Discombobulation Station

A Eulogy For The Castle

I think I once wrote on one of those Facebook "20 facts about me" things that I never thought I would leave this apartment. I would grow old, as an old maid, and stumble around my beautiful castle like a Grey Gardens catastrophe in Chicago. I was ok with it, although I found it a bit sad. I was single at the time, or if I wasn't I was still not convinced any boy could lure me out of here. My refuge. My home. My beautifully appointed, although rented, abode like I've never had.

Along comes motoboy, and his dog, and our love grew. He spoke of living together quite early on and I shrugged it off. We even hinted at him moving in here, but with the dog, and my parculiarities about furniture placement, it would have been a bad idea. A dog needs a patch of grass, and a motoboy needs a garage. Finally, one unseasonably warm spring day, having dinner alfresco in the square, I offered it to him. We should do it. I should grow up and be an adult, and be a real girlfriend who loves her boyfriend and we should do this living together thing. We surmised that September would be a good month. He would be done with various activities involving racing vehicles land and sea, and I would be well, given a few months to plan and deal with the idea.

Then I told lovely housemate Ms. B, and she soon figured out that her Mr. K would be glad to move in, so the place would not be in stranger's hands. It was set then, in a way. With four people sort of planning and dreaming and making moves towards the goal.

I was surprised by how little I enjoyed apartment shopping. Every house we approached, either by appointment or haphazardly, calling the number listed on the door outside, left me with a feeling of premature sentimentality. There is NO PLACE in the city like this place. I was a fool to think I could best it with a yard and a garage. For my budget.

But I was committed to my commitment, and when we found our little place, I was charmed. Its circa 1910, with the classic Chicago setup - large foyer, living room with bay windows, formal dining room with built in hutch and mirror, two bedrooms off to the side and an ample kitchen. Still in my neighborhood (same L stop!) so I wouldn't have to adjust too much. Close enough to Ms. B for quality Bravo TV programming nights, my favorite grocery, the pet shop where I buy overpriced cat food, the restuarant/nighlife area that suits all our needs. This neighborhood is adult without being stuffy, and hip without being overrun with similarly dressed and tattooed hipsters. It suits us. And although its not the cheapest place in town to rent, its still home to me.

So the next few days are going to be surreal for sure. I moved some boxes over last night, well mostly motoboy moved in some fit of moving enthusiasm (and maybe some guilt about my constant jabs at his lack of planning), and I felt half way there. Which is a good step. In some ways this is like a band aid that needs to be torn off, but in other ways I am savoring every moment.

Waking up and slowly appreciating the chandelier in my bedroom with the virgin mary and baby jesus ensconced in its molding, the wedding cake like trim above the carefully paneled walls. Making tea in the big kitchen while brushing my teeth in the beautifully tiled bathroom. Sitting in my window seat where I decompress, enjoying my bad habits as long as I am able.

One thing that does make me feel better is knowing that Ms. B & Mr. K might actually be able to enjoy this spot as their marital home. Those crazy kids got engaged a few weeks ago, and I think this will make a wonderful starter apartment for them. I bestow it with much graciousness, blessings, and good wishes. And I know I can come back any damn time I want.

Goodbye wonderful home! You treated me so right and were the toast of the town, who all declared "this is the best apartment I have ever seen in Chicago." I was lucky enough to call you home for over 8 years. My time is done.

xoxo

E.

WWAD*?

So, say you're sitting on your deck, on a fine summer night, drinking a glass of white wine.  You're a little sad because your awesome houseguests have returned to their metropolis but happy because the oppressive weather seems to be breaking.

Say you have been distracted from your wine for just a few minutes thinking about perhaps going upstairs to get a pair of jeans. JEANS! you think. How novel! To cover one's legs! And then you remember that this was an IM exchange with your coblogger this morning. I am really losing my shit, you think to yourself, repeating oneself to yourself. Oof, I'd better have another sip of my reisl....

Then, you see it. Yep. A fly is drowning itself in your off-dry white. Buzzkill much, little black fly?

READERS, I ask you. Do you:

A. Throw away the remainder of the wine, put the glass in the dishwasher, and and wash your hands for good measure?

B. Fish out the fly with your fingers, but then before you drink it, toss the wine off the side of the deck, then refill your glass?

C. Sip the remaining wine verrrry carefully, leaving the dead fly in a tiny little puddle of wine at the bottom of the glass? 

Well?

Waiting with wine-baited breath --

xoxo, A

*What would Alanis do?

Oh Hai

Remember me? I think I'm supposed to be a blogger. But then A took this great leap and blogged every day in November and I was so glad and happy and proud to see so much blog activity. I have been cheating and getting my interweb rocks off, so to speak, by status updates on facebook and I know...that just does not count, at all.

The problem is that I took this freelance gig in early October, and it was initially for just a month or so, and then it compounded itself into another client project and I didn't seem to be able to leave work until 7, 8, one time I was there till 1.30 in the a.m. and I thought that was really strange. Because of the nature of the work, feeling like a virtual Gumby (tm) (see that's what advertising does to you) being pulled in all directions, and having to be pleasant about it because it is sort of client service compounded with the fact that I'm freelance and want to be pleasant at all times for future hiring references where ever they come from...well. When I get home I am DONE. Like a fine piece of steak who is so worth her hourly rate (thank god for hourly in this situation, and overtime at that) who has just been done done overdone and has nothing left to say, or give, or contribute. All I want is to be entertained, ideally with no one else around to share in said entertainment. Think Glee, and V (the new one, which isn't even very good), and Top Chef, and Daily Show, on Hulu and in my windowsill. You know what that means.

Motoboy has had the brunt of it I'm sure, with a lot of "I'm going home and to bed" and "I'm just going to watch Cougar Town and drink wine in silence" but he's been really great about it. Acknowledging that its been hard on me, perhaps harder than the hispanic ad agency, yet without all the soul sucking posturing and the crazy Cuban man yelling at me bits. The money is great (out of debt!) and the experience really rewarding and educational. I am just plain spent though, whether its Monday or Saturday I am in recovery mode most of the time. 

It looks like I will be off for at least two weeks for the holidays, however, perhaps longer, and I am both glad and a little anxious about that. I'm sure the money will last, but I now have to get back into survivalist mode - roasted chicken to last for a week, Trader Joe's wine get togethers and trying to get the hook up at all the free industry parties in order to facilitate a social life and network.

You know what I really want to do though? Have a week off at home like I did in the summer. Call You, and You and YOU you know who you are (far flung friends, new moms, single friends dating people I don't know who you're dating and its driving me nuts, blogger friends and those around me who don't get any of my time even though I'm actually really, here.)

Also, in all fairness, this does qualify as drungen blogin, remember those days? Auntie Elbo opened a bottle of white about 2 hours ago and its just about gone.

Just wanted to say, I'm here. I'm reading. I'm living. And I think I want to move to Milwaukee. Who's with me? More on that later. (Might be nothing.)

xo

E.

The Year in Snog 2007

Guess what guys! I am baking tonight (my famous lemon tart, and peanut butter chip-chocolate cupcakes). And watching a marathon of When Harry Met Sally. So what better time than the present to deliver, Oh yea, long promised, late delivered - Snog List!

Can you believe it is volume IV*? Oh, the wisdom I have obtained. The life lessons. The...hangovers.

And without further ado - A's (probably last even mildly interesting) SNOG LIST.

OH! In case you forgot - snog: verb, to kiss lengthily, passionately or lustily (merci, peevish)

OK I said there wouldn't be any ado, so here's the list:

The Prince (MTHB 'o5, RTT, E would say GRTBR)

The Irish Carpenter (MAB '04 - winning the award for longest run on Snog List!, FN)

The Colgate Kiwi (MAB '07 - my one and only one night stand EVER! and he taught me about an awesome toothpaste)

The Senator (MAB '07, RTT)

FYC (MAP** '07, RTT, OG, THOHILMITY!!!***)

Not nearly as long as previous years, but boy, this was still a pretty noteworthy year. I am thinking I am going to have to come up with some other measure. Maybe a collection of recipes? Or stories about the cats and the greyhound? EEK. No.

Anyway, how was yours? Your year, I mean. You don't have to share your snogs unless you really want to.

xoxo, A

*that means Disco Station is 4 years old! Cranky little toddler, about to go to school.  Probably can read already and bosses around its little brother.

**new acronym: Met At Party. Can you believe we never employed that one before?

***another new one: Totally Head Over Heels in Love, Moving in Together, Yay!

Sh*tty Blogger #2

Hallo hallo

I wish I could say I'm past my crazytime. We prepare for this all year and it still astounds me. I can't explain exactly what it is that keeps me so tied up, strung out, and exhausted. Its your run of the mill phone ringing and emails coming, and FTP site updating, and juggle without leaving your seat type of stress. After Friday it should calm down. And then my coworker f's off to Europe while I handle her new productions. And then I go to Florida to see the new baby there, take care of my buddy and maybe help her move. The sun will be enough break for me.

But at any rate, all is well and I'm on my third vodka tonic here in the homestead. My new favorite show is The Millionare Matchmaker. Writer's strike wha?

I was at yoga last week and realized I had so much going on in my wee mind anyway. Not only all this work crunch, but also on Saturday B & I shot our first episode of the new webisode series we're launching before 1 March. We interviewed a very prominent Chicago poet. As producer I secured the camera, lights, reference interviews and editing capabilities. I shot it. Also I will edit and learn Final Cut Pro. Quite a load in this time of year. Also after Sunday Salon I'm seriously considering writing a book of short stories based on my two years living hedonistically and paranoid in Ireland. It's like Felicity, except with a lot more Guinness, and coffee, and Irish accents. I'm walking down Grafton Street, I've lost my wallet, but I'm having an epiphany! I've also decided to enter the dating world again, albeit electronically for now. I haven't even checked the site in a few days but was shocked - nay amazed! - that my inbox was not full upon the first night. Should I have left out the Harry Potter reference in the first question?

So for one who appreciates the life of leisure, in my free time I watch a lot of movies, in a still and comatose manner, which is healing for me. As of late: Transformers, which someone I went out with twice once likened to "a commercial for the armed forces." He has a point, but it was fucking brilliantly hilarious. Best to watch with SH who is a self professed fan from the glory days in the 80s. Waitress - I wasn't too engaged to begin with, but once you accept the sappy dialogue and hokey setup you'll be in store for a nice finish. The Simpsons Movie - why did it seem so entirely weird and disjointed? Was I too stressed out for it? Quirky French film called My Best Friend. Total treat if you can get over the French man-on-man love. Very sweet. The Lives of Others. Oh my goodness. I guess it won an Oscar for best foreign film last year and it was completely deserved. I was prepared for something gruesome and sad and strained, and it had a lot of heart. On Sunday I went downtown, somewhat hungover from wrap night wine party, and saw There Will Be Blood with Chel. Two hours and forty minutes and I don't know what to say. Not sure the story was carrying me along, the acting and cinematography was great, but I was jolted awake every two minutes by the overactive guy behind me, putting his feet up and down and around the seat next to me. What is that saying, hell is other people? By the time I got home I just wanted to go to a cabin in Wisconsin for two weeks with nothing but books and a roaring fire. It was good to see Chel tho.

Also, I managed to watch eight episodes of 30 Rock between Friday and Saturday, while prepping for my shoot.

Don't mess! More soon.

E.

Winterland Adventure

Were you beginning to think we'd never blog again? Oh, a healthy respite from the daily pull. I actually kept thinking over the weekend...is it midnight? Do I need to blog?

That was a lovely thing that but we will now go back to our regularly (or apparently not so) scheduled programming.

I was a bit inspired tonight. We were having a bit, of "precipitation" - i.e. 6inches of snow. But I went to a poetry reading with B., partly to do something different than my usual Tuesday options: a) spend $100 at The Tasting Room, or b) watch Shot of Love With Tila Tequila with my roommate. I wobbled home on too high heels (remember these?) and quickly took them off after an hour standing on the train and a five block walk home. Roommate announced she was whipping up a little squash soup and cheese and red pepper grilled sandwich. Delightful! I did the dishes and we set off to the most interesting place. There is a mile or so on Lincoln, north of Lawrence, that yields a multitude of strange and wonderful venues. MB you might remember our haphazard tasting of such notorious establishments such as the St. Pauli Bar (4am, naturally).

B knew of a poetry reading at a cafe such amply named, "The Cafe." You guys, we must all go. Not only does it feature black light throughout, but a wonderful display of fake flowers, numbered tables, and murals. Oh and the hand dryer is outside the bathrooms, adjacent to the bar in case anyone was wondering if your hands needed drying. The barman, who was usually the chef, searched high and low for some Irish whiskey but I settled for a jack n soda for good measure. Co-blogger A. would approve.

This being only my third or so poetry reading with B., I knew that it could be like anything. And it was everything and more than that. A bit of an old man's club (the elder, in his early 80s I'd guess, being my favorite, both for his poetry and for his humor) mixed with a private reading group. B. & I are taking notes for our project. The poetry readings were kept at 5 minutes or 3 poems, which was only deviated from a few times. I really enjoyed it. For all sorts of reasons. One guy just read from a flip calendar of Bush quotes.

But after the readings we went back to the bar (to smoke, as is our wont for the next 25 days or so), and roommate left, partly due to the smoking and partly due to writing project of her own, and we got to know our lovely bartender. He is Turkish, worked in Tel Aviv, traveled the world working on cruise ships. He had a lot to say, I only understood half of it, but he gave us a round on the house and therefore I love the cafe on Lincoln. The place is insane. Apparently on the weekends it becomes a Serb fest but I'm going to go back and ask for my man, in the kitchen. And the walk home was my own private quiet winter wonderland.

So another proof that I take a weekday (say, Tuesday) and do much more with it than I would in an entire weekend. Tomorrow I have new puppy fest at Sara's even though we only had new kitty fest a month ago. Thursday is birthday party at the 70s era office bar downtown. Friday I go to a rock show or I finally give in to the siren call of the couch.

More updates soon. Oh did I mention the bloggers reunion for New Year's Eve? We will be reunited in Maine. And E will meet the FYC. We will bond over love of bacon and beer and doogies. I think it will be good. (Aside to Susie: come up to Maine!)

luvvies

E.

All Seven We Will Watch Them Fall

OMG you guys!!! It is almost midnight!!!

Today I woke up at 5 am! And then I went to the airport and my driver told me that he had been thrown in jail by his ex-wife for some kind of something with their daughter! And then I realized I had lost my driver's license! So I took another cab home, this time with an East African with 5 children who wondered what was taking me so long to get started on the whole family thing! And so I got on the 10:35 flight even though they told me I could fly without an ID! And got to NYC and spent $10 on lunch! And my assistant told me he used to try to make cute girls eat bananas and take their sweaters off by saying how hot the room was even he wasn't really hot! And my FYC showed up 20 minutes early and got lost in midtown! And then we were reunited after a whole week apart and you can imagine who that went! And then we had really great dinner and waaaay too expensive drinks and watched the debates and now we are going to bed in this weird hotel filled with Europeans and Japanese airline attendants! For reals!! OMG!!!

How are YOU???

xo, A
who will be normal tomorrow we promise. Today is just mildly overstimulating.

Mmmmmmmmmm*

Full Slightly-Tipsy Baking episode for you tomorrow (or whenever the smell of the sure-to-be-delicious meal the FYC is making for me is consumed and stops making me dizzy with it's delicious scent of promise) but for now guess what?

I mean guess where?

No I guess I mean guess What! I am starting a new part-time job tomorrow. Anybody want any fancy jams, you come to me. For reals. Super exciting.

xo, A

p.s. Everyone please send good thoughts to my blogger-sister tomorrow! I am wishing she has a similar experience to mine: wisdom teeth extracted by day, dancing at tha' club by night. Do it!!

*Not that horrible song from before that you remember.

It's Just a Shot Away

How many false starts and painful exits and just plain wrongs* must we suffer through before, suddenly, you're in the video store with this person you really like and you pick out not one, but THREE movies in under 5 minutes, which has to be some sort of miraculous record-breaker, and then go to the grocery store for dinner fixings, and everything is just. So. Easy.

Other shoe, where are you?

xoxo, A

p.s. If you've ever read this blog before, you know it's probably a shit ton.

p.p.s. We say "shit ton" up here.

Our Tax Dollars At Work (pt. infinity)

Hallo reader friends! Check it out: you'd almost think this an Onion headline, but NO.

Drug-Impaired Driving by Youth Remains Serious Problem
Nearly a third of high school seniors say they have driven while "under the influence" or been in the car with an impaired driver.

From our friends at the NIH.

Eternal and serious problem, of course.  But, DUH? They need to make a rigorous scientific inquiry into this? Can't we just have Johnny Depp go back to high school and report from the field?

Come on!

-AD