Thankful for Chicago

Things in Chicago for which I am thankful
(and while I love them, I’m staying away from the obvious things like the Lake and the Cubs)

The CTA

It’s like dating a bad boy or having that friend. Unpredictable, frequently late, crowded, frustrating. But it serves a purpose. And it’s worth it for those moments. Like on the brown line when you cross the Chicago river or on the 145 or 146 on Lake Shore Drive and you get that view of the Lake Front. For those moments of “Wow” I’m grateful.




Two sided.

If you get a card from me, 99% of the time I purchased it at Two Sided. They have the best selection of cards and wacky unique gifts. Plus it usually smells nice because of all the different candles in there. And they have dog biscuits outside the store. That’s just cuteness all around.


Large Intelligentsia skim lattes with three packets of Splenda.

The foam is crack. My crack. When I take that first sip I have to resist moaning out loud. Public displays of java orgasms are just not cool.


Matilda’s and it’s bartenders.

My local. My home away from home to drink. I like it best during the week when it’s quieter, a little older. Less drunk horny twenty-somethings and more grown ups getting tipsy on a Monday night. I crave the fish tacos and I think the best deal ever is Fish Taco Tuesdays. They have my favorite juke box in the city. But really my favorite thing about Matilda’s is that they always make me feel at home and totally welcome. Like I’m their favorite regular. I have no delusions about this. I have bartended and waited tables but still I eat it up. And my favorite bartender is Calvin. He’s adorable, funny and always engaging to talk to. He’s flirty in the right way. (but sorry girls, he does have a girlfriend) Still, I like some innocent flirting with my vodka. And he’s an amazing musician. sigh.

Sweet Mandy B’s cupcakes.

I miss Magnolia Bakery. I do. And I wanted to love Cupcakes (since it is on my corner) but really, really, my absolutely favorite cupcakes in Chicago are Sweet Mandy B’s. The icing is sugary and the sprinkles pastel. I don’t know what it is with me and cupcakes, but I love LOVE love them. And Sweet Mandy B’s are my favorite. Just. Simply. YUM.

If You Want My Body And You Think I'm Sexy

Thoughts on Attraction

Friday night I got all dolled up (eye shadow, painful high heels and everything) to attend a party. At the beginning of the evening a friend and I were dud magnets. If you are boring and not very attractive, you talked to us. Even after we tried to politely make an exit by saying we were going to the bar, you asked us to get you a drink, or you followed us. You were not bad guys or losers. Just not guys we were interested in talking to. Ironically (or maybe karmically) there were two guys who we thought were kind of cute and amusing that we ended up with in conversations. Except they walked away from us. Twice. We joked (and wondered) if they were trying to avoid us like we were trying to avoid the duds that kept talking to us.

I did have a conversation with one guy in particular that was funny. He had a razor(ish) sharp sense of humor. I admit, I enjoy the challenge of trading barbs with someone who almost offends me but pushes me to be wittier. He was not unattractive but still not my type. He made a comment that he wouldn’t have talked to me so much if I wasn’t so cute. (First of all, ick) And rhetorically (at least he thought so) asked “Isn’t that why you are talking to me? Because I’m cute?” (again, ick) I truthfully told him I hadn’t decided yet if I was attracted to him. He actually tried to argue with me that I was. Which is kind of funny and probably to some girls attractive. Sometimes cockiness can be intriguing. But other times it’s just annoying.

I tried to explain to him that while for men attractiveness is black or white, for women it’s all kinds of grey shades. Men are attracted or they are not. At least, that’s been my observation. I think it can evolve and change at times. But pretty much, it’s there or it’s not.

For woman though it’s so much muckier. Sometimes you can be a bit attracted to someone. Just a bit, there are random moments it pops up (sorry for the pun) and moments its just not there at all. At times I have met a guy and been intrigued by him but not sure if attraction was going to show up or not, so then I go on a date with him. And at times, on the date, he’s charmed me in his own way and then wham! I want to kiss him. And other times I’ve gone on a date with someone and although they are charming and interesting and a great guy, I just don’t feel it. And know that I never will.

In that way it’s black and white for me. Once I realize it’s not there. It’s not there.

An interesting thing to note (at least interesting to me) is that I did kiss someone Friday night, someone who the first time I met I thought he was cute. But then occasionally times I hung out with him, I found him kind of annoying. He is charming and a good guy but he’s a LOT of personality at times. And while he could be fun to hang out with, I didn’t think of him as cute as the first time I met him. But the magic of Vodka, the dance floor at Carols, and the late hour I guess a moment was created so I kissed him. I don’t know why, I just know that in that moment it seemed to make sense.

Who knows why, when or how attraction occurs.

Mundane Monday Musings

A Tale of Two Press Conferences


I watched two press conferences today. The first was our current president. Huddled a bit to his side and behind him was Paulson, looking a bit like Lurch. At least that's what I first thought. His shoulders slightly curved, his eyes darting around, his mouth closed as he nodded his way through Bush's speech; Paulson looked tall, creepy and awkward. This is the man behind the wheel driving our economy. Bush looked squat, short, uncomfortable and ready to dash at any quick movements. But then I realized who they looked like. Smithers and Burns.

I tried to listen objectively to what Bush was saying, in particular because I bank at Citibank, so this current we're-not-calling-it-a-depression is getting really, really close to me now. (Not only am I unemployed but now I REALLY have to worry about my pitiful amount of money being FDIC insured). But I was distracted by the clumsy image they made right up to the painfully clunky exit. Bush finished speaking and they split in two, Bush darting in one direction and Paulson's lankly arms and legs slinking off in another, like an ungracefully choreographed high school dance performance. I was left thinking Bush just wants to get the hell out of Washington.

The next press conference was Obama announcing his latest nominations. He is smooth. Always. In his defense, he is new, a fresh face in charge of bringing us hope and change. He is unsharpened pencils, new notebooks and straight A's on the first day of school. He hasn't had a chance to mess up yet. Which I'm sure he will. Regardless of his water walking and prophetic oratory skills, he is human. But I am really excited to see what he will do.

A bizarre and disturbing reflection of me. (and my internet habits)

The google news recommended column cracks me up. There have been days when it was all Obama all the time with the occasional Hilary popping up for variety sake. Other times it has been all fluff and gossip with a random local Chicago story. I'd like to fancy myself intelligent and urbane. Someone who reads smart things and doesn't have time for foolishness. But really, I mean honestly, I love The Hills, Gossip Girl, Facebook, fashion magazines and even my news served with a touch of sugar and frivolilty. (considering my biggest source for news is Daily Intel) I read about foreign affairs, local politics and People's sexiest Man Alive. Witty, urbane, intelligent and frivilous. That's my Googlenews recommended section.

Gleeful disdain for perspective
There are those girls that whine "I'm so fat" just so that you will say, "No you're not." Or the friend that always complains about how much their life sucks when they are flush with money, have a great job, enviable partner and an apartment that makes you drool, while you are jobless, loveless, and stressed about real things. That's what how I felt about the Big Three autmomakers and their private jets. To be fair, the bailout would be for the guy on the factory floor, but it's hard to take them seriously when they are tooling around in $36 million private jets. Even Goldman Sachs is making sacrifices (although it strikes me as, well, not so much a sacrifice and more a DUH, of course your should give up your bonus. It is after all a BONUS and, in theory, a reward for a job well done not an entitlement. )

This weeks sweetness (with an overload of bittersweet)
Emily Bear, a seven year old piano prodigy wrote and performed a song as a wedding gift for Ellen. The song is titled "Once Upon A Wish" because Ellen's wish came true. Well, I cried through out the whole song watching Ellen try not to cry. It was so sweet and so sad.

I am not Helvetica

Following is an essay I wrote this summer and read at a reading:

I am not Helvetica. But my laptop thinks I am. My Macbook, if I’m being precise. It’s new. Semi new. Well, it’s five months old. But it doesn’t know me yet. It knows me a bit. The desktop picture is mine. The alert sounds are the sounds I chose. It tells me when I have new mail and knows to open my gmail with firefox. It knows what songs I play the most in iTunes. Tied for first are Colin Hay and The Postal Service. Second place is Neil Diamond. Only my Macbook knows this.
It knows my passwords, my online bank account, my web search history. When I begin to type in C - A - L, it offers up Calvin Marty. My new favorite musician and not so secret crush. It knows these things. And yet, when I open a document and begin to type, it starts in Helvetica.

I don’t know why Helvetica. Helvetica is a close suburb of Arial. It has the same shape to it’s A’s. The contemporary lack of pageantry with a stiffness. The letters straight, tight. Less foolishness, more content.

At one time I used Arial. Only Arial. Always. For everything. But somehow, at some point, I became Georgia. I don’t remember why or what prompted the change. But I do remember actively making the choice at some middle point of graduate school. A story had survived most of a semester and countless drafts in Arial. Then between advising appointments or before a workshop, it evolved into Georgia. And continued on as such through more drafts until my thesis.

Georgia, at times, was problematic. It was not as ubiquitous as other fonts. Not quite Mac compatible. Many of my professors and classmates had Macs and all the computers in the writing lounge (save one sad neglected PC) were Macs. When emailing something to my advisor, I would have to save a different draft in a different font. Usually Times New Roman, which is similar to Georgia. But Georgia is fuller, less ordinary. My copy was always Georgia.

My old laptop was an IBM. A thinkpad. It didn’t do much thinking, towards the end it did more crashing than anything. I’d had it for four years. Compared to the rapid shrinking of newer laptops, it felt heavier and clunkier over time. One day it just gave up. It simply never turned on again. Not even an attempted whirl from the fan, no blink of light. Just coldness. A black brick sitting on my coffee table.

I now have a Macbook. Light. Girly. A clean fresh white color. Hipster and cool. Fun. I like it. A lot. Friendly, easier. Modern. A Mac. But still, it doesn’t know me yet.

When I open new documents, it starts out in Helvetica. I type a sentence, maybe two. An inspired, I’m a writer-on-the-cusp-of-greatness feeling buzzing at my fingertips, except the letters in front of me are tall, straight, tight letters. Helvetica. I try to keep writing. The words don’t look like my words. My brilliance has to pause. My creative writerly flow halted when I have to change the font to Georgia.

I have tried to make Georgia the default font. But this laptop, this Macbook, it loves itself some Helvetica. Maybe it will always feel new. Maybe it will never completely know me. Or maybe it will some day. But, by then, will I have switched again? No longer Arial, no longer Georgia, could I possible become Palatino?

Back in the Saddle

I know, I know ...where the hell have I been? Too much has happened since I last posted to play catch up (and lets be honest, I'm too lazy).

But here are somethings that I've been contemplating lately (I almost said ruminating, but then I'd feel like I was stealing from Aaron Karo)

On election night I was called an elitist by a McCain supporter (and at the time I thought a red stater - but in the end Indiana went blue - Go Indiana!). My question is, can you be an elitist if you voted for a minority (and especially if you voted on the issues and not because of some white liberal guilt)?

They day after the last election, that pointless and dangerous re-election of Dubya, I felt an overwhelming sadness. I was so disappointed in the human race. I was, at the time, in the very blue state of New York and in the very liberal borough of Manhattan, and working at a liberal Internet company (and the greatest company ever). I remember the permeating feeling of disappointment in the office. We were all disillusioned.

Then Obama 08 happened. I still cry when I see clips of his acceptance speech. The sense of glee from reporters, the (literal) partying in the streets, the euphoria every where was amazing. THEN, facebook statuses happened.

I grew up in the (once red) sort-of-southern (depending on what county) state of Virginia. And went to college in the (once red - yeah! Now blue!) southern state of North Carolina. I have always known many a conservative but was shocked by some of my facebook friends facebook statuses the day after the election. Like "disappointed our next president thinks that babies that are 'mistakes' should be aborted to not 'punish' the mother" and "Sad and disillusioned" WTF. Really? REALLY? I mean... REALLY?

In the end, ridiculousness will always exist.

Also, what the hell is up with Prop 8 and California? And what the hell is wrong with gay marriage? I do not understand why gay marriage is a threat or an insult to marriage. Let me be clear, I understand the arguments being made. It's not that I can't grasp them from an intellectual stand point. It's from an ideological, emotional, humane perspective that boggles my mind. How does Ellen DeGeneres and Portia Derossi being married take anything away from my Grandparents marriage? To me adultery and divorce are a greater insult.

And WTF with the Mormon church? Couldn't money be better spent? And I say this having many a Mormon in my family. My brother was recruited - during his dark days of illegal activities and drug use - and I have many a niece and nephew who are Mormon. I love them. They are amazing kids (and now most of them- adults) and have been through some incredibly crappy times (including losing their mother when they were young) but I struggle with their religion and their politics. Yet, they, god love 'em, accept me for the heathen that I am. But, they have gotten married and divorced. One before she was 21 (married that is, the divorce was after). Again, how isn't that a greater insult than gay marriage?

In the end, I recognize that the philosophical difference is that I don't think homosexuality is a sin. It is not a moral issue for me. And I know that the bible is used to argue against it. But COME ON kids...that's Leviticus. You can not pick and choose bible passages to justify your prejudice. That's just unchristian.

I liked Keith Olbermann's rant. (HufPo)

And, I'm addicted to Nymag.com's news blog Daily Intel (DailyIntel)

Also, I have a confession, I watch The View. I know, I know. She infuriates me, and I even yell at the TV when she talks, yet I am missing Elizabeth Hasselbacks blind, idiotic support of the republican party. I loved how passionately dumb she can be. How annoyingly black and white. How ridiculous. I love to hate her. And I miss the craziness of her yelling at Joy Behar and Whoopi and even when Barb WaWa, while trying to remain nuetral, would catch herself telling Elizabeth she's an idiot. It's a sickness. My joy in it, kind of like watching the Pallin Katie Couric interview.