macdulla oblogata

The Long Black Veil

2008-08-08T06:21:00.000-05:00

This is a hard entry to know how to begin.

It is one that I really don't wish to write at all, quite frankly, but feel I can't properly continue to write this blog without pausing (at the very least!) to mark this moment. There has recently been a death in my family that has been very difficult...it is still too raw to go into any more personal detail than that. This has developed into one of those life-changing, life-affirming, enlightening, re-evaluating "ah-ha" times that I think has changed my life forever as a person; looking back, it's hard to see that anyone could go through a similar experience and not come out different.

My views on death, life, marriage, parenting and what love means (and I ain't talking about the kind that comes in a Hallmark card) have all been profoundly affected.

Overall, I feel more compassionate and understanding about both family and friends. Through the years, it has always been my tendency to fill the role of peacekeeper in many situations and now I feel more comfortable in that role and find myself stepping up it instead of just eventually "falling" into it.

There is a helpless, terrified sense about how fragile life is that has been hammered home quite clearly....it sounds horrifically trite, but is so very true a sentiment; I would have to assume being at a birth is a very similar experience. In today's world that is so dangerous and mired in cynicism, it is understandable that people don't really dwell on on the whole life/death matter and the plethora of frivolous distractions makes sense; everyone would drive themselves nuts being depressed or in a constant state of terror if they did.

As previously mentioned, it does however put things in perspective and that is something that is acknowledged all too seldomly. This whole process/experience has brought about a whole new framework for which me to view things. I've noticed there tends to be a sense of peace and calmness that settles in now over times that I begin to get stressed or moments of indecision....not right away, but it does come. I shall forever have my moments of fretting mind you, (I'm Jen, Mood swings is what I do!) but it now seems obvious that there is really very little about which getting worked up over is an effective and worthwhile use of one's energies. (Passionate about, yes. again, have you met me?)

It's a bit of a cop out, but I'm not feeling too original at the moment, so to sum this whole bit of rambling up, all I can say is "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff, and it Really IS in the end all Small Stuff."

You date a girl and find out later she smells just like a percolator

2008-07-01T10:05:00.002-05:00

The answer is "498days".

The question is "How long did it take Jen to spill coffee on her desk?"
(For those not in the know, this was quite an impressive streak for me. Also amazing? This time it miraculously managed to miss both the keyboard and the mouse; over the years, no less than 5 keyboards have met with their untimely demise due to my lackadaisical drinking habits!)

Where you drink champagne and it tastes just like cherry-cola

2008-06-27T13:48:00.003-05:00

Hello! Yes, it is really me again.

I could go through 1001 reasons for hiatusing so abruptly (Captaining an MS Ride Team, keeping said team in roughly one piece despite injuries, planning a large meal for 100 in November, handwriting invites to said soiree, finding orthopedically sound wedding shoes...and it goes on), but instead, let's just jump back into the writing shall we?

My name is Jen. I am a caffeine junkie. I love the stuff and would drink or eat coffee frothed, foamed, iced, wrapped in chocolate, whipped in ice cream, swirled in a brownie; I'd even drape myself in it, if it was socially acceptable.

But, I've never been big on soda. There was a brief point in college that I did buy Mountain Dew by the pallet-load. I still hated the taste, but when your academic building is open 24-hours a day, professors give no credence to the novel thought of finishing ones assignments under a conventional 8-hour sleep+16hour class schedule. This was just before the big commercial coffee boom, so there was no spot to stop for a giganta-venti. And, as my "workspace" came furnished with a mini-fridge, it was an all-you-can drink chugfest of the death green bubbly wakeup juice!

Anyhow, today I found one heck of a reason to never touch the stuff again. This past weekend Bosco and I managed to get bike grease on nearly every piece of clothing we had packed for the Bike MS "Tour de Farms". As it was finally time to attack the pile of black goo, I decided to try an urban legend that I'd heard floating around; dumping a can of Coke in the load to dissolve the grease.

Needless to say, it worked wonders and while I am now in awe of Coca-Cola's magical abilities in the detergental arts, the thought of pouring it down my throat ever again gives me the heebie-jeebies!

When you're only having seconds, I'm having twenty-thirds

2008-01-16T16:37:00.000-06:00

Because I'm fat, I'm fat, come on
(Fat, fat, really really fat)
You know I'm fat, I'm fat, you know it
(Fat, fat, really really fat)
You know I'm fat, I'm fat, come on you know
(Fat, fat, really really fat)
Don't you call me pudgy, portly or stout
Just now tell me once again who's fat?

We'll get to that lovely song reference in a second. I have been intending on writing a post for sometime now about the insane Land of Weddings...and, believe me, it is a Land, just not one dreamed up by Mr. Disney alongside Fantasyland and Adventureland (although you can get the matching Cinderella invitations. WARNING: Don't view without a vomit bag!)

This morning was our first viewing of one of the wedding venues we had narrowed things down to The Metropolian Club on the 67th floor of the Sears Tower. Bosco has some really snazzy hookups in the H&T biz and it was only because of that "in" that we even bothered looking, as it is not only high in the sky, but features galactical budgets.

It was very lovely, and as a bonus I got a free trip to the top of the Sears Tower (all the locals go Whoo!) Alas, the "in" brought the price out of the stratosphere, but still way more than practical, no screws loose me could stomach spending on one day. There is another option we're seeing on Saturday, but I'm not posting the name until we have a signed contract---no one is wedding googling, finding this entry and snagging my venue!

Speaking of kooky things, what exactly is it about weddings that turns bright, accomplished, independent women into completely feeble little whisps who fret and frown over whether or not "Acapulco Gold" will still be in for a 2009 event and are reduced to hysterical tears (I can only imagine, based on the frightening emoticons in some of the forum posts I've prowled looking for ideas) upon finding out that the autumn leaf placecards are on backorder until after their event!

And the weight? Oh lordy the weight! I had been hearing about this wedding phenomenon non-stop at my current gig as one of the gals has been a bridesmaid 4 times in the past 3 months.....she's on a perpetual diet, actually CHISELS a pear down over an 8 hour period and still shares the majority with someone else. This is not a large girl, she has no glandular issues; why then would she do this to herself you ask? She didn't want to order a size 10 because she could almost fit into an 8 without alterations if she starved herself. Oh yeah, did I mention she was a Phi Beta Kappa with a Master's Degree?

But, your demure writer has laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of all of these things and sworn that SHE SHALL BE DIFFERENT! SHE SHALL BE STRONG! SHE SHALL NOT FREAK OVER TUSSY MUSSYS!

Until today. Like the lambasted Ms. J Love Hewitt, I am apparently fat.

After lunching with Mr. Bosco and Lady R, I decided to officially start the wedding budget and go purchase the dress I had seen a few weeks ago. I walked in to the store, was a little shocked that my dress wasn't where it was hanging originally, and, with a mere gleam on panic started furtively hunting through the "general stock" rack until I found it....size 4, 6, 8, 10....no 12.

FUN FACT FROM WEDDINGLAND (in case you missed it): Special occasion dresses are made "European" sizes and my svelte size 4 at Old Navy is a 12 in their world.

I asked the sales girl if my dress could be ordered in a 12, when she said "yes", I said I would like to do so, but wanted to try on the 10 real quick just to confirm I liked the style. It was just as magical and just as tight in a couple places....but, hey, that's what alterations are for, right?

My fatal mistake was then wanting to see it in the 3-way mirror and stand on the pedestal outside the fitting room so I could see the drape of it and have a mental image for when looking for shoes.

The sales gal saw me come out of the fitting room, noisily, sucked air over her teeth, raised an accusing eyebrow and gave me a once over, snarking "Oh honey, are you going to lose some weight before the wedding?" KEEP IN MIND, I had already told her I knew I needed the 12 and just wanted to try the 10 on for the style. I pasted on my best Minnesotan smile and carried on chattily with her about how I would gain a lot of muscle tone training for the MS Tour De Farms bike ride & wasn't worried as long as there was plenty of fabric for the tailor. Why in the hell she couldn't have just said "Yes, I think you are right in ordering the 12." Why am I apparently expect to starve myself to fit into what smaller size they have?

I know I should have walked out, but not wanting to give up "my" dress, I went ahead and special ordered it, which took 25minutes, since the clerk was apparently new, and didn't know how to do it. She proceeded to call 7 other stores to find someone to talk her through it because her manager was on lunch and refused to help.

Needless to say, I know I shouldn't feel bad, I know I am a good person and bright and funny and, not that it's a huge (pun intended) thing, but I am petite and not exactly a mudflap in the looks department. But, wow, it does sting and even though my logical side is brushing it off as ludicrous and idiotic there is a smaller side influenced by today's onslaught of skinnymedia that is whispering "Well, maybe just a pound or two...."

*sigh* Can we just go back to the refined era where I was traded for a bunch of goats?

A cat's entitled to expect, These evidences of respect..

2008-01-11T11:34:00.000-06:00

Not in this household!

T.S. Eliot had certainly not experienced the glory that is "Stuff on My Cat" when he wrote his musings on felines.

One of my delightful Xmas presents from Bosco was a desk calendar featuring a Cat-A-Day dressed in whatever the owner could find laying around the house. Using yesterday's cat "Barney" as inspiration and having just run out of paper towels, it seemed only fitting to see if Twyla had the mettle to be a calendar pin-up girl!

I Heard it Through the Grapevine

2007-12-14T06:41:00.000-06:00

Well ladies and gents, mark your datebooks at #171. It took that many entries for me to be called out!

The previous entry was found inappropriate by an interested party and I was asked to censor it and remove comments posted by other readers. While I respect the viewpoints expressed to me by that person, I decline to do so as there is no basis.

It's a sticky business to be sure, as when I began this blog it was on the foundation of honesty at all costs and was intended to be as truthful to real life as possible. Over the past several years, I have used my editor's red pen more than I would have ever thought in the beginning; some tales were not all that interesting in the end, some required far too much setup (including details that would have be inappropriate to write) and others, well hey, I also don't shower with the windows open...a gal has to have some mystique!

For integrity's sake, I've always maintained that no real names would be used (either an initial or a online handle), no images posted of friends/family without their consent and a PG rating would be maintained (at least for language, if not always for content). Also, if there was a comment that failed any of the above criteria was obviously slanderous or an attempt to start a flame war that I would delete it; not liking or agreeing with it would never be a reason.

That said, I was going to post an update to the previous entry (though it was to be attached to ponderings of a much cheerier nature) and will do so now:

12/8 UPDATE: Well, it turns out things did work out and my Mom did email me the information regarding the viewing and funeral in a timely fashion....it's quite nice when one's fears are proven wrong. Unfortunately due to the flippy-flop nature of Chicago weather and an ice storm warning by the National Weather Service it seemed especially unwise to travel via car or bus and quite possible that an attempt to fly would end me up in Springfield-Branson, Bloomington-Normal, Louisville-Standiford or some other twice monikered regional airport from which a quick escape was unlikely. In the end, it seemed best to send a card and not attempt to attend the services.

Four Wedding Dresses and a Funeral

2007-12-08T05:00:00.001-06:00

Let me begin by saying that it sucks the big wazoo that this is the next entry to be logged.

The last 48 hours have been a high speed fun ride of nauseating highs and lows that I find myself still very much in the thick of. Thus, retreating to virtual pen in an attempt to process some of this seemed like a much better alternative than staring at the darkened ceiling of my bedroom.

This all began quite innocently Thursday morning when I met fellow Bridzilla-in-Training "K" out for another round of wedding dress shopping on Michigan Avenue. We had gone to a high-class consignment place a few weeks ago, but found that neither of us had the requisite screw loose required to lay down a couple of Grover Clevelands for real Peau de soie satin with enough beads to put Mardi Gras to shame.

As K's wedding is in June, she is on a much quicker timetable than your humble author who still stands by "No date, decisions or matters of detail until January 1st, 2008." But, it is fun to mock the ridiculousness of the silly dresses and even sillier brides that one finds hovering around said frocks and even more so with someone who shares my dark sense of humor. Arriving at the JMC Boutique we found that we were the only two people in the store, so immediately turned our vengeance on the wall of dresses. It was a delightful surprise that most of the dresses were not horrifically ugly, did not have bows or bell skirts and were ridiculously affordable; a Benji or two and a couple of his lesser denominational buddies. K found a delightful frock quickly, and after filling her dressing room up, started on me. I had no intention of actually trying anything on, but after some cajoling that I should "at least know what shapes look flattering" pulled two off the rack to try on.

SIDENOTE: Wedding dresses are apparently made in "European sizes" and they had dozens in size 2 and 4....my petite self was a size 10/12. Who in blazes wears a 2 then and do they consider gum a meal?

Anywho, K hit a home run in Dress #2 which was just delightful and made her look amazingly feminine, yet very regal. I didn't hate either of the dresses I tried on, but neither really made me feel like a bride; it was like the dresses sensed I had no experience with formal wear and were mocking me. K had already changed back into street clothes and I was ready to go back into hiding for several months, when I decided to try one more off the rack by the dressing room door. It looked rather strange on the hanger and I saw K's eyebrow raise at my suggestion, but she humored me. It was perfect. Every part of me was coddled and draped in the most flattering way possible....I felt like a bride! K was awestruck, and mentioned that if I didn't know that was the one, then I was an idiot; what can I say, the gal adores me ;) But, I needed a bit of time to ponder, so we left the store to grab a coffee and said farewell for the afternoon. After all, I had heard that this wedding stuff was shear torture, could I actually try on 4 dresses and be done with one of the bigger pieces so quickly?

HA! One should never ever tempt fate in such a way.

Thursday evening was the night of my office "holiday" party, and waiting for a train downtown on a chilly platform I decided to bide my time by calling my mother back from an earlier message. After 5 minutes of pleasantries and pressuring me for Christmas ideas, she matter-of-factly informs me that my uncle has died. This was not unexpected as he has been ill for awhile and declining steadily over the past few months. It was a shock that she just laid it out there like a big steaming lump in the middle of the conversation. While she faces death on a daily basis in oncology nursing and thus might be used to it being "normal" conversation, it did seem rather callous to not bring that up immediately upon my calling. But just my 2cents, touché.

In the middle of me pumping her for info "Who, What, When, What Can I Do, etc." she asks me quite sharply "Is Bosco Jewish?", this is about as random a comment as I could have ever imagined being asked. I had never hidden the fact that yes, Bosco is one of the "chosen people" as it doesn't really factor into our lives too much, except around the bigger holidays. But, apparently I was amiss as I should have been introducing him around as "Hi, this is Bosco, my Jewish boyfriend" 'cuz ya know that fact that he loves me for who I am and treats me like gold and doesn't smack me around or yell at me like some drunken oaf....that's not what's really important, he has a different religious upbringing and what a flippin' travesty that is.

Sorry, lost it there for a minute (and the above is the shorter edited rant!)

So, apparently my mother had been at the nursing home at/after my uncle's passing (I'm not sure as that was not the topic of the hour being discussed!) and after mentioning my engagement to the family at hand, one of them queried if this "was the Jewish guy" I had been seeing (my apologies to the relative in question if this is out of context, I am working with 2nd hand pissed off mother-in-law information). My mother claimed she didn't know how to respond and was horrified that she didn't know this key info about her soon to be son-in-law. A barrage of questions followed and I was pummeled for the ones I couldn't answer as "How can you agree to marry someone and not know [insert random nugget of info, ie: Father's hometown]. Hmm. Yes, I realize how many marriages fail because you didn't know where Cricket Corner, New Hampshire was as opposed knowing if your betrothed is in the mob or has syphilis or has 16 split personas!

With that conversation, I had an inkling into what delightful circle of hellfire I shall be entering into the next 9-12 months. Had I bought the dress, I was 2 seconds from returning it and booking the first red-eye to Vegas....and it's still a very attractive escape route. But, it's not what I want. I really do wish for a ceremony with all my/Bosco's friends and family that wish to support us in this endeavor attending, and for it to be a quirky, fun expression of who we are as individuals.....and I have little doubt that our choices will confuse, hurt and anger various famial factions. As the typical "peacemaker" in most situations, it's a ridiculously difficult precipice I find my toes on the edge of. Is it worth the headache to repeatedly play the "It's Our Day" card at the risk of alienating someone (which yes, the thought of unhappy folks eat away at my insides) or worse to sacrifice the beginning of what looks to be a very happy little life to the greater good.

As to the my uncle's funeral, there is no date set to the best of my knowledge. That in itself is a whole other matter as it is a mixed bag of feelings of sadness for those closest to him, relief that he is no longer in pain, guilt for being greedy and wishing to keep my memories of him pure and happy and avoid the awkwardness of deterioration and dementia as I have not seen him in over a year. While I very much wish to attend the viewing and laid out my intentions to my mother, that short of an epic blizzard, I'd find a dogsled and a way to be there. I should, he was not only one of my Dad's closest brothers, but also my godfather. But, there is a nagging feeling though that my mom will call me with the date/time casually about 2 hours beforehand, eliminating all chance for me to attend. It's passive, it's aggressive, it's motherhood at it's finest.

So, until later, a nugget of knowledge while my peptic ulcer has triplets:

From "Encyclopedia of Word and Phrase Origins":
DAMNED IF YOU DO, DAMNED IF YOU DON'T - "Early American evangelist Lorenzo Dow (d. 1834) coined these words while condemning other preachers who 'make the Bible clash and contradict itself, by preaching somewhat like this: 'You can and you can't - You shall and you shan't - You will and you won't - And you will be damned if you do - And you will be damned if you don't.'"

Scenes From An Italian Restaurant

2007-11-27T05:43:00.001-06:00

Yes it's true, Bosco and I are readying our snorkels and getting ready to plunge into matrimony!

This magical moment happened last Tuesday November 20th in the mighty city of Boston's delightfully Italian North End. It was here that B & I were to meet a ex-Chicagoan pal for some dinner (or so I thought!). As his other attempts to woo me for the evening had failed (Top of the Hub was cloudy, and I flat out refused to rest my ankles at the Parker House to get a drink...didn't want us to be late!) he finally coaxed me to sit down for a pre-dinner drink at this nice windowside table.

It was misting out, and I was concerned that our friend S who was driving in from the burbs would reach us safely. This thought swirled around in my head along with snippets of the Sinatra song playing, the fizziness of my drink, our travel to Salem the next day, the meaning of life and about 1 million other completely random things....I almost missed the proposal! But, there was a lovely, sweet as can be speech by Mr. B and a ridiculously sparkly ring box advanced towards me and before you knew it, it was official!

After a really spectacular Italian dinner, complete with a barbershop quartet serenade of "Going to the Chapel" it was on to call, text and carrier pigeon everyone we knew.

For the record, we are not making ANY plans until after the first of the year...really, not a one, no, not even a ponderance of a place, time of year, sort of dress as we have instead chose to bask in the loveliness of engagement for awhile.

For those who would persist in pummeling us with WhoWhatWhenWhereWhys, we will either enjoy watching you bike 75 miles to the MS Century Loop for the ceremony or freezing essential parts off while pushing through the Bering Straits on a moonlight New Year's Eve cruise....we're creative cats, aren't aren't afraid to tear at that hypothetical envelope ;)

But seriously, we're thrilled and excited and if everyone plays nice I may just blog a bit about what is sure to be an interesting journey!

"The stomach is the seat of courage..."

2007-10-06T12:41:00.000-05:00

So, is indigestion the Mephistopheles of the midgut then?

I just ran across one of those dusty tomes from yesteryear called "Cooking for Two: A Handbook for Young Housekeepers" (although it was on Google books, so it lacked some of the joy of finding it in a dusty half-price bin).

Nevertheless, this blast from 1900s injected great hilarity into my weekend morning grocery list making and gave much credence to my earlier moaning to Bosco about being too hungry to do anything, and I quote:

"...and when mid-day is reached neither of you feel willing to do any more work, until you have eaten you mid-day meal. Your energy and motive power are gone. The movements you have made of your own accord in working about the house, but also those made involuntarily by your heart in beating, your lungs in breathing , and your brain in thinking have wasted your stock of energy and worn away tissues of flesh, blood and bones."

And I'M overly dramatic?

Sadly, while devilishly tempted to try something from Chapter IX. "Gelatinous Soups and Jellies: Proteid Sparers", in the end it's back to epicurious.com for me!

But hey, if you are looking for a chuckle or two, check it out more thoroughly. I especially like the "sermonet" at the back; never have I heard the extolling of the benefits of dishwashing for brain stimulation put quite so succinctly (p378).

It's Not Easy Being Cool!

2007-08-07T08:54:00.000-05:00

A Lolla continuation from yesterday:

SATURDAY
Oncemore, the schedule this year produced a lot of filler and nothing really juicy to listen to in the mornings. Bosco really wanted to see Pete Yorn and a folksie singer-songwriter sounded perfect to me, having had my fill of obnoxious frat boys the night before. His set was catchy and melodic, much like his more famous New Jersey brethren, but slow, as if Valium fairy dust had been brushed on the band before taking the stage.

Yet another large gap in interesting music led us to leave the festival and head to the Loop for some lunch; while the festival did have food and it wasn't too overpriced, it's hard to resist a cozy booth and a made to order sub and gooey chocolaty cookie at Potbelly!

We made it back in time to catch The Roots, who sounded pretty good when MC Black Thought wasn't blathering on about the state of rap today; true I am not a huge rap/hip-hop fan and the stage and viewscreen were out of eyeline as we were sitting on a blanket at the back due to the large crowd--perhaps had I been able to see it wouldn't have seemed so long-winded.

Viewing luck changed with the next set (Regina Spektor) which was amazingly located a mere 180° turn from where we were sitting! The sound for this performance was unfortunately quite spotty; though trying to mic a piano and woman's breathy mezzo-soprano voice in a huge festival arena must be a sound engineer's worst nightmare!! From what I could hear, she was very quirky, but in a fun and lighthearted way (let the Tori Amos comparisons stop at red hair and female piano player). Her songs are more like fantastical bedtime stories set to music with loads of clever vocal noises and sounds thrown in for effect. She also performed a cover of "Real Love" (a demo originally recorded by John Lennon) which was simply sweet and beautiful; if you dare to touch work by such a beloved and illustrious artist, this is how to do it!

[HUH? SIDENOTE: There was a very confused and sad fellow holding up a sign for most of the concert informing us that he had run out of weed and wanted to buy more...I was tempted to go inform him that just perhaps a low-key, mostly female attended gig was not his best option when both a reggae band and 60s troubadour with a known penchant for illegal substances were both playing at the same time....but, taking a page from Darwin, I decided to let him evolve to that on his own time.]

On the way to dinner, a stop at the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs was necessitated by a blurb in the program describing lead singer Karen O's habit of "humping" and "spitting" at everything in sight. Sadly, it was only an attempted spectacle and despite effort, I just don't quite understand the group's popularity or the critical raves appearing in the local papers and online. I saw Siouxsie and the Banshees several years ago at the House of Blues and that was a spectacle both in theatrics and vocal dexterity. The Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs felt like a lukewarm copy of them with a ladle of X-ray Spex/Poly Styrene thrown in for good measure. [Insert your best "Back in my day..." anecdote here]

After a hectic dinner (Mag Mile Tourists + Suburban Lolla Kidz= Mass Confusion Everywhere!), it was back to the grounds to hear a dollop of Spoon, which while rockin' to listen to online, quickly disintegrated into the most hated of Lolla animals: The 4-Headed Jam Band. As Patti Smith was also up, a quick dash was made over to her venue to catch the venerable anti-establishment poet laureate. We arrived in the middle of her cover of Hendrix's "Are Your Experienced" which takes on a whole other context when sung by a 60-year old known for doing "everyone and everything worthwhile". The set was very lively and her energy unflagging; there was a wide range of old favorites, some charged political refrains and another quite interesting cover of Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit"---probably one of the first times all the lyrics were properly enunciated. It was a little sad that we were so close for this performance (not more than 40ft), I suppose everyone else was heading for the closing shows of the evening (Muse, Interpol) or out for the night due to the drizzle. It perhaps does reflect the "hipster" mentality of many attendees, just looking for the band of the moment versus a quality performance...although how you can pass on such a historical figure and Rock-n-Roll Hall of Fame inductee is beyond me!

SUNDAY
It is still a wonder that we attended the last day at all, the morning having brought torrential downpours. With live webcasts offered for many of the performers, the pull to go stand in the mud and rain was easy to resist. Nonetheless, as Chicago weather seems so apt to do, by 1pm it was sun and blue sky for as far as one could see. Amy Winehouse was first on our bill and running late (as we were), but did tardily take the stage in the end; a rare treat this summer, as conversations around me recollected her lack of will to perform more than two songs, if at all, for most of her previous shows this summer. The humidity had started to build and the afternoon sun was a blast of heat between brief clouds, so I was torn whether or not I cared if she did end up bailing. In the end, she sweatily did the twist beneath a huge black beehive for a solid full set. It's confusing how all the reviews could call it a "rote, lackluster attempt", it wasn't groundbreaking, but sometimes a performance doesn't need a bunch of bells and whistles (or a DJ Pyramid-take note Daft Punk!) and excess crowd banter; if it had been in a small venue with her as headliner then yes, it would have a little disappointing. For a multi-band event, it was a jazzy and satisfying turn and maybe even a big 'piss-off' to critics who thought she was just a tabloid news diva.

Now for the "illegal" activity I so wrongly built up the other day; as it was hot, we slunk off to a shady spot under a tree in the park and gorged on Trail Mix and water. The water was factory sealed when we entered, which was perfectly legal, but there was no outside food allowed...hence, the contraband healthy treat. It is a signaling of my place in life that lawless activities now feature fruits and nuts smuggled in the waistband of my shorts....so much for being a rebel!

Did I mention the heat yet? The impenetrable, all-encompassing veil of soul-drenching air soup that seems to hit Chicago in August? It had indeed become an insufferable day and Bosco was kind enough to procure me an ice cream from the Grant Park Bobtail Cafe; the festival vendors did have ice cream, but it was all vegan...some things should just not exist, and dairy-free chocolate ice cream tops that list!

After a few rounds of "The Water Game" in which the goal was to turn your opponent into a drippingly cool pile, a tromp back north to catch the end of Iggy and the Stooges was in order. This was somehow one of the critics most lauded reviews of the weekend (???), but we showed up as anarchy was unfurling in the form of a crowd being thrown off the stage after being invited up to dance with Iggy (how does this sound like a good idea????). It was loud and dissonant and exactly what the band supposed to be...unfortunately that was lost in fervent cajoling to get everyone back off the stage, Iggy then started to rambling about something--I couldn't tell what exactly as it was lost in the cacophony of the band who was still steadfastly playing on.

Yo La Tengo + major soundsystem issues + extended instrumental jam = early dinner break

I know I'm a snot for not seeing the above through, but sweltering en-masse with some very fragrant folks made my patience for waiting for them to find their groove wilt against the draw of air-conditioning, even if it was Day 2 at Bennigan's!

The finale of the weekend was to be Pearl Jam. I really could have cared less about this one, but Bosco is a huge fan and also a former Seattle occupant, so I sucked it up as I am sure there are shows I wanted to see that he patiently sat through with no complaint. Wisely, we scooped out a spot near what we thought the "back" of the crowd would be and with a view of the big screen for our blanket. Things would have been lovely, had a rotund fellow not decided to stand at the front of the "blanket section" right in front of the screen. It didn't really matter as once the show started everyone on the blankets stood up----I could try and figure out the logic here, but that could take awhile. Good karma struck as we headed even farther back from the swarm, as the promoters, probably fearing a crowd-crush, had put the show feed up on one of the other unoccupied stage screens. Blanket spread oncemore, we settled in to enjoy the show...until a long line of idiots paraded in front of us to tape, stand, make-out and even attempt a backflip in front of the screen. Much moving of our blanket and increasingly louder cursings ensued. Then, Mr. Veddar decided to get political and start launching into a chant about BP/Amoco's dumping of waste into Lake Michigan...which turned off many people who then left. My favorite comment was by a large, drunken, bare-chested lad wearing a bra on his head and dragging his completely blitzed girlfriend behind him: "We paid to hear you sing, I don't wanna hear no politics, it's not an election or nothing."

I think both Eddie and Bra-Man both make excellent points. It would be hard to be a celebrity that has passionate beliefs and state them in any way that doesn't come off as preachy. Also difficult is laying down hard-earned cash to be entertained and being told how bad and depressing the outside world is because you're not helping enough.

At 9:30, all evangelizing aside, it became obvious the best of the show was over and time to start heading home with all the other weary souls as it was a school night. Hearing about the even bigger soapboxes that were trotted out after we left, it became a very sensible decision indeed.

Looking back, in the end it was well worth what we paid (just under $4per band) and a very agreeable weekend diversion! I doubt I'd feel the need to go again unless the ticket prices were dropped or discount passes came my way again as for what most people coughed up, it was a fairly boilerplate sort of event with only a few anomalies to keep it from being ho-hum.

It's Not Easy Being Green!

2007-08-06T00:18:00.001-05:00

Lollapalooza 2007 tried to be green this weekend...and unintentionally turned me a lovely shade of it too! I can only hope the sheer lack of resiliency of any of the inks used on festival schedules, wristbands and environmental graphics was due to their being soy-based and not 'cuz the promoters wanted to cut costs for another buck or two! (The lovely emerald pallor on my shoulder was courtesy of an informational tower slimeing me whilst I crouched against its shady bosom!)

It was a pretty excellent weekend overall, especially at the discounted price of $60; that was thanks to incredibly lovely gal H deciding to be out of town again this year and letting me and Bosco buy her tickets off her for a donation to her Grand Canyon Leukemia & Lymphoma Charity Hike.

FRIDAY
Friday started out pretty low-key, having snagged a day off work I preferred to sleep in instead of rushing down to see any of the morning newbie acts. Sauntering in around 2pm netted me a few delightful tunes by Ted Leo and the Pharmacists which was every bit the tuneful energetic punk-pop that the reviews had suggested. After snagging a couple of day-glo orange personal necklace fans at the AT&T "Media Center" I headed over to catch the end of Son Volt---yes, the pitiful attempt of a mammoth and unhip corporate sponsor to beg for my business was obvious as their "cool" graphics circa 1997...but it was a free pocket fan; I'll walk through air-conditioned gimmicky pandering for that on a hot day!

Amazingly, I ended up at the Son Volt stage just as Jay Farrar launched into "Drown" one of my faves by them a hooky alt-country strummer. After another tune or two, they closed down set and I headed over to Charlie Musselwhite, the supposed "inspiration" behind Dan Akyroyd's Elwood persona. Not to spoil the rest of the post, but this was my most favorite set of the weekend, hands down! Hard-grooving blues harmonica in hand, dressed from head to toe in black (a ballsy move for a sunny day in the high 80s!) he rocked, shimmied and tooted his way through one hell of a set. I was shocked to be standing within 15 feet of the stage for such a superb performance--in this case it worked to my advantage that the hipsters were all off seeing the "it" band of the moment, leaving me this soulful morsel to digest! It should be also noted at this point, that I was a little taken aback that all my musical choices to this point were heavily attended by males aged 25-40 (almost exclusively all-male at Charlie Musselwhite)---it made me question how exactly my tastes were so seemingly masculine!

There was, as always seems to be, a sound-bleed problem and the end of the set when The Polyphonic Spree took the stage to the North---I did head over there eventually to check out the spectacle the claim to be and I must admit I turned away at the shear volume, it was WAY too loud (yep, get those old folks jokes at the ready!) and I hadn't thought to bring ear foams. I retreated shady spot close to the fountain and nearly 250 ft away where I could still hear them perfectly clearly to catch up on some short story reading and await Bosco's arrival from work. They did a really atrocious Nirvana cover of "Lithium"---I believe the Chi-Town Trib called it "optimistically inspired"....in a weekend with more covers than bikini-clad nymphets it was a campy attempt at globbing onto a song from a groundbreaking album that came out while most of the audience was learning how to love from Barney.

Bosco showed up to join me briefly for moe. who seemed promising from the downloads, but ended up turning their set into a jam session---an all too common occurrence for Lolla bands, both this weekend and when I went in '05! We caught a bit of G. Love and Special Sauce (always a personal fave!), but ended up cutting things a bit short as the sun was right behind the stage and quite warm, instead opting for some really bland tourist chow from the closest restaurant on Michigan Avenue we could find.

Upon our return, we thought getting close to the sound system for Daft Punk would provide both great audio and close enough to see anything that needed seeing; this quickly was show to be faulty logic, as the crowd grew, and grew and GREW! Their collective intelligence, did NOT as people squished and crawled and continued to plow forward towards the stage. It was uncomfortably close as the performance started and after 1.5 songs and 1 butt grab, I voiced my fears of being slammed against the metal fence and puncturing a lung or severely disfiguring the next pseudo frat boy that found my posterior an acceptable armrest. Bosco agreed and we retreated back about 50ft---which was actually a better view to the whole electro-dance-techno-art performance which featured both bandmates in full helmets and black leather suits ensconced in a huge pyramid spinning samples and even larger triangle scaffolding on which laser graphics were projected. While I never did quite get the whole "must see" attitude of the crowd, it was amusing to MST3K the graphics as to what video game they were ripped from; we hit Tron, Asteroids, Space Invaders and even Tetris before we packed it in to beat the crush to the bus home.

STAY TUNED: Saturday and Sunday's exciting concert reviews and hijinks (some even illegal!)coming tomorrow!

Treating people just like pawns in chess....

2007-08-02T10:45:00.000-05:00

Yesterday's bridge collapse in Minneapolis was like a punch in the stomach---like many other ex-10,000 Lakeians, I quickly tried to account for all my near and dearest. Thankfully, to the best of my knowledge all my family, friends and acquaintances are safe and sound. That of course does not include the numerous people encountered over my 18 years there and am no longer in close contact with anymore...when the names are released, I will read it with my heart in throat indeed.

If you haven't heard about this tragedy (which I am not linking too, as there are far too many vultures on it already), just go to any major news source and it's splashed over everything. Don't get me wrong, it is a tragic accident and hopefully just a freak occurrence with no real cause or person to fault. But, it happened to occur on a slow story day and the news outlets are parading it around and milking it for every tear-streaked victim and gory cleanup commentary they can find. If anything else newsworthy had happened yesterday, Matt Lauer and the Today show would not have flown there (spending 90% of their broadcast on it), nor would have nearly the entire CNN staff (filling both broadcast and tickers with "exclusives")! It would be a medium blip on the national headlines---while major on the local Minnesotan channels, naturally.

I almost lost my Fruit Loops when heading out the door this morning when a bumper for tonight's Anderson Cooper 360° came on "Dangerous Bridges: Silent Killers In Waiting, Are You Next?" Sheesh, while an inquiry should take place and the public should certainly demand a thorough investigation and hold our current construction processes up to scrutiny, does it really merit scaring the doody out of folks as well as tormenting those who have lost loved ones so soon after something so horrific?

My thoughts and prayers are with all Minnesotans right now.

This is no longer a vacation. It's a quest. It's a quest for fun!

2007-07-23T23:18:00.000-05:00

My parents have owned the above canvas dinosaur for as long as I can remember. If you guessed that it is a geniune 1969 Starcraft Constellation Pop-Up Camper, you'd be correct, and quite possibly also a child of the 70s. Back in that wacky time there was no "minivans" or trips to all-inclusive family resorts with special schedules and activites designed specifically by age group to enhance or build on skill sets to create the next generation of adults with no idea of how to occupy themselves without an agenda.

In fact, if you started a family in the 1960s/70s, I believe you were issued one of these beauties with a station wagon (wood trim optional) a love of plaid, and a man-of-the-house that insisted that driving around the country was an "exciting adventure", "the only way to see the country" and "one of the best educational experiences we can give you kids."

I have many a "fond" memory of that camper. "Fondness" in this case referring to there being enough years past now that the sheer torture of being hauled around to significant bridges and historical creeks and staying at campgrounds with no swimming pool, video arcade games and grossly understocked canteens staffed by elderly folks who had never heard of "Pop Rocks."

Sadly, it is to be sold by my brother I've been informed. No more mustiness to greet me when it's unfurled. No wet canvas smell that seems to permeate everything for the whole weekend even though it rained for only 15min. No horrid cans of faded peas heated to lukewarm on the pseduo-stove before it ran out of butane. No fighting over who gets the "better end" to sleep in or making forts out of the day-glow floral seat cushions!

Okay, I'm really not quite that nostalgic!! ;) But, it was a fun little tormenting device of my childhood and thus has earned a wistful *sigh* at it's passing.

On a scary, weird, strange, funny bizarro note; while searching for my brother's craigslist ad , I ran across another similar model being sold in Mankato, Minnesota:

"For Sale: Nice 1974 Jayco Pop Up Camper. This camper is in good usable condition. It has a heater, three burner stove, sink, water tank, fridge/ice box, 110 volt inlets/outlets, excelent frame/axles, good tires, new spare tire, tows very nice. This camper is 33 years old, and is not perfect, but it is in good condition. $750. Cash or trade for firearms of equal value."

Curious, I looked up on a gun site to see what $750 would get this delightful militia -minded moron. Turns out, not much...while he could get most anything from the lines of the shotguns, handguns and rifles, only very low tier semi-automatics were in that price range. And machine-guns? Only if he had 3-4 mint VW Beetles to go along with his classic camper!

And he looks so cute, in his little red suit...

2007-07-09T23:57:00.000-05:00

It's been a long, long night boys and girls.

After getting off work at the ridiculously easy hour of 5 o'clock this eve, I rode no less than SEVEN times on Chicago's rarely lauded Transit System in 4-hours; it would have been NINE if another bus and train had fallen in line!

Quick shorthand for Chicagoans in the know: Red Line: (Roosevelt to Lake, Chicago to Fullerton), Buses: (#74 Fullerton/Riverside, #74 Riverside/Elston, #74 Elston/Belden, #36 Broadway to Addison, #36 Broadway to Argyle)---the missing two were the Red Line: Lake to State (it was rush-hour, couldn't even get in the station!) and #22: from Fullerton to Belmont.....the Clark bus was only traveling Southbound in pairs, it MUST be mating season!

Anywho, the question at hand is why oh, WHY was I such the mass-transit aficionado?

A lovely gal at my current place of employment is with child and the company is throwing her a surprise luncheon party tomorrow. I had received the memo notifying me of this last week and made a lame attempt to procure a present last Friday only to talk myself out of it---what in the HECK do I know about showering a baby?????

Alas, upon returning to Old Navy tonight to procure the my previous idea, I was greeted with empty metal brackets, the entire metropolis being now sold out of frog-headed hoodie bath towels!

After a dead heat race through the remaining State Street shops and the few Mag Mile boutiques in my tax bracket, I was still without a present de babe. It occurred to me then, that Chi-town, on the whole, is quite single-centric. I am sure there are LOADS of strips malls, mall-malls and outlets stores catering exclusively to swaddling bundles out beyond in "Chicagoland", but for a friend of an expecting urban gal, I was screwed!

Case in Point: One of the premiere spots for many "singles" to shop is The Shops @ Northbridge on Michigan Avenue. Would someone please tell me exactly what one gives a newborn from The Body Shop, Ann Taylor Loft, Forever 21, Kenneth Cole or Swatch?? (yes, to those smug folks who double-checked me, while some stores DO have a token "infant department", I dare you to justify $40+ for a set of booties!)

So, I wandered from Target to Marshall's, to TJ Maxx, to yet another Old Navy and finally to Kohl's where I finally procured a non-sex yellow footed onesie with "Sailor Ducks" and some terry-cloth "Duckie" washcloths. I followed that up with a panicked phone-call to my mother for other drugstore "essentials" to pad my gift, with needed but oft-forgotten items. She provided "Baby Magic" wash/lotion (which I remember from the 70s, but cannot find ANYWHERE in Chicago, anyone?), Baby Oil, Baby Wipes, Butt Cream (this may be a good time to mention that while I think this gal is KICK ASS, as she is one of the few grrrrls in the joint who isn't obsessed with what is on sale @ COACH online or what is acceptable to eat at this week on Stage blah-blah of South Beach and drove a SAG wagon at this year's MS ride while 8+ months pregnant, I still only know her as an occasional creative director on some of my assignments; we're not in the "Hey, didn' t you just LOVE that breast-pump I got you" territory yet.

It should also be mentioned that the super lady in question does not now the sex of her offspring and is Jewish, which frowns on (quite sensibly!) Baby Showers as they are an assumption of what is not here yet. Even with modern technology, birth is still an awesomely supernatural experience and no guarantee of anything.

There was one thing my mother (the nurse) discouraged, which I did not know: Baby Powder.

Apparently there is issue with Talc being inhaled and causing lung problems from to pneumonia to progressive diffuse pulmonary fibrosis, and while corn-starch based powders contain slightly larger particles, it is still better to rely on an oil, cream or even just the built-in wetness protection of conventional plastic diapers than use them.

Who Knew????????

Not I. I guess I bypassed that phase in my life somehow; presently having friends that are either quite a few years from even pondering procreation or already having done the deed.

I have never attended a Baby Shower. I am 33 years old.

The closest I came to showering was an honorary dinner for former freelance cohort C and her hubby B at Heartland Cafe in something like '01? My friend H had a lovely boy last year, but since we had lost contact, there was no shower/gift to attend to. Other than that, it's just family and I've been either in classes, out-of-state, or taking my ACTs.

I guess the point of this whole entry is to highlight the unfortunatness of being pregnant (as I'm sure maternity shops are equally scarce!) or the compatriot of a gestating one in Chicago....I guess we ship them off to the 'burbs to fend for themselves? It seems weird that this is yet another "life experience" for which I was not given any 'heads up', by formal education or famial nurturing---am I to learn of all this "magical" babiness only upon my own procreation?

That just seems a little odd, maybe it's just this past weekend of laze watching "The Crucible", "The Scarlet Letter" and "The Piano", but it seems like while repressed in some means, women in past centuries were better educated about what should be done at what time, innately...not just as a midwife for birthing, but as just a well-wishing neighbor; when a casserole was appreciated, when teething was starting, when to offer to babysit etc.

Is is just me? Anyone else clueless out there?

Jen Likes To...

2007-05-05T21:43:00.000-05:00

It's been a very hectic two weeks with moving and I have about 101 stories to tell. However, there will be plenty of time for those a bit later when I actually have a comfortable chair and desk setup; I am currently writing to y'all crosslegged on the floor in front of my Mac with the monitor sitting on top of the box---very college dormish indeed!

Anywho, while I was awaiting Bosco's return so we could go get ice cream in the new 'hood, I ran across a pretty funny meme on Very Well Red (thanks!) and decide to give it a whirl to some freakin' hilarious results. You go to google. Type in "[your name] likes to" and list the 1st 10 things that appear:

Jen likes to give something edgier and spicier then your average female rocker.

Jen likes losers.

Jen likes to dance (although everyone else does NOT like to watch Jen dance).

Jen likes that these boobs have a message. That message is love.

Jen doesn't have a bio yet, that jerk!

Jen likes TV.

Either Jen likes the man or she doesn't!

Jen likes Egon Schiele, puppies, and #91 at this Thai place in Berlin.

Jen likes the results.

Jen likes to take candid pictures of me.

WWJMCD?

2007-04-19T09:50:00.000-05:00

(What WOULD Jen's Management Company Do????)

This has become the buzz phrase in my life as of late. I hadn't bothered to write a post about current dealings with my landlord as they started very mundane and have only recently snowballed into a "What else could they possibly do????" situation.

I should state, to put this rant into perspective, that this is THE FIRST AND ONLY REPAIR that I've requested in the two years I've been at this address. The fun started about 6 weeks ago when I called to get a light switch fixed; both to avoid any hassle at my checkout and as a courtesy to the new tenant. Fast forward to 2 weeks ago when after multiple calls they finally decided they could come out and make the repair. "Beavis" and "Butthead" (as they shall be known for what will be obvious reasons) showed up to fix the switch; apparently they actually HAD been out several days earlier but couldn't figure out what the difficulty was as the bathroom fixture in question also has a manual thumb button on the side. Guess the word "switch" in the maintenance report threw them off! I escorted them into the bathroom to flip the offensive circuit on and off showing that nothing happened. They said "OH, well we'll need to get a new switch" and after that brilliant exchange, they left and didn't show up for 2 more days.

This time, just "Beavis" showed up and had the repair done in about 15min. About 2 hours after he left, my power started flickering and then failed completely. A call the management office sent both "Beavis" and "Butthead" out this time. They mucked around in the bathroom and breaker box and decided they would need to have a professional come out after I moved to fix the bathroom switch, which they replaced with the old unfunctioning one and put in a new breaker switch for good measure, dubbing everything fine.

Four hours later, the power again flickers and goes out, only now it's 8pm in the evening and I frantically call the emergency maintenence line which results in my building's manager coming out, looking in the box and saying "They f*cked this up, we'll send an electrician in the morning." Thankfully, Bosco was there with me by this point and advised that I should kill all the breakers (with a wooden spoon to avoid being shocked), pack up my groceries and stay at his place as whatever was wrong, was seriously wrong and could lead to an electrical fire if more power was drawn overnight.

This next repair I know little about, and can only assume it was both "Beavis" and "Butthead" as I was at a meeting downtown and had left a description of the problem, foolishly thinking they would send a professional this time. I returned home to a scrawled missive on the back of my note saying "The breaker we installed was bad, so we replaced it". Once again, several hours later my power starts flickering and I call the management office (thankfully, still open this time) and am assured help is on the way. This time it's the landlord and the fellow to be known as the "Pseudo-Electrician". This charmer tells me the problem is clearly caused by "All your electronic doo-dads", dismissing the fact I have lived here 2 years with nary an issue and am in the middle of packing, thus having LESS "doo-dads" plugged in. He mucks around in the box, rips out and replaces my fridge outlet just to placate me, declares the problem fixed and leaves.

The evening proceeds without problem, but then after watching TV for an hour the power flickers and fails. This time, however the box makes some really scary crackling sounds for almost a minute. I place another call to the "emergency" line which this time is conveniently out of service, more playing the "OFF" concerto with a wooden spoon in my breaker box, more packing of my food and pack-muling to Bosco's.

The next morning, the "Pseudo-Electrician", "Beavis", "Butthead" and the landlord show up to perform more mucking around. More blaming of my TV and cable box since they were on when the power failed. Apparently they replace ALL the breakers this time and, once more say everything is A-OK. My landlord shows the only bit of courtesy in this whole episode and calls me both that evening and the following morning to make sure all is well. Two days go by and everything is hunky-dory. I go to bed on the 2nd night, still slightly on edge and having bad dreams about waking up to flames and jumping out my 5th story window to a painful death. I finally decided I should get up and watch TV for awhile, hoping to eventually catch some Zzzz's on the couch. Whatever could happen next? Yep, flicker and out with the lights!!! I wooden spoon the breakers, pack groceries, make a call to Bosco informing him of his imminent midnight visitor and make another brutal call to the management, informing them that if this is not fixed, FOR GOOD in the morning by a real, professional, Local 134 card-carrying member of the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers, I would have a chat with my good buddies over at the Board of Chicago Renter's Rights and they would have city inspectors to deal with.

Tthat was evidentally all I needed to say. The next morning, a knock at my door produced "Beavis" asking for a detail of the problem to tell the electrician (my landlord apparently having morphed into a 13-year-old girl and refusing to talk to me now). Two hours later produces the "Pseudo-Electrician", "Beavis", "Butthead" ANNNNNNNDDD "John, member of IBEW". This motley crew disperses around my apartment and starts disassembling lights, outlets and pulling out my breaker box. "John, member of IBEW" has a real voltmeter---the first one that has been in my unit since this whole fiasco started. I remain in an adjacent room to eavesdrop on what is going on and catching bits of conversation including these "John-Gems":

"You have to really clean out all the corrosion when you're replacing breakers...."
"See where the insulation on that wire is pulled away so it's bare? That could have caused the arcing...."
"That's too much load on that breaker, it needs to be split into two....."

AND my favorite gem was asked to "John" by the "Pseudo-Electrician"
"So, what's the way to determine how to set the breakers up?"

I have had power for nearly two whole days now and hope it will continue for the remaining week I'm here. Yesterday, I was quite excited to finally have a quite stress-free evening, but, last night when I came home I discovered THIS:

Ripped out mailboxes, of course! That's What Jen's Managment Company Would Do! There of course was no written notice to residents of why, or how long it would be like this. I'm sure the mailperson will be THRILLED when she shows up today! (Oh yea, in case you didn't know, my first outer glass door has no lock, so without secure "tops" on the mailboxes anyone off the street can walk in and steal mail!)

These ass-monkeys should not be allowed to rent apartments in Chicago or anywhere. Their name cannot be revealed yet as I am still under the delusion that I'll get my security deposit back. As soon as that check clears however, I will post their name here and scathing reviews everywhere else on the web that has a forum for such things. If you are moving in or to Chicago in the next 45 days however, just leave a contact email in the "Comments" and I will gladly disclose the name to any individual, in hopes of helping to avoid this happening to them!

Rain and Wind and Weather, Hell-Bent For Leather

2007-04-11T12:12:00.000-05:00

Today is officially the 2nd day of training for the Illinois MS150!

(Don't even ask why I didn't post on the 1st day of Training....Slumlord + No Electricity = Unhappy Jen with No Coffee or Blogmaking ability!)

Current Forecast from Weather.com: 36°F (feels like 25°F) Light Rain/Snow Mix and Windy. Winds 21-31mph.

Yep, there really is nothing quite like riding a bike in the strange season the Midwest calls "Spring". For those not in the know, I have been doing this particular ride to benefit the National Multiple Sclerosis Society, Greater Illinois Chapter for the past 2 years as a rider and Assistant Captain of one the teams with a longer legacy.

In this my 3rd year, I find myself the Captain of team "Training Wheels Not Required"---a fun bunch of rapscallions that rode or volunteered with me last year.

The "Rapscallions Anonymous Club" from the 2006 Ride

It is a little sad that part of the causation behind the formation of this new team and the placement of me at the helm was due to severe management issues and ridiculous amounts bureaucracy on the previous team we had been members of---25¢ words aside, it just wasn't fun anymore; I came to feel that even though I was part of the leadership of the former team that my advice and opinions were not respected. After the 300th or so phone/email battle with the "management" over every little crumpet from tents to team building goodies it was just not worth ruining my health and personal satisfaction in the ride over. To put it even simpler: I took my toys and went home.

So far, our little experiment seems to be working though. Despite the uncooperative weather we've managed to 1. Name ourselves 2. Get a fabulous corporation to sponsor our jerseys (Thank you Allerton Hotel Chicago!) 3. Design and receive the jerseys a full 3 weeks before training (Uber-Thanks, Alexis @ Pactimo!) 4. Start DVD core-training to ward off injury and make us speedy! 5. Have a short and productive 1st team meeting 6. Snag a volunteer (G-dawg, you rock!) and 7. Book hotel rooms!

Not too shabby eh?

Probably the only weakness, (especially on my part) is fundraising. It has definitely taken a back seat to my upcoming move and seemingly always job craziness. And, I find myself at the drawing board as to creative ideas to start getting funds as my previous outlet of co-hosting and writing for a local Pub Quiz has not only been eliminated, but the funds I had started to earn for this year's campaign were embezzled by the quiz host and put in his own MS account to win some prize. While I am grateful that the money will end up going for the greater good, it has taught be a valuable lesson about trust and friendship--and when these combine with money how a greedy and megalomaniacal nature can be brought to light quickly.

But, enough of the past!

I would welcome all well-wishes for a successful 175mile ride (100 of which I will be doing on my 33rd birthday!) and, if any of my loyal readers would like to contribute financially to this worthy cause, you can DONATE HERE

Any little bit would be appreciated, Rome wasn't up in a day and even your $10 will go to help some really amazing people fight their battle and do what most of us take for granted....bike, walk, see, even open a can of soup. They are developing some amazing drug-therapies for this devastating illness and there look to be major advances in the next decade coming, maybe even a cure.

Thank you for listening to me rant and plead on a random chilly Tuesday morning, but the bike is calling so I must go. And by bike, I mean the one sitting on my indoor trainer stand...even I don't ride when it's snowing!

Wasting Away in Manischewitzville

2007-04-05T11:55:00.000-05:00

On Monday, I helped Bosco attempt a very improvisational Passover meal to great success! We decided to forgo the traditional seder plate and ceremony as by the time there was a final guest list it was close to 4pm, a mere 3 hours to sunset and the only one of us with any fluency in Hebrew had not spoken it in years!

The menu featured quite an array of the classics:
Moroccan Brisket with Olives, Tomato Sauce
Apricot Pistachio Charoset
Kishke (which I was MUCH happier about before looking it up on Wikipedia--schmaltz??? I ate schmaltz?!!?)
Egg-Matzo Crackers
He'brew Beer
Chocolate Chip Macaroons

Everything turned out marvelously despite a few misteps; apparently there is both Kosher and Passover Kosher and I made the gentilian mistake of getting egg-matzoh which apparently is intended for the elderly, ill or infantile---which in a pinch most those present could have qualified for!! It was Bosco's first brisket and it was supreme....this is from a gal who never met a cow she didn't dislike! Upon telling his mother he was making brisket for Passover, I think she cried into the phone a little bit with pride. The other "mistep" was actually intentional as no one had the stomach for kosher wine, so between the choice of non-kosher wine and kosher (but not Passover kosher) beer, we wisely decided on the beer.

After stuffing ourselves with the ritual feast, we settled in to view "When Do We Eat?" a little indie film about a dysfunctional family's Seder that takes a turn for the bizarre when one of the sons slips his Dad a tab of ecstasy to bring a new "perspective" to things. It is quite funny as the premise suggests, but don't go into it expecting slapstick humor....it's more of a tongue-in-cheek holding up of the ridiculousness that family gatherings tend to breed; religious or secular.

Also, for your Passover week amusement (and for my favorite Parrothead, K!) this little video ditty "Manischewitzville"

Lefse, Lingonberries and Lutefisk, Oh My!

2007-04-02T08:08:00.000-05:00

Well, it's official! I just hung up the phone with the movers and I will no longer be a resident of Chicago's illustrious "Boystown" neighborhood as of April 26th.

Even more of interest to some, this is not a solo moving project. Mr. Bosco will be joining me a mere 16days or so later as a roomie in a delightful 3 bedroom graystone 4-flat located in the picturesque Scandinavian neighborhood of Andersonville.

This prospect leaves me quite excited and also with a pit in my stomach. I am thrilled to up my servings of Bosco per week, as at present it is a royal pain to hike up to his current building after a hectic day, frantic workout and thrown together supper....not that he doesn't join me at my abode some evenings, but then it's a lightning-round cleaning session on top of the aforementioned tasks!

It makes a heck of a lot of sense too as we've been dating exclusively for almost 2.5years and are very much of the advanced age than any future formalization of this arrangement would be out of pocket....rough estimates put our combined savings at $6000-$7000 for the year, nothing to sneeze at for sure!

The pit, however, is that while I've informed my parents that I'm moving, I have not yet mentioned that it's into a house with Bosco. I have as the colloquially put it, "shacked" up with someone in the past and mentioning that to my mother went remarkably poorly and resulted in a tap-dance shifting of people and beds every visit to satisfy her puritanical views and insistence my father's cardiac welfare would be diminished if he were to find out.

The former actions are not something I'm willing to go through again, and while "for appearances" there are 2-non-office rooms, that is mostly due to the fact we both have a fair amount of stuff and having another bedroom allows me to keep my bed; a plush $1500plus Stearns & Foster that fell into my lap from off M's moving truck. It makes for a fabulous guest room and place for the second TV, assuring that I will not be submitted to any more Red Sox games than are necessary!

I am fairly positive things will go badly oncemore, and I will either be unequivably disowned and designated familas non gratis or the visits will stop and I will be making many flights to Minnesota to make-up for them not being able to visit the 'rents for whatever reason my mother dreams up. Bosco will not be sacrificed. Period. Even if it was an option, he is a legal resident of that premise bound by a lease and responsible for 50% of everything (unlike the previous situation in which I was the legal resident and the payee of most bills).

It makes for a nail-biter of a Spring, and I have never been one to claim my life is too dull. For now, all those typical clichés are running through my head "Que Sera Sera" " What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" "No guts, no glory" "There is nothing to fear but fear itself" "That's what friends are for"...yikes, there shall be NO Dionne Warwick in my world, I must retreat dear readers and put on something soothing, methinks some nice old fashioned Urge Overkill is in order....loudly of course, to scare off the rental agent who has shown my place 17times in the last 3 weeks; twice on Friday!

The Empress's New Clothes

2007-03-23T06:11:00.000-05:00

This past Wednesday taught me that there IS in fact such a thing as a wardrobe malfunction; the fact that I now share a common bond with Janet Jackson is a bit disconcerting though!

It all began with the fabulousness that is the Chicago Transit Authority, oncemore they managed to fail to move a train on a track from North to South in a timely manner, so much so I was running 12minutes late despite having left early.

Knowing that I had a big deadline at 10am, upon arrival I channeled my inner Harold Abrahams and tore out of the station with great speed. Reaching Michigan Avenue, I heard a ripping sound and felt suddenly very loose and very bouncy. Having been so busy at work, laundry had piled up and I was to the bottom of my lingerie drawer, and this day I was forced to wear an old front-closure bra that had seen better days. The little slot the metal clasp slips into had ripped and my gals were sudddenly freer than had they attended a 1960s morning bra-burning.

Such the dedicated worker-bee, I hustled quickely up the elevator and into the well-placed ladies room outside the main office front doors. After assesing the situtation, I attempted to snag the clasp through a thin part of the fabric with some limited success. Buttoning up my shirt I felt a great sense of relief......until two of the buttons on my shirt fell off.

Some folks might find this an excellent time to skulk off into the elevator and place a sick call, but not I! Steadfast, I strolled casually into the office, coat on and shoulders hunched together. Switching up my morning routine, I gathered coffee and a mineral water first and then hunkered down at my desk, slyly slipping my coat onto the back of my chair and slouching.

This worked remarkbly well, and, with the exception of an odd look for wearing my coat to the bathroom on one occasion, seemed to fool the office folks. Lunchtime finally came around and I scurried over to the Target that was thankfully located a mere 4 blocks away. Once there, I located a new bra, new top (oh, did I mention there was also an evening function immediately after work I neeeded to attend? and no time to stop home in between for a new frock!) and a set of safety pins.

Changing in the Target bathroom like a desparate woman, I ripped the tags off the new bra and commenced pinning together my blouse; the charade would be spoiled if I had to explain why I had a different top on when returning to work!

Amazingly, nothing else went wrong the rest of the afternoon and I easily crept back to the restroom at the end of the day to change into my fresh evening attire. The event I attended was unfortunately boring, long and short on food and beverage....but, at least no one was the wiser that I had a broken shirt in my bag.

What of the bra? That would have been left in a garbage can on State/Roosevelt, to avoid any temptation I may have had to repair it when returning home...I think after a 3rd wardrobe malfunction the FCC now puts you in mandatory wardrobe rehab with Janet, Britney and Tara Reid as your counselors!

Let's Get Physical!

2007-02-19T11:03:00.000-06:00

As it is getting close to Spring cycling training (my calendar's opinion only at this point), this past weekend was spent practicing carb-intake at Duffy's brunch, shopping for athletic shoes and researching exercises that prevent common cycling afflictions.

While brunch went off without a hitch, shopping for shoes was a torment up there with Top 40 music, making spring rolls and riding the CTA (loud, putzy and pointless). In both stores we patronized, Mr. Bosco found shoes immediately and was ready to go. Your beloved writer, however, tried on no less than 30 pairs with little, if any success. The final two contestants were Nike, a brand that has never fit my foot before and about as ugly as shoes can be. Not that I'm particularly finicky when it comes to the look of my trainers; when one has flat feet and ankles that are more for show than bodily support, fashion is rarely even a blip on my consideration radar. But these 2 were really especiallitrocious--#1 was silver patent pleather with fluorescent pink accents and #2 looked like Michael Jordan had some bad sushi and puked all over them. As they both felt superb on my foot (and passed hopping, jumping and running all over the store), I went with #2 as it was a tad cheaper and a smidge less ugly.

Errands having been run, I returned home to do a little housekeeping and kill some time on the 'puter. Tempted to see what others thought of my new fugly shoes, I googled them--a big mistake. There was only two hits not related to shopping or pricing; one from a PETA site which had them on a list of acceptable shoes containing no animal products (who-hoo, my shoes are vegan!) and the second from some foot guru condemning them as a marketing gimmick to sell to the department stores and resolution runners that will return to their box of moon-pies within a month. Disheartened, I showed up as Bosco's last night frantic that I would again have to search and try on more shoes in an endless cycle of podiatricks. Thankfully, he encouraged me to come bad into the land of sanity and realize that 6 miles a week does not a runner make, the shoes fit and make my feet happy, and most importantly, to never, ever, EVER google my shoes again.

Lastly, in WTFWTT news, a little gem I discovered while researching preventive stretching. Talk amongst yourselves!

Sowing the Seeds of Love

2007-02-14T08:53:00.000-06:00

Quite literally, as the above snapshot was from this past weekend's Chocolate Fest @ The Garfield Park Conservatory, an annual event brimming to the rim with caffeinated goodies.

Unfortunately, most of their cacao trees were feeling quite brown and under the weather, so the Ladies L-squared and I settled for this slightly frightening giant seed pod from the children's section of the plant exhibits--then again, with all food additives and growth hormones floating about our food supply willy-nilly, it could be quite realistic in a few years!

All You Need is Gloves...

2007-02-01T07:57:00.000-06:00

No, the above picture is not a modern art installation purchased at auction from some reclusive outsider artist just discovered in the Shawangunk Mountains....it is merely photographic evidence of what I've been reduced to.
One of my most irritating tendencies is the knack of repeatedly losing my winter gloves, a habit that started soon after those cute little kiddie klips were removed from my mittens in 1983. But, after numerous years and $$ spent in the hundreds, I've decided it finally has to end.

This declaration actually came at the end of last year when I lost a lovely pair of Thinsulate red gloves in February. A brief stay of embarrassment was granted, however, as Bosco, hearing my rants had ran out to procure an even lovelier robin's egg blue fleece pair to surprise me that frigid night....it seemed such a shame to shackle them, so I decided to give myself a pardon and was sure losing the thoughtful gift was impossible.

Alas, they were sucked into the great glove ephemera sometime around the end of last March, and oncemore I was intent on keeping the next pair of gloves I purchased no matter how ridiculous the means. Yet again I was foiled, as this past October my mother sent me a sleek pair of black suede darlings. It seemed that they were less bulkier than previous pairs and thus had a good life expectancy--shackling them would only break their spirit! Do I even need to write that Mr. Left was abandoned at a furniture store in Niles, IL due to my rather exuberant hopping on couches? A new pair were quickly purchased at a nearby Target on clearance and were on the road to being hung as soon as I returned home. It having been one of those weeks where breathing becomes optional, I didn't get around to this immediately and instead have now managed to almost lose them 3 times over the past 2 weeks the last involving a panicky sprint back to a local Italian eatery before the busboy got a nice warm additional tip. But, the recent cold snap and dwindling or non-existent stock of gloves at the local store has scared me straight and the harnessing commenced this morning.

So, I'm 32 years old and yet again find my gloves on a string, it's unclear if this qualifies as poetic or tragic!

Suffering from Morning After Coulrophobia

2007-01-24T08:21:00.000-06:00

Last night's 2007 State of the Union was indeed the clownfest that it promised to be and I am relieved that it is almost the last of this presidency.

As Mr. Bush decided not to actually discuss the State of our Union, I decided to not exactly listen and instead participated in a delightfully amusing MST3K commentary with Bosco. Here's two of our favorite "discoveries":

1. The mysterious silver thing in the right of the frame. While I know it's a hideously tacky inkwell, we did come up with a few other "uses" including:
1) Neo-Edwardian Water Bong---Pelosi's from San Fran, right?
2) Moonshine Still---dispenses hooch shots to keep Kennedy awake.
3) Cheney's Defibrillator---Pumps oil, not hearts.

And secondly, the discovery that when she assumes her look of "serious determination" or "extreme angst" Condoleeza Rice bears a striking resemblance to either Lurch from "The Addams Family" or the Geico Insurance caveman---she does know she works for and supports Bush? Perhaps it's just bad lighting in the Senate, someone should look into that!

Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Your Übershop Rocks!

2007-01-22T12:25:00.000-06:00

Let it be said that I am THRILLED to hand out kudos to a company with decent customer service, which is about as rare as a three-toed snipe these days.

The company up for my plaudits is the self-proclaimed "übershop" spreadshirt.com

As a special christmakkah present for the Good Lady L, it was determined that she was in dire need of wearable support of the constitutional Establishment Clause and a big old "pppphhhhbbbtttt" to the Alabama, Kansas, Kentucky, Nebraska, Utah, and Wisconsin Boards of Education's hopefully just temporary insanity. (An aside, there are waaayyyyy to many states on that list....here is the most current list of actions or potential ID/anti-evolution legislation I could find).
Anywho, the lovely Flying Spaghetti Monster/Pastafarian shirt I ordered was caught amidst all the holiday kafaffle and was not expected to arrive until after the holidays; this being a-ok as I was not to see the Good Lady until closer to the new year. Much waiting commenced, and I did finally receive an invoice for my order...but no order! I dialed up customer service expecting the typical cop-out of "nothing they could do", "not their problem", "better luck next time" or the general malaise that seems to have infected the entire customer service populous.

Happily, I was wrong! The sales rep I spoke to was pleasant and very apologetic, he assured me that, these things did happen occasionally during busy times and it was probably the company's fault. He also offered to re-order my item and upgrade my shipping at no extra charge. Needless to say I was flabbergasted! Admitting blame? Doing whatever they could to make me the customer happy? I thought this sort of service had gone the way of the dodo.

So a round of applause to spreadshirt.com for standing behind your company and product, you are übercool in my book!

You can call him Ray, or you can call him Jay....

2007-01-08T19:49:00.000-06:00

According to dictionary.com, nicknames are defined as “a name added to or substituted for the proper name of a person, place, etc., as in affection, ridicule, or familiarity ie: He has always loathed his nickname of “Whizzer.” or a familiar form of a proper name, as Jim for James and Peg for Margaret.”

This practice is far from being a byproduct of today’s fast-paced society and dates back to even Viking societies around 900 A.D. A passage from vikinganswerlady.com:

“People were sometimes called by heiti, uppnefi, or viðrnefni (bynames or nicknames). These nicknames were rarely, if ever, used by the person themselves, and almost never used to the person’s face. You were tagged by your friends (or enemies) with a byname. This becomes painfully obvious when you look at the historical bynames we have recorded. They are invariably descriptive, and mostly derogatory in some way, though a few denote desirable traits the person was known for.”

In my lifetime, I have been “tagged” seven times:

1. J.R.: My first nickname, culled together by my maternal grandfather upon pondering my monogram. It stuck and to this day the majority of my mother’s family calls me by this.....I wonder if some can even remember what the letters stand for these many years later.

2. Jenny/ Jenni: I was first dubbed Jenny with a “y” by a 1st grade teacher who must have been lazy with paperwork and also sat me next to the other Jenny in the class. It switched to “i” around 4th grade when I read “A Door in the Wall” by Marguerite De Angeli and discovered to my horror that “Jenny” was also commonly used in the medieval ages to refer to female donkeys. I had never really liked the shortening of my name and just went with the flow for far too many years, finally putting a nail in this one freshman year of college....new friends being much easier to train to a new name!

3. Ned: Early in middle school several friends and I had a nasty note passing habit, which caused us all to take nome de plumes to avoid both classmate and teacher interceptions. AS was “Frank” after a college guy she had a crush on, AF was “George” after her fanatical obsession with George Michael and I? I didn’t have any idea what to pick and no boy crush/obsession that was practical to use. So, AS dubbed me “Ned” after Ned Nickerson, Nancy Drew’s boyfriend.

4. Kibblebutt: College also brought about this lovely one, courtesy of a creative K&D and a really homophobic Perkins waiter. Though only D ever called me this officially, it does live on in my Yahoo! email which K (a tech major) set up at the beginning of the Internet rage in ‘93.

5. Good Lady/Ankles: These both came about quite recently and coincidentally both were given to me by a pair of my friends who are roomies. "Ankles" came from K who has an unhealthy obsession with my pitifully weak, but apparently strangely erotic lower twin joints. “Good Lady” is from L who refuses to part with Ye Olde English and yearns for a return to proper etiquette and speech in the King’s manner.

It is actually etiquette that this post was to be about, and the above a mere exercise to calm me down enough to get to the heart of things.

There is a certain post on a certain blog that gets a little too cozy and loose with my dear Bosco’s various monikers. (I shall not link to the aforementioned, as I do not want a flame war, nor do I wish to give the author any additional traffic).

This all started over a Superbowl party invite, in which the nincompoop in question decided to not laud the pleasant aspects of his party, bountifulness of his buffet or sheer vastness of his widescreen TV, but instead used his evite to make fun of my Bosco, his party and call into question his treatment of people. (Bosco sent his invite out 2 months ago, and included "Poopie"). Several people who were on both guest lists called the nincompoop or “Poopie” out on his crassness and suggested he should show more tack, everyone being well-evolved out of high school at this point.

“Poopie” decided to not heed their wise advice and to go on the offensive and blog about the whole event, in which he refers to Bosco by his full name as well as a derogatory nickname several times throughout the entry. This is incredibly crude in this day and age where everyone can search everything; especially employers, government agencies and other institutions that would potentially perform a ‘net “background check”. It is my policy that I do not use a friend or family member’s name in an entry unless I have OK’d it with them.....and this seems to be the policy of most bloggers, “Poopie” has done the electronic equivalent of walking up to Bosco and flicking boogers at him.

Adding insult to injury, “Poopie” wasn’t even around when the nickname he decided to co-opt came about, and in his description completely misses the true intention behind the very inside joke between a few close friends. The nickname in question never really bothered me before, heck I didn’t really consider it as it was used sparingly in a kidding manner by our close friends who really adore Bosco. In the mouth of “Poopie” it comes off smug and flippant and is quite belittling; he even admits to needing this as a way to differentiate between the many Bosco’s he knows.

TOUGH S*IT! Type the extra line and make stories a little longer or ramble on the 2 seconds more it will take to explain who it is specifically you were referring to. You insulted and called into question the character of the man I love deeply and who would move mountains or crush obstacles for any of his friends in a heartbeat!!!

As to your complaint of the “exclusivity” of the guest list, anyone that lives in Chicago knows that a city apartment is rarely spacious and one does need to show a little restraint when putting together a party to get both a good mix of people and not exceed very real square footage capacity. (A lesson I learned quite well last year after trying to cram 25 people into barely 250ft of living area). A Superbowl “house” party is not the same as one in a bar and the goal is not to invite everyone you have ever met.

Bottom line? I’d suggest that "Poopie's" mouth stops writing checks his etiquette and logic starved brain cannot cash. You mess with Bosco, you mess with me and you’ll be wishing for hell’s fury if you continue these sophomoric actions in an attempt to be Little Mister Popular or Prom Queen or whatever your angle is here.

Things to not do in Denver when you're delayed...

2006-12-21T23:42:00.000-06:00

I'm writing this evening as just another hapless holiday traveler caught in the gigantic winter web that started in the Mile High city.

Although, thankfully I am in my warm, well-stocked, and cozy abode as opposed to a cold and inevitably boring airport. To be honest, I'm not even sure if my flight was cancelled due to weather or on some cosmic coincidental whim.

This fun 2007 holiday travel season started for me about 2 hours ago when a representative from Air Tran called to inform me my 7:00am flight was cancelled....yes 10.5 hours before the flight! I missed that call as I was at the library getting books for my non-existent flight. Upon returning home, I called them immediately as requested only to get put on hold due to "High Call Traffic Due to Uncontrollable Circumstances"- guess that's the PC way of saying "Have you been under a rock? DIA is closed and is holding our planes hostage!"

Anywho, after sitting on hold for 45 minutes of really atrocious acid jazz, I was informed that they were no longer going to take any calls this evening and to try back at a later time or check out their o' so lovely and precious website (which you can't do anything useful on). Panicky calls were then placed to cancel my Airport Shuttle (sorry!) and to the family to inform them of my impending lack of arrival.

After lighting the pilot light on "Furious Jen", (last seen kicking the Comcast cable guy's derriere), having a brewskie and waiting an hour, I tried calling oncemore. AMAZINGLY, they had decided perhaps it was slightly amiss to shut down their switchboard amidst a colossal winter waylaying and that serving frustrated customers might at least make them consider their airline in the future, thus keeping the bill collectors and Chapter 11s off in an alternate reality.

But I digress...Apparently I had been rebooked without my consent on the 9:30pm last flight out tomorrow evening...a full 14 hours after my original flight! The customer "service" representative considered this matter closed, I was on a flight and should feel damn lucky about that and who did I think I was anyways??? After much cajoling and heated discussion about my true and deeply passionate love for their airline over the years I was magically given 3 additional choices:

1. Fly standby on a 9am flight (which I was told was a 10-20% chance for success)

2. Rent a car (at my expense) and drive to Moline, IL to catch one of their puddlejumpers (FYI: Moline is 2 hours, 53 minutes and 174.51 miles from Chicago)

3. Fly confirmed on a 6:18pm flight

I then informed her of my sheer devotion to Air Tran and that this was a horrid betrayal on their part, so much so, that I would have to think about booking Northwest for my Minnesota flights and United for my Boston flights necessary as part of my jet-setting lifestyle.

We then got to the part in her script where it must say something like "If the customer refuses to accept your offer and is perhaps even a bit mentally unstable, for heaven sakes bump them to 1st class gratis and hope they aren't a stalker!"

So, that's the story. A free day off in Chi-Town with no work and a 1st class trip to the Land of 10,000 Frozen Lakes. In the end, I guess it's not so bad to be the Jenster!

BOLO for Missing Mall: Brown, 1,633,000sf, likes sweets!

2006-09-07T06:21:00.000-05:00

This was such a bizarre interaction, it seemed worthwhile to share:

For a fall promotion at a New Jersey mall, I had designed some posters and entry tickets and shipped them FedEx to arrive yesterday morning to give the staff time to assemble everything before the start of the event this Saturday.

Thus, it was strange that I got an email from FedEx stating failure of delivery due to "inaccurate address." I quickly double-checked my info to rule out spastic typing, but everything was in order. A harried call to FedEx resulted in the following exchange:

Me: "Yea, you sent me an email about inaccurate address. That's the right address, what's the issue?"

FedEx lackey: "It appears that address doesn't exist, is this a home or business?"

Me: "How can the address not exist??? It's a shopping mall, how can you miss that???

FedEx lackey:"Could it be a small location that is not easily accessed? Can you describe the location?"

Me: "Describe it? It's HUGE, it's a big vast million square foot structure, it's brown, it has large fluorescent signs that say MALL!" As to it being non-accessible, it's probably the ONLY building on that road off the New Jersey Turnpike!!"

FedEx lackey: "Well, my note says the driver had difficulty finding the location, I'll make a note and he'll try again today."

Me: "Um, yeah, I kinda need that there ASAP..."try" doesn't leave me feeling good, can I give you MapQuest directions?"

FedEx lackey: "We may need those, if the driver has further difficulty, can I have him call you direct?"

Me: "Absolutely, whatever it takes!"

While I am sure this is a fairly isolated incident as FedEx has shipped many, many things for me without issue, it causes one pause that such a venerable shipping institution would have to ask one of it's customers for MapQuest directions.

Talk amongst yourselves.

Back from the Brink of Extinction

2006-09-01T10:13:00.000-05:00

(...or An Open Letter and my apologies!)

Dear Sirs, Madams, Bloggers, Blogettes and other Rif-Raf who find me during a weird Google search,

A quick note to let you know that I AM, in fact 100% alive and kicking.

There is really no acceptable excuse for my absence, while I could claim lack of 'net access at work, nothing but depressing or uninteresting news, overwork, writer's block or a host of other negligible reasons...it really boils down to a general state of malaise that has invaded the end of summer Jen.

To be fair, I am only blogging now as I have been a very good girl and been to the dentist, hairdresser, renewed magazines, done laundry, updated my resume and am halfway through a gigantic pile of email that has been sitting around for month.

If you haven't heard from me yet, expect something within the next week (then you can get out the bag of catty comments and post a "WHERE'S MY MAIL LADY?" snarky remark.) And, while I will most certainly break this promise at some point, my vow to attempt to blog once a week minimum going forth, probably Wednesdays or Thursdays until I get back into the groove again!

Now for a FABULOUS 4-day weekend, Enjoy one last summer fling everyone!
Jen

Doctor, I Think We Have a Pulse?

2006-07-26T07:20:00.000-05:00

So much for my penchant for the dramatic, I received my freelance job back after a 4-day hiatus and a REALLY heinous freelance job at a podunk corporation that doesn't warrant discussing other than to say "I was so above that!"

But before the tickertape is ordered and elephants trained for a parade, might I say that this "re-assignment" technically ends this Friday 7/28. Which is why I haven't brought it up until now, as I am neurotically superstitious and wanted to wait to be ensconced enough so as not to be fired before the end of the project (knock on wooden items, spit in cardinal directions and blow an eyelash already!)

There are vast amounts of rumors swirling about as to what happens after Friday including another "assignment" at said company that would last another month and BIG internal changes at the company that will in theory rock my world (as promised by my agent and a contingency for my initial return).

But, as of yet, BUPKUS! As I said to my very dear friend Liz the other day "How can I promise to be your roomie in 12 months, I could be raising llamas in the heart of Chile by October."

Jen's Job: Time of Death 7:48am

2006-07-06T09:22:00.000-05:00

or Happy Thursday to me!

This is not entirely surprising news, I've been on borrowed time for about three weeks now....that was when I was "officially" laid off. But, as I've been working everyday since then, it was apparently just a long and terminal disease my employment was suffering.

It did end in an icky way, which really burns my bum as these seemed like nice folks.

Yesterday, I was told by my boss at the end of a half day that while things were definitely slow, I would be given 3-4 days notice MINIMUM before they would end the assignment. This morning my cell rang with a call from his assistant; apparently the bossman would not be in today and I should go ahead and look for another assignment.

Of course, the kicker is I STILL have to go in this afternoon to get my coffee mug and calendar as well as have my timesheets signed....that could have been done yesterday with the appropriate and respectful closure accorded to someone that has worked for them a diligiant 10 months!

The most ironic thing is I flipped my Dr. Seuss calendar over yesterday (I had Monday off) to July and what was the quote?

"I know up on the top you are seeing great sights, but down at the bottom we, too, should have rights."

You said it Yertle, Power to the People!

Master of Lists, it's pulling my strings...

2006-06-21T07:05:00.000-05:00

Another quick tease of a posting to justify my existence!

It's been a crazy month; with bike team duties (our website is back online finally! check it out here!) and a job with more highs and lows than an Italian opera, there's been nary a free morsel of time to blog.

With little more than 52 hours to go before the ride, I find myself feeling much like one of those prized thoroughbreds before a derby.....every aspect of eating, drinking, sleeping and training is under the magnifying glass to maximize efficiency and if nothing else, do no harm!

And of course there's a massive list (see picture below) which grows by about 2 lines every hour; the green/black indicates what is done, *sigh*!

New in Bike Couture: Jen Nelson for mopundow

2006-05-26T06:46:00.000-05:00

I got scooped on this one, but here it is, our official bike team jersey for 2006!

This is ONE of the reasons for my long break from blogging earlier this Spring. Certainly something this "groundbreaking" is sure to have folks abuzz, so here's some answers to the inevitable questions:

1. Why such shocking colors? Yes, it IS bright. To paraphrase a popular line "This whole camouflage thing doesn't work very well. It's like wearing stripes and plaid. When biking on the path, CLASH!"

2. Why mopundow? Turn your head or monitor upside down. Why yes, it DOES read the same way now doesn't it? ;)

3. No sleeves? Isn't that chilly? Yea, ask that of anyone on the ride last year...and be prepared to duck when they take a swing at you!

4. Why'd you crop your head in the photo? I'm that rare breed of fashion designer that doesn't like my face shown. I did take a small byline on the back, I'm not going to give up all the glamour!

5. When's your next line coming out? Don't worry Calvin, Tommy and Giorgio...I'm sticking to jerseys and will not poke my head back into the fashion realm again until 2007!

Coagulating, Clotting and Congealing....Oh My!

2006-05-16T06:58:00.000-05:00

No, I’ve not gone on extended blog leave again, and have I got a doozie of a reason for not blogging yesterday:

While biking home on Sunday I was hit by a car door.

Before anyone starts having a panic attack, let me assure you that all body parts are approximately where they should be and while it may have lost a few points in the Kelly Blue Book, my bike also appears to have survived. So, what happened?

I had been out biking, attempting to do my requisite 30 training miles. Conditions were not exactly ideal, but with a little over a month left to go to the MS150, the time to be choosy is over. The first half of the ride was slightly chilly and a smidge on the breezy side, but I toughed it out to the bottom of the bike path at 71st Street. Turning around to view the city, I saw huge ghostly fingers of fog creeping in off the lake....kinda cool looking, but it meant the wind was shifting off the lake and I was in for a VERY cold ride home. Not disappointed, I arrived at the exit to my house 15 miles later half frozen and looking forward to a nice warm shower.

Heading off the bike path, I turned on to a one-way street just South of my house, as is now necessary due to $100 tickets being handed out to bicyclers who aren’t following traffic laws to the letter. This detour requires me to then turn North onto a very narrow and busy street to go one block and then arrive at my abode. Within sight of my turn, I heard a loud WHOOSH quickly followed by a loud CRACK and THUMP, looking up I had a very sideways view of Broadway Ave. It took a few moments to figure out what exactly had happened, someone had flung their door open and I was very much hurt, bleeding and in the middle of oncoming traffic. The lady who performed this despicable act was somewhat apologetic and called at me from the safe distance of the sidewalk “Oh, I’m so sorry, Are you ok?” much as one might if they had tipped a glass of water over on you at dinner.

Struggling to my feet, beginning to feel my injuries and bewildered that she wasn’t over there trying to help me up or trying to recruit people to my aid, I lost it. Sobbing and screaming a string of profanity my mother would be thoroughly unpleased with, I said I was NOT %^$#$#@ --*%$#@ OK, WHY DIDN’T SHE *&$#@!@ *&^%$ LOOK before opening a car door on a busy street and don’t bother to try and &^%$#@ help me now, I was going *&^%$#$@ home. Sadly, I don’t believe I was that coherent. Hobbling about a block further to my house I really starting crying and was on the edge of hysterically sobbing when the elevator opened on the 5th Floor to a very surprised Asian fellow....bet he’ll be a little more on guard for overwrought and bleeding tenants the next time he uses the elevator!

After getting my door open and crawling onto the couch I immediately thought to call Bosco...no good, he was in Waukegan, IL with friends. Mighty Dave took the first phone call and I’m sure he can attest to my bewailing that barely resembled speech. But, I soon found out he was at work. Minnesota niceness and fear of putting someone out kicked in...”Oh, it’s probably ok, no don’t leave work to come over, I think I see scabs forming already.” After assuring him that I didn’t believe I had a concussion and would stay awake, he finally let me hang up to call Bosco. In between phone calls I had floundered to the fridge to grab some ice packs, placing these gently on both knees, I assessed the first part of the damage which looked a lot worse covered in dirt. More bawling ensued and Bosco answered the phone to: AWHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH... CAR..... AWWWWWW..... HITBIKE....... AHHHHHWWWWW......HELPPLEASEAWWWWWWW...IT HURTS!

Ridiculously calm, he assured me he was headed back on the next train and would rally troops and to sit tight. A very long hour later, he showed up to a somewhat sedated, but pitiful looking patient....when you don’t have full mobility, you work with what you have, and I was a mess of blankets and icepacks and a tipped over bottle of Motrin.

Many kudos to Mr. Bosco, he cleaned things up, provided proper ice-packs and blankets, a home cooked meal (ok, it was soup from a can...but he did make it!) and assured me everything would heal just fine...I had not looked at my face yet, so this was quite good news.

My finally injury count totals: Contusions on Palms, Knuckles, both Knees, Right Calf, strains in both Wrists, 3 medium-sized lacerations on Right Knee and one large one on Chin. I don’t have details on how the car door fared.

The most amazing thing? While I will throw it out as one is supposed to after an accident, my helmet is in PERFECT condition. No scratches, no dings, no breakage of any sort. A HUGE shout out to the good people at Bell Helmets, you are fabulous folks and probably saved me a concussion or minor head trauma. Should I decide to get on a bike again, I will most certainly go out and get the exactly same Arc model I had before.

And lastly, as this has been a long-winded entry and not too kind on my wrists, a plea to anyone out there who doesn’t wear a helmet or only wears one sometimes.....there is one sound that I will never forget; the *CRACK* of my helmet hitting the pavement which you can feel and hear in your entire skull as it resonates. That would have been MY skull cracking instead of the helmet’s. I know everyone thinks things happen slow enough that you can dodge and miss them. But, as my injuries indicate, the door was flung on me (into my calf) as I was half past the car, there was no way I could have seen this (looking forward/peripherally, not directly sideways) and avoided a crash. Please? Be safe out there!

When it Rains, it Pours....

2006-05-12T05:52:00.000-05:00

My fellow Chicagoans will quickly acknowledge the streak of cold, crappy, windy and generally as un-Springlike weather as possible we've been having...and it looks like we've got at least 5 days more headed our way.

Or about the amount of time I will still be employed.

It was revealed to me through the "king" of my CreativeLand that the evil dragon "Moneymuncher" disconnected the hose that the gravy feeding my train ran through.

The "tale" above documents how good at paraphrasing I've gotten in my correspondance after being warned by a fellow co-worker that they like to scan company email for words like "job" "fired" "boss" "suck-ass" and the like!

Needless to say, I WAS granted a brief stay of execution late in the day yesterday (today was to be my last day of this glorious 8-month ride). It appears the "king" has a bucket of gravy that will last about a week, and has begged me to stay and do one last fabulous testament to creativite inspiration.

Into every life a little rain must fall, and me without my umbrella.

We eat ham and jam and Spam a lot!

2006-05-05T05:58:00.000-05:00

Last night as part of his birthday extravaganza, I took Bosco to see Spamalot.

IT WAS HYSTERICAL!!!!

Hearing all the hype and being naturally cynical about other "AMAZING, INCREDIBLE, I LAUGHED, CRIED ETC!" performances, I went in to the show rather reserved. This was certainly not the case here! Although any Python fan will recognize the majority of the plot and characters from The Holy Grail, the good fellows, Mr. Idle and Mr. Nichols, also treated this as a musical entity on its own, and were quick to add in plenty of gags poking fun at the genre of musical theatre itself.

WARNING: Slight spoiler, read on with caution!

And, in one particular moment of hilarity regarding the rather large amount of Jewish folk in and amongst the production of Broadway shows, a gigantic 15ft blinking Star of David is lowered from the rafters....I thought Bosco was going to pee himself with glee! This was quickly followed by one of my favorite quips in regards to King Arthur not knowing one of his companions was Jewish "Well, it's not the sort of thing you mention to a heavily-armed Christian!"

My only gripe (and it's small!) is the character of The Lady of the Lake's name. She gives Arthur the sword Excalibur, helps him to the throne of England etc, etc. This is all very true to most versions of the British legend, however, at the end of the show when asked what her "true" name is, The Lady of the Lake responds "Guinevere". This would not be correct. Most versions agree that the Lady is the half human/half fairy "Morgainne". Ok. Done now. Geek flag is down, folded and put away!

But overall, it's a grand evening of belly-laughs! If you have a chance and enjoy slightly raunchy, devilish schoolboy humor, check this one out!

Happy Birthday to Bosco!

2006-05-03T06:23:00.000-05:00

Today, this lovely human being turns another notch on that great ferris wheel of life. Many happy wishes to him!

Greenbacks, Gay Cowboys, Brown Suede Shoes

2006-02-20T06:47:00.000-06:00

(or, subtitled "Jen's Wild Singles Weekend!)

This weekend, Bosco flew the coop to attend a wedding of a Navy chum out on the East Coast and I was left to my own devices for amusement. Normally, this would not present to much of an issue as I have always been good at occupying myself--must have been all those years as a latchkey child!

Sadly, due to exceedingly brr-ific weather (-5 is a golf score, not a temperature!) a fabulously wild single gal weekend was not to be...although it was not without a bright point or two:

Friday: Tax Time! This meeting with my accountant was actually the primary reason behind my nixing Mr. Navy's nuptials. This might seem slightly selfish, but my accountant "Mr. K" is a genius of numbers and harder to get an appointment with than Oprah tickets in Chicago. He's just that good. This year was no exception, and upon seeing my refund, I had to restrain myself from leaning over the desk and planting a big old open mouth kiss on the greying 60-year old.

Saturday: I was squired on a date to the movies by good friend Logan's Dave. Bosco was quite sweet to feign jealously; "So, your wearing sweats and a parka to go to a movie about gay cowboys---Wow, I should punch him the next time we go out for a beer!" Needless to say, it was an EXCELLENT movie. Much hype had me afeared of a monotonous and pandering plot; but it was charming and sweet and devastatingly heartbreaking. Those who complain about the length of the movie just don't get it---to begin with, it covers th passing of 30 YEARS! Plus, it is about the western/southern way of life; these are not fly-by-night city slickers and rushing the plot would have felt forced and fake. This is one of the best love stories ever told.

Sunday: What would a gals' weekend be without a little shopping? Now, I must attest the philosophy "Shop 'Til You Drop" is a bit beyond me, as I usually fall into the situation of "Crap, season's changing---is there anything comfortable/stylish that doesn't make me look like a matron?" This shopping trip however, was for my much beloved kitty to acquire catnip and a laser-pointer. A few weeks ago, dear Ms. Liz introduced this device into my household and my feline has been jonesing to chase red spots ever since! A quick jaunt down to PetSmart uncovered both items in record time, and as it was still a long, cold walk home, I ducked into the local TJ Maxx to warm up. A bit of browsing uncovered a delightful pair of brown suede heels for the unheard of price of $10. Not only that, they were comfy---and for a gal with no arches to say that means something! Guilty with my girly purchase, I slunk home to finish the evening with some long overdue correspondence and to catch up with some periodical reading.

Next time I'm left alone there shall be better hijinks---weather permitting naturally!

Be Sure to Brush After Reading

2006-02-14T06:29:00.000-06:00

Yes, it's Valentine's Day. Yes, All the detractors out there will jump up and down over the titling of the day and its sordid and uncelebratory nature....or bemoan commericialism and the exploitation of human emotion by those who kill trees and refine sugar.

A big *phhhbt* to you! Lighten up and little and for those who are forgetful, use this day to give a shout out to someone you care about!

(But if you are insistent on remaining a malcontent, here's a site to make all the anti-Valentine's Day fake candy hearts you like.)

Take back what you said about Thor!!!

2006-01-23T23:10:00.000-06:00

...and yes, I did pillage like a Viking on Saturday night. Those beers never saw their ice chest village being sacked!

Another reason to be kosher...

2006-01-19T07:07:00.000-06:00

This morning, a handy little eating PSA for those who try to avoid nibbling on things that should be relegated to prehistoric man's "Oh, well then, I know what that tastes like now!!!" palate discrimination.

With work slowing down to a cozy pace, I've slid once more into a comfortable 1 hour lunch routine; this has vastly expanded my options on where to dine and yesterday's adventure featured Hannah's Bretzel (a charming and healthy, but somewhat pricey, artisan sandwich shop) in Chicago's West Loop.

I wavered on which sandwich to order, finally deciding on the Madrange ham & Camembert cheese with watercress - most opportunely it appears, as my other leaning was the Black Forest ham.

Do you know why Black Forest ham is "black"? Nope, neither did I. And now I wish I didn't. Gone are my illusions of sprightly, lederhosen-clad elves herding portly black and white piglets through a forest glen, where they would be charmed to sleep by fairy pipes and expire dreaming of truffles.

The "black" is achieved by coating the ham with beef's blood during the smoking process. Ugh. Even though I hadn't ordered that particular sandwich, my stomach was upset for the remainder of the afternoon for all the times I had consumed this atrocity, now forbidden to pass my lips.

Wanna know more about ham? Here's an excellent summary of the staggering number of ham variants and their substitutions.

One Night in Bangkok?

2006-01-18T07:16:00.000-06:00

I recently received a series of emails intend for another "jrnelson"....this is fairly common event, as even with all the countless e-address providers out there, "J" and "NELSON" are an outrageously common combination.

Usually, it's just an college friend of "jrnelson" (who I politely redirect) or junk mail (you're welcome whoever you are for my "refuse" services). This recent set of correspondence was very unusual however, and contained very specific and possibly confidential information. In fact, upon my first reading in the groggy mid-morning light it seemed to read like one of Tom Clancy's novels about a European spy heist!

Alas, upon further reviewal, it's probably just about importing foreign computer parts....but, then again, it could be a plot, the "Falcon" could refer to a disowned Romanian playboy who is running an illegal ring of knockoff designer clogs!!!

I'll leave it to you be the judge: (all names and details/locales altered for the unknown parties' protection, the grammar/syntax is all the mysterious writer though!)

Dear Koenraad,

Herewith I confirm our telephone call from this evening:

Tomorrow morning at 04.30 hrs. your driver picks me up at the flat and drives me to the station where I take the minibus to go to Bangkok (the same station as last time)

I must pick up my college dorm colleague Jarek Nelson from the airport and come with him back to Koh Samui for evening only.

I shall take from this station in Koh Samui a taxi and let me drive to our meeting.

Our customer Mr. Faolán McCorkle will arrive from Bangkok to Koh Samui at Monday morning

Swaantje will reserve a room for Mr. Faolán from Monday on Tuesday and from Tuesday on Wednesday (2 nights) at the Imperial Samui Hotel in Koh Samui (the same hotel where I stayed for about 8 weeks)

Sunday morning we go with Mr. Faolán McCorkle to procure the finished samples at our expense.

Mr. Faolán from the Falcon will make a full check of the new Combo Barnstormer and will decide what steps are crucial to be made forthwith then.

For this Mr. Faolán will stay here by Swaantje, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Wednesday evening Mr. Faolán will fly from Koh Samui to Bang Po and stay there some time.

We will discuss together the program with you tomorrow for the Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.

Greetings,
Hans R. De Vries II

Ooh baby, is that crocodile dung?

2006-01-14T13:05:00.000-06:00

On this lovely Saturday, I had a fairly desperate errand to attend. In need of refills and 2 months shy of my annual gynecological visit, it was off to Planned Parenthood I went. It was packed for a weekend, more so than usual, and I waited in a long line to even be carded for admittance (thank you, right wing fanatics!)

Ahead of me was a fairly young woman and her male companion, who became rather distraught when it appeared they could not find her appointment. When asked why she was there by the receptionist, she hissed quietly "An abortion of course, how do you not know this?!" The interchange with "Buffy" and "Biff" took quiet some time, during which I really took a dislike to her. Soon, I wanted to tap her on the shoulder and say, "Hey, I realize this is probably the worst day of your life, but these people are marvelous and here to help you....stop biting the hand already!"

"Buffy" was agog that they would be unable to call her cell phone when there was an opening, thus allowing her to return to her Gold Coast apartment around the corner. Instead, she would have to wait among the unwashed masses for 3-6 hours while they scrambled their appointments to fit her in. Again, the urge to jump up and down on her precious pink Ugg boots was overwhelming to me. Did she not realize that with Samuel Alito looking to be confirmed to the high court, this was a huge deal that she was even allowed to be there? I guess the adage: "Don't know what you got..." holds true.

Even my basic purchases were a "choice" and a "right" that Mr. Alito would like to see denied. Stupid people are dangerous, Stupid people in power are deadly. In his ignorant and uninformed legal ramblings (page 11, for the skimmers), Mr. Alito stated in that "some forms of birth control are ‘abortifacients' " and lumped birth control pills, the contraceptive ring and the IUD in as being no different than abortions. His argument hinges on the fact that while the primary goal of these birth control methods is to impede egg production by the ovaries, they also thicken the uterine lining to prevent implantation should an egg be produced and fertilized. Due to the extreme right-wing's assertion that life begins at conception, the followed train of thought would then make this lumping possible.

What's a gal to do in this very scary, fingers-crossed it never comes down to that event? Personally, should this travesty come to light, I will be looking in to my Canadian and European options and organizing some lovely gal-pal "weekends". Or there are many other options that humans have discovered over the years, here's a history.

As I exited after filling my prescription, one of the volunteers opened the door for me on my way out and said almost apologetically, "We have a small group of protesters who might approach you, please feel free to ignore them and have a nice day." I wanted to hug her. Thank you for being here and for allowing me to fulfill my rights, even if it's just for today.

Leon and the Pile of Dead Tree Souls

2006-01-06T01:21:00.000-06:00

My life is starting to sound strangely like a children's book in which one learns important life lessons through quirky adventures. Here's how the inside blurb of such a tome might read:

Our protagonist goes head-to-head with "Leon" the fly-by-night salesman from New Jersey who has decided to add "Art Director" to his Eastern territory. He makes a list of ridiculously silly demands and artistic critiques that causes one to wonder if Leon favors polyester suit jackets and plaid pants. Little-Bo-Jen is then dragged before Leon in a spur of the moment conference call. She manages to channel her "Sopranos" vibe and Leon is soon rolling over and asking to have his tummy scratched like a good client.

Things are not to remain well for long, though. In her unending desire to please and make an insanely unreasonable deadline, Jenni Longstockings releases a file to her vendor sans a final printout to her boss or the dread Human Resource division head. The job gets printed and is ready to ship on-time, when suddenly three errors are discovered!! There is no choice but to have the job reprinted, as the dread Human Resource division sees the Creative Department as a unfortunate infestation of color upon their bland and grey cubie-land. Luckily, Jenni Longstockings' boss dashes in to save the day by pulling cash out of the department fund to pay for the job re-run. Jenni can only hope that this blockheaded act will not impede her potential hiring in the next month and send her into such a spiral of despair that she will sell her horse and house to move to Cuba in hopes that planting a tree farm there will appease Mother Earth for the trees she put to a untimely death by being cocky.

Yes Jennifer, There IS a New Year's Day!

2006-01-02T09:40:00.000-06:00

Okay, to all the folks that repeatedly told me over the weekend:

"There's no way your office is open on Monday...no one is open!!!"

Please award yourselves ONE big-fat-I-told-Jen-so-point. I am now back from downtown, which is, indeed a ghostown. I now resolve to have a bagel, do some laundry and observe New Year's Day with the rest of Chicagoland....once they get out of bed that is!

Got Dreidel?

2005-12-26T06:12:00.000-06:00

Happy Hanukkah to all my Jewish friends and readers! I have a feeling before the 8th night there might just be a pair of socks in someone’s future if they lay off the bacon!

In related matters, a 3rd member of my non-immediate family is on to Bosco’s identity….not exactly planned, but when cornered and hit with “Are you going to church?” “Any boyfriend?” “What religion is he?” in less than 5 second intervals, it’s hard to be coy.

This provided a slight bit of enlightenment as to why I’ve not been particularly forthcoming with information...especially to my parents. Many people have weighed in on this matter, both solicited and not as to how weird, cruel, ridiculous and strange it is that I would not bring forth the love of my life and present him tethered with a Lexus-sized bow to my progenitors. And, while much can be chalked up to lack of time/place, it also appears your dear writer is a big fat chicken. Not without good reason, as my mother’s line of questioning would run something like this “Where does he live? Where is he from? What’s his favorite color? What religion is he? Has he been married before?”

Mere writing does not do her mini-interrogation justice...it’s amazing how subtle and innocent questions suddenly turn serious and you find yourself trying to justify your own existence. At last count, I should have imploded into an orange about 25 times for failing that test in “conversation” with her. This being the case, I'd rather she had the chance to meet Mr. Bosco in all his magnificence before the demonization/juicing can begin.

Many of my readers would wonder, what’s the fuss? My lovely friend Liz picked up on it rather quickly, “There Lutherans right? Eek, Midwestern Lutherans can be so terrifyingly friendly with fellowship and yet remarkably rigid if you cross them.” Apparently, a friend of hers from the Land o’ Lakes was awaiting disownment for coming out as a lesbian. While my fate might be less dramatic, it might not be as easy as I had imagined.

While the answer “Oh, he’s Jewish” rolls off my tongue in liberal and enlightened Chicago, I found myself almost answering this family member in a whisper….and loathing that I would even be apologetic about it. Personally, I couldn’t be more thrilled that he is one of the “Chosen People”…Judaism has always made a little more sense to me than Christianity. It seems a little naïve to trust that a bunch of corrupt and crazy Romans (see Popes Urban VI, Leo X and St. Augustine) could be proper editors for such an important religious work, and to take their edits as what was intended? Sheesh, that’s beyond gullible!

But, I have always felt a little like a poodle jumping hoops when it comes to religion. In 9th grade one of my friends had the gall to have some serious theological issues on the eve of our confirmation and was ostracized for not following the good Christian rhetoric. I secretly admired her, as I had questions myself, but dared not rock the boat. It wasn’t until college that a course in “Philosophy of Religion” gave me some foundational text and reasoning as to why I couldn’t just swallow what was preached as the right and only way. As this is getting to be a long entry (and my theological ideas could take up a small server in New Guinea) they can be summed up in one of my favorite lines from "Dogma":

“When are you people going to learn? It's not about who's right or wrong. No denomination's nailed it yet, and they never will because they're all too self-righteous to realize that it doesn't matter what you have faith in, just that you have faith. Your hearts are in the right place, but your brains need to wake up.”

Wow, this does seem to be a rambly entry, thanks for indulging my early morning incoherence! Suffice to say, I would gladly celebrate 50 Hanukkahs with my beloved, than even ponder giving him up for the sake of towing the line and not upsetting Christmas...there’s not a Lutheran boy that could come close to filling his yarmulke in my book!

We are the Champions?

2005-12-07T06:00:00.000-06:00

While the air temparature is still colder at my parents house....Chicago beats them out with the windchill added in; we win, whoo-hoo?

An open plea to whoever bumped against the Midwest thermostat, to please come back and reset it; if we are having January weather now, I'm relocating to Guam for the first part of '06!

*Note: The author is a veteran of 20 Minnesota winters, and is not a wimp. She knows what freeze your ass off weather is.

Gives 'Dark Roast' a Whole New Context

2005-11-18T06:27:00.000-06:00

A warm greeting for all those out there shivering away with that cup o' morning joe. And if your java is thick and dark from one of those industrial coffee makers, it might not be as gross as you think.

In Indonesia, they have taken to drinking Kopi Luwak (wild cat poop coffee), at $300 a pound.....can someone find Indonesia a puzzle to do? They have way to much free time on their hands!

No joke, here's the full article!

Smash it up, you can keep your cell phone service!

2005-11-16T06:40:00.000-06:00

Last night, a great injustice was corrected. My former cell phone is now a dumpster denizen! This dinosaur had provided a slight period of giddiness after its purchase 2 years ago, it being a GRAND improvement over the concrete brick I had been lugging around.

Needless to say, the Nokia Craptastic 3520 has been less than exemplary since then. Its connected number keys were such a horrific design flaw, that despite my brother's soldering, would rarely distinguish between 4, 7 and *. Despite the occasional amusement at having to write "On choo-choo" instead of "On train" (stupid 7 key!!!) I was quickly wearied of such irritating work-arounds.

(AT&T/Cingular who just lost my service to Sprint is equally to blame...Who is roaming while standing in their living room?....but smashing your headquarters with a hammer might put a cramp in my social life.)

To see the full photo documentation of the destruction, click here.

(oh, btw the entry's title is an homage to this ditty of course!)

Scenes from a Jewish Deli

2005-11-14T07:15:00.000-06:00

A lovely brunch was had this weekend at the Ashkenaz Deli. For quite some time, the B-man has strived to expand my horizons/vocabulary in regards to Jewish food....Matzo Ball Soup was this outing's lesson, and all I can say is Oy!

We ordered and lugged what had to be a 10-lb bag of food home, then I was quickly shooed out of the kitchen so Bosco could assemble our "feast." To my horror, sitting next to a very tasty looking pastrami on rye, pickle and slaw was what could only be described as a gigantic hairball floating in pan drippings!

Part of these little "experiments" in the cuisine of The Chosen People is to prevent a major faux pas when I meet the infamous bubbe. Her delightful grandson has yet again failed to find a nice Jewish girl and if this point cannot be underlined by the spewing of her homecooking back onto my plate, so much the better!

Apparently, the "matzo ball" is an attempt at making matzo more edible by adding eggs and turning it into a dumpling.....if this is the "more edible" version, I'd hate to see what the less edible options were!

Suffice to say, I managed to drain both bowl and ball (the broth was quite tasty!) and will gladly go back to bagels-n-schmear until the next culinary adventure arises....next up? KUGEL!

Happy Halloween!

2005-10-31T07:20:00.000-06:00

Without further ado, here's this year's costume...

Try the shrimp, I hear they're excellent!

She Lives in a Bubble. Bubble Girl!

2005-10-24T11:31:00.000-05:00

So, there's apparently a big game of stick swinging going on in town; I am referring. of course, to the Chicago White Sox appearance in the World Series.

Due to the local media overkill, I am trying to remain in my cave of ignorance until it's over; restricting my news to Yahoo! and CNN. While the city's enthusiasm is natural, Chicago is a sports-crazy town and there is no happy medium...the only thing happening IS the "Sox Super Fantastic World Series". Having lived here through the Chicago Bulls reign of mightiness, I can take a guess at the exuberant anchor tie-ins:

National News: A United Airlines pilot in Miami was suspended over an alcoholic smell on his breath, but he couldn't be as drunk as Sox fans will be when they win the World Series!!!!

Politics: Ben Bernanke has been named the new chairman of the Federal Reserve. Wonder if he can manage his portfolio wisely enough to afford the sky-high tickets prices for Game 5?

Weather: "It's rainy out, and a little breezy...but that's should allow for the wood in the bats to expand just enough to ensure several Grand Slams for the Sox to pummel Houston into submission."

And if the above isn't reason enough to consider being an informational recluse, consider the following. At the conclusion of the '98 Bulls championship run, I had been in Chicago barely a year and recently been forced to move to accommodate new condos. My parents had driven down from Minnesota to help me unpack. The Bulls won the championship at about 9:30pm that evening, and we were then treated to a 3-hour cacophony of horn-honking, screaming, fireworks and even some gunfire. My decision to move to Chicago seemed suddenly questionable.

That said, my self-induced shut-in status will continue until Thursday. If there is a swarm of killer bees, dangerous pollen levels or Lake Michigan dries up, can someone local let me know? Thanks!

A Tree Was Cut For This?

2005-10-18T08:00:00.000-05:00

I’d like to use this forum to post a literary PSA: William Gibson’s new novel “Pattern Recognition” is an atrocious waste of time. “Pattern Recognition” is a bad book, it both sucks and blows.

Not that google will necessarily pick that up in a search, or that I’ll even rank...my motivation to post is merely the self-satisfaction of a big *pppppbbbt* to all those amazon.com raves and the complete lack of a dissenting party with the exception of one fellow posting “It’s an Oprah’s Book Club Selection in the making....”

That lack of any opposition is unnerving, as this book is a huge departure from his typical work. It would seem that the reviewers/fans just couldn’t stand up and say “He WAS a great sci-fi novelist, and still may have a good book in him....this ain’t it and for that you get 1-star. Learn from this and get off those laurels, Mr. Gibson!”

The fact that I could be crazy and just have missed the point of the novel is also under investigation. At my bookclub on Sunday, the two other people who showed up to discuss this book thought it was pretty good, but they're a fairly agreeable bunch and not prone to rants (my friend C who also thought it was a waste of tree, could not unfortunately attend!)

Enough snarking, and on with a critique! Overall, the writing style is very uncomfortable to read, the author seems to be striving for a “conversational tone” and stream of consciousness effect....what he gets is choppy blocks of text, bad grammar and the reader wondering who gave him permission to stop Ritalin. He is also in dire need of a compass and a patient editor; the first 300 pages are a mismash circular tract detailing a kitchen remodel and tertiary characters who never reappear..... problem is, there are only 367 pages!!! He also uses 9/11 as a plot device, which left me quite uneasy. There will perhaps come a time, many years from now when the events of September 11 are looked back upon as a faded memory and nonchalantly referred to often in popular books, movies and television....the public mind typically being amnesiatic and fickle.

This is not the time.

While Mr. Gibson was reasonably careful in his handling of the material, the fact that it was tacked on to the manuscript as an indicator of present day versus his sci-fi reality highlights his lack of imagination. If one were to be quite cynical, it was a device to sell books.....my faith in humanity is willing to live in naiveté and give the author the benefit of being a just hack, not a vile being.

Okay, hey, wasn’t that just a bassinet full of vipers? There are good people out in the world, here’s one of them!

A Haunting We Will Go...

2005-10-17T06:32:00.000-05:00

This weekend was a sit-at-home, be a veg and let my inner Martha Stewart run amok getting my Halloween costume ready. For those not in the know, I take Halloween quite seriously; it's being looked into by the APA as the new designer OCD. My folly starts with rules, as I am hyper-specific as to the guidelines by which this monument to paganism is constructed:
1. Total costume cost may not exceed $30
2. 40% of costume must be hand-constructed
3. It must be something/someone I admire and worthy of a "tribute"
4. No one knows what I'm going as until the first party, period.

This year there were several strong contenders, one was kaboshed due to weather fears, another due to lack of a key element and there was even a back-up in case nothing else clicked! This year's costume was actually a contender last year, but was overturned due to the excitement of being dressed as a bad-ass "Kill Bill" bride Uma Thurman and hauling a sword around to reinforce my flinty-eyed self.

This year, I have been relentlessly hounded from various camps to at least give a hint...and to be sporting, I've decided to throw down my own gauntlet. What follows is the shopping list for my costume, I have excluded any objects or notions already in my possession.....and while I have a substantial trove of buttons, ric-rac, stuffing and double-sided fusing, I promise that none of the existing objects are big players in the overall production.

Guess away if you can in the comments! The winner (if there is one) and grand unveiling will be posted on 10/31. Good Luck! (Oh, it should be noted that I rarely use the items in question for their intended purpose...yea, I suck! ;)

Jen's 2005 Costume Shopping List
1. One Pair of Pink Socks
2. One Red Alligator-embossed piece of Felt
3. One Black Sparkle piece of Felt
4. One Peach "Fun Foam" piece
5. One Green Plastic Tablecloth
6. One Pack of disposable BBQ Skewers
7. One Black Turtleneck

Some previous year's accomplishments...

What color was your parachute anyways?

2005-10-13T15:27:00.000-05:00

*Insert hopelessly apologetic blatherings about being busy, having writer’s block, being stuck under large furniture and riding on magic carpets with aliens instead of blogging*

It’s been awhile since I’ve had to job interview, at least in the real sense. Due to the freelance nature of my work, I’ve had many a “pass the muster” meeting; having been selected to do the work, the employer wishes to confirm my hair color is one attainable by human genetics and I can conjugate a proper sentence without using the word “Dude” as a grammatical device.

Needless to say, long gone are the days when I sat hovering outside various corporate atriums, hands sweating madly, waiting for that first incomprehensible HR question “Well your certainly qualified, but what three things would take with you on a desert island....”

I suck at these questions. If there is an appropriate answer, mine inevitably sound good in my head but instantly fall apart if one were to analyze:

"Well Jane, I think I’d bring a copy of “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” a copy of Radiohead’s “The Bends” and a deck of cards”

(Translation: Philosophic naval gazer picks creature comforts over practicalities and is so completely out of touch with reality she wastes a choice on a CD without providing a device to play it on or facilities to provide power....also might have a potential gambling problem.)

"Okay how about a knife, flint and fish hooks....”
(Translation: Applicant shows tendency towards violence, potential pyromania and is obviously unaware that a steady diet of fish would result in unhealthy mercury levels...high risk to our HMO provider)

This sort of asinine questioning is supposed to provide them a window unto my soul; hinting at how I am under pressure and if I can think outside that cliched well-worn box. It is also the kind of BS, that usually has me turning on them and asking:

“Look, if you want to know how I am in a workplace setting, here are my references. I have a whole book of work here representing my creative side and the only way you’re going to know if you like me is to get to know me over time.”

Which is an excellent way of been branded as someone who can’t take direction and obviously has something to hide. Can you smell the paranoia?

Today’s interview was without any of the normal crud one must jump through to prove exemplary hoop-jumping status. In fact, everything went quite well until it occurred to me on the bus ride home....there might have been a test, a chocolate test.

After meeting with Person A, I was about to be shuffled into Person B’s office for my 2nd show of the afternoon. Person A, nonchalantly offered me a chocolate, which I accepted....and, as I’m craving some sugar, open and shove into my mouth as we walk down the hall, having been told there would be a wait until B was out of a meeting. As luck would have it, B turns the corner and begins the introductory yip-yap. I stand there helplessly nodding and “Um-Hmm-inng” while trying to swallow my sweet indiscretion whole.

This perhaps was a test, I now think, with the following outcomes/interpretations:
A: Take the chocolate, and put it away. (Polite, but perhaps not one of us)

B: Take the chocolate, eat it just quickly enough not to be slobbish, but fast enough to start the next meeting on time. (This is your candidate!)

C. Take the chocolate, eat it and still being chewing for the next meeting. (Team player, but not efficient.)

D. Do not take the chocolate, feign a diet or allergy. (Weirdo, definitely not one of us, and is she implying I’m fat?!)

Then again, should this position not work out, I found this hay farm in Canada for the low, low price of $250,000...as self-employment is in my nature, it’s at least a horizontal career move as well.

Happy Blog-a-Catmas!

2005-10-07T07:00:00.000-05:00

A very joyous occasion in which to revel in feline funnies...see Accordion Guy's Site for more on this now annual "holiday". My picture is of my little darlin' Twyla and her new guilty pleasure, drinking out of the bathtub....I'm so very proud!

"mmmm, drainwater goodness!"

At least it's not Poodle....

2005-08-25T10:47:00.000-05:00

or Modano, or Roy or anyone from Detroit. But somehow, my hockey fantasy involves being from Mile 40, Saskatchewan, running a donut shop and being a former penalty-minute record holder. Touché.

Props to Dave and Pat for the link:
Take the Which NHL Star Are You? Quiz

Don't Blame It On The Rain...

2005-08-23T11:27:00.000-05:00

...blame Saparmurat Niyazov, president of Turkmenistan! He has now banned lip-synching in the mid-asian country, and had this to say about his edict:

"Don't kill talents by using lip synching... Create our new culture."

Sir, I couldn't agree with you more. Your message is too late to save some from the wreckage of a public skewering, but gives hope that those American Idol kids might just think twice before trying it....at least in Turkmenistan!

Just say No!

You'll Never Make a Monkey Out of Me!

2005-08-22T10:37:00.000-05:00

or: "Charles D, Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me!"

This weekend featured the Air and Water Show in good old Chi-Town, and living underneath it for the weekend, has motivated me to travel the 3rd week of August 2006. I can now fully commiserate with anyone who has done time on an aircraft carrier, and thus also camped out beneath a runway.

This event also apparently brought in the best and the brightest crop of tourists and suburbanites to wander aimlessly about my fair home (Sarcasm level: Colossal). Some my find this level of scorn highly unusual in your dear writer, and it is. With very few exceptions, I can usually summon up my basketful of "Minnesota Niceness" and dole out every possible rationalization to avoid being unkind to someone who might be new or maybe just a little off that particular day.

Not this weekend, though. The basket runneth dry, and you have a girl who is quickly losing her faith in science..."Natural Selection" my posterior!

A trip to the Museum of Science and Industry featured an exhausting bike ride of idiots on parade, a clue to everyone that balked about moving out of the way when politely asked "Passing left, please", what you were walking on is a BIKE PATH, it is used for the recreation of the entire City of Chicago and is not your personal property to dump sand or beer or God knows what else on while performing acrobatics or behaviors commonly practiced by a yard full of schoolchildren.... of which you are a long-time retired member!

Two highlighted incidents:

Tha'll Learn Her
Two fairly sloshed fellows ignored my request to move left and continued to swing their cooler, swerving all over the outbound lane. Apparently, pissed at me for still managing to finagle around them, they offered Bosco (who was following me) $5 to throw a beer at me.

Attack of the Flying Rats
Riding back from an unfortunately unsuccessful Museum trip, (it was for all intensive purposes, sold out) the bike path was scrapped in favor of the deserted downtown streets. A tourist crossing one of the bridges decided he could not coexist with a pigeon that was 4 feet away, harmlessly sitting on a curb. The fellow in question proceeded to run screaming at the bird, just as I was passing the intersection and it flew into my wheel. Luckily, my bike, the bird and my person were all okay. I yelled at the guy about the idiocy of such an action and asked if he was trying to cause an accident or get someone/something killed? His reponse "They're just flying rats, no'body miss it."

Grrrr. Snarl. Curses, that large rocks didn't materialize over the former parties in question and remove them from the gene pool. Not that I'd want to return to prehistoric days, but there is something amiss in a world where the natural perpetuation of species is not allowed to reject the terminally stupid. If this was 70 million years AD, they'd be Raptor Rations!

If this entry has left you looking for more maniacal mayhem, there’s always the 2005 Darwins…

SuperQBs, Is the one you love right for you?

2005-08-19T09:21:00.000-05:00

Last night witnessed the very first time I live drafted my fantasy foot ball team.... well, by 'live' I refer to everyone hunched over monitors around the Chicagoland area (hopefully, with pulses) submitting their picks in real time.

It was rather different that I had imagined, and certainly highlighted my lackadaisical formula for selection. While I had pre-ranked players, that method ended up being only useful in the sense that you can see who's been cruelly plucked out of your carefully (HA!) constructed list. Upon arrival at the draft area I was "awarded" the 6th pick overall out of 10. This position quickly served to highlight any mistake I made, and forced me to relieve it.... I must have missed the memo that we were drafting kickers in the 7th round and spent an agonizing time waiting for my turn to pick up a scrap (Sebastian Janakowski, nothing like a veteran drunk!)

The IM trash talk was somewhat amusing, but it lacked the pique of our normal posts.... we WERE, however, missing Logan's Dave and, I have a secret suspicion the other lads were up to there eyeballs in depth charts and fantasy mags! I did manage to snag two halfway decent quarterbacks (Tom Brady, Jake Delhomme), although by the looks, my team should be renamed the "Tiger Beat's Turf Toes" as I certainly have the teen dream equation down pat.

This adventure will hopefully parlay into a minimum of giggles at my NEXT draft (why have one team when you can have two?), which is REALLY LIVE, complete with draft board and stickers.... and the added bonus of sitting with a red face for a round while I'm asked why in the world did I pick a Packer?!? (No, I jest, that just wouldn't happen without a concussion being involved!!!)

Ah well, my QBs cheekbones are not only cuter; but much, MUCH stronger than Rex Grossman's overall bone density.... that’s my strategy and I'm stuck for '05 with it!

Win a lock of hair and 50 Fantasy points!

Tell them what they've won Rod!

2005-08-17T11:19:00.000-05:00

Let is not be said I can't take a little artistic criticism! (Logan's Dave was not kicking his heels up at my choice of game show host yesterday, so here's a revision....although to pull this on off, I think the white toupee is ESSENTIAL,maybe even his trademark carnation and a 70s plaid suit!)

86 of out 100 people know this is a toupee.

This post is courtesy of one of last night's aside comments from Logan's Dave during Pub Quiz. I believe it went something like this:

"You all know I've always secretly wanted to be a game show host...."

Now really, you just shouldn't say such things around People With The Power of Photoshop. (In fact, I see the theme of our fall quiz promotion posters emerging; Trebek, Martindale, Sajack, Dawson...there's so many!!!!) Ah, well, enjoy this little nugget regardless!

To heck with Plinko, Give me "Bizarro World"!

Brought to you by the letter 'D' for Dimwit

2005-08-15T11:14:00.000-05:00

New tube and tire levers in hand, this weekend's project was to jaunt over to Bosco's and fix the lame bike that has been there for over a week. The hardest part turned out to be getting the tire off itself. Amazing, that such a simple technique is NOWHERE detailed on the web! There were websites with the very helpful instruction to "pop the tire off" or "remove the tire with the tire levers" (umm, DUH!) and several that even glossed over the whole procedure, jumping straight to removing the tube "After removing the tire...."

My PSA for the day "How to use a tire lever": When repairing a bike tire, place the fat end of one tire lever between the tire and the rim and pull towards you until part of the tire pops over the rim. Repeat this until you have a 2" section. Then wrangle the fat end under this section and pull it around the wheel like a zipper.... the whole tire will slip off effortlessly!

I take no credit for figuring this technique out; it was all Bosco...quite impressive considering it was his first tire change. Even more impressive was his pointing out my incredible folly. When inflating the new tube, I put my Presta valve adapter on the air compressor and fired it up. No air. More adjusting and refitting of the pieces commenced. Not even the slightest whiff of oxygen crawled into the tube. Bosco took a look at the setup, fiddled around a little bit and then had me turn the compressor on once more. Air flooded into the flaccid rubber, creating a giant black hula-hoop. To my horror, the "miracle" that had just been performed was courtesy of adjusting the top valve crown to its open position. Mensa-candidate that I am, I sheepishly asked, if since that let the air IN....it could possibly let the air OUT too?

Yes, it could in fact. When adding air to my tires, I had not closed the valve.... heck I didn't even realize the significance of said piece as this was probably only the 3rd time these tires had been filled; and the other 2 times weren't by me! We had just replaced a perfectly good tire!

And, since I apparently was too busy eating pudding during this episode of Sesame Street, here's a little refresher for everyone else out there. Sorry Bird Bird, I know you tried!

Even Grover didn't get it the first time around!

my apples are [Lost in the Supermarket]

2005-08-09T00:39:00.000-05:00

Blogger erroneously deleted my entry of grocery-store woes last week, and as last evening proved equally abominable, a revisit seems apropos.

Last weeks' trip to Jewel featured a cart-thief who absconded with my apples and grapes and left me 5lbs of tomatoes and a loaf of rye bread in exchange.... which were both quickly adjusted upon their discovery at checkout.

It's not entirely surprising that this transpired, as the Wrigleyville Jewel is SO bloody crowded! To plow through the swarm, I had resorted to dumping my cart at the end of an aisle and swooshing down for items, before returning to deposit them. Guess that's a sign to the other shoppers to pilfer and interchange at will!

I'd been dreading going back until now, if the store is not swamped, its shelves are empty of whatever you want or is on special.... attempting something so futile takes a certain mindset.

To alleviate some of my dread, I biked over to Trader Joe’s to complete the majority of my list before succumbing to Jewel for produce and household gear. I love TJ's and the only downside is they are now 3 miles away by bike instead of just scampering down the block like I used to. This trip was quite fruitful, and after a brief unloading I was really to strike out for the remainder of my list at the big conglomerate.

There was even a chicken leg up for me; friend K had advised me to try another Jewel location slightly further north to avoid the congestion, and paltry pickings. Feeling rosy, I had high hopes for a completed list and peaceful evening. Ha! What do we have for our loser Bob?

Well, Jack.... we have a lack of zucchini, grapes & water chestnuts, the inability to drive a cart down any given aisle due to throngs of shoppers and even a line infringer who tried to block an aisle to cut in at the checkout.

So much for a new solution to shopping! The evening’s misadventures even drove me to look into Peapod, which happens to be Bosco's favorite band-aid to this rather mundane task. This is a VERY tempting alternative and only a few strings (sparse employment and good weather) are keeping me from plunging right in.

I'm not a grocery-shopping "purist": I won't especially miss squeezing the fruit, or taking out every packet of eggs to get the one with the latest expiration date (yes, I am one of THOSE people), the personal interaction with the cashiers or untold joy at picking the most perfect plum...yea, can give me those 2-3hours back for $6-8 in delivery fees? Sold!

One minor gripe, I did notice when test-driving the service was its lack of a proper spell-checker. After a missed keystroke, the built-in search engine unfortunately does not return a handy list of clues:

"Hey, did you know there is no such thing as a 'Chiclin Breath'?....Could you perhaps have meant 'Chicken Breast'? or maybe 'Chiclets'? how about some Chitlins?

As a member of Ortographobics Anonymous (wow, there IS a word for this!?), the last place I need to be taunted about my lack of spelling dexterity is from an online grocer; nor, do I want my diet to become one monosyllabic food group as a consequence.

All in all, it's an interesting option, although still a little weak...guess I'm just over expectant having been coddled by Apple and Adobe with revolutionary computing products; lackluster electronics have no place in my world...MicroCenter makes me hunger for new toys; why can't Peapod make me crave to order groceries? Step up already fellas!

A Weekly Barometer

2005-08-08T11:51:00.000-05:00

or "You know it's Monday when...."

....after getting fully-dressed (jersey, shorts, bandana, cycle socks, suntan lotion, sunglasses, iced water, Powerbar) for a long bike ride and pedaling for 20 feet you hear an evil grating sound and look down to discover a flat tire.

(for others unfortunate enought to meet the same fate, might I suggest my latest bookmark "How to Fix a Flat"?)

'palooza deux

2005-08-01T13:37:00.000-05:00

Okay, so with a week's pause, on to Day Two! (Take that those of you who thought this would turn into another once of those serial entries that I dangle before you only to let become buried beneath papers, dates, work and other chattel.)

Sunday
After a rather cadaverous-like catnap, Bosco and I awoke at the crack of 10am.....so much for meeting folks out at breakfast! While he scurried over to orange to attempt some nosh; I began the bike home to prepare my ankles for more persecution. Climbing the stairs to the lakefront path my ATFL balked at another day of callousness and collapsed under the weight of a very heavy Trek and me. Luckily, I caught some cement stairs and managed only a superficial knee bruise and removal of my ring finger tip. Bloody and bruised, I continued to Walgreen's for gel insoles, water and breakfast (as the line outside Einstein’s was 12 people deep!). A quick chow and strapping of my ankles into Docs with their new cushy soles commenced. Amazingly, I still made it down to the festival grounds by 1pm. [Side Note: when googling atfl for ankle you also get The American Task Force for Lebanon. No word on if they have flat feet as well.)

Now, for the reviews!

Kasabian: First, learn to pronounce the name of the band right or you will endure endless finger pointing. KA-SAAB-E-AN. I didn't really get a chance to see much of the band, as 10minutes in the infernal heat had me dizzy and nauseous. Shade was found to the left of the stage and the rest of the show was experienced eavesdrop-like through a veil of leaves. It wasn't a bad show, just very vanilla. They seem the sort of band to experience in a dank and smoky club and the sound was lost amidst the gargantuan carnival scale of the fest. Overall, when in the mood for English psychedelic punk pop I'd check out the likes of Inspiral Carpets instead.

Louis XIV: This was another band that had received much kudos from my chums, and I was quite keen to be rocked. Due to ankle issues (bootstraps were the only things holding me upright!) and the ridiculous fieriness of the temps, another leafy screen was sought out behind the stage. Once more, I was a little disappointed; while I really like the raucous sound it was just not the right venue for it.... especially for one not familiar with the songbook. Not being able to mentally fill in the riffs that wafted out onto the softball fields, I quickly became bored and in favor of becoming as wet as possible before the next show. After checking out some of their downloads, they aren’t half bad and if you hunger for new 70s glam rock it's worth checking out!

Tegan and Sarah: After thoroughly drenching myself, I headed out to the field for this concert; I have a penchant for Canadian bands and this duo is no exception! I had a slight omen of calamity when they took the stage and Sarah was dressed in all black. Having dealt with blistering temps before, I was uber-prepared with light and airy clothes, wet bandana for neck cooling, sunglasses, hat and full water bottle.... with all this I was still uncomfortable; but Canadians are hearty folks, so on with the show! The set was going quite well until Sarah mentioned "Being hot, like placing your shoes next to a campfire." Things went downhill from there, icepacks were brought out to cool the gals, but Sarah still had to leave twice in the middle of songs to apparently puke. While their crew chimed in to finish one of the songs with Tegan, she finally called an end to the show. I was incredibly bummed, and will be looking out for their tour to come through a Chicago club in the near future!

Boredom, a nap and a jaunt for Jamba Juice with Bosco and new fabulous femme L transpired for the next 1.5 hours as no one of any note was on the bill worth seeing.

G. Love and Special Sauce: Yet another exclusively auditory experience, due to the scalding sun still being up. Garret "G. Love" Dutton apparently walked out in a full suit "So you guys don't feel so hot." which, while idiotic, was sweet. I like the sound of this band considerably; problem is I liked it in 1994 with the debut album. The sound is great, but since it's so distinctive a little goes quite far. Perhaps at some point evolution will happen.... which could be absolutely amazing; a modern-day Muddy Waters? I have chills! Otherwise, stick to the older stuff and hope for a multi-band bill to prevent lethargy.

The Dandy Warhols/Killers: I was torn between who to see here...thankfully The Killers were loud enough I heard a sampling of their set while standing in front of the Warhols. Certain folks will lambaste me for even hesitating to choose; but I like a good catchy riff, and even though some of their songs are a tad formulaic, they're pretty dang good. The Killers might not be good for me, but I also like to occasionally sit in front of my TV watching Gilmore Girls while downing a 1/4 of B&Js....guilty little pleasures are good! Dandy Warhols were very disappointing. They had some bopping tunes, which started my toes-a-tapping for a good time. Then, Anton Newcombe of the BJM came out, good-bye good-times. More revolutionary drivel and incoherent credos were spouted; and 8minute long "jam-sessions". After 3 of these aggrandized and narcissistic tributes, Bosco and I left Lolla for good. I did snag a t-shirt on the way out, not so much as this was a musical triumph that needed documentation, as I really liked the typesetting swirl.... and the design geek lives on!

There it is, a consecutive 2-part entry. Huzzah!

'palooza

2005-07-27T07:58:00.000-05:00

I spent this past weekend at that grandaddy behemoth of alt-fests: Lollapolooza. Not being as sardonic as some bloggers, I was in great anticipation of this weekend of concerts, having not attended this jubilee since 1994. The lineup sounded stupendous and there was just the right mix of bands; those I was avidly anticipating and those I was quite curious to experience... a good show being an easy way for an unknown band to wheedle their way into my prodigious CD collection. Without further buildup, my take!

Saturday:

The Warlocks: This was the first show I hung around, and over-all it was not too bad, (they were in essence, an opening band) but while their songs started nice and trippy, they quickly transformed into a long, navel-examining treatise. This just didn't sync with my high level of early energy!

M83: Caught a smidge of this show too, after I became bored of the Warlocks....they were pretty spiffy, and I think they deserve more of a chance than an open-air festivalallows...very French, ethereal and transcendental; not something that a quick listen would give credit to. If Air is the Franco-version of fast-food, than this is a 12-course meal that needs time for appropriate digestion.

Trail of the Dead.... This Austin band had me finally thinking "Hey, now we're getting somewhere!", it was quite short lived as the intense and multi-layered primal rhythms were quickly supplanted by cheesy pop licks and they were transformed into a potential TRL contender...word from my chum “S” is they used to have some cajones and to stick with their earlier work for any CD additions.

Kasier Chiefs: I had been told by several people this was a 'must see' band. But, as my morning was still in 2nd gear tried to not let the hype sell it. They rocked. And rolled. This is my new "Big Find of '05" and their disc 'Employment' is whisking to my doorstep from Amazon as I type! It's catchy and poppy and yet, dare I say it...? There's a little bit of Clash-essence in there?! Punky, with a rosy -cheeked smile? (I passed up Liz Phair and gladly so for this show, while I will always love Exile in Guyville and Supernova, her new stuff it just too mainstream for my tastebuds!)

Brian Jonestown Massacre: This was also a highly-toted show from several friends with a highly-tuned sense of musicosity. It was another HUGE disappointment. While might be quite liberal, that does not make me a Happy Hippy Commune Friend; it's never a good sign when the extremely stoned singer starts the set off with a manifesto.....I quickly agreed to some random wandering to find cohorts than to stay and sway to more self-involved navel melodies!

Cake: I adore this band! Saw them back in October; they were amazing then and nothing short of that now. Great tunes, great lyrics, hilarious tongue-in-cheek pokes at our everyday culture; John McCrea makes fun of bucket car seats, cell-phones and traffic...having a band 'agenda' doesn't mean you have to be a stuffed shirt environmentalist!

ANKLE BREAK (My flat feet finally rose up to protest at this point, despite very comfort and arch-loving sandals. Up next was Billy Idol, who I had no desire to see; he was great once...WAS, and the idea of seeing him as a washed-up star was not appealing! So, Bosco and I checked out Blonde Redhead instead from a nearby hill...this is another band that definitely has my pique, but something to soak in and luxuriate to before rendering a final opinion.

Primus: 30ft Yellow Duckies! When I saw these go up, it might as well been the equivalent of a giant flare "Why yes, Primus IS playing this stage!" I'm not a typical Primus fan, but have always held "My Name is Mud" in great esteem...these guys are just a little strange....like chocolate wasabi instead of mayo; awesome fretless bass-lines with quirky humorous lyrics...it's as fun as a poodle in a prom dress!

Pixies: This was an extraordinary show, and was only slightly less lustrous for me, having seen them for the very first time this past November at the Aragon (super show, horrid sound). Thus, some of the surprise was gone, but I could actually hear the melody instead of it echoing endlessly in the cavernous Aragon...cool once, then quite tiring! Kim once again gave an awe-inspiring performance of "Gigantic" which curled my toes...they also did "Here Comes Your Man" which was not at my earlier viewing. Here’s hoping they continue to get along enough to do another surface-shaking album!

Weezer: They were the last show of the day, and I had always wanted to see them despite having lost track of their sound since the Green album. My party of commrades had assembled and though the music was not anything exceptional it was a grand old time. In affront to my ankle complaint, I insisted on dancing and jiving…doing the monkey, frug and 'tater to the hits.
In the fade of the dimming stage lights and dissipating colored fog, we headed back North for bed. My ankle was in such bad sorts, having swollen over my sandal, I had to use Bosco as a human crutch. Thankfully, the city had buses awaiting the crowds and it was a quick jaunt up Michigan Avenue to icebags, Advil and attempt a recovery before the next day’s lineup.

Sunday’s band reviews to follow tomorrow!

The First Day of Work

2005-07-21T23:26:00.000-05:00

The lack of a substantial posts has been due to gainfully freelance employ for several days! (cut to Jen’s Mom selling her stock in Ramen Noodles)

It’s been nearly 2 years since I’ve been out in the wacky world of design freelance and that lapse is showing! My normal ballsy “show up late to meetings, ignore emails and cocksure ‘No Problem’” attitude from being coddled in the bosom of a longterm gig has flown. Instead, I find myself running to Borders on my lunch break to rummage through magazines on millwork and molding, so panicked that if I don't produce the most-awe inspiring and stimulating piece for the Association of Millwork Distributors, I will be shown the door. (oops, unintentional pun :*)

This has only served to highlight how truly insane my chosen profession is. When trying to explain to Bosco the reason for my near hysteria…

“WHAT if they don’t like my work, and thus me?” “WHAT if they hate RED…MY GOD, WHAT IF THEY HATE RED!”

…the best example I could use was his job in accounting:

“What if, at several hotels in the city 2+2=4. But then, at another bunch 2+2=7. AND at another handful of hotels they refused to do addition at all, citing “less is more”….you have no idea which sort you're dealing with until they look at your paper with all the figures worked out; if you’re wrong, you are shown the door.

He suggested I get a good night’s sleep.

Well, at least part of my unrest was resolved this morning. Everything I presented was accepted outright with no alterations and the ridiculously nice staff (3 people checked in on my hydration needs throughout the day!) thanked me for being the ultimate design fairy and magically producing an elegant solution to their very dry problem.

It remains to be seen how long this gig will last, in theory through next week. (fingers crossed they are happy with the next set of thumbnails tomorrow morning!) Quite strangely, I find myself secretly hoping for longer. Either I caught one hell of a “staff infection” from the last dreadful place or there might be a small case of “job twitterpation” at hand. ARGH! Maybe I’ll have to dig up a copy of “The Rules” to follow so I don’t go getting overly eager and shopping for office supplies or doodling my name on the office stationery with little hearts “Jen Nelson, Art Director” *swooning sigh*

Beam Him Up!

2005-07-21T07:01:00.000-05:00

Rest in Peace James Doohan! (methinks an honorary Star Trek round might be in order for Quiz next week)

Aye it's been a good voyage, Captain

And a Beer Back for the Little One.....

2005-07-19T09:00:00.000-05:00

I found this while researching a Pub Quiz round for tonight in the US Army’s Dress Code Manual. I looked and looked for the page stating if you are pregnant, perhaps a bar is not the place you should be hanging out...especially not to engage in drinking. As there was none, just make sure your not wearing THEIR uniform when attempting that keg stand in your third trimester!

21 Shot Salute?

4–3. Occasions for wear
a. The maternity work uniform is worn on duty when prescribed by the commander. Females may wear the
maternity work BDUs off post unless prohibited by the commander. They may not wear the maternity work uniform for commercial travel, unless authorized by para 1–10c of this regulation. Soldiers may not wear the maternity work uniform in establishments that primarily sell alcohol. If the establishment sells alcohol and food, soldiers may not wear utility uniforms if their activities in the establishment center on drinking alcohol only.

Girl of the North Country

2005-07-14T08:40:00.000-05:00

or so it seems! This handy little map of where you've been I found over at Bosco's Blog. Here's the link for make your own US/World map as well. I really need to get out of the Midwest!

And Ohio is STILL a red state!

Smoke 'Em if You got 'Em

2005-07-06T13:45:00.000-05:00

It seems odd that after all this time online, I do not have a fark account. This hit home as I was perusing (ah, the life of the unemployed!) their site and hit upon this Photoshop challenge link they had entitled "If Marijuana advertisements were legal." This little gem immediately popped into my head and I was about to post it to revel in the glory of other image whiz geeks only to find out I did not possess a fark account and they refuse to let anyone post for 24 hours after they sign up. So, this one's just for my private audience (and it also nicely ties into the previous post)! Cheers!

You've just crossed over into the THE COLLEGIATE ZONE!

2005-07-04T23:47:00.000-05:00

Talk about unlocking a door to a past dimension! I have been spending the evening working on rounds for Pub Quiz tomorrow (Tues) night, and WHAT do my wandering fingers run across on Wikipedia?

Mao: The Card Game

This rather bizarre little 3 deck card game was taught to myself and Logan's Dave under the green haze of Macalester's hallowed halls about 12 years ago. Our tutor in question was of East Coast decent and for all we knew he made the crazy thing up....liberal arts school + plentiful herb garden = profound thoughts every 3.2 seconds! But here, in cyber-print IS that very game! If you can rustle some adventurous souls and a bunch of cards, play a hand....and don't talk about the rules!

My Independence Day!

2005-07-04T12:59:00.000-05:00

Crazy Victorian Kids!

Hope everyone is having a happy 4th!

Today is my own sort of independence day, blogging to you from my Mac! Usually, I sit at this desk in waves of frustration as my PC eats a post or decides it doesn't "feel like working, check the Windows website for this asinine extension while I take a power-save." But, thanks to Bosco and a new network, I am now able to revel in my Mac fetish online as well!

SCOOPED!

2005-07-01T09:58:00.000-05:00

It’s true, I have been rather amiss in posting and was intending on finally sitting down to write my MS Tour de Farms experience and link to the pictures I received yesterday. Being the magnanimous person I am, I sent the link to the team (well, okay I really just wanted everyone to see the infamous "Body Glide Moment"). Optimistically, I thought I could make it home from Bosco's this morning, post, link and "TA-DA!" Unfortunately, someone beat me to the velvet rope and spoiled my surprise!

Well, here are the pictures and I'll follow it up with my own little tale of the weekend!

FRIDAY 6/24
It was a very hectic pre-tour day for your narrator as in addition to normal rider queries, "Should I pack the red bandana or the green one?" I had my Assistant Captain (or Ass-Cap as it were ;) duties to perform and one large orangutan of a freelance gig to finally kick to the curb.

Quitting my job proved to be more involved than I had anticipated; my 1pm departure quickly became 1:45pm. It was sweet, despite the management’s botching of my termination and mandate I tell NO ONE (as of this morning no official notice has been sent out!) my co-workers, upon hearing the sad news STILL dashed out somewhere to gather a card and a stunning bouquet of tulips. It's nice to be recognized for a job well done!

A quick dash home in 95° heat commenced, Tulips, Desk Accessories and Bosco (who I picked up at the bus stop) in tow. The next crisis was the acquisition of a proper pair of cycling gloves as mine had shredded themselves an early grave. A plea for a ride in the heat from El Capitano was denied, "You have 30min at least!" This was quickly eaten up, as a 2-mile roundtrip trek in blistering heat is not a journey of speed. Sure enough, El Capitano was 2 blocks from my apartment upon our return. Speed packing commenced; Water for Tulips, Food for Kitty and I managed everything except my last minute deep breath and check...this is something I always do, and it will become obvious later why!

Off to Aurora we sped, and by sped I mean crawled through the weekend traffic of Taste of Chicago, Pride '05 and who knows what else was churning in the city! We did get 3 urban carwashes on the way to the freeway, I was happy that the gunfire in those related neighborhoods was cooled as well (something unnerving about driving by a "This is a NON-shooting House" sign). It was soon after this that the earth-shattering news was discovered. I FORGOT MY BIB NUMBER! Sure enough, neglecting the last minute check had left my number languishing away, alone on my desk. A freak-out fest began, as well as some choice words between me and El Capitano; thankfully Bosco has an excellent sense of humor and settled back, virtual popcorn in hand to watch the show. Against my better judgment, it was decided to send team members A and T to get the errant numeral on their way out of town. We later found out, as I suspected, that a whole new number kit would have been issued to me at the ride. D'OH!

A peaceful evening commenced; unloading, reloading, getting those attractive yellow bracelets attached to everyone...it was easy to overlook the atrocious dinner...WHAT IS it with the Friday night dinner? Last year's ride featured a closed kitchen and a whole lot of blonde jiggle flaunting NASCAR tickets. This year had food, it was late, or wrong, or extra...but it was food. I'm bringing takeout in a cooler next year!

SATURDAY 6/25
Despite a pretty early alarm, (at 4:30) we still managed to be late and miss our team picture; tardiness seems to be a challenge for some of the team and the captains didn't bring cattle prods with this year.... I did grab one at the Fleet and Farm in Sycamore, so watch out next year!

The ride began with very little hullabaloo, and soon we had completed the first 10miles to the Kaneville rest stop. I actually thought "Hey, this is kinda easy...maybe I COULD do 100miles?" Silly me. We hit the next two rest stops in quick succession, pulling into Sandwich, IL around 10:30 for a SANDWICH of all things. The team also witnessed B getting it on with the Body Glide which proved for limitless quips at poor B's expense...hey, I never heard him bitch about being chaffed!

Leaving Sandwich, and my last happy memories for a while, we took off for Rollo. I attempted to keep pace with several of our faster riders, and quickly lost that campaign. In mere seconds, it seemed that the climes had suddenly morphed from just a little warm and humid to blast furnace levels...and I was the pig iron! This 16.6 mile stretch was the longest we were asked to trek without a rest stop; foolishly I had not checked my map and only had 1 water bottle on me. This ran out at mile 10. The delirium and nausea of heat exhaustion started to set in as I blindly sought an end to this self-induced agony. One reprehensible farmer was actually SELLING water...not that it would have helped me as there was no point to carry cash on the ride, a lot of nasty words in his direction for trying to profit off a charity ride! I pressed on with everything I had, following a trio of nurses from Evanston Hospital to keep my legs churning. It also seemed prudent to have witnesses when my body fell off the bike and rolled into one of the adjacent cornfields. Mere moments after I was about to pull over for a SAG, the familiar orange flag appeared over the horizon to wave us into the Rollo rest stop. I teetered in, more under gravity than my own power, threw my bike at El Capitano who had already arrived and announced "I'm going to go puke now!" This was a tad melodramatic in hindsight, as it only took 20min under the mist hose, a SnoCone, 4 bottles of water, 3 bottles of Gatorade, a PowerBar, a PowerGel, 5 wet bandannas full of ice and a cup full of Goldfish crackers to recover. Setting off once more, I picked the moderate pace of some of our team and forced myself to follow them. My need for speed had contributed toward my previous calamity and I WOULD NOT BE SAG'd! This modest speed continued until Elva, the last rest stop before the finish. Then, I went chasing rabbits. My fellow teammate DB was also craving some velocity and he provided an excellent Lepus Cyclistica for me to hunt all the way to DeKalb.

Camp was thankfully rockin' upon my arrival; all the tents were upright and the hops were on ice...I could only wistfully look though, mind said "BEER!" body said "WATER!". We showered and ate in the college cafeteria, which brought some folks back to their colligate days; my cafeteria was 5million times better and if this is what the rest of the undergrads were eating, I feel your pain! The anti-climactic nature of the evening continued as we all proceeded to pass out in our own little tents. It remained a peaceful campground until about 3am when a windstorm whipped through the prairie, thankfully we were spared the rain as most tents were lacking in tarps and rain shields. The whole team commented on the shaking of their tent walls and wailing of the gale force winds.... except Bosco, our beloved tent-setting-cabana-boy had slept through the whole thing!

SUNDAY 6/26
A late start (WHAT IS it with the dilatory nature of this team?!) contributed to my succumbing to the 35mile option instead of the recommended 75mile course. While I am grateful to my team for talking my off that ledge, thus allowing me to complete the Tour under the power of my own wheels with no SAG's or injuries, I was melancholy at settling for an MS110 instead of MS150. Sulking, I followed the passive pace and had an easy and fairly enjoyable ride. Crossing the finish line seemed bittersweet as it was a far cry from my initial goal of 175miles, (wildly unrealistic) and didn't even muster 150miles (realistic, but I was unprepared). A low-key afternoon was spent getting my medal, meal and massage (mmmm, massage) and waiting for our 75-milers to get in. T and L arrived first and considerably later B and D roared up (considerably long enough to get sunburned shoulders, OUCH!) looking at them both covered in sweat and looking pretty threadbare did ease my mind about my lessened mileage, but only slightly. The team quickly dispersed and a placid ride back to the city lulled me to sleep.

Overall, it was a really wonderful opportunity and quite fun. I am already anxious to make it even better next year...complete with 150miles.

Yep, I'm old!

2005-06-23T11:08:00.000-05:00

Then only conciliatory thing about my birthday is it means my mother is twice my age today as well.

(Oh, and the condolence Vanilla Bean Coolatta I treated myself to this morning. Ah, to be a Cancerian in sultry summer heat!)

You tell dem trade me right f**king now!

2005-06-15T09:11:00.000-05:00

To paraphrase Denis Lemieux in that paragon of murder on ice, this is what I told my headhunter last Wednesday. Since then, I have been amidst a flurry of interview insanity as after almost 2 years of exemplary freelance work, my day job tried to boot me with a mere 2 days notice.

This would not normally faze me in the least, as the core principle of contract work is that there is an endpoint (unlike those poor permanent folks who, in theory could slave away forever!) But, there is an unwritten sort of contract code. It maintains, that I will not simply walk offsite without making a reasonable attempt at leaving things finished. They, in turn will give me a heads up that the work will be ending so I can re-book myself in a timely fashion.

Or you could do it the wrong way. My temptation to mock-up up a step-by-step manual on how NOT to terminate an employee and leave it on the studio manager's desk is rather prodigious.

Here are some excerpts from her present manual:

The Wild Kingdom Approach: Call the "former contractor" in question into your office at 12pm as they are headed out the door for lunch; this catches them off-guard and weak from low blood sugar.

The Spacely Sprocket Mentality: Ask for their current job list/deadlines so you can pawn the work of on another staff member; all staff with the same job titles are interchangeable cogs and years of experience on an intricate scientific brand is more of a hindrance than a help.

This should always be followed with:
The Borg Treatment: The cog....er..."former contractor" can easily download her memory chips to the new cog and management can add any physical enhancements to adjust for Photoshop ability and mcps (mouse-clicks-per-second) to easily maintain the current schedule and budget that were laid out with the "former contractor's" attributes in mind.

The Muddled Mambo: What the management does upon realizing the new employee they "hired" hadn't officially accepted their offer yet and needs to give two weeks notice if he does. They are also pounced upon by the "former contractor's" team for lack information flow and attempt at mutilating a crucial project by removing the key worker bee. This tap dance ends, by finally letting the "former contractor" know at 4:55 on Friday afternoon that it would be best if they stayed to finish their work for a sense of continuity.

I wish I were kidding.

Anyone have 1.21 jigawatts of bandwidth available?

2005-06-07T09:04:00.000-05:00

Sorry for the delay in posting weekend pics, apparently Blogger is a size critic and did not receive my pretty flipbook of pictures with open arms! Nor did the PhotoCenter enjoy trying to parse it, although those folks were nice enough to send me a smug little email "It's 3072 x 3072 size limit dumbass!"

So, everything is spliced to fit in their nice little round holes, and you can view the rest of thepictures here. Enjoy!

That was Rome not Paris. This is Paris and you're drunk.

2005-06-06T09:19:00.000-05:00

It's been awhile since I wrote, and this weekend certainly provided a plethora of material! The past weekend was spent in the loving lap of luxury better known as The Four Seasons, Chicago. Bosco had nights to burn before the 11th and I was game to vacation in my own city...really, the four-star accommodations had nothing to do with it *wink*! There was a big surprise in store for both of us though, as an executive suite available and we were upgraded to even nicer digs than usual. Leave it to your beloved writer to misbehave and show her plebeian roots however! On entering the sitting room of said suite, (Bosco had arrived early and not informed of me of the suite-digs) I asked rather perplexed, "Where's the bed?" After it was explained to me that the Four Seasons did not have rooms featuring only pull-out sofas, the glass doors were swung open to reveal the downy white of cumulous of that familiar King-Size bed!

On the way up to the room on Saturday, the elevator provided a moment of comic relief as well; I had hurried back over after a bike ride and was in baggy capris and a Pixies t-shirt. A newlywed couple had entered the elevator ahead of me with a basket of champagne and cheese, mincing quickly behind us was a well-to-do socialite. After punching in her floor number, the new bride tapped me on the shoulder with a funny look upon her face "Funny, I thought I would be the only one wearing a Pixies t-shirt at the Four Seasons!" Sure enough, she had a green one on! We then dished about where we had seen the band and how great it was they had finally re-grouped. Meanwhile, the steam was rising off of the socialite's Louis Vuttion bag faster than you can say "CHARGE-IT"! If we lived in pop-up video world, her thought bubble would've read "I can't believe they let these people into the Four Seasons now, I'M moving to the Peninsula!"

The Saturday night pics of the room that follow were a tad blurry due to several adult beverages consumed by the photographer trying to ease the pain of the Wolves getting their legs broke by the thugs otherwise know as the Philadelphia Phantoms AHL Hockey Club. We shall talk no further of that night!

Sunday brought about the Four Seasons brunch, and might I say if you have the means, do so....it lived up to the hype! I had rose early to get in a nice workout as to be extra hungry; it’s a pretty pricey affair and one should plan on packing away 3-4 plates to make it worthwhile! After a quick shower (yes, that is what we're calling it these days!), Bosco and I headed downstairs, feedbags in tow. The “brunch” featured 3 rooms filled with food of such variety it would take me 4 entries to fully detail it! This also brought about another "Jen Moment". As we were finishing our first plate, I went to refill my coffee out of the tableside sterling silver carafe. The prissy little lid stuck on me and filled my cup, the saucer and a quarter of the linen tablecloth. I blushed in absolute terror and sheepishly looked at Bosco, apologizing profusely. He laughed (this is why I love this man!) and assured me this happened all the time. The room captain came back, took my cup away and brought back a fresh one as I apologized profusely to him for being a very bad bruncher. My shame was eventually hidden as between plates 2 –3, the staff having reset my place setting with a napkin draped over the stain. Thankfully, they didn't also inquire "Are you going to need a place sheet miss?"

So, stuffed with blintzes, duck rolls, quiches, gingered nectarines, garlic shrimp, sweet pea risotto, coconut lobster, hazelnut tiramisu, raspberry pistachio cake, chocolate lava muffins, raspberry chocolate tart, crème brulee, orange juice, coffee and a bloody mary.....yes, I ate all that....a return to the more common, but equally as nice, Studio de Bosco was embarked on, and a really, really, really long nap. I will not be eating until Tuesday!

PS: Sorry no pics yet....someone (no names) saved the dang file too small!

Mommie's allright, Daddie's allright, they just seem a little weird

2005-05-24T07:50:00.000-05:00

Cyber-greetings to all. Some cyber-apologies as well for dangling a Boston Part Deux Monday edition and then not posting a dang thing.

My parents were in town this past weekend.

Anyone that knows me or them should need no further explanation, and will be happy to know that my fists are now in down and unclenched positions and the wrinkle between my eyes is a mere crevasse.

They drive me crazy, as most parents do...but they take this enforced psychosis it to such bizarre extremes that I can usually win any "My parents are kookier than yours." contest with the amount of energy it takes to run a hotplate.... on low.

Disclaimer: It should be also duly noted, that I love both parents very much and realize that this over exuberance is merely delight in their firstborn.

Some fun tidbits from this bedlam visit:

A highlighted vacuum cleaner manual: Because sometimes the bold manufacturer's print is just not enough and who knows what anarchy might arise if the 'Hose Wand' is not firmly attached!

2 plastic Milk Crates: Normal enough yes, but the kicker is these were snatched from an alley behind Pier One by my mother while we waited for them to load a table in the car. Apparently she used these at home for my brother's jeans and they are 'a godsend'. To her credit, she also spent an hour scrubbing them out in my bathtub. That elbow grease will undoubtedly come in handy when she's convicted for petty larceny and put in charge of the prison laundry.

A clean 9-inch skillet: Both folks got in on this culinary contest. A pan I had used for grilled cheese was slighted scorched (I'm used to gas stoves) and harmlessly sitting in my drainer until I could remedy the problem. No less than 7 cleansing products and 4 attempts by each parent were involved. There was also a panic-stricken cry for a Jewel visit to bring in reinforcing cleansing troops, as it appeared the offensive pan was winning. In the end, I have a clean pan and a lecture on "How to properly cook on a electric stove" to show for this.

All and all it was a pretty successful visit, they are lovely people to see in short doses and no major structural damage was done. (The chuck to my drill was 'missing ' for most of the weekend!) As an added bonus, I no longer live like a savage and have properly alphabetized spices on civilized shelf liners.

And people wonder why I'm strange?

Just For Wookies with 50% Grey Coverage!

2005-05-20T07:50:00.000-05:00

Okay, I promised Boston Part Deux, forgetting I had an appointment this morning! So here's a little Photoshop Phriday Phun! This came about when I realized Chewie had to be at least 50 years old by the original series...turns out by Episode 4 he's 200 according to the StarWars.com databank. He's looking good, but I don't think those highlights are natural!

Now in and Kashyyyk Khaki and Bantha Brown!

A Wicked Good Time: Part I

2005-05-19T09:15:00.000-05:00

Pictures from my trip to Boston are finally up here! Here's Part I of the journey (Part II tomorrow):

Friday
Arrived at Chicago Midway around 4ish to beg for an earlier flight...which we received only to have it be delayed out of Minneapolis/St. Paul (my hometown) of all places! It is common knowledge that on a good day I'm a nervous flier, and I was not looking forward to the 2-hour purgatory sans ground to Logan. Bosco stepped up and kept me distracted and remarkably calm though, and as a bonus we can both recite the entire contents of the AirMall magazine! (It fascinates me that only when airborne it would occur to a person "HEY, there's that weed thrasher I've been meaning to get!")

Our arrival was once again delayed courtesy of the airport shuttle to the T, which runs with the frequency of tree sap. Upon embarking on the Blue Line T to the city, it was discovered by my rattled nerves that THIS particular train had an alert signal that strongly resembled an air raid siren. It's un-mellifluous *WWHHHAAAAAA* sent my teeth jittering every stop all the way into the city. The first "real" bit of Boston I saw was the steaming kettle on Court St. Thankfully, my beloved has endless patience and was a good sport while I stood slack jawed in front of said spectacle while pointing and jumping "IT STEAMS!!!" We then quickly dumped baggage at the Parker House, and went looking for dinner. (It was a nice place, though not as impressive as one would think for having hosted The Saturday Club and employing Malcolm X.)

Saturday
An early wakup call awoke us for a journey down to the workout room to accrue some mileage on the exercise-bikes (it's too close to the MS 150 ride to skip even a weekend of training!) We then ventured out to scavenge for breakfast, which was found at Finagle-a-bagle. This is the funniest, most ultra-violent bagel shop on earth...when you place you order, they send your bagel on a conveyor belt, which goes through a spinning 12-inch discus of doom to be sliced in half. Finally, cartoon violence has a place in real life!

The walking tour began and we whipped through downtown, up to Fenway for lunch at the Boston Beer Works and then on to Harvard. We were tempted to swipe some juice from the Physics Club Open House, but decided to obey the law and make goofy faces in front of the giant magnifying glass instead. A quick train ride back to Faneuil Hall then produced some tourist watching and a trip to the wicked cool toy store, Zoinks! (It was absolutely wicked cool and featured a life size Boba Fett!)

At this point exhaustion began to creep in, and it was decided to return to get our bags and take a nap in the Common before meeting "The Sister." The now 'blog-famous' Fried Dough stand was found and documented, as was a nice green space with squirrels to snooze. The travels the continued with a trip up to Brockton for dinner. "The Sister" was there waiting to pick us up and greeted me with "Ya Haat Him an' Ah'll Kill Ya....Hi, I'm J." Introductions over, we then continued to dinner at Christos, the local Greek restaurant.

A low-key Saturday night was spent in Taunton, Mass. with some friends and I was thrilled to just sit and ventilate for awhile.
-----------------------------------
Part II: Revenge of Sunday/Monday tomorrow!

and Paul Revere sneezed here....

2005-05-18T08:01:00.000-05:00

Back from Boston! It was more fun than a boat full of tea! Full pictures posted tomorrow, apparently Chicago did not handle itself well in my absence and there are some messes to be cleaned up!

Follow the red brick line!

Meet the Keatings

2005-05-13T06:02:00.000-05:00

Happy Friday to everyone! In a mere 10 hours I will be in flight to that Cradle of Modern America commonly known as Boston. I will also be meeting Bosco’s family for the first time. This has my stomach pulling loop-d-loops faster that a whole boxload of matchbox racers. I have been warned in particular about his sibling who hasn’t stopped sharpening her knives over his ex-wife, and of the fact that if she does threaten me such as:

“You haht mah brudha, and you betta book outta here or Ah’ll take ah clabbid to ya quayah skeeza skull.”

...that I would be pretty much helpless but to nod and say, “Mmm, okay then, what you said.”

(FYI: Blogger's spelling editor just about coughed up a formatting lung on that sentence above, RIP Lingo!)

That aside, I’m salivating over this mini-vacation, it will be my first one in about 3years! (I do NOT count going home (MN) as a vacation, that is a daughterly duty…when my parents move to the Virgin Islands, THEN it will be a vacation!).

Lastly, for those who are also trying to come off as a passable Boston Native, here’s a site I’ve been using to cram for this weekend.

Eat Your Heart Out, Architectural Digest!

2005-05-10T08:26:00.000-05:00

Well, it might be a month or so before I can make so bold a statement! Pictures are up of the new place here. It still has that light film of moving dust on it, but various people that I share more than a chromosome or two with have been loudly bemoaning, "When can we see the new place?!" (Most of these people are a minimum of 400miles away, and due to their great fear of Chicago (as opposed to nice safe Zion?) and my incessant need to move, will only see my digs in cyberspace.)

So, the virtual welcome mat is officially out!

Issue 01: Tales from the Bike Trail

2005-05-09T07:39:00.000-05:00

It is my intention to make this a regular feature on the blog, and I am a mere 5 moving boxes from making this a reality (I should really be cleaning, not blogging!) Over the past several weeks of riding I've noticed there is inevitably a moment of hilarity and one of such absolute stupidity, one would never imagine it could be topped...until the next weekend of rides when it is. So here's the first installment!

Funniest Moment: I had been conversing with mopundow Co-captain T about my purchase of an uber-comfy bike seat with gel padding and a love canal to relieve muscle stress. His reply?

"Love canal? Now all I can think of is Jimmy Carter and those silly yellow booties."

...and if he was wearing gel-insoles it would make the evolution of thought complete!

Stupidest Moment: A 50-year old couple, walking in the MIDDLE of the bike path. (There are 2-lanes one north, one south to be SHARED by foot, bike and other non-motorized transportation) This is a common occurrence, but what puts this in the Annals of D'OH is the fact that they were both carrying full cups of steaming coffee.... not paper from a coffee shop, but ACTUAL ceramic cups, no lids. This is next to bikers, joggers and rollerbladers whizzing by; anyone else smell the fresh grounds of a lawsuit?

Well, Ya Shure! You Betcha!

2005-05-06T13:05:00.000-05:00

Unfortunatly, these phrases were not offered in the quiz, otherwise I'm sure my total would reflect "You might be a Midwestern hick if..." Funny nonetheless, although not to surprising that it's mostly Midwestern as I grew up in Minnesota...the Dixie makes somewhat sense as I was born in the Maryland/Virginia/DC vicinity, the Yankee I have no idea other than knowing quite a few folks from the Northeast, my beloved Bosco included!

Your Linguistic Profile:

50% General American English

20% Upper Midwestern

20% Yankee

5% Dixie

5% Midwestern

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

PS: Thanks to Logan'sDave for the tip on the quiz!

VH1 presents: Team mopundow, behind the riding

2005-05-04T09:19:00.000-05:00

Our bike team for the MS Ride now has a team page, much thanks to our rider and programmer in residence J for doing a rockin job! She also, guessing correctly that it would take 5,000 emails and threatening of body part removal to get our loveable, but laissez fair members to write their own bios and submit pics, went ahead and gave us a "start". Mine is remarkably accurate, quite amazing considering she only met me for about 15min. There's even a picture that bears a remarkable resemblance to your humble author. It's quite fitting that all the captains are shown drenched in blood...that's right we will bleed for this team, and if it means eating live chickens, so be it!

Here's the link for the curious: team mopundow web site

Meloncholy and Infinite Sadness

2005-04-29T05:37:00.000-05:00

I'm cutting the cord this morning. Both physically (as in my modem) and psychologically (as in departure from a powerful 3-year chapter in my life). Why it didn't occur to me that I would be emotional over this move is beyond me...this is on the surface a move across town, but in reality the boxing of a very emotional time in my life.

It started, coincidentally last night while biking down to get more tape and some wrapping paper for my sweetie's birthday present (he really needs a nickname for this blog, I'm thinking Bosco for now.) Riding back, I ended up taking Paulina home. (cue: Theme from "The Way We Were") This is a route I use to take a billions time a week when I lived there with D. Even rode past our old apartment (yes, the music now quick changes to BNL), where we both happily and very un-happily cohabitated fro almost 3 years as well.

It struck me, through some weepiness this morning that I am really leaving the area of Chicago I have called home for 7 of my 8 years here (half a year was spent in Rogers "Gangland Warfare" Park and a few months in Lincoln "Trixieville" Park renting a friend's guest room after the Big Breakup.) This will also mark the longest distance I've lived from Logan's Dave in 5 years, and I've taken for granted the luxury of having him as good friend and neighbor. This is an end to running over to "D&S's" for ER nights to share a bottle of vino, dropping by to loan a tool or cooking utensil, getting a hug after a hard day or passing out to watch movies on the couch after a brutal bike ride.

Hallmark commercial aside; I am very excited about my new place, it will be amazing to have heat and solid walls and the gloriousness of eating toast whilst sitting in front of my air conditioner (see this entry re: fuses). I will also have an Express bus right outside my door to swoosh down to Bosco's in a record 15min trip (this will be particularly meaningful to local Chicagoans in our CTA crisis; I presently live of the Brown line which runs whenever it feels the need to). These are all good changes, and I am quite sure I will acclimate to things quite duckily. But, for this morning, I'm wistful wandering back through room and past memories. Heck, where I'm sitting right now, and about this time was the inception of this very blog.

*sigh* (cue: "Memory" from CATS)

Employee Handbook p25“Removal of a Underwear from a Common Hallway”

2005-04-27T12:16:00.000-05:00

There is no page for this in the company handbook or procedural instruction, and amazingly we as an Art Studio are in dire need of page 25 right now. Somehow, a pair of men’s teal BVD brand briefs landed in our hall by the printers. How this happened, the location of their owner are and MOST importantly re-routing of the walking traffic pattern until someone finds a long stick to remove said undies are all underway.

Moving on up....to the Lakeside!

2005-04-21T01:16:00.000-05:00

Hi Blogosphere, it's been awhile...it's trite, but I've been busy. The biggest fence I've been perfecting my jumping form on is my impending move next Saturday to the delightful (or so I've heard) Belmont Harbor area. Believe it or not, I've had actual requests for visual progress reports, so I bring you...."Jen's Move Cam"....this might be a recurring feature over the next 10 days if impressive box elevation or unfortunate quagmires entail. For those not in the know, this is all I have accomplished boxing of a 1-bedroom apartment; you may now utter whichever phrase of pity you prefer...I personally like "Glad I'm not her!"

A Game of Dining Room Jenga anyone?

A is for "Assistant to Managed Chaos"

2005-04-13T00:36:00.000-05:00

"Hup, two, threem four, gonna bike 12 miles more!"

So today, Logan's Dave, fearless capitano of my MS bike team graced me with this dubious honor. I embellished the "managed chaos" part...but he did pull me up from the rank of unwashed bike shorts to a recognized leadership role on the team. EEK! RECOGNIZED! EEK! LEADER! This is partially due to my questioning his considering adding another assistant captain to the team. While I was fine to slug away in the trenches under Dread Pirate Dave and Assistant Cohort T, the addition of another assistant did rankle my tail feathers. My sparse postings here are testament to a lack of free time....much of which has been recycled into writing pub quiz rounds, design team jerseys, coordinating vendors, training and even providing a sane shoulder for our mighty leadership to lean on when it gets too crazy at the top. While I wasn't gunning for any special accolades, it was upsetting to ponder someone else getting such a position without having done anything much to earn it. But, big mouth opened, this official title has now been extended and it's up to your very tired narrator to try and fill those stripes. Do I want to BE a biking ranger? Do I WANT to lead a life of danger? Only 175 miles will tell for sure!

PS: The "A" designation of the jerseys comes from Dave's, (and T's and mine for that matter) obsessive love of hockey which designates their leadership players with letters. See here for an explanation of such.

Brushing Off That Celebrity Pixie Dust!

2005-04-01T09:10:00.000-06:00

This is the kind of news you would read of in the Red Eye (the local Chicago rag) alongside "Kids in School Found Reading in Library" and that "Lindsay Lohan wears a size 9 shoe." But hey, it's my blog and today it's MacdullaOblogata Hollywood style! (Oh, and no, this is not an April Fool's thing!)

I saw my very first celebrity last night on Division Street, while walking tipsily home for the evening and right into Jon "The Daily Show" Stewart." My companion M even boldly shook his hand, dropping the name of his hotel where all the "Who's Who's" stay in whilst in Chicago....yes Mr. Stewart was in fact staying there. As we walked away, it seemed quite odd that of all places in Chicago he picked Division Street to hang out....although upon ruminating this morning it occured to me that many Chicago universities are on Spring Break and there were a fair amount of drunken co-ed's to be leered at.

The picture below, while not taken last night is a dead ringer.....apparently Mr. Stewart favors grey shirts and rumpled baseball hats when trolling for tail!

I'm not just a boy toy. I have feelings and dreams like anybody else. -Jon Stewart

Thurs-day, THURS-day, THURSDAY in a government building near you!

2005-03-31T07:30:00.000-06:00

This is unfortunately a day late thanks to blogger being down, but I got such a kick out of it yesterday overhearing it on the news.

Apparently a brawl broke out in the Russian Parliment Wednesday, and while some might frown upon this as being childish and immature, I say "BRAVO" and think the US could take a lesson. We hear about excessive petty bickering on the Hill...so let's bring it out front! Most of these august men look as though they haven't passed up a jelly donut in their tenure, so this initiative could make our Congress "pumped up" in addition to providing a healthy and quite entertaining anger outlet. And, with Fox pondering canceling "Arrested Development", there's a gigantic hole in their programming practically screaming "GOP Smackdown" as it's newest reality show.

Gives a whole new meaning to "Tied up in Judicial Committee by Spector!"

So this Girl Walks into the Osco....

2005-03-29T07:40:00.000-06:00

This is the kind of thing one expects to also include the proverbial "...and Man, did she bang her head!" I was over at my local Osco last evening for STICKERS of all things. For those not in the know, I'm riding in the MS150 (which could be 175 for me) Tour de Farms this summer; and due to inclimate weather and inconsolable laziness have not trained at all.

It was unbelievably luscious weather yesterday in Chicago, and perhaps that's what tipped my mental scales to "Hey, You have about 12 weeks until this feat of physical absurdity....MOVE THAT BUTT!" To that end, I went jogging 3 panting miles followed by some grueling weight-training (they were VERY heavy 5lb weights!).

Despite my hope that this would not be such an obstacle, my hamstrings and other muscles groaned and moaned quite loudly at this masochist act against them. Even a cold and refreshing chocolate "Tofutti" pop was not bribery enough. This finally brings us back to the title of this entry. As I am a sucker for any sort of reward or kudo (Best at Tying Shoes? HA! Take that Hilary Swank!), I thought perhaps getting some cute stickers for each day an "Act of Fitness" was accomplished to adhere to my calendar would appease my inner meritocrat and track my progress. Figuring on 60 or so days, I looked for the sticker packs with the most stuffed on a page...this turned out to be "Hello, Kitty." As I've always thought the clean cut designs of this Asian animae phenom kinda cool, I snagged a pack and headed for the checkout.

Here's where it gets weird. At the front check out line is "J" a fellow I had a brief and fairly pointless association with last year. "J" loved animae, and was a "Hello, Kitty" freak....it always seemed weird to me that a caucasian man of heterosexual orientation would have "Kitty" calendar, desk set and pink puffy rugs. Thus, I quickly ducked behind a thankfully quite husky fellow carrying beer and was not spotted.

Reason #536 to Move: Less chance of sticker triggered ex-encounters.

Happy Hip-Hop Easter!

2005-03-27T16:51:00.000-06:00

Best wishes to everyone celebrating! Here's a dorky little ditty a friend sent me and in my frazzled state, it brought a laugh...to see the full flash movie, go here.

P. Diddy Cottontail's new pimped ride for crusin down that bunny trail!

Eat my subconcious dust Project Greenlight!

2005-03-15T08:11:00.000-06:00

This is a a week late (thanks to blogger being screwy and another ferocious week), but just too friggin' weird not to share. I arrived home yesterday morning from my home away from home (aka: the boyfriend's pad) at around 7am. Upon completing my morning toilette; cereal, coffee and a shower, I decided alloting twenty winks to Katie Couric's banal insights on the Prison Poncho were in order.

Alas, I fell FAST asleep only to awaken with 8minutes left to still hit my train and be reasonably on-time to work, I had snoozed a mere 12 minutes, but my subconcious had managed to yank out the mental crayolas and draw a very strange picture, the detail which follows; Eat my shorts, Freud!

(scene opens: Jen's overflowing desk at work, color prints of Sales Aids, Flashcards and Direct Mail ensconce our heroine, her phone rings every 3.2 seconds and email dings 1.4 creating a cacophony of corporate white noise.)

Jen: "Sheesh guys, can't some of this wait until tomorrow? I have dinner plans and don't want to cancel for a fourth time!"

Souless Account Person:I suppose, we can't piss you off enough to leave until that mitochondrial DNA sample we took grows tall enough to reach the keyboard."

Jen:"Wheeee!"

(heroine leaves, taking a long and cold train ride home to the North Side of Chicago, fumbles for key and enters her apartment. Heroine is startled that her living room now has doilies, a green-checkered couch and heart-shaped wreaths on the wall.)

Jen: "Huh? Why does it look like Martha Stewart is on the lamb in my apartment?"

(further investigation shows that NONE of our heroine's meger possesions are in the apartment...not even the fat cat! She camps out on the icky couch and watches cable for awhile to figure out a plan of attack. Suddenly, the door swings open, and a girl strongly resembling Mena Suvari enters.)

PsudeoMena: "What are you doing in my apartment?!!!"

Jen: "YOUR apartment? My lease expires May 1st, it's March who in blazes gave you a key and where is my cat!"

PsudeoMena: "I have no idea what you are talking about, the management group said this place was vacant and I moved in this morning."

Jen: "You're crazy, they're crazy...it was a flippin' VIEWING they left me a message about, you can't sign a lease if I'm still under one.....seriously, did you let the cat out or what?"

PseudoMena: I'm calling the cops, you have 20minutes to vacate MY home."

(PseduoMena runs upstairs to a loft apartment where her friends apparently live, Jen dashes across the street to where her good friend Dave lives and rings the buzzer.)

Jen: Dave, You gotta help me, Mena Suvari stole my cat and is probably trying to roast her for kebabs with the upstairs neighbors!"

(Dave comes downstairs to let the heroine in, he has been having tea with her mom ****ASIDE: Dave and Jen's mom are like SpongeBob and the Christian group "Focus on the Family" in the same room*** Dave lets Jen upstairs and they plot a plan to oust Mena, recapture Twyla the Cat and make the property managment group rue the day began in ernest. Jen's Mom asks "How have you been?" "You never call anymore?" and vanishes to the sidelines)

After sneaking back to Jen's place and up to the neighbors, mewling is heard, the upstairs neighbors DO have Jen's cat and she's locked up in a cage. Dave frees Twyla, interupts a facncy dinner party and starts to beat the stuffing out of PseduoMena.

Kim JongII then starts dropping nukes on the Ciy of Chicago and it's every neighborhood for itself, Jen, Dave, Twyla, Mia (Dave's cat), and most of the teams from The Globe Pub Quiz form a rebel "army" much akin to "Red Dawn" and stake out the viaduct @ Western and Belmont.

-----end dream------

Wish I could provide a nice Hollywood ending, but at this point I awake in a "EEEeeeekkkk I overslept state" to Matt Lauer "oohing and "ahhing" over the new Spring Skirts on the Today's Style segment....equally disturbing but at that point I did the 6min iron and dress running like crazy out the door to catch whatever train would speed me to work sprint.

**ASIDE Part Deuce: It should be noted that Jen is apartment searching as her place is a fancy tenement on a fair day, and that her managment company has called her twice to show her place with less than 20min notice. She watched a program on mitrochondrial DNA on PBS Monday, had to work until 8pm last Friday, Kim Jong was a question on Tuesday's Pub Quiz and hasn't talked to her Mom in a week. Mena Suvari? Well that's anyone's guess!

Beantown Bound

2005-02-28T18:34:00.000-06:00

It's official, tickets are booked and I'm heading to Boston for the first time in May! The image I'm paying "homage" to is from the Accordion Guy's website, and one of my favorites....hope he doesn't mind me absconding with it for now, as my travel plans involve full-tourist mode and coming back with 2 full camera cards of all that is and is not the fabulous town of B. And, after sorting through the trainwreck of what I thought was endlessly amusing at the time shall hopefully emerge MY perfect Bostonian icon. Now, back to practicing dropping my AHS!

Mmmmmm Doughy!

The Jentinental

2005-02-21T17:15:00.000-06:00

I have but three passions in life. One of which...is fine champagna!

The Four Seasons Chicago, She is soo nice, both delicious...and dangerous. Her fluffy downy pillows terminate against the sharp corners of a Louis XIV sidetable, perfect for a quick concussion before proceeding to the spa. There too, a strange world awaits for those with enough cunning and prowness to navigate the labryrinth of the ladies locker room and reach the mecca of an opulent swimming pool/hot tub combo. And, to make the journey from your swanky surrounds to the land of muscle relaxation, this 5-star queen will even bedeck you in the coziest of terry robes and matching slippers to ride the elevator in style.

After a sumptuous slumber beneath a snowy comforter, do not miss her fabulous brunch; we know it is no good for us...but we give in...for the sensual pleasure of savory shrimp salad with the essance of oil from olives of a puratinical nature and a martini glass of pineapple teased with inebriated peaches who are being whipered to by a cloud of creme fraiche.

In other words, I swanked it up this weekend and celebrated the "Day of Dead Rich White Guys" in style; I managed to avoid injury, found the pool 2 out of 4 attempts, proved my plebian roots by uttering "Damn, this is good fish!" in the Seasons dining room and am now the proud owner of a pair of Four Seasons slippers (they expect you to take them, otherwise they are out faster than a certain Simpson's character). Special thanks to M for playing Pygmalion and providing the winter escape.

Join us again later this Spring (if the Boston location is available, fingers crossed!) for another chapter in the life of...The Jentinental.

Trials and Ovulation

2005-02-19T14:00:00.000-06:00

Today was the big day of my retest to find out why exactly my cells were atypical and of an undetermined insignificance. Although I was plenty wiped from some raucous bowling at 10pin last night, I was eager to bring this nerve racking little chapter of my life to a close... and even smiled as the alarm started its clarion whine this morning.

As I exited the train and started to walk towards the clinic, I blinked upon seeing a large crowd of people gathered outside...."Wow, guess everyone ran out of Yasmin at once!" I thought, rather amused. To my revulsion, upon pulling closer to the throng, they were revealed to be a creepy little semi-circle of protesters complete with leatherette bible.

Having never been to a medical facility that would draw a crowd, this was a bit of a shock and suddenly I could feel adrenaline start to pump through my system. Fear was the first emotion to strike, "What if they throw something?" or "What if they start shouting at me? I don't think I can really deal with being called a sinner for getting a confirming Pap Smear." Since it was early, I decided to loop the block until closer to my appointment at 11:15. At 11:10, I cruised back around the block to come once again upon the religious zealots...now they were holding hands and praying. But,in addition, there were now two very burly bouncers in yellow "Planned Parenthood" vests guarding the door. I cut a wide swath around the circle, presented my ID to the guards and entered.

This really REALLY flippin' pissed me off. While I respect the right of any group to object and demonstrate, the small-minded pointlessness of their actions is infuriating. On my hike around the neighborhood to gather my courage to pass the group and enter the clinic, I passed a church with a line of homeless people forming for a hot meal; how ridiculous that these demonstrating "Christians" instead of doing something useful for humanity ie: passing out the proverbial fish and loaves down the block chose instead to harass and intimidate women that were not only there for abortions and birth control, which is what I presume incited their wrath, but to be counseled for rape, tested for disease and educated about their bodies.

I almost wanted them to tell me I was going to hell, just so I could shout back "I might have cancer, these people are providing me with an affordable test that if it's positive, will save my life!....What? Jesus doesn't want me for a sunbeam if I have cervical cancer? Go to hell yourself!"

But alas, I am no closer to a diagnostic reprieve despite the rocky path to the waiting room. Once my name was called, it was discovered that the intake clerk had scheduled me too early; my cells hadn't gone through a whole cycle of regeneration and wouldn't be ready to look at until April. So, back to the purgatory of waiting I go!

Rest In Peace

2005-02-17T07:48:00.000-06:00

Since ESPN beat me to the graveside some flowers in memorium of the season that wasn't...now can someone tell me where to send these?