I almost got peed on by a crackhead this morning on the El.
Some splashback may have landed on my shoe, but I can't be sure.
Jealous?
Friday, March 28, 2008
The Friday Song
This one goes out to Stef. She knows why.
Here's to hoping you found some peace....
Down the street you can hear her scream "you're a disgrace"
As she slams the door in his drunken face,
And now he stands outside and all the neighbours start to gossip and drool.
He cries "Oh girl, you must be mad,What happened to the sweet love you and me had?"
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green.
And so castles made of sand, fall in the sea, eventually.
A little Indian brave who before he was ten,
played war games inthe woods with his Indian friends,
and he built a dream that when he grew up,
he would be a fearless warrior Indian Chief.
Many moons passed and more the dream grew strong, until tomorrow
He would sing his first war song,
And fight his first battle, but something went wrong,
Suprise attack killed him in his sleep that night
And so castles made of sand, melts into the sea eventually.
There was a young girl, whose heart was a frown,
Because she was crippled for life, and couldn't speak a sound
And she wished and prayed she would stop living, so she decided to die.
She drew her wheel chair to the edge of the shore, and to her legs she smiled
"You won't hurt me no more."
But then a sight she'd never seen made her JUMP AND SAY
"Look, a golden winged ship is passing my way"
And it really didn't have to stop...it just kept on going.
And so castles made of sand slips into the sea, Eventually
Here's to hoping you found some peace....
Down the street you can hear her scream "you're a disgrace"
As she slams the door in his drunken face,
And now he stands outside and all the neighbours start to gossip and drool.
He cries "Oh girl, you must be mad,What happened to the sweet love you and me had?"
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green.
And so castles made of sand, fall in the sea, eventually.
A little Indian brave who before he was ten,
played war games inthe woods with his Indian friends,
and he built a dream that when he grew up,
he would be a fearless warrior Indian Chief.
Many moons passed and more the dream grew strong, until tomorrow
He would sing his first war song,
And fight his first battle, but something went wrong,
Suprise attack killed him in his sleep that night
And so castles made of sand, melts into the sea eventually.
There was a young girl, whose heart was a frown,
Because she was crippled for life, and couldn't speak a sound
And she wished and prayed she would stop living, so she decided to die.
She drew her wheel chair to the edge of the shore, and to her legs she smiled
"You won't hurt me no more."
But then a sight she'd never seen made her JUMP AND SAY
"Look, a golden winged ship is passing my way"
And it really didn't have to stop...it just kept on going.
And so castles made of sand slips into the sea, Eventually
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Roll away the dew
Morning routines in my apartment are pretty typical. I get up before Matt, make coffee, feed Mojo and Karma, and hop in the shower. By the time I have dried off and had a cup of coffee (thus making me much more pleasant), Matt has gotten up. I get dressed and start the process of drying my hair (it takes FOREVER) while Matt gets ready to head out. Sometimes, if I actually move my ass in the morning and get the dog out, Matt and I leave at the same time and head out to work together.
Other mornings, I am lazy and as Matt is leaving, I am only just taking out the dog. Since I don't have to be at work as early as he does, it works out and Mojo and I take a leisurely walk around the block. Rather, I take a leisurely walk and Mojo frantically "checks his messages" (Read: smells other dog pee). Today was one of those lazy mornings. I walked out with Matt and saw him off towards the bus stop as Mojo and I went on our merry little walk.
We got back to the apartment and I promised Mojo his "Good Boy treat" as I reached in my pocket for my keys. Nothing. No keys. As panic set in, I prayed for my cell phone. No cell phone. Shit. Matt was already well into downtown by that point and probably wouldn't be able to turn himself around even if I could get a hold of him. I knocked at the door hoping a neighbor might hear. Nothing. Shit. Shit.
Not knowing anyone in the neighborhood, I felt uncomfortable knocking on the door of a stranger, dog in tow, asking to use a phone. Having no other option, Mojo and I headed in the direction of the coffee shop about a block away. While I was too embarrassed to ask a neighbor for help, I had no problem peeking my head into a busy local coffee shop (holding Mojo out the door with my free hand) and loudly requesting that I use their phone as I was locked out with my dog. Some people snickered, some looked at me with pity, and some just stared blankly.
Thankfully, the man behind the counter was very friendly and allowed me to use his cell phone to call my Mother (who has a spare set of keys thank-you-God). He even let me bring Mojo in to the doorway so he didn't have to stand outside in the cold. (Remind me to go order a latte tomorrow and leave the guy a HUGE tip)
My Mother answered her phone and after some well-deserved teasing about my becoming more like her everyday, she came to help me out. While we were waiting - it began to rain. Of course it couldn't just drizzle - no - it was that nasty cold snowy rain, the likes of which can only be found in Chicago and Hell. So here we were. Locked out. Wet. Cold. Miserable.
I eventually got to work, and I can only imagine what else this day is going to vomit all over me. I have a feeling that it won't be pretty.
Other mornings, I am lazy and as Matt is leaving, I am only just taking out the dog. Since I don't have to be at work as early as he does, it works out and Mojo and I take a leisurely walk around the block. Rather, I take a leisurely walk and Mojo frantically "checks his messages" (Read: smells other dog pee). Today was one of those lazy mornings. I walked out with Matt and saw him off towards the bus stop as Mojo and I went on our merry little walk.
We got back to the apartment and I promised Mojo his "Good Boy treat" as I reached in my pocket for my keys. Nothing. No keys. As panic set in, I prayed for my cell phone. No cell phone. Shit. Matt was already well into downtown by that point and probably wouldn't be able to turn himself around even if I could get a hold of him. I knocked at the door hoping a neighbor might hear. Nothing. Shit. Shit.
Not knowing anyone in the neighborhood, I felt uncomfortable knocking on the door of a stranger, dog in tow, asking to use a phone. Having no other option, Mojo and I headed in the direction of the coffee shop about a block away. While I was too embarrassed to ask a neighbor for help, I had no problem peeking my head into a busy local coffee shop (holding Mojo out the door with my free hand) and loudly requesting that I use their phone as I was locked out with my dog. Some people snickered, some looked at me with pity, and some just stared blankly.
Thankfully, the man behind the counter was very friendly and allowed me to use his cell phone to call my Mother (who has a spare set of keys thank-you-God). He even let me bring Mojo in to the doorway so he didn't have to stand outside in the cold. (Remind me to go order a latte tomorrow and leave the guy a HUGE tip)
My Mother answered her phone and after some well-deserved teasing about my becoming more like her everyday, she came to help me out. While we were waiting - it began to rain. Of course it couldn't just drizzle - no - it was that nasty cold snowy rain, the likes of which can only be found in Chicago and Hell. So here we were. Locked out. Wet. Cold. Miserable.
I eventually got to work, and I can only imagine what else this day is going to vomit all over me. I have a feeling that it won't be pretty.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Wham!
George Michael is coming to Chicago!
The "Father Figure" will be playing at the United Center (walkable from my apartment) on July 9th and I kinda want to go. I mean, how many times in your life to you have the potential to hear "I want your sex" live? I don't think I would be able buy tickets without feeling a little dirty, but I have some hookups and might be able to get some tix for free. Who wants to go? Aunt Becky - you know you sing some "Wake me up before you go-go" pretty much every day of your life - you may be the only friend that would brave the rabid "George Michael Gays" (These are a special breed of gay) with me. Whattya say?
Who else is in?
The "Father Figure" will be playing at the United Center (walkable from my apartment) on July 9th and I kinda want to go. I mean, how many times in your life to you have the potential to hear "I want your sex" live? I don't think I would be able buy tickets without feeling a little dirty, but I have some hookups and might be able to get some tix for free. Who wants to go? Aunt Becky - you know you sing some "Wake me up before you go-go" pretty much every day of your life - you may be the only friend that would brave the rabid "George Michael Gays" (These are a special breed of gay) with me. Whattya say?
Who else is in?
Monday, March 24, 2008
Ask the internet
Alright, internet friends, I need some help. I have very kitschy home design tastes, so admittedly, you may think I am crazy to ask for a design opinion from all of you (who are probably all classy and stuff). However, I am completely torn over a purchase.
I saw these dishes on Overstock.com and I have an itch to buy them. Yes, I have perfectly good dishes already...but these are so retro-glorious that am evaluating throwing caution to the wind in order to *gasp* buy something I don't need. This is seriously weird for me as I am verycheap thrifty.
**Now updated Picture**
I saw these dishes on Overstock.com and I have an itch to buy them. Yes, I have perfectly good dishes already...but these are so retro-glorious that am evaluating throwing caution to the wind in order to *gasp* buy something I don't need. This is seriously weird for me as I am very
So here is the question...do these new potential dishes go with the theme of my dining room better than the dishes I already have, or is it just too much?
This picture is very old - I may post an updated one when I get home - but it gives you an idea about the general design.
**Now updated Picture**
Friday, March 21, 2008
The Friday Song - To my Daddy
As I navigate the world of blogging, trying to find other blogs written by people like myself, I have stumbled upon many themes. Since I am new to the whole regular-blogging thing, I thought that adopting a weekly theme might help me stay motivated to post regularly - and so the search began.
Becky introduced me to an explanation for that 45/365 theme that I see everywhere and I thought of it as very clever and cute but just not me. I have also seen blogs that post pictures on Mondays, post poems over the weekend, or write monthly letters to their children. I thought about trying one of those themes, but alas, I am not a photographer or a poet. I don't have kids to write about, unless you count Mojo, but that post would read something like;
"March 2008
Dear Mojo,
You have gained one pound since my last letter to you. I am beginning to think that your weight gain is more than just a "winter cushion" as the vet suggested. You are my little chunker, and I don't care that you snore like a grown man and drool all over the floor. You are Sexxy and all the bitches want you - fo' realz.
Love, Your Momma"
Let's face it, nobody wants to read that. In fact, a few of you probably just clicked away from this blog in disgust. It's cool. I can take it.
After quite a bit of thought (mostly in the bathroom), I decided that my weekly theme would be "The Friday Song" - wherein I dedicate a song to the person/thing/event of my choosing every Friday.
So without further ado, this week's song is dedicated to my Dad.
My parents divorced when I was two years old and I grew up with my Mother. We moved away from Southern Illinois when I was 6 years old and I saw my father once a month and then spent summers with him. When I was younger, I resented those summers because I would be away from all of my friends and have to socially "start over" every school year. I couldn't be in school plays because weekend visits interfered with time I was able to dedicate to rehearsal. I got my period for the first time while staying with my Dad, when the only person I wanted was my Mom.
As a kid, I always wanted to please my Father, but our relationship was awkward. I don't know that either of us really knew how we were supposed to develop a relationship. Only now, as an adult, do I feel a real connection to my Dad, and I wish I was able to spend more time with him. The time we do have together is still a little weird sometimes, but we have figured out a way to communicate with one another and I really appreciate who he is as a person. I don't know if there is any other thing in this world that can compare to the feeling I get when my Dad tells me he is proud of me.
Sometimes, a song has the ability to capture every feeling and every word that you mean to say, even if you don't know how to say it yourself. This is that song for me and my Dad. I can't listen to it without bawling, but in a good way.
Paul Simon - Father and Daughter
Becky introduced me to an explanation for that 45/365 theme that I see everywhere and I thought of it as very clever and cute but just not me. I have also seen blogs that post pictures on Mondays, post poems over the weekend, or write monthly letters to their children. I thought about trying one of those themes, but alas, I am not a photographer or a poet. I don't have kids to write about, unless you count Mojo, but that post would read something like;
"March 2008
Dear Mojo,
You have gained one pound since my last letter to you. I am beginning to think that your weight gain is more than just a "winter cushion" as the vet suggested. You are my little chunker, and I don't care that you snore like a grown man and drool all over the floor. You are Sexxy and all the bitches want you - fo' realz.
Love, Your Momma"
Let's face it, nobody wants to read that. In fact, a few of you probably just clicked away from this blog in disgust. It's cool. I can take it.
After quite a bit of thought (mostly in the bathroom), I decided that my weekly theme would be "The Friday Song" - wherein I dedicate a song to the person/thing/event of my choosing every Friday.
So without further ado, this week's song is dedicated to my Dad.
My parents divorced when I was two years old and I grew up with my Mother. We moved away from Southern Illinois when I was 6 years old and I saw my father once a month and then spent summers with him. When I was younger, I resented those summers because I would be away from all of my friends and have to socially "start over" every school year. I couldn't be in school plays because weekend visits interfered with time I was able to dedicate to rehearsal. I got my period for the first time while staying with my Dad, when the only person I wanted was my Mom.
As a kid, I always wanted to please my Father, but our relationship was awkward. I don't know that either of us really knew how we were supposed to develop a relationship. Only now, as an adult, do I feel a real connection to my Dad, and I wish I was able to spend more time with him. The time we do have together is still a little weird sometimes, but we have figured out a way to communicate with one another and I really appreciate who he is as a person. I don't know if there is any other thing in this world that can compare to the feeling I get when my Dad tells me he is proud of me.
Sometimes, a song has the ability to capture every feeling and every word that you mean to say, even if you don't know how to say it yourself. This is that song for me and my Dad. I can't listen to it without bawling, but in a good way.
Paul Simon - Father and Daughter
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