Musings of a Chicago-Born New Yorker

Posts tagged “super random

Blogging While The World Burns/Drowns/Divides/Etc.

I’ve been wanting to try something new with this blog, but it’s easier said than done. I keep thinking about things I want to say, but then it feels like they’ve already been said. Or it feels trivial. Or it feels like how dare I have a moment of happiness when multiple people are killed by the police almost every damn day.

But I started this blog as a bit of an online journal situation. I have so many thoughts about stuff that happens. And life is still fun at some points, so I want to share that too. For instance, my trials and tribulations trying to get someone to go apple picking this weekend. That could be fun to read about maybe…?

Things are just feeling very transitional right now for me. Not the weather though. The weather is stuck on warm. I woke up this morning feeling itchy because of a fucking mosquito bite. At the end of September. Because I sleep with the windows open. Because it’s still so hot outside. Because global warming.

That got dark quick.

But my point still stands. A few weeks ago when it was in the 50s, I was so cold when I got out of the shower, and I was missing the summer that I was sure was gone. But now, it’s so damn steamy. I don’t appreciate the heat anymore because it’s the end of September! I will miss it when it’s gone though because I love summer time. But I don’t love it like I usually do around June. Fall clothing is my favorite and the window is possible closing.

It could stay warm for so long that fall weather lasts for two days then it’s winter. Or the global warming could continue and fall weather will last from mid-October to January. Who knows?

Can we all just agree that hurricane season can’t end soon enough though?

I think I’m successfully talking myself into remembering why I found blogging fun. And how maybe I can avoid some of the tone deafness. I won’t be all like, “hey, look at this pie I made and only look at this and let’s all pretend Roger Goodell doesn’t have the moral high ground over Trump for some crazy fucking reason!” It’ll definitely be more like, “hey, had another great night at a jazz club where we drunkenly discussed the best way to undermine white patriarchy.”

Eh, I really just woke up in a writing mood, so this may not last. I wrote a whole bit that was inspired when I read that Hugh Heffner died. It’s far too soon for me to say what I want to say, so I’ll post it in a month or so. The casual misogyny will keep. For the record, totally not accusing Hugh of that by any means. I’ve always viewed him as one of the most women-loving capitalists of our time.

In the mean time, I’m going to get back to planning my boss’s going away hang and finding someone to go apple picking with me.


My Nickname Should Be Breadcrumbs

Have you ever thought about giving yourself a nickname? If you could choose one, would it focus on your best qualities? Would it be funny? Clever? Revealing?

Yeah… the name I came up with for myself is none of those really. It’s blunt, if whimsical. Remember Hansel and Gretel? They tried to find their way home using a trail of breadcrumbs. Usually a trail of breadcrumbs can be followed.

My breadcrumbs are a little different. They are scattered all over, in no particular order. They simply leave a path of where I’ve been. You could literally track my physical location through history if you had some sort of way of tracking my possessions.

I’m not joking when I say I leave all my shit everywhere all the time.

It’s a bad habit I cannot break, no matter how hard I try. I’ve done a better job at keeping up with possessions over the years. For instance, no house keys have been lost in years and years. Misplaced, of course, but always eventually found.

Essential home items aside, lots of other things are left as an accidental reminder of my presence. I try not to think about to monetary value of things I’ve left that can’t be retrieved. Instead I focus on the things I’ve mislaid that can be retrieved, even if it takes a while.

Since I’m on the subject, here are five examples of things I’ve left behind.

  1. This past Thanksgiving, I spent the night at a my friend Sara’s house after eating soooo much pie. I worked Thanksgiving and the day after. It was not until I got back to work that I noticed I had left my watch (aka the Samsung Gear Fit 2) and three rings. I’d placed them on her bathroom floor when I showered in the morning so as to not lose them down a drain or mix them up with her stuff on her dresser. And of course, I walked right out the apartment without them. I had to head back there Friday night after work to pick them up.
  2. A couple of years after college, I was back visiting with my friend David. We were there for a huge part his fraternity used to throw every year, and it was a nice reunion. I had a ton of toiletries with me (as I usually do when I travel). After I got back from the weekend, I realized I’d left brand new bottle of an entire line of hair care and face care products. Seeing as how I only visited Tallahassee once a year, I knew there was no way to get them back. That was a particularly expensive fuckup.
  3. This is not a specific time, but a specific item: eye glasses. I swear I leave them anywhere not at home where I remove them. I wish I could say I was one of those people who look for glasses sitting atop their head. Nope, mine are found such interesting places as on top of the toilet tank in a jazz club bathroom, in a seat I’ve just left on the subway, in between the couch cushions at the house of a friend of a friend, and inside someone else’s jacket pocket.
  4. Another item: earrings. I lose and leave them everywhere. Most incriminatingly (is that word?), at every home I’ve visited of every guy I never should’ve dated. I also leave one earring behind at work, in the collar of shirts and jackets, hooked into sweaters of people who hug me, and some black hole where I assume they adorn the lost socks of the world. I have a medium sized box in my bedroom that holds all the single earrings I still own. I threw one out once last year. Before my parents moved, the other earring went missing one fateful afternoon in which I’d spent time in every fucking room in the house, which never happens in one afternoon. After my parents moved, I gave the earring up for lost, so I tossed the other one in the pair. Wouldn’t you know that I found the earring in a corner of a drawer in the bedroom set they’d moved from my old bedroom. The lost earring survived the move, and I threw out its match for no reason! Needless to say, the other earrings may stay in that box for eternity, in case their match resurfaces.
  5. This last one is a doozy. I got a free tablet with an old phone, I’m thinking it was my Note 5. I happily used this tablet to play all the games I used to play on my cell, but stopped when I realized how much battery they drained. One visit to Chicago, I got off the plane in Chicago, only to realize I’d left my tablet on the plane. Instead of having my parents drive back to the airport, I asked my husband, who felw in the next day, to check with lost and found to see about the table. Turns out Delta Airlines has a bullshit lost and found system. I filled out the appropriate online forms, got some terrible customer service and runaround, then accepted my tablet was lost forever. When I got my new Note 7 (I miss my beloved phone), I got a new tablet with it. I was able to play my games, so I had less overall ire towards Delta even though I just knew one of their staff members was living it up with my old tablet. Then my mother asked if either Chris or I had lost an iPad. Chris’s iPad was on our kitchen counter, where it always it. Luckily, I was headed back to Chicago for  a visit. When I got there, I saw the tablet. And, you guessed it, it was my old Samsung tablet. Not an iPad, not stolen by some wayward Delta employee. I felt so foolish. That whole situation was peak breadcrumbs.

Looking for a common thread in these scenarios, and the only one I can see is that I’m usually in a state of fight or flight when something is left behind. Not necessarily immediate fight or flight, but definitely that’s my overall feeling. Leaving the house of a guy I never intend to see again would help explain why I wouldn’t be in the right mind to itemize my belongings.

Although… if I really wanted to go and have no reason for return, you’d think I’d do a better job of collecting my stuff, right? It’s happened to me more than once that I dealt with guys assuming I wanted them to chase me with the old left-the-earring-routine. How I have pined for the lost costume jewelry as I ignored smug text messages offering to return my item. So many ransom notices, lol. Excuse my hyperbole, but you know by now I’m contractually obligated to speak in hyperbole every so often.

There is, of course, a silver lining. Because of my tendency to leave bits of myself behind everywhere I go, I have learned what I truly value and what I don’t. I lost a new cardigan I deeply loved at a restaurant, and as a result, I only take pashminas out with me in the summer to do the battle against unreasonable air conditioning. And some of my jewelry, particularly the gifts from my parents and husband, are really important to me. I don’t want to lose them, so I only wear them when I’m in a good mood and travelling to trusted establishments.

Other than my rings I left at Sara’s, pretty much the only jewelry I wear these days is the costume jewelry. Trump and all the heavy bigoted bullshit that comes with his election has me in a semi-permanent state of fight or flight, so yeah… leaving the diamonds and pearls at home for now. Lab created gemstones only!


Live Blogging My Way Through Election Day

00:09 EST

I have to work in the morning, I’m done for the night.

23:59 EST

Over at Trump headquarters in NYC, they are ecstatic. All I can think is there there is one black guy and one Hispanic guy in the room. Everyone else is white.

23:57 EST

Clinton headquarters in NYC is a grim place. Their faces look like how I feel. Stunned disbelief.

23:49 EST

That bottle of champagne is gonna be in my fridge for a long time. If she loses, I won’t have much to celebrate. 2016 really is the worst fucking year.

23:38 EST

She can’t lose another vote she was expected to win. Wisconsin, Michigan, New Hampshire, come on y’all.

23:31 EST

Evangelicals man… They don’t think a woman should be in charge. And misogyny, xenophobia, and racism won’t make them not vote for you… Good to know.

23:21 EST

Just took a nap helped by the food. This shit is not looking good. People are saying the polls having been properly polling the Rust Belt and that’s why they got it wrong.

It looks like Clinton is going to lose. This is so depressing.

21:55 EST

Clinton just pulled ahead in Virginia.

Whew!

Current heart rate according to my Gear Fit 2 is 87 bpm.

21:50 EST

Michigan, Ohio, North Carolina, Florida. these four states are KILLING me right now. she’s supposed to win three of the four.

The polling this cycle apparently sucked.

21:47 EST

I’m feeling a certain amount of despair. These vote counts remind me of 2008, when Obama was leading in many vote counts. His opponent never made up the numbers. Now I’ve got my fingers crossed hoping a miracle can be pulled off for Clinton.

Nate Silver, my statistics boo, still shows Clinton winning. I really hope he’s right.

I know people who chose not to vote today. They think no matter the outcome, they won’t do well. They weren’t thinking of the people of different groups who will NOT do well with a Trump presidency.

I can’t even right now.

21:32 EST

There are a lot of votes. CNN says are too early to call. But Trump has the lead in most of these states. This is so nerve-wracking. My two home states, New York and Illinois, did their part. The rest of the country is fucking up.

21:05 EST

Trump ahead in Florida and Ohio and North Carolina. I can’t.

20:45 EST

It didn’t even occur to me to watch these results somewhere other than my own home. Why would I? This is where all the good booze is. Plus, I don’t need pants here.

On CNN, they’re showing New Yorkers watching on a rooftoop. It looks like they’re at 230 Fifth. I don’t love that rooftop, but that gathering looks fun.

Nah, I’m happy to be on my couch, agonizing over Florida in the comfort of my own home.

20:43 EST

Clinton isn’t supposed to win Ohio. She is supposed to win Florida. Those vote totals so far are upside down right now. This is upsetting.

20:30 EST

South Carolina & Alabama to Trump. No surprises there. Tons of states are too close to call. It’s still early, I’m trying to remain calm.

20:28 EST

My husband is so drunk. He’s thinking he’s attracted to Dana Bash now, lol. I get it, she looks great tonight.

Ugh, Trump is still up in Florida. This is no bueno.

He’s also currently winning in the popular vote. Clinton is winning in the electoral college vote so far. I wish they wouldn’t mention states until all the votes are in–no I don’t. I’d be so impatient if they weren’t giving me regular updates.

20:14 EST

Now Trump is up by 700 votes in Florida. Ugh. This shit is too close.

20:11 EST

Most people think they can’t drink alcohol in any order. They would be wrong. You can’t drink excessively in any order. My husband doesn’t have the strongest stomach. But tonight, he started with beer, then he drank rum (and coke), now he’s drinking wine.

You too can drink in whatever order you’d like. As long as you have a chemist on your side guiding your way, lol.

Ugh, these results are coming in now Early voting in Florida is not making me happy. We’ll see what happen though because right now Clinton is in the lead. 86% is in. And Clinton is only ahead by 11,000 votes ahead.

This is some nailbiting shit…

20:07 EST

Clinton on track to win Florida… Lord please…

19:55 EST

Trump wins West Virginia, duh.

I’ve finished the Sancerre and the beer. On to Beaujolais. That is a wonderful wine I know about because of Wine School in the New York Times last year.

19:43 EST

Ohio’s Secretary of State says that they will start reporting results soon. Republicans don’t win the country without Ohio.

Conversely, they have won Ohio without winning the presidency.

I guess we’ll see which way this will go.

19:37 EST

Nate Silver (my statistics boo) thinks that Trump will easily win Vigo County, Indiana. He thinks their bellweather status is no more because of love for Trump.

I take back what I said about understanding angry white people.

19:33 EST

Florida keeps going back and forth between Trump and Clinton.

This is nerve-wracking.

My husband can’t believe this is even a competition.

I know never to underestimate angry white people.

At least dinner was good. Chris ate so fast, he got the hiccups, lol.

I’m really really hoping Clinton wins Florida.

19:14 EST

Trump is ahead currently in Florida. This doesn’t make me happy. But at least she’s ahead in Florida, but the votes are so tiny in number right now. Taking a break to eat.

food

19:06 EST

Goodness. Bellweather county in Indiana is pissing me off. I hope Vigo County is wrong this year. Right now, it’s leaning Trump.

It’s time to eat, so at least there’s that.

19:00 EST

CNN projects Donald Trump will win Kentucky and Indiana. No surprises there. Hillary Clinton will win Vermont. No surprise there.

Virginia, Georgia, North Carolina too early to call.

My husband and I toasted and took a drink our of our glasses about Vermont.

Chris: “I’m drunk!”

Me: “Join the club!”

18:57 EST

Eric Trump violated New York election law by posting a picture of his ballot, lol.

I get it though. I took photos of my ballot when I got to vote for both my mother and Obama in the same election. It was an amazing moment for me. Of course, I knew better than to post it online.

Dummy.

18:48 EST

I’m watching Ana Navarro on CNN. This woman gives me life. This Nicaraguan-born American woman makes me so happy!

18:41 EST

Classic CNN. They’re watching the counts in Indiana. We know Indiana is going for Trump. Do we really care about the last 70,000 votes coming in from there? No we don’t.

My husband and I are going to Paris and London for New Year’s. We’re pretty damn sure that if Trump wins, we’re not coming back. When we first moved to NYC, we said we were gonna be here for three years then move to Europe.

I’ve been looking at job opportunities in London in my same industry. And I’ve been looking at the visa process in the U.K. It’s very possible for us to go over there and not come back.

We each feel better knowing we have an escape route, just in case…

18:31 EST

Every time I turn to MSNBC, they piss me off. I was just trying to check on Rachel Maddow’s eyelashes, but nope. They had an awful commercial on that made me turn back to CNN before I could see her. Fiat is at peak appropriation right now, ugh.

My husband is now drinking a very strong rum & coke I’ve made him. I’m finishing the beer, half of which I’ve poured into the italian sausages.

The first part of the food is almost done: squash, yellow rice, italian sausages. Gonna be so good!

18:24 EST

I’ve been trying to do more situps as a part of my regular workout. I prolly should’ve done those earlier today… before I started drinking. Oh well, I’ll do them tomorrow before I go to work.

18:21 EST

CNN is cracking me up with these “KEY RACE ALERTS”

I’m just glad none of the alerts are surprises thus far.

18:14 EST

My chicken still isn’t completely defrosted, so I’ve got it running under cold water now. But the rice is cooking and so are the italian sausages. So at least we’ll get dinner. The chicken may end up being our lunch for tomorrow. Gonna cook the squash and broccolini soon. I’m about to open a beer for the sausages.

And drink the rest!

This food smells so amazing!

18:08 EST

I can already tell I’m gonna be so annoyed when she wins. People keep referencing how only 100  years aho women didn’ t have the right to vote. I’m just like, “white women!!!”

Yelling at my TV is not useful.

But CNN is happily distracting me. Results from Kentucky are rolling in. Donald Trump currently holds 87% of the vote with 1% of the vote in. No surprises here. Poor white people have a long history of voting for people who don’t do anything for them. Those coal workers who can’t even afford the Trump ties made in China think Trump will get their jobs back.

At least I’m getting the results I expected. As long as I see Nate Silver’s (my statistics boo) map fill in as expected, I’ll be happy.

18:00 EST

I’ve never been an angry drunk, but I’m finding myself yelling at the TV. Every time they say something I disagree with…

But I’m still my normal happy drunk self. I’m giving my husband lots of kisses and hugs. I’m sure he’s amused by my current behavior.

17:48 EST

Drunk confession? I’ve been fussing in my head that half the damn screen is being taken up by CNN having all this info scrolling at the bottom. And I’ve also been fussing that they haven’t been releasing the exit poll results yet.

#drunkfail

The info scrolling at the bottom IS the exit polling results!

Duh…

That’s my bad. So, I’m gleaning no useful information from those results. Things like, 68% of American are ashamed to be American doesn’t capture a proper picture. I’m sure that large number encompasses those who are ashamed that xenophobia, racism, and misogyny is such a driving force for Republicans and large amounts of it aren’t enough to make someone lose the vote of the base. But I’m also sure that a large number encompasses those who feel America has gone too far away from it’s values and we’re doing too much to embrace immigrants and the gays and the Muslims.

For the record, I’m all about embracing all the newness every wave of immigrant brings. In my job, every shift, I struggle to understand the nurses and doctors who call us to report potential donors. I hate that I don’t have a good ear for accents. I know life would be so much easier at work (and when I call customer service for almost any company) if every had an American accent. But so the fuck what? I prefer this melting pot. I love that I live in a city where I can get authentic cuisine from almost any culture made by people who are from there, wherever there is.

I don’t want the world Donald Trump wants us to go back to. i want to move forward. Even if that means I’ll never clearly understand another doctor or nurse ever again. The American dream doesn’t mean shit for me. The least I can do is welcome the people who it actually exists for.

17:41 EST

My husband is home! He’s amused that I’m tipsy. But I’ve given him a Brooklyn lager, so he can start catching up. He didn’t bring me butternut squash. He brought zucchini and yellow squash. I would’ve preferred the flavor of butternut squash tonight (with brown butter sauce, drool), but at least he brought me the easier squash to prepare. #drunkbenefits #blessed lol, definitely crossing the line from tipsy to drunk

17:25 EST

I finally heard a Trump support talk about real things, like actual reality for Trump. He pointed to a number of counties in Florida where the voting is up, counties that traditionally go for Republicans. He spoke (of course with no details) of plans that Trump has to fix a lot of problems for blue collar workers.

They should’ve had this guy out a lot more speaking for Trump. I mean, his words are falling on deaf ears for me, but there are bound to be people he could’ve resonated with. Maybe some middle America white folks with half of a college degree, a high level of pragmatism, no black friends, and a ton of family members that are factory workers or police officers. Surely those people would love his message.

Of course, those folks are probably already voting for Trump. Plus this guy isn’t very attractive. I dig his facial hair (and eyes, and voice and style), but he isn’t classically handsome, and we all know Trump hates to send out people who aren’t 10s to talk for him.

17:15 EST

I’m definitely tipsy. I keep trying to fast forward through commercials because DVR is how I watch most TV. At least my nails are almost dry. I’ve only messed up one of them. This is the benefit of dark nails, you can’t really see the blemishes.

Unless I’ve missed it, we still don’t have any exit polls results. Still 45 min away from the first polls closing. Soon after that, we’ll start to get results. My anxiety is building, but it’s starting to feel like an anxious excitement.

Watching CNN is helping, believe it or not. To see all of Trump’s supporters choosing to suspend reality as their candidate’s only path to victory is reassuring. I’m not saying it’s impossible for Trump to win. I’m just saying that his own supporters don’t seem to think the reality we all currently share makes it likely.

17:02 EST

Waiting for the results of the first exit polls to be released. First polls on the East Coast close in an hour. Starting to get nervous. My heart rate is up according to my Gear Fit 2.

Hillary Clinton’s camp is reporting that she is working on two versions of her final speech tonight. I’m hoping the victory speech is the one we’ll hear.

I’m still on my first, admittedly large, glass of wine. I’m gonna check to see if the chicken and italian sausage are defrosted.

heart-rate

16:48 EST

CNN is giddy because Clinton’s motorcade is leaving Chappaqua, NY to head for the city to setup camp to hear tonight’s results.

Also, women are gather by Susan B. Anthony’s grave to put their I Voted stickers there. They’re hoping tonight is the culmination of her fight. A white woman will hopefully be president. Don’t mistake my focus on color for a lack of support for Hillary Clinton. I want her to win. I’m just not foolish enough about history to forget that the fight for women to vote didn’t include women that looked like me. My anniversary of voting right’s ain’t the same as Clinton’s.

16:44 EST

Nails are drying currently. and I’m a bit tipsy, lol. Sounds like a good time to start cooking, right? Luckily I cook while drunk often. But I gotta wait until my husband gets here with the veggies for tonight’s dinner.

Meanwhile on CNN, the anchor is mocking Trump for not knowing the difference between country and county. Peak Trump… it’s in his best interest to get facts wrong.

The dark blue nails are so fall, don’t you think?

blue-bails

16:06 EST

They’re talking about how both candidates are having their parties tonight in Midtown Manhattan, which has never happened before. As a New Yorker, I think it’s kinda cool too. I’m just even happier that I’m safe in Brooklyn today.

I feel badly for my co-workers who have to work today though. My office is on 34th & 10th, which is so close to the Javits Center which is on 34th & 11th. Security and traffic over there is gonna be crazy.

Painting my nails now, so I gotta take a break from the keyboard so I don’t fuck up my right hand.

16:00 EST

CNN pissed me off for a second white white people and their dogs. But now we’re back on track. Interviews with people at the polls, and opinionated responses from the panel.

And more ridiculousness and separation from reality from that black guy who’s there for Donald Trump.

Let’s be honest here, there’s a chance Trump can win today, but it’s not happening by secret black and brown voters. His only chance is uneducated white men showing up in large numbers.

And more wine for me.

15:52 EST

Geez, now they’re interviewing Russians on their opinion of the possible outcomes of this election?!?! I know they have a lot of hours to fill today, but geez. Who cares?! I guess we’re back to CNN to see if they’ve finished talking to that Trump woman.

15:40 EST 

As soon as I turned to MSNBC, those fuckers had that video of Jimmy Fallon mussing up Trump’s hair on his show a few months ago. Ugh, this guy. I loved Jimmy Fallon before he decided sticking his head in the sand about politics this year. I get it, it’s not your jam, but it is my jam, so you can go off my TV screen.

Ole making-Trump-look-amusing, focused-on-the-wrong-damn-thing, why-is-he-even-on-your-show-in-that-case, would-rather-be-silly-than-focused self. Ugh, I need wine.

As I’m watching MSNBC, I’m not familiar with these anchors, I’m used to watching later in the evening with Rachel Maddow and them. And now I’m hoping Maddow has a better stylist this year. She always looks great, but she had Snuffleupagus eyelashes going four years ago. Don’t do that to her again tonight guys!

There is good news from my fridge though. I found the rest of my bottle of Sancerre, I thought that was finished when out mothers visited last week. But it wasn’t!

wine-1

15:36 EST

I just checked Twitter and 538.com says their prediction model is locked. No more new information in there. The prediction I have screenshotted below is what the polling model Nate Silver (my statistics boo) setup says about who will win tonight.

At 7pm Eastern, the map will change to begin to reflect the polling results as they come in. I wonder what effect results from earlier states have on the voting of later states, if any. With so much early voting these days, I’d be surprised if it has a huge effect.

Okay… Lara Trump just showed up to CNN to be interviewed. I honestly could care less about her opinions of what life has been like for Trump in these final days. Heading over to MSNBC.

15:23 EST

Of COURSE Trump is trying to say the votes are rigged. And his team have already filed in Nevada about the polling place staying open, which they are required to do by law. Anyone already in line when the polling place closes still get a chance to vote. Gladly, the judge threw out his claim.

But seriously?? Saying that ballots that were filled out for the Republican candidates switching over to Democrats? Um…. that’s a big no. As usual, no actual evidence, no actual specific polling sites mentioned, no actual people this has happened to.

I pity the people who believe him without question. If he were winning, he’d swear the electoral process was perfect.

15:13 EST

My husband just messaged me that he’s jealous because I’m drinking and he’s not. I have no sympathy, lol. I made sure I had today off from work, he didn’t do the same. He had a rehearsal today for a new band he’s gonna be playing with every other Thursday.

While I was chuckling and thinking of which drink my husband will go for first when he returns home, Paris Dennard started speaking on CNN about Trump’s chances for winning Michigan. He’s saying the same bullshit that Ben Carson was.

Why does every Trump supporter say, “let’s throw out the polls”? It’s because they all need to suspend reality to give their candidate a chance to vote.

And why the hell do all the black men supporting Trump sound like Stepford wives who’ve taken 3 Xanax in less than 3 hours?

15:01 EST

CNN is going over whether or not polling places have had glitches. A few have, and they are requesting the ability to stay open later as a result. Mostly at places with electronic voting. When I voted this morning, I used a paper ballot with a pen filling in bubbles, and then it was fed into and counted by a machine. There seemed to be no glitches, so that was nice for my polling place. We’ll see what happens in other polling places.

I’m thinking of painting my nails. It used to be my Monday night therapy while watching Dancing with the Stars before I started doing so much yoga. But I think I could use it today. I’m going for a nice sparkly turquoise shade of blue.

I think before I do that, I’ll pop over to fivethirtyeight.com and see what they think about who will win today. Nate Silver, my statistics boo, was 100% right in 2012. Will he have a repeat performance this year?

538-prediction

14:41 EST

There is a reporter interviewing two people outside of an election place in Orange Country in Florida. A lot of people see that is a decisive county that may decide if Clinton or Trump win that state.

The New York Times says that Trump can’t win without winning Florida. Fingers cross that there is some truth to that.

Back to these two voters. This woman said that she was voting for Trump because she wanted change and no more Clintons. I can understand that sentiment. But I would like it a lot more if those words didn’t come out of the mouths of people who can’t articulate what change they’d like to see.

The reporter asked the woman how she felt about the first woman voter, and she was basically like, “meh.” When asked about friends of hers who might be excited about the first woman president, she said, “yeah, I have women friends.” What does that even mean? I’m guessing it means this woman has zero male feminist friends. Surprise, surprise.

14:35 EST

Watching Ben Carson talk about how black people are called Uncle Tom if they are publicly supporting Donald Trump. Then, he follows it up with repeating all the Republican tropes of black people. Babies out of wedlock?!?! Really?!?!

I’m just glad I was able to stay awake in spite of his zzzquil voice.

14:25 EST

Love that damn near every episode of The Flash ends so emotionally. All the feels. Glad to have this moment of happy heartedness before heading into the trenches of election coverage.

And my tea is done!

tea

13:44 EST

Now I’m getting antsy and I’m wondering what the pundits are saying about early election returns. This is a great episode of The Flash.

I love seeing Draco Malfoy all grown up but still wonderfully British-ly snotty. But… I’m itching to see what’s going on over at CNN.

I’ll probably make myself a hot toddy then head over on to CNN after this episode finishes.

13:38 EST

Why is the scary guy on this show black? Ugh, at least he’s a smart science guy.

13:34 EST

I could scream that they’re let another Wells into their mix on The Flash. These multiple Harrisons are NEVER up to any good. They always turn out okay, or develop enough of a bond with the other characters to not want to kill them completely or whatever. But damn, not on any Earth does Harrison Wells have pure intentions.

And they all keep voice diaries, lol. This may make me start drinking sooner than CNN will.

drink-options

13:06 EST 

Hi everyone! I’m sitting on my couch, having just watched Lin-Manuel Miranda’s monologue on SNL for the thirtieth time–escapism! I told myself that after I voted and stocked up on wine, I’d start watching CNN for election coverage.

after-voting

But… I just cant do it yet. I’m catching up on the DVR, watching The Flash right now. I haven’t started drinking yet, and all I know about the election is who’s been posting on IG that they voted. Oh, and Clinton won Dixville, New Hampshire shortly after midnight.

Let’s see where the day takes me.


Empathy versus Me Me Me

Why is it so hard to empathize with people who are different? I’m sitting here listening to some of my co-workers fussing about early voting.

I’m so confused. If you’re not going to early vote, and if you’re lucky enough to have a job where you can take the time out of your work day to go vote, why the hell do you care what provisions are in place for other voters?

Just to be clear, these people aren’t worried about voter fraud or anything like that (we all know that’s a Trump supporter problem anyway), they’re just irritated that they have to hear about the statistics of demographics of early voting.

This got me thinking about empathy, or lack thereof. How easy is it to see things from the perspective of someone else? To put yourself in their shoes and show compassion for their situation? Does having that ability make you any more likely to accept policies at home, work, or elsewhere that don’t directly benefit you?

Maybe it’s human to get that sense of injustice or to feel like something isn’t fair when things don’t directly benefit you. Or maybe it’s just a chance to stare your own privilege in the face and realize everything doesn’t have to benefit you to be important to the world around you.

But one can dream. If the world revolved around me:

  1. My co-workers wouldn’t all take lunch at the same fucking time and leave me on the phone by myself.
  2. My bosses would fix the schedule so I never worked on a short-staffed shift.
  3. Maids in NYC would suddenly start giving out “You Don’t Have Time To Clean, You Poor Thing” discount coupons.
  4. My yoga studio would consult my work and volunteer and travel schedules before scheduling vinyasa and aerial yoga classes.
  5. No one would call my husband for gigs between February 5th and February 15th.
  6. Subway platform elevators would never again smell like pee or vomit or shit or armpit or ass crack or perfume.
  7. People without children would get to vote on which section all the people with children sat in on the plane.
  8. The vending machine at work would never run out of cheesy poofs.
  9. Everything Colin Kaepernick says about the state of blacks in this country would immediately be turned into a bumper sticker and refrigerator magnet.
  10. You could subscribe to Colin Kaepernick’s refrigerator magnets, and all proceeds would go to make the Know Your Rights Camp national.
  11. My mom and dad would move to New York.

The world doesn’t revolve around me. I get it. It’s why I have to go to yoga smack in the middle of the afternoon on my days off, when I least feel like putting on pants.

That being said, I empathize with my aerial teacher, who is able to schedule her yoga classes around her other job(s) and auditions and whatnot.

And also, I love statistics. Who gets irritated about statistics? Nate Silver, my statistics boo, could make anyone love statistics. Well… I know that’s not true, but I wish it were true.


And Now I Have Four Sets of Headphones

Maaaaaaan, of course my same day delivery didn’t come on the same day. They didn’t even attempt the delivery. I wasn’t at work for the next couple of days, so it got delivered at some point.

I had originally ordered replacement headphones for my cell phone because the volume buttons on the headphones weren’t working. Then I noticed they were selling them in a two pack and figured that would be a better purchase because it was close to the same price. I don’t really lose headphones, but it couldn’t hurt to have a second pair, right?

Well, I ordered the headphones, then realized I’d chosen free two-day delivery when I meant to choose same day delivery. So I ordered them again for same day delivery.

And now I have four sets of headphones.

And the volume buttons still don’t work.

I figured out it was due to the phone being messed up. One lousy little half-empty travel-size bottle of Listerine and everything goes fuzzy.

Well, not literally. The phone’s functionality has almost completely returned. That makes me very happy because I love my phone and I’ve finally got the settings just right. Fingers crossed that this phone will last until the newest Samsung Note 6 (or Note 7 Edge if the internet rumors are to be trusted) comes out.

So maybe I have to restart my phone to get the microphone on the headphones to work.

And maybe the S Pen is a little temperamental.

And maybe the phone mutes itself for no reason out of nowhere.

And maybe the phone turns itself up to the loudest possible volume for no reason out of nowhere.

But it’s my phone and I love it. And it’s really not in the budget to replace it right now.

That money has to go towards the laptop. Eventually it will stop working because I spilled a glass of red wine on the keyboard.

And Chris was just saying how I’m less clumsy with all the aerial yoga…


Same Day Delivery Anxiety

I don’t know why I did it y’all. I looked on the Amazon forums to check the reliability of the company Amazon uses for same day delivery. Why did I do that?

Up until today, I never used the Amazon Prime same day delivery. I do a lot of online shopping. A LOT.

The strong need for headphones that work coupled with an inability to take a real break at work while the stores are still open on a Sunday will make you do strange things.

Because my job is in an office building, I had my doubts as to whether this was a good idea, but decided to take the risk. The purchase on the Amazon website is always painless. This time was no different.

Item purchased, tracking number generated, then… nothing.

I was confused as to why there weren’t quicker updates, I guess I’m UPS spoiled.

I found the LaserShip company’s website and started tracking the package there. Then, for some reason I cannot explain, I googled LaserShip tracking for Amazon packages.

Welp… Google sent me to a page on the Amazon Carrier Feedback forum. It was not pretty. Since May 25, 2010, there have been 5604 posts from 2636 individual participants, with the most recent post being 2 days ago.

I read back several pages from the most recent, and only 2 statements were mildly positive.

Basically:

  1. When LaserShip invariably fucks up, ask Amazon for a free month of Prime rather than a price reduction on your purchased item
  2. Deal with Amazon first rather than LaserShip
  3. LaserShip sucks
  4. LaserShip really sucks
  5. If you ever want to see your package… TOO BAD

Yeah, if I were a person with uncontrollable anxiety or outward physiological responses to my emotions, I’d be covered in hives and hyperventilating right now.

It’s not even that big of a deal, it’s just some dumb headphones.

But I hate when things don’t work the way they’re supposed to. Amazon is quite often touting their One Day Delivery in the NYC area. I felt like this was a low stakes way to take advantage of a new service. I think I was wrong.

Capture

Fingers crossed that this goes well, and I don’t end up sending a tip to the News12 Consumer Investigations line tonight.

 


Stop Asking Me if I’m A Mother

Happy Mother’s Day to the mothers! And people who are acting mothers! And people who have a deep attachment to their pets!

In spite of the title of this post, I don’t mind when people ask if I’m a mother. It’s the follow up questions after that that usually piss me off.

“Are you a mother?”

“No.”

“Well, why not? Don’t you want kids? How old are you? Shouldn’t you be a mother by now?”

It takes all of my self-control not to snap when this happens. Full disclosure, I have snapped on a few people, but mostly I keep my angry responses to myself.

But to the point of I want to snap:

  1. Why the fuck is it your business why I don’t have children?
  2. I could have fertility issues and the assumptions could be breaking my heart.
  3. If we were close enough, you’d already know the answer to that question, and Mother’s Day is not the appropriate time to ask.
  4. I don’t want kids, why is that up for judgement?

When I calmly (or not-so-calmly) explain why I have no desire to be a mother, I get looks of either confusion, judgement, or pity.

The confusion confuses me. Do some people really know no women except me who are willing to stand up say, “at this point in my life, I have no desire to be a mother.”?

The judgement pisses me off because I am horrified to think of that person doing the same thing to a woman who’s only child was murdered. Or who has had multiple miscarriages. Or who is infertile. Or who also just doesn’t want kids but is emotionally affected by the judgement of strangers.

And the pity saddens me. There is so much is this world to feel badly about: climate change, poverty, childhood obesity, refugee safety, people constantly doing harm to the world in their god’s name. Being sad for me just seems like a waste of time and energy.

Knowing me, I will likely wake up one day and decide I must have children. As it stands right now, if I had a 2 bedroom apartment, I’d be filling out an application to be a foster mom. But raising a child from start to finish it outside of what I want right now.

I’ll just be happy with my own mom. And my grandmother. And my mother-in-law. And my godmother. And all the other women in my life who are like second mothers to me.

So feel free to ask me if I’m a mother, just keep the follow up questions to yourself. Thanks!


Grey’s Anatomy Character Ages

I don’t know why my previous post on this topic, from years ago, is so popular, but I decided to bring that information over into a new post so all the updates and edits read a bit clearer. If you want to struggle through the old post feel free.

I am estimating that in this 12th season, the show has covered just under 9 years of real time. This includes a five year surgical residency for the main core cast (of whom only Meredith and Alex are left), then various career paths that add up to just under 4 years of time. Wikia disagrees with me and thinks it’s been just under 5. You can see my detailed explanation of how Meredith spent her time to see exactly how I’m adding it up.

I wrote the original post in December 2011, during Season 8, right after Derek & Meredith officially adopt Zola. At that time, I estimated Meredith to be around 36 years old.

For this update, I’ll also focus on Meredith Grey. I’m going to say more than I will for the other characters, so you get an idea of how I’m tracking the passing time: Her residency class finished residency and became fellows or attendings in the start of Season 9, where Grey is already 3 weeks pregnant with Derek Bailey Shepherd. She has that baby at the end of Season 9. It seems that she carries her baby to almost-if-not-definitely full term, so Season 10 begins 9 months-ish after Season 9.

We’re to a full year later during season 10 when Matt & April almost get married in the Season 10 mid-winter finale. Derek and Meredith struggle through the rest of Season 10, with her realizing she doesn’t need him, but she wants him. Not too long after that is when Derek comes home for a few weeks/months early in Season 11, then dies a few episodes before the Season 11 finale. In those last few episodes of Season 11, Meredith is gone for the length of a full term pregnancy, let’s just say 9 months because it obviously take a while to find out she’s pregnant, returning to her mother’s house in the season finale.

Season 12 starts approximately 3 months after that.  We lost a few months here and there in single jumps due to Penny showing up, Meredith getting attacked in the ER, suddenly April is 12 weeks pregnant, etc. Total time since Dec 2011:  just shy of 4 years (really like 3 years and ten months), so I estimate Meredith Grey to be 40-ish.

Please see below for the character list, mostly transferred over from my previous blog post about this topic.

CURRENT CAST MEMBERS

Ellen Pompeo: plays Meredith Gray; actual age is [46]; character’s age is around 40-ish (completed college at 25, did nothing for 3 or so years, 4 years med school, 5 years surgical residency, just under 2 years attending, just under 1 year “sabbatical”, currently in her 1st year as general surgery chief)

Justin Chambers: plays Alex Karev; actual age is [45]; character’s age is around 35 (completed college at 22, 4 years med school, 5 years surgical residency, 2 years fellowship, few months with Dr. Butthole, currently in his 2nd year as a pediatric surgical attending)

Chandra Wilson: plays Miranda Bailey; actual age is [46]; character’s age is around 41 (completed college at age 24, 4 years med school, 5 years surgical residency, 6 years as attending, currently in her 2nd year as chief of surgery)

James Pickens, Jr.: plays Richard Webber; actual age is [61]; character’s age is around 62 (completed college at age 22, 4 years med school, {1 year residency pre-sleeping with Ellis Grey} + Meredith Grey’s age – 5)

Sara Ramirez: plays Callie Torres; actual age is [40]; character’s age is around 41 (completed college at age 22, 4 years med school, 2 years peace corps, 5 year surgical residency, 6 years as attending, currently in her 2nd year as chief of orthopedic surgery)

Kevin McKidd: plays Owen Hunt; actual age is [42] ; character’s age is around 46 (completed college at age 23, 4 years med school, 5 year surgical residency, joined the Army after 9/11/01, discharged in 2008, 4 years as attending, 1-ish year chief of surgery, currently in his 2nd year as chief of trauma surgery)

Jessica Capshaw: plays Arizona Robbins; actual age is [39]; character’s age is around 38 (completed college at age 22, 4 years med school, 5 year surgical residency, 2-3 years that we know of at Seattle Grace as an attending, currently in her 4th year as pediatric surgery chief, including <12 months accelerated fellowship with Dr. Herman )

Sarah Drew: plays April Kepner; actual age is [35]; character’s age is around 35 (completed college at age 22, 4 years med school, 5 years surgical residency, currently in her 4th year as a trauma surgery attending, including sabbaticals to do some Doctors without Borders type situation for at least 12-15 months total that I can calculate)

Jesse Williams: plays Jackson Avery; actual age is [34]; character’s age is around 35 (completed college at age 22, 4 years med school, 5 years surgical residency, 1-2 years plastic surgery attending, currently in his 2nd year as plastic surgery chief )

Caterina Scorsone: plays Amelia Shepherd; actual age is [34]; character’s age has to be at least 38, more likely 40 (completed college at age 22, 4 years medical school, 5 year surgical residency, 2 year neurosurgical residency, 1-3 years teaching fellow, 2-5 years as neurosurgeon on Private Practice, currently in her 2nd year as neurosurgical chief)

Camilla Luddington: plays Jo Wilson; actual age is [32]; character’s age is 30 (completed college at age 22, 4 years medical school, currently in her 4th year as a surgical resident)

Jerrika Hinton; plays Stephanie Edwards; actual age is [34]; character’s age is 30 (completed college at age 22, 4 years medical school,, currently in her 4th year as a surgical resident)

Kelly McCreary: plays Maggie Pierce; actual age is [34]; character’s age is 32 (completed college at age 17-ish, 3 years medical school, 5 year surgical residency, 3 years cardiothoracic surgical fellowship, 2-3 years cardiothoracic surgical head at some other hospital, currently in her 2nd year as cardiothoracic surgical chief… AND we know her actual birthdate)

Giancomo Gianniotti: plays Andrew DeLuca; actual age is [26]; character’s age is at least 28, no more than 31 (completed high school at age 18, 1-4 years as EMT, 4 years college, 4 years medical school, currently is his 1st year as a surgical intern)

Martin Henderson: plays Nathan Riggs; actual age is [41]; character’s age is anywhere between 44-47 based on time spent with Hunt in med school (completed college at age 22-24, 4 years medical school when he met Hunt, 5 years surgical residency, some time with Hunt as an Army trauma surgeon, some time with Kepner while doing her Doctors without Borders thing, currently in his 1st year as a cardiothoracic attending)

Jason George: plays Ben Warren; actual age is [44]; character’s age is around 38-ish (completed college at age 22, 4 years medical school, 4 year anesthesia residency, came to Seattle Grace from Mercy West as an attending, so let’s say he was an attending for 2-ish years, then attending at Seattle Grace for 2 years, 1 year surgical residency at UCLA, currently in his 4th (I think…) year surgical residency after the transfer home)

OLD CAST MEMBERS

Sandra Oh: played Cristina Yang; actual age is [44]; character’s age is around 36-ish (completed college at 22-ish, somehow completed her PhD and MD in 6 years, she was 28 during her intern year, 5 years surgical residency, 1 year attending, 3rd year as director of hospital in Zurich).

T.R. Knight: played George O’Malley; actual age is [43]; character died at age 29, would be 35 had he lived (completed college at 22, 4 years med school, made it to, but not through his 3rd year of residency).

Katherine Heigl: played Izzie Stevens; actual age is [36]; character left the show at age 30, would be around 35 had she stayed (completed college at 23, 4 years med school, fired during her 3rd year of residency, doing who-the-hell-cares-what is the 6 years since)

Isaiah Washington: played Preston Burke; actual age is [52]; character’s age is 50-something (all they ever mentioned about the character was he is 40-something, and that was during casting, so presumably he’s 50-something as we’re now 9-ish years later in time)

Patrick Dempsey: played Derek Shepherd; actual age is [50]; character died at age 45, would be 47 had he lived (completed college at age 22, 4 years medical school, then got married in 1994, 5 year surgical residency, fellowship , etc. Age as of late 2015: deceased at age 45-ish)

Kate Walsh: played Addison Montgomery; actual age is [48]; character’s age is around 48 (completed college at 22, 6 years college + PhD program, 4 years med school, 5 year surgical residency, and some other stuff, but she was 39 in the season 8 finale of Grey’s Anatomy in 2006, which matches her supposed birth year of 1967, and technically another 7 years have passed in time since that season which was basically residency year 2, sooooooo weird timing there, just ignore it) [also, I’m not considering her character as really gone from the show, she could come back for a crazy surgery to assist Arizona at any time, it could happen people!]

Eric Dane: played Mark Sloan; actual age is [43] character died at age 44, would be 48 had he lived (completed college at age 22, 4 years med school, 5 year surgical residency, basically the same age as Derek and Addison, he ad Derek were friends as kids)

Brooke Smith: played Erica Hahn; actual age is [48]; they never quite got around to her age, but I estimate her as 50-something (completed college around age 22, 4 years med school, 5 year surgical residency, and she was in the same year of school as Preston Burke).

Chyler Leigh: played Lexie Grey; actual age is [34]; character died at age 27, would be 31 had she lived (completed college at age 19, 4 years med school, made it to but not through 4th year surgical residency).

Kim Raver: played Teddy Altman; actual age is [47]; they don’t say her age, but her character was at least 40 when she left the show, would be 45 had she stayed (completed college at age 22, 4 years med school, 5 year surgical residency, 2 years fellowship, joined Army after 9/11/01)

Gaius Charles: played Shane Ross; actual age is [32]; character’s age is completely a guess at 30 (completed college at age 22, 4 years medical school 2+ years surgical residency at Seattle Grace before leaving with Yang, currently in his 4th year of surgical residency at the Klausman Institute for Medical Research)

Tess Ferrer: played Leah Murphy; actual age is [30]; character’s age is a guess at 28 (they identified her birth year as 1987, which makes her four years younger than Pierce, so she completed college at age 21-ish, 4 years medical school, fired during her 2nd-ish year of surgical residency, hopefully working in that research Webber sent her to since then)

 


Gearing Up For… Adventure…?

Friday morning, I woke up early. Not by choice, but because I had a job to do. It was my job to fall asleep in the car, awaking only to occasionally criticize the husband’s driving as he drove himself and a friend to JFK to catch a flight to Haiti.

They will be gone for the weekend for a music festival there, and I’m super jealous. You know why I’m jealous? Because as I was layering up to brave an admittedly better-than-Chicago New York City winter, the husband sent me this:

IMG-20140117-WA0000

That’s the view from the restaurant hotel. It’s 92 degrees there. The life of a musician y’all.

Now that I have a husband-taken photo of Haiti to prove he’s really away for the weekend, I have to see what fun stuff I’ll get into while he’s gone.

The first step was to go to work. Super fun.

I have to admit, I do usually enjoy myself at work. My co-workers are hilarious. And there’s nothing that quite compares to the feeling of helping a grieving family have their loved one live on through the gift of donation.

But as soon as work finishes for the weekend, I see myself…

Eh, probably not. There’s not nearly enough space in our apartment for sliding across the floor. I’d more likely end up with a black eye from sliding directly into the nearest wall.

I’ve got the soup kitchen Saturday morning and church Sunday morning. Then the husband is back Sunday evening. So I only have a bit of time to squeeze in some husband-free hilarity.

But… I don’t know what to do. The husband is a wonderful person who understands he married a crazy person who feels the need to occasionally escape the life she created for herself.

So he allows me to pretend like I live alone occasionally. That basically means taking over the bathroom for a marathon bubble bath with lots of wine and minimal interruptions. Or an afternoon of watching Hulu on my phone with very little talking. Most men would think their wife was crazy, but the husband accepts me for who I am.

So now that I don’t have to pretend he’s not here, I don’t have any good ideas. All I can think of are the things I do when he’s just in the next room. I suppose I could go out somewhere, but it’s still so cold outside.

By the time the post publishes, I’ll be getting some sleep before heading to the Village for the soup kitchen. But then what?

All the stuff I wanna do seems so boring and not properly taking advantage of the free time. After Wednesday’s poorly executed day off, I want to do more. I want to live!

And yes, I also want to stop the melodrama regarding my first world problems.

I don’t think I’m at a shortage for living. I think that I’ll look back on this time, this here the end of my 20s, and feel good about it. Considering our budget (argh budgets!), and available free time, I think I’m good.

Probably the only thing I’ll regret is that I didn’t see more movies.

Oh damn, I think my heart’s desire for my free time on Saturday is a movie marathon.

I need to go boo myself. I’ll be back.

Okay, that’s not quite what I meant.

Okay, I’ve come to accept that my heart’s desire is aiming a little low. Perhaps inspiration will strike. I live in freaking New York City, and I need to do better.

Hello, my name is Chicago-Style Girl, and at times I’m painfully ordinary.

For fun, I like to go to the movies, go shopping, go out to eat, go bowling, go rock climbing, cook, read, watch TV, play games, attend live concerts or sporting events. So freaking regular

Hey, maybe there’s an indoor rock climbing place somewhere around here. But I probably can’t go alone. Argh. Maybe I can go to a basketball game. But again, I don’t want to go alone.

This is the problem with moving to a new place. Making new friend to hang out with you spontaneously in search of adventure is hard. Every one here is always so busy. Group spontaneity is hard to come by, at least so far.

Eh, I’ll figure out something. I’ll do my best not to come back in my next post describing how delicious the wine was that I drank as I caught up on the season premier of American Idol. I’m off to seek adventure!


That Time I Almost Stabbed An Old Man In The Street

Before I talk about that time I almost stabbed an old man in the street, I first want to follow-up on yesterday. It’s like God heard my not-actually-prayed prayers and found a solution to my problems.

I will have time to wash my clothes before I have to wear more awful clothing combinations to work. I was sitting at work when one of the other shift leaders asks me if I want to go home, take a nap, then come back that night.

I did a quick thinking process and decided I was in. I gathered my things and left. I got home and took a nice long nap until it was time to get up to go do my volunteer thing. I definitely went the wrong way once or twice on the way (anyone want to teach me the difference between north and south?), but I finally got to the place.

The woman I’m working with has her final next week. So when I go back on Monday, we’re going to work hard to make sure she’s as prepared as possible for the final. Then the following weekend, we will celebrate her doing well by taking an excursion somewhere. We haven’t figured out where yet, but I’m really looking forward to it.

I’m glad this is going well because I know sometimes volunteer work can be unfulfilling and boring. This work is anything but. She even showed me her latest sonogram today! My personal opinion happens to be that sonograms look weird and pretty icky, but I was just happy for her that she wanted to show the pictures off.

I’m sure the husband will want to pat me on the back for keeping my strong ass opinions to myself for once. Thank God I have this blog to let it out on you people. I figure you’re asking for my opinions because you bother to read my words.

I’ll probably be one of the few ladies who shuns her own sonograms while she’s pregnant. The doctor will be all, “hey, want a picture of your baby? Isn’t it grand?” And I’ll be all, “um, no that alien looking thing belongs in my womb, not floating around in my purse or on my refrigerator blown up 100x. No thank you.” Then the husband will shake his head at me and request the picture anyway.

Back on topic now. After I was done with the tutoring, I headed to work. I worked until the morning at which point I went home. Now I’m not due back until Friday, so I actually have time to, you guessed it, wash my clothes!

Because I worked last night, I could wear causal clothes, which I haven’t run out of yet. And on casual Friday, I can also wear the jeans instead of the slacks. That gives me four whole days to manage to wash some clothes for work on Monday. Of course, I’ll be quite tired from flipping back and forth from day sleep to night sleep, so I still may not get it done. I’m not gonna worry about that just yet though.

On to the point of this post. In the course of getting ready for my trip out of town last weekend, I decided to take a trip down to Greenwich Village in Manhattan rather than to the Laundromat, you know, to wash clothes.

Down in Greenwich Village, I was reminded yet again of why I love that neighborhood. It just feels neighborhood-y and community-ish. The people all seem to carry the sense of belonging and lack of judgment with them everywhere they go.

My destination when I got there was this lovely little shop that sells essential oils. I’ll explain in a later post why I needed essential oils, but there I was, making some purchases, feeling very Village-like. I left the shop and noticed there was a vegan grocery store, a yoga studio, a sushi bar, and a LGBT community center all within the same half a block.

Even though I’m heterosexual and such a carnivore (pun intended), I felt so at home. That type of acceptance of any lifestyle put a big smile on my face. I don’t know how much time you people have spent around others who aren’t like yourself. I’ve encountered communities that are so supportive of vegans that they judge meat-eaters. I’ve also been around homosexuals and bisexuals that shun heterosexuals.

But nobody was eye-ing my I heart bacon sweatshirt with ire. I fit right in and happily so.

Just as I was reveling in my daydreams about moving into this building that looked like a fancy version of my current brownstone, my thoughts were interrupted by this man. He was leaning forward, swaying unsteadily on his feet. For some reason, he was holding a 7-Eleven big gulp cup partially in front of his eyes in a very I-can-see-you-but-you-can’t-see-me kind of way.

He swayed into my path and began lumbering toward me. When I stepped to the side to go around him, he stepped to the side to stay in my way. Then he started talking. I don’t recall exactly what he said, but he kept calling me Lady and laughing each time he said it.

When he got closer, I stopped walking forward and actually started taking steps back. As I stepped back, he stepped forward. This was officially an awful moment. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I ran through the options.

1)      Mace his ass.

2)      Cut his ass.

3)      Run away.

4)      See if he needed help.

The first option was a good one since I had an adorable pink bottle of pepper spray in my purse. The second option was the most attractive, but I didn’t have a box cutter with me because the husband refused to buy me one. I’m pretty sure it was out of pure laziness that he didn’t buy it for me. And I’m pretty sure it was out of pure laziness that I didn’t buy it for myself.

The third option just isn’t my style. I prefer fight over flight. The last option didn’t feel very safe. I’m alone in New York, so I can’t afford the risk to my safety by reaching out to strangers like that. I just got here, and I’d like to keep myself safe.

Based on those options, I began reaching for my pepper spray, cursing both myself and my husband that I didn’t have a box cutter. I’m not against cutting an old man who’s starting to scare me. But before I could pull out the pepper spray, another man on the street told the man to leave me alone because he was clearly scaring me.

They argued back and forth a bit over whether or not he was scaring me. Ultimately the creepy old man with the big gulp cup gave up and crossed the street, muttering to himself.

I left my pepper spray in my purse and thanked the man for his intervention.

Then I called the husband and fussed at him for not buying me a box cutter. I clearly needed to cut an old man, but wasn’t able to because he was being lazy.

The husband, who is saner than I am, immediately let me know that it wasn’t a bad thing that I got through the afternoon without cutting an old man.

Agree to disagree.

On my agenda while I have some time at the Laundromat: heading to the nearby hardware store to purchase a box cutter.

That old man may have been harmless, but I don’t want to be naïve enough to think everybody who walks up on me in this city will be. I’ve got plans for my life, and they don’t include becoming a statistic to senseless violence. Yeah, that just got real.


I Just Paid Someone $100 To Torture Me

The last time I got my hair done before leaving Chicago was July 2nd. That’s not crazy by standards for those of us with locs, but it was getting rough for me. I try to get my hair done every four weeks.

That meant one of my top tasks after arriving in New York was to find a place to get my hair done. I wanted to stay close to home if possible.

All the places I looked up charged way more than my hair lady in Chicago. But there were several options close by. The first place I sought out was the very closest. It is literally right around the corner from my brownstone.

You can surmise by the title of this post that this trip to the new hair place didn’t exactly go well. So here’s what happened last Saturday.

My appointment was for 10AM. I arrived at 9:56, there was no one there. I rang the bell a few times, but no one answered. Finally, around 9:02, I called the lady I made the appointment with. She answered almost immediately to let me know that she was pulling up.

She looked out her window and me and smiled apologetically as she parked. I let them know it was no problem, and that in the future, it would probably be me that was running late.

We got inside and they offered me juice and fruit and water. I took the juice and settled down while they cleaned up. I’d never been to a shop before that cleaned up first thing in the morning as opposed to last thing the night before, but there’s a first time for everything, right?

After a while, they asked me to sit in the chair. They let me know they got a strawberry red color to dye my hair and also a honey blonde color. I had previously told them that I needed a strawberry blonde color for my hair to turn out the color it currently was.

I don’t know how much you know about dying hair, but it’s probably two more things than I know. I could barely describe what my hair lady in Chicago did, so I went with it. When they were describing to me what the different hair dye components do, I tried to let them know that all of that mean nothing for my hair.

My hair doesn’t take color easily and it never turns out the color expected. Even a trained colorist has to pull out all the tricks when it comes to my hair.

They have me all the “OK”s and “No problem”s, so I thought we’d be fine. That much confidence needs to be backed up with something right? I mean, how many people walk into a shop swearing their hair reacts unexpectedly to color and have verified this with every person who’s ever done their hair?

So anyway, she starts with the strawberry color. She applies it and I looked in the mirror and said, “this looks very very red.” She said, “I know, but when I rinse it out, it will tone down.”

When she rinsed it out, it didn’t tone down.

I sat in the chair, looking at a mirror, assessing my options.

Option #1: Slap her and then slap the other lady who vouched for her.

Option #2: Cry and run screaming from the shop straight to small claims court.

Option #3: Make the best of it because I live right by here and she is just hard-headed as hell.

Of course, I chose option #3. I assessed the color they dyed my hair. I had these red ass roots and the rest of my hair looked super blonde next to it. My hair is not even a little blonde, but that’s how it looked in comparison.

As red as this hair was, it was pretty flattering next to my face. So I said, “take note of this color because the next time I decide to go red, this is the color!”

The girl laughed and looked relieved that I didn’t choose option #1.

Because I doubted whether or not I’d actually be back to this shop, I grabbed one of the empty bottles of color so I could find it again.

So after dyeing my hair and awesome yet mismatching shade of red, she decides she’s going to put the honey blonde on top of it. So she does.

Show of hands, who thinks it worked?

Anyone?

No?

You’re all right. It didn’t work.

After she rinses it off, only the baby hairs at the very edges of my scalp look like they might be the right color. All the rest of my roots just looked—no not orange. My roots still looked the same damn red.

At this point, she looks concerned. Her concern increased after I told her she had two options.

Option #1: Figure out a way to fix my hair because I wasn’t leaving the shop with my hair looking like that.

Option #2: Dye all the rest of my hair this awesome red and I’d just be a redhead from now on.

She considered her options and knew that she’d have to eat a lot of profit to cover the cost of coloring my whole head red. So she decided that she could definitely fix the color.

Her first step was to bleach the hair she’d just processed two times.

I’m telling y’all, I was watching my hair like a hawk, prepared to backhand any and everybody at the first sign of my hair falling out.

I’m lucky I have strong hair, but I won’t be repeating this assault on my hair ever again.

After she bleached it, then it was orange. So off to the beauty supply store, for the third time that day, she went.

She returned with a color that she said had a swatch that was closest to my desired hair color. At this, I was even more frustrated. I had already explained that my hair doesn’t take color well.

That means whatever the swatch of hair is colored in the store, my hair won’t look anything like that when we’re done.

The actual color was this coppery color that was pretty. Just not pretty on me. You try to put a reddish-blonde color on my hair with golden undertones and it turns copper. Good to know.

After she was done with that, she said, “I see what you mean now about how strawberry blonde was probably the best color to use.”

If I were even 1% more violent that I am in my natural state, I definitely would’ve slapped her. It’s just so frustrating that she didn’t listen to me once in this whole process. That coppery color looks crazy next to my scalp line. It’s just too orange for my complexion. I can’t wait until it grows out and I can fix it.

So after I resign myself to having these coppery roots, We get down to the business of rolling my locs so they look fresher.

This part was lovely. I remember being so apprehensive because my scalp was sore by this point. All the color processing had made me quite sensitive and I was concerned I was going to be in a lot of pain.

But there was no pain. She moved quickly and efficiently. I found myself thinking I actually preferred the way she palm rolled my locs over what my Chicago hair lady did.

She put me under the dryer and then oiled my scalp before I left. I like the way my hair looked, if I ignored the roots.

I paid her the cost for rolling the locs and dyeing the roots and left. At this point, it was ten hours after I’d arrived to the shop in the first place. Ten freaking hours.

On a normal day, even with hair color, it shouldn’t take more than four hours from start to finish.

Because I’m crazy (remember my response to the virgin sacrifice apartment?), I actually thought about returning to the shop. It’s just so close to my house and I really liked the way she rolled my hair.

Then two days passed. And I realized the rolled my hair the wrong way. I’m not sure how to fully explain this. When locs are palm rolled, they are rolled between the palms. As the hair grows out, you roll the roots in the same direction while it’s wet. Then you put a hair clip in to hold it until you can dry the hair. Once the hair is dry, it stays rolled in that direction and the hair continues to lock on the same pattern.

This chick rolled my damn hair in the opposite direction!

My hair hangs to my shoulder blades. So I’ve got almost a foot of hair that is quite obviously rolled in one direction.

But she didn’t care.

All she wanted was to stick with what she knew.

She rolled my hair in the direction I assume she rolls everyone’s hair.

So now my hair is starting to look a little funky at the point where the locked hair meets the newly rolled hair.

So that settles it.

I’m not going back to that shop.

And I’ll give them the side eye when I walk past on the way to another shop to get my hair done.

Except…

I left my umbrella there.

So I’ll go back, but just for that.


Is It Weird To Ask For Her Number?

Hey everybody! This is my 275th blog post. That’s pretty cool, right? Sometime this fall, I’ll be on my 300th post. I’ve got to make it something special. Bloggers do that right? Eh, whatever.

Continuing with my trend of hopping back and forth from my time in Chicago and my time in New York, I want to talk about making new friends in New York. Or rather, I want to talk about my failed attempts to make new friends.

My girls and I joke about how we’re too old to make new friends. It usually sounds something like, “you chicks are crazy! Y’all are lucky I’m too old to make new friends or everyone would be replaced.”

I think perhaps we could be nicer to each other…?

Since I’ve been in New York, my girls remind me several times a week that I better not be out making new friends. They took a vote and decided against having auditions for a new me.

They realized it would be too difficult to find someone who makes everyone else look tall, mix up amazing cocktails, and always has a witty joke to cosign another joke.

That’s a tall order, so for now I’m irreplaceable.

Because they’re not replacing me, they don’t want me to replace them. That’s fair enough (bitches), but that means I’ve been spending a lot of time alone while I’m waiting for the husband to arrive.

I’ve met some really nice people who would make great friends acquaintances, but I suck at making new friends. You know there’s a story supporting this assertion.

My first weekend as a Brooklyn resident was going well. My best friend was still here and we were exploring to our hearts’ content.

Sunday saw us heading to the nearest Laundromat to wash clothes. While we were washing, we went to this frozen yogurt/smoothie/crepes place called Brooklyn Swirl. When you say the name, you have to be extra fabulous (think: Swiiiiirrrrll).

I ordered some very delicious cookies ‘n cream frozen yogurt. As we sat there hanging out and people watching, we saw a lot of the congregation of the nearby church walking past. Lots of people of all ages, families of all sizes, and church hats of all colors were everywhere.

It reminded me a lot of what I would see at my own home church in Chicago. I made a note to try the church out the following Sunday (which I totally did by the way; that’s going to be another post). The people looked friendly and welcoming, which only added to how awesome I had decided Brooklyn was.

Then the shop owner came over to introduce himself. When he learned I’d just moved into the neighborhood, he invited me to join the rewards program. Something like one free frozen yogurt for every 6 or 8 purchases or something.

We went back to put our clothes in the dryer. They had these huge industrial size dryers, so we decided to throw our clothes in together rather than pay for separate drums. The catch was that my best friend’s clothes weren’t done washing yet.

We started washing at the same time. The exact same time. In identical washing machines.

When my clothes were done washing, hers were still spinning strong, looking very sudsy.

Ten minutes later, her machine is still going strong, still looking full of soap.

At this point, we’re just confused. The lady who worked the Laundromat told us that machine runs a little slower than the others. We gave her this why-didn’t-you-tell-us-that-in-the-beginning-because-we-would’ve-made-different-choices-with-our-lives look.

She was unimpressed with our look and went back to her business.

Finally, another ten minutes later, my friend’s machine finishes.

So we load up the dryer and put what felt like endless amounts of quarters into the machine and ended up with 87 minutes on the clock. That’s such an odd number, right?

While the clothes were drying, we decided to head over to Peaches for brunch. This restaurant is so amazing that I’m definitely going to give it its own What’s Hot In New York post.

We sit down at the bar to eat because we didn’t have the time or patience to wait for a table, hashtag no reservations.

The bartender was nice and provided just as good of service as we would get from a waiter. While we’re eating and chatting away, we’re still doing the people watching thing.

These two girls came in and sat next to us at the bar. During the course of them ordering, we ended up striking up a conversation.

Both girls were transplants, just like us. They were from Philly. One lived in the Bronx and one lived in Brooklyn. The one who lived in Brooklyn was really nice and sweet. She was funny and we had a lot of the same interests.

When she heard the husband is a jazz musician, she was pretty excited at the possibilities of maybe having some future things to get into in the neighborhood just become of incoming local talent.

We were there first, so we finished first. We paid the bill and said our good-byes.

As soon as we left the restaurant, my best friend asked me why I didn’t get the girl’s information.

I considered my responses.

  1. My other friends constantly threaten me to keep me from making new friends.
  2. I’m not a friendly person and so I have no recent experience on how to make new friends.
  3. I considered it and everything I thought of in my head to say sounded like a weirdly lesbian pickup line. “Can I get your number? I’d love to call you so we can hang out some time because you seem so sweet.”
  4. I only really liked the girl who lived in Brooklyn, and it would be awkward to only try and befriend one of the girls.

All the reasons floated around and finally I settled on, “I’m so not good at making new friends.”

She chuckled and said, “clearly.” Then she gave me tips on what I could say for the next time I meet someone I’d like to hang out with again, or if I ever run into that girl again.

My best friend is pretty well versed in this because she lived in New York for some years and she came alone too.

I can totally see myself acting out this scenario in the future:

I’m at a bar or lounge or restaurant and I’ve met an interesting person to talk to. I excuse myself to go to the bathroom, telling them I’ll be right back. I round the corner and immediately call my best friend. I beg her to listen to the situation and give me tips on how to pick up this new potential friend. She laughs at me, but then helps.

So terrible, I know.

The husband will be here in six days (six days, yay!!!) and I do much better at meeting people when he’s here. Pretty much, I just need a Cancer by my side and I can make new friends.

Plus when the husband gets here, we’ll be hanging out with his musician friends and their wives, so that’ll be nice as well.

Okay, back to my story. After I got schooled on how to pick up new friends, we went back to the Laundromat. Our clothes were nice and dry, so we packed the up and headed back to the apartment.

I was really hoping to try out my new friend-making techniques, but I didn’t get a chance.

We ended up at this nice bar/lounge place over on Stuyvesant Sunday night. There was live music playing and it was amazing. I can’t wait to the take the husband there. The way I described it made the husband think it had potential to be our Local Watering Hole. He feels very strongly about us having one of these.

In this bar though, there were only three types of people there, none of which are great candidates for first-new-friend-in-New-York-City.

  1. Almost-Dirty-Old-Men: They were friendly and definitely more nice than lecherous. But if they were looking to be someone’s sugar daddy/friend, they couldn’t afford me.
  2. Couples: I really really really suck at making friends with couples without the husband around. I mostly just come off like I’m looking for a threesome. It’s awful.
  3. Middle Aged Women: these chicks seemed like they were looking to let their hair down in the small gap available between Sunday morning church and Monday morning work. I try to stay away from that.

Perhaps when the husband arrives, we’ll do good with the couples that hang out there. Even though I didn’t hit the ground running with making new friends, I was at least learning new places. Perhaps it will get easier once potential new friends start to see me more often.

Maybe.

Maybe?


And We’re Still Together

Does anybody watch the TV show Pysch? I love that show. It’s so hilarious and absolutely ridiculous, but I’ve seen every single episode for all 7 seasons. A very recent episode of Psych made me think more than that show ever intended.

I’ve been following these characters for seasons, so I was feeling very emotionally invested when one of them finally got married to a woman who was perfect for him. No dramedy is complete without a possible breakup at a wedding, so when that happened, I got really introspective.

I began thinking of how much it must hurt for the guy breaking up to watch the people not breaking up. I remembered what it felt like to want to be past dating and just be with the person God intended for me.

I was happy being single because I found things about it I liked, but I have never been the type of person who preferred being single over being in a relationship.

Remembering that feeling made me feel a longing for the safety of a happy relationship. When you are committed, bad things can happen, and it’s okay.

Are there things bad enough to blow up even a very solid relationship? Well, yes, there has to be. Otherwise, the divorce rate wouldn’t be as high as it is.

But in that moment watching a couple ending juxtaposed against one taking a next important relationship step, I was so happy I was couple #2. They were happy and solid. They had quite literally dodged bullets on their way down the aisle to get married.

Luckily, there aren’t any bullets involved with the husband. Just lots of live music. And nothing about his talent is fake, so we’re a step ahead of all the couples on Psych at least.

I’m sure there is something wrong with me to become so thoughtful because of an episode of Psych. James Roday would either be highly offended or complimented.

I’m just thankful I’ve got my solid thing going. I much prefer the comfort of a happy relationship over anything else. For as long as it lasts, this is where I’m staying.

God-willing, it will last forever.


Being Addicted, But You Know, In A Good Way

Have you any addictions? Of course you do. If your addiction is cocaine or sex or re-runs of The Jersey Shore, please keep that to yourself. Oh, and seek help.

I’m here to talk about addictions that are less horrifying. Really, they are more like vices. Like Hostess cupcakes (may they rest in peace) or a less horrid TV show (like the Walking Dead). My addictions are: salt and vinegar chips, most primetime TV, painting my nails, and this stupid game called Monster Park.

Let’s talk about the chips first. Since I first had teeth, I’ve been all for crunchy foods. Pickles, apples, raw veggies, potato chips, or whatever else I could get my hands on were my preference to mushy foods. I’m not a fan of salt in high quantities, but I love me some acidity. It’s gotten to the point where I can’t even get a sandwich from Potbelly’s without getting two, that’s right two, bags of chips of the Zappo’s salt and vinegar chips. It’s really the large amount of unhealthy things, i.e., calories, fat, salt, that I’m ingesting that’s the concern. Maybe I’ll switch to baked potato fries with malt vinegar. That’s kind of the same thing, right?

Then there is primetime TV. I had a day off last week and spent the entire daytime catching up on episodes of all my shows on Hulu Plus. The husband, who really wanted to play video games, was judging the large number of shows I watch. I don’t mean to watch so many, but I get hooked. Each fall and summer, I look at the upcoming premiers. I assess if I really want to keep watching renewed shows. I assess which new shows I’ll give a chance, and I assess which old shows I may want to give a second chance. The number adds up. Right now, I’m currently following 32 shows on Sidereel. That’s not including shows like Rachel Maddow, Bill Maher, Stephen Colbert, or The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. So really, it’s more like upwards of 35… Is that a lot…?

The good news is I don’t spend every night glued to the TV because I’m usually just coming home from work during primetime. Also, some of those shows are midseason replacements or their seasons are split between summer and fall. So it’s really on half that at any one time. Still, it’s an addiction that doesn’t seem to be getting any better.

Painting my nails became an addiction while I was engaged. Turns out the husband likes long nails, so I grew them. I don’t like acrylics, and I wanted to have my own longer nails for the wedding. And since then, we’ve discovered a love of all different nail polish colors. That’s right, we. The husband is an enabler in this addiction. He hasn’t gone so far as to buy me nail polish, but he oohs and aahs over new colors, making me want even more. If my polish gets chipped too soon, I have to force myself not to immediately repaint my nails. I know it’s not healthy to do it too often, so I try not to do it more than once a week. I always fail. But that’s why I invested in a slightly costly nail protein base coat that helps strengthen my nails. Ah, the things we do for vanity. And color. And pleasing the husband. And color.

Lastly, there is this stupid game called Monster Park. It’s an app on my Samsung Galazy S3 that I downloaded on a whim, and have been addicted to ever since. You breed these monsters, and collect crystals to feed them, and expand your park to house them, and get silver and make more and buy decorations and all this other crap. It’s one of the most useless games ever, but I love it. I frequently visit the Monster Park Fan website to make sure I’m using the right monter combo in breeding the right baby monster. I literally open and play this game 15-30 times a day. It sucks you in and the next thing you know, you’re on a forum debating whether you’d prefer a Republephant or a Donkeycrat first. It’s just insanity. And it only makes sense if you’ve actually encountered it. See what I mean?

This is just one view of the Monster Park. Looks complicated yet pointless, right?

My addictions are not really so terrible. So maybe I spend too much time watching television. So maybe I spend too much time painting my nails. And maybe I eat to many potato chips. And maybe Monster Park is taking over all my free time. But is that really so bad?

Yeah, I sound like an addict. My only hope is for the next lineup of shows to all suck. And for baked chips to taste amazing. And for someone to create a no chip polish that really works.


You Will Get Arrested

The husband and I were driving home after a very long day. As we drove around crowded ass Hyde Park looking for parking, we saw a woman jogging down the street. The husband found this odd because it was almost 11:30 pm. I didn’t think it was that odd because you exercise when you have the time, and perhaps this was her only free time that day.

The husband felt she was taking a risk because it was dangerous to be alone out on the street that late at night. Once he said that, I understood his point. I told him if I were to go running that late I’d have protection. He found this funny for several reasons. First, I hate running, so I most likely will never be running , even if it is 11:30 at night.

Second, I wouldn’t be running unprotected. After I thought about it for a bit, I said, “If I did run at night, which I wouldn’t, I’d be running with a knife in one hand and pepper spray in the other.”

After he finally finished laughing, he told me, “you will definitely get arrested if you go jogging with a knife and pepper spray in yours hands.” We completely disagreed on this. I told him he was dead wrong because I already walked around with pepper spray. The nights when I come home alone very late, before I even get out of my car, I’m holding my pepper spray ready to spray. I keep my head on a swivel in case anyone tries to come up on me quickly in the dark or out of a shadow. I didn’t see how adding a knife to that would take me from perfectly safe to definitely arrested.

In my head, I’m thinking I’d have a little switchblade I would hold in my balled-up fist that could be brought out with only a moment’s notice. In the husband’s head, he’s imagining me running down 53rd with a big ass butcher knife. I’m talking heavy-duty, shiny metal reflecting the street lights, knuckles turning pale from gripping the handle.

Even I had to crack up at that imagery. If I saw a woman running down the street holding a butcher knife, I’d probably call 911. Even if she was dressed in workout clothes, I’d be worried. I feel bad for whatever man she was running towards and hope the police got there before he was slashed to bits.

I had to clear up the confusion. I explained that I meant a switchblade, not a butcher knife. And I showed the husband my pepper spray. He remembered it from when I purchased it once he saw it again. The fact that it was tiny, cute as hell in it’s powder pink bottle, and so unassuming made him agree that maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t get arrested if I went jogging.

But don’t worry my dear readers, I won’t be getting arrested any time soon. Because even though I would have a knife and pepper spray while running, it’s more important to note that I won’t ever be running. I know the importance of getting my heart rate up and all that. But Tracy Anderson has me hopping and jumping all over my living room every damn morning. And the only thing I have to fend off there are my two cats who love to setup shop on my workout mat.


Filling Up Two Days Off

You ever stare at an empty post template and wonder what to write? That’s happening to me write now. Unfortunately for you, that means you get to read my stream of consciousness until I stumble upon something I want to write about.

I could write about how the husband and I don’t see eye to eye on what makes us upset. I think people are allowed to be upset about different things. He thinks everyone in the world should only be upset about things that also make him upset.

I could write about how I miss my family because I haven’t seen them since our lovely trip to Ikea last weekend. My brother got into a car accident and I haven’t even been able to look him over to assure myself he’s got no internal bleeding.

I could write about how we really need two cars until we move to NYC, but we’ve really only got the one reliable car and one I doubt will make it through the winter. Everyone seems to want me to pick up a car note, which is insane because we’re about to move to New York!

I could write about how the exercise/diet program is going. Tracy Anderson says no substitutions, but I am the substitution queen, and I’m okay with that.

I could write about how hard it is to stick to our budget. Two months into a firm budget and I’m seeing how tough things get right around the 16th of each month.

It’s pretty obvious that I’m feeling scatterbrained right now. What do you do when you’re scatterbrained? When in doubt, do a diary entry? Eh, why not.

I’m working this whole weekend, but I had two days off before that. I’m starting to get used to having multiple productive days in a row. It suits me I think.

I feel like an asshole for not being more productive before. It’s like, what the hell have you been doing with the last couple years, girl? It turns out there are enough hours in the day to clean up, cook, exercise, sleep, etc. I have learned that I can’t do everything every day. I’m still mystified by people who can. My mother has a friend who washes a load of clothes every day. EVERY DAY. How does she do it?

I’ll never be a person who can wash clothes every day, or mop the floor every day, or cook every day. But I can mop the floor at least once a week. And I can wash clothes as least once a week, just not the same day I’m mopping. And I’ve finally mastered the art of cooking for more than one day at a time.

When you have to juggle making meals for your diet plan and making meals that fill up your husband, you get better at maximizing your time in the kitchen. It helps that I love to cook; I don’t think someone who loathes being in the kitchen could handle it.

The best part about my new productiveness is that I can schedule in time for mindless activities too. Like blogging. Nah, I’m just kidding. I mean like watching television. I love the TV show Leverage. There are a couple others as well, like Burn Notice and White Collar I try to keep up with. I love my summer television, what can I say? I finally had a few free hours yesterday to head over to my parents and reconnected with their DVR. I don’t remember what life was like before DVRs, and I never want to go back.

As much as I love summer television, I’m looking forward to the fall lineups. For one thing, the money I pay for HuluPlus  is worth it because I can watch all my episodes, which I can’t do during the summer because USA and TNT are so Hulu stingy. There are still a few more weeks before that happens, but I’m excited nonetheless.

To wrap up this diary entry with a TMI moment, I will list, in no particular order, my five favorite moments in my day. 1) My drive to work where it’s just me and either a friend on the phone or my music. 2) When the husband puts  lingerie on the back of the bathroom door during my workout for me to change into once I’ve showered. 3) Eating cookie batter from batches of cookies I make about once a week. 4) Curling up in the bed with the husband, Jazz, and Belle for our afternoon nap. 5) Looking in the mirror and seeing that while my thighs are getting smaller, thankfully my boobs are not (yet!).


Changing My Domain Name

Everyone has naive moments. Some are more spectacular than others. I thought my blog name would be fun. It would be a play on Chicago-style hot dogs. I never did much to play up that theme, so it never really translated.

What’s more is that I get random ass traffic to my blog for searches like “hot girls in chicago” “hot girl” “come to your house strippers chicago” “hot girls chicago”.

Since I barely post pictures of anything, no one is coming to my website and seeing hot girls. They certainly can’t find information about strippers that come to your house.

I don’t want to let go of the Chicago Girl thing I’ve got going though, so I have made some changes. The title of my blog is now Chicago-Style Girl, if you haven’t noticed the change yet. I’m still me, but maybe avoiding the traffic and disappointing those who want to read a blog about sexcapades in Chicago.

My domain name expires in 2 months. I don’t want to wait that long, so in about a week, I”m going to switch over to a new domain. It will be achicagostylegirl.com. Make sure you put that ‘a’ in front. chicagostylgirl.com just leads to a weird geocities website that will put mad malware on your computer.

Once I change over, the old domain will still work for a few more weeks. I’ll make sure to put a note somewhere on the homepage so you can change your feed if you read this blog via RSS.

Once I’m no longer attracting the attention of random ass Google searches, maybe I can put more pictures of myself up without being heckled by someone expecting hot girls.

This is the moment when I realize I don’t have very many pictures of myself. I guess the overkill of pictures from the wedding did it. Oh well, here is a picture of the husband and me from when we went on the cruise a few months ago.

Overhead lighting is our friend


How Do Yo Say…

Would you ever write a blog post that said, “I don’t feel like talking to you right now?”

I’m sure we’ve all read a blog at some point that said how much the blogger didn’t feel like blogging or how they were in the doldrums or something like that. I find myself wondering if they’re still sugar coating.

I’d like to see a leave-me-the-hell-alone for a week blog post. Something that honestly expresses a person’s feelings. You have that moment where you don’t feel like responding to comments, you don’t feel like posting, you don’t feel like reading anyone else’s blog.

Just be real and say you need a break. You’ll be back, we understand.

I started thinking about this because I didn’t feel like blogging today. I didn’t feel like responding to comments. And I didn’t feel like doing anything but asking everyone to give me some space for 48 hrs.

And then I started thinking about what would happen if someone really wrote that type of post. And suddenly, I wanted to blog about it. And once I finish writing this post, I’ll go respond to some comments.

How do you deal when you don’t feel like writing? I don’t mean when you have nothing to say, but when you just don’t feel like it.

And does your apathy extend to the rest of your life? Do you let calls go to voicemail too?

Am I the only who likes being left alone sometimes? So maybe this time it was a fleeting moment because I’m texting and chatting on my cell as I’m writing this post, but I really do feel that way sometimes.

After alluding to not wanting to talk to anyone, I realize it’s not true. I love your comments. You all crack me up. Even better is when my commenters interact with each other. When I’m quite certain you don’t read each other’s blogs, but you talk to each other in my comments section, I feel like I’m bringing people together.

And now I’m feeling all warm and fuzzy and I want a hug instead of a cone of silence. Funny how that works sometimes.


Stop Calling My Cell

Do you answer phone calls from numbers you don’t recognize? I recently commented on someone else’s blog that I don’t ever delete phone numbers from my phone. I’m not kidding. I have the cell number of a guy I dated one time sophomore year of college.

Other people delete numbers, so when they get calls from unknown numbers, the options are endless. For me, there are only four options.

  1. Bill collector. But my bills are up to date and bill collectors leave voicemails.
  2. Someone’s changed their number. We all have those friends who change numbers as often as a drug dealers do. Usually they mass text that their numbers have changed, but occasionally it’s a phone call.
  3. Someone’s trying to call from a different number. They know you have their number and they know the only way you’ll talk to them is if you don’t recognize the number.
  4. Someone’s phone is dead. If you are special enough to someone these days, they know your number by heart. If their phone dies and they need to talk to you, they’ll call from another phone.

I’ve been getting a series of phone calls recently. I listen to my instincts, and they told me not to pick up these calls. So I didn’t answer.

I figured I’d check the voicemail afterward. Only one call left a voicemail and it was an automated message from an elected official.

Because there was no voicemail, that ruled out #1.

Because the calls were from different numbers, that ruled out #2.

Because days have passed and I haven’t been fussed at for missing someone’s call, that rules out #4.

So we’re left with #3. If someone really is calling me from another number thinking that’s the only way they can talk to me, they’re right. I save numbers of people I don’t want to talk to so I know not to respond, “who is this?” to texts and so I know not to even answer the phone or return the voicemail.

I just wish they’d stop calling. We’ll see if I get another call tomorrow. Leaving a voicemail that’s something other than one breath and then a hang up would be nice as well. I’d like to know who’s calling my from a number I don’t recognize.

Do you ever get calls you don’t want to answer?


Not Quite Natural

I am a fan of natural. Not all natural, like I-don’t-wear-deodorant natural. But some natural, like I-don’t-eat-processed-ass-Twinkies natural. It feels like a double standard sometimes. Like I prefer my natural hair, but not my natural hair color. I prefer my natural width (will never hide my hips) but not my natural height (I love my high-heeled shoes).

Things That Aren’t Natural That Creep Me Out

Seedless watermelon and grapes: fruit is supposed to reproduce! That seedless shit isn’t right.

Weave: Sorry for folks who like to buy their length, but it smells, it’s too expensive, and it looks unnatural.

Genetically enhanced chicken: no breast, leg, or wing is supposed to be that large unless it comes from a turkey!

Artificial sweeteners: I can’t even ingest aspartame because it upsets my stomach, but none of that stuff is okay in my book.

Things That Aren’t Natural That Aren’t So Bad

Most hair care products for African-Americans: with the exception of jheri curl products and brown hair gel, the chemist in me loves relaxers, conditioners, etc.

Ice packs and cool packs: that stuff that keeps your body cool or your drink cool are fine with me. Just don’t ever drink it.

Gemstones made in a lab: the stone in my engagement ring was made in a lab, and it’s so much more vibrant (not to mention less outrageously priced) than one someone found in a rock. Plus no foreign miners lost arms to get my stone.

Do you prefer things natural? Or are you more like me with a widely varying stance on what should be natural and what shouldn’t?


A Crazy Call From The Police

No one wants to get a call from the police department at work. You think: “have I committed some felony and not realized it?” “Is someone dead?”

All sorts of things go through your mind. To ease your concern, this call was not about a felony or a death. A co-worker answered the phone and the police asked to speak with my father. Luckily, she recognized the last name and my maiden name and handed the phone call to me.

The police confirmed that the car in the parking lot was the one I drove to work and it was under my father’s name. Then they explained that a man called the police to say he had been driving while drinking and hit a car. He didn’t remember exactly when or where, just a general area, so the police took a look around the business park where my office building is located.

They saw my car and called to make sure that I was aware I may have had my car hit. I let them know the car had recently been in an accident and the damage on the back was likely from that. Side note: my father was driving when and got rear ended; I had nothing to do with the accident.

I went outside to confirm there was no new damage and moved on with my night. Then I thought about the situation some more. I was born and raised in Chicago. Police don’t go searching for car damage and then call people just to warn them just in case in Chicago. This is craziness.

It’s actually quite wonderful that the police in the area around my job are so diligent. It’s not so amazing when they set up alcohol check points and delay my staff on nights when I’m shift lead a half hour while out on break. But it is amazing in case there’s ever a crime committed.

One time, while at home, I called 911 to report gunfire outside my apartment building. The police barely took the information. They never came by to follow-up. And that was actual confirmed gunfire. Let’s just hope if a crime is committed against my car ever again, I’m at work and not at home, okay?


Why Didnt Anybody Tell Me Sex and the City Sucks?

I was so excited the other day. I was perusing the Kindle Store on my Kindle. I notice they finally put Sex and the City out for Kindle. I love the show and the movies and The Carrie Diaries. I also enjoyed other books written by Candace Bushnell.

For whatever reason, I decided to hold off on reading Sex and the City until it became available on the Kindle. So I bought it, downloaded it, and read it.

And then there was confusion… At first the book read like the first couple of episodes of the TV show. Then it just got weird. All these bitter ass, drug using, self loathing women confused me.

Why on earth had Candace Bushnell written such terrible characters? And where was happy, romantic Charlotte? It was so convoluted.

I dragged my way through it, but hated it. Mr. Big sucked in the book even more than he did in the show when he went to Paris without Carrie and came back with the other chick.

I found Carrie soooo annoying. I just didn’t get it. Were Candace Bushnell’s articles on which the book was based that terrible?

Perhaps because I wasn’t in my thirties, on drugs, unmarried and bitter in NYC in the 90s, I just don’t get it.

But whatever. That shit was a waste of money. I’ll just move on and read the next book in the Carrie Diaries series because at least I have a chance to enjoy that.

Did anyone enjoy that book? What did I miss?


“Rejected!” Says the IRS

Stupid tax returns. So I took it upon myself to file my own taxes this year. Each year, my daddy does everyone’s taxes. Like everyone. Me, my brother, him and my mom, my grandmother, extended relatives like great aunts. Everyone!

I only have the one W-2 from work. I figured I could use H&R Block or TurboTax, do it online for free. Boom, band, done in 15 min. So naive I was.

I filled out the forms and submitted online. Then I get an e-mail saying my return was rejected. I suddenly wish my daddy was the one filing for me. But ultimately, I was quite lucky I decided to pretend to be an independent grown-up this year. My dad always waits until the last minute to file and had he found out a 2:00 am right after returns were due that mine was rejected, I’d be screwed.

Since I was ahead of the deadline, I found a way out. I called around to the Social Security Administration and the Internal Revenue Service. Turns out, someone filed tax returns in another state using my SSN.

I was so perplexed. I checked my bank accounts, credit accounts, etc. and no other hinky activity had taken place. Just some asshole in some other state tried to get over on the IRS. Well, they’ve got that asshole. They stopped their return.

I only have like 20 steps to go through and 25 forms to file, but I’ll be able to file my returns this year. And the processing time will be up to 8 weeks for my return. I am honestly just thankful that this problem was able to be sorted out.

I’ve known people who had their identity stolen for credit purposes. That sometimes takes months and years to sort out. I’ll take my 8 weeks and thank my lucky star it wasn’t worse.

Ladies who read this blog who are getting married, take my advice. Don’t get married around tax time. The person I spoke to at the IRS seems to think my information was vulnerable to this because of so many changes going on recently with my name, address, etc.

Apparently people try crap like this all the time, but it can slip through the cracks if there is uncertainty with your information. Occasional checks on your credit information to be sure everything is kosher is a great idea.

So, for now I’m rejected, but in 8 weeks, I won’t be anymore!


Trying To Stop Drooling

As an 80’s baby, I entered my adolescent/teenage years addicted to TGIF. Step by Step, Family Matters, Boy Meets World, I loved it all. I remember Corey and Topanga getting married on Boy Meets World. I remember Alex growing boobs on Step by Step. Most importantly, I remember when Steve Urkel became Stefan Urkel.

As a young girl, I damn near melted. Drooling in front of my TV set was a regular occurrence, and I was flabbergasted when Laura ultimately ended up with Steve while Stefan became a model in Paris. Seriously, to this day, I’m like what the fuck?!

But this is not about my childhood, this is about my adulthood. And as an adult, my lust for the character Stefan Urkel has been transferred to Jaleel White the adult. He’s on Dancing with the Stars this season and I can’t get enough.

Every time he comes on screen, I’m thankful that the husband isn’t nearby so he can’t see my face. I know when he sees this post, he’ll be able to imagine. He’ll just imagine the face I usually reserve only for Will Smith. But I had forgotten how much I love me some Jaleel White.

He’s no conventionally attractive, at least all my friends keep telling me I’m alone in finding him so damn irresistible. But I don’t give a damn. I likes what I likes. And when I finally got around to watching Monday’s episode of DTWS online, I melted again.

He danced with his partners to Babyface’s For The Cool In You. Everything I loved about the 90s was personified on my computer screen. And what’s more, it was all grown up.

It actually reminded me of one of my favorite things about the husband. He was some random boy I had a crush on when we were kids at the same music conservatory. I didn’t know him then and didn’t care too. I just liked watching the cute boy with the big afro play his saxophone. And now he’s all grown and sexy and everything I might’ve imagined he would be all grown up, if I’d cared to imagine such things as a child.

Jaleel White is all grown up. And I will be so sad if/when he leaves DWTS this season. There’s no Olympic athlete, the football player is just so-so, and there’s not a standout dancer that’s got enough fans prior to the start of the season to be ahead with no chance of catchup. That bodes well for his chances. We’ll have to see.

Now, please excuse me while I watch this dance on repeat for the thirtieth time.