I Resolve...

I resolve to be a Man About Town singing all the lonely dirges of my youth.

[London at Night]

The Week Ahead

School's out and I've got a short work week and lots of free time on my hands. Sure, I should probably buy some people some Christmas gifts. Maybe volunteer at a homeless shelter or something. Or mistletoeing. But pretty much all I'm looking forward to doing is planting my ass on the sofa and doing this:Seasons I and II. That's some Proper TV, bitches.

PS - I may have a little crush on Charlie, the "volatile loser who lives in filth and displays little ability to cope with day-to-day problems" (according to Wikipedia). Don't judge me.

Actual Comments Made By My Fellow Students in Human Biology Class

To commemorate my last class (and the final exam) tonight, I thought I would share with you a list of actual comments and/or questions made by my classmates during the course of the semester. Believe me when I say I have not altered them in any way. Starting with the second class, I actually began writing these little nuggets down because I couldn't believe the crap I was hearing, and, well, I need something to entertain me during the 2.5 hour class twice a week. Enjoy - I certainly have.

1. (Pointing to a diagram of a human body): "We gotta learn all that for this class? Fuck that. I'm dropping this shit." (As a reminder, this class is called Human Biology, so not sure what this person thought we'd be doing.)
2. "I was told by somebody that if I go on a starvation diet I could actually do damage to my body. Is this true?"
3. "If you were to, like, create a Frankenstein monster, wouldn't the body reject the different body parts because they'd have different genes?"
4. "If somebody were to get liposuction, would the fat cells grow back?"
5. "Is that (type of cell) what causes bladder infections? 'Cuz I got a bladder infection and I don't know why."
6. "Buttered popcorn causes cancer."
7. "Is it true Janet Jackson had one of her ribs removed?"
8. "Wearing large clothing helps prevent Lyme Disease."
9. "If the menstral cycle is 28 days, then what happens during the other 2-3 days?"
10. "What is the best way to refrigerate or freeze the placenta?"
11. "Diarrhea is a diarrhetic."
12. "So I don't need to douche, then?"
13. "I think people who eat meat are disgusting."
14. "Can a 17-pound baby be delivered vaginally?"
15. (In a discussion about the anal cavity): "It's not natural to have something up there, like homosexuals do."

Now that class is over, I guess I will have to find something else to complain about. Until next semester begins, that is.

Open Letter to My Fellow Group Presenters (Part II)

[Above is another photo representation of last week's group project. While ours looked nothing like this, there was definitely some face-hiding in shame, not unlike what is being acted out here. Also, I'm betting this group's presentation was probably more interesting than ours. I'll be the girl on the far right, who seems to be pretending she's not really there, kind of like I was by the time we were done.]

Hello Group.

Yeah, hi. Me again. Last week I gave you some pointers about how to be an effective and contributing member to group presentation project. You know, for the next time. I didn't want to overwhelm you with info so I thought it best to offer just a few tips at once, with the other half to come another time. Like today. Seriously, I do this as a favor to you, so that maybe you won't fucking fail the group you're in next semester. And, like the old couple who took my fucking seat over Thanksgiving, the next person you screw over for an A in class may not be as nice and forgiving as I am. So let's continue, shall we?:

• So public speaking isn’t a strength. No big deal, it isn’t for most of us. We all get nervous. But remember when the teacher told us last month that points would be deducted if we read directly from our notes instead of simply speaking to the class and making eye contact? I’m pretty sure she wasn’t kidding. Again, we discussed this right? And we all said we were comfortable with our material. So for the next time, please for God’s sake DON’T READ DIRECTLY FROM YOUR NOTES FOR THE ENTIRE DURATION OF THE SPEECH.
• If in the middle of our speech we realize we made a mistake, it is often OK to just continue on and not acknowledge to the class that we messed up. Doesn’t look so good for us. Chances are, the class stopped listening to what you were saying about 3 minutes into your seven-minute spiel. They didn’t even notice that you said “Canada” and not “Cuba" (its OK, I totally understand how you could get them confused). Honestly, you could have said “Thousands of new cases in my va-jay-jay” instead of “Thousands of new cases in Cuba” and they probably wouldn’t have caught it. For real: I saw one guy in the class haul out his laptop and check his Facebook while you were talking, for chrissakes.
• Related to the above point, after we do make a mistake and feel some strange need to acknowledge it publically, resist the urge to turn around, look me in the eye and say to me – me! – “Oh. I just messed up.” While I am oddly flattered that you told me as though you thought I could actually do something about your flub, you’d be wrong. Perhaps you thought I’d break into an interpretive dance to somehow distract the class from your mistake? As cool as that might have been, I’m not that spontaneous. Bottom line: If you make a mistake, KEEP IT TO YOURSELF and MOVE ON.

That wasn't so bad, was it?

Good luck with finals!

PS - No, I am still not going to help you. You bitches are still on your own for that one.

I Love My Local Starbucks

I'm sitting at my local Starbucks studying, and my table is (unfortunately) right next to the bathrooms. Not really studying, however, as I'm just not into it. I'm pretty much doing everything but studying - reading blogs, texting Niner about poon, talking to my parents (yeah, I'm that distracted), figuring out a shopping list for Target. I've been here about an hour and have only read about 2 pages. Can someone tell me what the hell "Because homologous chromosomes may possess different alleles for the same traits, and there are many genes on one chromosome, the homologues are usually not identical" means?

And if so, will you take my final exam for me?

Anyway, awhile ago a young woman went into the bathroom. About 10 minutes after that, her boyfriend knocked on the bathroom door and asked what she was doing. In a really loud voice she responded:"I'M TAKING A SHIT, OKAY??" Classy. So very.

15 minutes later she's still not coming out of the bathroom and suddenly there's two cops banging on the door demanding she come out. I ask you: I bet this shit doesn't happen at your local Starbucks, does it?

Now the two cops are questioning both the girl and her boyfriend outside the store. Apparently, there may be some drug usage involved (ya think?).

Open Letter to My Fellow Group Presenters (Part I)

[This photo sorta represents what our group looked like on Tuesday during our group presentation. Except we weren't as organized as these folks were. Nor did we look as excited. Or Asian. I'd like to think of myself as the fat one, third from left, in this scenario.]

Hello Group:

I realize this letter is a little late in coming, since our Group Presentation was on Tuesday and all. But who at that time would have thought it would have turned into such a disaster? - certainly not me.

Considering we've had about 3 weeks to prepare and that we've met a few times to go over our roles, responsibilities and what we would say, I guess I was a little taken aback by how, well, ill-equipped and unprepared we seemed to be. I imagine that the audience may have seen us as "nervous" or "disjointed" or maybe even "a bunch of douche nuggets."

And note that I say we here -- after all, there's no "I" in "team" and all that bullshit, and we're in this together. When one of us does good, we all do good. When one of us can't pronounce certain simple anti-TB drug mediations, because, well, Monday was a particularly good episode of "CSI: Miami" then, well, I guess we all can't pronounce certain anti-TB drug medications, right?

And I know we're all a little busy, particularly now that we have to study especially hard for next week's final (where before Tuesday I was hoping I merely just had to study "all regular-like" - so thanks for that, btw), so I'll make this rather quick. Here's a partial list (I'll send the other one next week) of some things that maybe you could keep in mind next time you are in a position to be a successful, contributing member of a group presentation:

• If you volunteer in advance to be the person responsible for printing 30 copies of the slide deck to use as class handouts, then please God by all-that-is-holy DO IT. Don't show up to class empty-handed saying that you “got too busy at work to print them out" and that "it won't be a big deal anyway." Couple things: Yes, it actually IS A BIG DEAL that we don't have handouts. It makes us look UNPREPARED and gives us a big fat zero on the teacher’s evaluation sheet under the section called – oddly enough - “Handouts.” Secondly, don’t give us that whole “I’m really busy with work” bullshit excuse. What the hell do you think the rest of us do all day? So help me, I’ll shove my weekly “MBD SaaS and Business Intelligence Report” draft right up your ass if you tell me again how busy you are at work.

PS – I actually did spend some time and thought in making the presentation and handouts look pretty. I probably wouldn’t have spent so much time on it had I known that you weren’t going to bother printing them off. Even though we agreed you would. But that’s water under the bridge. Let’s move on.

• Related to point #1, if you are assigned a specific task and find that for whatever reason you cannot do it, it is acceptable and even welcome to PICK UP THE PHONE AND TELL SOMEONE. We know you have a cell phone; we've seen you use it to talk to your friends during lecture (since we're on it: there's something called "indoor voice" btw). I passed about 3 Kinko’s on the way into class Tuesday. I could’ve made some handouts. Not a big deal.
• As you know, we had 12 minutes to give our entire presentation. We discussed this, right? Several times? We also discussed structuring the presentation so that each of us was to speak for about 3 minutes. 3 minutes x 4 people = 12 minutes. So I’m still scratching my head to figure out why some of us spoke for seven minutes. Seven minutes! – that would be more than double the allotted time per person. The only thing I can think of as to why this would have happened would be perhaps you – I mean we - didn’t rehearse ahead of time. So here’s a tip: REHEARSE IN ADVANCE. We might be surprised at what we learn. Like, maybe, “Gee my section of the presentation is waaaaay too long.” Considering we also get points taken off our grade if our presentation goes over the allotted time, this is something we all may want to keep in mind next time.

I’d say that should about cover it for the moment. I've got a few more pearls of wisdom to share, but I'll wait until next week for those, since it might take you a little while to just digest these. Thanks for listening, y’all.

PS - Good luck on the final. And I mean that.

PPS - And No. Sorry, I will not help you study - you bitches are on your own on that one.

Why I Like Chicago in Winter *

So last night leaving class I planned to write about how much my just-completed group presentation sucked (very much so) or some of the things that really bug my about the Christmas season (Zales commercials, people who forgo their Thanksgiving evenings to camp all night in the parking lot of a shopping mall just so they can be first in line for the 4am opening, etc.), when - bam - the city was hit with a beautiful, magnificent snow storm.

Once or twice a year (tops), Chicago gets a snowstorm that isn't nasty or a major inconvenience; it is just pretty and kinda peaceful. Last night was one of those times. I even took the long way home from the train to marvel in it - the big, whispy flakes, the way it drapes every surface in a calming white blanket. I also shoveled the front walk of my apartment building when I got home just so I could spend more time in it (no, I wasn't drunk). It was the kind of snow that reminds you how cool it can be to live in Chicago during the winter.

* Ed. note: This is a companion to the upcoming "Why I Hate Chicago in Winter" posts that are surely on their way over the next few months.

The Window Seat (Or: Why Old People Should Not Be Allowed to Fly)

[This is a visual approximation of the old couple in question. Except mine weren't as attractive or pleasant looking.]

I’m a big fan of the window seat. When travelling alone, I pretty much require it. Everyone knows the middle seat sucks and I don’t like the aisle. I usually book my tickets online and aside from the convenience, online booking is great because you can pick your seats. I always choose the window because I like to sleep on planes, and it is easiest to do in the window seat, and also because when I’m not sleeping, I like to look out the window at the pretty clouds and shit.

Yesterday I board the plane from Portland towards Chicago and I see that there is an old couple sitting in my aisle, and the old lady is sitting in the windows seat. My seat. At this point I could choose one of three options: 1) say nothing and just sit in the available seat, which is the aisle; 2) inform the Biddy that she’s in my seat and demand that she sit in her assigned seat; or 3) point out to the couple that one of them is sitting in the wrong seat, but offer to take the aisle anyway.

In the spirit of educating the couple of their faux-pas so they don’t get into other potentially uncomfortable situations later (people aren’t generally as nice as I am* and next time they may get some belligerent jerk yelling at them), I choose option #3, even though I am tired and want to sleep and everyone knows that trying to sleep in the aisle seat is a losing proposition since you always get clipped by people walking by, and you always have to get out of the seat when the person at the window or middle seat has to use the washroom. Plus, we’ve all seen these situations before where someone is sitting in the wrong seat and the person that calls them on it ends up looking like a big jerk and I didn’t want to be that guy.

What I want to say is, “Excuse me, but this ain’t Southwest Airlines and you can’t just sit anywhere you want – I don’t care how old you are – but all is cool and I’ll take the aisle.” But instead the conversation goes like this:

Me: “Excuse me, I believe you may be sitting in my seat, but I’ll just take the aisle.”
The two of them just look at me and then Biddy says to her husband: “What?”
Me: “I think you are in my seat. But that’s OK – I will just take the aisle.”
One again the two of them look at each other (not me) and she once again asks her husband (again, not me as if I’m not really there): “What?”
Me (directly to the grandma, who has that deer-in-the-headlights look, disturbingly similar to the look the woman who practically ran me over in her car**): “Is that your seat?”
Grandma: “B’idunno.”

In case you weren't aware, “B’idunno” is a substitute for the phrase “I don’t know” and is commonly used by indifferent teenagers. It is rarely spoken by anyone over the age of 22, let alone an old lady. When it became clear that I wasn’t going to get any other answers or response out of the old bird (frankly, I was expecting a “My goodness! I am sorry for sitting in your seat!”), I just settled into the aisle seat and no further words were exchanged.

And of course I tried to sleep during the flight but was continually woken by the banging of the snack cart, fat people walking down the aisle, and the icing on the cake - the old couple next to me having to evacuate their bowels not just once but TWICE during the 4 hour flight. Moving forward, I do believe that I will no longer be nice to old people (that I'm not related to) - they try to kill me or deprive me of much-needed sleep.

* I suppose this point is debatable.
** Just be warned that as time goes on that whole biking incident story is going to get more dramatic – by next month I will be referring to this story as “the time I was almost killed.”

Thanksgiving

The last two years I've used dedicated a Thanksgiving post to all the things that I'm thankful for that year. Which, besides eating my body weight in a variety of carbohydrates is the point of Thanksgiving, right?

This year I am getting out of town early (tomorrow) to Portland to visit friends, hike Forest Park, snowshoe, eat deep-fried turkey and quite possibly hit Mary's Club. Most of my local friends are getting out of town this year, which is cool- the weather here is shitty. Not that Portland will be much better, but I'd rather be in shitty weather near the mountains and ocean than in Chicago.

It has been a tough year for me and some of the people I'm close to, and it's hard to look back and feel good about a lot of it. Don't get me wrong, there is plenty that I'm thankful for (Always Sunny in Philadelphia; Capes, and the people who wear them; Crowded House reunion; The fact that I got off my ass and went back to school) but mostly I'm just going to focus on the fact that all the people in my life are healthy and strong, and that we're alive to experience another Holiday season. I also want to thank all the people I've met- and become friends with- through this blog.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE! PROPER.

Poon-Tastic

I get a(nother) hangover just looking at these pictures.

There was good food. And lots of drinks. A panda. And cape wearing.

I forget - is it a true sign of a successful evening if you end up passed out hugging the toliet bowl? Or is that an unsuccessful evening?

If nothing else, the Twinkie Cake turned out really well.

Twinkie Cake

The Second Coming of Loaf is happening this weekend. On the agenda:

1. Twinkie Cake
2. Tiki Bowl Drinks
3. Interpretive Dance
4. Lots of Drinking

Has anyone made a Twinkie Cake? I'm a little scared.

Mine will look less like this:

And more like this:













Anyone made tiki bowl drinks? I'm less scared of that one, since as long as it has lots of different alcohols and pretty blue, green, pink or orange colors it is bound to be good. Plus, my last foray into mixology was a success. Sort of.

Brain Dead

For the past three months I've been juggling, rather successfully I think, the management between working full-time and going to school. At times it has been a struggle being able to do both but so far it has been OK. Sometimes I've had to run (literally) from my office to class in order to turn in an assignment on time. There was this one instance where I had to miss class due to a big announcement at work (and because of that almost missed out on some needed extra credit), but that was only one time. Also, switching the gears in your brain from work topics like: ERP, SaaS, unified communications and VoIP to school topics like: phagocytes, telophase, osteoclasts and red bone marrow can be a challenge, but still manageable.

That's all changed today. Today I am rather screwed. I have just finished a huge work report (the biggest one of my entire contract) that took many many hours to complete. I tried to finish it this weekend but of course some situations I could control and some that I couldn't kept me from it. I spent much of last week on it. I spent most all of yesterday on it. My alarm went off at 5:05 this morning so I could get up and finish it.

The Good news is that I just turned in my draft and for the most part is that I'm done. The Bad news is that I'm brain dead and useless for the rest of the day.

The Worst news is that now I have to cram 7 hours of studying into the next 5 hours because I have a Bio Exam at 5:30. An exam that I pretty much have not had time to study for since I've been focused on this work report. Fuck.

Yeah, so I guess I should be studying instead of blogging.

Yer Momma: [Cherry]-1 Recken-0

One of the reasons I love Recken is our shared belief that Yer Momma jokes are not only ripe for a comeback, but also appropriate for any occasion. When she and Kate came for a visit a few weeks ago, pretty much every conversation ended with Recken saying, "Yer Momma."

For example, I might share a deep personal revelation like the fact that I'm deeply concerned about the strange mole that's formed on my shoulder, and she'd reply with "Yer Momma."

It was very endearing.

The problem is that when the going gets tough, I'm not sure she's capable of bringing her A Game. Case in point, the following is a text message interaction we had this weekend:

Recken: "These are the best pants you've ever seen." (Ed. note: inside joke)
Me: "Yer momma."
Recken: "Yer momma's so fat she needs her own zip code."
Me: "Yer momma's so fat she heard it was chilly outside she ran and got herself a bowl."
Recken:

As of this writing (a good 24 hours later), still no response from Recken.

I'm Not Going to Make Too Much of a Big Deal About This, But ...

... My prayers have been answered. (Thanks, Classy, for the tip.)

In other news: On my bike ride into the Loop today, I was actually hit/sideswiped by a car. As in, my body actually came into contact with the car. I was riding in the bike lane, and the driver came up next to me and tried to make a right-hand turn, pushing me to the curb.

Luckily she was going slow, but I wasn't. She didn't hear the initial "thud" sound of me coming into contact with her rightside back door, but she did hear the "thud" created as I kicked - hard - at her back bumper.

She stopped the car and I swung around to the drivers side window and the hilarious* conversation that ensued went like this:

Me: "You hit me!"
Her: "...."
Me: "You HIT me. With YOUR CAR!"
Her: "Sorry?"
Me: (Sensing that she did not speak English, I made hand gestures showing her car [left hand] running into me [right hand]): YOU HIT ME WITH YOUR CAR. YOUR CAR HIT ME. ON MY BIKE."
Her: "Oh... Sorry. I sorry."
(At this point a few people on the sidewalk had stopped, but I didn't care if I was making a spectacle - I was fucking pissed.)
Me: "You need to pay attention to where you're going! This here is a bike lane. For bikers!"
Her: "I sorry."

I'm reasonably confident, based on my interaction with her and the general condition of her vehicle, that she didn't have insurance and had something happened, my own insurance would have been picking up the whole fucking tab. This woman made no attempt to ask if I was OK; she was more concerend about trying to get away. Fucking people.

* And by "hilarious" I of course mean "so help me, if I had a knife I'd gut you like a grouper."

Armageddon Day Is Approaching

No sooner have I posted about a return to happier days, then the arrival of news from Google confirming the long-brewing rumors that it is developing the Google Phone.

People are creaming like this is the best news ever. [Well, at least since the Ace of Base reunion news.] This is not good news, people.

Remember in the movie Terminator when they talk about "Judgement Day" and the guy who designs a learning computer that goes online on August 4, 1997, and how this computer begins learning at a geometric rate, and becomes self-aware at 2:14 am on August 29, 1997 and launches nuclear missiles that destroy most of humanity?

Yeah, well take the above paragraph and substitute the word "computer" with Google, and substitute the "August 29, 1997" day with "whatever day the Google phone debuts" and well, there you have it. You may be laughing now, but nobody believes me when I say Google is the Devil and in a decade we'll all have little Google bar codes in our scull so they can (even better than they do already today) keep track of us all.

Better get your Scandanavian pop singer fix in now boys and girls while you still can.

Happy Days Ahead

Remember a time in the not-so-distant past when life was simpler, and pop music offered a cure to all of society's ills?

Me neither. But two recent reunion announcements have me thinking I'm in for some juicy sweet, aurally satisfying and blissful musical moments over the next several months.

Spice Girls Reunion

They've teased us before, but this time it is really happening. New single, new greatest hits album and a reunion tour.

Despite the full page ad in the Chicago Reader (huh?!?) a few weeks ago for it, they will not be coming to the Windy City. I suspect this is largely due to the fact the Girls couldn't locate Chicago on a map (except maybe Mel C, who everyone knows is, like, the best Spice Girl).

Ace of Base Reunion

Apparently, things are so bad for Ace of Base that they've agreed to reunite, tour Russia (is that really such a sound business decision?) and possibly perform Eurovision 2008.

But their bad luck can be my gain - I'm hoping they book some studio time to churn out some more quality songs on par with "Beautiful Life" and "The Sign." PS - this is their official website. Have you ever seen anything so lame?

I guess Aqua is also reuniting, but who gives a shit. Now, if the stars would align to get Hanson and Roxette back together, I'd be set.*

* Wait, you say that neither Hanson nor Roxette have never really broken up? Oh.

Things That Scare Me Today

Happy Halloween, y'all.

Unlike last year's big to-do, this year I'm maintaining a low profile (see above illustration). But I would be remiss if I didn't do something to celebrate one of my favorite holidays, so I bring you the 6 Things That Scare Me:

1. People I don’t even know trying to become my friend on Facebook.
2. People still wearing those “Live Strong” bracelets.
3. Killers who lure victims to their home via fake Craigslist ads. Guess I’ll be buying a TV via the old fashioned way, then.
4. Celine Dion appearing on my Pandora Radio. (If you’re not familiar with Pandora, it is an online radio station where you tell it what bands and songs you like, and it populates your playlist with songs based on your recommendations and a complex algorithm.)
5. Senator Larry Craig, specifically that he is still a Senator.
6. Backfat (specifically mine).

[Cherry] Ride Just Isn't That Into You

I took a few days off, but I'm back. (Thanks for noticing, jerks.)
My reasons for the break quite possibly may include one or more of the below factors:

1. Forgot my log-in password
2. Jesus told me to
3. Sharting emergency
4. Put in a corner (like Baby)
5. Thrilling and electrifying collar poppin'
6. Prolonged and exhilerating trannie vacation
7. Still recovering from tragic and embarrassing (yet completely unsurprising) Cubs loss during playoffs
8. Paul Poon
9. Debilitating shame over my love for Martina McBride
10. Dick Cheney
11. Protesting Oracle’s bid for BEA Systems – take that Larry Ellison!
12. Grueling Harpsichord lesson and competition schedule
13. Arrest and subsequent incarceration for something my lawyer has advised me not to speak of until the lawsuit is settled
14. Nightly, athletic and exhausting visits from a Succubus
15. Hellen Mirren's boobs
16. Extreme headband wearing
17. Gender re-assignment surgery
18. Gender re-assignment surgery gone awry
19. Incapacitating hangovers
20. Just couldn’t be bothered
    

The Underrated List

Last week I edumicated you on all things Overrated, and now it is time to share my list of people, places and things in 2007 that deserve a shout-out/what-what/say heeeeey!

The [Cherry] Ride Underrated List (in alphabetical order):

1. Arnold Palmers (with or without alcohol)
2. Bicycles
3. Capes
4. Cate Blanchett
5. Cellular respiration (close second: Synaptic transmission)
6. Chicago (close second: Boston)
7. Geico commercials (but not so much the Caveman ones)
8. Interpretive dance
9. John Adams
10. Lazy rivers
11. Long Island iced teas (close second: Gin rickeys)
12. Monday nights (close second: Friday mornings)
13. New Zealand
14. Newsweek
15. Skype
16. Sport coats
17. Sunrise
18. Squirrels
19. Trannies
20. VH-1 reality shows

Take Your Rolling Luggage and Shove It

I feel the need to go off on rolling luggage. Not so much the luggage itself (I happen to own a piece), but rather the everyday morons who don't know how to use it properly.

Unless you are: 1) in an airport or train station, or 2) directly travelling to or from an airport or train station -- than there is absolutely no reason why the fuck you should be using one. Every single day I'm walking downtown and every single day I have to trip over, walk around, or generally avoid idiots dragging a piece of rolling luggage behind them.

Take your rolling luggage, check into your fricking tourist hotel, and leave your fucking shit there instead of dragging it carelessly around Michigan Ave., or into the Starbucks, or the Apple store. You and your luggage are in my way.

It would be one thing if these people actually had any amount of self-awareness and realized what a problem their large, luggaged extra appendage was, but most of the time they don't. Some asshole tried to roll his luggage over my foot today as I was sitting down at Borders. Why the fuck are you bringing luggage into the cafe inside Borders? Allow me to attempt to shove your nasty-ass, floral-patterned bag-on-wheels up your rectum.

Yesterday there was a rather large, slow-moving woman in front of me walking in the middle of the sidewalk with one of those little bags with a handle attached to it. It was impossible to get around her, and do you think she noticed? Of course not. Now, this bag of hers was no bigger than a small package, but God forbid she should actually carry her shit in a purse over her shoulder, or in a backpack like every other normal person would; she had to put it into a rolling cart and take up 10 feet of space behind her. She wasn't dressed like she was coming from or getting on a plane, so my guess she was packing her fucking lunch in it.

My issue with all of this is that I seem to be seeing more and more of these rolling luggage packs throughout the city, as though it is now becoming acceptable practice to stop using a purse, briefcase or backpack and instead buy one of these fucking rolling carts to lug your shit around.

The day is coming, and soon, where I am going to go off. Mark my words.

Fall In Boy

I have a few unofficial mottos, one of which is "Fall can't come quickly enough." (Other mottos include, "on the rocks" "it costs how much?" and "Popozao!" but anyway...)

Despite the fact this fact, I was somewhat shocked upon being reminded that Sunday began the first official day of the season. So Happy Fall everyone.

To celebrate, I went out and purchased two winter coats. Why did I buy two winter coats when it is still in the low 90s here in Chicago? It is a complicated answer: 1) when I see something I want, I tend to just buy it; 2) I couldn't decide which of the two I liked better; 3) I was sorta depressed and buying things makes me less depressed (for a little while, until I realized I spent money that I should be saving which then makes me more depressed than when I started).

But the biggest reason why I bought it is due to the fact that our society has marginalized the Fall season and instead has conditioned us into believing that Winter is more important. So really, I blame society.

Bear with me for a moment. This Marginalization of Fall (called MOF) is true everywhere except maybe in New England (where people really know how to celebrate what I consider to be by far the most awesome season). Sure, there's always hype around the new TV season and football, but otherwise this country is all about skipping the months of September, October and November and heading straight into Christmas.

Don't believe me? Think about it: In Chicago, they started advertising tickets for the Nutcracker back in August. Hallmark has been selling Holiday shit since at least Labor Day (I know this because Captain Corky already bought an ornament from there!). Friday in a bookstore I saw an endcap for fucking Christmas cards. Did I mention it was 91 degrees in Chicago on Friday (yes)? And there they were - Christmans cards (I thought about taking a photo because I couldn't believe it myself, but it was too depressing). Christ on a Bike.

Those responsible for MOF (the government, major retailers, consumer goods manufacturers, Santa, and washed-up musical acts who put out "greatest hits" packages during the Holiday Season -- yes, I'm talking to you Matchbox 20 -- are all united in a secret MOF society) would have us believe there are only three seasons - Spring, Summer and Winter - every year. But I'm declaring war.

I'm just saying No to Winter before its time, and you should too.

(Except for the two winter coats I just bought, which are pretty awesome and would probably be sold out if I wait too long. But you get my point.)

The Overrated List

This month's Radar Magazine features their "Hype Report" - a list of the 44 Most Overrated Things. Not a bad list (I agree with their assessments on #4 Brad Pitt, #27 Jake Gyllenhaal and #42 Twitter), but I think I can do better.

For example, they list "cupcakes" as #2 (huh? cupcakes are awesome!). And "blogging" comes in somewhere close to the top. Which is crap since everyone knows it should be #1. So without further ado:

The [Cherry] Ride Overrated List (in alphabetical order):

1. Alan Greenspan (retire already)
2. Anything and everything related to American Idol (except Kelly Clarkson)
3. Broadway plays based off old TV or movies
4. Brooklyn (get over yourself already)
5. CBS (Two and a Half Men? Cold Case?)
6. Flip flops (sure, I'm as guilty as the next person, but unless you live in the tropics or are heading to the beach, these should not be worn)
7. Green (the color, not the movement)
8. Google (Trust me: No company is more evil than one whose motto is "Don't Be Evil')
9. High School Musical (especially that Zac kid)
10. Irish Pubs (Not located in Ireland. Wow, I can order a Guinness! Gimme a break.)
11. Miami (close second: Seattle)
12. Meerkats
13. Mojitos
14. Perez Hilton (I saw him on MTV and I hate this fucker.)
15. Pixar movies (with the exception of The Incredibles, of course)
16. Ringtones (So your phone belts out Fall Out Boy when it rings. You're a douche.)
17. Sushi (Overpriced bourgeoisie bullshit)
18. Text messaging
19. Vanity Fair
20. Wine

Coming soon - the [C]R list of the 20 Most Underrated People, Places and Things.

Latest in Ridiculous American Apparel Stuff

In what I'm sure will be a regular update on the [C]R, I must point out that American Apparel is now selling more ridiculous shit. In this case it is eyewear, as evidenced on their website.


What the hell is this? Not only are they ugly, but aren't these all the same glasses?

PS - I think I would actually punch someone in the face for wearing the "Hanover" style. Just a warning to you Wicker Park doucheburger hipsters.

I've Got Bitch Tits

Like anyone else, over the last few years I've noticed my body going through some changes, and not good ones.

I spent most of my teen and adult years working out (I've been a competitive swimmer - high school, then college, then in a master's program) but pretty much stopped going to the pool or the gym about two years ago. To nobody's surprise but my own, this has resulted in some unfortunate fat and weight gain. I am by no means obese; but for someone of my small height and stature, I've been getting a bit, well, full figured.

A few weeks ago Dr. Ken posted about his pecs, and it got me thinking about my own. Those years of swimming a couple miles a day gave me, in my opinion, a bigger-than-average chest and shoulders, which I was generally content with. But one of the downsides of having a nice muscular chest is that it very easily turns to fat when you do nothing but sit on your ass and eat donuts. In short, I developed a case of bitch tits.*

I went from having a chest I was proud of, to having a chest that any 12-year old girl would be proud of. My boobs shake when I run down a flight of stairs. They brush up against people on the train. I have a hard time sleeping on my stomach. This is a problem, people.

Now this is where it gets even more disconcerting: Over the past few weeks I have begun working out again -- losing weight, toning up and feeling pretty good that I'm getting my body back on track and into my old routine. The problem is, I don't think I'm losing weight (or gaining muscle mass, for that matter) in my pecs! My torso is shrinking and toning, but my bitch tits are staying the same flabby size! It's like my man-boobs are looking proportionally bigger than before!

At this rate, a manssiere may soon be in order. Good thing XMas is around the corner.

Thanks for listening.

* Not the actual bitch tits certain men get from taking too many steroids, or the real gynecomastia medical condition. My bitch tits are steroid-free and come from not enough exercise and too many Entenmann's Cheese Coffeecakes.

What I Did On My Summer Break(Down) Pt. IV - I Wore a Superhero Cape to Lollapalooza

Other people my blogroll can give you better descriptions about what happened at this year's Lollapalooza, Aug. 5-7 in Grant Park (yeah, it was a month ago, get over it) than I can. But I will say that it was fun. Not as good as last year, but a good time nonetheless.

AT&T, a major sponsor of the festival, "accidentally" deleted an anti-Bush comment by Pearl Jam as part of their webcast of the event (apparently AT&T did the same thing last year during the Flaming Lips set?), so that was really awesome. I love AT&T. Also, I could not make long distance overseas calls in the AT&T tent, like I could last year. And the little plastic fans they gave out were useless landfill. So in my opinion, their presence as a sponsor is totally useless. AT&T sucks and needs to go.

I did want to discuss, however, how awesome me, Richard and our friends Tomas and Sarah are because we got ahold of some sweet-ass superhero capes and wore them on Days 2 and 3 of the show, as seen in the photo below.

[Sarah and I in our amazing superhero capes, Saturday at Lolla.]

Why did we wear superhero capes to Lollapalooza, you ask? Because we are awesome, I said (geez you people need to pay attention).

Here's pretty much how it happened. On Friday, after a few* drinks of vodka and Smartwater (yeah, it tasted about as good as it sounds), and Budweiser Select (yeah, it tasted about as good as it sounds too) and watching the antics of the keyboardist from Ghostland Observatory rocking a cool sliver cape, a history-making conversation ensued that went something like this:

Sarah: "Check out the keyboardist's cool cape. So sweet."
Me: "Yeah, that is awesome. People don't wear enough capes these days. This is a major problem with society, I believe."
Sarah: "I wish we had capes that we could wear to Lollapalooza!"
Me: "Yeah! Like, if each of us had a sweet sparkly superhero-looking ones."
Sarah: "Yes! With those cool old-school big collars."
Richard: "We could each have different colored ones. I want a red one."
Me: "This is actually one of the best ideas ever devised in the history of mankind. ** Let me make a few phones calls."

Some of you may remember how my Grandma made my and Niner's cool Panda costumes for Halloween last year (chronicled here and here). Grandma was a professional seamstress for decades, and she loves making stuff for me - since I will never give her great grandkids, in times like this I can serve as both her grandson and great grandson. When I called to ask if she could whip out four different colored adult-sized shiny capes with collars in less than 24 hours, she didn't bat an eye.

According to my mother, who went with Grandma to the fabric store, there was a conversation between with the clerk that went like this:

Grandma: "I need 3 yards each of the following fabrics."
Clerk: "Wow, how colorful! What is this for?"
Grandma: "I am making my grandson and his friends some capes."
Clerk: "How adorable! Is your grandson in a play at camp or something?"
Grandma: "No."
Clerk: "Is this for a school project then?"
Grandma: "No, he just wants them for some concert he's going to. For Halloween, I made him a panda costume."
Clerk: "Is your grandson a special needs child or something?"***

And so it came to pass. For most of Saturday and parts of Sunday, we walked around all day with our capes on, like we were superheroes, like it was the most normal, logical thing a person could do (it helped that we drank heavily again). We got a few looks, but we also got even more "awesome!" and "sweet capes, dudes!" comments. Everyone was jealous of our awesomeness.

Plus, it made us easy to spot when we got separated from each other.

[Even Superheroes need cash sometimes.]

* And of course by a "few" I really mean a crapload - or, at least enough to make the idea of wearing capes to Lolla seem like a good one.

** OK, maybe I didn't really say that. But I can tell you that I was so excited about wearing a cape that I was at least thinking it.

*** OK, so the clerk didn't say this, but ten bucks it was what she was thinking.

What I Did On My Summer Break(Down) Pt. III - I Joined The Ranks of the Unemployed

As much as I enjoy sharing intimate stories of my unhealthy eating habits and involuntary bowel movements, I don't often talk about many of the more personal stuff that happens in my life, including my job.

Sure, I've complained about it every once in awhile, but for the most part I've kept my job experiences off the Interwebs. Mostly because we all hate our jobs (right?), and because I lived in constant fear that my bosses would somehow stumble across this site and, being the technophobic luddites that they are (there is no talking on cell phones, web surfing or IMing allowed at my place of business), they'd fire me on the spot.

I had not been happy with my job for many months and had been planning an exit. Recently, our agency lost a major account (through no fault of our own; they were getting bought out and needed to suspend all ongoing marketing efforts) and because of this (and some other stuff) productivity and billable hours across the office were down, and there was a sense that things would not be improving anytime real soon. I saw this development as one opportunity for me to discuss my eventual exit in a rational manner with my bosses.

To make a long story short, I found myself one day in a conversation with my boss where I suddenly decided it would be a good time to talk about the future. For the sake of brevity and simplification, the conversation(s) went like this:

Scene I:
Me: "Boss, I don't think this job has been a good fit for me and I think it is time to discuss a transition strategy. And since we just lost a major account, I think this is as good a time as any."
Boss (rather offended): "I'm well aware of the financial stability of this company and don't need you to tell me. Let me think about it and get back to you."

Scene II (a few hours later):
I get a call from my boss to come into the conference room. I enter the room and see him and the other partner sitting with a small stack of papers.
Boss: "We've discussed the conversation from this morning and we've decided that we don't want to pay you to sit around and look for another job and that your last day of employment with this company will be today."
Me: "..."
Boss: "So you have two options. You can work through the end of today, or you can sign these papers here and leave right now. We've cut you a check to cover you through the middle of the month, plus another check for your owed vacation time. The choice is yours.
Me: "..."
Boss: "..."
Me: "I will just leave now, then."

And in a matter of 30 minutes I had cleaned my desk, handed over my keys and was a free man. And the thing is, I think I was/am supposed to feel bad or upset about it, but the truth is that I had been feeling extremely free and optimistic. Sure, it is not the way I wanted it to end, but I've already started a new job (I've started my own consulting business -- wow,it feels weird to write that -- where I'm making good money, can essentially set my own hours, work from home, not have to put on pants) but I now realize how much more of a stress and source of unhappiness that job was for me now that I am out of it. I've used my free time to enjoy the sunshine, connect with friends, and start exercising again. I've stopped shaving and am loving it.

I also started taking classes again so that I can apply to nursing school - but that is another story entirely.

PS - If you're looking for a good online distraction, especially while at work (because really, when and where else would you possibly be looking for a good online distraction anyway?), I highly recommend the game "Five Minutes To Kill (Yourself)" from AdultSwim.com. In it, you run around the office to find items and co-workers to help kill you off so that you don't have to attend that team meeting in 5 minutes. Good fun.

My 12 Hours of Stalking Neil Finn

(Note: If you're looking for a satisfying payoff to this story -- i.e. how the [C]R successfully stalks the great Neil Finn -- go see a Hollywood movie. Because this is real life. And plus, I'm not that lucky.)

This weekend Crowded House descended upon Chicago and rocked my lame ass. To show my appreciation, I decided it would be appropriate for Neil Finn to meet me and realize what an amazing person I am and maybe invite me to hang with him back in New Zealand or at least write a song about me.

I had a great partner in crime in my efforts, Richard (who also bought the tickets for us to the show back in May, the day they went on sale). With help from Niner, Richard and I determined that the band was staying at the Hotel Sax, the former House of Blues Hotel, located right next the HOB, where the magical concert happened.

As I have no real life of any kind, my plan was to arrive in the early afternoon Saturday and essentially hang out in the hotel lobby all day, waiting for Neil to walk through, and then make the Magic happen. This proved to be a pretty easy feat, since nobody there seemed to notice us sitting on the plush couch directly in front of the elevator bank (also, there seemed to be no other groupies around so I was feeling optimistic). So Richard and I sat there in the lobby for about an hour until we started getting really bored.

Richard has plenty of experience in meeting rock stars and knows all the tricks. He suggested that we also hang out in the hotel bar after the concert, and asked the bellhop how late "after the show" the bar would be open (as if to imply he was part of the CR entourage. He was very believable). He also suggested we walk across the street to the HOB to see if perhaps the band was there doing a sound check, so we did. As good an idea that it was, we pretty much got nowhere.

He then suggested we scope out the stage door. We were able to determine that the door was one flight underground, making it a bit difficult access. To make a long story short, we had to walk three blocks west of the HOB, take a parking garage elevator to a sub-basement floor, bust through an alarmed door, endure the stench of vomit and walk through the darkest underbelly of Chicago alleyways. But we found the stage door, and after assessing the situation mapped out a plan to come back both before and after the show (if need be) and meet the band as they entered/left the venue. Because we are clever like that.

Because stalking is demanding work, we decided to leave and return at 6 (doors opened at 7:30), meet up with friends for a drink in the hotel bar and get friendly with the wait staff in case we needed their help after the show (see how smart we are??).

Fast forward to about 8 pm, with Richard and I comfortably seated at the hotel bar with 4 Long Island Iced Teas, a couple of beers and at least a rum & coke between us. The idea of hanging out at the stage door before the show starts seems like both a distant memory and silly at the same time (damn you LIIT's!).

[This is a re-enactment of me kinda/sorta pretending to be looking for Neil Finn in the hotel bar, hoping that maybe like us, he too decided that getting a drink before the show was a good idea. See how dramatic this whole affair has been?]

We head into the venue and meet up with our friends, who are standing about 25 feet from the stage. This is where I am supposed to talk about the concert itself. Yes, it was amazing. But the crowd really sucked because everyone around us was old and had forgotten what it is like to go to a general admission concert, and a few skanks and assholes directly in front of us didn't know any fucking words to any CH songs, nor would they dance, and kept looking at their watches. What the fuck is the point? Go back to Naperville and watch "Two and a Half Men" you fucktard douche nuggets!

Neil and crew sounded and played great, rocked most of my favorite songs and truly put on a good show. They came out for two encores, and played until (I think) about 12:30. When they played "Heaven That I'm Making" (from their new album) and "Better Be Home Soon" I may have cried a little. But because it was dark nobody saw me so therefore you'll never know.

Oh, also, early in to the show, during a quiet lull, I yelled out "I LOVE YOU NEIL FINN!" (Apparently the show was recorded so I'm sure my love profession is now history.) Although I am sure he heard me, he didn't acknowledge. He didn't have to. Because he knows and understands the special bond we share. However, the people around me did acknowledge, and everyone turned and looked at me like I was a freak. "What?" I said. "Somebody had to say it!" Only Richard laughed.

Since this story is really long, let me cut to the end of the evening. After the show, we went outside and snuck down into the alley and stage door. During the concert Richard noticed a lot of people with VIP passes, which meant there was probably going to be a long meet and greet backstage after the show, which also meant that we'd be likely waiting a long time outside for them to come out. By this point, we were both really tired and I was becoming extremely comfortable with the idea of not hanging out at the stage door for an hour or so.

Plus, a big security guy stopped us when we arrived, asking us what we wanted. I decided to let Richard do the talking, and the conversation went like this:

Big Security Dude: "Whaddya want?"
Richard: "We're just waiting for Neil and Nick." (See, I told you he was good.)
Big Security Dude: "Nuh-uh. You can't be down here."
Richard and Me: "OK then. Have a good night."

And that is the end of my story. Before we went back to the street, Richard did snap this photo of me in front of their tour bus. Sadly, this was to be the closest I would get to meeting Neil Finn. But the band is supposed to head back into the studio in December to record their next album (yes!), so there will be a next time. Did you hear that Neil? Our Time On Earth* will come. We will be Together Alone** soon.

[This is me in front of the tour bus. You don't have to say it - I am fully aware of what a dork I am.]

* That was a funny Crowded House insider joke, so laugh.

** So was that, so keep laughing.

Does Anyone Know How I Can Find Out Where Crowded House Is Staying While They're in Chicago?

... Because they should be arriving sometime after midnight tonight, and I got me some Stalking to do.

You will be mine, Neil Finn.
O Yes you certainly will.*

* And I mean that in a completely non-creepy, non-obsessive way, of course.

What I Did On My Summer Break(Down) Pt. II - I Joined a Cult

Like a rash or pandemic, several weeks ago my e-mail inbox began flooding with messages from both old and current friends and acquaintances, asking me to join the Facebook community. I had received requests before, but for whatever reason, in mid-July it seemed everybody was doing it, so I caved.

When i started, I spent about an hour getting my page set up, adding friends and cute little applets, like a "fun wall" and a "places I've been" map (which seems impressive until compared to those belonging to other friends. Sure, maybe you've been to Copenhagen, but I've been to Hutchinson, Kansas bitches!). I sent out a few messages to people in my network, sent back a few "pokes" to people, joined a few clubs - now I'm a member of a "Chicago is awesome" network and a Patty Griffin fanclub. Yippee.

As I went through it, I thought to myself, "this is kinda boring" but figured I'd get into it. Since there are, like, millions of members I figure it must be pretty fun, right? Daily, I'd get virtual gin & tonics sent to me from friends inviting me to join them for Happy Hour. I've now got craploads of virtual drinks saved up (which I do appreciate friends!) but I stare at the row of beers on my Facebook page and all it does is depress me that I'm not really out getting drunk.

And then there's that whole aspect where now everyone in my circle knows every move I make online. Now, all 28 people in my network get a little notice saying "[Cherry] told his brother to fuck off" or "[Cherry] joined the 'I'm Turned On by Little Superstar' Network on Saturday." Awesome for me.

And do I really want to accept the invitation to join the network of some guy who lived on my floor freshman year in college that I haven't seen since then? First off, how did that freak find me? And secondly, I'm afraid if I reject his offer he'll come after me with one of the many hunting rifles that he'd keep hidden in his closet and show off during our floor progressives.

Who are these people who say they spend hours a day on Facebook? How? And Why? While I'm not complaining that I've got great friends in my Facebook community, who has time to keep all this up? Is there something else about this whole movement that I'm not getting? Something else I should be doing besides poking other people and sending them drinks? Am I missing the point?

As far as I can tell, Facebook is pretty much only good for one thing: reminding me of the birthday's of people in my network (btw, Happy Birthday Kathy!). I'm pretty sure I'm over it. I think I'll stick to my tried-and-true cults, like Blogger and Wang-Wang.