Discombobulation Station

Secondhand Queasiness

God I used to remember how much fun I could have in a thrift store. A few weeks ago, roommate Bef went down to the Village Thrift on Lawrence and came back with a haul - a really sexy pair of strappy heels, a few cute and warm sweaters, and a short white fur coat that seemed to be in great condition - all for only $40. I had been planning on going, and even though everything is half price on Mondays, I needed a little Halloween costume addition for this weekend. So off I went on my bike in lieu of the yoga studio (an hour and a half - I just can take it - give me an hour long class and I'd be there every day!)

Unfortunately it's a lot closer than I thought so I was there in no time. Parked the bike, tried to get in the door, but someone in a cart was actually blocking the entrance to the store. Keep it movin old man there's plenty of shopping to be done INSIDE. As I was navigating the front area a service announcement came over the loudspeakers, as if for my benefit:

(Cue nasally Chicago accent): Attention shoppers. Please keep your valuables on you at all times. Do not leaves purses or personal items in carts. Beware of pickpockets in this store.

Well if that innit a vote of confidence I dunno what is. They pretty much guarantee that there is a pickpocket in there at all times. This is actually not surprising as I had an incident at a Village Thrift some years ago. A friend of mine was in town, en route from Hong Kong to California, and we decided to re-live our college ways and visit the ole Roscoe Village location. She grabbed a cart, pointed to the toddler seat section, and said, "throw your purse in there!" I had been living in the city too long to think that was a good idea, and said no way, but I forgot to tell her why. Her purse was gone within a half hour. We frantically searched everywhere and upon coming outside we found a large family all bundled in a circle looking at something - looking at my friend's camera. They refused to give it back even though her pictures were pasted to the outside (those teeny tiny Asian photobooth pictures were all over her shit). Finally, it took me running down the middle of Roscoe St. in high heel sandals and jumping into a cop car to get them to hand it over. It was all very exciting and thank god her purse was found inside, stuck on a hanger in some anonymous rack. Her car keys and passport were still intact. So anyways, yeah I know about the pickpockets in the thrift store.

But something about that initial announcement made me paranoid of all the people around me - and since 99% of them were immigrants, the personal space issue was non existent. I was waiting for that pickpocket to approach me. Is it this downtrodden old lady? Maybe she's s gypsy! Gypsies pickpocket for life I think. Is it this weird man wearing two pairs of trackpants? Oh its this older couple that smells like bacon! Gah keep going, weirdos!

And as I was pawing my through the jackets section (looking for a late '80s style lady's blazer, hopefully black with some blue patchwork on it), I had the sensation of my hands getting dirtier and dirtier. You know they don't wash these clothes. They come in from peoples homes, attics, closets, under the bed, god knows. And they hang them up and staple a price to them.

I tried to get into it, I really did, even circling the store and looking for any section that piqued my interest. Oh a whole aisle of red oh my! Wow a bunch of junk, like baskets and horrid knick knacks. VHS delight!

I finally checked out with my charcoal gray blazer and a .99c electric blue silk shell top that I am going to turn into a fanciful flower for the breastpocket. I couldn't wait to get home and wash my hands.

I can't decide if I've just grown out of my thrifting ways or if I'm getting weird because I'm spending so much (delightful!) time alone during the day.

E.

Noteworthy

This will probably be the one and only time D-Station links to P. Hilt, but this is kinda cool.

It's sorta redeeming, posting charitable causes.  You go, "Queen of all Media!"

xoxo, A

I'm Real Buzy, See

The freelance life keeps on keepin on. Its a terrible time for job searchin', as we all know. But maybe is an ok market for freelancers, because work has to be done, and well, someone has to do it. I know a lot of you who would like to quit your jobs, and I feel for you. Oh yes, when I finally opened my eyes this morning, after some approximation of an homage to my vampire book type dream, I did feel for all of you who have been slaving away for the past three hours already. So I had tea and cookies and went to see if you have emailed me. You didn't! But A. was online, glad to see me because she was bored. I can has entertain!

But I did a little more work on this, and lined up another meeting at an agency. I had one yesterday too! And a luncheon at an audio studio, and a lovely evening out with some old colleagues and some very generous vendors. How much food can one order at a winebar? A lot, apparently. But the wine went too quick for my tastes.

The weekends, when motoboy is free, are chock-a-block. We are beginning another round of travels, to Virginia and Cleveland and Florida, oh my! I'll certainly stock up on cheap cigarettes somewhere in there.

Also, I managed to do the summer-to-fall bin exchange in my closet. Motoboy keeps thinking I am wearing new boots, but new relationships are fun because he doesn't even know of my fall/winter collection. I am like a new woman to him every day. I am still on my scooter, however, making the quick trip to T.J.'s today to stock up on wine and TP. I had to take the back routes home, however, as the TP was strapped to the back of the bike. A little bit TMI I imagine. How much does that girl go to the bathroom, passing cars might wonder.

I read an entire screenplay at the coffeeshop too. And now am getting back to work on my little (hopeful) book of short stories about the ald country. Or my debaucherous years there in my early twenties. Am still trying to think of a clever title. Suggestions are welcome.

E.

They Call Me the Cake Man

OK, let's just admit I am prone to (mostly internalized) fits of pure rage lately. But you have to admit, there's a lot to be pissed off about. A LOT.  Gnashing of teeth! Pulling of hair! Argh gahhhh!!

Ahem. I am just trying to keep my blood pressure up, per my doctor's orders.

Well, today, we learned about something! new! to be pissed about. Have you heard about this shit?

Pay-to-Behave. The very notion is disgusting, and in practice it's...COMPLETELY DISGUSTING. 

For troubled school districts to adopt this sort of compensation is a pure admission of failure - in curriculum development, teacher education, parental engagement, and simple community relations. OK, I know a bit about the desperation that one can feel faced with 28 kids, maybe 6 of whom actually give a shit about being in school. Or whole GRADES, 2% of which read "at level." Mine own eyes have seen that truth. Oh, it's so desperate. You feel like you'd try anything. Phone calls home. Star charts. New lesson plans. Field trips. Anything! Strangely enough, though, handing my students greenbacks never, ever crossed my mind.

Are we really to believe, REALLY, that all that can possibly speak to children (and please to note, there is not a Caucasian face in any of the photos, not that anyone would actually explicitly mention this except for the conservative think-tank guy, of course) is money. Money. How about the promise of FUTURE money, as in a better paying job? Or... scholarships to college (also money)? Or avoiding become another statistic in jail (a good way to ensure that you will always be able to make money to a certain extent)? Or, hmm, how about - simple pride in your accomplishments or a fulfillment of your own curiosity?

What is WRONG with schools, bringing children into high school unmotivated and utterly tapped out of curiosity and pride? What is WRONG with our communities, our families? What, really, is the difference between Daamantae Brown and Joey Marro?

In spite of the fact that these programs are funded privately, taxpayers should be PISSED that schools are agreeing to sign on, effectively experimenting with the value systems of their communities. Parents should be PISSED that teachers and administrators are using this in lieu of developing programs to FIX their ailing schools, and ceding responsibility to big-daddy foundations. Educators should be PISSED that administrators are throwing up their hands and saying, in essence, "Kids, we give up. Let's make school another bit of drudgery that you have to endure for a few years before you get to the real drudgery of living for your paychecks." 

What's going to happen to these kids in a few years? Will they "behave" only if there's a cha-ching in their bank accounts everytime they do as they should? Are we going to have to start paying people to do things like not run people over or vandalize or steal? Are we all going to have to start abiding by the big-points-system-in-the-sky?

I don't have the answers. But people need to start asking these questions before we resign to a future of short-attention span instant-gratification dimwits. And don't tell me this is just part of evolution or something. That's too scary.

Our (potential) kids, my dear readers. Will we need to pay them to clean up their rooms?

Help.

xoxo, A

From the 'Home Office'

You would think the girl home all day would update more eh? Well, I haven't been completely at a lack for things to do. I've been very busy. I mean as soon as I get up at 10am, sometimes 10.30, there A. is flashing away in my IM. She needs immediate attention, even if I don't have much to say as the kettle is heating up. Then I check all three of my email accounts: one for friends, one for jobs, and one for a particular placement agency that doesn't like yahoo. But that gmail account is also open for more IMing. So by the time I get through all this news, the blogs, and the national headlines, its time for a nice long shower. A. thinks I must be the cleanest freelancers ever as I always seem be showering. And in between all of this activity I manage to meet people for lunch, design a new website portfolio, and keep up to date on current events/Sara Palin jokes. Although I can't repeat the last one (you naughty girl Sara!).

So here's my update.

1.) Scary movie.

2.) Best new website ever. I am hooked.

3.) Hint on saving money. Stay at home all day eating mac n cheese, then ask your boyfriend to come over later with wine and entertainment. Next thing you know you're asleep, and you hadn't spent any money all day! Repeat.

More soon.

E.

Stop the Presses

Now see I had a whole little post planned: "That's what you get for letting Buckner throw out the first pitch," blah blah blah. But NO. My post is RUINED.

And that's awesome.

In other news, the Straight Talk Express (no link=no traffic to a McCain-sponsored site, ok?) is parked right outside my office! Took some cell phone photos, but this one is even better (credit to Flickrer Robin Dude). Rootin-Tootin Palin is gracing my faire homeland with her presence. And while not ordinarily drawn towards acts of vandalism...wouldn't it be really, really hilarious to put an "OBAMA '08" sticker on that bus? And maybe some toilet paper. OR a few of the very soft, wasp-laden apples from underneath my parents' tree. Not that I'm suggesting anyone do that.

Or offering payment to any enterprising young turk who might be inclined to do so. Who would even think of such a thing???

Have lovely weekends, all.

xoxo, A

Helps the Medicine Go Down

To counteract all of my horrid bilious rantings, here is a spoonful of sugar:

The story of how my household goes to bed.

When we start to make getting-ready-for-bed movements, both the cats watch our every move from the stairs and Floyd the greyhound from the couch.  They are all very eager to go to bed after their hard day's relaxing on various soft surfaces, I suppose. Finally we give Floyd leave to go to bed but then he, with his best woe-is-Floyd-my bed-is-hard! eyes tries for about 5 minutes to guilt us into letting him get onto our bed. No, he can't. So then he flumps onto his bed, gives us hateful looks, and SIGHS.

By this time the fat cat has given in to temptation and has gotten onto my side of the bed. The FYC is almost always already in bed, reading (stupid removing contacts and washing off makeup takes longer...but then the bed is always warm, so perhaps lucky me). So then I have to move the fat cat from my spot and when I pick him up he uses his claws (accidentally) to turn down the covers. Very good service.  He is plopped onto the end of the bed until I have plopped me into position.

Then the fat cat spoons with me (helpful for sleeping-on-side). And then Streets grapples his way up to the FYC's side and goes spelunking under the covers and falls asleep wheezing and snortleing.

And, lo, upon the first indications of unconsciousness (snoring from a human, perhaps?), Floyd sneaks onto the bed. Which is hard to do, since he's 90 gangling pounds of muscle, snout, leg, and tail. Invariably he stretches his long ass legs out straight and the people end up curled into themselves diagonally to accommodate. Until we wake up enough to kick him off.

Every night, the same routine, 5 beings on a queen-size. It's crowded, but it's family. 

xoxo,

A

Halloween Season Begins

I am going to put up decorations today! And Friday my buddy Kerry has her opening show at Chicago Art Department. 

Here are the deets, I'll be there and also at the Halloween party!

Night of the Living Artist

A group show Curated by Kerry Flaherty, resident artist of The Chicago Art Department. chicagoartdepartment.org

Friday, October 10, 2008 through October 31, 2008.

Opening reception Oct. 10, 7-10pm, closing reception will also be a Halloween party on Oct. 31, 7 -10pm. “Night of the Living Artist” will be including our resident DJ, DJ Tapedek.

The Chicago Art Department

1837 S. Halsted

Chicago, IL 60608

The artists will be using their prefered media and pick an artist, musician, or author (living or dead) that was an influence and Zobify them. Some of those picks include Preston Blair, Franz Kafka, Oasis, and even Jim Henson. The Chicago Art Department (CAD) cultivates new and emerging Chicago artists. Through education, exhibition, artist residencies, and community building, CAD is dedicated to supporting new voices and ideas. “My hope is this common theme will show how a range of different artists can come together in one show. And also give a chance to those new artists, who may have never been in an exhibit.” says Kerry Flaherty. “Night of the Living Artist will have Fine Art, Illustrations, and even Plush Sculptors presented in a fun atmosphere.”

Gallery info:

CAD is in Pilsen

1837 S. Halsted St. between 18th and 19th Sts.

Bus: 8 Halsted. Fri-Sun noon-5pm.

For more information about the exhibit or for gallery

hours, contact The Chicago Art Department at

312.226.8601. Or go to plushinality.blogspot.com 

It's hard out there for a...single girl

Got this Wednesday night date wrap-up from a friend, and I feel terrible. People like this simply should not go out, or be on the internet at all. 

____________________

The date was....awful.  Total waste of lipstick.  This guy...was maybe the most negative human being I've had to sit through a meal with.  He hates everything.  Honestly.  Not bad looking, though not necessarily good looking either.  If he had a great personality, he could have been cute, but he had no discernible personality whatsoever.  First, we sat down and were looking over the menus.  I asked him if he was originally from Chicago.  He looked up at with with a sort of deer in the headlights look and said, gesturing to the menu "Um, can we do this first, because I can't do two things".  Really?  You can't peruse a menu and make small talk at the same time?  Also, he hardly EVER looked me in the eye.  He stared about a foot to the right of me.  He's a professor but said that he hated teaching.  He teaches social psychology, and I was asking what it was and how it differed from "regular" psychology.  It took him about 15 minutes to explain what it was.  Not because he was saying so much about it, but because he seemed to have no idea.  I asked him, if he hated teaching so much, what he wanted to do, what was his dream job.  He said "nothing".  What TV shows did he watch?  "I hate TV".  What movies?  "I really hate movies".  So, what do you do for fun, I asked?  "What do you mean?"  Well, at the end of the day, when you come home from work, what do you do?  "I don't know."  Well, what makes you happy?  "Happy?"  There has to be something, in the world, that makes you smile!  He floundered for a few minutes before stammering out that he was looking forward to winter because he liked the cold "but not in a good way".  He didn't like the food, except the fries which he referred to as "salty".  Then he pulled out a book on philosophers he was reading and asked me what I thought about a passage about Nietzsche.  I left as soon as I deemed it polite and ran home to watch Project Runway.

_________________________

I have to give my friend credit for trying to get some nugget of positivity out of him. I once had a date with a "comedian" which went much the same way. Such darkness....*shudder*. 

Maybe tonight we get my buddy a nice karaoking Korean boy, no?

E.

Hear Me Roar, INDEED

Have we talked about this yet, this ridiculous campaign season? Wait, E. has, in her urbane and informative way. Mostly I have been sitting around going ARGH and GRRR and GAH and sundry nonverbal expressions of disgust that increase in frequency and violence whenever Ms. Congeniality's face flashes on my TV. Or I hear her accent. Or someone says the words "Alayskya" or "yup!" or "Amayrica!" GAH ERRGH ARGH GNASH!!!

Ok first. Please to enjoy this funny thread before I continue upon my rant. 

********

Wasn't that funny? People on the internet, man, those people on the internet can be funny. 

Rant resumes: ON. And then there's the media, which is burning a special ring of rage into my already fiery pit of rage over the whole fucking STATE of our UNION right now. The media, which allows its members to utter such things as (paraphrasing until I can find the exact quote, right now I am too mad to be source-y, but there have been variants of this statement floating around since this damn debate was announced):  "If Biden is his usual self in the debate, and Palin gets upset, how will he not upset women?" 

Let's look at this statement. If mean-but smart Biden is his usual mean-but-smart self, and Ol' Marble Mouth McSix-Pack (honestly, I tried and tried to find a way to not despise her. But there it is) cries or something, gets upset because she loses at the big debate, WOMEN will be upset? Huh?

Don't upset WOMEN. We are hearing this phrase over and over, even before Palin. During the maybe-Hillary times. Remember those times? When everyone wondered, if Obama made it through, would upset WOMEN suddenly jump ship and support McCain? As if we are all one estrogen-flooded Borg-like being with ONE MIND. 

Kind sirs* of the media, remove thine heads from thine asses.  Having been a WOMEN nigh on 35 years now, I feel qualified to say all this. My political stance, quite honestly, has changed with my ages and stages, but as far as I know, did not morph with that of my fellow WOMEN at menarche. And guess what, very many of my fellow WOMEN have very different political beliefs from me.  I mean, E. is far enough left of me that sometimes we can't even talk about politics (Sorry, my dear co-blogger, I know you are wicked smart and probably mostly correct. It's this libertarian thing I inherited from my dad, I can't help it).

And my sister-in-law is a straight-down-the-ticket conservative from way back. Unlike HER mother, who is the only liberal in her entire family. My very own mother is a Reagan Republican who is in love with Obama because he reminds her of Kennedy. And my gal Swaying Jenny is a california conservative with some very strong opinions on the immigration issue. And my old roommate is a bleeding heart liberal pro-Israelite who would gladly force each of us to pay HALF our paychecks to social programs.

SEE media? SEE??? And that's just within my teeny tiny little band of WOMEN, and I haven't even listed half of the variants.

Grr arrgghhh. Etc. I shouldn't watch the debate tonight. But I will.  And tomorrow, after Biden wipes the stage with Her Lady of Hairdos, just you wait for the media reaction. Just you wait, my Women (and Danny).

xoxo, A

*and by sirs, we mean the ladies of shellac too. And by kind, I mean SHUT UP. GRR ARGH GAH! I need to watch the baby giraffes again. Pardon me for a moment.

****

Ah. That's better. Or at least it will be until later tonight.