St. Valentine Was a Sadist

Yeah, y'all know what today is.
Like most of you, I think VD is a pile of crap, but in honor of the occasion anyway let me just say: Richard - thanks for putting up with my seemingly never-ending bullshit. Why you haven't jumped ship by now is beyond me. So thanks, and I love you.

Moving on. Also in honor of the occasion, I found this and thought it to be mildly anti-Valentine's Day in a subversive/not-so-subversive way. Perhaps it can help you improve or save or even sustain your intimate relationship.

According to the site, our sleeping pose is that of the tetherball. Which is pretty much dead-on. The illustration below pretty much depicts how I (the "ball" on the left) and Richard (the "pole" on the right, minus the whole long hair and big boobs thing) sleep at night.

Happy February 14th to everyone!

Craptastic Weekend

PREVIOUSLY ON THE [CHERRY] RIDE: "...Richard and I leave tonight for a whirlwind trip to DC...it is going to be either the best weekend or the worst depending on how things go..."

To say the weekend was "the worst" would be the understatement of the year.

Let's back up a minute to set the scene: as Richard and I had just signed the lease on a new apartment, we decided to drive out to DC to pick up some furniture in my house there and drive it back on Sunday (in one of my parent's cars no less because they have a big one and I have a Mini, and it was going to cost close to $1K to rent a one way truck).

The trip started out fine - we drove all night Thursday without incident, arriving at my house in DC around 10am local time (about a 12 hour drive) Friday morning. We were tired, but relatively energized to collect and pack some belongings, as well as see a few friends.

From there things went terribly awry. After taking all our stuff from the drive (clothes, laptops, iPods, etc.) into the house and grabbing a quick 2-hour nap, we went back out to the car only to discover that it had been broken into (yes, right in front of my house and in broad daylight) in an attempted car theft. The steering column was completely damaged, the locks broken, the transmission shaft and switch busted and left for dead on the floor of the car.

That's what the cool kids like to call a Buzzkill. When shit like that happens, you're pretty much done. Since we no longer had a vehicle in which to load some furniture into, let alone drive, there are only a few things you can do: call the police to file a report, call the 'rents insurance agent, find a local car repair shop to have the car towed to, and call a tow truck to haul away the poor busted car. All of which we did (with varying degrees of success - more on that in a bit).

Since it was becoming clear that driving the car back to Chicago by Monday morning in time for us to get back to work was simply not in the realm of possibility, we also had to make arrangements to get home. Four options come to mind - rent a car (no thanks; we were no longer looking forward to driving 12 hours back to Chicago), take the Greyhound (we weren't warm to this idea either but looked into it -- 17 hours on a bus + $95 a piece), take the Amtrak (16.5 hours + $95 a piece) or fly (on ATA we could take a 1.5 hour flight and spend $95 a piece - clearly the best option). Note to Greyhound and Amtrak: Nobody is going to pay you $95 for a trip to Chicago when ATA will get you there a good 14 hours quicker for the same exact price.

Anyway, we book a flight back for Saturday evening (the soonest we could get the hell out of DC), and spend Saturday morning at the dealership repair shop in Arlington (where the car sits waiting to be repaired), talking to the insurance company, talking to both the DC and Arlington, VA police about trying to get a police report (which ultimately we do not get because DC Police are Total and Complete Morons) and having brunch with the Diplomat.

(Helpful side note: For those of you coming to DC as tourists/visitors, don't ever get yourself into a situation where you need to rely on the DC police for any help because if you do, you might as well fire up the Bat Signal -- you have just as much hope getting Batgirl to help you as you will from the police and that's the honest-to-god truth. But I digress...)

In a completely unrelated yet equally unfortunate incident, I also managed to lose my cell phone somewhere between leaving the house for the airport and checking my bag at National.* So by Saturday afternoon I am absolutely loving life. Isn't life swell?

So folks, I think it is universally acknowledged fact that we had a shitty weekend. And now, if the insurance company and car repair shop can mutually decide that the car should get fixed sometime in the next few days, Richard and I will be flying back out to DC this weekend to do it all again - get the car from the dealership, pack it up with all our shit, and drive it all the way back to Chicago. Good times.

I defy anyone out there to top their weekend story with mine.

* I could go on here to say that I actually blame ATA Airlines for losing my cell phone, but admittedly details as to how exactly the cell phone became lost are open to interpretation.

Lunch

As I am still recovering from our horrific weekend in DC (I will write about it more tomorrow, once my hands stop shaking), combined with a shitty work day, I thought it best to seek consolation through junk food. Therefore, this (and only this) is what I had for lunch today:That's right, folks -- not the regular size, but the King Size. Because I was hungry. Not bad for someone trying to cut down on his sugar consumption this year. Yay for me.

Let's Drink to That

A year ago yesterday I moved back to Chicago. Was it a good idea?

You bet your ass it was, according to a new study from the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (is this for real?), which ranks Chicago as the "#1 City for Binge Drinking" in the U.S. Sweet - pass me the tequila!

Says Chicago bartender Max Lowe: "It's very much apparent here that drinking is a predominant part of life. Midwest culture is prone to it."

PROPER!!

In Other News: Richard and I leave tonight for a whirlwind trip to DC. We're leaving tonight around 9 p.m., driving all night, spending two hectic days trying to say hello to people while we pack up some furniture, then driving back at the crack o' dawn Sunday morning. Huh? Yeah, it is going to be either the best weekend or the worst depending on how things go. Wish us luck.

To many of my DC friends: take this as a preemptive apology if I don't get the chance to see you -- we will be back again sometime this spring for a proper visit.

Hipsters Suck

Reading (Not) Carrie Bradshaw's blog yesterday and her rant against Portland Hipsters got me thinking about these unwashed, tatooed pseudo-intellectuals and how much they really bug me.

And like Carrie, I can relate to her frustration with Portland's particular strain of Hipster - the whole movement was just really starting to spread in the last year or two that I lived there, when it was still more of a phenomenon than actual movement.

Then I moved to DC, and was relatively sheltered from the Hipster, because there are none there (OK, there are a few that hang at the Black Cat and lately, from what i can tell from the last time I was there, Cafe St. Ex) . For one, there are no cool-yet-inexpensive neighborhoods in DC for these creatures to exist; and two, it's tough to be a college Hipster when somebody's paying the tuition for you to take classes at Georgetown, GW or American (cha-ching).

Moving back to Chicago I was exposed to the full onslaught of Hipsterness - the scruffy hair, big sunglasses, tight, rolled-up jeans, art school supplies and general disregard for hygiene. We live on the outskirts of Bucktown/Wicker Park (the epicenter for the Chicago Hipster) and one of our favorite coffee shops, Filter, is ground zero.

Perhaps I'm 10 years too old, but I just don't get it. (Granted, even if I were 10 years younger I wouldn't be hip enough to be a hipster, but still.) The whole notion of putting that much thought and work into looking like you don't give a shit about the way you look sorta defeats the purpose, doesn't it? And unless you want to work as a barista or record store clerk your whole life, at some point you need to grow up, buy a comb and a wardrobe, and get a job where you have to look somewhat professional, right? I mean, not everyone can be lucky enough to work in production their entire life.

I think some city's Hipsters are worse than others - NYC/Williamsburg Hipsters have set the bar pretty high; in San Fran, Hipsterdom is a contagious disease, spreading from San Jose all the way to Berkeley. And Portland Hipsters are also right up there, considering most of them have never traveled east of the Cascades.

Curious as to what others think, I've made this week's CRQOW about who has the most annoying Hipsters. Vote, and vote often.

A Good, Swift Kick in the NASA

I know there are "legitimate" arguments for why we continue to pour money into our NASA/space program, but for my whole life I've had none of it. Like Prince sang in Sign O' The Times: "Sister killed her baby cuz she could afford 2 feed it and were sending people 2 the moon..."

NASA's 2007 budget is 16.8 billion dollars. Think about that, people. And what do we have to show for it? Diddley squat, I say.

Now more than ever, I think it's time to put a halt to the Space Program, especially in light of this news announcement today about some crazy-ass Space Shuttle astronaut, Lisa Nowak, arrested for attempted kidnapping and battery towards a woman Nowak was jealous of because she competed against her for the affections of another astronaut. Huh? WTF??

[Yikes. Now there's a face for radio...]

You can read the semi-entertaining story for yourself, but I have to point out that Nowak is so crazy she wore diapers so that she wouldn't have to stop along the drive from Houston to Orlando (where the other woman was returning from a flight).

Dammn Nowak - you are one crazy beeatch! One crazy beeatch, I might add, whose salary is paid by the good taxpayers of America. I hope for your sake you bought the generic adult diapers and not the top-shelf Depends. Show a little fiscal responsibility when spending my money, lady.

Let this be the proverbial camel back-breaking straw for the NASA program. It's time to put some of that money towards things that really matter -- like education, health care and the environment -- and not towards funding psychos and the silly space programs they work for.

Ugh.

Since I've done the obligatory pre-Super Bowl post, it is only fitting that I do a quick post-Super Bowl entry.

The Bears were terrible yesterday, no doubt. But:

• They had a great season, and even Chicagoans who don't follow sports very often (like me) got into the momentum - and that is a good thing.
• They'll have another strong team next year - and that is a good thing.
  

Richard and I watched the game with Fred & Laura, ate a lot of velveeta and gummy bears, and had a good time. Richard also made a delicious Chicago Bears cake for the game, and there are leftovers - and these are all good things.

So THANK YOU BEARS for providing some good memories this winter.

In other news: it is fucking freezing both outside and here in my office.*

* This is the only bitching about the cold weather I will do on this blog. At least for today.

Mojo

OK, this is my official "Good Luck Bears" entry -- my effort to put the positive energy out into the universe, specifically towards Miami.

I had a dream last night that the Bears won, which can only be a good sign (of course in that same dream I was friends with Natalie Portman and we were driving around with her baby in the back seat, but whatever...).

In Related News: 35% of you agree the Bears will win, according to the latest CRQOW (the Colys only got 24% -- losers!).
In Other Related News: Didja know Prince is playing halftime? I wonder if he'll embarrass himself.

This is a photo of my cousin Drew who lives in Florida. he broke his wrist this week and my aunt painted the logo on it. "They'd better win," she told me. "Or I'll have to paint over it on Monday!"

Here's hoping that won't happen....

This Deal Won't Be Around Long!

When it comes to material possessions, for the past year I've let one principle be my guide: Never own more things that cannot be packed into the back of my Mini Cooper in more than 20 minutes.

That philosophy has served me well these past 12 months, but now that Richard and I are getting a bigger place, filling it with a mattress, some clothes, and a box of old comic books simply isn't going to cut it. I like minimalist, but not that minimal. We need actual furniture. We'll soon be taking a trip back to DC to grab some of the things I left behind, but in general we are starting from scratch.

And like any other couple looking to acquire some furniture on the fast and cheap, we've turned to Craigslist. Let me just say from the get-go that we are fully aware of what we're getting into: buying furniture from Craigslist can be a risky affair. There's often a reason why that shag carpet is for sale (and it ain't because the owner loves it so much they want others to share in their joy). However, you can get lucky and nab something good -- sometimes you just have to look through a lot of crap to get it; there are pearls to be mined, often you just need to sort through some clams.

I know that everyone has got a Craigslist story. Spend any amount of time on the site and you'll quickly form your own opinions about how good or bad it is. But as I've been scouring the site's furniture listings over the past week I've come up with some (possibly angry) observations that I'd like to share for those of you who are considering selling stuff on Craigslist. Do us potential buyers a favor and keep these things in mind before you post:

1. From what I can tell, "modern" to most posters is defined as anything built after the Civil War. Sorry, but just because it was built sometime during the 20th Century does not automatically make it "modern" so please stop using that term for your crappy Palace of Versailles chair. It's not -- not by a longshot.
2. Apparently "modern" is also code for "piece of shit."
3. Other code words for "piece of shit" -- "unique" "artistic" "adorable" and "IKEA."
4. Speaking of IKEA, you've got some balls selling your IKEA shit for the price you're asking. Fresh-off-the-shelf IKEA is already pushing the limits of quality. But used IKEA furniture is just plain wrong. A good price for your used IKEA Poang chair? How about Free.
5. More power to you if you think someone will actually give you money for this. Or this. Or this. Or these. Seriously Buena Suerte.
   
6. Would it kill you to post a photo of your "beautiful antique Persian rug"? Nobody is going to drive over to view it without seeing a photo first.
7. And if you do with to take a photo and post it, try using the flash or maybe turning on a light so that I can actually see what your kitchen set looks like. I don't care that it sits in the basement. A little light would be nice.
8. I honestly believe that every single puffy leather(y) couch (you know the ones - they look like giant half-chewed pieces of salt water taffy) ever manufactured is available today on Craigslist. Every single one. In every color.
9. Three years ago you bought a dining room set for $1,400. Congratulations. Don't try and sell it today on Craigslist for $1,100. This is Craigslist - home of the cheap. If I wanted to spend $1K on a dining room set, I'd just buy a new one.
10. Nothing screams "I can't sell my furniture!" louder than the phrase "This deal won't be around long!" -- Uumm, yeah. Yeah it will. It's ugly.
11. Do people really buy used mattresses off Craigslist? Really? Isn't that a bit like buying used underwear from Craigslist?
12. For Pete's sake, please at least pretend to be literate and proofread your ad before you post. To the enterprising guy who can assist if I need help "muving" my furniture: Even if I did, I'd probably go with someone who could at least spell at a third grade level. Sorry, but that's how I roll.
13. To about 25% of the posters out there: Please, please, please stop throwing around terms like "mid-century modern" and "Eames era" -- you clearly don't know what those phrases mean. They're not buzzwords for "I think my stuff looks cool and you should buy it." Charles and Ray would be turning in their graves if they saw that piece-of-shit brass and marble console table you're selling.
14. Speaking of brass: If you're selling it, here's a tip: Determine what you think you could sell it for, and then immediately slash the price by about 75% from that. Because that's how much you'll probably get for it.
15. POSTING YOUR AD IN ALL CAPS IS NOT GOING TO MAKE ME BUY IT ANY FASTER. Learn some basic Web etiquette, douchebag.
16. Save the backstories for your family or friends who give a shit. I don't know your grandmother and don't care that she brought it over with her from Poland, nor do I care about your loving relationship with her. Keep it simple and tell me how much you want for it.
17. Believe it or not, "platform" is an actual style of bed with specific characteristics. It is not simply defined as "anything that keeps the mattress off the floor." So your four poster bed is not a platform. Neither is your princess canopy. Or your leather headboard bed. Educate yourself on what it is, and stop throwing the term around to describe yours.
18. If it is indeed the "Coolest Dining Table in the World" like you advertise it is, then why didn't it sell two weeks ago the first time you posted it? Not looking so cool to me now.
19. While I appreciate that you need to unload your baker's rack ASAP, posting it and then re-posting it every 30 minutes just makes you an asshole.
20. There's a fine line between "antique Asian" and "Wickes' going-out-of-business."
    

"Have It Your Way" My Ass!

When New York passed the trans fat ban, I applauded.
When Starbucks announced they were purging their foods of trans fat, I said nothing.
But I can no longer sit idle as this silly trans fat ban hits too close to home.

That's right folks, Burger King has announced it will begin cooking without trans fats. This has clearly gone too far.

Lord help me if my Triple Whopper or my Quadruple BK Stacker (which is, in case you don't know -- 4 beef patties, 4 slices of American cheese, 8 strips of bacon, BK Stacker Sauce, 1000 calories, 620 calories from fat, 68 grams of fat, 30 grams of saturated fat, 240 mg of cholesterol, 1800 mg of sodium, and 34 grams of carbs -- I mean, How Yummy Is That???) begin to taste less delicious.

Who is next, Dunkin' Donuts??

Socially-mandated health regulations be damned!! If I want coronary heart disease, increased risk of obesity and diabetes and liver and erectile dysfunction, then by God I have the right to get it through my fast food consumption!

Who's with me on this one?

Anyone? Anyone?

No?

IN OTHER NEWS: R.I.P. Molly Ivins - you will be missed!
IN OTHER, OTHER NEWS: I ate a burrito for dinner last night and I'm still full as of 1pm the next day. Thought you should know...

The Other White Meat

A client of mine had her baby on Saturday, about 2 weeks early. Not knowing this, a co-worker and I called her office this morning to talk about a project. She answered the phone and we talked briefly. As we were saying our goodbyes and good lucks, my co-worker says to her, "Enjoy your baby!"

Enjoy your baby?? What, is she serving it for dinner? Do people say that, or am I the only one who thinks that's weird?

Nice to Meet You Too

My weekend can pretty much be summed up by the following incident that happened to me on Friday night...

Richard and I were hanging out with Fred & Laura and their friends at Danny's in Bucktown. I went to the bar to get us some drinks, and stood next to two women sitting at the bar. One of them looks at me - from head to toe - then turns to her friend and says:

"There are no cute guys here."

Happy Australia Day

You haven't lived until you've celebrated Australia Day, preferably while in Australia (wow, how different my life was a year ago).

My Richard has been celebrating all week and you can check out some of his thoughts on his home here.

In honor, my list of 10 favorite things about Australia:

1. Richard (duh)
2. Vegemite
3. Beaches - specifically Bondi, Manly and Maroubra
4. The Yarra River around Melbourne & the Royal Botanic Gardens
5. Cadbury Malt Crisps*
6. Kath and Kim
7. Sydney Harbour - esp. the Bridge and the Opera House
8. Crowded House
9. Chapel Street, Melbourne
10. Mardi Gras

Aussie! Aussie! Oy! Oy!

* Technically these might by British, but I don't think I found any at my local Tesco or Sainsbury's, so I'm sticking with it.

It's Like High School All Over Again...

I've been de-blogrolled and I'm not sure how I feel about it.

I'd been on this person's blogroll for a few months and then suddenly I was gone. No warning, no explanation. I mean, damn!

I can't truly take it personally, after all, since the person doesn't really know me and only reads the blogger side of me. And since I chose not to use my blog to discuss the more intimate details of my life, this blog is just a tiny reflection of who I really am.

Still, I can't help but be a little hurt by it.

I guess it is a bit karmic: I've removed people from my blogroll before and will surely do it again - but usually because they've stopped posting or post so infrequently that I've lost interest. But this is different; this is more of a: "I once blogrolled you because I found you interesting and now I don't."

I think we'd all agree that the cardinal rule of blogging is that you have to do it for yourself and nobody else.* I started my first blog because I wanted to force myself to write daily. My second one started because I was moving across country and wanted my friends and family to be able to keep track of me (since I'm horrible at keeping in touch) - it was easier for me to write a post than write multiple emails or pick up the phone.

But if you blog to gain approval or acceptance from others, it's a losing game. I've met (both physically and virtually) some great people through this blog but that's the icing on the cake - it can't be the sole reason for doing it.

So then why do I feel rejected?

[I would love to have pants like that, btw.]

* The other cardinal rule, of course, is never to post photos of your genitals. I learned that the hard way.**

** Just kidding. I've never taken photos of my genitals and posted them to my blog. At least that you know about.

Now We're Getting Somewhere

Long before I realized my love for all things Australian*, I was a big fan of Crowded House. I think Neil Finn is one of the most talented and underrated singer-songwriters alive, and I've harbored a crush on him for years (when I was in New Zealand in 2005 I even thought about trying to stalk/track him down at his home, but common sense and lack of time dictated that I not).

Most people (especially here in America) only know the band for their songs "Don't Dream It's Over" and "Something So Strong" - both fine songs from the late 80s, but hardly representative of their true depth, talent and nuance (their last album, 1993's "Together Alone" is one of my Top 10 albums of all time/desert island discs and I made a pilgrimage to Karekare Beach, the place they recorded it, detailed here).

I actually wore black the day I heard they'd broke up back in 1995. A dark, dark day. But then Richard sent me an email with some news that the band is reuniting for a tour and a new album.

I'm so PROPER! at the moment I can barely concentrate on work. When they stop in Chicago for their tour, I think we'll organize an Australia/New Zealand party (you're all invited) and invite them over. They'll totally do it, too. Totally.

* Technically Neil is a Kiwi, not an Aussie (which actually makes him even more appealing) but anyway.

Real Housewives of Orange County

I don't have cable, so I don't watch the Bravo Network.

Therefore, I've never seen this show "The Real Housewives of Orange County" but I have seen banner ads for it on many many websites, and seen the above photo in lots of different places.

I don't care to watch the show but I do have one question: Are these "housewives" trannies?

Because from where I'm sitting, they look like trannies. Seriously, take a closer look. Except maybe for the one in the middle, they're all men.

Don't get me wrong - I have absolutely nothing against transsexuals -- in fact, if the people in this photo above were men at an earlier point in their lives, by all accounts this would be a much more interesting show and I might even be persuaded to watch it.

I'm just sayin'. If anyone out there has seen the show, let me know.

BearsWin

Bring on the velveeta and salsa dip, bitches!

Because I'm a Chicagoan and I fear retribution if I don't, I feel compelled to use this forum to congratulate the Chicago Bears on their NFC title (thanks Niner and Ryan for pointing that out).

Last time the Bears were in the Super Bowl, I got really drunk watching the game in a friend's attic bedroom and had to go to school the next day with a wicked hangover. I believe it was the first time I'd had a hangover in my life (and yes of course I was not even close to legal age so mom & dad if you're reading this -- sorry). This time I hope to be much more responsible.

I am sure a new version of the Super Bowl Shuffle is being choreographed as I write (you can see the original lyrics over at 5 of 9er), but personally I'll be creating some sort of Shuffle/Little Superstar hybrid dance.

The only bad thing is this: I saw on the news an interview with a family from New Orleans who came up for the game. They interviewed the mom (before the game) and she said something like: "We are so excited about this. This game means so much to the city and people of New Orleans. It has been such a tough few years for us so we're really hoping for the best."

I mean DAMN lady!! Like Chicago needs that kind of talk on our collective conscience! So I will end this post by saying:
GO BEARS!
and SORRY NEW ORLEANS WE LOVE YOU ANYWAY!

The Short Stick

Shorties get no respect.

This study points out that vertically-challenged people tend to make less money and get promoted less frequently than taller counterparts (this does not surprise me because taller people just tend to get noticed more than us shorties). The study says part of the reason is because taller people give off a perception of being more confident and self-assured. Whatever!

The study also goes on to say that growing up, short kids are more self-conscious about their height and because of this, tend to be shy and not participate in activities (like sports) that help them learn social and competitive skills. I call bullshit on this one - most short people I know are very self-assured and have excellent social skills because they were short growing up. And I know this is a stereotype, but in general, most short people I know are very interesting and fun to hang around with because we've learned to harness our intellect and (ahem) charm to compensate for our height.

Don't get me wrong - some of my favorite people are tall. But let's face it, short people rule!

Golden Globes Gripe

The last few days I've been reading some blogs about the Golden Globes, and they all basically boil down to this: "I watched the Golden Globes and they sucked."

To those people I have only one question: WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THINK WAS GOING TO HAPPEN? It's a god-damned awards show - nominees are called out, a winner is chosen, and then the winner walks onto the stage and gives a speech. That's pretty much it. What, were you expecting circus animals and Rappin' Granny? Why do you act as though you're surprised by this?

People who watch the Golden Globes (or the Emmys or the Oscars) do so because they like awards shows (I count myself in that group). But some are just too embarrassed to admit they like watching that stuff and do the whole "I'm too cool for this so I'm just going to write about how much they sucked." Get over it. You watched because you wanted to and guess what? You'll watch next year too. So stop bitching about it because it is so cliche.

There, I feel much better now.

Like I Needed Anything Else to Worry About...

Today scientists are changing the Doomsday Clock for the first time in four years to reflect even more threats to our existence -- the threat of nuclear holocaust is too old school; the Doomsday scientists are now adding "the threat of global warming, the genetic engineering of diseases and other threats to global survival" to the mix that can nudge the minute hand closer to midnight, the symbolic apocalypse and end of the world.

Since 2002 the clock has been set to seven minutes to midnight, but now it's 11:55 pm, "reflecting the most perilous period since Hiroshima and Nagasaki" according to a press release.

Fucking sweet. I'm pulling my 401k and Richard and I are moving to Tahiti. Anyone else?