Bush Haiku

This is a poem made up entirely of actual quotations from George W. Bush, arranged for 'aesthetic' purposes, by Washington Post writer, Richard Thompson. This will certainly make you laugh...and then make you cry a bit about the dumbass running our country. My favorite is "I know that human beings and fish can coexist" So touching...

MAKE THE PIE HIGHER!

I think we all agree, the past is over.

This is still a dangerous world.I

t's a world of madmen and uncertainty

and potential mental losses.

Rarely is the question asked

is our children learning?

Will the highways of the internet

become more few?

How many hands have I shaked?

They misunderestimate me.

I'm a pitbull on the pantleg of opportunity.

I know that the human being

and the fish can coexist. (??)

Families is where our nation finds hope.

Where our wings take dream.

Put food on your family! (???)

Knock down the tollbooth!

Vulcanize society!

Make the pie higher!

"Puberty is a phase, 15 years of rejection is a lifestyle"
~Stanford Blach

Genius...

as always

Friends, comedy, drinking and strippers

This past weekend was filled with delights. It is one of those weekends where you know that you made the right decision to move to the city. Although nothing terribly special happened, I know that I loved being in my apartment and I loved being with my friends. It isn’t very often that we can reassure ourselves that we made the right choices in our lives however this weekend assured me that I should be ever so grateful to be where I am and have my loved ones surrounding me.

Jim and I took in a show…he was kind enough to take me to see “Second City: Disgruntled Employee Handbook” which was quite cute and certainly did make me laugh. After the show we spent a greater part of the evening at Portillos talking. I enjoy any time I get to spend with him and it is so nice to do so because he is one of those people that you feel like can do anything with and you will have a great time. I never really feel like I have to be a certain way around him. He is trying to convince me to learn to ski and I just do not think that will work out in his favor…nice try on his part, though.

As for the picture in the last post, it didn’t get quite as crazy (no BFFs drunk on the floor) but Sat. was hysterical. Let me tell you what I learned from the drinking hours of 9pm-3am (because let’s be serious we LOUNGED around the house before that)

-As much as we hate to admit it, we have gotten older. Hangovers come with greater frequency and strength.
-Despite that age, “Mean Girls” is still an excellent movie
-Mindy still pukes and rallies mid-day
-Martha Stewart’s recipe for Sangria is a little stronger then one might anticipate
-The BFF and I rock at Trivial Pursuit
-Anne really does live F-ing far away and it is impossible to get to unless sober
-As lovely as I am sure it can be, I never want to live far away from the Brown line or Red line because my lazy friends will not visit me.
-We really are Jackasses, Anne.
-Sven and Anne apparently know each other
-Despite what one might think, Andersonville is a fun place to go out
-There is a beer that has orange elephants as its symbol
-If you do not know what beer I am talking about you can come and look at the glass I stole with the little elephants on it
-There is a guy living in this city whose real name is “Haji Outlaw”
-Haji Outlaw has my number and thinks I am cute
-My friends do not recognize when I am giving them the “come save me” look
-I do not know how to give out fake numbers and apparently cannot think on my feet
-Unbeknownst to me, there is a strip bar in the middle of Andersonville with a very very hott stripper/dancer working there
-Apparently strippers/dancers DO get turned on by people putting money in their waist bands (I was not one of those people but the BFF totally was)
-No matter how classy a bar might seem, once there are half-naked men and poles involved it turns to trash
-Sometimes I do not have the ability to tell if someone is a man or a woman
-The stripper bar in Anderson is now missing a set of keys with a green flower key chain attached that is on the hook in our hallway.
-Nothing can wake the BFF, Mindy or Brett up once they have passed out. (no wonder why all those skanks were able to live together over the summer!! Oh so kidding!)
-I love my friends and no matter how long it has been since I have seen them, we are always able to just fall right back into place and have a great time.

So-there is the list-although I am sure I learned more...in my drunken stupor I just forgot.


Italian Phrase of the Post:

No, I do not like women
"no, non amo di donne"

Is there a dollar in your pants or are you happy to see me?
"chè un dollaro nei suoi ansiti o sei felice di vederme?"

will this be how it is?

The Arrival of the BFF and Minda

Brett and I have two sassy little friends coming into town this weekend and although I plan to keep it relaxed and calm, ultimately when we hang out with these two things get crazy. Last time we were together was the “random guy I don’t know your name in Berlin” night.

Adam, Mindy, Brett and I all worked together for years in college. We spent our time in the summer working during the day and then going out at night. Like most of us in the position at the time, we got past the “I work with you to much, so I don’t want to see you socially” concept and moved full force into “Let’s spend all of our time together” line of thinking. The summer after my junior year, my entire senior year and the summer after my senior year of college is filled with crazy memories of these guys.

Adam, better known as the BFF, is a charmer from the beginning. Regaling us with stories from Harvard, Illinois, you cannot help but fall in love with his easy smile and capacity to care. He really is the nicest of the bunch but that does not make him lack for a good time. When you get him drinking he really gets going. We became “BFF”s when he said (in an incredible drunken slur) one night, “that was funny, I think we should be BFFs”. We had barely spoken 10 words to each other, but from there on out we had the BFF bond. When he came to visit us that last time he said to a bartender at some bar in boystown “I’d like a dirty martini please…extra dirty” apparently said in a very “sexy” and “seductive” voice…well what he thought to be so in a that state of inebriation. He is such a great time; those of you that will not meet him should be severely disappointed.

Mindy (or Minda as we like to call her) is the craziest sorority girl you could ever meet. She is everything you might think a sororitude to be…but in such a good way. Not only is she brilliant, she is fun, blond, and loves to drink. Mindy can always be counted on for a good time…even if she isn’t up to it-if someone needs to get drunk-Mindy will take one for the team and go out! My craziest times senior year involved Minda. We constantly went out and I do believe that she is the demise of my GPA my last year in college. She loves everything fun and alcoholic but whether she is in “party girl” mode or not, she is lovely and kind.

This weekend looks to be trouble. I don’t like anticipating it for fear of ruining the spontaneity. Tomorrow is Anne’s “Wasted Debauchery Part Four” party and we will all be attending. The theme of the party is to incorporate “Four” into your wardrobe. Any suggestions would be much appreciated!! Here’s to good times for all!





Italian Phrase of the Post:
Make it extra dirty
"farlo più sporco"

I will not get in the police car
"non entrerò nell'automobile di polizia"

YAY!!

JIM GOT A JOB!!

There is not much else to say right now, but I was so excited that I thought I would post it. I had no other outlet of celebration.

I am super excited that he will be working in the city and hopefully living in the city soon! He will be very busy and important (ala Bridget Jones) at the Attorney General’s office.

WooWoo! YAY for James!!

Italian Phrase of the Post:

Since I didn’t do one at the last post-
You look like a dragonfly
“lei somiglia a una libellula” (I can honestly say that I did not know that was the word for dragonfly)

I am happy you have a job
“sono felice che lei ha un lavoro”

Live in the city
“vivere nella città”

Le Frechy and the Date

Oh the date…well where to begin my friends…where to begin.

Luckily a friend from work lives very close in the loop, so she let me borrow her apt. to change and what not (as I cannot keep my clothes looking nice throughout the entire day I find that I must change for evening occasions) Plus, I woke up late so the hair needed a little fixing…well…a lot of fixing. But I finally got myself under control and I looked pretty cute (no I did not wear the purple dress/red shoe combo from my drawing a few posts back, but I did look sass)

Anyway, the car picked me up on the corner (that makes me sound a bit like a hooker…and I like it!) and the driver-in full uniform-got out and opened the door for me to which I found “the man” waiting for me inside.

He looked great. Clearly dressed from work, he had a suit that I am certain costs more then Brett’s and my rent combined. Great shoes and his hair had a little gel in it with a very European style. All together, the guy that I was borderline attracted to caught my attention. So as I slid in (and I am not a “slider”, so it wasn’t as graceful as I would have hoped) he said I looked “as pretty as a dragonfly” WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?! WTF Frenchy? I kind of giggled and said that I was not familiar with that saying and that I didn’t know how pretty a dragonfly truly was. He assured me that it was a saying in southern France and translated it lost its meaning but it was a very good thing. I seriously doubt that, Frenchy. Seriously. And honestly, I would assume that Dragonflies look the same in France as they do here…and they are not that pretty here…Unless Dragonflies are wearing saucy lipstick and kicky little berets in France, I am not interested in being compared to one…so move on!

HOWEVER that was all washed away when he pulled out a bottle of Champagne (and not the $3.99 Cook’s special at the Jewel) and said that since there might be traffic he decided to bring refreshments. In case you are wondering how to win my affections (and I know many of you are)...Champagne is the first way to go. I am, much like my mother, a Champagne WHORE!! I would drink it 24-7 if the opportunity so arose. So there we are, driving down Michigan Ave sipping glasses of Champagne. I could have gone home right then and I would have been happy.

But no…it continued! We finally arrived at the Four Seasons and there was a table waiting for us. I have stayed at the Four Seasons a couple of times, but I do not ever recall being in their bar/restaurant area. I really enjoyed the decor and could have stayed for days if I was allowed to “people watch” openly. We sat down and he asked me what I would like to drink to which I wanted to say “A Bud Light please” (all the while laughing to myself b/c I knew that Brett would kill me for even thinking that!) but instead ordered a Berry Martini. Oh the delight on my tongue was unlike anything that has ever touched my little taste buds before. I really think that I might have fallen in love with the Berry Martini…I like to think that I was on a date with martini instead of the guy.

So there were great drinks (obviously since I have continued on about Berry for the past paragraph) and very interesting conversation. I really enjoyed speaking to him about everything and fell right at ease. I had anticipated that he might be a bit snobbish or perhaps a little high brow, but really he was very sweet and down to earth. We talked about his time in France and his job and then had an opportunity to talk about my position. Turns out he was a researcher when he first began (for Human Rights Watch nonetheless, which is my favorite organization EVER!) so we were able to discuss some of my research and publication experience. The drawbacks are the age and the life experience. Each of his being so much greater then mine. However, amidst our conversation were more drinks and a light dinner…lasting quite into the evening. Knowing that he had to go back to work after this little date I kept suggesting that we part ways, but it did not seem that he was ok with that. So we continued to chat but finally the date had to end…

I was going back to my friends place (to inform her of the evening and to change back to appropriate clothes) so he took me there in the car and asked if I would like it to pick me back up to take me home… “no” I said with a Scarlett O’Hara sigh, “I can make it home alright”. So he left with a sweet kiss on the cheek (I am a first date prude, people. Call me Charlotte York, but it is not something I do) and a promise to call…which he did…15 minutes after I left to A) make sure I didn’t need a ride home and B) say that he had a lovely time and would like to set up another date. He is traveling back to France tomorrow for about 5 days, but maybe after that he will call.

Really, it was lovely. Was he the man I am going to marry? Certainly not. However, as Jen and I have discussed, I do not have qualms with the idea of being a trophy wife/gold digger. We will probably go out again because I think of this as an adventure and if a decision needs to be made as to the serious of this nonsense, eventually it will be made. I am sure he will tire of me before that happens as I cannot imagine I am really his kind of girl. But, for the evening I felt like a little princess and enjoyed being on a real date (even though I don’t often consider myself a “real date” kind of girl) Maybe you could say I felt a little bit like a dragonfly…







Nope… “drangonfly” still doesn’t work for me, Frenchy.

Drinks with the Frenchy

I have a thing tomorrow. I am not sure what you would call it. Actually, I am pretty sure you would call it a date; I am just not prone to calling things that. I was able bask in the glory of a function for the Chicago Council on Foreign Relations last week. With that, and a crazy gala at work last week, I had the opportunity to meet many important people in the political world. Many of them were ambassadors, consuls, were on former Presidential staffs, lawyers, writers…and the list goes on and on. During this function I had to opportunity to be paired up with a person who works for the French government. (it wasn’t so much an opportunity as much as my boss pimped me out to this lovely young man in hopes of marrying me off) A lovely chap with dark brown hair and hazel green eyes…I found his face almost beautiful at first glance. (and as I do not find even myself almost beautiful at first glace, that was a bit unsettling) As we kept chatting I found that he was not only incredibly intelligent and hilariously funny, but he was down-to-earth and quite sincere.

He is half American and has duel-citizenship. He laughs at my jokes and thought I was quite pretty…more importantly he asked me out, and who am I to say “no” to a diplomat? I have my standards and although they are high, I assure you that anyone of diplomat status already rises quite far beyond them. This already definitely beats the guy who was, by day a CPA and by night a closet cocaine aficionado.

Anyway…where are we going, you ask? Well, let me tell you…Drinks at the Four Seasons. Not a bad start, right? I said over the phone, “great, that is a close distance from work” to which he replied, “no need to worry about distance, I will have my driver pick you up”. Well…and I think you will agree with me…anyone who has the ability to say “my driver” is ok in my book. You might call me shallow, but then again, so would I.

I don’t think much will come of this, as it seems that much never comes of anything like this…but it is fun and a great experience and I would be doing myself a disservice if I passed it up. I will let everyone know how it goes…hopefully very well and hopefully I figure out what I will wear!


Italian phrase of the post:

You may drop me off here, driver!
“lei può farme cadere via da qui, l'autista”

I love Cosmos
“Ti amo Cosmos”

Chris the neighbor...

Brett and I seem to refuse to meet the people that reside in our building. We are about as anti-social as a raccoon in a gaggle of squirrels. This all ended when I met our neighbor on Friday night. The entire time we have lived in our building I have seen him going up and down the stairs and have named him “the whistler”…you can only imagine why. He travels up and down our stairs whistling the same tune everyday (I really wish he would get a new one!) and he delights my ears with the little ditty whenever I am in the kitchen washing dishes. I have seen him by the dumpster and the garage, always thinking he is a bit cute…always wondering if I have just lowered my standards due to the length of time I have been without a boyfriend…but no, I really do think he might be cute.

He lives with two guys that are incredibly hard to describe. “Trekkies” might be the correct terminology at this point. They strike me as the kind that still read comic books at age 30 and if it weren’t because they got kicked out, they would still be living with their mother. They smoke too much and as they pass me on the walkway they stare at my boobs. Eyes up here boys. Therefore, “cute” neighbor has a bit of a disadvantage. I know my friends are weird but if people were to judge me based on my friends, I think that I would pass the test. Him…not so much…no. Not. But then again, I am a beeyoch…so take what I say with a grain of salt.

So “Chris” (I am not trying to protect his identity from the blogging world, I just didn’t listen very hard when he introduced his name and I now find myself in the predicament of not knowing his name) is a lovely guy, who stopped me on the stoop and asked if I would like to partake in his newly bought 6-pack, as we needed to “get to know each other better since we are neighbors”. This sounds like a bad movie waiting to happen, as I write this. But “Chris” was nice and kind and he easily made me laugh (and duh! he shared his BEER!) We chatted a lot of the evening before festivities began. I was very happy to have finally met someone in our building that was not the jackass woman upstairs and her noisy kids. One day I even hope to really know “Chris” by name, but for now, I will continue to call him “the whistler” and hopefully discover the name of the tune he keeps blowing up our stairs.

I think I will have to meet and share alcoholic beverages with all of our neighbors now…sans the woman upstairs…as “Chris” turned out to be a delight!



Italian Phrase of the post (sorry these haven't come lately):

I would love to share your beer
"Amerei dividere la sua birra"

No, I will not make-out with you
"no, non farò-fuori con lei"

*side note "farò-fuori" is a very literal meaning of "make-out", but it works for our purposes. "Bacio" is actually "kiss" and might work better however it is not quite as bold as "make-out"

I am a princess
a bitch
a dork
a hoser
a drinker
a sleeper
a whore
a saint
a recycler
a wastera binger
a crier
a laugher
an adventurer
a homebody
a reader
a watcher
a doer
a kisser
a hugger
a maker
a destroyer
a traveler
a lifer

I am all of these things. This is what you get. Make the choice, but make it soon.

i don't even know what to title this...

The Weekend

Not much craziness this weekend. I had to work on Saturday as we are having a big party for the Institute on Thursday. There are a lot of little preparations that go into something like this and they always pose the greatest problems. It is the little things that get missed and then there you are at 5pm saying “oh shit, I forgot the _____” and you have to run in heels and a skirt all the way back to the office only to return sweating and with a tear in your pantyhose. Yeah, it’s happened before.

So, I worked for a bit on Saturday and then James came to meet me in the city. It was a lovely time spent…he took the initiative to come all the way in to meet me while only have very little time to hang out...it was so nice! He could have just gone home and relaxed (or gardened), but instead he decided to brave the city (and me) and I was delighted with the choice! There isn’t much to do for only a couple of hours in the city. But we walked down to Printers Row (only my favorite place in the world) and hung around in some book stores. There is nothing I love more then a book store. It makes me feel as if all is right in the cozy little world. The smell is incredible...the musty, papery smell…hundreds of books covering topics that I have yet to learn…texts ready to be absorbed. Ever so inspiring and humbling at the same time. It always makes me realize how much I still have to do.

So we just walked around the loop and south loop. I always have a good time with James…it is nice to be with him…I don’t really feel pressure when I am with him. I can just be my dorky-ass self and it seems that he is ok with that.

Speaking of James, he had a softball game on Sun. night at Seward Park…in order to get out of the house, Brett and I decided to go. The park is on the corner of Orleans and Elm. In the Ghetto. Literally. I was unsure if Brett and I would make it out of there. Not the crowd that I am used to dealing with…and how would be protect one another? Brett and I (and again, I know that revelation about me might surprise you) aren’t quite known for our kung-fu abilities! So here we are, the two silliest kids ever, sitting on a concrete block in the middle of the Ghetto. I am talking about how much I hate what this chick was wearing and Brett is discussing the fact that he stole the current shirt is wearing from Ferdie.

Jesus, we were asking to be beat up.

Ohh...but we did come home to a swarm of cops around our neighborhood! Craziness. I am sure it wasn't gun shots ala Anne's neighborhood...(where do you live Anne, anyway? Orleans and Elm?) but it was a lot of po-lice action going on!



Italian phrase of the post:
I do not have any money, please do not hit me in the face.
Non ho qualunque denaro, per favore non colpirme nella faccia

kissy face

I caved...Latin style

I got sucked in…yep, you heard me…I got sucked in. So I wrote the previous entry…blah blah blah I don’t go out anymore blah blah blah. Well that post went down the can a.s.a.p.

I was in the house not planning on going out…but I could feel the spark. You know it, the one where if the right offer comes along (or perhaps there is just nothing good on TV) you will cave. So there I am, watching “True Hollywood Story” on A. and J. Simps…and Brett decides to go out. Damn one down! Then, as I am watching him get ready and thinking to myself “man, maybe I should put on some make-up and go out” I get the call. I definitely shouldn’t have picked up…I enjoyed being in my tank top and sweats! But a night out on the town at a kicky little Latin bar with one of my favorite hottie straight men in Chicago? How could I resist?

So alas, I threw on some clothes, redid the mascara, had a glass of champagne and headed out the door. Yet again I could not just stay home. Why does my apartment shun me so? I swear I am staying home one of these nights…maybe I just need a better movie collection?

On a happier note, we went to Rosa’s and had a great time. Although (and I know this will surprise you) I am not a Latin dancer, we were able to show some peeps up on the ol’ dance floor. (think “Center Stage” when they went to that club after dance practice and all found their inner latin groove and the main character realizes that she really loves dancing and had just forgotten her roots) yeah…that was me…sans the long blond hair and dancer’s body…but you get the idea.

I have been sick all week and I even took a day off of work, but clearly that didn’t stop me from having a little fun tonight. I suppose the reason I don’t stay home is because any kind of social interaction with those that you love is good for the soul. When you have fun-no matter how silly or poorly danced- and when you laugh, you allow a little bit of yourself out into the universe. Karma? Perhaps? I suppose that means that after tonight I am going to have a lot of good things come my way…I laughed my ass off.

Thanks D-I had a great time.



Italian phrase of the post:

“Yes, I speak Spanish. Let’s dance!”
“Sì, parlo lo spagnolo. Balliamo!”



So sorry I don't have a drawing to go along with this...I just can't think of what I could possibly paint. Next post, I promise! (as you can imagine, I did wear the dress and shoes from the previous post out tonight)

Gettin' Crazy at the Homestead!

This is the first weekend basically all summer that I do not have something going on. I am at a bit of a loss (thinking more and more about the Champagne sitting in our fridge) and I have NO idea what I will do with myself.

I was a pretty big partier in high school, in college and just out of college. Constantly out, getting drunk, being social. Although I love to do that, I am just not able to do it all the time anymore. (probably why E! Entertainment did not tap me to host the “Wild On” series) Don’t get me wrong, I can party like La Lohan and dance the night away like Paula Abdul, but it isn’t what I live to do anymore. So what does a recovering night owl do when she is forced to be home for a weekend and has not yet found a hobby? Sure, there are friends to see, museums to visit and the beach to play at during the day but when 9pm rolls around I feel the pressure to go out yet the desire to stay home. As the ol’ roomie is showering, spraying on the Axe, getting his hair did…I start to feel the pull…and then when I make the decision to listen to myself and stay in I feel silly watching TV on a Saturday night. I think “I am not the kind of girl who stays in!”…thinking like that is what gets you into trouble the next time you go out…it is what makes you give guys your number and what keeps you drinking those beers. It is what makes you think that it is a good idea to make-out with that guy with the funny hair and a fantastic joy for everyone to hear you sing and dance. When at Roscoe’s it says “oh that guy really does like girls, it would be a great idea to hit on him” or worst of all it is these thoughts that let you say “sure, I’ll have a shot of Jose”. Bad news for all involved.

The thing is that I really like my life. I don’t need to be social on a Sat. night because I have great friends at work and at home. I enjoy what I do on a daily basis and for the first time in my life I am truly interested in what I do.

Maybe I just need to date someone (or find a friend) who is ok with staying home and hanging out rather then getting smashed at the local pub…

So, do I just accept it? Have I become boring or is it just a part of growing up, working a full time job, having commitments outside of the bar stool?


Italian phrase of the post:
"why don't we stay home and watch a movie instead"
"perché fa non stiamo la casa e guardiamo un film invece"




Isn't that a great dress/shoe combo i am wearing? Height of fashion! Picked it up at Nordies!

On the Streets

I swear that people on the streets of Chicago are as certifiable as my family. I just went to Walgreens…literally a ½ block walk from work…and I encountered the oddest things on the way over. Let me take you through my little walk there and back.

I leave the building and am immediately surrounded by law students on smoke breaks. Not only are they blowing smoke in my face, but they are doing it in a smug and condescending way that law students do everything. I walk a little bit up the street and what do I come to but a lady dressed in all red yelling at a lady dressed in all green…I am not joking! It was like Christmas was fighting with itself?! The ladies were very angry and had no qualms about yelling “f@ck” in the middle of a busy Chicago street on a Thursday. What could you possibly be so angry about on a Thursday?

So, as I passed them I was hit in the boob by a man on a bicycle. Seriously hit-full on-in the breast. Now, I know they are bigger then the average bear and I know that they are delightful looking, but really while passing on a bike must one feel the need to reach out and punch me in my right boob? Is that at all necessary? I looked back with a face of mild disgust, major amusement and complete disbelief. He just waved. Well, at least he was a nice sexual harasser? No different then what happens on a Friday night at the Pub, I suppose…

Thank the lord I get to Walgreens without much more of an issue. I buy my stamps, Charleston Chew, Glamour magazine and head back for the ol’ office figuring that my walk back could not be as bad as my walk there. I was clearly w-r-o-n-g

Heading back there is a homeless woman sitting on the side of the street that called me a “c#nt b*tch”. I am not certain that she was directing this just at me, but the phrase has been used in my presence before so naturally I turned to see who was addressing me (perhaps I figured Brett would be standing there). As this happened a guy walked by to and said “bet you’re not used to being addressed like that everyday” and giggled and then walked into the building next to mine. I learned two things from this a) I must find out who hottie-mchotterson is and marry him as he made me laugh-laugh very hard b) I need to not respond to obscene names yelled on the street as it could cause me to constantly be turning my head in hopes of seeing who is trying to get my attention.

I quickly rushed back to my building-literally almost running. I did notice that Christmas was still fighting and that the law students were still jackasses...

Below is a map of my walk! Drawn just for you :-)

Italian phrase-I forgot!!

OH NO! I FORGOT MY ITALIAN SENTENCE OF THE POST!

How awful of me for forgetting as I certain this is helping you navigate your every day life!!

I am the star of a television show, let us have sex”
“Sono la stella di una mostra di televisione, abbiamo il sesso”

"Wild On Uptown"

Has anyone seen the nonsense that is “Taradise” E’s new Wild On series with Tara Reid? Honestly it is out of control. There are boobs flying everywhere, Tara with very little to cover herself, her comments range no farther then “oh shit” and “I need to get laid”, she is lazy and barely ever participates in the adventures at hand. The show is shit, but I LOVE IT! Honestly, I cannot get enough of it. It is the bad television car accident that I cannot convince myself to turn off.

Last night Tara was in San Tropez. There was a little cameo with the Hilton sisters but mostly it was just drunken Tara. Half of the time she literally could not even stand up.

I pose this question. If Tara Reid can drunkenly host this ridiculous excuse for a TV show, why can’t I? I will give you that “Moladise” does not sound as catchy…nor do I have quite the jugs as La Reid…but I can get drunk and wild with the best of them. It even seems that Taradise is going about as long as I have in the “getting action” department ( I know because it is the very thing she talks about most on this crazy show) I have a vocabulary that rivals her’s and between my “oh shits” and “did you see that”, I could throw in a sentence or two that might keep the more intelligent viewers from turning me off in disgust.

Tara Reid makes Brook Burke look like a Mensa Candidate!

7 things...

Totally stole this from Brett who apparently got it from a Matthew character.

7 things i plan to do before i die
-Travel to Machu Piccu
-Get married and have kids
-write and publish a book
-go to cooking school in Italy
-Finish a PhD
-Become an Ex-Pat
-See whales in Alaska

7 things i can do (I can think of a couple of things I could put on here but won’t due to my brothers not having “eyemuffs” haha kidding!)
-tie a cherry stem in a knot with my tongue in under 5 seconds
-French braid your hair
-speak Italian
-charm the pants off of you-literally and figuratively
-tell you more about Shakespeare then you ever hoped to know
-edit your thesis
-give you the history of the University of Illinois in a 15 minute speech while walking backwards (and wearing an orange shirt :-)

7 things i cannot do
-pee standing up
-stop swearing
-like mushrooms (amen to that Brett)
-get him to like me enough
-find shelves for our apartment living room wall
-speak Spanish (after 8 years of it!)
-find someone rich enough to let me be their trophy wife

7 things that attract me to the same or opposite sex
-freckles across the cheeks, shoulders, or bridge of the nose
-dark hair and green eyes-nice shoulders
-ability to make me laugh
-a penis (I didn’t want there to be any confusion)
-a love for adventure or the spontaneous or danger or the exciting
-the love of literature
***does anyone notice that Brett and I had almost the same attractions…could be some brawling in the ol’ apt?!

7 things that i say most often
-C@nt Head
-Brett, would you…?
-DRAGONS!!
-Let’s go to Jake’s
-Is “Laguna Beach” on tonight?
-mer... aka "the sad sound"
-sexual trafficking

7 celebrity crushes
-adam durst
-owen wilson
-brandon flowers
-jason (from Laguna)
-bradley whitford
-johnny knoxville
-angelina jolie (with little maddie, of course :- )

Barefoot and Pregnant?

The Main Street in Corsonico, Italy. (picture)

I opened my yahoo email today and found that the guy I dated while in Italy, Micheli, has a pregnant wife. I knew that they were married and in Italy it seems that pregnancy follows shortly behind the “I do’s” but I never expected this. I don’t know why it is finally made real for me that he is not waiting around for me to return (not that I was ever going to) that she is walking around in the kitchen I cooked in, sleeping in the bed that was mine for so long, driving in his little Fiat down the hill to Viareggio…It isn’t as if I would like to be with him, I would just rather he was not with anyone else.

I know that I am not the only person that feels this way about ex’s, but I do not understand the selfishness that comes post-relationship. If you have chosen not to be with a person disregarding previous feelings and interactions, then why is it necessary to begrudge them other relationships?

Micheli is a special case for me, I suppose. He saved me in a time of desperateness. When I had no friends, living in a small town in a crazy house, feeling like I wouldn’t make it through my time in Italy, he came along with his broken English and house of refuge. He taught me things that only those 10+ years your senior can…he took me to beautiful places and let me see Italy through the eyes of a native. I learned my Italian from him, bad words and all. He didn’t mind that I was a crazy American girl, he liked that I would drink in a bar with him, he loved that his friends all thought I was adorable. He loved me, and not just because I was different from what he was used to, but because I was me. I was lucky to find him and when he asked me to stay with him in Italy, I seriously considered it. I had said all along to my friends that he was only there for the purpose of having someone to hang out with, that I wasn’t sure I loved him, etc…but looking back, I just might have in some way. I said those things to keep from getting hurt, but I loved him for making me laugh and keeping me safe. I almost stayed, the idea of being in Italy almost keptme there. I am convinced that if I had it would be me that was married and pregnant right now and that thought doesn’t necessarily disgust me as I might think it would. In the end it was my friends and family that brought me back to the States, but I think about how different my life would be if that was not the case. I can imagine my life as an Italian man’s wife, living in his house in Corsonico, going to the market, perhaps finding a job in Viareggio…married and done at 24, deciding to live in a foreign country all of my life. Perhaps I could not have done it. Maybe I could have. I will never know…but what I do know is that I don’t like that someone is living the life that I could have had, and so quickly after my departure.

Maybe I don’t like that someone can be so in love with you and then replace you when it doesn’t work out. Maybe I’m just selfish and want to have my cake and eat it too.

Kind of hard to dream about “what could have been” when the option is no longer there…






Italian phrase of the post:
I do not want to get married
“non voglio prendere sposato”

Bonus:
Stay away from my man
"stare lontano dal mio uomo"

Those Summer Nights...

These past few days have been what the summer should have been all about. Lovely weather, things to do, places to go, people to see. I moved to Chicago in April and although I found that I didn’t really have to adjust (having grown up in the ‘burbs) I didn’t really have a social life. My social life consisted of bar hopping and drinking too much. (and apparently hitting on men at aforementioned BoysTown establishments) But, as of late, I have found very “Chicago-eque” things with which to occupy my time.

Wednesday night my roommie and I went to see Tori Amos in Millennium Park. While I could do without Le Amos, I certainly enjoyed being in the park. It was a beautiful night and the place was aglow not only from the exceptional archetechture around us, but also from the general goodwill emitting from the patrons of the park. We played in the fountain, listened to the music, dipped our toes in the little “wishing river” an had a magical time in the city night. Around 10:30 or so, amidst a potty run we saw fireworks going off over the lake. There is NOTHING I love more then fireworks and to see them on a day that wasn’t the 4th of July, with one of my favorite people in the world, in one of my favorite places in the world…well it was almost enough to bring tears to my eyes. The air smelled fresh and there wasn’t a mosquito to be found. It was the kind of night that you will look back on years from now and smile about the “remember whens”

Last night was another little treat. In the ever faithful quest to find the perfect cupcake, we decided to head on down to the new Cupcake store on Briar. (YUMMERS!) After much time spent being held up on the Red Line-what’s new?-we hopped off at good ol’ Belmont and made our way down. Alas, no cupcakes to be had as they had just run out…but there were free Lemon with Chocolate frosting ones that were being passed out on the street. I am not a proponent of mixing fruit and cake, but this was actually good. The frosting was a fluffy little chocolate cloud in my mouth! Not being fulfilled by the cupcakes, we headed on over to Chipotle and then had a little trip to the ol’ Gap. It was a lovely, everyday thing to do…nothing out of the ordinary…nights like those cannot be captured in the suburbs. It is the exact reason that I live in the City.

So now I look forward to the Labor Day weekend. I feel like we are finally settled…things are looking way up and nights like the past two will keep coming. I guess this is one of those days that it pays to be a single, 24 year old, living in the city.

Help Out

There are a hundred-million reasons why I am a lucky girl. Number one on that list is because I am not involved in the situation in New Orleans. I thank my lucky stars for my current situation, and I pray for those that have lost their homes, families and pets. People in New Orleans have not only lost their material belongings but they have relinquished their sense of safety, control and their hope for a brighter tomorrow. They deserve our love and care. This was a disaster and the people of New Orleans and other affected cities have been betrayed by the government. It is our turn to help them…this is the time when we can show that we are not a country divided by Race, Color, Creed, Red and Blue States…we need to help. They have nothing.
The McCormick Tribune Foundation has pledged to match 50 cents on every $1 for the first 2 million dollars. On top of that they have stated that they will pay their administrative costs…so ALL of the money donated will be sent down south!

Check it out and donate if you can...

Give a little relief

"Totally Outrageous" Roos

UnderRoos were a marvel at the tender age of 6. When I donned my Wonder Woman Roos I felt like I inhabited the body of that character. I could fight evil, bring justice to the world, and have as much Chocolate Milk as my little 6 year old body could handle. Nothing could go wrong in your Roos and for some reason it was ok to be dressed in only those underwear, running around the house playing “cops and robbers”. I need a pair of adult UnderRoos now, more then ever. Wouldn’t it be great it we could easily slip on a pair of undies that would give us the confidence to be the person we need to be for the day? I believe that today my Roos would be “Jem and the Holograms” as I need to feel that “rock-star” vibe. A little extra boost would be nice. Although I could refrain from running around in just the “Jems” and playing “cops and robbers” (that might weird Brett out), I could feel that surge of energy. Sometimes I feel like we try to replace that innocence and youthful vigor that something as silly as undies gives you, with things like caffeine and alcohol. So as I sit here and drink my Starbucks and think of where I am going to go out tonight, I wonder if the same effect could be obtained with a carefully selected pair of fun underwear. Where are you UnderRoos when I need the courage to tell someone I like them or the audacity to stand up to my boss? You were wasted on my youth and times of ease!







Italian Sentence for the day:

I like your shirt. Do you want to make-out in the dressing room?
Mi amo la sua camicia. Lei vuole il “make-out” nel camerino?
*Bacio (kiss) can be substituted for “make-out”, but for some reason most Italians understand that phrase! Too much MTV!

Sidenote-you never know where you will use these kicky little things…We were in the Gap last night on Broadway. As I was waiting for Brett to come out of the dressing room I heard a supa-fine guy speaking in Italian! Soo…I got to use my language skills to wow him J (I wish I could have used my other skills to wow him as well!)

BoysTown Booty?

You would think that being a straight girl living with a gay roommate in the “gayest zip code in Illinois” (thank you Andersonville) would be a hindrance to my finding someone. That has not proven to be so, thus far. I adore Boys Town…there is no better place for a girl with a nice rack. Seriously. The bars are amazing, the music is fantastic and the men are H-O-T-T! Who cares if they don’t want to sleep with me, eye candy is always welcome! I have found as of late, that it is not hard to find a little somethin’ somethin’ lurking in the crowds at Roscoe’s or Berlin…that’s right ladies…straight men about. I was discussing the odds last night…5 nights out in Boys Town and 3 men have asked me for my number. Now, neither have turned out to be “the one” but that is a 60% rating for those nights…that isn’t bad when you are actually out in a homosexual neighborhood looking for heterosexual men. It adds a little something to the night. I don’t care who you are, you like to be appreciated…and while out having a good time it is nice to be appreciated (albeit tastefully) There was Jeff (I think that was his name) whose name I could not remember after a night out at the bar (PRIDE weekend and I as ever so wee-diddly wasted) Only my roommate knew the guy’s name the next day and I have no idea how he ever heard it in the first place. Then, the other night (unbeknownst to me) I gave my number to the German man…Dwayne. A lovely sprite of a man filled with silly accents and hand kissing…I vaguely remember him being charming and have found his recent text messaging to be enjoyable. The other one isn't worth mentioning, but it is good for the percentage. haha. It has been pretty goods odd there on old Roscoe and Halstead…I should frequent it more often, obviously.

Clearly the other part of this equation is to be supa drunk compliments of those kicky pitchers of vodka and lemonade they serve at Roscoe’s. Devils!

Italian Pi

I finished “Life of Pi” not to long ago and it has since sent me into a crisis of faith and the human condition. There is no book that has ever made me feel as anxious and betrayed at the end. I am horrified and disturbed. I was an English major…I spent 4 years praying to the literary Gods and that came out of no where. I think I am losing my touch…I have become too naive and I found myself hung out to dry. Shocking that there are still books in the world that can do that. You would figure that after all of the great works that have been written and all of the archetypes exposed, that there would still be a literary piece that could knock you on your ass.
It is good to know that there are authors out there honing their craft and producing pieces that allow a character such development.

Although disturbing, it was filled with excellent prose and superior verbiage, the story sucked me in. I often have the problem that I become invested in characters and storylines so that when I am finished with a book I feel a sense of loss. Clearly this happens, as I finished “Pi” about a month ago and I am still talking about it.


On another, and very unrelated note, a year ago on July 16th I returned from a fantastic travel through out Europe. I was an AuPair for 7 months in Italy and then traveled in England, Wales, Holland and Switzerland. I have decided that I will write more about this later; however I am going to teach the blog an “Italian word/sentence a post”. I need to bring back my Italian skills and this is a good way to review my vocabulary (and give a delightful little lesson in the language of love!) So tune in to see what this wacky girl will teach you as she continues on this journaling journey…

Today’s all important sentence:
My beer is warm, may I have another one?
la mia birra è calda, potere ho un altro un?

Bonus (and very loose translation):
Themes from the in-crowd
i temi dalla in-folla

Use it friends…people will surely be impressed.