kind of after-work activity is on the horizon for, oh, five months or so. At least when I start bikram yoga in January, I will get to experience a tropical climate for 90 minutes a day, even if it smells like a thousand armpits.

I am sorry to report that I'm pretty much over "16 & Pregnant." Note: I am not over "Teen Mom." We are just in between seasons. But seriously, "16&P" should be shut down immediately, because it doesn't take a hundred episodes of the same thing to draw the conclusion that procreating in between high school classes is a misguided choice. Message received. The stories just keep getting more and more upsetting, not because of any sympathy for the future monster the baby is going to turn out to be but because it shows how many stupid teenagers there are in this country. This whole "I'm from this Podunk hick town in Indiana and I don't know how sex works" excuse is a sorry one. You have cable TV and an iPhone...you know that doing it without a condom means you're going to end up with an accident. How about a show about teenagers I can relate to...like "16 & Memorizing the Dialogue to the Movie 'You Got Served'" or "16 & Really Into Guacamole?"

So that's that. Also, sweet potatoes are my worst enemy. I love them. They are delicious. They do not cook the way they are supposed to cook...ever. I can cook pretty well when I set my mind to it, and no matter what I do, sweet potatoes refuse to do as I command. So now I have a half-baked sweet potato sitting on the other end of the counter and no idea what to do with it. I can't be wasting food, though, because if it is seriously going to be this cold from now until the sun returns to the Earth, I will have to save every morsel of food to avoid stepping out of the house. Hibernation is great!

Moving Back (and Forth)

2010-11-29T19:55:00.000-08:00

Welcome back! I write to you puke-free (I wish my boots could say the same...) and after mostly coming to terms with the end of Thanksgiving weekend. The good news is that Christmas will be here soon, so I just have to survive and not vom myself to death for a few weeks, and then through the holidays. Hand-san is mah best friend.

Whenever I take a trip away from the apartment alone - usually back to Michigan - coming back to the apartment is more complicated than just lugging my suitcase/duffel up to the [lucky] 13th floor. Unfortunately, since Boyfriend is still working out in LA, he flew out from Detroit and so I was on my own for the drive back and subsequent re-entry into our apartment. The drive went smoothly enough, as David Sedaris' "Holidays On Ice" kept me entertained and semi-alert across Michigan and through the beginning of Indiana. It ended about where Indiana starts to smell so I just radio-surfed from there until Chicago. My mum filled the car up with gas before I left and I didn't have to refuel at all the whole time, which is good because I hate stopping. I only stopped once west of Jackson for some custard from Culver's. The one benefit of being disgustingly sick over Thanksgiving was that I lost a few pounds, so not only did I avoid post-Thanksgiving guilt, but I also got to indulge in custard that I would otherwise avoid.

Unloading the car was what I was really dreading, and it proved to be about as unpleasant as I imagined it would be. Somehow, I usually go back to Michigan with a duffel bag and maybe an extra bag of laundry or two. But I always come back with a packed car of clothes, appliances, and other items. This time, I brought back some Christmas decorations for the tree that Boyfriend and I are going to get, along with some extra things of Boyfriend's that I had to bring back for him. So at 11 PM, I got to make four trips to unpack the car. It was cold and dark and it was not the best, but it wasn't raining so I can't really complain.

The worst part of coming back to an empty apartment by myself is having to go through a ritual that has somehow become a normal part of my life. Whenever I leave the apartment for an hour, a day, a week or more, I have to conduct a thorough search to make sure the pesky hobo my mind has invented has not managed to make himself at home in the apartment while I was out. So far, I have not come back to find this hobo living in the front hall closet, under the bed or in the bathtub, but each time I leave and come back, I remember that he could have picked the lock and made himself at home this time. At this time I am pleased to report that the apartment appears to be hobo-free, but that's why I conduct my thorough searches.

Last night when I put on my rain noise ("Rolling Thunder") to go to sleep, it ran for about 30 seconds and then shut off entirely. I leaned over the side of the bed to check my laptop and noticed that the power was off. It was plugged in, so I started to wonder if leaving my laptop on all night to play rain noise was maybe not such a good idea after all. It wouldn't turn on no matter how many times I pressed the power button, so I decided that I probably killed it and should also probably do something about it in the morning. Tonight I spent about 20 minutes on the phone with someone named "Shiny" in India, who taught me that when you have something plugged into an outlet that is broken, the thing that is plugged in tends to not work. So thanks, Shiny. Unfortunately, the colors of my laptop's screen are still inverted and Shiny did not seem to know how to do anything about that.

So until next time, I am signing off and closing my laptop screen, which is a shade of blue.

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner.

2010-11-23T11:18:00.000-08:00

Until yesterday, I always struggled to answer the question, "What is your most embarrassing moment?" I could never decide if it was the time a girl in Kindergarten tricked me into calling another girl a bad word that I didn't understand, the time I got in trouble for laughing during English class (with now-Boyfriend, by the way), or the time my rollerskating leg wound started bleeding while I was in Paris and all of my friends had to take care of me.

Well, the mystery ended yesterday!

I went to work feeling okay yesterday. The bus was especially crowded and there was a traffic jam on Lake Shore, but it was nothing bad enough to ruin a perfectly good morning. Things were actually going my way - I finished a project I had been working on and got excited to begin the next stage of it. Everything was fine until a little while before lunch.

I started feeling not-so-great a few minutes before Susannah and I went out to grab grilled cheese and onion rings (or in her case, pizza and fries) across the street. For some reason, I decided to ignore logic and fill my body with grease in hopes that it would make me feel better. And while the grilled cheese tasted delicious as I was eating it, the consequences were yet to come.

After lunch, I started feeling really horrible. My stomach hurt, and my forehead felt that way it does when you have a fever and it's all clammy and gross. Since my stomach has been sensitive lately, I decided to, for once, give it some attention and go to the nearest CVS for some Pepto and water. Unfortunately, the nearest CVS to work is a bus ride away, so I got to spend an uncomfortable 10 minutes on a bus with some horrible specimen of human screaming at her son Aidan, and then another even more uncomfortable 10 minutes on the bus ride back with an old man talking to himself about how this is why they call it the Windy City! By the time I got back to work, I knew a little pink medicine wasn't going to help me, but I drank it anyway. About a half hour later, I left work feeling just as awful as I had earlier.

Once on the train, things started going downhill. I was feeling really sick, and the motion of the L was not helping. Luckily, the train is not terribly crowded at 2:30, especially coming from Uptown. So I curled up in a window seat and spent most of the ride with my eyes closed, telling myself to feel better. Then, at the Fullerton stop, a large girl and her friend got on the train. The large girl was really excited about something - being on the train, going downtown, who knows - and decided to take all her energy and sit next to me, where she was all up in my personal space.

We passed North/Clybourn, and then, about 30 seconds before stopping at Clark/Division, still six stops and a bus ride away from home, it happened. My head got all weird and I was dizzy, and even though it had been about 8 years since I had thrown up (truth), I knew it was happening. I exited the train quickly, but to my dismay there was no garbage can to be seen. I ran around the corner into an area without any bystanders to see if there would be one there, but there was not. And by that point I couldn't stop myself anymore. With a train of people still sitting directly behind me, I puked all over Clark/Division.

Aside from being totally horrified, I actually felt a little physically better. Now, perhaps the "adult" thing to do in this situation would be to report the incident to the CTA staff at the stop, but in my moment of terror, all I could do was look around to make sure no one saw, and then walk very quickly to the end of the platform to congratulate myself for always keeping a paper towel in my lunch bag.

To make matters worse, as soon as I came up to street level to wait for my dad to pick me up and take me home (I decided a bus ride at this point would probably not be a wise choice) a bum approached me and asked, "Excuse me, can I please take you home with me? Can I take you home and have sex with you?" I really wanted to punch him in the face and ask him if he was aware that I just publicly vomited all over a CTA stop, but I couldn't even work up the energy to do so. So I just said, "Ohhhhh no" and crossed the street.

Most embarrassing moment: fulfilled.

Happy Thanksgiving week! Here's hoping I am feeling better by turkey time.

Orient Yourself!

2010-11-19T14:19:00.000-08:00

My mother thinks that this blog is going to make me famous. At this point, I should probably promote her to Blog Fan #1, but that would devastate my current Blog Fan #1, who is in law school and probably has enough stress in her life without me calling her to tell her she has been demoted, because of my mom. Plus, current Blog Fan #1 did give me handmade socks, knit by her mother...whereas all my mother did was raise me...so it's tough to really decide on the appropriate action to take, ce moment.

I, on the other hand, do not have very high hopes for this blog's potential to make me any sort of living, not because I lack confidence or whatever but because what is this blog about, really? If I were to submit it to some sort of contest, there would be absolutely no box to check that would really describe what it is that goes on here. Political? Not really...except for my extreme Palin family hatred, which a) probably hasn't even been a topic on le blog and b) doesn't count because they are a circus, not a respectable family in politics. Family? Hmm...I may have mentioned them a few times. Entertainment? Hobbies? What IS this thing? Half the time I'm ranting about a bunch of underage mothers and posting text messages from my gay friend whose blog name is based on an inside joke from high school, and when I'm not doing that, I'm sharing heartfelt stories about refugee children or attacking Glamour magazine. But I guess that is my life at the moment! That is my post-grad reality. Refugee relief, long-distance gay friend texting, and the saga of Gary and Amber, Teen Tragedies. Oh, and of course, food stamps.

Today was one of those days where everything came together, sort of! And by that I mean that the chaos in my mind came face to face with reality, which resulted in real craziness, happening before my eyes.

As you may have figured out by now, I work at a refugee resettlement agency, and it's a wonderful place to be. Although my job doesn't involve too much interaction with clients, I volunteer at the after-school program and occasionally participate in program activities. That was the case today! Susannah and I attended an orientation today, which is something for refugees who have very recently arrived in the United States. We were asked to attend so we could help out wherever necessary. We left this morning, in another program staffer's van - me, Susannah, two translators, a former VISTA and current youth program person Emma, a refugee en route to the doctor, and a dad refugee with his little son. Yes, we were all riding in ONE van. Our first stop was the clinic, where the first client had to go for an appointment "for a minute," as Emma put it. Emma took this client into the clinic while the rest of us waited in the van, which had been, for some reason, parked in someone's driveway next to the clinic, and was completely blocking the sidewalk, so passersby had to walk around the car while looking into the windows probably thinking "What in the...?" While Emma and the client were in the clinic for approximately a thousand years, we sat and some of us chatted, but mostly it was quiet, aside from the Euro techno music pumping through the car. This went on for most of the time we were sitting out there, until the music abruptly stopped, the car made a few beeping noises, and all went silent. Susannah and I looked at each other and shrugged, and then we all continued to sit in the car in silence.

Finally, Emma returned to the car, and we were all excited to get to the orientation. She hopped in the driver's seat, turned the ignition, and...nothing. She tried again...nothing. "Why isn't it starting...Ohhhhhh no." The car had been left idle too long, and we needed a jump. Now, this may not sound terribly chaotic or disastrous - cars need to be jump started all the time. However, please keep in mind that we - myself, Susannah, our Nepali translator, Burmese translator, the man and his son, and Emma - were packed into a minivan, stranded in Uptown, and were already late for orientation. An orientation for recent arrivals to the United States. So the man and his son just got to America, I don't know, a week or two ago, they don't speak any English, the van has broken down for seemingly no reason, and everyone seems to be concerned about something.

Thankfully, this is America, so when stranded in the middle of the sidewalk it is only a matter of time before a truck full of friendly Mexicans comes along to help you out, right? Right! I joined in with Emma, Indra (the Nepali translator) and our new Mexican compadres in pushing the van closer to the truck so the men could give us a jump. A few minutes later, we were back in business. Languages heard and spoken by 10:30 AM: Nepali, Burmese, Assyrian, Arabic, and Spanish.

Dear Ungrateful Americans,
Remember that time your car broke down and we helped you fix it even though most of you think we are stealing your jobs, assume we don't pay taxes (we do pay taxes, BY THE WAY) and generally treat us like shit?
YOU'RE WELCOME.
Sincerely,
Tus vecinos del sud

That is my letter to my countrymen, on behalf of the nice gentlemen who helped us get on our way today, and all other Mexican immigrants, legal or otherwise.

Luckily, we were only a little late to orientation, and we still got there in time to witness chaos and extreme lack of cultural awareness, on the part of a local Fire Marshall. She was explaining the course of action one would take if caught in an apartment fire - the basic things, like feeling the door with the back of one's hand, not inhaling smoke, and not hiding in your closet. The refugees were sitting in groups based on language spoken, because there was a translator for each group. Apparently the Fire Marshall thought it would be useful to incorporate audience participation into her presentation, and began to address the groups of refugees like so:

"So who do we have back there, Koreans? You all Korean? No? Chinese, then?"

*EXTREME CRINGE*

We were hoping that things would move on from there and perhaps this first question was lost in translation, but the next question wasn't much better...

"So how many of you leave the Christmas lights on your tree when you go to bed?"

First of all. This was an orientation for a group of refugees - mostly from Iraq, Burma, and Bhutan - who arrived less an a month ago in the United States. I doubt that there are very many Christmas lights in Thai refugee camps, unless maybe that recently became a priority over running water and people not getting harmed in various ways. Perhaps the World Food Programme is now dropping Christmas ornaments and nutcrackers instead of bags of rice. But that is unlikely. So what percentage of the audience at this orientation do you suppose decided to spend what little they have on a giant tree to put in their apartment to honor a holiday they don't celebrate? I'm going to guess...none. None percent. Second of all, you would think that a room with a significant amount of women wearing head scarves might suggest that perhaps not everyone is going to deck the halls this Christmas. But hey, maybe the Fire Marshall was just covering all the bases, or she knows something I don't. It's quite possible.

Not wanting to stick around for any more fire safety ("So hey, all you Koreans, when you're lighting your Christmas trees in your teepees or whatever, you gotta make sure to unplug them or else they will set your teepee on fire and probably kill all your goats"), Emma, Susannah and I headed out to the Indian restaurant where we picked up two massive trays of biryani for the orientation lunch. At the end of the day, Susannah and I handed out hats, gloves, and scarves to everyone in attendance. All in all it was a crazy, weird, and yet totally normal day.

Things My Glamour Taught Me

2010-11-15T18:44:00.000-08:00

I write to you this evening with a heavy heart, as I flip through the pages of the last Glamour magazine that I will ever receive, for the rest of my life. We can only hope.

Once upon a time, I asked my mother for a subscription to Glamour magazine, because I probably picked one up at CVS and saw a half-page article about Darfur and assumed that every issue of Glamour would be jam-packed with timely and insightful journalism fit for young and eager readers like myself.

Glamour and I got along okay for a while, as I learned many new things – like that coral is a color that flatters every skin tone, and that pretty much every problem in life can be cured by unwavering self-confidence that one can apparently will to exist. But eventually, as in any friendship that is built on shaky ground, Glamour and I grew apart, because I realized that Glamour is the magazine equivalent of an annoying sorority sister who claims her favorite song is Lil Wayne’s “Lollipop” and thinks that Tina Fey as Sarah Palin is hilarious, but doesn’t actually know who Sarah Palin is.

Tonight, I bid farewell to this girly magazine. But first, let’s see what lessons Glamour can teach us, one last time.

Lesson #1: Fergie is the most important woman this year, or something?

December’s cover features Fergie, aka the girl from Black Eyed Peas (and “Kids Incorporated,” which, if I remember correctly, was about a bunch of street children who performed musical covers in a bar, as seen in the below video. Side note: Apparently Mario Lopez is in there, too? Where is he?!). She is wearing a velvet “boyfriend blazer,” which is a trend that Glamour loves because it reminds readers that even their jackets want them to have boyfriends. She is not, however, wearing any pants, but the inside cover reminds us that key ingredients to obtaining Fergie’s “sexy cover look” include “sultry hair, makeup and a boyfriend ~~blazer~~: P.S. don’t forget to add pants!” You had me there, Glamour. I was so caught up trying to figure out how to make my hair look sultry that I almost left the house partially nude. Thank goodness you stopped me!

Lesson #2: Glamour’s other readers are really smart, but you, with the magazine, are an idiot.

Glamour has a page each issue called “Is it a Do or a Don’t?” which challenges readers to vote on a variety of pressing issues. One time, it was about hobo bags, and another time, it was about head bands, and well, if you haven’t been reading there’s just a lot that you have missed and not very much time to catch you up on all of it. But this issue, we are deciding the fate of polka dots. Of course, Glamour’s other readers have always voted already, and they don’t accept absentee ballots. This month, 72% of Glamour’s readers voted for polka dots, while 28% believe that they are a Don’t. I’m not sure these numbers are completely accurate, though, because I’m sure there is at least a group of 2% that wonders what could have happened on November 2^nd had all these voters been at the actual American polls instead of the imaginary Glamour polls, which probably operate in the basement of Forever 21 and are patrolled by Ke$ha.

Lesson #3: It’s called the “Kooky Chic,” and it’s all the rage, in case you haven’t noticed.

Have you seen a lot of girls running around in neon tights paired with tweed skirts and T-shirts with pandas on them? Neither have I! We must not be hanging out in the right places, though, because this look is called “kooky chic” and it was apparently huge in 2010. How do we achieve this look? Glamour explains: 1. Channel your inner two-year-old. See the panda bear tee here and realize: Clothes are meant to be fun, so pick one piece that makes you smile. When I was two years old, Cookie Monster and pancakes from McDonalds made me smile. I also wore arm-floaties in the pool. How do I incorporate these things into my outfits? 2. Then raid Granny’s closet. The contrast between a ladylike tweed skirt and, say, a silly T-shirt is what says style genius. Okay, I sort of understand this concept, except I’m pretty sure that neither of my grandmothers owns a tweed miniskirt, and I am glad. All I really know about my grandmother’s closet is that somewhere, there is a boot that contains a whole bunch of cash. 3. And add one “you”-niform piece. The boots you put on every day? An oversize men’s jacket? Wear them to death, and make them your signature thing. WEAR THEM TO DEATH. KILL YOUR FAVORITE BOOTS UNTIL THEY SCREAM “KOOKY CHIC” OVER AND OVER WHILE BLOOD POURS OUT OF THEM AND THEY DIE.

Lesson #4: Women come in four distinct shapes.

You can only buy clothes if you fall into one of these categories: petite, plus-size, busty, or pear-shaped. Either that, or these are the categories of women with the worst understanding of kooky chic, whereas everyone else gets it and doesn’t need it explained over four additional pages.

Lesson #5: Unless you want to get fat, you will not enjoy yourself at any holiday parties this year.

It’s so nice of Glamour, telling us what we should and should not eat. Sometimes Glamour’s insights are for the ignorant eaters among us – ranch dressing, as it turns out, has a lot of calories! Go figure! But since Glamour is deeply committed to reaching every woman with even a slightly conflicted relationship with her body image, this issue features a full page about various holiday party foods and the havoc they will wreak on our bodies. Want to fit into that sequined dress a few pages pack? Stay away from crab dip, brie, spinach dip, martinis, wine, eggnog, chocolate pie, cherry pie, pecan pie, joy, happiness, and merriment. A December diet of bean dip and champagne is best, because when you’re not minimizing calories, you will be barfing yourself to death, making you even skinnier and, as a result, more attractive to potential New Year’s Eve dates (assuming you don’t have a boyfriend, which is sad).

Lesson #6: Your boyfriend is a complicated creature who can be understood only through cartoons, polls taken from random male strangers on the streets of various U.S. cities, and someone called a “dude whisperer.”

Let’s be honest. The most entertaining section in any magazine is usually the “men, love, and life” section, or its equivalent, unless you’re reading Cosmopolitan in which case you should know that you just paid $3.99 for Amber’s 16 & Pregnant “How To” manual. Glamour offers particularly amusing insights into the male psyche, because there is just so much going on up there, in between fantasy football strategies and daydreams about the McRib. Usually, Glamour just throws together a bunch of half-assed “statistics” about the scale of porn habit appropriateness and calls it an issue. But this month we have been treated to a full feature story about someone called the “Dude Whisperer.” Apparently this is some person named Josh Aiello, whose Google search results indicate that he is a colossal tool who also wrote something called “A Field Guide to the Urban Hipster.” According to him, “figuring out a dude can be tougher than finding the right bra size.” He knows this...how? In Glamour, he answers a series of dumb questions from girls who are freaked out that their boyfriends watch “The Real Housewives” and always want to “do it from behind” (ha ha, what?) and then goes on to “translate” a series of phrases from Dude-ish into English. We learn that “Is there anything in the fridge?” means “What are you making for dinner?” There should probably be a third column in this chart, entitled, “The proper response,” which in this case would be to spring to action and start whipping up a fine, home-cooked meal for your genius boyfriend while he ogles all the girl characters from “Community” on the Internet.

Lesson #7: There are times when women should be seen and not heard.

Did you know there are times when you should not bother men at all? It is forbidden in the Book of Glamour. These times include: when he’s watching a beer, car, or freecreditreport.com commercial, right before sex, at 7:35 PM, when the two of you are sitting at a bar next to strangers, as he’s digging into a bowl of chocolate ice cream, and when you’re raising the same grievance you’ve raised 74 times this month. I’m not sure what exactly happens at 7:35 PM, but all the other times seem easy enough to remember. Oh wait, was it a GEICO commercial or a Burger King commercial…I can’t remember! I shall stay silent throughout all commercials, just in case. Question, though – what are we supposed to do while we’re sitting at a bar next to strangers? Stare into each other’s eyes? What if a freecreditreport.com commercial is on the TV in the background…do those things cancel each other out? UGHHHH BRAIN MELTDOWN. Too many complicated things to remember about the care and keeping of males, and I just can't seem to find the common sense necessary to help me figure out that my boyfriend doesn't want to talk to me while he's watching TV. We women are such simple folk…just leave us alone when Miley Cyrus comes on the radio or Jon Hamm comes on the TV. Ugh…Glamour probably told me to say that.

Final words of wisdom from our friend, Glamour? “Your bag was stolen, giving you the best excuse ever to buy a new, even nicer bag. Joke’s on you, robber man!” Yeah! SCREW FINANCIAL RESPONSIBILITIES. I'mma blow $500 on a giant purple bag, just like the one I saw on that girl from "The Hills!" Also, “maybe the firemen will be hot” and “well, at least you know the air bags work.” That’s what women think to themselves after they burn their houses down with curling irons and crash their cars, because they can’t drive. Finally: “The baby. The baby is the silver lining even though you just got a million stitches down there.” Aside from how gross that is, I think it’s a little premature to assume that Glamour’s readers are going to be reproducing anytime soon, since they don’t seem to have a handle on how to talk to guys, dress their pear-shaped bodies, or operate moving vehicles. But, uh, thanks for the inspiring words, Glamour, as always. It’s been real.

I was having a bad day...

2010-11-10T19:16:00.000-08:00

I started writing this post after Frustration #5,000 on a day that started out looking not-so-great and progressively got worse, except for the 15-minute period during which Susannah and I were convulsing with laughter over a blog about horrible engagement photos. If you work in a serious office, you should not google "awesomely bad engagement photos" and proceed to look at them. You have been warned!

The only good part about my commute this morning was that it did not include my least-favorite bus passenger, Gidget 2010. This chick, with her phone-talking and engagement-ring-announcing, is the worst thing to happen to 7:30 AM since Mariah Carey videos shown on AMTV. She always looks like she's kind of nervous to be riding the bus (probably because there are less white people on the bus than in her condo) and she always has her phone out, like it's protecting her from being too close to non-white people. I know it's not nice, but I glare extra-hard at her every single morning. I can hear this girl talking over my iPod. And it's not like I'm commuting to Sufjan Stevens or The Whisper Song (ha ha, remember The Whisper Song?). I purposely select loud, peppy music in an effort to drown out her incessant chirping and prevent myself from getting too cheesed off before 8 o'clock rolls around.

Like I said, this morning, Gidget was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she found another bus on which to harass strangers ("EXCUSE ME, would you mind throwing this *holds up coffee* in that trash can? THANKYOUSOMUCH") and show them her newly acquired diamond. Whatever happened, it didn't stop this morning from being a total horror. There were at least 30 people at my bus stop when I managed to drag myself out to the curb. Last night I went to a film screening at UC and didn't end up getting to bed until almost 1 (in the morning!). So this morning was especially harsh. I got to the bus stop and saw a bajajajajillion people, and knew it was just going to be one of those horrible, horrible days. It was like I was in a bad mood when I fell asleep, then woke up this morning, and that anger/despair was still overwhelmingly present. That kind of miserable. Fifteen minutes of standing at that God forsaken bus stop, and a bus finally arrived. Unfortunately, there were already a kazillion people packed in like a bunch of sardines, and the driver wouldn't even let me body surf my way onto the bus. So I had to wait another fifteen minutes for a different bus (at this point, knowing I would be at least fifteen minutes late for work) and when the next bus finally arrived, it wasn't much of an improvement, although I was able to board. I'm going to get political for a second and suggest that maybe if people were willing to pay, I don't know, $5 more in taxes a year, or whatever, we could have buses that don't jeopardize our safety and mental well-being every single morning. And then maybe more people could get to work on time, and lead productive lives, and so forth. But you know what, that sounds too reasonable, so I think I'd rather elect a moronic lunatic to each facet of government, so they can kill all the buses and turn them into Biblemobiles. Brilliant.

Clearly, I was not in the best frame of mind when I arrived at work. Things at work were normal, but when you're in a bad mood, the little frustrations that would normally annoy you for a minute and a half end up ruining your entire morning, or lunch, or afternoon. The gross engagement photo laugh session provided a good break, but overall there was a big rain cloud hanging over my desk. Actually, it was hovering over Susannah's desk, too. It was pretty much occupying our entire little office.

And then I went to the after-school program.

I spent the last forty five minutes covering the front desk, which can be an extremely stressful position. Luckily, it was the end of the day, so no one showed up with any pressing concerns or family emergencies. I left work feeling discouraged. The minute I stepped out the door, some guy with a clipboard approached me and before I could scream, "SIR, KINDLY BACK OFF" he asked me about so-and-so for such-and-such a position and I informed him that I am not a resident, sorry, and he was polite, and then I went to the CTA stop. I took the train, and I walked to the building which houses the youth program. And then I sat down with a teenager from Burma who was putting together a poem for his English class.

He had written three poems as assigned by his teacher. One was called "Where I'm From," and the others were "Stereotypes" and "Who I Am Now." His assignment was to pick apart each poem and put them all together into one poem - "Who Was I Then? Who Am I Now?" It was an assignment for his entire class - not an ESL group or anything. Reading his words, I wondered how interesting his classmates' poems could possibly be. "I was born in Chicago. I live in Chicago. I like 'Jackass 3D' and staring at the ceiling." Next week, he has to present his poem to his class in a reading. We sat at the table as he cut each line out separately, and then arranged the lines in a new order.

His poem was filled with different feelings about where he came from - Burma - and where he is now. He said he is from where poor and homeless people live, and where people do not know how to treat each other. He said he lived without freedom. He is from the tallest mountain in Burma, and the water is so cold that it feels like ice, but when you drink it, it calms you down. His farm looks like the colors on a map - brown, green, yellow. "Moved and moved and moved." He felt lost, and didn't know where he belonged. Now that he is here, he feels that he can fulfill his dreams, and he would like all his friends to see him now. But he also wants you to know that Burmese do not hate their country. He loves his country and his family. He knows what he wants for the future. The last lines?

I am from corn and rice.

I am from volleyball and soccer.

When I mentioned to a few people that I wanted to volunteer after work, I felt like everyone was surprised and impressed. It made me feel kind of embarrassed, like maybe they thought I was just trying to get my foot in the door of every corner of the office. But the reality is that I can't imagine doing the items in my job description without volunteering. Why would I just show up to work, put in my hours, and go home, when I could go two L stops north, spend an hour with a teenager working on his poetry project, and return to the apartment feeling a thousand times better than I did at lunchtime? Of course, I don't volunteer to make myself feel better. I do it because I truly love it, and because I hope that I am making a difference in at least some small way. But in either case, my day goes from frustrating and discouraging to beautiful and inspiring, and I settle back into the apartment at night feeling refreshed and ready to try again tomorrow. And suddenly, the bad parts of the day just sort of disappear.

Mormons, please clarify.

2010-11-08T17:17:00.000-08:00

Up until now, I had categorized Mormons into two separate groups: the freakish, ass-backwards kind as featured on "Sister Wives" and as demonstrated in the following clip:

...and the probably-normal Mormons who reject this kind of insanity. However, my co-VISTA/Floridian friend Susannah recently got married, and in the weeks prior to her wedding, she and I spent some time on the wedding blogosphere looking for ideas that she could use for her reception- DIY decorations, song ideas, things of that nature. It was then that I discovered a third Mormon category: trendy Mormons. I was looking through possible ideas for Susannah on one blog in particular, and found that a lot of the venues were described as a "local LDS temple" or "Santa Barbara LDS temple." At first, I didn't think much of it. Probably just what Californians call the VFW hall, right? Then I remembered that LDS stands for Latter Day Saints, so all these super-white people with their hipster haircuts and vintage themed weddings were Mormons. I'm a fan of dresses with sleeves - or at least straps - myself, and I had been so impressed by all the non-frumpy dresses depicted in these photos; they were not frumpy, and yet they were pretty conservative. I felt so fooled! The fancy lighting, the ultra-creative decorations...is it all just making up for the total lack of booze (I'm guessing) at these wedding receptions? And here's a question - do these "cool" Mormons follow any specific political pattern? It's hard for me to believe that this group of people (apparently located in California and other areas out West) could spend one afternoon eating vegan wedding cake and registering for gifts on the NPR web site and the next voting Republican. I am just so, so confused about this development. Someone must clarify the reality of the Mormon religion!

South Side thoughts and "Cami Secret" questions

2010-11-07T18:00:00.000-08:00

Live from my denim chair, it's Sunday night! I write to you this evening while flipping between "Brokeback Mountain" and "The Muppets Take Manhattan," and simultaneously searching for articles from which to blog. I spent a lovely day up in the 'burbs with my friends (one Floridian, one Texan) and helping them prepare for the coming winter. So who decided to build all these outdoor malls in Chicago and the surrounding suburbs? What a ridiculously stupid idea! Thankfully it was nice today, so we didn't have to trudge through the snow in between stores, but that can't be fun during the winter months. At least I won't have to try and keep myself from shopping, I guess.

I dropped off Floridian at her apartment on my way home, and she lives in a cool area! I was a little prejudiced against it when I first heard about her neighborhood, because it seemed awfully close to Wrigleyville - and I mean AWFUL-ly close, because I associate Wrigleyville with things that are awful. But her little street and neighborhood seemed nice! Boyfriend doesn't want to move north, because we're cool South Siders now and the North side is for wimps! I'm happy with our South Side 'hood at the moment - the apartment is great, neighborhood is beautiful, and I haven't had a real urge to go barhopping so far, so that's not an issue. But it would be nice to be a little closer to transportation, and to fun. Maybe if I were closer to fun, there would be more fun to be had? All I can really say at this point is that I went to the Village Foods tonight to get orange juice and saw a guy purchase Colt 45 and then give it to a bum...maybe that happens on the North side, too, but it kind of made me wonder about...life.

I need to get to bloggin' (for l'autre blog) but before I go, let's consider this commercial that I just saw, on the channel that's showing "The Muppets Take Manhattan."

So basically this is a bib/boob-napkin that you are supposed to hook onto your bra when you go to work? Does anyone seriously need this "invention?" Who has ever had that much trouble just wearing a tank top underneath a shirt? I'm just slightly confused...I'm not sure anyone has the answers.

Here's the good news of the weekend: my food stamps are indeed working! I can now buy food.

Hanging out with le blog on the worst night in America

2010-11-02T19:00:00.000-07:00

The Internet has been repaired, so I am now logged back into 2010 and enduring much suffering on The Facebook, as people who friended me even though we are only acquaintances via our parents and maybe went to pre-school together or something and are now spending junior year of college getting alcohol poisoned in Ohio or wherever, for fun, post inane statuses about how happy this night is, because Republicans = more money for mom and dad to pay for booze. Hooray! Wow this place (country) sucks tremendously right now. BUT MOVING ON.

Some weird things have happened lately! But I haven't been able to tell you about them, because of the shaky Internet. I have been reading about a book per week thanks to my delightfully long commute, so yesterday I was without reading material in the afternoon. And I was on the train, and realized that someone smelled like melon - but like, old melon, melon that has been sitting on the kitchen counter for too long. So it was kind of gross. This got me thinking about how certain foods smell really bad out of context. Certain foods are just awful if you are not the one eating them. The best examples I can provide would have to be movie theatre popcorn and hot dogs. Have you ever been at a movie, not eating popcorn, and smelled popcorn from someone sitting nearby? IT'S GROSS. It smells awful. Same with hot dogs. I am a big fan, but sometimes on the train after a baseball game, there are hot dog-smelling people everywhere, and it's absolutely horrific.

Naturally, as my mind wandered between foods that do and do not smell good out of context, I started making a mental note of other things that are just bothersome, in life. And that is how I ended up with an actual physical list of these things in the back of my planner. I told my coworker about this list today, and then realized that if I were to - GOD FORBID - lose my precious agenda, and the finder of my agenda opened my "Notes" section, he/she would probably laugh at me and/or freak out.

THINGS I DISLIKE
-Use of apostrophe for plurals ("plural's;" "cat's")
-Urban backpackers
-handle-less grocery bags
-loud girl in morning
-fake stories about tragic events i.e. the Holocaust
-WES ANDERSON!!!! Has he been to India? Who decided Owen Wilson could act? He did.
-People who try to pick up girls at DHS
-Foods that smell bad out of context (hot dogs, popcorn)

Ha ha, Boyfriend will probably not like the sixth item of this list. But seriously, I just can't get behind Wes Anderson. Except for maybe "Life Aquatic." Whatever!

Explanation of the rest of the list? Uh, who started the rumor that apostrophes are used to make words plural? Honestly, it shows possession, people. Possession or abbreviating things like "do not" = "don't." Did half the country skip second grade? Oh wait, I skipped second grade, and I still know how to use a damn apostrophe. And yes, I just used my biggest accomplishment as a 6-year-old to lecture the blogosphere on punctuation.

Urban backpackers. How do I even begin to explain how silly these people look, wandering around the city? I see them all the time! They are usually couples, and one or both of them usually have dreadlocks, and they carry those backpacks you use when you're trekking across Morocco, not the Midwest of America. Even if these people just rolled off a train from Portland, they look ridiculous. Case closed.

I may have already explained my problem with handle-less grocery bags, but here's my latest complaint: I have run out of paper bags with handles, so the other day I took my lunch to work in a slightly oversize paper bag without handles. I rolled up the tall part of the bag so I was carrying it around like I'm guessing they did...in the olden days? Before handles? I was too tired to think about it or be embarrassed by it in the morning, but on my way back from work I realized I looked like some sort of hobo terrorist on the train, clutching my giant paper bag that really only contained my tupperware, but probably looked much scarier to my fellow passengers.

Loud girl in the morning = girl at the bus stop at 7:30 AM chatting at high decibels on her Blackberry. Who are you gabbing with at this hour?

Okay, so this isn't something that's generally on my mind, but I started thinking about it while making my list. Historic fiction. Isn't that kind of an oxy moron? There are a lot of people who survived/suffered the Holocaust...do we really need to make up fake stories about the Holocaust? Aren't there enough real stories about life's tragedies/miracles? I could be wrong, but it seems like a fair question.

The DHS thing is actually from a personal experience...I went to the Department of Human Services for my (hopefully) final food stamps-related meeting last week, and some guy said, "How you doin', beautiful?" I think I quickly glanced over, said "Fine" and then pretended to be doing something on my phone, mostly because I just don't respond to these situations very well. But sir, do you really think picking up a girl at the Public Aid office is going to help your situation? You and I are obviously both in less-than-stellar financial times. I am getting food stamps because I'm spending a year "ending poverty" and you are getting some form of public aid for whatever reason (hey, maybe you are also ending poverty - I'm not one to judge) but of all the places to find a date, the depressing confines of the DHS might not be your best option.

As it turns out, I don't even know how to use my food stamps properly, because I push the wrong buttons on the credit card machine and then my card gets denied and the Sassy McAttitude working the register won't help me figure it out. Grocery stores are my new Humiliation Headquarters; when I'm not waving my LINK card in the air, shouting to everyone about how I'm using everyone's tax money to make turkey burgers, I'm walking into the store to come face-to-face with a mom instructing her daughter to eat vitamins, "So you can be tall, LIKE HER!" Yes, little girl, eat your vitamins so you can grow to be tall, achieve basketball mediocrity, go to a school full of students who probably don't even know there is an election happening right now, graduate, and then receive public aid. Life is grand!

List of sad things aside, I am loving my job right now. Hopefully it will stay like this all year! I know things are going to get busy, but it's just a ton of fun. Boyfriend and I went trick-or-treating with the little refugee kiddos on Halloween, and it was a riot. They had such a fun time, and it is so refreshing to be around kids who actually appreciate things worth appreciating. Today is Tuesday, so after work I went to the after-school program and once again got to do ESL work with one of the super cool Somali girls. I'm thinking about looking into the whole ESL teaching thing again, so maybe that will be an option after this year. Of course, another option is moving to Africa, where they have much bigger problems than illiterate, corn syrup-guzzling white people trying to ruin everything. But that's a decision for a later time. It's a cardio pilates night - enjoy your Tuesday!

Windy Tuesday in the Windy City

2010-10-26T19:18:00.000-07:00

The other day, I went to the DHS for another food stamps-related visit. So awful. I saw a baby drinking Coke out of a bottle. As if this weren't proof enough that 90% of this country should be sterilized, there's a new season of "16 & Pregnant" starting tonight, and I barely have words to describe what is unfolding on the television in front of me right now.

Our favorite cast of characters (Maci, Farrah, Catelynn, Amber) has its strengths and weaknesses. Maci has her southern accent, Farrah has her anger problem, Catelynn has her mother, and Amber has...problems. Apparently MTV has decided that they no longer want any of their "16 & Pregnant" girls to be even slightly relatable, because this girl Brooke is RIDICULOUS.
-Brooke, a junior in high school whose family raises goats and has apparently been getting knocked up and married at 16 for ages, announces that she is indeed pregnant, and she is indeed engaged, and she loves race cars.
-Even though this is how Brooke's family does things, Mom is still disappointed, because she left condoms under the kitchen sink, for goodness sake! As if that weren't a straightforward enough method of parenting, Brooke's mother also showed her how to put said condoms on a cucumber. Well...nice try? So how is it that Brooke found herself pregnant, at 16? It's a mystery, but her mother knows one thing's for sure: "It wasn't 'cause you wasn't educated."
-First text message from Bagels: This can't be real.
-Brooke is having some sort of hair-curling party with her mom and girlfriends...they are just sitting in a living room, curling each other's hair, talking about how hilarious this pregnancy thing is.
-The wedding! Seriously, though, how old do you have to be to get married in Texas? IS THIS REAL.
-Bagels: She is wearing a tiara.
-OMG OMG the groom is wearing a go-kart racing uniform.
-There is apparently some sort of "program"/class offered at Brooke's high school which involves sitting in a kumbaya circle, sharing teen parenting stories, because this school is just pooping out teen moms by the dozens.
-Bagels: We didn't have this teen parenting program. As an alumnus of the #1 high school in America, I am hurt.
-It's a boy! So she's naming him "Brody." Wait a second. Her boyfriend's name is Cody...she's naming the baby "Brody." STOP IT. STOP IT. UNREAL.
-Brooke and Cody cannot afford to buy a house, so they are currently shopping around for barns. "So if Brody asks if he was born in a barn, he can say, 'yeah!'" Like Jesus? No.
-Brooke thinks that living in a barn will be "cute." But it doesn't matter because they can't afford it, based on the $8.25/hour that Cody makes at QuikTrip. And they say these things like it's news to them...like they just realized that having a child is going to put a damper on their teenage years. Maybe they have been watching too much "Secret Life of the American Teenager." There is no special band camp for teen moms, and there is no Amy Jergens!

Okay, quick break to talk about the weather today. Scary! I almost got blown away by wind/rain/rain tornadoes on my way to the bus (which is only a few steps from the apartment) and I rode to work soaking wet. Awesome. It didn't really bother me, though, for some unknown reason. It was a mostly pleasant day. During lunch, my co-VISTA and I went out to grab slices of delicious, greasy, thin crust pizza at some place down the street (did I mention that it was delicious?) and we really almost got blown away. After we got inside I realized that the whole time it was happening - bikes falling over, branches waving around - I was yelling, "NOOOOT THE PIIIZZZAAAA!" It's all about priorities.

-I think if I were sitting in class, as depicted in the MTV between-scenes illustration, and some girl's water broke, I would have started vomiting uncontrollably. That is NOT appropriate for homeroom.
-Brody has entered the world.
-Did she just use the phrase "pre-fab barn?" In any case, they have not saved enough to buy it.
-"Even though we can't afford it, we decided to make some time for ourselves." Great idea - take a newborn baby to a restaurant that you can't afford. These kids just keep getting smarter, each season.
-Brooke is upset, because now she can't hang out at the race car track, and Cody is so nice, so she just has to cry! What is this new confessional thing? This isn't "The Real World!"

Annnnd it's over. This girl is definitely not "Teen Mom" material. Can we just continue watching our favorite foursome, specifically Amber and Gary? Bagels informed me that the police were called again. Something about screaming and Amber running outside in her underwear, chasing Gary. Sounds about right.

So now that that's over, we can talk about other things...except there's not much else to report. Boyfriend and I had a pretty lazy weekend, which was much needed due to the sleep deficit I accrued last week. If anything else of note comes up, I will be back to report. Until then, still loving work, still holding onto the fall until the deadly winter sets in.

Back from Reality [TV]

2010-10-21T18:31:00.000-07:00

I realize le blog has been a little heavy on the "Teen Mom" lately. It's just getting harder to come up with interesting details from my own life, so I have to rely on a bunch of 17-year-olds to provide the lolz. Sad? Maybe. But not really - I love my job! I don't want to say too much about it because ha ha, oops, that's never a good idea! And I definitely don't want to mess anything up here. You see, this is a job with excellent "benefits," like food stamps! Food stamps that I have not yet received, unfortunately. The day I went to DHS I called my mom when I got in the car to go home. I was so mad because being in that office sucked and I didn't even leave with any food moneyz. Oh and the whole thing about the lady getting up from our appointment to go gossip about diapers about five feet away from where I was sitting. Anyway, I became frustrated because my mom did not seem terribly outraged at how little courtesy was extended to me (and, I'm assuming, the others at the DHS office).

Me: I was kind of rude on the phone, and I told her I was sorry, but she just didn't seem as mad as I was about how terrible the DHS was.
Boyfriend: Every mom's dream...when her daughter calls to tell her she got to go to the public aid office to receive food stamps.
Me: Yep, living the dream!

Wait a second here, you mean to tell me that weird, young detective on SVU is the guy from the All State "mayhem" commercials? Ha ha, I just made the connection. Oh yes, I am watching SVU and blogging at the same time.

A few minutes ago, I had to do something sort of sad. I felt the need to delete a blog that I wrote, with contributions from friends, in high school. It was called "Amusing Convos" and featured excerpts from Instant Messenger conversations I found particularly amusing. I lol'd reading about how exciting it was to download Rihanna songs on iTunes and learn how to drive. Unfortunately, I decided that if I ever decide to pursue a career that would put me in the public eye (unlikely, but who knows, right?) I would probably be brought down by this 2006 stint on the Internet. It would totally be my "dabbling in witchcraft"-like downfall. No, I did not dabble in witchcraft (at least not on the Internet!) but I did say a bunch of things that would probably sound racist, out of context. Oops. That's the trouble with going to an international school. You say things like "Ha ha, you're Asian, so let's write this conversation for the Internet and we'll put my words in pink or another color and yours in yellow!" and your Asian friend is all like, "Ha ha, YEAH!" but if some third party read this, they would just see "And we put Jessica's part of the conversation in yellow, get it!" and that would be the end of my senate race. Actually, my senate race would probably end with a number of other things that make me unfit for political life...oh well! That saves me a lot of trouble, and I won't have to buy any tweed jackets.

Oh, here's something that has started bothering me: grocery bags. For some reason, the grocery stores around here do not have paper bags with handles. I prefer paper grocery bags, for recycling. And here, if you ask for paper, they put the groceries in the paper bag...and then put a plastic bag over it, for the handles. So unnecessary!

Clearly, I have a lot of material today. Perhaps blogging was not the wisest choice. The other day I told Boyfriend that I was going to write a blog about the boring-spiral of relationships. It was going to be about how the biggest worry I have about living together is not that we'll start hating each other and I'll be homeless. It's that we'll become this horrible boring couple that is so far removed from the way we started out. For example, when you start going out with someone and you're driving somewhere, it can be something like this...

Guy: Yeah, I really liked that movie as a child.
Girl: Me too! But the fact that all the household appliances were talking was really kind of frightening, too.
Guy: Maybe that's why I became afraid of vacuums.
Girl: You were afraid of vacuums? Wow, you're such an interesting person! What an enjoyable date we're having!

And then the fear is that one day, car rides end up like this...
Girl: Can you turn on NPR?
[Silence]
Girl: Oh hey, let's stop at Target.
Guy: Ugh, but I really want to watch the football game...
Girl: BUT I HAVE TO BUY TAMPONS!

And no one wants that. For the record, we don't fall into that second category, although we do listen to NPR in the car, like Olds.

It's a slow day for blog stuff today. My brain is fried from lack of sleep, and I mean severe lack of sleep. Bedtime is in 45 minutes tonight. Not kidding.

Let's share feelings...Dr. Drew style.

2010-10-19T19:00:00.000-07:00

I don't know if this happens to anyone else, but sometimes I just have these days where I know I should turn around, go home and get back in bed, because things can only get worse. It all started yesterday morning, when I woke up two minutes before my alarm was set to go off. That's annoying to begin with, because it's not like I woke up in the middle of the night, and got to go back to sleep for a few hours. And it's not like my alarm woke me up, which would be the normal circumstance. I woke up just slightly before my alarm, which meant that I had to hurriedly roll over and silence my phone alarm before it started ringing unnecessarily. And then I had to get out of bed.

After breakfast, I went back to the bedroom to get out my clothes for the day. I had tried to plan ahead (since "Mad Men" and "Sister Wives" were on Sunday night so I stayed up kind of late...side note, MADMENWTF?) and decided, in my mind, what I would wear. But when I went to get out the components of my outfit, I realized that I don't own one of the things I had decided to wear, in my mind. So now it's 7:05 AM and my brain is not yet functioning well enough for me to plan a whole new outfit, but I have to, because I need to wear clothes to go to work. Long story short, I got out the door a little late and in a bad mood.

And theeeeen my bus decided to just not come until about 8:00. It takes almost an hour to get to work, so I knew that I would be rolling into work late. It was at this point - waiting for the bus - that I seriously considered turning around, walking 200 feet to the apartment, and going back to bed. But then the bus came.

When I got to work I tried to find a studio apartment on Craig's List for $300 or less in the neighborhood where I work. No luck there. Such a shame, too, because I could have lived there during the week, and then spent weekends down in Hyde Park when Boyfriend is home from LA. Plus, on going-out nights, Boyfriend and/or I would be spared cab fare or the whole Red line -> Chinatown -> cab nonsense that we have figured out for ourselves. But then again, such a place apparently does not exist, and I also like our apartment too much to settle for some sort of cheap knock-off apartment, just so I can be spared a terrible commute.

Today's morning commute was better...after I realized that I got on the southbound Red line train instead of the northbound and looked up from my book to realize that I was one stop away from Chinatown. Oops.

But nooooone of that matters right now, because it's Tuesday, and "Teen Mom" is over EXCEPT for the Dr. Drew special. Time to liveblog the madness!

-Recaps recaps!
-The many skin shades of Maci...the many mascara disasters of Amber. It. is. on.
-"So Amber...how is Leah?" Awkward! We know she has no idea, because she's too busy crying and hanging out with her convict boyfriend.
-Farrah seems to have gotten her shiz together. Good for you, Formerly-Insane Farrah!

...

Okay, so this is like 80% recaps. Boring! No more liveblogging. Enjoy the final "Teen Mom" gathering of the season, friends.

Boyfriend's Birthday Adventures

2010-10-16T22:10:00.000-07:00

Today was Boyfriend's birthday. Happy birthday, Boyfriend! Since I'm about to receive public aid (more on this later) my budget for Boyfriend's birthday was a little tight. But there are lots of fun things you can do for very little money, especially when you go to the Brookfield Zoo expecting to pay $26 for two adult tickets (plus $9 parking) and some lady walks up to you and says, "Hey, you two going to the zoo?" and you say, "Yes!" and she says, "Here are two free tickets - we have four of them and we only need two." And then you go to the zoo and see the wonderful sights.

Going to the zoo, you never know what kind of "wildlife" you are actually going to encounter. The Brookfield Zoo has a lot of nice exhibits, like its current "Great Bear Wilderness" and the giant primate house. But since it was a beautiful fall Saturday, there were also a lot of animals running free throughout the zoo. It seemed that most of them migrated from the nearby habitat of Indiana and brought with them their packs of screeching young. Some of the creatures appeared as though they could weigh upwards of 500 lbs, and they covered their flesh with Colts and Chicago Bears t-shirts giant enough to fit their massive frames.

After the zoo, Boyfriend and I went back home to have dinner and enjoy the ice cream cake that I made for him. In terms of presentation, the outside of the cake (frosted in whipped vanilla ice cream) could have been a little nicer, but in terms of taste, I think it was tasty. It was a devil's food chocolate cake with cookies 'n' cream ice cream filling, frosted with vanilla ice cream. And now there is a ton of it, even though Boyfriend and I ate lots of it already.

The zoo and cake weren't Boyfriend's only presents, though. After cake and some Louis C.K. on Netflix, we got back in the car and I had Boyfriend follow the GPS without knowing where we were going to end up. There was one more surprise in store, and it was southwest of the city in some place called Alsip. I did not know anything about Alsip when I found "Fun Time Family Square" but according to the Wikipedia page, Alsip is a village in Cook County, Illinois and "is known as the home of Swap-O-Rama, Shelly 'Cankle Donuts' and the Mullet." This would have been good information to have before showing up at Fun Time Family Square, where I planned to surprise Boyfriend with go-kart racing. We arrived at FTFS and immediately realized that it was some sort of pre-teen white trash watering hole. I bet if we had come on a different day we could have seen MTV execs scouting for the next cycle of "16 and Pregnant." The go-karts were fun (I went one time! Boyfriend went twice.) but when I researched the place online, there was nothing indicating that we would be subjected to harassment by a gang of terror-mongers wielding fake guns and knives, wearing orange jumpsuits and clown masks, and sneaking up on us when we were just trying to ride the go-karts and get the hell out of Alsip, Illinois. I hate creepy things like that so I was not too thrilled about the haunted house creatures, but after a while it got old and I was more concerned about the little boy waiting in line for go-karts next to boyfriend wearing the "I Heart Boobies" t-shirt. Thankfully, Boyfriend schooled him in go-karts.

I had a three-day weekend this weekend because I took Friday off to go to the DHS and get my food stamps. If you're ever having a really great day, like too great of a day, go to the DHS and you will get instantly depressed, guaranteed! I thought things were going to go okay because I only had to wait about 15 minutes, and then a lady came out and called my name. I went into the office part with her and sat down in her cubicle, and it looked just like all the scenes in "Precious" with Mariah Carey! And it seemed she hated her job about as much as Mariah Carey did, too. So she started asking me the basic questions for the application or what not, even though I already answered most of them online, and then another employee started shouting/laughing about diapers. From what I could tell, someone had visited a home to make sure the parent situation was acceptable, and they found that a baby was being diapered in wipes, instead of actual diapers, which is not okay. And so the person who conducted this visit was telling the whole office about this sad excuse for a parent, and she called my interviewer over to hear it. And so two minutes after I sat down for my appointment, the lady got up and walked over to her coworkers - right in front of me - and stood there making fun of a client, for five minutes. While I waited. And then it was 15 minutes more of stupid questions before I was told that since I don't have a social security card and I didn't bring two forms of ID (apparently my driver's license, proof of insurance, title of my car, health insurance card, credit card, rent receipts, bank statement, and letter from my job were not enough documents to prove that I am me) I will not be getting any food stamps until I can come back to the DHS with those things. And this means I will have to take another day off work, or at least leave early, and go back and be depressed again, after I somehow get a social security card. Awesome awesome.

Friday got better, though, because Boyfriend came home from work early and then we went downtown to have drinks at the Wit. I realized later that it is a little strange to spend the afternoon at the public aid office and the evening at one of the nicer bars in Chicago. But that's life - strange!

Now it's late and sleep is in order, because BLOG FAN NUMERO UNO and her beau are coming down to Hyde Park tomorrow for some lunch and cake. And I can't wait!

90MINUTETEENMOMSEASONFINALE!!!

2010-10-12T19:00:00.000-07:00

It has begun! Let's get pumped for 90 minutes of Amber and Gary.

ZOMG, a re-cap of the entire season. The anticipation is deadly!

-Tyler and Catelynn are off to West Virginia to see Baby Carly. They have not seen her since she was born. Tyler is doing what he does best (sharing his feelings).
-Farrah and her mom are doing okay, maybe? This will probably change soon, because Farrah's mom wants to set Farrah up with a boy named Julian, and is also making some passive aggressive comments about Farrah meeting someone "decent."
-GARY AND AMBER. IT'S ON.
-Ha ha, Gary is at the batting cages, and even his tank-topped friend agrees that meeting someone at Wal-Mart is "ridiculous."
-Meanwhile, Amber is back at the house introducing Baby Leah to New Boyfriend/Ex-Con, Chris. Baby Leah is not interested.
-Maci is in Tennessee, doin' her thang, and oh, here comes Ryan, ready to be a douchebag. Ryan has changed the parenting plan (which was solidified into law in Ryan's garage) behind Maci's back, and she is having NONE of it.
-It turns out that this guy Farrah is supposed to date is a hair stylist, and his v-neck t-shirt is revealing a lot of cleavage right now. Also, he's painfully boring.
-GAHHHH! What happened to Farrah's mom's hair?! "I don't look like a felon now, do I?" HA HA, funny one, Farrah's mom, because you assaulted your daughter! What a hoot!
-Killer shades there, Tyler, driving through Ohio. His thoughts on teen pregnancy? "Shit happens."
-Amber clearly had some sort of physical brawl with a bottle of tanning lotion because her face is ten different colors of awful. Chris is fresh out of prison now, and since he doesn't have a job or money, Amber is doing the sensible thing and letting him stay with her and Leah. "I could see myself spending the rest of my life with you...can I use the car real quick?" What could go wrong?
-Maci is back home to get some good ol' common sense talked into her by her parents.
-Tyler and Catelynn are still driving, because West Virginia is kind of far away. Why do they have to go all the way there, anyway? The family doesn't live in West Virginia do they? Oh geez! Tyler is having another sentimental moment, get out the Kleenex.
-Maci just got a letter from "Step By Step Divorce Solutions." Oopsies! Ryan's a jerk, the end.
-Farrah's on a date with her hairdresser at "Ryan's Bistro." She does know that he's not interested in her...or any other girls...right? I mean, it's not because he's a hairdresser, but...
-The big moment! Catelynn and Tyler are seeing Carly for the first time in a year! And she's cute, and her parents don't verbally abuse her. Adoption = best decision ever. Here come the tears!
-Umm...is Baby Carly possessed?
-Leah is at Gary's house, having fun. Amber "finally has time to relax," because when does she ever get to lie around and yell from the comfort of her bed? Oh right, the answer is "always."
-Bagels says "Omg. It's not a good idea to argue with convicts." Convict Chris tried to talk to Gary on the phone, and Gary rightly told him to stop! Now they are all chasing each other with cars? What is HAPPENING?! Where is Baby Leah?
-Baby Carly loves to swing! Teresa (Carly's adoptive mother) is telling Catelynn that she is going to be great, in life. And this is so heartwarming. Yay!
-UGH the emotion.
-Farrah is moving into her mom's rental house. No matter how many seasons of "Teen Mom" we see, it is impossible to understand the Abraham family dynamics.
-Maci cannot let Ryan hang out too much with Baby Bentley, because then Baby Bentley will become like Ryan, and will go through life being a mean, angry bastard, which is what Ryan is. Even the "parenting plan" supervising lady can tell that Ryan is an ass.
-All Amber wants to do is talk about Baby Leah's schedule. That's why she screamed at Gary and then chased him down in her car. Oh good, now her gross convict boyfriend of two weeks (months?) is going to comfort her, and tell her she's a great mom.
-You know why Gary is not getting back together? "Because I'm thinking of my daughter now, before my own self." His friend says, "You seem happier than you were." Didn't they break up, what, yesterday? Whatever, Gary's life has since improved drastically.
-Farrah hates living in the rental house, after two days. Cool Asian friend to the rescue! Listen to her wise words.
-Baby Carly has been presented with a GIANT scrapbook, chronicling the history of her birth parents.
-And a recordable book, with Tyler and Catelynn reading to Baby Carly. TEARS.
-Now we have to say good bye to Baby Carly. :( SHE LOVES THEM.
-Bagels says: These are born showbiz babies. They do things on command. "KISS HER, CARLY."
-Absolutely, because you know that Baby Leah is going to be on "Teen Mom: Season 25."
-Oh, here come the Farrah tears.
-Ugh no, why is Farrah's mom crying? Why is she trying to relate to Farrah's loss? Stop it! Well, at least they are hugging now. FOR NOW.
-Does Amber ever interact with Baby Leah? Why is she letting an ex-con change Baby Leah's diapers...and live AT HER HOUSE?!
-Team. Gary. Forever.
-Gary just went into his car, just outside the house, and then called Amber...and then came back in the house and is attempting to speak reasonably with Amber. Now they are hugging. Uh, what?
-Ryan and Maci are probably going to make out now, because "now that we're both single, who knows what could happen in the future?" Wrong.
-The closing montage = Farrah getting her hair done by her "date" while wearing a t-shirt that says "Celebreality," Gary playing the guitar (ha ha what?!), Amber crying about who knows what, and kissing that gross person, Maci wearing a backpack, Maci driving and chewing gum (at the same time!), Catelynn and Tyler being cute. And happy. Because they don't have a baby to take care of. THE END.

Good season, girls. See you for Season Three.

Pre-Mad Men Speed Blogging!

2010-10-10T20:01:00.000-07:00

So hey, did you hear about that CTA bus that crashed on Saturday? Yeah, it ran off Lake Shore Drive and HIT A TREE. Which bus was it, you ask? Oh, it was the #6 - Jackson Park Express. Oh, right. IT WAS MY BUS. Spoiler alert: I was not on the bus. I was on a different #6 bus, which was like one or two buses behind the crashed one. Awesome. I guess we can add this to my list of reasons why I am afraid of the CTA.

Backtracking for a moment, I was downtown on Saturday having lunch with Nurse Jen. Her train was late and we did some shopping ("browsing," really, since we all know how much money I make. You don't? Well, the answer is "not much") and then I was trying to decide which form of transportation to take to get home, and I saw a #6 bus stopped at a red light at the end of the blog so I ran, like a loser, down the sidewalk and got on the bus. As we started off again down the street, a speed-happy #6 bus passed us, and later, when we got stuck on Lake Shore because there were over thirty emergency vehicles trying to deal with the whole bus-running-off-the-freeway incident, there was some bus-wide speculation that perhaps the speed-happy bus was the one being removed from a tree by an emergency bus-retrieval machine. I feel so safe on my bus route now! Oh, I would also like to quickly share the texts that were exchanged when I arrived home.

Me: In case you hear a news story about a bus running off the road and hitting a tree, I was not on it and I am alive. I was on the bus behind it!
My mother: I wonder if the driver was texting.

Ever since Heidi Montag's plastic surgeon drove off the road and landed in a crater or something, my mother has decided that every accident was probably caused by texting-while-driving. She's probably right in a lot of cases, but I guess I was just a little shocked because I would like to think that if one day, I have an adult child who almost dies (well, okay, no one died in the bus accident) or fractures an elbow in a freak bus accident, I would respond to her reassuring "I'm alive!" text with, "That's great, honey! I am glad you were not killed on a public bus, because that would be a humiliating way to die!" But perhaps my mother is right to have the more general public interest at heart. I have to give her credit for that.

The rest of the weekend was less scary, for the most part. Boyfriend I were on a mission to see "The Social Network" this weekend, since we ran out of time last weekend. Our efforts were unsuccessful on Friday night, because the movie was sold out. But we managed to leave our car parked in the free parking garage and make our way up to Navy Pier to ride the Ferris wheel and the swings ride. I got embarrassingly scared on the Ferris wheel, to Boyfriend's amusement. Today we planned to see "The Social Network" at 5:00, so Boyfriend could make his flight at 9:45. Thanks to the stupid stupid stuuuupid marathon, which is STUPID, we were too late for the 5:00 movie, so long story short, Boyfriend and I both punched Rowdy (the car) in frustration, considered beating up a policewoman, and then drove out to Rosemont to see the movie, be traumatized by a trailer for some sort of Tea Party "documentary" slash disgusting partially-animated shrine to Ronald Reagan, and almost miss Boyfriend's flight. But he made it! And now it's 10:00.

It's TMT, fools!

2010-10-05T20:11:00.000-07:00

Happy TMT! And oh, what a happy one it is.

On tonight’s episode…

-Amber meets a date at Walmart. Remember a few episodes back, when Gary met a girl in the diaper aisle of Walmart? Bagels texted me and thinks we should have a poll on who meets better dates at Walmart, or “Wally,” as Amber calls it.

-Catelynn and Tyler learn that they have the opportunity to see Baby Carly because the adoptive parents are taking some sort of vague business trip to/around the state of West Virginia. Catelynn and Tyler become excited and look at each other giggling, “Ooh, West Virginia!” like it’s some sort of cute bed and breakfast.

-Does Catelynn’s mom have Tourette syndrome? Also, is she seven years old? Catelynn takes a guess: “I think she’s probably mad because I’m making better decisions than she ever did.” Ding ding!

-Gary and Amber are having problems, as we know, so Gary goes to a flower shop to find something to fix these problems. He uses the word “monster” to describe his desired flower arrangement, and then gets sound advice from the lady at the cash register while Amber berates him via speaker phone. The cashier realizes that her life is much better than that of the young man before her, so she throws in "a balloon, for the baby.” Gary weeps softly in his car.

-Maci calls Kyle “unavailable,” because he is too tired to watch Bentley sit unproductively on a toilet.

-Farrah does the weird trying-not-to-cry-face.

-Tyler is in one of his “moods,” and does not want to make Baby Carly’s scrapbook.

-Amber and Chris (the guy from Wally!) have a first date, which begins with Amber picking him up from work (appears to be the side of the road), where he is wearing a tank top. They then drive to a restaurant called “The Three Pigs,” where he informs her that before he met Amber (which was the best day of his life, he explains) he was in jail! And then they kiss and he whispers, “Perfect.” Narrator Amber seems to be thinking clearly: “Chris might be trying a little too hard…” (wait for it) “But it’s kinda cute!” Annnnd we’re back.

-Farrah’s mom is an evil wench, the end.

-Gary’s MONSTER flowers are delivered by two unfortunate children from the neighborhood, who he probably threatened to sit on.

-We have learned that Amber knows how to spell the word “recently,” because Gary spelled it wrong (“reasently”) on his MONSTR FLOWR DIZPLAY CARD. Reach for the stars, Amber! Get that GED!

-More life lessons from Farrah’s mom at therapy. Oh, she wanted Farrah’s boyfriend to die! Got it. Yes, Farrah’s therapist, please tell Farrah’s mom to shut up!

-Back in Michigan, crazy chain-smoking Catelynn’s Mom is throwing another temper tantrum. Same ol’, same ol’. But Catelynn is so pure and sweet, she hugs her mom, even though she’s a lunatic. Aww.

-Why does Maci’s skin get progressively more orange? Similarly, her hair changes color every episode. Oh, she’s angry. Is Kyle…breaking up with her? Using the few words that he knows/can pronounce? Yes, I believe that is what just happened. Didn’t Maci just move to Nashville to be close to him? Ah, yes. Yes she did.

-Gary apologizes for being “selfish” for taking Leah away after Amber attempted to beat Gary senseless. Maybe this would be okay, if “selfish” meant “acting responsibly.” Amber doesn’t care, though, because SHE IS DATING NOW, SO BACK OFF.

-Baby Sophia is not interested in listening to a dramatic reading of her baby book, performed by Farrah. Oh wait, yes she is! Cutest Baby Award.

-Dramatic music, Maci is alone, Baby Leah has horrible parents, Baby Sophia and Farrah sail off in a paddleboat...end scene.

Things I am afraid of on the CTA.

2010-10-04T19:20:00.000-07:00

Maybe I have mentioned this before, but I have really crazy dreams. Unfortunately, these dreams are often terrifying nightmares, with content that is so far-removed from any sort of reality but still unbelievably scary. And that's not a very pleasant way to spend the hours between work days. "Rolling Thunder" has not cured my crazy dreams, but there's a chance it is making them more pleasant, and less scary. So that's the good news.

The bad news is that 6:30 is still too damn early to be getting up in the morning, case closed. I managed to get myself out the door this morning in some kind of stupor, then onto the bus where I almost fell asleep while standing up. The bus has been too crowded lately. Oh, and then we almost crashed! I think that was this morning. Yes, it was. I may have been half asleep but I remember almost crashing to my death on Lake Shore. Then we got downtown and there was filming going on right on the corner by my bus stop! At work, I looked up what it was, and it was just some new show on Fox. Bo-ring.

But let's get back to my morning commute. And my afternoon commute. You see, I have a few (irrational?) fears when it comes to this city's public transportation.

After work today, I stopped by Starbucks for something to sustain me during this job thingy I got invited to, which turned out to be really weird (oh, and not related to my current job, for the record). Work is from 8:30 to 4:30 and since all I bring for lunch is soup, yogurt, and mini chocolates, I get extremely hungry somewhere around 3:45. After I picked up a hot chocolate, I realized that I needed to board the L. Now, I'm pretty sure there is a rule against food and beverages on CTA trains and buses, although I'm not exactly sure whether or not it is enforced. But for some reason, in the less-than-one-block that I had to walk from Starbucks to the train, I became convinced that my tall hot chocolate would be enough to aggravate a CTA employee to the point of action. He or she would, upon seeing my beverage, yell at me in front of the other CTA passengers, and force me to throw away my hot chocolate. And this was not going to happen. So, like a crazed person, I stuffed my hot chocolate into my purse and walked briskly through the turn-style and up to the platform. Oh, and it didn't end there. Once on the platform, I figured I would be safe from CTA personnel (who, in all likelihood, could not care about anything less than whether or not I have a hot chocolate on the train), so I took out my hot chocolate and began to enjoy it. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a woman wearing a jacket like the CTA people wear. Maybe she worked for CTA, maybe she didn't, but all of a sudden my brain started searching for excuses I could use, in case she asked me/yelled at me about my drink. The only one I could come up with was, "I am diabetic! I have to drink this or I'll DIE!" and it sounded exactly that frantic in my head. Then I realized that I don't know enough about diabetes to back up that claim...then I thought about how one of my best friends is diabetic, and he could probably tell me the necessary information to make my claim seem plausible...then the train arrived, and no one cared about my hot chocolate.

My other fear about the train is that one day, I will be standing at the platform, waiting for it to arrive, and a crazed person (who may or may not be homeless) will charge at me and push me onto the tracks, totally unprovoked. So I've started coming up with ways to protect myself from this anonymous lunatic, like standing by the pillars so I could grab one if someone tried to push me. I also look for suspicious characters when I go down/up to the platform. By "suspicious characters," I don't necessarily someone one would normally deem "suspicious," like someone carrying a visible weapon. I look for people who look just crazy enough to randomly select me as a victim and push me onto the tracks, for no reason at all. So far, I have either gotten lucky, or I'm really good at staying away from these crazy people.

And the other fear(s)? Sometimes I see police officers surveying the L platforms and I automatically assume they are searching for bombs. Then I start thinking about my own helplessness and how cruel the world is...and then my train comes.

Since I just got home at around 8 tonight, I'm shamefully watching an OnDemand Lifetime Original Movie because I don't feel like doing anything else until tonight's "The Daily Show." Welcome to the working world? Happy Monday.

Sunday night cookie binge

2010-10-03T20:13:00.000-07:00

It is Sunday again. Why?!?? At least I like my job, so it's less painful than it could be. It was a good weekend! Boyfriend came home, and then less than 48 hours later, he was on the plane going back to LA. I have to keep this short because 6 AM comes, as I guess they say somewhere in California in 2003, "hella" early, and it is already past 10. So I would just like to say that there were parts of today that were great, like working out, going for a walk to The Point, and going out to dinner. But suddenly and without warning, I am trying to work on the "other blog" while half-watching MTV's "True Life" and in a cookie dough-induced state of semi-consciousness. And that last part is because right before "Mad Men" came on, I was trying to think of ways to avoid having to write the other blog and realized that I had all the ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies. So...that happened. And now I must face the consequences - the consequences being the fact that I will probably be up too late. Luckily, I have a new nighttime soundtrack! Boyfriend copied his "Rolling Thunder" CD onto my laptop, so now I can put my computer on "bedtime mode" or something like that, and it will thunderstorm every single night. Hooray? Later, gators.

TMT...things just keep getting sadder.

2010-09-28T20:35:00.000-07:00

Ugh. Teen Mom Tuesday.

Whenever I get into a television-related conversation with an acquaintance, I [proudly?] explain that my allegiance lies with two shows, and two shows only, for the moment: "Mad Men" and "Teen Mom." But the past few weeks, "Teen Mom" has been sad, and not in the usual "HA HA Farrah just rolled her eyes again" way. In a really...really...sad way.

What happened this week? Well, let's see...Maci has moved to Nashville from her native Chattanooga, and her baby (Bentley) thinks that Maci's new boyfriend (Kyle, or as the natives pronounce it, "Kyyyyyyl") is his "dada." Maci wishes she could keep Bentley from his father (Ryan, or as the natives pronounce it, "Ryyyyyyn") forever, but that would be unfair to Bentley, apparently. I'm not so sure I agree, because "Ryyyyyyn" is a d-bag of epic proportions. Meanwhile, somewhere in Iowa (right?) Farrah needs a DNA test for little Sophia in order to get some financial help, because Sophia's dad died in a car accident. Things go okay and the DNA test is successful, but omgforgoodnesssake why can't Farrah just cry like a normal human being? Whenever she gets emotional she does this horrible teeth-clenching face, like she's trying SO HARD not to cry. Girl, just cry it out. We know that your mom is a psycho, and she doesn't care that your boyfriend died tragically, and she tried to attack you with a knife or something. Just let those tears out. They're begging you to let them out. Up in Michigan, Tyler and Catelynn manage to work Carly into every conversation they have, about everything. Catelynn's mom is still a beeeeotch, Tyler's dad is still in jail, and no one is graduating from high school just yet. Oops.

And then we have Amber and Gary. This "couple," or whatever they are, used to be the best part of the show, because of the lolz. But now, when Bagels and I have our texting-during-"Teen Mom" ritual, we can't even make real jokes about them anymore, because it's more like,

[Amber lies in bed whining, for no apparent reason. Baby Leah is "throwing a hissy fit," which is apparently what Amber calls it when Leah stands in silence, and so Amber puts her in her crib, where she starts screaming and crying. Amber yells something about medication and throws things.]
Bagels: Oh shit. Omg I think Amber's on psychotic medication.
[Gary comes back to retrieve Leah.]
Me: I can't believe I'm saying this: Please let Gary keep that baby.
[Amber punches Gary in the face repeatedly!]
Bagels: I'm pretty sure Amber can get arrested for what happened.
Me: I really hope so.
[Cut to commercial: "If you or someone you know has been a victim of domestic violence, call this number or go to loveisrespect.org."]
Bagels: Also MTV. "This is domestic violence. This is bad in the real world."

There might be hope, though! Apparently, police are investigating that creepy family from "Sister Wives," the new show about - what, you ask? - polygamy! on TLC, your headquarters for all that is gross! So maybe now that this week's "TM" has aired, they can investigate Amber, for being ridiculous? Team Gary, anyone? Eh, you're right, gross either way.

In other news, day two and work is good! Today, I got to go to the youth after-school program, which was fantastic. It's pretty inspiring to see all these kids, from all over the world and with many different stories on how they got here, playing together and just having a good time! I did get some sass from one little boy because he did not want to check his math answers, but the whole thing was still cake compared to my South Miami tutoring experience. No one threatened to pimp slap me! And that makes today a success.

Boyfriend won't wash his dirty jeans? Take him babysitting!

2010-09-26T18:56:00.000-07:00

When Boyfriend left for India back in June, we came to Chicago first because he had to spend a couple of days in his Chicago office, learning things. Also, I had an interview for the job which I am starting tomorrow. Oh, how things come together. At some point during this trip, Boyfriend began packing for his summer in India and realized that none of his jeans fit. Apparently he had a growth spurt at age 22 because all of his jeans were comically short, hitting him around the ankles. He had to go to work the following day but since I had some time before my afternoon interview (oh, and because I decided that my pants looked bad, too) I drove out to the 'burbs to do some quick shopping. It was there that I found a really nice pair of jeans for Boyfriend which were expensive but completely necessary given his impending departure.

Flash forward to yesterday, almost four months since the jeans were purchased.

Me: Hey, why don't we throw those jeans in the laundry?
Boyfriend: I told you, I don't wash these. I just wear them until blahblahblah [insert poor argument for not washing jeans here].
Me: Ughhhh fine.

Let me remind you that these jeans had been through India and back. I will admit that they still looked okay, and they didn't smell or anything, but I was in India for just a week and I wanted to immediately disinfect all of my clothes upon returning to my ship cabin. The children from "Slumdog Millionaire" probably have cleaner jeans than the pair in question.

So last night, Boyfriend and I went to babysit the baby who I can no longer nanny, because of the job I start TOMORROW. By the way, for anyone who is confused, last week was training and only lasted two days. Tomorrow I start fo' real, and I'm just sort of nervous. Sort of = a lot. Anyway, we arrived at 7 and the baby was awake! Hooray! It was already almost his bedtime, so we went into his room and had story time on his shag carpet. He likes "Green Eggs & Ham," even though Boyfriend doesn't believe that he can understand! He does, I assure you. At some point during story time I had the baby propped up so he could feel like he was standing, because he likes to pretend he is older than six months. And then he "walked" over to Boyfriend...and spit up all over Boyfriend's jeans.

Boyfriend: Ohhhh no...
Me: Oh no! Sorry! I can wash those tomorrow.
Boyfriend: Okay.

HA HA HA! Lesson learned: India will not do the trick, so if you really need to get a guy to wash his clothes, find a baby and get him to spit up his dinner on them!

Now that I have this figured out, the next thing on my "Things I Need to Convince Boyfriend Of" list is: Convince Boyfriend that it's okay for me to take pictures when we go fun places or do fun things. Now, okay, I agree that no one likes that girl (because it's usually a girl) who gets her camera out all the time and needs to document every little thing, including things no one needs to remember. "Oh, hey, we made a pizza that we bought in the freezer section at Costco! Let's take pictures of ourselves putting the pizza in the oven, then eating it! Hardy har har." No. However, last weekend, Boyfriend and I went to a cider mill, and since it was in Indiana (where they have things like "memorials" to "all of the aborted children") and it was a funny place, I wanted to take our picture there! I was met with hostility and refusals. Of course, this just encouraged me to follow Boyfriend around the barn with my camera, but the end result was not satisfactory.

Here is why I would like to take pictures of things sometimes.

Perhaps one day, far, far in the future, I will have grandchildren. And one of them will be chasing his sister around the house with a laser gun, and he'll notice me sitting in my chair staring out the window, and he'll say, "Grandma, what were things like back when you were a little kid?" And I will say, Sonny, come sit on my knee and I'll show you pictures from back-in-the-day. And maybe he will see a picture from the zoo or from a vacation, and he'll ask, "But where are your moon boots?" And I'll have to explain that a long time ago, we didn't travel to outer space for fun. And then I'll show him a picture from the time Christina and I went to East Pilsen for art and Mexican food, and my distance from Mexican culture will surprise him, because let's be real here, taking current demographic trends into consideration my grandchildren will probably all be at least semi-Mexican, if my actual children don't just come out speaking Spanish in the first place. (To be clear: both/either would be fine with me.)

And since moms in Texas are trying to merge the Bible with American history textbooks, personal family photographs will be all I have to teach my grandkiddies the ways of the world. Should I really be denied the opportunity to bestow my years of wisdom to my grandchildren? Don't try to argue that I could simply talk to them, without visual aids, because there's no way children in 2085 will have attention spans much greater than those of small insects.

I guess I should be more fair. Boyfriend and I have plenty of pictures from our travels in Japan and elsewhere, and he doesn't always put up such a fight. Perhaps I am just slightly peeved because he had to go back to California tonight, and so I must stress out about my first day of work without anyone around. Earlier he suggested that being really horrible to me might ease the pain of this constant traveling he has going on.

Boyfriend: Maybe if I'm really mean to you, you'll get mad at me and then you'll be happy I'm not here.
Me: *Half listening* Hmm...
Boyfriend: YOU'RE DUMB.
Me: Wha-
Boyfriend: *Simulates punching me in the stomach*
Boyfriend: *Picks up Victoria's Secret catalog, acts intrigued by scantily clad lingerie models*
Me: Oh geez. *Pours a glass of water*
Boyfriend: *Takes water, chugs entire glass*
Me: UGH STOP IT! NOOOO!
Boyfriend: Is it working?!

And with that, it is time for me to retrieve the clean laundry from the downstairs laundry room. Wish me luck on my first day (again) and have a marvelous Sunday evening!

Blair's Day (Two) Off

2010-09-23T14:47:00.000-07:00

It's my second day off this week and I have to say, I'm really enjoying the down time. Is it a coincidence that "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" is on AMC right now? Hmm. Normally I might feel a little guilty, spending the entire day outside (with the exception of a trip out to the recycling bins to dispose of our recyclable materials) instead of going out on the town like Ferris, but it's in the 80s today and I thought we were done with that nonsense.

Before Ferris, "Big" was on, and I watched it in between cleaning the apartment. How does such a small area get dirty so quickly? Vaccuuming wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for that vaccuum smell, the one that smells like hot dust, you know?

At some point during "Big," I remembered a conversation that Boyfriend had recently about that "list" that movies and magazines always reference, the one that allows someone in a relationship to say, "If I ran into one of these five celebrities and managed to romance said celebrity, there would be no repercussions for me in terms of the relationship." If I remember correctly, we both decided that this is a stupid idea. And it is also unfair, because I don't have a time machine, and when I attempted to think of a single male celebrity I would even want to spend more than 15 minutes with, I realized there are some logistical issues: Tom Hanks circa 1988, Heath Ledger circa being alive. Long story short, no list for me!

I got my 30-day CTA pass yesterday, so now I can feel super cool while riding the bus all over town! And with that, it is about time that I get ready for the Canes game tonight. C-A-N-E-S.

Training for le job.

2010-09-22T08:12:00.000-07:00

It's Wednesday and almost 10 AM, and I'm watching the Kardashian antics in my pajamas. But not for long, because this short work week is temporary. Starting next Monday, there will be no weekday TV marathons...sad face!http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=7940765001110848765

In all seriousness, I'm excited to start my job, just a little terrified. Training Monday and yesterday was a bit overwhelming at times, and I've really never had a "first day on the job" that involved training like that. In all my previous working experiences, I've either been a lowly intern given a daily list of [usually mind-numbing] tasks, or I've been in charge. So this whole taking-over-for-someone-else-in-the-middle-of-the-year thing is a much bigger challenge. But hopefully I'll get accustomed to it in a few weeks. Le sigh...

THAT IS if I survive more runs on the CTA buses and trains. I have experienced a variety of public transportation options in my day...the Miami Metrorail, the NYC subway, the DC Metro...and so far I can't really rank Chicago in comparison with the others. Oh, except I can say that the Miami Metrorail will be the worst, no matter what, and it's hard to be much more of a pain than the DC Metro. The NYC system will probably come out on top, so wherever that leaves Chicago, I guess?

This has been a boring, boring blog post, and for this, I apologize. Tonight, I'm going to a Brew & View movie with some friendz, and then tomorrow night is another Canes game! Maybe something of interest will come from these things. Until then, it's cloudy, and I'm going to continue to watch terrible daytime TV.

Then the taxi man turned on the radio and that NPR thing was on.

2010-09-19T17:54:00.000-07:00

I have had a lot of ideas for le blog lately, but I can't seem to remember most of them. Womp womp. Another womp womp thing: I just dropped Boyfriend off at the airport. He is on his way to LAX, with his dream and his cardigan. The great thing about his job is that it allows us to live comfortably in an apartment that isn't a crack den or meth lab, and the bad thing about his job is that it means he will be traveling a lot. A lot = Monday through Thursday, forever and ever, or at least until Christmas or so. So boo hoo, I am sad tonight, because tomorrow is my first day of work and no one is here to offer me emotional support! So I have turned to the Internet.

One idea that I do remember for le blog came to me recently while I was in the gym working out and listening to my iPod. For the most part, I have decent taste in music, but when I work out there has to be a beat and a hook and so song quality can be totally compromised, which means Katy Perry and Taio Cruz or whatever are allowed in the gym. So I was working out and a song by one Armando Christian Pérez, or "Pitbull" as he is known, came on my iPod. And I started thinking about my love of Pitbull songs, and how much they remind me of life in Miami, because the content of his songs are ridiculous and they are rapped in that Miami/Cuban accent UM students know and love/hate. Side note: I just went to Pitbull's Wikipedia page to make sure I spelled his real name correctly, and the first sentence of the "Early life and career beginnings" section reads, "Pérez was born to Cuban-immigrant parents who made him recite the works of poet José Martí." Ha ha, and he is so poetic now.

A few nights after I was thinking about that in the gym, I went out in Wrigleyville with Nurse Jen and my friend Christina, who was visiting. The same Pitbull song came on and Nurse Jen, who is a cute little blonde girl from the Midwest, screamed, "I LOVE PITBULL! I LOOOOVE PITBULL! HE IS SO HOT!" So I thought it would be funny to interpret the lyrics of musical artist Pitbull, through the mind of a white girl from suburbia.

I'm a Miami boy, you know how we play.
I ain't playing with you but I want to play with you.
Get me? Got me? Good.
Now watch me.

It's a different species, meet me in DC,
Let's party on the White House lawn.
Tiger Woods times Jesse James equals Pitbull all night long.
Wake up Barack and Michelle, let them know that it's on!
Pa'afuera, pa' la calle!

We are beginning with these, my favorite lyrics from the song "I Like It" by Enrique No-More-Mole Iglesias and Pitbull. First, Pitbull explains that he is a "Miami boy," justifying the behavior that he will explain further to us in the following lines. He says he is "not playing with you," meaning he is being serious, but he wants to "play with you," which means he wants to be romantically and/or sexually involved. The line "it's a different species" is somewhat difficult to explain, but we can probably assume that he is talking about "Miami boys," because they just party so hard. He then calls the listener to join him in the District of Columbia for some sort of street dancing/riot which apparently is so awesome that the President and First Lady of the United States will actually rise from sleep in the middle of the night to attend. That is what happens when Pitbull calls you to dance in the streets.

Ha ha, okay, this is probably a lot less funny than I imagined at the gym so I will spare you any further white girl interpretations of Pitbull songs...FOR NOW. They could come back later (but probably not). But okay, what else am I supposed to do before "Mad Men?" Write the other blog? I CAN'T RIGHT NOW, IT'S TOO HARD. I suppose that I could tell you about the rest of the weekend.

I will tell you about yesterday. Yesterday the weather was absolutely horrible, but Boyfriend and I had our hearts set on going to the cider mill for cider and donuts, so we were like, Ha ha, whatever THUNDER AND LIGHTNING! You can't stop us from getting cider! And we drove to Indiana for what ended up being really mediocre cider and just-okay donuts. On the way, though, we got into a "fight," or the closest we really come to fighting. You see, Boyfriend gets really angry about paying tolls. I understand it; in Michigan you don't have to pay tolls anywhere, and it's frustrating to move to a place where tolls are a way of life when it comes to road travel. When I went on trips in Florida, I hated paying tolls. But maybe I have just accepted them now, or maybe I have decided that I would rather pay $4.00 than wait in traffic for an extra hour. Boyfriend apparently disagrees with my complacency, and he also gets super mad when I try to tell him that it's okay to use a $20 to pay a $3 toll. Obviously it's not ideal, but I'm sorry, if the biggest problem with using a $20 is that it will somehow offend the person working the toll booth, that seems like flawed logic to me. If I were working in a toll booth in Gary, Indiana, on a Saturday, in the pouring rain, I don't think a $20 bill would really be that big of a game changer as far as my horrible day/life was concerned. I think because in that situation, I would most likely be either Amber or Gary from "Teen Mom," and therefore a $20 bill would definitely be the least of my worries. So yeah, Boyfriend got mad because I am not considerate of the toll people, and also he hates tolls, and so he wouldn't let me take our picture at the cider mill. That was my punishment for being inconsiderate, so we're all good now. It really wasn't that big of a deal, and all was really forgotten by the time we arrived at the cider mill, or definitely by the time we were driving back to Chicago and trying to figure out what we were listening to, which turned out to be some sort of strange radio comedy/drama on NPR, about family dynamics.

Have a great Monday! Wish me luck on my first day on le job!

If the music's too laser-y, you're too old?

2010-09-15T07:07:00.000-07:00

I think I'm getting old. Okay, I am aware that 21 is by no means old, unless I were part of an Amazonian tribe or living in whatever year "Mad Men" is on right now and Trudy Campbell would come up to me and say, "Don't worry, you're still very young." But despite all this, my brain is definitely aging, and here's why.

Boyfriend and I got back to the apartment on Sunday night after dropping off Christina at the airport, and there was still some time before it was the hour of "Mad Men," at which point all goes quiet and I am glued to the television. But it was dark already, so I couldn't go for a bike ride, and I all of a sudden realized that the MTV VMAs were on. I usually have zero desire to tune into something like the VMAs, but last year while I was sitting on my bed in Miami reading about libel law or education statistics or what have you, thinking about how I was way too cool and in college to watch the VMAs, there was some sort of "incident" involving Kanye West and my girl Taylor Swift, and I missed it and everyone else in the world was all over the Internets freaking out. I still don't really think I missed anything important because Taylor Swift is still popping out her sing-along songs and Kanye West is still here so what gives? But anyway, when I realized the VMAs were on and that my knowledge of pop music right now is whatever Channel 955 back in Detroit plays in between "MILF Call-In Hour," I thought, let's see what the kids are listening to these days!

And that is when I discovered that I must have missed something. I turned on MTV to first find a young lad by the name of "Justin Bieber" dancing on an outdoor stage to a crowd of screaming girls, and this Bieber was wearing something that looked like a varsity jacket except we all know it wasn't a real varsity jacket because even if Little Boy were old enough to be in high school, the likelihood that he would play a sport well enough to earn some sort of recognition seems, well...unlikely. So after a few beats, the regular back-up dancers dispersed, and enter stage left (and probably stage right) a small group of children. Not teens, not tweens, but toddlers. And they were doing the same dance, and then the other dancers came back on and it was like, "Hey world, look how young we are! We can dance like our mothers gave birth to uson set of 'Step Up 3D!" And things just got weirder from there.

After the Bieber performance ended, the cameras cut back to the actual VMA stage inside the Nokia Theatre, and the whole scene was like something from "Zenon: Girl of the 21st Century." There were lasers, and there was screaming, and the DJ was some sort of cartoon mouse (but he looked real, so did he just have a cartoon head?) wearing a t-shirt that said "Your Ad Here." Then Katy Perry and Ke$ha said some things, and I thought, "No one really thinks these people are talented, do they? We're all in on the same joke, right?" And I didn't have time to think about much because "Mad Men" came on and I was transported to a time where, sure, there was blatant sexism in the office and apparently everyone was just a terrible human being, in some way, but at least there weren't cartoons "spinning beats" at the MTV Video Music Awards. But then I turned on the television on this, the morning of my day off, and the VMAs were on, so I thought, ha ha, let's see what else there could be...Oh, Usher! I remember Usher! But...why are there so many lasers? And he's not singing...is this the movie "Tron?"

I obviously already know that I'm too old for MTV, but I was just taken aback by the level of crazy that seemed to come out of nowhere. Luckily, at the end of my VMA viewing, Taylor Swift came out to sing some sort of sad response to Kanye West's 2009 douchebaggery, and she was slightly off-key and I'm not really sure what her point was because it wasn't about being in a country version of Romeo & Juliet, but she performed without lasers or robots or cartoon rodents and all was right with the world. So I guess I can continue pretending I'm not too old for this, for now.

A Weekend of Football and Attempts to Fit In Where I Certainly Do Not Belong

2010-09-12T10:20:00.000-07:00

It's been quite a weekend. I am in need of a shower and some concentration on another blog post I must write, but for now, I will report the happenings of the past 48? 72? whatever? hours or so.

My friend Christina got into town on Thursday night, so we have been trying to pack in the fun. She leaves tonight to go back to San Francisco, and then my world will go temporarily back to being childcare-based until I start my adult job next Monday. So Thursday night, since she got in late, we didn't do much besides stop at Superdawg on the way home to have Chicago-style hot dogs! I had to get up at 6:30 the following morning (yikes) for my final day of babysitting that week. It was long and tiring, but we had grand plans to go out so I had to be strong.

After I got home, we quickly split a frozen pizza (although it was not frozen when we split it...ha ha) and then took a silly amount of public transportation options to get to East Pilsen for 2nd Fridays, this thing where all the art galleries open their doors, for free, and there is free wine and cheese and performance art. Now, it was a fun time, I'll say that. But it also reminded me why I am not cool enough for scenes such as this:

-My unwillingness to make myself look like Carey Mulligan...meaning haircut and not eating half of pizzas on a frequent basis
-Even though I missed the initial memo in what, like 1967, that smoking is bad for me, I somehow managed to figure that out through various education programs and "truth" campaigns, and therefore I do not fit in.
-Performance art makes me laugh, sometimes uncontrollably.

Among the more interesting things we saw were: two guys (obviously on a combination of hallucinogenic drugs) actually painting and drawing with permanent markers on a canvas in the middle of their studio, talking about how their minds were being blown and the universe was exploding, or something; a lady who looked like what would happen if the ghost of Eartha Kitt (side note: I just Googled, "is Eartha Kitt still alive?") had been camping out at some sort of bayou for a few years talking about Haitian voodoo art and her dog, Pepito, a chihuahua who was wearing a T-shirt that said, "Security"; and a performance art thing that was about what you would expect - a voice recording counting down random numbers, and then a bunch of people standing on platforms and talking to themselves. Thanks, art district.

After all that, we jumped back on the L and went downtown to meet Jen, and then we all went to Wrigleyville, which might be the most disgusting place I have encountered in recent days. That's really all I need to say about that.

Yesterday was a long, long day. Boyfriend is all excited because his team won, and while I was disappointed that my Canes lost, it was still a good game (minus some interceptions and other stupid mistakes, but there's no stopping tradition, as the Fiddler on the Roof tells us) and it was a lot of fun to be back around fellow Miami alumni and fans. I need to go buy my copy of ESPN's "The U" so I can watch it on my laptop, huddled under my blankets and crying myself to sleep as the blizzards start making their way here in just a few months/weeks.

The Return from Labor Day

2010-09-08T19:46:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Fall! Sort of, not technically, but have you stepped outside lately? It's almost chilly! And I love it. I'm back in Chicago now, and since it's so nice out the plan for tonight was supposed to center around a bike ride...it ended up being 80% cooking sloppy joes and 20% me getting road rage in Chinatown. But not in that order. SO ANYWAY, here's an update, on life!

The weekend trip back to [the] D-town [suburbs] was pleasant enough. 'Twas my mother's birthday and she was whisked away for a lovely birthday getaway, and Boyfriend was in Ann Arbor for football, so I got to stay at my house alone and do laundry. YAY! It wasn't all sad, though, because I got to hang out with my dear friend, Stephanie, and we went to Arts, Beats & Eats, which is a mostly-lame festival held annually in the Metro Detroit area. Now this was the first time I had been in yeeeears, and upon arriving I realized that it did not involve as much free food as I had remembered. In fact, it involved zero free food, and lots of food that visitors had to pay for using this dumb ticket system, which apparently has always been in place, but whatever, it sucks. I guess last time I was there, I had parents who paid for my food while I sat in a stroller or something? But whatever, it was really crowded and Stephanie and I were getting kind of claustrophobic walking through the rivers of White Trash that were flooding Royal Oak. The fun part was when the Mayer Hawthorne concert was over (hence the "Beats" portion of the festival name) and we started to head back to the car so we could drive to the movie theatre and see "Going the Distance" (ha ha, we are girls) when all of a sudden we heard...Usher? coming from some sort of alley? Now I was pretty sure that Usher was not at Arts, Beats & Eats, but I didn't have my glasses on and it looked like some sort of party was happening in the back alley by the porta-johns. Stephanie was also intrigued, so we walked through the alley and found...wait for it...THE R&B STAGE. Now I'll just tell you up front that it was a fantastic R&B cover group that did everything from Usher to the Jackson 5 (and they were good) but let's just consider, for a second, that this group - this stage - was hidden behind an alley where the toilets were. I mean, maybe there was an alternate entrance or something, but what the hell? There was an awful, AWFUL cover band right at the entrance of the "International" section of the event. Couldn't they have been hidden behind the toilets instead? Simply unacceptable. Thanks, Detroit, for really fostering love and understanding and RACISM.

So like I said, Stephanie and I went to see "Going the Distance," which was okay. Maybe my hopes were a little high because everyone was like, "Oh, yay, finally a smart romantic comedy that makes 'The Back-Up Plan' look like an even bigger pile of shit than it was!" (Disclosure: I was forced, so of, to see "The Back-Up Plan" and I will never forgive myself) And okay, I would give it a B+, maybe an A-. Stephanie made the point that it was a pretty accurate portrayal of a relationship, and I would have to agree, especially the part where they are long distancing and chatting on the phone while watching the same video of a panda bear sneezing on YouTube...that really brought back some scary memories of The Time of the Long Distance Relationship and I could feel the anxiety build up just from watching it. At the end, Stephanie asked, "Is being in a long distance relationship really that bad?" And I laughed/twitched and said "YES IT IS TERRIBLE." I shared this answer with Boyfriend and we decided that there are certain things that are fun, like when you get to see each other again! But the rest of it is just...difficult. Try it sometime! (DON'T!)

This really exhausted me...I wanted to do a recap of last night's "Teen Mom" because the lolz are out of control this season. But I don't think I could do it justice without blogging while watching, and that's not possible because Boyfriend is drooling over Piper Perabo in a commercial for her new CIA-related TV show, which just came on during "Psych." But I will tell you that if you are able to catch up on "Teen Mom," please do. Gary and Amber are crazier than ever, and Farrah's eye-rolling is at an all-time awesome. If you need a fix of show recaps, you should check out 2birds1blog, because the "Jersey Shore" recaps make me seriously lol.

I have to go back to babysitting tomorrow...WISH ME LUCK, and wish that I do not fall asleep in the middle of the day or become confronted with any toxic diapers.

It's LABOR DAY! ALMOST!

2010-09-03T13:55:00.000-07:00

Just as the song goes...

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

It's time for a little trip back to the Mitten. I am finished with my last full week of being Blair the Nanny, and that is a good thing because as hard as it is to fathom returning to an adult office environment, I'm extremely ready for a job that has much less (from what I understand) to do with poop.

Are you wondering what Boyfriend and I ultimately decided to do last night, in terms of our plans for entertainment? Well, HERE'S YOUR ANSWER.

LET'S GO GARY! It's a good thing we opted for Gary because the Canes game was a massacre, as I had expected it to be. Nicely done, Miami. Now I can have a mild and continuous panic attack until Game #2. So we went to Gary last night, home of the South Shore RailCats! And what a team they are.

Boyfriend and I got there with about 10 minutes to spare until the game started. The RailCats were playing the Schaumburg Flyers (boo!) who, as it turns out, suck. It took us a few minutes to figure out where to park, not because it was so crowded but because nothing was really labeled, as this is Gary and I guess they probably don't have too many tourists coming in right now. But we did find parking thanks to a nice gentleman in a vest, who told us where to park...and then charged us zero dollars. Yes, parking at this sporting event was free. So we proceeded to the ticket booth where Boyfriend purchased two of the "best tickets available" for $10. Total. We then entered the Steel Yard stadium and boy was it glorious. Our seats were fantastic and we even had time to explore the gift shop before the game started. So I purchased my RailCats t-shirt right away, but Boyfriend waited until later on when he could really decide which one he wanted.

Some high points of the game included the hecklers sitting behind us coming up with all sorts of hilarious whatnots to yell at the Flyers, who, may I remind you, suck. They did not score once. We scored a thousand times, approximately. Unfortunately, about three quarters of the way through the game (at which point it was acid raining on us) the hecklers were removed from their seats by security and were forced to stand up in the walking-around area. Boo! Some crazy obese man stood up and clapped when they were escorted out, which was awkward because everyone else loved those guys, and I think even the security guy was like "Look man, I don't want to have to do this just 'cause that fat guy can't have a good time," but they'll probably be back, because it seems like they go there a lot. Hmm what else happened...oh yes, Boyfriend witnessed one of the stadium employees telling the mascot that he really had to go down on the field and dance, and the mascot clearly did not want to do so. And then when he got down there to do the Cha Cha Slide or some other demeaning act, he spun his head around like in "The Exorcist," in front of children. It. was. awesome. Also, we got coupons for free roast beef! Minor League Baseball is America.

Now it's time to pack up and get ready for that lovely drive down I-94...catch you after the holiday!

The Nanny Diaries version 2.0...not really.

2010-09-02T07:07:00.000-07:00

So hey there, everyone, it's September. How/when did that happen? I'm not sure. I guess maybe sometime between getting the TV working and almost pulling my hair out due to an inconsolable baby who is growing teeth and now wants to bite me all the time, in addition to crying. But oh well, we're here now, and it's raining. This week has been a lot of work and very little play, except for a trip to the movies and...yup, that's pretty much it. But that all changes tonight! Maybe. Here are the options for post-nannying entertainment:

-Tonight is the Canes' first football game of the season! C-A-N-E-S CANES! So I'm obviously excited to see us (hopefully, please God) kick some be-hind tonight vs. FA&MU. Also, FA&MU has a bangin' band...like "Drumline" except without having to look at Nick Cannon. The game is showing at the Official Canes Bar of Chicago, some fake Irish place, because what bar here isn't a fake Irish place? Last time we went (we = me, Boyfriend, friend Erica and friend Erica's boyfriend) Boyfriend speculated that the bartender might even be sporting a fake Boston accent. Why is that necessary? We are in Chicago...there is an annoying accent you could just pick up from your surroundings! No need to venture to the East Coast! So anyway, there is that tonight.
-However, there is also the last regular home game for the Gary South Shore Rail Cats, which I'm sure you know is the Gary, Indiana minor league baseball team. They play at the Steel Yard! There is literally fire happening across from the baseball stadium, at all times, probably sending death rays to the OZone a thousand times over. And after the game tonight, there are fireworks! And this sounds fun but it also sounds really risky, because should we really be, first of all, exploding anything in Gary, and second of all, be sending fire into a sky that is probably 98% pollution? How will I answer these questions if I don't go to the game?

The decision is mostly reliant on weather at this point. It's gross out. And this is bad news because it means I can't take el bebe out on a walk, an activity that tends to contribute to my sanity in a positive way.

Oh, last night Bagels called me but my phone was on a low volume and I was watching back-to-back episodes of "True Life." Ha, Bagels! I was not sleeping. I wasn't sleeping until 9:45. And it's not really fair that no matter how early I go to bed, 6:30 AM still feels like the hour of my death, as soon as I wake up. Not fair at all! I guess one problem might be that I'm having trouble sleeping through the night. The past couple of nights, I have woken up at random times, sometimes because of my crazy nightmares and sometimes for no reason at all. Boyfriend says I should talk to a "dream doctor" and I made fun of this idea, because first of all, I was raised by a family that tends to avoid seeking professional medical help at all costs until death seems imminent, but also because I'm not sure there is such thing as a "dream doctor," unless this is something that exists on television between the hours of 1:00 and 7:00 AM.

So Boyfriend said I should talk to someone about "lucid dreaming" which is when you dream but you are somehow aware that you are dreaming, and so I guess you don't get scared of things that happen to you in your dream. The conversation went something like this...

Boyfriend: You should get the doctor to teach you lucid dreaming.
Me: What's that?
Boyfriend: It's when you are dreaming but you know that you are dreaming.
Me: Oh right, you told me that. So I have control over my dreams?
Boyfriend: Yes, so you have control.
Me: So after I ask this, is the doctor going to make me carve a thimble that doesn't stand up straight or something so I don't flip out and jump off a building when I can't figure out if I'm awake or not?
Boyfriend: No, and I am pretty sure the doctor will at this point be really tired of every "Inception" joke you can come up with.

If such a doctor even exists, I'm certainly not going to make an appointment with someone who can't appreciate timely dream humor! So that concludes this post. "But Blair, you called this 'The Nanny Diaries version 2.0,' and you didn't really say anything about your nannying experience." Good catch, reader. I have decided not to blog so much about this job, because the child is just a defenseless baby who can't even sit up straight let alone get from point A to point B without rolling over. So it's not really fair to talk about him. "But you have blogged about those other children, and they don't know they are being discussed on the Internet!" Yes, but those children were evil and deserved it. The End!

For now, GO CANES! And GOOOO RAIL CATS!

Intimate Conversations with Blair and Bagels

2010-08-26T20:00:00.000-07:00

(Written last night, but posted tonight because I WAS SO TIRED. Ditto this evening.)
Ugh I AM SO TIRED. I started nannying today and it really took the life out of me. And then I had the realization that maybe that's what parenting is like, except instead of leaving for the day you put your kid to sleep, and you're so happy because you finally have a second to think about something besides the fact that you are covered in baby fluids, but that only lasts a second because then you realize you have to wake up and do it all again. FOREVER. Ha ha, I will hold onto my twenties for dear life from now on.

Since I have absolutely no energy to come up with anything to tell you, I will simply copy and paste a conversation between Bagels and myself on The Facebook chat. Bagels recently began law school at Indiana University and is adjusting to the "culture." Enjoy.

Blair: It's actually probably good that you don't live here, even though I miss you

Blair: You would make fun of me and [Boyfriend] SO MUCH

Blair: regarding our lifestyle choices

Bagels: blair

Bagels: i was hungover for the first day of law school

Bagels: i'm judging myself

Blair: That was sort of a pun!

Bagels: What do you and [Boyfriend] do?

Blair: Get it..."judge..." law school!

Bagels: hahahahahaha

Blair: We have dinner and sometimes we go to Target.

Blair: Maybe watch the Daily Show if we can stay up that late...keep in mind it comes on at 10 here.

Bagels: hahahahhahahahha

Blair: Also we just made a spreadsheet to monitor who pays for what!

Bagels: HAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHA

Bagels: do you open a bottle of wine to share, and then just finish it?

Blair: Well I always open it to share, but for some reason he never wants any...so yes.

Bagels: Well there are two dollar patron shots here
Blair: I found the Trader Joe's and got my $4.99 wine

Bagels: welcome to farm country

Blair: haha because "God made rain and rain makes whiskey"

Blair: or something?

Blair: no God made CORN

Bagels: who knows

Bagels: but we should talk on the phone this weekend

Blair: Are you doing $2 patron shots currently?

Bagels: i have a shit ton of stories

Blair: Okay!

Bagels: yesterday

Bagels: i need recovery

Blair: you've moved on to greater pastures

Blair: and actual pastures

Bagels: pretty much

Blair: Tomorrow is nannying day 2

...and then I went to nanny for the second time and came home completely exhausted. Nannying a baby who cannot communicate verbally why he is sad is difficult enough, but when said baby is growing teeth and therefore in some sort of physical pain, for which nothing is a remedy, that is another story. Actually, nannying a baby who isn't teething is not that bad. This teeth thing, though...tough times. So Boyfriend and I actually managed to stay up for "The Daily Show"...because we are doing a serious cleaning of the apartment. Go us. So until next time, don't have kids unless you're prepared to maneuver a stroller around all sorts of impossible corners and through doors that don't stay open!

Adventures in Racism or Something Like It, the Blair & Boyfriend Story.

2010-08-23T07:39:00.000-07:00

Howdy, folks. So real quickly, I should tell you that I am back from orientation and it was surprisingly a good time. The hours we spent in a windowless room talking about different forms of poverty were maybe not the best hours of my life (certainly not the worst) but it was fun because a) I met a lot of really nice people, and b) we spent two evenings at a bar called "Miller's Ale House" disturbing the locals with our beer pitchers and dancing and crazy idealism. I don't remember the last time I split a $5 pitcher with someone (okay, two $5 pitchers) and the conversation at the table was mostly about everyone's human rights work experience. Maybe that sounds awful to you but it was GREAT, OKAY?! So even though I was happy to get back to the apartment and non-buffet style meals, I was kind of sad to go.

I got back Friday afternoon, and that evening Boyfriend, friend Erica and I went up to the Lincoln Park-ish area, I guess, to meet up with my coworker and her gang for a 16 Candles concert. Who are 16 Candles, you ask? Oh, just an '80s cover band. If there's something I love as much or almost as much as karaoke, it's cover bands. I think it began with a football game experience at Florida State but I'm not entirely sure. Either way, fun, fun times.

So that brings us to Saturday. As you know, Boyfriend and I have been struggling with our Comcast-related emotions, because it has taken pretty much every ounce of strength in me not to go to the Comcast headquarters and set the place on fire, after safely evacuating everyone of course. Can I get arrested for saying this? Only time will tell, I guess. Just in case: I am not actually going to set anything on fire. Okay, so we were told that we would be sent some prepaid boxes to return all of the crap that they sent us that we didn't want but they thought they could make us pay for, but guess what, no such boxes have arrived. And now I'm getting phone calls more than once a day from recorded voices telling me to please return the Comcast equipment that I have that is not in use. And first of all, I really just want to destroy it and save someone a lot of hassle by keeping them from installing this cable box in their home, but I don't want to be billed $500 or whatever Comcast will most likely do as a result of me taking a sledgehammer to the equipment they sent me that I didn't want. So on Saturday, Boyfriend and I decided to just get this over with and drive over to Comcast and return this stuff. Of course, it's really difficult to find out the store's hours, because I don't even know if they're printed online and no one answers the phone over there, so that's awesome. So of course we got over there around 3 PM and the place closed at 1. Suck. it. Comcast.

We didn't have much else to do so we decided to venture out to the "nearest" Best Buy to use Boyfriend's $15 gift card. Now, the "nearest" Best Buy at that point happened to be, according to the Garmin, a few miles south on the freeway and then west...and if you don't know Chicago (I barely know Chicago) you should just know that this is not a place you would probably want to go for a jog late at night. But it's a perfectly fine place to go to Best Buy in the middle of the day. So we parked and walked into Best Buy and started browsing. Seconds after getting to the phone section, the one white guy working at the Best Buy came over and exchanged with us the following dialogue:

Best Buy White Guy: Hi there! Can I help you find something?
Boyfriend: I think we're just looking right now, but thanks.
BBWG: Okay. You're not lost are you?
Boyfriend: Uh...no?
BBWG: Hm. Are you sure?
Boyfriend: Yes.
BBWG: *confused* Okay...

New favorite Best Buy location, 4 lyfe!

Heads up!

2010-08-17T08:39:00.000-07:00

I will be away from le blog this week as I am off to the Illinois suburbs for job orientation. I am also dying of some sort of terrible cough that tends to strike at night, when I am trying to sleep, so I'm sure the girl who has the pleasure of being my roommate this week is going to LOVE me.

Hasta luego!

Putting off Comcast AS LONG AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE.

2010-08-12T10:14:00.000-07:00

Since Comcast is essentially the biggest bitch of all time, I am reluctant to jump in the car and drive over there with two big boxes of cable equipment on what would otherwise be a pleasant Thursday. And that's lucky for you, because it means I am going to enjoy the air conditioning a little longer and eat Teddy Grahams on my bed while blogging, for you!

The apartment is so close to being finished. It pretty much is finished, except for all the bins that Boyfriend used to transport his belongings and the suitcases we both have that don't really fit anywhere. Storage, perhaps? Last night we went to Target and got something to house the cable box and Playstation, so they are no longer on the floor. But about three seconds ago I realized that if I am going to Comcast today, this might mean that I have to unplug our current cable box to get a new one...and I am not excited about that idea. So let's not think about it for now.

Maybe I mentioned this lightblogs ago, but when Boyfriend and I first started talking about post-college life, however many months ago, Chicago was not our first choice city. In fact, I would go so far as to say it was right down there with Jacksonville or Boise. It just felt like such a lame move, because in case you are unaware, this place is up to its eyeballs in Michigan kids. Plus, after living in New York, everything feels like a lame move. But we are both enjoying it now, because our neighborhood is great and if careful, one can mostly (with some exceptions) avoid the douchebaggery that is brought here by children of the Midwest. The other day, Boyfriend and I were talking about cities, though, and he argued that Chicago doesn't really count as the Midwest, because it is a city. I disagreed. Let's explore, shall we?

On Semester at Sea, my roommate (from Colorado) and I got into an argument about what qualified as the Midwest. It ended in her thinking I was being serious about all the mean things I probably said about Colorado, and me printing out the USA regions page of Wikipedia in order to defend my arguments, but that's neither here nor there. I guess the question here is whether or not a city is really so different than the region of which it is part. If Illinois is in the Midwest, and so are Michigan, Wisconsin, and Indiana, then Chicago is absolutely part of the Midwest. Atlanta is a city, but that doesn't mean it's not part of the South. So therefore, I win. So that was settled. And then Boyfriend challenged me to explain how Chicago was really so much more Midwestern than New York.

There's this drug addicted, potentially-homeless, definitely smelly guy who frequently hangs out in the stairwells of our Metra stop. The first time I noticed him, I was in the station by myself, trying to buy a ticket to go downtown. I heard the guy start yelling and clapping and I will be honest, it scared me a little, so I walked down to the next station a few blocks away so I could buy my ticket and go about my day sans-crazy. Of course, he came back another day, and I realized that if we were to co-exist I was going to have to accept him as the crazy Metra stairs guy who probably wouldn't kill me. Hopefully. When I got my ticket and walked past him on the stairs he just sat there with some sort of box of fast food and drug of choice, and I realized that he will probably be around and we'll just have to respect each other's space.

This little rendezvous with the crack guy just served as a reminder that I have forgotten what it is like to live in New York, at least a little. Living in New York isn't just being jaded by the amount of crazy people. The crazy people in New York are just an exceptional breed. Here it's just a guy who likes crack. In New York it would probably be a one-legged tranny with a Siamese cat on a leash hanging around outside the W. 4th subway stop. Not too many one-legged trannies in Chicago, and that is a damn shame.

So it's the little things that set this place apart as a city of the Midwest. Some are nice, some are boring, but all in all I like this city more than I thought I would. Maybe this is a silly thing to think, but here you can still feel a little important, or that you could be important. I love New York, but there it's easy to feel like just another body on the subway.

Messy Kid

2010-08-11T14:15:00.000-07:00

I have been such a bad blogger lately, so I won't waste precious time giving excuses and will instead get to the point.

I am tired. It is not even 3 PM and I just want to nap. This morning I drove (in Rowdy, who has been saved!) north, past the Loop and into what I guess would be Andersonville (maybe?) to babysit. But let's be clear. I was babysitting two boys, one of whom is a human tornado. Over the course of four hours, I had to sit the little guy down on the kitchen counter and clean the following off of him: magic marker, popsicle, yogurt, pizza. That's basically everything that he touched that could have caused a mess.

So first off, the markers. I thought he was playing so well with the markers, because his mom warned me that he likes to eat them. And he wasn't eating them, so I thought he was being good. Then he got down off of his chair and his legs were covered in blue ink. Later on, the two of them got popsicles because they were being good and apparently I was allowed to give them popsicles. I walked away from the kitchen table for about ten seconds, to throw something away, and when I looked back at them from the kitchen sink, Human Tornado was hitting the dining room chair with his popsicle, thus breaking the popsicle into small pieces which fell onto the floor. Yogurt was just messy, plain and simple. Pizza was also messy, because when you smack your pizza with your hand, THIS MAKES A MESS.

So what did I learn this morning? Apparently I am much more patient than I thought. Also, I had forgotten how quickly games can change, thematically. For example, the older child had me playing some game that began with waking up an imaginary bear (he lives in the basement closet) while wearing a hard hat and dancing to Older Child's favorite song ("Don't Stop" by Fleetwood Mac, of course). But then all of a sudden Older Child was a doctor and told me I needed shots while poking me in the arm with a plastic ice cream cone (makeshift needle?). I had just started adapting to this new game when Older Child stood up suddenly and said, "Aha! I have solved the mystery!" and explained something about finger prints. It was a challenge to keep up. There was a similar trend in our conversations:

Older Child: What are you doing tomorrow?
Me: I think I might go to the market to get some vegetables.
Older Child: You don't have to babysit tomorrow?
Me: No, just today.
Older Child: Do you have any husbands?
Me: No, I don't have any husbands.
Older Child: Why not?
Me: I don't want one right now! Maybe later.
Older Child: What's his name?
Me: What do you think my husband's name will be?
Older Child: Rex.
Me: Awesome.
Older Child: Have you ever seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa?

In other news, my sister came to visit this week! Hooray! I got to show her Hyde Park, take her to the Museum of Science and Industry, and go out to lunch twice. We also got to sweat half to death walking through the 90 degree weather!

Here we are after enjoying the MSI. I am wearing my super-awesome bright red plastic sunglasses, since my preferred pair of sunglasses had been broken for a few weeks. I had been wearing them until my sister arrived, but she informed me that they were visibly crooked and therefore I had been walking around looking like my face was slanted for at least a month.

Annnnnnd here we are, enjoying Chicago some more!

Tonight will be an exciting night in the Real Adult Lives of Boyfriend and Myself because we are going to Costco to buy things! Do you think I used the word "exciting" with even a hint of sarcasm? You don't have to be a hater just because our idea of a fun evening involves Costco pizza and On Demand marathons of "Louie." I'm going to a Miami alum bar night tomorrow that will most likely involve forced participation in drinking games by the over-60 crowd, so a night of rest and preparation will do me good. Hopefully? I'm babysitting Friday night, and then hopefully Saturday I will be spending my earnings on pizza and beer in between karaoke numbers. So in case you were wondering, things are pretty swell.

Apartment Cooking with Blog and Blair

2010-08-03T13:55:00.000-07:00

The gradual entry into "Real Life" has begun. It kicked off on Saturday with Boyfriend's return from India (or "Asia," as School Nurse Jen would say...not that she's wrong!) and now consists of Boyfriend going to work in the morning and me watching Kathy Griffin marathons and cooking. I'd say I feel like the Betty Draper of Hyde Park but obviously Betty can afford a maid to cook things for her, so I guess that would make me...Trudy Campbell? And let me say that I'm all for women's lib and whatever but sometimes it's fun to watch bad television and make macaroni and cheese and brownies from scratch. Who am I kidding - it's always fun to do those things. So thanks a lot older female relatives, for really screwing that up for us! Just kidding...your sacrifice is appreciated.

But I know that by the time September rolls around, I'll be ready to get to work. And I got a head start yesterday, sort of, because I volunteered to go into my office and help out! And you know how much I hate working for free, so the fact that I like my near-future job enough to want to volunteer to do things for them really says a lot about my level of excitement. I downloaded photos from a Web site and burned them onto a giant stack of CDs, for hours, and I was happy the whole time. So there you go!

Now, this post is called "Apartment Cooking with Blog and Blair" because in my temporary role as Trudy Campbell 2.0 (side note: that in no way means that Boyfriend is Pete Campbell 2.0, hellz no) I have taken an interest in the kitchen. It's shocking, really, considering I lived off Lean Cuisines and quesadillas for most of college while Susan made gazpacho for fun. But cooking is kind of fun, especially now that I am no longer in Miami and no longer super concerned about cockroaches attacking me from under the sink. So as you know, I made macaroni and cheese from the "Good Stuff" cookbook that Boyfriend gave me, and I also made something out of Real Simple. Before I left for Chicago, I ripped out recipes from my mother's abandoned stacks of Real Simple magazines, and they're pretty handy. So what are we cooking today, you ask? First, I'm having chocolate withdrawals so it's time to do some peanut butter/chocolate brownie baking. And then for dinner we will be having pasta with marinated tomatoes and mozzarella. It's "Real Simple" (ha ha get it?) but there are some limitations to my cooking abilities. I actually do okay when it comes to meal preparation. But I'm finding that the shopping process can be a little more complicated than I would like. For example, today I went to the grocery store needing a specific type of tomato, apparently, for this pasta. And this grocery store has a big produce section, and I searched high and low but could not find any tomatoes with labels that said they were the tomatoes that I needed. Now, my mother is a good cook, but I did not grow up in a household that really valued cooking, per se. So there are just some things I don't know - names of things, what is used for what, etc. And so this is the part where it becomes necessary for me, an "adult," to call my 19-year-old sister and ask her to Google "beefsteak tomato" for me so I can stop wandering around the produce section like a homeless vegetarian.

Sister: Hello?
Me: Hey, I need you to do me a favor, can you do that?
Sister: Sure, I'll try...what is it?
Me: I need to buy this tomato, but I can't find it so I need you to find out if it has a different name or something.
Sister: Okay, what's it called?
Me: Beefsteak tomato.
Sister: Okay...how do I spell it?
Me: Beef as in cow, and then steak as in...cow...and it's one word. And then tomato.
Sister: Got it.
Me: So, anything helpful coming up?
Sister: Yea, I'm on Wikipedia. They are a pound or more...
Me: *picks up big tomato, tries to judge its weight without knowing at all how to do so*
Sister: Varieties of it are Beefmaster -
Me: *laughs at the word "Beefmaster"*
Sister: Big Beef, Brandywine, Bucking Bronco, Cherokee Purple, Marmande, Mortgage Lifter, Pink Beefsteak, Coeur de Boeuf.
Me: I didn't see any of those.
Sister: Don't all tomatoes basically taste the same?
Me: I guess...yeah, they do, right? So you think I should just pick out the biggest tomato I can find?
Sister: Yeah, probably.

= Why I will never be on "Top Chef," in any participating American city.

Brownie baking is about to commence, so this will be all for now. But don't forget that it's TEEN MOM TUESDAY!

Happy TMT, everyone!

The two week mark.

2010-07-29T15:54:00.000-07:00

Boyfriend comes home on Saturday, hoorah! In the meantime, Happy Jersey Shore Season 2 Night. Yes, I said it. I'm watching the lead-up marathon right now, and since this obviously puts my brain into "idle" mode, I thought I would instead update the blog while I watch.

It was beautiful out today, so after a weird night of sleep I went to the beach. But first, the weird night of sleep. I went downtown yesterday because I had received two memos from the apartment management telling me that in order to stop having semi-frequent power outages, ComEd would be shutting the power off for a few hours in order to upgrade our electricity. So instead of sit in the apartment and die of heat stroke, I decided to see a movie. Boyfriend and a bunch of Facebook statuses told me to see "Inception" so that's what I did. And then my brain exploded. And then I came home where I was greeted with another memo. ComEd brought the wrong equipment (??) so they did not upgrade the electricity, so there was no power outage. But whatever, I saw a good movie. The rest of the night was just dinner and the gym and some TV. At the gym, someone put "Criminal Minds" on the TV, and I had never seen the show before! By the time I left the gym the show was 20 minutes in, and so I ran upstairs and turned it on.

As I mentioned, this was my first experience with "Criminal Minds." For those of you who think it is some sort of "Law & Order"-like program (like I did), it is not. It is terrifying. The episode I saw was about a serial killer who carves out his victims' eyes to use in his taxidermy. I would advise against watching this program if you frequently have to go into a creepy, dark basement to retrieve your bicycle.

So anyway, I somehow was able to fall asleep even after that. But in my sleep, Leonardo DiCaprio told me that I was in someone else's dream, and I woke up in a panic! If you have seen "Inception," you know how crazy this would be.

I got my bike out this morning and thankfully was not attacked by an eye-carving serial killer in the basement. But I got a little nervous when the guy with the mop came down, because he is always mopping, and where he is mopping, I am always dragging my dirty bike or walking in my dirty flip flops. If anyone is going to lose it and take my eyes in rage, it's probably the mop guy. Side note: I don't know what he was mopping with today, but the entire lobby smells like a combination of lemon car freshener and Ramen noodles. It is gross.

Other than that, nothing of note really happened during my trip to the grocery stores. Yes, stores, plural. Boyfriend sent me a cookbook that might as well be called "How to Cook Your Way to a Part on a Weight Loss Reality Show" and the food is delicious. I am making something when he gets back and it requires a lot of different herbs. So I went to the produce store, which shockingly only had one of the produce items I needed. So I went to the closer grocery store and found the rest. And then there was an elderly gentleman in the checkout line who couldn't quite figure out the credit card machine. He finally got the hang of it and then mumbled something about the "wheels of progress," so I guess this was his first time in a grocery store since 1953.

In case I haven't mentioned it, I am loving the neighborhood. Aside from the lack of frozen yogurt and diet beverages, everything is awesome. It is diverse and the people are so nice! Strangers say hello to me on the street! People do that back in Michigan, but my town isn't a big city, so it's more normal. After living in New York and Miami, friendly strangers is a nice surprise. So HELLO, neighborhood! It has been a lovely two weeks.

Today I learned about harassment.

2010-07-26T16:37:00.000-07:00

Not-so-important announcement: le blog will soon be free of ads! Maybe. If I can figure out how to delete them, which is only somewhat likely. But it's the thought that counts, right?

My new "job" - and I'll get to why that is in " " in a minute - prohibits me from gaining any money from doing anything else while I am working. Putting ads on this blog was kind of a lame attempt to see how much money I could make, by talking about my feelings, and the answer is: not much, except when Blog Fan #1 dedicates her time to sitting at her computer and clicking ads repeatedly (you go girl). I don't mind, though. I haven't even bothered to fill out the paperwork required to collect my earnings, and let's just say that in addition to downloading the latest version of iTunes, paperwork is something I choose to avoid whenever possible.

Another reason that I'm having doubts about my year-long commitment of whatever exactly I am doing! Today I had to spend maybe over an hour watching cartoons explain harassment to me. For my work. It was really tedious, they spoke very slowly, and it was a confusing situation involving a guy who didn't want to cut his long hair because of his "cultural identity." I would tell you about it but I don't want to accidentally virtually harass the creators of that horrible cartoon.

During my hour of involuntary cartoon-watching and paperwork filling-out, I was told multiple times (by a narrator) that I am not an employee, and this is not a job. So that made me sad, because here I was, all excited to have been offered a job, and I guess I was wrong! Instead, I am committing to a year of service (I sort of already knew that). I think the main thing that I have started to realize is that not only am I dedicating a year to working on the issue of poverty, but I am apparently supposed to do this by living in poverty myself. Is this intentional? Did the masterminds behind this whole thing decide that in addition to working in offices for organizations that strive to take on poverty-related issues, I need to be poor so I can really understand what is going on? I'm not objecting to this idea. I don't know if I'm really for it, but there's not much I can do now except go with it. And go with it I shall, poor as I will be.

Before I start working, though, I have about two months of plan-less time! I'm wondering if I should just enjoy it, since apparently I'm going to be poor and overworked for the next year, or find temporary employment to offset the poverty that is soon to befall me. Whether or not I can actually find temporary employment is another story, but I'm considering my options. Exploring the city is fun but two months is a long time to not be making any $$$.

Thunder, lightning, cooking, and adventures in cooking.

2010-07-25T19:01:00.000-07:00

I wish I could honestly say something like, "Hey sorry I haven't been updating, promise I'll be better!" but I can't really promise, because I have no idea what I will be up to this next week. It could be exploring, it could be attempting to go to bed early until "Hustle & Flow" comes on and you know I can't turn that down. But in either case, apologies apologies.

This past Thursday, I went out with newly employed Nurse Jen (soon-to-be School Nurse Jen) and company. Jen's friend won a party at this bar in what I guess would be considered "River North" although I still don't understand the neighborhood layout at all, so maybe disregard that, and it was a ton o' fun. The bar can only be described as "fratty," and it's a real bridge and tunnel crowd, whatever the term for that is in Chicago. Freeway and Metra? Not as catchy.

I was planning to take the Metra back at 11:20 but that would mean leaving the bar at 11, which I did not want to do, because of all the dancing! So I sucked it up and took a cab back. Blah blah. That's so far the only real downside to the location of the apartment. It's a little far from downtown so on the rare night I/we stay out late, the options for returning home are few. Other than that, though, love the neighborhood. And my cab driver from Ghana and I really bonded over our Africa discussion, despite the fact that I have never been to Ghana, so maybe he can be our personal cab driver, and offer discounts? Hooray!

Another downside, I guess, would be weather. But that's not limited to Hyde Park, obviously. It is the entire Chicago area and possibly the Midwest, since I heard Milwaukee suffered some sort of biblical flood. It has been storming like crazy here, usually only when I want to leave the apartment and/or go to the beach. Luckily, even though this morning I woke up in a cloud (as in, looked out the window and only saw white) the blue sky came out just in time for a trip to the beach with Erica! We Miami people need our sunlight, or we die.

There have been a few problems the past few days related to partial power outages and Comcast screwing up our cable, but nothing too major yet. But one great success I had the other night, following my first actual encounter with bubble tea during a trip to Chinatown, was cooking! I can cook, apparently. I didn't set anything on fire or food poison myself, to my knowledge, so I'm just going to continue cooking like I know exactly what I'm doing, all the time. I made balsamic poached chicken - sounds fancy, right? Chicken and asparagus and potatoes. Nothing too crazy.

I told Boyfriend and he was surprised that I put forth so much effort for myself. I explained that I wanted to make sure I could cook before I offered to do it for him or other people. Besides, I ate the leftovers for dinner tonight, so everyone wins! Everyone = me, I guess.

"Mad Men" just came on so I MUST GO.

Mostly settled in Chicago.

2010-07-21T18:50:00.000-07:00

I have been totally absent from le blog lately, apologies! The truth is that I have been in the process of moving in since I arrived here in the Windy City, which should at the moment be called the Super Duper Hot City With Unreliable Electricity. Thankfully, though, there have not been any power outages since the other night.

And I have Internet now! REJOICE. I don't have to trek over to Starbucks twice a day to get hopped up on Passion tea and hope there's an available seat (it's a popular place!). Now I can blog while sitting in my comfy chair, eating Teddy Grahams and watching Degrassi between sentences.

Speaking of television, I went to Bartlett last night to visit Nurse Jen and watch the season two premier of "Teen Mom." Disastrous, as usual - the show, not my trip. My trip went fine, and Jen had even prepared a delicious meal which we had for dinner upon my arrival. In "Teen Mom," we learned that Amber thought she was pregnant, for a day, and she had that I'm-going-to-puke face for an hour longer than usual until she found out that she wasn't pregnant, THANK GOODNESS. Her excuse for not using protection with her hunk of a husband, Gary? "It was a heat of the moment thing." How anyone can have something that can be described as "heat of the moment" with Gary is beyond crazy but the good news is Amber is not producing more children, for now.

The journey back from Bartlett was long. The train schedules didn't really match up so I spent a while in Anthropologie looking for candles or something, and I ended up with a $10 purse, hooray. And then I took the Metra back to Hyde Park. Back in the apartment I realized that Comcast failed me, by bringing a regular cable box and not an HD one, for our supercool HD television! So I had to call Comcast and point out the error, and now they are mailing me a new box, which is inconvenient because I was hoping they would send that same guy back to install it for me. But apparently Comcast cannot be bothered to fix its mistakes.

I spent most of the afternoon figuring out the laundry situation and then doing laundry while also watching "Superstar" and finishing off a bag of Sun Chips. But a little while ago I became tired of looking for entertainment on the television and Interwebz and decided to go on a biking exploration! So that's what I did. There are great bike paths by the lake, so I look forward to many more biking explorations to come!

There has still been no word on Rowdy's progress so I'm not sure if I'm going back home to Michigan this weekend. I do know that I plan to go out tomorrow night with friends, and it's sure to be a fun-tastic time.

Oh, right! Here is a picture of the living room. The other half isn't totally finished, because there are some...decorations...that need to be put up on the walls (you will soon see) but the place looks pretty good at this point!

Crazy Metra stairway residents, partial power outages, and Starbucks' Internet: I'M ALIVE.

2010-07-19T09:37:00.000-07:00

My laptop is low on battery and I'll probably be leaving the Starbucks soon so this is going to be short, and I'm sorry. Blog Fan Numero Uno asked/demanded that I update, so HERE. I. AM. I am alive and mostly well, despite a partial power outage last night that left me wondering why I came to Chicago to live the life of Laura Ingalls Wilder, being shouted at by some insane man who I guess lives in the stairway of the Metra stop during the day on Sunday, if it rains, and many other minor setbacks and challenges. For the most part, though, things are awesome. Being in a city is fun, aside from the problem of grocery shopping without a car (something that will hopefully change once Rowdy gets his health back) and I'm liking the neighborhood so far!

The apartment is pretty much all set up, except for TV, Internet, and bookshelves that will be built today. Oh right, and this morning I woke up to the maintenance guy knocking on my bedroom door, because this Central time thing is so out of whack that apparently people just start their day insanely early. Yes, I think I have to blame that on Central time. The maintenance guy came to fix the light in two of our closets, but apparently the flickering cannot be fixed; "That's just the way they turn on." Thanks for waking me up in such a jarring manner to tell me this. But for real, at least we know that maintenance does not mess around! They did, in fact, fix the mysterious partial power outage in about two hours. In the meantime I watched "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," a movie I didn't know I owned, and continued putting together photo frames, slicing my finger in the process. All in a day's work, my friends!

Now I must go - time for a Costco run! More updates and pics ASAP. PROMISE.

A little late for a countdown, because move-out/move-in day approaches!

2010-07-13T13:45:00.000-07:00

With a day and a half left to get my stuff organized and ready to move to Chicago and then up to the top floor of the apartment (Boyfriend's idea...probably going to regret agreeing to the top floor come Friday afternoon), it seems a little late to start any sort of countdown. But what the hey: day after tomorrow!

Am I ready to go? Hm... well, I'm getting tired of going to the pool by myself, if that's what you're asking. But I will miss my room, and mi madre, and not paying for groceries most of the time. Oh, and also I am not remotely finished with packing. Not at all. I was doing a great job about a month ago, and then I decided to dedicate most of my free time to watching all the marathons TV has had in store for me recently, and also going to the beach approximately twice. And reading? Activities, okay?! "Lots" of activities.

So in a little bit, mi madre will be returning home and we're going shopping for awesome things like Swiffers and dishwasher detergent. Unfortunately, this night can't all be good, and following our brief shopping excursion I am committing myself to an unknown hours of babysitting hell, most likely my last time ever with this family. Yes, the one with the girl who has insane tantrums and throws her mother's underwear in the middle of the upstairs hallway as a result, leaving me to wonder what the hell I'm supposed to do to make this underwear-in-hallway situation as minimally awkward as possible. Did I mention that before? Not sure, but it was terrible and the best idea I came up with was to sort of kick it into the parents' bedroom so there wouldn't have to be any "So, your cracked out daughter threw a hissy fit and scattered your unmentionables around the house" conversation. I was a little worried they'd find the damage and assume I was the one ransacking the house, but they called me again so apparently we've all decided to move on from whatever happened on that terrible babysitting evening. It's really a good thing that doctors' offices are closed when I finish babysitting at midnight or 1 AM, because if they weren't, I can't honestly say that I wouldn't consider walking into a medical office, handing over my reproductive organs and asking that they please be put in a lock box with a giant picture of Tantrum-Thrower and the words "Ha ha HAVE A NICE LIFE, SUCKER" on the outside.

But that's enough graphic child-hatred for today. Perhaps I'm speaking too soon; maybe Tantrum-Thrower will really come around and be well-behaved tonight, since it's our last night to really hang and watch "Full House" together like the BFFs that we are! They will actually be going right to bed when I arrive, so I can call my real friend who is off to Japan, and also watch the last episode of "The Hills" ever, which will probably be about as bad as every other episode of "The Hills" that ever existed. But aww, guys, we grew up with these wack jobs! I mean, my gripping docu-drama "Colin's Beach," starring me and my friends at my friend Colin's beach, was loosely based on "Laguna Beach," except without drinking or yelling or the core elements of "Laguna Beach." And now these people are "really growing up," except I think it's a little overdue because most of them are older than we are. But whatever the case, tonight we celebrate the L.C. and Kristin Cavallari in all of us, and of course, a farewell to Justin Bobby, whom we will all miss so dearly.

HERE'S TO YOU, JUSTIN BOBBY. More to come...eventually.

Mischa Barton: Yet another thing for me to fear irrationally.

2010-07-07T20:14:00.000-07:00

I need to go to bed. Immediately. If I don't go to sleep now, I am not sure I will fall asleep tonight, and then I'll wake up feeling awful just like I did this morning, with a piercing headache. And it will all be Mischa Barton's fault.

Tonight my dear friend Mariam came over to hang out, because soon she will be in DC for grad school and I will be in Chicago, and well, we haven't hung out in forever! Since it's a kajillion degrees outside (and that's in Celsius) we wanted to limit our outdoor time to a quick walk to Pita Cafe, and spent the rest of our evening indoors doing what we do best: watching bad TV.

We started out small - an episode of "The Hills" that made our brains shrink just a little. I suggested we continue on and watch the newest "The City," but OnDemand doesn't carry "The City" (where's the love, Comcast?) so we had to seek alternative forms of entertainment from the OnDemand. There were no new Kardashian hijinks to watch, and then suddenly we realized that we had completely neglected the Lifetime section of the OnDemand! And Lifetime takes the cake in bad TV.

We decided that Amish Grace, despite its lulz-worthy title, was too depressing to watch during our fun night in. I had already seen "Deadly Honeymoon" (whatever, okay!) so our decision was easy: "Homecoming," starring Mischa Barton. We didn't read the description too closely. The name "Mischa Barton" and something about a "jealous ex-girlfriend taking drastic action" sounded like a 90-degree day dream come true.

MORE LIKE A NIGHTMARE COME TRUE.

"Homecoming" is a 2009 Lifetime Original Movie directed by Morgan J. Freeman (ha ha, the same Fake Morgan Freeman who directs "16 and Preg!") who, let's get real for a second, looks like this:

It is about Mike, a nice white boy from some Podunk town allegedly in the middle of Pennsylvania, who has gone off to Northwestern University on some sort of football scholarship, and has met a nice girlfriend named Elizabeth. It is homecoming weekend back in Mike's town and he has decided to bring Elizabeth home with him to meet his parents. As Mariam pointed out, homecoming usually occurs in September or October, and we are led to believe that this is Mike's freshman year of college. So Mike and Elizabeth have developed a really serious, adult relationship since graduating from high school a few months ago? Anyway. That's not actually how the movie begins. The movie opens with a crying, boozed up, cigarette-smoking Mischa Barton driving down a dark country road with the radio playing until we see a girl waving her arms in distress from the side of the road until she gets hit by the car being driven by Mischa Barton.

Good old Lifetime takes us back, though, back to when Mike and Elizabeth arrive in Mike's town and meet Mischa's character ("Shelby") at the bowling alley she apparently owns. Shelby has been telling everyone how excited she is to see Mike again, and it becomes clear that Shelby has lost her mind and thinks that she and Mike are still dating. When Mike reminds Shelby that this is not the case, she puts on a happy face and gets Elizabeth drunk off tequila shots while talking about how much they both love this Mike person, who is really nothing special apart from his shiny hair. Poor Elizabeth is so mortified to be drunk when she is supposed to meet Mike's parents that she asks Mike to take her to a motel so she can stay there for the night, alone, and then meet up with him in the morning. Okay, so WHO DOES THAT? Mike's dumb ass police friend takes Elizabeth to the motel and drives off before Elizabeth finds out that there are no rooms left. So homegirl starts walking on down the road, in the middle of the night, in a town that changes back and forth from early autumn to middle-of-winter weather, and she can't get any service on her iPhone! Drama.

And that's when Shelby accidentally (would you believe it!) hits Elizabeth with her car. Miraculously, Elizabeth survives! But she wakes up in Shelby's dead mom's bedroom, where Shelby has wrapped Elizabeth's severely injured foot in some sort of gauze get up, and has also hooked her up to tubes through which she's giving homegirl a morphine drip every other minute. What is a bartender at a bowling alley doing with all this medical equipment, you ask? Well her mother died of "cancer" (we later learned that her daughter poisoned her with some mysterious plants to speed up the death!) not too long ago, and it seems that Shelby just knows how to use all the pills and needles. Elizabeth believes that Shelby is trying to help her, too, until Shelby leaves one day and Elizabeth hobbles downstairs to discover a Mike shrine in the middle of Shelby's house! Shelby teaches Elizabeth a lesson by manually breaking her foot and then later hitting her over the head with a bottle of maple syrup and duct taping the IV to her wrist.

Scary. stuff.

I can't say the rest of the movie is "complicated," but it's certainly not worth explaining any further. Basically, Shelby locks Elizabeth in the house for days while she tries to seduce Mike, who has been led to believe that Elizabeth got so scared of meeting his parents that she hailed a cab all the way back to Illinois. Shelby finally gives Mike a present that Elizabeth had intended for him, and when Mike finds Elizabeth's initials sewn into the jacket, he thinks, "Hm, maybe something is up!" and he goes to Shelby's house to investigate, where Elizabeth - who at this point may or may not be missing a limb - has to bludgeon Shelby with Mike's old football helmet to get her to stop charging at them WITH AN AXE.

I get nightmares as it is. This is not good for me. Thankfully, when it was all over, Mariam said aloud, "I think we need to watch 'Lizzie McGuire' or something to cleanse us of that experience," and lo and behold! "The Lizzie McGuire Movie" happened to be on TV at that exact moment. So I felt better temporarily and until about the second I started typing this. Now I'm terrified again.

I'm moving a week from tomorrow, though! Excitement! I'm going to have my eyes peeled for Mischa Barton until then.