Friday, June 30, 2006

Weekend Update: My Dad is Going to the Nine Inch Nails Concert

Here are some things you might wish to know about me and this weekend*:

  1. I’m off to Indiana to hang with the fam, relax by a lake, watch fireworks Indiana-style, potentially strangle my younger cousins, and possibly hang with Cooter.
  2. I’ll eat a large quantity of food, nearly all of it being not good for me, and rationalize it due to the fact that I’m in Indiana and it is a “holiday weekend.” (Note: this is really no different than any other day for me, be it non-holiday and not in Indiana.)
  3. I may be inspired to go for a run or two** (considering point #2 above and also because I won’t be going near a lap pool).
  4. I’ll be drinking a lot of alcohol, including the yummy Calimocho.
  5. Since two days in Indiana is quite long enough, thank you, I’ll head back to the city Monday for a barbecue or two, more drinking and more fireworks, Chicago-style.
  6. I’ll lay on the grass, looking up at the stars while listening to “ABBA: The Ultimate Tribute Band” as they perform “the story and sounds of one of the greatest rock bands of all times.” Seriously, I can't make this shit up.

Oh, and also, my father is going to the Nine Inch Nails concert this Saturday. Yes, that is correct – my father who is 60-something years old. Yes, that Nine Inch Nails. And no, he is not retarded.

Things I won’t be doing this weekend include: Working, Wearing pants or Listening to Wolfmother.

* I’m of course assuming, incorrectly of course, that you care to know.
** And by “run” I of course am including runs to the convenient store for more bloody mary mix and cheetos.

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Superman Returns: The Cherry Ride (sort-of) Review

As we’ve already established, I grew up a superhero geek and get giddy as a schoolgirl for lots of superhero movies. For me, the first Superman movie, which my Dad took me to on opening day in 1978, is the Gold Standard. To this day, I think it is the best major superhero movie ever made (see my list below).

My expectations for this new movie were already pretty high due to the buzz. Secretly, I was hoping to get just a taste of the same awe and inspiration I got from watching the 1978 film (a tall order since I’m now in my 30s and much more cynical), but in the least I wanted the movie to just not suck in the way that a lot of superhero movies do. I didn’t want or need a movie with a lot of flash and fight scenes or really bad music montages featuring music from Nickelback, Evanescence, Rob Zombie or ay other lame act that appeals to the 14-year old boy from Ohio which is the typical target audience of superhero films.

Superman Returns did not disappoint. It is a complete return to form in that it has the look and feel of the original movie. It is complementary that it doesn’t seem like it was made in 2006; the film has a more timeless feel to it. The acting was great, the action scenes were great, the music was great. Even the opening credits (which used the original John Williams score) gave me chills and made me feel like a kid again.

I won’t bother going into the plot but instead hit on the following points:

  • Brandon Routh: very good in this role; better than I expected. When he is playing Clark Kent, he pretty much looks and acts like Christopher Reeve did. A little wooden at times, but I think that is how the character should be played.
  • Kevin Spacey: very good as Lex. I had heard that he steals the show, but he doesn’t. He plays Luthor a little darker than Gene Hackman did, but with a twinge of humor. But all-in-all, this Lex is a crazy mo-fo and someone you don’t want to mess with.
  • Kate Bosworth: does her best, but fundamentally is miscast as Lois Lane. She is just too young to play a Pulitzer prize winning, tough and experienced journalist. Isn’t she, like, 25 years old? They needed someone older.
  • Parker Posey: like any role she’s ever played, she kicks ass. She is funny, but also shows some surprising depth at times.
  • My only real complaint about the movie is that it hits the breaks in the last 15 minutes and sorta stalls there.
  • Oh, and also, the movie was filmed in Australia and there are a few locales that would be familiar to any Sydneysider, including York St. and a quick shot from one of my favorite Sydney eateries, the Tropicana.
  • PS – that mysterious LA actor I met in New Zealand claiming to be in the movie as a friend of Clark Kent’s: Completely Missing. As Prashant says, maybe he made the cutting room floor and will be on the DVD’s “extra scenes.” Whatever.

To honor the occasion, here is my list of the Top 10 BEST Superhero Movies Ever Made:

  1. Superman
  2. X-Men II
  3. Superman Returns
  4. Spiderman II
  5. Batman Returns
  6. Superman II
  7. Batman
  8. X-Men
  9. Spiderman
  10. X-Men III

Top 10 WORST Superhero Movies Ever Made:

  1. Superman III
  2. Batman and Robin and/or Batman IV (because after #2 they pretty much all run together, don’t they? I remember that Ahhnold was in one of them and that the Batsuit had nipples, and that’s about all I care to remember.)
  3. Superman IV
  4. Elektra
  5. Daredevil
  6. Punisher
  7. Batman III
  8. Fantastic Four
  9. Hellboy
  10. Hulk

Narrowly missing either list: Batman II

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Two Degrees of "Superman Returns"

Tonight Richard and I are off to see the 10pm screening of Superman Returns and not the midnight one. Because somehow waiting in line for a 10pm show seems less pathetic than waiting in line for a midnight one. (Or at least that is what I’m telling myself.) So those of you (about 25% of you who responded to this week’s QOW) who were “embarrassed that I was heading to the midnight show” no longer need to feel that way (riiiight?).

And speaking of the Question of the Week, another 25% of you said you have made out with an extra from the movie. Which is rather alarming to me, because I would have figured I was the only one who did that.
Seriously. I wonder if the same guy I made out with is getting around.

Last year when I was in New Zealand I met an American actor in an Auckland bar who told me he was on his way back to the States after finishing up filming for the Superman movie in Australia. I didn’t believe his story for several reasons: 1) at the time I didn’t know they were filming the next Superman movie; 2) I didn’t believe that they would be filming it in Australia, of all places; and 3) when I asked him who was playing Superman, he said it was an “unknown” American actor (up to that point I thought Nicholas Cage was going to be the next Superman). So essentially I thought this guy was a total bullshitter.

But I pashed on him anyway for the following reasons, all of which are necessary conditions for me to make out with a total stranger: 1) he was cute; 2) he thought I was cute; 3) I was single; 4) I was on vacation; and 5) I was never going to see him again. [
It also helped that I was a bit tipsy as the bartender kept feeding me free rum and Cokes (my favorite kind) because I told him I was from Oregon and he was wearing a shirt with "Oregon" printed on it and he'd never met anyone from Oregon before. But I digress...]

So besides being very excited to see the movie because I am a Superman fan and the movie is getting great reviews, there is a small part of me that will be looking to see if this guy is really in the movie and not just a liar. (He is supposed to be playing “one of Clark Kent’s boyhood friends” -- and before you ask, Yes, this guy was well above legal age. And No, I don't remember his name.)

So I figure if this guy is in the movie, than that makes me, like, two degrees from Bryan Singer of Brandon Routh. It's like I was practically in the movie myself.

Anyway, enough about that. A full review to appear tomorrow.

Monday, June 26, 2006

Intonation Festival: Not Altogether Offensive

This past weekend was the Intonation Festival at Union Park and Richard my brother and I went to check it out. The lineup looked interesting and we figured it would be a good warmup for both Pitchfork (July) and Lollapalooza (August). We skipped Saturday because there weren’t any acts we wanted to see, and Sunday had Bloc Party (the only band I was really interested in) and Richard wanted to see Annie, a singer for Sweden. And besides, I haven’t been to an outdoor music fest in a long time and I wasn’t getting any younger (although as evidenced here, I was given a year of my life back last week so technically I was getting younger. But anyway.)

We had all the makings for a great day: Bob, Kariya, Richard and I were all in good moods, the weather was good (despite the fact that it rained all morning, but at least it wasn’t hot), and we were supposed to meet up with friends once there. As we were getting ready, Richard prepped us by playing a few Annie (the musician we were about to see, not the Broadway musical) songs, and it sounded a little strange. It was sorta Betty Boo meets Cathy Dennis meets Dido (and if that doesn’t sound complimentary, you’re hearing me correctly). Me: “So this is Annie, huh?”
Richard: “Yes.”
Me (trying to act nonchalant): “Do all her songs sound like this?”
Richard: “Pretty much, yes.”
Me (again, trying to sound nonchalant): “Oh.”
Suddenly I’m not so excited to go see Annie, but I figure what the heck, there are lots of other acts playing even if I don’t end up liking her.

We arrive at about 3, ready to go in. Kariya, upon looking at the lineup and hearing the band currently on stage almost instantly decides it isn’t worth the $20 admission price and decides to bail with his friend. Philistine. Bob calls his two friends who are supposed to meet us there and they tell him they’re running late but will be there in about an hour.

A few minutes later, the three of us are in the park and heading for the stage for Annie’s 3:45 performance. She opened with a song called, “Will You Marry Me?” which consisted of her reciting the question over and over and over again to the audience, while pointing at certain people saying “And you. And you. And you.” (Which in her thick Swedish accent sounded like she was signing “Et tu. Et tu. Et tu.”) And now I’m thinking: “Aren’t you supposed to open you show with a really kickass song to get the crowd going?” I feel a headache coming on. But to be fair, Annie was by no means awful, but overall not what I was expecting from an artist performing at Intonation. At various points during her 45 minute performance, I found myself wishing she actually was Betty Boo or Cathy Dennis, because at least then I might have a bit more fun.

Annie is done at about 4:30, which means there’s a good 4+ hours of acts before Bloc Party comes on, and I’m hoping the acts get better as the day goes on (which, by the way, should be the natural law of music fests: bands get better leading up to the headlining act). Bob, Richard and I find a nice spot on the lawn to people watch, drink a beer and listen to the music. To make a long story short, I’m not impressed with the acts that follow over the next several hours which consist of Dokken-style speed and/or goth metal, or gangsta rap. I’m suddenly wishing Annie was back on stage instead of The Sword and Blue Cheer.

Bob’s friends call to say they’re not coming so he takes stock in the afternoon so far and decides to bail. I call Fed & Laura (who are supposed to be coming later for Bloc Party) and suddenly they’re waffling on the whole deal. I don’t have the heart to lie and tell them what a kick-ass time we’re having. Richard and I entertain ourselves by trying to guess what the hell musician Robert Pollard (who is either British, drunk and slurring his words or both) is singing (Did he just say “Doctors and surgeons touch my pink girdle?”).

One of the acts, I guy named Jon Brion (who, as Richard says, “Is not offensive”) goes over his allotted set time, causing all other acts to follow to be 20 minutes late. I look at my watch and calculate that Bloc Party won’t be on until 9:30, which means they’ll finish up at 10:30. And while normally 10:30 would not be considered a late time to finish a concert, when you’ve been sitting there listening to bad music for hours at a time, 10:30 is hella long, like sometime just right before breakfast. At one point, as the crowd is waiting for Bloc Party to come on, a girl standing behind us yells out what we’ve all been thinking: “C’mon already! Some of us have to work tomorrow morning, assholes!”

Dead Prez comes on around 8:30, and they’re yelling to the crowd trying to get everyone into it: “Wassup, Chi-town? Let’s get it together, Chi-town! All you people in the back, come on over here! Let me hear you, Chi-town!” While this is going on I’m standing in line for a port-o-potty, wondering how long they’re going to be on stage, hoping it goes by quickly so Bloc Party can begin and then we can all go home. Dead Prez is still yelling “Chi-town!” at the audience, and a girl standing behind me in line says: “Oh my God, this is going to suck.”

But soon enough Bloc Party does come on stage, and they give a really great performance, and the crowd is friendly and fun and really into it, and you think: “I could be in worse places on a Sunday night.” And it is all pretty much mostly worth it. What else was I going to do on a Sunday anyway – at least today I got to hang out outside with my brother and Richard, drink a beer and listen to music. And that my friends was Intonation Festival 2006.

Overall Rating:

  • Lineup: 5 (if no Bloc Party: 3). I’m probably being a bit generous here but I owe it to the novelty of it all, because even crappy bands sound OK if you’re outside sitting on the cool grass with friends and a few beers.
  • Facilities: 8. Union Park was nice, within walking distance from the condo; plenty of grassy areas to lay down on; well-placed port-o-potties with a short lines.
  • Extras: 7. Beer – and good beer: Goose Island – was only $4; volunteers were friendly; spectators were friendly and happy; weather was pretty nice; interesting booths and a great poster and clothing tent.

UPDATE: I have been informed that Annie was not singing, "... And you. And you. And you.” Rather, she was signing, "...I do. I do. I do." Cherry Ride regrets the error, especially because in light of this change, the song would have been so much more enjoyable.

Friday, June 23, 2006

Why Me?

Is there a pheromone that only attracts beggars, crazy people and street solicitors? If the answer is Yes, then I secrete it. What is it about me that will make one of these people single me out on a crowded street to ask for my time and/or money? It happens to me always.

Today: walking down the sidewalk in a crowd of 4 other people - all of us roughly the same height, body type, ethnicity, dress and age [in other words, very similar and indistinguishable in almost every way] -- and a street beggar decides that of the 5 of us, he's going to stop ME to ask for money.

Oddly, this same pheremone that makes me so detectable to the unwashed and unwanted on street corners makes me virtually invisible at parties, bars and other social situations in which being noticable would be considered "a good thing" or a "boost to self esteem."

Thursday, June 22, 2006

When Searching Along That Thing Called "The Information Superhighway"...

... My blog comes up near the top of the pile if you’re Googling any of the following:

  • “sweet cherry ride” (or most variations of “cherry ride” for obvious reasons)
  • “The Stills” on Google blog serach
  • “dorito godzilla ad cast”
  • “cancel blue mountain membership from 2 years ago”
  • “pimm my ride” [not to be confused with 'pimp my ride']
  • “Australian boyfriend Richard cherry”

My blog also comes up if you're on Technorati searching “intonation chicago.” Or if you're on MSN Search looking for “Cherry Rearview Mirror Cover.”

Go ahead, try for yourself.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Summer of RAWK

I think Chicago is one of the best cities on the planet for music festivals, and I think this summer is no exception. Last week Richard and I bought tickets for Intonation, Pitchfork Music Festival, and the mother of all US music fests Lollapalooza.

So that means I can potentially see: Andrew Bird, Aqualung, Ben Kweller, Bloc Party, Broken Social Scene, Calexico, Death Cab for Cutie, The Editors, The Flaming Lips, Gnarls Barkley, Hard-Fi, The Futureheads, Iron & Wine, Kanye West, Matisyahu, Mission of Burma, Nada Surf, The New Pornographers, Nickel Creek, Of Montreal, Panic! At The Disco, The Pharmacists, Ryan Adams, The Secret Machines, The Shins, The Stills, Thievery Corp., Ted Leo, The Walkmen, Wilco, and Yo La Tengo -- all in the next 2 months. Dude, it's gonna be awesome.

I won't be seeing Wolfmother, though because they suck.

Of course it also means that I'll be living on soup for the next two weeks and postponing any plans to visit friends in DC, Portland and/or London this summer.

It also means there will likely be plenty of blog entries complaining about: annoying crowds; sun poisoning/extreme heat/rain; egregiously bad port-o-potties and their bi-products; the stupidity of security and/or volunteers; Bud Light/Miller Light and/or Old Style and why they suck; and health conditions at outdoor music festivals.

So really it is a win/win for me as attendee and YOU as loyal readers*

* all 5 of you

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Top 10 Things I Learned This Weekend:

  1. My grandma’s middle name is Lucille. (Or at least that’s what she claims – she was drinking vodka gimlets when she told me this.)
  2. Believe the hype: those Wisconsin people know their dairy. Cheese from Wisconsin is better than from other places.
  3. There’s nothing worse than a snobby American Apparel worker. Dude: you work at American Apparel. Yes, I understand that your clothes are made here in the US, and that you support a better business model – I fully support that. But you’re still selling neon pink unitards and tube socks. In less than a decade your store will be the butt of every “Remember the 2000’s” joke. American Apparel is the “Coca Cola Clothing” of the millennium. (Remember Coca-Cola clothing? My point exactly.)
  4. The BellRays as perhaps the best live band I’ve seen. Ever. No joke.
  5. Those ear and nose hair trimmer-thingys are not as common as you might think. You can’t just walk into a CVS or Walgreens or Osco or even K-Mart thinking you can find one. Trust me, I’ve tried.
  6. Lake Geneva (Wisconsin) is to Chicago as the Hamptons are to New York. (Granted in a C+, middle-shelf, Midwest kind of way.)
  7. A margarita is often a good idea. A margarita with “just a touch” of Sour Apple-flavored Pucker because there simply isn’t enough alcohol in a margarita is more often than not probably not such a good idea.
  8. Drinking from 4:30 in the afternoon to 2:30 in the morning: Hella Expensive. Taking photos of me pretending to be passed out in the aisle at 7-11 at 2:30 in the morning because I’ve been drinking since 4:30 in the afternoon and thought it would be funny: Priceless. (Note, as you would suspect, the photos aren’t nearly as funny when you’re sober the next day.)
  9. Lots of people don’t know the difference between an English accent and Australian one. Or rather: you can talk in an English accent, tell people you’re Australian and they’ll believe you. (Or more likely: maybe people can tell the difference and they’re just humoring you because it is 2:30 in the morning and you’re drunk.)
  10. People are nicer to you and will take a photo with you if they think you’re Australian. People who wouldn’t give you the time of day normally (like a gang of kids in a parking lot or a clerk at 7-11) will drop everything if you say: “I’m from Australia so could I get a photo with you?”

Photos from Points #8 and #10 coming soon...

Sunday, June 18, 2006

Yet Another Rant About Starbucks

My tirades about Starbucks (or things that happen there) are well documented (see here, here, and here).

The issue is this: I don't even drink coffee on a regular basis, yet it seems almost every time I'm there something is happening that pisses me off. Do strange things happen there everyday (and therefore regular, daily patrons are used to it and don't seem to mind?) or just when I'm there?

Today's beef(s) isn't really a big deal, but since it is Saturday and I have a minute, I feel the need to document it:

  1. Clueless lady in line: don't decide after your order to start fishing for change from your purse. You do this all the time! You should have your money ready. You have been in line for four minutes and the prices are clearly labeled right on the huge menu behind the counter. Its not like the cashier suddenly sprung some wacky new price at you at the last second. I don't care that it is Saturday morning. I am waiting in line behind you and I got shit to do.
  2. Starbucks management: do you know what might be helpful? Put up one of those screens that give the status of people's orders so they can see that the drink is being made. It would save everybody a lot of hassles - baristas would stop getting annoying questions like, "Is there a venti vanilla latte back there somewhere?" and customers would stop wondering if their drinks were forgotten. Because when I order a tall iced coffee and I'm standing there waiting a few minutes for it while lots of people who were behind me in line are getting their drinks made before mine shows up, I'm gonna get a little agitated and ask the barista if there's a chance my simple order was forgotten. If you had some kind of screen, I could see that No, my drink was not forgotten, but instead your barista decided to take a break from finishing it to go throw away a few boxes instead.

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Bite Me, Madge

Madonna is in town, tonight performing the second of her four shows. Yes, Richard and I wanted to go, but I got stingy and didn't want to pay the steep ticket price for very few remaining seats.

Plus, I somehow thought I would magically get free tickets. I figured I'd win some kind of radio giveaway or the Time Out Chicago contest. Or that I'd befriend someone "in the industry" who would happen to have extra free tickets. Or that I'd be walking down the sidewalk, look down, and two tickets would be just waiting for me to pick them up.

So now that she's here I'm a bit jealous, but trying to make myself feel better through these justifications:

  1. All the good seats were snatched up waaay before you could get your act together, and:
  2. All the crappy seats are outrageously expensive.
  3. Because she's a raging bitch and things have to be done her way, she's turned off the air conditioning at the United Center, and I would have been sweaty and miserable.
  4. This from the review in the Trib: "Nothing in Madonna's world, at least on stage, is less than expertly managed. And it gave most of the show the air of a somewhat joyless Big Production; like being taken for a ride by a ritzy escort service." -- and lord know I would hate to be taken for a ride by an ritzy escort service! (PS the rest of the review was favorable, but nevermind that.)
  5. That $600 would be better spent on something else.
  6. I've seen Madonna in concert before, so isn't it time I stopped being selfish and let others see her?
  7. Last August I danced all night at Madonna-Rama in DC, watching her on a big screen and this would have pretty much been the same thing, so really why waste the time and money?

So when you put all this together, my life is better off having not seen Madonna this time around. Yeah, that's it.

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

New Look

Thanks to my friend Kevin, there's a new look to the Cherry Ride.
I will likely make some more template changes and tweak some other stuff in the next few days too.
Life is good...

Monday, June 12, 2006

I Don't Know How Old I Am (Or: Proof that I am an Idiot: Pt. XXIII)

I was going to write a long post about my birthday weekend (which was fine, nice and low-key) and all the things I did (ate too much, watched a couple movies, put up some shelves in the bedroom, did NOT go workout) but instead I'll boil it down to the following incidents, which underscore that I DON'T ACTUALLY KNOW HOW OLD I AM (or rather, How easily I can be tricked into thinking I am a particular age when in actuality I am something different.)

(But before I begin the following caveat: I don't really think too often about how old I am. My age doesn't bother me; I don't obsess about it; and at any given time I'd have to stop and think about what my actual age is. Now that we've established these caveats, let's move forward):

  • #1. – Yesterday, in the condo: My brother and Kari buy me a birthday cake and the two of them, along with Richard, bring it out to me after dinner and sing "Happy Birthday." I noticed that the cake has two candles for "38." I immediately think this is odd because I'm not 38, I'm 37. So I say, "I think we need to put this cake in the freezer for a year because I'm 37 today, not 38." After a lengthy discussion between the four of us pertaining to my brothers age, the age difference between us, some wizardry I can only describe as “new math” the three of them have me convinced that I am a moron who doesn’t know how to add correctly and figure out his age, and that I am really ONE WHOLE YEAR older than I thought I was. And while I feel I took the news rather well, I was sorta shocked that I’d been going around all this time thinking I was turning 37. How could I be off by a whole year?
  • #2. – Yesterday, lying in bed staring at the ceiling: Richard asks me if everything is OK, if it bothers me that I’m 38. I say, “It isn’t the fact that I’m now 38 that bothers me; it is the fact that all day I’d been walking around thinking I was a year younger than I really am. How did this happen?” I think back to my birthday last year -- was I going around saying I was 36 when I was really 37? While I remember it (stalking Robbie Williams on Old Bond St. with my friend Sean, party at my friend Kate's flat in London, lots of Pimm's, a birthday present involving a coffee cup with a photo of a guy at the beach who's shorts disappear when the mug gets hot) details are fuzzy as to what age was discussed.
  • #3. – This morning, at work: Talking to my mom on the phone, relaying the story of what an idiot I am because I’m not 37, I’m 38. We both laugh.
  • #4. – This morning, at work: My friend Phillip emails me, asking how my birthday went. I reply back saying it was fine, but in typical Will fashion, all day I thought I was 37 when in fact I didn’t realize until the evening that I was actually 38. He replies back with: “Are you smoking?? You were born in 1969 so that makes you 37. You’re 37, not 38.”
  • #5. – This morning, at work: I have a complete, though temporary, mental and existential breakdown. “How old am I, God?” I ask myself, “Seriously? How old am I? I ask you because apparently neither I, my brother nor my own mother know.” After some additional calculations it is determined that I am really, truly, seriously 37 years old. I am thinking about getting it tattooed to my palm.

How is it that a reasonably intelligent, successful person can walk around for approximately 13 hours not knowing how old he is?

Friday, June 09, 2006

Summer To Do List

The results of this week’s Question of the Week are in, and glad to see that the voters are consistent above all else.

  • When asked what you’ll be doing this summer, first place was a tie between “Drink lots” and perennial favorite “Popozao!” (It seems that whenever offered as an option, whether it be to the question “What should be my personal motto for 2006?” or even “Favorite way to celebrate Easter” Popozao! always wins. Always.) So the Cherry Ride readers love them some Drink and some Popozao.
  • In close second place was “Put ‘em on the glass” (which I was glad to see because, personally, I don’t think enough people do these days) followed by “Free ball” (this surprised me) followed by a tie for 4th place between “Light that sticky-icky” and “Get the band back together.”
  • Sadly for Skynyrd, only one of you is planning a trip out to Scranton.

Pathetic Redux

I have a birthday coming up soon, and more than anything else (more than a new digital camera, a new iPod, a new laptop computer, tickets to London, tickets to Sydney, the will to get out of bed early every morning to swim/go to the gym/run/get back in shape -- all of which I want, btw) – what I really want for my birthday is: a stack of peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, nacho cheese Doritos, a Coke, a homemade Betty Crocker yellow cake with chocolate icing and colored sprinkles, a tall cold glass of milk to go along with the cake, and cable TV. Oh, and a quiet room with a nice comfortable couch with a lock on the door so that I can watch the cable TV and scarf down as much cake and PB&J sandwiches as I’d like and not have anyone bother me with comments like, “Man – that’s a hell of a lot of food you’re putting down your gullet.” or questions like, “Are you really just going to sit there all day and eat junk food and watch TV?”

Seriously, that is what I want for my birthday.

And before any of you write me back to say, “Wow, that’s kinda pathetic.” Save your keystrokes. I know it is pathetic – we’ve already established how pathetic I am.

Wednesday, June 07, 2006


If you've ever lost or misplaced a cell phone - leaving it in a cab, for example (which I have done before as did these people) - and never saw it again (which also happened to me), even though it would be really easy for the person who found it to contact you, then you'll find this account very satisfying.

Basically, it is the story of a person who left her Sidekick in a cab where it was found by someone else (photo below) who not only refused to give it back once she was found out (in a really stupid way), but also made insults and physical threats to the owner trying to get it back. So now, below girl's name, photos, AOL address and MySpace URL are getting dragged around the internet (rightfully so, in my opinion). Revenge can be so sweet.

A friend emailed this to me, and now I'm doing my part to spread the news (and yes, this story seems to be spreading). Rather entertaining read if you have 3 minutes.
Look at me - I'm so pretty (and a complete waste of carbon material).

Tuesday, June 06, 2006


  • Purely hypothetical: Is there anything more embarrassing than when you go to use a public toilet in a place like, say, the Starbucks at North Ave. and Wells (the busiest Starbucks in Chicago) and you think you lock the door behind you but you really don't and then someone opens the door while you're in there, and not only does the person that opened the door see you doing your business, but so does the crowd of about 9 people standing there because the bathroom door is right next to the drink waiting area? Yeah, I don't think I'll be showing my face there ever again. I mean, I wouldn't show my face if that actually happened to me, that is. Because it didn't. Because things like that never happen to me.
  • I joined my friend Debbie's campaign to support the Dixie Chicks, so I bought their new album. And damn if it isn't really great. I'm not a fan of the "high class hooker" look they're sporting for the cover, but I dare anyone to tell me their song "The Long Way Around" isn't one of the catchiest songs you'll hear this year. (Yes, that means you, Ryan, you Wolfmother poseur freak.) It is a perfect summer album, especially for those weekends at the 'rents lake house in Plymouth, Indiana (where the below photo was taken, which, in my opinion, pretty much sums up life in Plymouth, Indiana -- only 90 minutes from Chicago yet so very far away in every other way).
Indeed, you never forget your 21st Cooter.

Satan List

6 Things I would do today if I was a Satanist:

  1. eat a baby while bathing in goat blood. Scratch that - eat two (screw Atkins!)
  2. make out in a back alley with Celine Dion.
  3. get pregnant with Celine Dion's baby
  4. change my name to "Eternal Purveyor of Cataclysmic Doom and Nightmarish Darkness" (or if already taken, maybe "Cecil").
  5. get hair done, wear something pretty, watch a few episodes of "Two and a Half Men" on Tivo while waiting for the Rapture of the Beast (which should happen at about 9:22 pm central time)
  6. send an e-card to all my favorite Satan's Minions.

Friday, June 02, 2006

I try not to watch too much TV and usually I do a good job of it, but last night I turned it on and was reminded exactly why TV sucks. Or rather, why commercials suck:

  • Why is Celine Dion appearing on a "very special 90-minute season finale" of Deal or No Deal? Is this supposed to make anyone want to watch the show? And is Celine Dion even still really alive?
  • Why is Doritos doing commercials featuring Godzilla? Did I step into a time warp to about 1998 when that movie came out and sucked ass? Why on earth would anybody think doing an ad with Godzilla would be cool? Next, maybe Oreo can do an ad with Inspector Gadget.

Oh, and in other news, Wolfmother still sucks. (Sorry Ryan, it is true.)

Thursday, June 01, 2006

Things My Boyfriend Has Said To Me That Were Meant As Compliments...

...but because he's Australian didn't quite turn out that way:

  1. Geezer *
  2. You're a Spunk Rat**
  3. You're a Foxy Moron***
  4. You're the Dog's Balls****

* I'm in my 30s but that doesn't make me old.

** I can't imagine a situation where calling someone a dirty diseased rodent could possibly be interpreted as a term of endearment. And in my experience, "spunk" has a totally different meaning than what it does Down Under.

*** I came to find out soon after that "foxy moron" is a line from Kath and Kim. But having never seen the show up to that point, when one sees the word "moron" (irrespective of the adjective next to it) texted to your phone completely out of the blue, one's heart doesn't usually fill with warmth.

**** I'm still scratching my head over this one. I understand every country has its own slangs and idioms, but how the fuck could this be considered a complement??

Oh, and he's also called me "asshole" and "bastard." But just like here in the States, those weren't meant as compliments.