i think a waaambulance may be needed

so i found out tonight that former mayor daley has been dating someone for about 6 months. good for him. i'm sure maggie wouldn't want him to spend the rest of his days lonely. a couple of surprising things (well, to me, anyway) about the mayor's new "friend" - she's black (whoa) and she's 30 years his junior.

i'll be 37 in december, which means this young woman is only 4 years older than me. a woman in my demographic (well, age-wise, anyway - this woman's a doctor, for fuck's sake) is dating someone 30 years her senior.

30 years. what the hell?

i always said that my dating age cutoff would be 10 years older than me. any more than that and my "friend" would be close to james' age...or rather james' age if he were still alive (sigh), and that would just freak me out to no end.

even if i were ready to date, which i'm not, as previously discussed here, i'm definitely not ready to date men 30 years older than me. is this what i have to look forward to? dating men who are old enough to be my father? men who are older than my oldest brother? b/c, you know, dating isn't difficult enough as it is, but now i have to theoretically be prepared for old-ass men to try to holla at me? seriously? as much as i joke about wanting a sugar daddy with benefits and a pension plan, i'm not actually trying to date that far above my age bracket. this is bullshit!

and as i came to this (anti-) epiphany, i realized that i was kind of making a big fucking deal (s/o to crazy uncle joe biden) about nothing. hence the waaambulance. i'm sure people in higher socioeconomic brackets date older folks all the time and it's not a big thing for them. hell, a lot of y'all have dated and/or married people who are older than you, but not by 30 years, dammit. that's just crazy and why does it have to be this way and...sorry. that's why the waaambulance is here.

stories from work, part who the hell knows b/c i haven't been keeping track

story 1:

i get a phone call from a patron who says they'd paid some fines within the past week and need a refund. i explain that those requests need to be handled in person by a manager or supervisor, i give them the name of that day's supervisor and how long they'll be around, and the patron hangs up.

later in my shift, my co-worker gets a call from this same patron, who explains that they've paid ~$20 in fines within the past week and they need a refund. co-worker asks if we were in error somehow - did we charge them for a lost item that was actually on the shelf, or did they return an item that they'd previously paid for, etc. no, says the patron, the fines were accurate. they just need the money back b/c they're short on cash and so if we could just refund the money on their card, they'll pay us back later.

co-worker asks for clarification/confirmation that the patron did indeed ask for a refund b/c they're a little light in the wallet, tells them that no, we can't do that, and gives them the name of the supervisor who'll be in the next day b/c this patron is not taking no for an answer, apparently.

i check in with a different co-worker and find out that the patron called twice and that day's supervisor confirmed that no, we couldn't give them back their money w/o a valid reason.

yet another co-worker compared it to going to a restaurant, ordering and enjoying a lovely meal, and then telling the waiter that you're short on cash and you'll pay them later. i said it'd be like calling your phone company and telling them you need a partial refund on the bill you've already paid for that month, but that you'll totally give them their money back later. we all agreed it'd be like paying a friend back the money you'd borrowed from them, and then asking for some of it back that same week.

this is particularly entertaining to me b/c i'm also light on cash this week (seriously, payday can't get here soon enough even though most of my check's already earmarked for various expenses), but i wouldn't think of calling verizon and asking for some of my cell phone bill money back.

story 2:

a couple comes up to the desk with their young child. they tell my co-worker that it's their first time, and we're both thinking they're going to ask about setting up new accounts. nope.

"so...we've heard this is a popular place. why do people like coming here so much?"

co-worker explains that we have a variety of programs for children, and a whole children's section including a play area, and, you know, books and stuff. the couple is then directed to the children's area so they can check it out for themselves and ask any of the children's librarians questions.

the couple heads over, completely unimpressed. we keep an eye on them and they spend less than 5 minutes in the children's section before leaving. we then collapse laughing b/c the tone of their question was so absurd. we don't work in a trendy nightclub or a popular restaurant. it's a library. it's popular b/c people like to check out books and movies and cds and audiobooks. they like using the computers. yeah, it's weird that people actually wait outside for the building to open first thing (i've seen it countless times now and it's never not amazing to me), but i've given up on trying to figure that out.

i think the next time i go to a fast-food restaurant, i'm gonna ask a similar question and see what happens.

both of these stories happened within the past 48 hours, btw. i couldn't make this stuff up if i wanted to.

oh, and speaking of stories - remember frank and ethel? i saw ethel the other day for the first time in what felt like forever. she and frank are both doing well.

recipe review: pork ribs hunters-style

i went grocery shopping late last week and there were country-style pork ribs on sale, so i bought some thinking that i'd throw them in the slow cooker. then i looked at my calendar and realized that my weekend schedule wasn't really conducive to making dinner, so i waited until today.

in the meantime, i went through my hundreds of recipes b/c i felt like trying something new. not that the bbq ribs i tend to make in the crock-pot aren't nomtastic, but, y'know, these recipes aren't going to test themselves.

then i stumbled on this recipe that i'd saved from a cookbook i'd read a while back. never mind that i had to make a separate trip to the store for some of the key ingredients, b/c of course i couldn't plan ahead enough to find the recipe and update my shopping list accordingly. ugh. i used to be good about that kind of thing and i've fallen the fuck off. gotta do better.

anyway...i made it for dinner tonight and it didn't suck. i used one large yellow onion instead of 2 medium ones, tomato sauce instead of tomato puree b/c no way was i going to buy a whole 28oz can of tomato puree when i only needed a cup, 4 tablespoons of garlic paste b/c i tend not to measure garlic, italian seasoning instead of herbes de provence, and cinnamon instead of allspice b/c i realized this morning during my prep that there wasn't any on hand and so i had to ask the internet for a substitute. oh, and i skipped the parsley. everything else was pretty much according to the recipe. i was gone for a good chunk of the afternoon and therefore wasn't able to check on things until the 8 hours were pretty much done. i'm sure i could've stopped the cooking at about 7-7.5 hours and been fine, but such is life.

the "aaron sorkin" theory of television viewing

that clip from "the newsroom" i posted last night reminded me of a conversation i had with j while i was still living "up north." we'd both gotten hooked on the show and we both appreciated "the west wing," which naturally led into a discussion of aaron sorkin's genius or relative lack thereof. j mentioned that he started watching "psych" because of dulé hill, who'd previously been on "the west wing." my initial attraction to "parenthood" wasn't just b/c of the movie, but b/c of peter krause (a "sports night" alum) and lauren graham. yes, i know "gilmore girls" wasn't an aaron sorkin production, but it led to my theory that if an actor who was previously on a show you loved, you're likely to watch their new show, and that show will probably become a new favorite for you. the aaron sorkin connection that j & i figured out is that if an actor was previously on an aaron sorkin show, you're likely to watch them in just about anything within reason.

here's a few examples:

lauren graham: gilmore girls to parenthood
josh charles: sports night to the good wife
peter krause: sports night to parenthood
joshua malina: sports night to scandal

one exception to the rule: felicity huffman. loved her in "sports night" but i just could not get into "desperate housewives."

i'm sure i'm missing some connections, but i'm still kinda out of it from last night's emotional regurgitation. yeah, that's it. :P

sometimes i need to revisit shit while hashing out shit & other shit b/c apparently i really felt like saying shit in this title

from a post last fall:

"i am grateful and confused and a bit bitter and a bit lonely and i hope y'all understand how much it costs for me to type that out and have it on public display. i'm not taking it back, either. sometimes i get sick and tired of holding all of my pieces together b/c i can't trust myself to let them fall b/c i don't know who's going to be there to catch and reassemble them. sometimes i get really fucking angry even when i'm attempting to have an attitude of gratitude and then i get pissed at myself for being upset. sometimes i will have a mini-breakdown in public b/c a certain song will come up on my ipod that reminds me of daddy, or of james, or of 1st c., or of some other happier times and those times are long gone and i can't see any additional happy times coming, which is totally unfair to the beloved friends i've gathered around me b/c y'all have provided endless moments of hilarity and happiness and it's one of the 5011 reasons why i love y'all. sometimes i'm scared of what's next. i'm scared of not knowing what's next. scared of not being able to handle what's next. it's like i have control over so very little in my life right now and i am terrified of ceding that control b/c i don't know what's going to happen. i don't like that feeling. i don't like feeling like i can't tell someone how i really feel b/c i don't want to lose whatever goodwill we have right now. i don't even like putting that last sentence out there, but i'm not taking that one back, either. not right now, anyway."

holy hell does all of that still ring true months later, especially the part about getting sick and tired of holding all of my pieces together b/c i can't trust myself to let them fall. that might be some of the realest  shit i've ever written publicly.

and here's some more real shit (and honestly, it's ok if you close this window if you don't wanna journey down whatever meandering path my emotions are leading me on right now) - i am really sick and tired of holding all of my pieces together b/c i can't trust myself to let them fall b/c no one will be there to catch them.

let me be clear. this is not saying that none of you would help me reassemble my life. hell, my life wouldn't be in the relatively good shape it's in right now if some of y'all hadn't stepped up when i really needed you. i love you guys forever for that, and i hope that's not ringing on deaf ears. i hope i'm not sounding ungrateful, b/c i really am thankful for all of you.

but that's not what i mean when i say that no one will be there to catch my pieces if i let them fall. you know how certain single people will reassure their friends and themselves when they say something like "i'm alone but not lonely?" fuck that shit, yo. i'm not entirely convinced those people have ever had a meaningful romantic relationship, and if they have, they need to write all of the relationship books and make the rest of us read them so we can learn how to cope with loneliness, b/c let me tell you, it's a bitch and a half sometimes.

people ask me why i'm not dating yet and i just have to crack up laughing. look at me, people. i'm a soon to be 37 y.o. broke as fuck woman who's currently typing this from her friends' guest room b/c i still can't afford a place of my own b/c i haven't landed a full-time job yet. the fuck do i look like trying to date someone right now? the hell am i bringing to the table? my looks and personality can only go so far. i want to be able to ditch a bad date and be able to pay my way home w/o worrying about busting my budget. i'd like to have the option of entertaining a gentleman caller in my own abode, thank you very much. why on god's green earth would i even consider dating right now?

and yet my heart sometimes overrules my logic, and that's where the loneliness comes in. being the relationship veteran that i am, i know how wonderfully amazing it can be to be in love and feel like you have a partner who has your back. i kinda miss that. i miss having that one special person. will it happen again for me? i hope so. maybe not in the matrimonial sense, but we know what happened the last time i made any sort of public vows and therefore i'm not gonna tempt fate.

have i said too much? i've probably said too much and now some of you will be looking at me with pity and i might have to punch you in the face b/c the last thing i want or need from anyone is pity. fuck your pity. your pity can go have all the seats. pretend i'm godzilla in this comic and your pity is one of those japanese hornets. do not want.

slightly back on topic - loneliness is real, particularly when you're dealing with a metric fuck-ton of shit that you'd rather not burden your friends with. instead, you deal with the aforementioned metric fuck-ton of shit the best way you know how, and sometimes you're successful, and sometimes you break down, and you have to be ok with it. you have to be ok with picking up the pieces yourself b/c you have no idea if/when someone else is going to come along holding a dustpan so you can sweep everything up. this is what i tell myself, anyway. would it be nice to have someone helping to pick up the pieces of my life? absolutely. not very high on my priority list at the moment, though. doesn't mean i can't give voice to it occasionally.

and now i will leave you with one of my favorite scenes from the first season of "the newsroom" b/c the voices in my head have deemed it appropriate to do so. g'night.

"what shall i tell my children who are black?"

one of the advantages of having been selected on a regular basis to read and/or recite things for church/school programs back in the day is that i still have certain poetic fragments floating around in my brain. this particular one has been floating around in my brain for the past few 12 hours or so, and since i'm unable to articulate an actual post about how i'm feeling at the moment, i will leave this poem here for y'all.

What Shall I Tell My Children Who Are Black?
by Margaret Burroughs

What shall I tell my children who are black
Of what it means to be a captive in this dark skin?
What shall I tell my dear one, fruit of my womb,
of how beautiful they are when everywhere they turn
they are faced with abhorrence of everything that is black.
The night is black and so is the boogyman.
Villains are black with black hearts.
A black cow gives no milk. A black hen lays no eggs.
Storm clouds, black, black is evil
and evil is black and devil's food is black...

What shall I tell my dear ones raised in a white world
A place where white has been made to represent
all that is good and pure and fine and decent,
where clouds are white and dolls, and heaven
surely is a white, white place with angels
robed in white, and cotton candy and ice cream
and milk and ruffled Sunday dresses
and dream houses and long sleek cadilacs
and Angel's food is white... all, all... white.

What can I say therefore, when my child
Comes home in tears because a playmate
Has called him black, big lipped, flatnosed and nappy headed?
What will he think when I dry his tears and whisper,
"Yes, that's true. But no less beautiful and dear."
How shall I lift up his head, get him to square
his shoulders, look his adversaries in the eye,
confident in the knowledge of his worth.
Serene under his sable skin and proud of his own beauty?

What can I do to give him strength
That he may come through life's adversities
As a whole human being unwarped and human in a world
Of biased laws and inhuman practices, that he might
Survive. And survive he must! For who knows?
Perhaps this black child here bears the genius
To discover the cure for... cancer
Or to chart the course for exploration of the universe.
So, he must survive for the the good of all humanity.

He must and will survive.
I have drunk deeply of late from the fountain
of my black culture, sat at the knee of and learned
from mother Africa, discovered the truth of my heritage.
The truth, so often obscured and omitted.
And I find I have much to say to my black children.
I will lift up their heads in proud blackness
with the story of their fathers and their father's fathers.
And I shall take them into a way back time
of kings and queens who ruled the Nile,
and measured the stars and discovered the laws of mathematics.
I will tell them of a black people upon whose backs have been built the wealth of three continents.
I will tell him this and more.
And knowledge of his heritage shall be his weapon and his armor;
It will make him strong enough to win any battle he may face.
And since this story is so often obscured,
I must sacrifice to find it for my children,
even as I sacrifice to feed, clothe and shelter them.
So this I will do for them if I love them.
None will do it for me.

I must find the truth of heritage for myself and pass it on to them.
In years to come, I believe because I have armed them with the truth,
my children and their children's children will venerate me.
For it is the truth that will make us free!

this was my theme song for most of the day yesterday

so i figured i might as well post it in lieu of actual content.

on: grief and timetables

i was hanging out with some friends one night and the conversation turned to kanye west's latest release. there was a definite divide at the table of people who'd listened to the album and enjoyed it, and people who thought it was all bullshit. (this is where i point out that i have not listened to said release and therefore i have no opinion about its artistic merits or lack thereof. kthx.)

as we kept talking, someone who thought the album was bullshit mentioned that since kanye's mom has been dead for 5-6 years now, it's time for him to snap out of his mourning and go back to putting out music that people actually want to listen to, like his first few albums. someone else at the table pointed out that kanye is obviously still missing his mother and may be working through his issues via his artistic output, and that's where we veered off into a discussion of grief and how long it should take someone to get over a death.

you guys know i couldn't sit on the sidelines of this topic, and therefore you won't be surprised to learn that i jumped in at some point and said that there's no statute of limitations on grief. i mean, i should know, right?

and it's true. one of the very first things i tell friends who've lost a loved one is that anyone who tells them that they have to get all of the mourning out of their system now is full of shit. you mourn and cry and scream and whatever else you feel you need to do whenever the hell you feel like it. obviously the first few weeks after a loved one's passing are rough (believe me, i know, and i hate that i'm kinda the resident expert on it at this point), but there is no magical date on the calendar when you have to "snap out" of grief mode. it doesn't work that way...at least, it doesn't work that way for me and most people i know. if that works for you, then more power to you.

this is particularly resonant with me b/c a friend just lost her father this weekend and i'm sure someone with the best of intentions will tell her to get it all out now. this is where i come in and say don't rush the process. it's hard enough getting through the steps you need to take to say goodbye to your loved one - don't stress yourself out b/c you're not crying enough or you're crying too much. follow your instincts. if one day you want to do all the things and then pass out in a sobbing heap, go for it. if another day you want to stay in bed and eat all of the food and cry all of the tears, do it. don't let anyone tell you how to grieve or set a timetable for your mourning. it's yours. take as long (or as short, as the case may be) as you need. if a well-intentioned person tells you otherwise, have them come talk to me. :-)

america!

fuck yeah! fireworks! fuck yeah! i am actually listening to fireworks going off in the neighborhood as i type b/c i'm not quite ready to sit in the dark with the shades up to watch them. not that i haven't done that before, b/c i totally have, but i'm just not feeling it at the moment.

i got to see all kinds of fireworks in indiana tonight (#thankslaz) and saw numerous displays while riding home. in the midst of watching fireworks while on the expressway, though, i have to say that it was a bit odd not seeing the red line running along the dan ryan. i hadn't been south of downtown since the red line construction project started, so this was the 1st i'd seen of the stations and tracks in various states of repair. it was weird.

at one point on the ride back, i said something about tonight's fireworks being able to temporarily distract me from chicago's flaws and make me fall in love with the city all over again, and that tomorrow we'd go back to worrying about education and murder rates and guns and parking and everything else that sucks around here.

today, though? america. fuck yeah. chicago. fuck yeah. fireworks b/c both my inner 7 y.o. and my inner pyro are having a fucking field day? fuck yeah.

b/c the cup is back in chicago (and there was much rejoicing)

this week has been nothing short of batshit crazy, news-wise. i'm not ready to delve into some of those topics yet, aside from a heartfelt "wtf?" at most of it. maybe i'll scribble something about paula deen or wendy davis or the supreme court or nelson mandela or something else i'm forgetting at the moment when i'm back from milwaukee.

oh, yeah...i'm going to milwaukee this weekend. ll cool j isn't coming to chicago so i will go to milwaukee to see him. yes, my stannery/fangirldom is that real and that serious. i am looking forward to hanging with my friend christina (a fellow fangirl/stan) and acting a complete and utter fool. it's gonna be great.

but that's not what this post is about. this post is about the blackhawks successfully going #pawsup (i still can't believe that was an actual thing) and bringing the stanley cup back to chicago. woo!

remember when the blackhawks won the stanley cup in 2010? i do. i remember it vividly b/c that was also the same night that troy & i tearfully agreed to break up. when it became obvious that the blackhawks could and would make a run for the cup this season, i wanted in. i wanted a championship that i could cry happy tears over.

since the 2010 cup, i've gotten divorced, had to move out of my apartment b/c i was about to be evicted, crashed on various couches and in various guest rooms, spent a year and some change in the burbs, and finally got back to chicago in april of this year, albeit not on the terms i wanted. so, yeah. i definitely wanted something to celebrate.

i've been at my part-time gig for a year. i'm in chicago. it's summer. i was ready to celebrate.

i'd done my part during the stanley cup final, too. i watched game 1 at a bar and drank way too much whiskey b/c triple-overtime. game 2 i watched at home and earned a migraine along with the loss. game 3? at home. we lost. this is when i theorized that i had to watch the rest of the series at a bar b/c clearly that was impacting the outcome. and it was. and i did.

i was at a bar for game 6. actually, i was at two different bars, but i left bar a after the 1st period b/c it was full of scenesters and i was ready to punch all of them and flip tables, so i left. bar b? much better. full of fans who were focused on hockey and alcohol and didn't care about being seen or socializing aside from talking about the game or about their drinks. i was happy. i was happier when the blackhawks scored. i remember saying that another goal would be awesome, and a few seconds later, i got my wish. i started crying the aforementioned happy tears b/c the cup was coming back to chicago. my life was going to continue the upswing i'm trying to establish.

i know there's no real correlation b/t the events of the past three years and the blackhawks welcoming lord stanley's cup back to chicago. i get it. i understand it on a cerebral level. but sometimes, i need a little something extra to hold on to, to keep me going when i'm ready to go into "fuck everything" mode and give up.

this month's something extra? the blackhawks. thanks for not letting me down, guys. thank you for invoking all of the happy tears. a replay of game 6 is on even as i type this and i'm ready to scream with joy all over again. thanks for reminding me that i love chicago and there's nowhere else i'd rather be, even with all of its faults.

will the upswing i'm hoping for in my personal life be forthcoming? i don't know. i can only hope. until then, i'm gonna keep doing the work and making sure i'm as ready as i can be for whatever's next.

things i do at 5am on a monday (a partial list)

• stretch out in bed (or, in this morning's case, on the couch) and figure out how/why i'm wide awake at 4:45am on my day off
• go to the bathroom
• realize that i'm neither unsober nor sick and therefore there's no real reason to be awake at that insane hour
• do some quick praying/meditation to see if there's a particular lesson god/the universe needs to impart
• swear at god/the universe for feeling the need to teach me a lesson at 5am
• jump on twitter to vent
• decide to attempt to go the fuck back to sleep b/c it's now 5:15 and there's no way i plan on being productive that early
• make up a song

yes, ladies and gentlemen. i found myself making up a song in my cranky and sleep-deprived state. i call it "look at all the fucks i give." i'm actually kinda amazed that i remembered the words, seeing as how the lyrics (such as they are) came to me as i was drifting back to the land of slumber.

"look at all the fucks i give" (set to the tune of "camptown races")

look at all the fucks i give
doo-dah, doo-dah
what an awesome way to live
oh de doo-dah day

i'm all out of fucks
you're shit out of luck
look at all the fucks i give
oh de doo-dah day

(repeat as needed/desired)

happy monday. :-)

on: current wave of emo/nostalgia

i feel like i've been all over the place emotionally this week. it really hit me last night when i realized i'd gone to 3 different grocery stores for things (and still managed to forget something i wanted for tomorrow's dinner, smh) and how i really am my father's child, b/c he used to drive from store to store in search of the best deals. and then this morning, i was making breakfast and had another moment of channeling my father. to say i miss him would be an understatement, obviously. but then it all kinda clicked while i was watching melissa harris-perry and having my breakfast and looking at my twitter feed.

i got a haircut the other day (stay with me, folks, b/c i promise this is relevant) and it's been weirding me out for a couple of reasons. one, my hair hasn't been this short in a while and i'm dying to see how short it'll look when it's in its curly state. two, my timing for this haircut was damn near perfect b/c #summertimechi is upon us and one of the last things i want to deal with is my hair on my neck. it's hard enough being a fat girl in the summer - no need to add to the sweat.

and then the proverbial light bulb came on. the last time i can remember having my hair this short is the summer of 1998. i got it cut especially for graduation. somewhere i have a picture of me and james standing outside after i'd walked across the stage and my hair was about as short as it is now.

y'all. northwestern's commencement weekend is happening even as i type. it's been 15 years since graduation. i had an impromptu hangout with a fellow alum (and former football player) earlier this week and someone asked how long we'd known each other. we both started laughing as we said "19 years" and then realized, holy shit, we're old. i also thought that if we partied that hard on a tuesday night, there's no way my liver is going to survive homecoming. i'll have fun trying, though.

my father has been dead for 16 years. one of my regrets, and i admit it's a pointless regret to have b/c there's jack shit i could've done about it, is that daddy didn't get to see me walk across the stage and receive my northwestern degree. we both worked hard for it. after he died, james and i continued working hard so i could actually stay at northwestern b/c it was looking kinda impossible for a second there, but we did it. daddy and james and i did it and to this day, i hate that daddy wasn't there in person to see it. i also hate that i can't call james and tease him about being old, but that's a different story.

i'm looking forward to homecoming this fall for a lot of reasons. i just wish the two family members who helped me get through northwestern in the 1st place were around to indulge in this nostalgia with me.

(some of) the reasons why i fucks with sjb

omg you guys. today is softjunebreeze's birthday. she just happens to share a birthday with prince. i'm kinda hoping the faux prince account on twitter will wish her a happy birthday, b/c that would be awesome. it'd also be awesome if any of the real and/or fake joe biden accounts wished her a happy birthday. you'd think i'd have more pull with crazy uncle joe by now, given my ongoing desire for him to come to chicago so we can have all of the liquor and party hard andrew w.k. style, but no.

so, instead, i am writing a post in honor of sjb's birthday while i'm slightly unsober. b/c sjb would be like "fuck yeah!" b/c she's one of my key partners in shenanigans and fuckery and other decisions that may or may not be considered bad/poor in hindsight, but sound like "winnar!" at the time.

b/c sjb's one of the people who offered me their futon when i was couch-surfing (and not in the fun "vacation all i ever wanted" kind of way) back in 2011. b/c when i got ready to leave sjb's place and head over to my bff's house for the next portion of my couch-surfing, sjb was all "dude, take this cash so you can cab it from here to the metra station w/o having to worry about lugging that big-ass suitcase on the cta." i'm sure i thanked her at the time, but i'm not sure she knows how much that meant in real life. it meant a lot.

and did i ever tell y'all about the time sjb broke my brain when she said that mj's "billie jean" and cee-lo's "bright lights bigger city" were sorta kinda the same damn song? seriously. check it out for yourselves:

"billie jean"


"bright lights bigger city"


mind you, i may or may not have been unsober when she first told me about this, kinda like how i may or may not be unsober while i'm writing this post, but still.

oh, and if you've ever seen/heard me reference #leyomitwirl, it's b/c of sjb. she's the one who first showed me this classic:


i'm sure there's all kinds of youtube/other internet-based goodness that sjb put me on to that i'm forgetting, but, y'know, unsober. besides, i don't wanna totally embarass her. that would be rude.

y'know what's not rude, though? closing this post with this song that borrows from prince's "let's go crazy." i mean, it is also prince's birthday, so i might as well give him a shoutout, right? right.

so long, smash, the show we loved to hate

i know someone who auditioned for a minor role on smash back when it was "hey spielberg's about to do this tv show about broadway!" unfortunately, the timing didn't work out and this someone had to miss out on two seasons of compellingly crazy television.

that's really the best way to describe smash, i think. compellingly crazy. my friend kdc has written about the rise and fall and our (somewhat) good-natured hatred of smash in a more articulate way than i'm able to at the moment.

i remember talking to the aforementioned someone during the 1st season after the ridiculous church scene (not to be confused with the ridiculous bollywood scene, because oh yeah that shit fucking happened) and telling them that i was glad the universe had decided that they couldn't be a part of this clusterfuck b/c omg what a clusterfuck.

i watched the series finale earlier this afternoon, which was obviously filmed as a season finale before the show's cancellation. so entertainingly awful.

and speaking of entertainingly awful - this rendition of "under pressure" from the finale has kept me laughing for, i don't know, at least 2 hours.

inspirational cough drops; or why halls needs to stfu and let me be sick

i'm (hopefully) in the last stages of the plague a cough/cold that's been tormenting me. as part of my recovery, i've been using halls cough drops.

did you know that halls has started printing little slogans on the wrappers of their cough drops? the tag line is "a pep talk in every drop." that's actually the first thing i have an issue with. i don't want a pep talk when i'm taking a cough drop. i want all of the honey-lemon flavored mentholated goodness to soothe my throat and put an end, albeit temporary, to my coughing fit(s). that's it. i don't think i'm asking for too much here.

but no. halls wants to cheer my cold/cough on with witticisms such as these (and yes i saved a few wrappers so i could have some semblance of variety on this list):

• "don't give up on yourself." (ok, well, i suppose that's solid advice regardless of health status.)
• "tough is your middle name." (no, it's not. especially not when i'm sick. fuck you, halls.)
• "dust off and get up." (again, solid advice when i'm not sick, but right now? fuck you, halls.)
• "get through it." (well, i'm trying, hence the unwrapping and consumption of the cough drop.)
• "buckle down and push forth!" (fuck you, halls.)
• "push on!" (no, really, fuck you, halls.)
• "the show must go on. or work." (i am definitely guilty of donning my superwoman cape even when i'm not feeling 100%, but really, halls? fuck you.)
• "don't try harder. do harder!" (first of all, giggity. second of all, fuck you, halls.)

and, my all-time favorite most despised "pep talk" from halls:

• "let's hear your battle cry!"

dear halls: ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS WITH THIS ONE? if i was capable of emitting a battle cry that didn't sound something like "omg everything hurts i can haz couch nao kthxbai," i wouldn't need the damn cough drop in the first place! i'd be able to wrest myself from couch or bed and punch you in the face for making such an asinine suggestion. fuck you, halls.

y'know what, though? i'm gonna keep taking halls b/c i still have another unopened bag and on some level, these pep talks are amusing to me. i still like the messages on my dove promises wrappers more, though. mmm...inspirational chocolate...

something something end of an era something something

i'm sure some, if not most, of y'all have heard about the school closings in chicago. what you don't know is that the 2 cps elementary schools i attended way back in the day are on that list. i knew that one of my alma maters (can an elementary school be referred to as an alma mater? it seems a bit weird, but whatever) was on the list, but i wasn't aware of the 2nd one until this afternoon when i revisited the full list.

so, farewell, dumas and pershing. dumas is where, if the administration had gotten its way, i would've skipped from kindergarten to 2nd grade. my mother won that battle, such as it was, and instead i skipped kindergarten and went to 1st grade. dumas is also where i drove teachers crazy with my "cursive" writing (read: adding tails to all of my letters). in first grade, we would sing "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" every morning. i still can't spell it, but i think i still remember most of the lyrics. i have no idea why our teacher thought singing a song from "mary poppins" was a vital part of our education, but that's neither here nor there.

my mother was already sick by the time i transferred to pershing in 2nd grade. i remember for certain assignments, we had to write our school's full name at the top of our papers. do you know how hard it was to squeeze my name and "john j. pershing magnet school for the humanities," plus whatever other heading details, in that upper right-hand corner of notebook paper? it was hard.

my 2nd grade teacher (mrs. kloak, if memory serves correctly) wrote me a special note when i came back to school after my mother died. at the end of the year, she wrote notes for all of us and i think mine is still in my scrapbook. i also remember some kids talking about my mother's death and saying that she had cancer. i was adamant in defending her from that, somehow, and saying that she'd died of a heart attack, which is what i was told.

i was in high school by the time daddy told me the truth, that my mother had been diagnosed with cancer. i think we were on a road trip - maybe to st. louis to visit my grandmother? who knows? all i know is that i looked at him that day like he was an alien. maybe everyone thought a 7 y.o. was too young to know about cancer? who knows? longtime readers/friends know that my family is nothing if not dysfunctional, so this was par for the course.

so, yeah. my parents are gone and the cps schools i went to are gone and something something end of an era something something.

oh, and fuck cancer, btw.

Money train: Metra stops and income levels

i was catching up on news/headlines before i call it a night and saw this interactive graphic from the folks at crain's chicago business: Money train: Metra stops and income levels

(note: you might need a log-in or some sort of workaround if you're not already registered on their site.)

i thought it was an interesting take on income patterns throughout the region. admittedly i didn't spend that much time clicking around the map b/c i'm sleepy, but i thought y'all (esp. the ones who don't follow my twitter feed where this link has also been posted) would dig it.

and on that note, g'night.

moar fun with teh interwebz, part 85 bazillion

i swear i have at least 4 blog topics waiting to be tackled, but seeing as how i just spent the morning organizing files and paying bills and prepping for a phone interview, i figured i'd just throw this up here:

that's right, folks. the star of one of my favorite tv shows retweeted me on thursday night. it's not the first time a celebrity has replied to or retweeted me. hell, it's not even the first time kerry washington has acknowledged my twitter presence. i mean, the 1st time ll cool j interacted with me on twitter, i was pretty much in the clouds for the rest of the day. this particular one is entertaining to me, though, b/c kerry was live-tweeting "scandal" right along with the show's fans. one of my friends tweeted me saying "omg kw retweeted you," or something along those lines, and i was all "omg i know! squee!"

now i just have to convince crazy uncle joe to take me up on my numerous invitations to come hang out in chicago so we can go party. :-)

this concludes your fangirl moment for the day. have a great weekend!

recipe review: baked potatoes with sausage & arugula sauce

so i was talking to k last night about the surplus of potatoes currently in the kitchen, and i might have joked about finding something to do with them that didn't involve turning all of them into mashed potatoes. not that i'm against mashed potatoes, mind you. i love mashed potatoes. mashed potatoes are proof that god loves me & wants me to be happy and fat.

but i digress just a bit. i decided to check my recipe folder on my computer for recipes that involved potatoes. don't ask me how many results came up, though. it's almost embarrassing.

this recipe, though, seemed like a winner. my usual rule of thumb is that if i like all of the ingredients in a recipe, then i will probably like the finished product. i was right with this one.

here are my changes/substitutions: i used mild italian sausage - pork, not turkey, b/c that's what was available at the meat counter when i went to the store. i used a bag of a spinach and arugula blend instead of all arugula or all spinach. regular readers know that i rarely measure garlic, and this was no exception since i was working with pre-minced garlic. let's say i used, oh, i don't know, a tablespoon or so? something like that? yeah. oh, and i bought shredded parmesan cheese instead of grated b/c i only wrote "parmesan cheese" on my shopping list and didn't realize my error until i was about to start cooking. oh, and i skipped the parsley. tomato-basil sauce and not marinara. the end.

i am SO making this again. i would put this sauce on top of some garlic bread and be a happy girl. 

i should note, though, that the 5 y.o. was not a fan of this, primarily b/c they're not a spinach fan. more for the rest of us.

also, y'know how sometimes a recipe says it serves 4 and you call bullshit afterward b/c it serves way more or way less than that in real life? this one actually yields 4 servings. period. no leftovers. still nom, though.

b/c i think we could all use a little levity right about now

and yes, this is another one of my "o hai here's a video b/c i can't manage to produce actual content right now" posts. i will hopefully catch up on writing within the next week or so, assuming that the world stops being fucking insane. until then, though, i give you crazy uncle joe earning my undying love and affection all over again, with the proverbial tip of the hat to sjb for the link: