Change I Refuse To Believe In

I couldn't be more thankful to see the season finale of The City air last night. Despite the show's value as a treasure trove of upbeat shopping tunes (which I regularly download to add to the Peacock Boutique master playlist), I suspect the producers' choice of Aussie model/renegade Jay Lyon as Whitney's boyfriend has been nothing more than a marketing gimmick designed to subliminally encourage viewers to eat at Outback Steakhouse. Listen closely when Jay speaks and you'll hear for yourself:

Jay: "I told you, Whit, I don't even know that girl. I swear I didn't take her home cheese fries cheese fries cheese fries last night.
Whit: But Jay, you were wasted.
Jay: I only had seven shots alice springs chicken oozy cheese cheese, I swear.
Whitney (balefully): "But Jay."
Jay: "Why're you always yelling at me, Whit? Deep fried bloomin' onion mmm mmm good. Look, if you can't trust me, I just don't know if this relationship can work.

Lord, what I wouldn't do for some shrimp on the barbie.

Meanwhile, a sticker on my most recent bag of Baked Lay's has alerted me that the chip brand will soon be sporting a new look. That's just great. I'll never find them in the snack aisle, and if I ever do bring a bag into my apartment I'll be confused every time I see them on the kitchen counter. Obviously there are Frito-Lay executives who are unaware of my fear of change and the fact that I've already had enough for one year. Between this, the renaming of the Sears Tower (prompting all my Facebook friends to indulge in "What you talkin' bout, Willis?" status updates), the privatizing of Chicago parking meters and an upcoming overhaul of the Chipotle logo, my life has become nearly unrecognizable.

P.S. There are two Quotes of the Week. One goes to Jeff, and one to me. What? It's my blog.

While traversing a sidewalk in Washington Park and mapping a route to the Museum of Science and Industry via iPhone:
Jeff: I think we passed the bus stop.
Me: It's right behind us.
Jeff: Where?
Me: That blue sign, see?
Jeff: There? We can't stand there. Too ugly.

Over dinner at Pingpong:
Jeff: Kelli, remember when you used to love those Babysitter's Club books? You had every one lined up in a row.
Kelli: I loved the horse books, too.
Me: I watched the Babysitter's Club movie on OnDemand last week. I used to be a Babysitter's Club of one.
Jeff: Emma, you babysat?
Me: Oh yes, Lake Forest was a babysitting gold mine back in the day. I used babysit the shit out of that neighborhood.

A Ghost Story, Ending TBD

Yesterday I was at lunch with someone who said he hadn't seen a certain movie because, he reasoned, "Who needs a ghost story? Isn't life scary enough these days?" I concur. Even movies with titles like Confessions of a Shopaholic are enough to scare my pants off in this economy, and with so many hypothetical axes being slung every which way, the last thing I'm trying to get into is more gore.

Still, I can't help but create a little suspense in my head once in a while, especially when the weather calls for it, and especially when I've been churning out a feature story in utter silence for days on end. And so, when I'd typed the last word of said story yesterday afternoon (in case you're wondering, the word was "here"), I stood up, slipped on my tennis shoes, and exited the premises. It was 5:51pm and a tad late for a walk, but that's what Daylight Savings Time is for, right? It was also drizzling rather seriously, but by the time I'd realized it the front door had closed behind me and it was Too Late to Turn Back.

Dodging sludgy puddles and peering through the fog on the lakefront path, I beheld the enshrouded Chicago skyline. I passed beneath the dim orange glow of an endless row of streetlights. I outpaced the rush-hour creep of Lake Shore Drive. I made my way along the curve of a narrow concrete pier that dead-ends about a quarter of a mile out into the water, where I determined to touch the graffitied steel lattice of a lookout station before retracing my steps. It was a curiously warm evening, but an empty chill rose from either side of the walkway; below, winter's slow-melting swaths of chunked-up ice floated in ringed patterns like crop circles, rolling heavily atop the waves. It was, in other words, an Eerie and Unsafe situation (sorry, Mom!).

As far as I knew I was the only human soul on the pier, but when I turned I found myself walking toward a man dressed in head-to-toe black (workout wear, mind you). He was tall, gym-rat burly, and despite his stony expression, clearly be-bopping to something effervescent on his iPod. We inched closer, and I held my head as high and level as possible, hoping to exude an ass-whuping air of defiance. My hair, unrestrained by any ponytail-holding device, swirled about my face in what I imagined to be an extremely mermaid-esque arrangement. "That man could kill me right now if he wanted to," I thought. "One hard shove, and I'd be a goner." (See above: My possible fate.) I became acutely aware of those undulating ice circles, one of which I might disappear into like a basketball swishing through a hoop. Eye contact was established, and the man and I passed without incident (obviously, as I am still here to spin this heart-stopping tale).

Moments later, the Alicia Keys song "Superwoman" began piping through my headphones, and my mind turned from dark scenarios involving hulking powerwalkers to the daily business of pep-talking myself about my future career. "You will once again be a valuable asset to some company, some day," I preached heartily. "Yes you can. Yes you will." I even sang along a little, since no one was around.

Closer to home and now in full darkness, I waited to cross the street with a group of sensibly accessorized office workers (umbrellas, galoshes) who'd just filed off the 151 bus. They'd stayed late at their desks, no doubt, to prove their usefulness. At a lull in traffic we moved forward in a pack, and for a block I pretended I was one of them. You know, just for karma's sake.

When the Clouds Align, At Last

When Beyoncé sang Etta James' "At Last" to Barack and Michelle at the Neighborhood Ball on inauguration night, it was arguably one of the loveliest moments ever to play out for an audience of billions. Honestly, I could YouTube that shit all day. When the same song plays during the black-and-white scene in Pleasantville where they drive down Lover's Lane while floating cherry blossoms create a sudden shower of blush pink, a similar fairy-tale effect is achieved. But lately, when Etta's silky first notes of this timeless tune announce the beginning of a new Hoover vacuum cleaner commercial, I'm forced to close my eyes, sing "LA LA LA" at top volume and change the channel before another strain reaches my ears. Hoover: As much as I respect your vast vacuum empire and enjoy the sheer dirt-busting power of my Wind Tunnel Complete (it certainly does suck), you're ruining it for me! Please, make up an original jingle about bagless debris storage or something.

In other news, I thought Bachelor Jason made quite the revealing slip last night when he said: "When I'm with Melissa, it's like everything just falls right into place. It's like when all the clouds align. She's such a fun and amazing and beautiful girl." If he were really in love with her, don't you think he would have said stars instead of clouds? Mark my words, Melissa will not be the winner of a product-placed diamond ring and soon-to-be-called-off engagement when the finale airs next week. But if she's lucky, she might get one more run-hug-twirl, Jason's best and signature move.
























And now, please allow me to present today's Match Moment! Is it mean if I continue to feature cut-and-pastes from my favorite Match men on this blog? Come on, you know you like it. And so many clouds are aligning these days that I think we could all use the entertainment. So, here you go. Real uncensored romance, unleashed:

PRINCE CHARMING #1: Don't sweat the small stuff I always say! Tommarow's another day! Oops. I'm pretty much of a guy that when life slams me down I always stand up, dust myself off and go on!! Shit happens!!!! Get up and stand tall I always say!!! My match should be able to fish with no help if you know what that means. Camper also is great, but I know when a lady has to be a lady. I enjoy going out for dinner but the candle light thing works for me also! Love to snuggle an spoon!! I love snowy nights infront of the fire, and those rainy Sunday's sitt'n watchin the games, huge bonus!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Huge Bears fan and Cubs fan you pick the game I have tickets for both!

PC #2: A Ray Of Sunshine.....And A Lot Of Laughs!!!!! If you are looking for a lot of fun and a bunch of laughs and can handle a great looking, fun guy! Look no further! I am looking for a girl who can be just a blast to hang out with. Someone I can look over and can't help but think "damn she is hot". I want a woman whose smile catches my eye from across a room and makes the heart flutter. A woman who smells intoxicating and I can't help but whisper "let's leave this party now!" Simple guy who loves to be active-sports-playing them...coaching them...watching them...loves the sun-why am I here in mid Feb??? Love to cook-hate doin the dishes...I am old scool romntic but why can't I have it all?!

PC #3 (accompanied by 14 shirtless self-portraits featuring a variety of silver and wood-bead necklaces): Well I'm 5 10 185lbs, . I'm 100% italian, STRAIGHT male, i have 11 piercings & 5 tats, im outgoing, spontanious, silly and fun to be around because I'm still a kid at heart. I'm very blunt too, i dont sugar coat things, I say it like it is! I'm professional with a bad boy side to me which always helps. I always get my way if I want it that bad. I love to work out, love my music (electro house, hardstyle, vocal trance, metal ) , go clubbing, beaches when its nice out, anything that can keep my interest.

Most of my friends are married engaged or work on the time that i have off so it's almost like I'm stuck in alot which sucks.

25 Things, Random or Not

So, is everyone aware of this 25 Random Things About Me chain letter that's taken hold of Facebook and choked the site's entire population in its irresistible boa death grip? Well. When I first saw it I rolled my eyes several times in a row. Like millions of users, I've been "tagged" in the 25 Random Things note nearly 1,276 times. I've always stoically resisted the urge to respond. Anyone who hasn't already been exposed to enough info about A.R.D. via Facebook status updates, MySpace golden oldies, blogs, Google searches, texts, e-mails, contributer bios, first-person essays, actual face-to-face conversation, etc., clearly has not been doing his/her research. Plus, an internet expert on the Today Show last week smirked while calling the list "the epitome of modern-day vanity," therefore making anyone who falls into its trap the automatic World's Biggest Dumbass.

But. When used as a procrastination tool, the 25 Random Things can be highly effective. Please don't disown me for doing this:

1. I'm considering full-on bangs, or maybe parting my hair in the middle.
2. My sister Claire and I are sometimes mean to each other about our eyebrows. The last time she told me mine were getting too thin was on September 22, 2008.
3. There's a jar of mint-infused honey in my kitchen that I don't want to open for some reason.
4. I've never met my current upstairs neighbor in person, but I know via Bob the Landlord that his family owns a popular Chicago shoe store where sensible shoes are sold.
5. When my sister Liv was a sweet little eight-year-old whose hair curled charmingly around her temples, I taught her to point to those curls and say: "Look, I'm horny!"
6. Magic Johnson cried a little when I interviewed him once. I am the next Barbara Walters, surely.
7. Personally, I always cry a little while watching Sweet Home Alabama or The Notebook.
8. And, I need to get over Ye Olde Hometown Sweetheart Love Story. At least, that's what various friends have asserted REPEATEDLY.
9. I keep a plaster cast of my own teeth above my kitchen sink. I got it the day my braces came off, at the ripe old age of 22 (see photo).
10. I know the horse racing industry is not always on the up-and-up, but I love the sound of many hooves thundering by on a dirt track.
11. Every Monday night, my uncle Jack and I exchange close to 58 incredulous texts on the subject of The Bachelor.
12. Favorite pen = Uniball Vision Exact, fine point, in blue.
14. I just skipped the number 13 because after last Friday, I'm feeling superstitious.
15. I've never been a bridesmaid.
16. Today I stood in front of the seal pool at the zoo, willing a seal to swim over to me. When one finally poked its head out of the water and flared its nostrils at me plaintively, I said, "Oh, there you are!" Like we were old friends.
17. The following fortune cookie wisdom is taped to my desk: "You have a slow and unhurried natural rhythm." I'm not sure if that's a compliment, but I like it.
18. I have to write a book. It just seems like the natural progression of things. But will people still be reading books by the time I finish mine?
19. After I park my car some nights, I like walking down the middle of my street in my party heels, in the dark. I consider it part safety measure, part Sex and the City delusion.
20. I am an incredible rapper. You should hear me on Lupe Fiasco's "Kick, Push." (My favorite song of the year.)
21. Also today, I wrote a letter of complaint to Hotmail about their banner ad featuring some girl's stretch-marked belly hanging over her waistband. I'm sick of looking at that.
22. I just sighed deeply.
23. I'm boring myself to death.
24. I have to go watch American Idol now.
25. Adios.

My Un-Funny Valentine

It would appear that I do not have a confirmed Valentine this year, except for McLovin4U, who sent me a wink on Match last night but whom I cannot entertain as a possibility because he's yet another Vegas fanatic. Honestly, I can't wait until my subscription runs out. Whatever, no Valentine is better than last year's a-hole, who sent me an e-card, a couple texts and an arrangement of carnations that arrived at my office after I'd left for the day. He then went off the radar for the remainder of the evening (a time period during which I later learned he took his other girlfriend out to dinner).

This year, I'll be attending someone else's engagement party on V-day, and although I won't be taking a date, I will be getting into the spirit by wearing a rather beautiful pair of red satin shoes with jeweled bows, and that has to count for something. (See right for desktop still life.) They are my new ruby slippers, and if I could break them in enough to tap my heels together three times without wincing in pain, they just might take me somewhere incredible. Somewhere where health insurance is handed out like candy. Somewhere where every lottery ticket is a winner. Somewhere where the temperature at any given moment is 74 degrees and they serve a side of chocolate chips with every meal.

In other news, several things occurred yesterday and the day before:

1. I watched a dried Christmas tree float down the bike lane on Wells Street like a homesick tumbleweed.
2. I went to the dentist for my toothache, which hurts at all times but especially when breeze blows on it. My dentist said she can find nothing amiss and asked if I'm under a lot of stress, then brought up a toothache of mine from several months ago that vanished mysteriously. Ladies and gentlemen, I believe I have been diagnosed with a phantom toothache.
3. I took myself out to breakfast at Nookie's, where I sat near a multi-pierced girl who faintly resembled Angelina Jolie and who carried on a mostly one-sided conversation with her unlikely dining companion, a Nerdy Dude:

Angie Junior: If I can draw really good cartoons, then why shouldn't I, you know?
Nerdy Dude: Seriously.
AJ: And the weird thing about it is, everybody says I look like Angelina Jolie, and everyone says Jeanette looks like Jennifer Aniston, but we don't fight, we're actually the best of friends.
ND: That's so weird.
AJ: Jeanette's a Pisces, so she's really outgoing, which is kind of the opposite of me but not really.
ND: Hmm, interesting.
AJ: I would like to have nice teeth at some point, you know, get some work done on my teeth or maybe get Lasik surgery, even though my mom had complications from it. She couldn't see out of one eye for a long time.
ND: Wow.

P.S. I've loved print media since I was roughly 11 years old, when I first started reading Sassy magazine. (Or, maybe it was a fascination born out of running around Granddaddy's office at the Louisville Courier-Journal as a child and getting black ink on my socks. Or reading my mom's Redbooks while she was in Jazzercise.) Magazines have always been my most reliable bedtime companions, and I can hardly bring myself to throw away my Vanity Fairs even when they weigh 20 pounds and I've read every page. I once thought to myself: I want to write for a magazine. And that's what I did. But last night, I met with CNN's Ali Velshi, who just wrote a book about the recession titled Gimme My Money Back: Your Guide to Beating the Financial Crisis. I knew I was expected to ask him a question, so I said, "Ali, I work in print media. When do you think I might be able to get a new job?" His response: "Get a new career." So, I'm taking suggestions. If you can think of a line of work for which I might be suited, please let me know. And please don't say Waffle House.

See Here: Sassy Water

The next time you come over to my apartment, I'm totally whipping you up a batch of Sassy Water. I just made my second-ever pitcher of it, and it's so refreshing I think everyone should give it a whirl. The only problem is that it's so summery-looking, which is contrary to pretty much everything else. But the chance to offer someone a "glass of sass" is so pleasing that I'm just going to overlook the seasonality thing. Here's the recipe. It's from the Flat Belly Diet, a book my mom and I were recently lured into buying from the end-of-the-aisle discount selection at Target:

8 cups water
1 cucumber, sliced
1 lemon, sliced
1 tsp freshly grated ginger root
12 mint leaves
chill overnight
(see right: Sassy Water reclines upon my desk)

In other news, Black Beauty was towed last Sunday sometime after 3AM, which was the last time I laid eyes on her. Such a thing has NEVER previously occurred. I hated everything about it, from walking outside the next morning to find zero transportation to Graham's birthday brunch, to extracting $180 from the ATM to cover costs, to taking a cab to an underground trailer on Lower Wacker Drive to retrieve her. My friend Jeff accompanied me on that mission, and luckily he was able to find some entertainment:

Jeff (to counter lady at Chicago Central Impoundment trailer): Ahem. Um. Have you ever been on TV before?
Counter Lady: No.
Jeff: Really? You look so familiar.
Counter Lady: Oh, I was on the news one time when they was filming down here.
Jeff: Oh.
Counter Lady: Maybe you're thinking about Jon & Kate Plus Eight. Me and Kate have the exact same haircut.
Jeff (eyeing haircut dubiously): Oh.

As we drove away, Jeff mused, "She said Jon & Kate Plus Eight. But I really thought I saw her on Springer once."

Later that day, I drove by an actual hot dog tent sale at the Vienna Beef factory on Damen Ave. Now that, I thought, is not Flat-Belly-approved.

No Way No How

All week I've been in Louisville. I came down here to go to my sister Claire's Peacock warehouse sale and hang out with my other sister Liv one more time before she flees to Italy for six months. I planned to head back to Chicago five days ago. Then came the ice storm. It was no joke:



So, first some snow happened. Then a lot of ice. Then more snow. I got up at 6:30AM on the first morning of the citywide TOTAL FREAKOUT AND EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN and went into my mom's room to whine:

Me: Mom, I have to get internet access! Right now!
Mom (in sleepy voice): Well, I don't know what to tell you.
Me: I have to go to the coffee shop!
Mom: It's slick out there. You don't have to go anywhere.
Me: I'm leaving. I'll just drive up there. I can make it.
Liv (entering room): What's going on? How are we ever going to get out of here?
Me (panicked): Yeah, we have to get out of here!
Mom: Ya'll need to stop it. I've been up five minutes and you're already stressing me out.

The day went by, and more ice came. Mom, Liv and I watched American Idol that night and then we went to bed. The lights flickered. "Oh no," Liv said down the hall in her room. "It's only a matter of time," I whispered, so quiet no one could hear. At 3:30AM the lights went out for good, and ever since then we've been camping out at my Aunt Jenny and Uncle Mike's house, which is great because they have lightening fast internet access. They also have a dog named Henry who is highly decorative but who has always been a biter. He hangs out in the kitchen most of the time, so if you want a glass of water you have to ask Uncle Mike to get it. Our friend Cecily, a jewelry designer visiting from California, stayed there with us last night, and when she saw the sign on the kitchen door that says, "Beware of dog. Stay out of kitchen," she thought it was a joke. She got a bite.

P.S. The other day when every road was covered in snow and ice and there were downed trees and power lines blocking our progress at every turn, we drove to the hardware store to get some keys made. (The key story is a whole separate situation and I don't think you'd be all that interested.) Anyway, at St. Matthews Hardware, a man asked us if we were looking for sleds.

Man: Lookin' fer sleds?
Us: Nope. We're not sledding. We need keys. Are you sledding?
Man: Aw hell, I ain't goin' sleddin.' No way no how, dammit.

I'm Just Not That Into Them

Not that I'm a member of Match.com or have ever given out my credit card number to meet straight men online, but...is it rude to e-mail a stranger whose profile you've just read after receiving a wink from him and say, "Dude, that's just too many exclamation points?" I mean, is it over the top to comment upon the punctuation of someone with whom you've never actually communicated?

Please review this sample Match.com profile I've created to illustrate my point. It is compiled from actual excerpts, a 100% cut-and-paste job:

MR. EVERYCHITOWNGUY
Go Cubs!

I am looking for a girl who likes to laugh! Hard! I'm a total beachbum!!! I LOVE Vegas and I've been there 27 times since I turned 21! I also love MIAMI!!! I have a medium build and dark hair and dark eyes! I'm a selfish prick! A hot, rich, pampered intellectual!! I am a very good looking successful greek male who lives on the mag mile who enjoys all the finer things in life and am hoping I find a woman who is very attractive clean intellegent and also enjoys all the wonderful things that life has to offer!!!

Well, maybe I added one or two extra exclamations, but you get the gist.

In other word-related news, I learned a new adjective on The Bachelor last night: amazing. Well, I already knew the word since it's been in heavy rotation as the favored expression of mindless enthusiasm for several years, but I discovered it can now be used with even greater frequency than ever before. So many things can be AMAZING. Helicopter rides. Jason's bod. Levels of bitchiness. Plaster busts. Legoland.

Anywho, I really need to concentrate on this historic inauguration now. GOBAMA!

P.S. Last night I dreamed I accidentally ate a little bite of a real goldfish. It was pretty gross. I think it happened because I cooked salmon for dinner, and even though salmon is an undeniably healthful superfood, it's nearly impossible to get that smell out of one's apartment.

Brain Games

I just had the most fascinating conversations with two employees at my gym, Equinox in Lincoln Park. I went there not so much to work out (which of course was an added benefit), but to bask in the presence of actual humanoids. One of the gym employees asked me about my headphones, which gave me a chance to explain that my Ultimate Ears UE-5 Pros were made from casts of my inner ears and provide the most superior sound quality imaginable (and no, they're not hearing aids). I initiated the other conversation at the concession stand:

Me: You know what I wish you guys would get?
Concession stand guy: What?
Me: Those G2 drinks from Gatorade.
Him: Yeah, I think we're getting them.
Me: Only 25 calories per serving!
Him: People have been asking about those.
Me: They're really good.

It was so stimulating! I mean, that's the most words I've exchanged with anyone face-to-face for 48 hours.

I'm spending way too much time kicking it solo in my new capacity as Freelance Writer. I know I need to keep my brain sharp for the moment when the economy leaps to life like a newborn foal and job offers flow toward me in abundance (no pressure, B.H.O.), so here are some activities I plan to start engaging in more frequently:

1. Driving. Chicago's pothole plight works wonders for one's reflexes. Just try driving down Sheridan Road--especially the blocks with defunct streetlights--in the dark, in a blizzard. It's kind of like playing Minesweeper, but with your whole car at stake.
2. Puzzles. I used to love working puzzles, and they provide surprisingly inexpensive entertainment, except I might need to buy a new table for the purpose. Never mind, I forgot about my card table.
3. Cooking. As soon as Bob the Landlord fixes my dishwasher, I'm totally getting back to cooking. When I arrived at my apartment after an outing today, I noticed the place smells like grilled cheese. That's because I've been subsisting almost exclusively on grilled cheese sandwiches...on whole-grain, high-fiber bread, but still.
4. TV. In particular, The Real World: Brooklyn. Finally, a cast whose collective hobbies cannot be summed up in one word: tanning. This season's strangers are so non-hottie-oriented and diverse in their sexual orientations, it promises to be a truly mind-expanding ride.
5. Bubbles. I keep a bottle of bubbles on top of my refrigerator at all times, and sometimes I open the back door and blow a few into the courtyard. I'm not positive it's increasing my brainpower, but it certainly is soothing.

The Case of the Defrosting Steaks

Yesterday there was a box sitting in the front hall of my apartment building which clearly contained dry ice and Omaha Steaks. It was addressed to my downstairs neighbor, Cade, for whom I'm always walking on the outside edges of my feet because I don't want to torture him in the same way my upstairs neighbor tortures me. The box had a notice taped to it: "Contents Extremely Perishable! Freeze Immediately Upon Delivery!" Well, the steaks were still sitting there this morning, so I carried them up and placed them outside my neighbor's door, hoping he'd find them on his way to work. He didn't. My anxiety about those rapidly thawing hunks of meat rose throughout the day to the point that I was going on hourly peek-over-the-rail missions to see if the box was still there. I didn't know if I should, like, knock on his door, or try to intercept him in the back stairwell, or maybe even track down his work number via Bob the Landlord. Eventually, I came up with a plan to bring the steaks into my apartment if they had not moved by 7PM, stow them in my freezer, and compose a note to Cade politely explaning the situation. Promptly at 7:00, I peeked over the rail. Whew. He found them.

So, did everyone catch the season premiere of The Bachelor earlier this week? (Mid-episode text from Tim: "If I see that guy and his son run dramatically towards each other again with their arms spread like hookers' legs, I'll vomit into a box and send it to him.") I hope you at least tuned in for the touching one-hour portion of the show during which each girl was shown individually teetering her way out of a limo, trembling in her satin Caché dress as she approached irresistible single dad Jason (who is surprisingly beardless for someone from Seattle) to share their first precious words. Most of the conversations can be summed up as follows:

Girl: You're beautiful!
Jason: No, you're beautiful!
Girl: You're so beautiful!
Jason: Seriously, you're BEAUTIFUL!
Girl: Cool, see you inside.

I started to get a little sad, watching it. I just wish someone could see into my soul like that.