Thursday, June 30, 2011

She had her pups!

Holy schnikeys it's hot outside. Thank God for all of the car temperature photo uploads on Facebook or I might not have realized just how hot it really is! I don't know why it's so thrilling to see triple digits on a temp but it is, I get jollies off it every time. It's almost comparable to reading the date 12/25 on my phone. Speaking of, Christmas is less than six months away! I am already way excited.

Well last night was a pretty intense night. Izzy went into labor around 3:45 a.m. in my bed. Since I'm extremely uncomfortable with anything birth related I sprinted her into my parents room. My mom immediately switched into birth coach mode and quickly made up a bed for Izzy in her closet. She ordered me to get a lamp so the lighting would be more "comfortable" and not the bright overhead lights that hang in her closet. I tried to remind my mom that this was a dog having puppies and not a Duggar or Tom Cruise but she was too busy already coaching Izzy with her breathing techniques. I kid you not, my mom was timing Izzy's contractions and saying things like,

"C'mon Izzy, you can do this! Just breathe and push. You can do this. Keep pushing! I had three, you're only having two, you can do this! Good Izzy!"

I jokingly asked if I should get ice chips. My mom seriously thought about this and said,

"Um, maybe? No, let's just get her some water. Go down and get her water, and make sure it's cold."

Do they have Lamaze classes for dogs?Because I'm thinking my mom was definitely taking some classes. She continued to encourage Izz even as the contractions got worse and Izzy transformed into a pregnant bitch, both figuratively and literally.

Mom: "C'mon Izzy, doing great!"

Izzy: "Grrrrrrr! Growlllll! You skank ass human how dare you do this to me! I had no idea that "play date" would lead to this! Grrrrrrr! Snarl!"

This went on for at least an hour. The birthing was not nearly as easy as they portrayed it on 101 Dalmatians. And the more I think about it, I really question whether that movie was true or not. Izzy could barely have two, I highly doubt any dog could have over 100 without the aid of fertilization shots or Envitro. And in that case those are some sick owners who would knowingly do that to their pets. Bullshit they didn't know what Cruella had planned. That's a puppy mill at it's finest. But back to Izzy, her first puppy began making its way down the birth canal around 6:45 a.m. I didn't stick around to watch the actual process. It was just too much for me, the tiny labor scene clip from Knocked Up still haunts me to this day. The next pup arrived around roughly 7:30 a.m. I peeked in sometime shortly after when my mom assured me all of the "cleaning up" had been finished, by Izzy not my mom I mean. Let's just say she won't be hungry for a week, again I mean Izzy. So the puppies didn't really look like puppies at first, I'd say more comparable to black Vienna sausages. They were so tiny, and slimy looking. Looked like something you'd eat at an Indian restaurant or on a McDonalds breakfast sandwich. But within just a few hours the puppies were already looking so much better. They're dark black with tiny little brown Yorkie features on their faces and paws. Izzy weighs 4 lbs, and the father only 5 lbs, so these are going to be teeny tiny little pups.

After the excitement of it all I've taken the day to relax by the pool. And since we all know it's so hot outside I can't imagine being anywhere but in the comfort of my parent's back yard. I'll be picking up Chris in a few short hours from the airport to continue the fun at his cabin in Fremont all day tomorrow and tomorrow night. But in the meantime I've got a few errands to run because Chris prefers that whenver I pick him up from the airport I not only go inside, but he also likes it if I'm waiting at the terminal with balloons and flowers. I'm dating a pretty special guy.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Big Bang Shroom 2011

And another successful CWS comes to a close. I take pride in having an event like the College World Series in Omaha because I think it's nice for other people across the country to see that Nebraska isn't all farm land and cows. Especially right now as most people flew into Eppley I bet they were quite surprised to see we have a gorgeous new blue lake that covers most green space and even houses, as well. What Omaha won't do to impress CWS fans.

Although I was only able to be in the CWS commotion for one night I certainly did enjoy myself. We hit up the new hot spots like "The Matt" and "Goodnights" and my dad almost stumbled into "Capitol" but I quickly warned him to get back. Having left my blonde extensions and clip-in hair feather at home I was in no position to be at such a Ke$ha happening spot.I was also disappointed to see that Farrah wasn't working at Goodnights, she must have been home with Sophia. The Matt was fun, but I'm still uncomfortable with this nickname, Mattress Factory is just as easy to say. I didn't see a lot of the small town jersey wearing thugs that had began penetrating Paulis in the last few years so that was nice. And by God whether Nebraska was playing or not our fans made sure to show up in their colors. You can never go wrong with Husker gear, no sir you can't. I did find it rather appalling how many young girls I saw walking around with the "I love Cocks" shirts. Too much. Let's put those shirts on the do not wear list right next to Coed Naked and Playboy attire. You're a whore, we get it. Yes, I'm being frank, but I can't help it, this is Nebraska and we don't tolerate filth like that. Walk across the walking bridge for those types of shenanigans.

Speaking of clothing, am I the only one who would like to know why baseball coaches wear the same uniform as their players? What's goin on here, I don't think this happens in any other sport. What if Doc Sadler wore a baggy basketball jersey and high tops to every game? I bet he would like that, and the officials would probably take his tantrums must more seriousy. Why don't wrestling coaches wear singlets? Better question, why do Nebraska wrestlers take naked photos of themselves for gay porn sites? I guess these are just some things we'll just never know, but I can't help but wonder.

We are less than two days away from one of the best American holidays of the year! Oh boy, I am excited! Not only is it Harlow's first 4th of July but it's Knox's too! And so far so good with both of them, neither get bothered by the loud fireworks at all. I was nervous to see if Har, like most dogs, had a past life as a solider that still haunted him. Our poor Doberman, Jagz, camps out in my parents bathroom this whole week in fear of the loud booms. I don't know what he experienced in war but it must have been bad. We can barely coax him outside long enough to relieve himself, and even them he's constantly looking over his shoulder for someone to drop a grenade on him. Saturday night, Norfolk's annual Big Bang Boom celebration, will be a hard night for him. Also cleverly titled the Big Bang Shroom, depending on who you're talking to. We owe so many thanks to the Bob Marley listening high school kids in Norfolk for great community things like our run down skate park, the Big Bang Shroom, our always struggling boys soccer team, and really those are the only three things I can think of? Fireworks and hallucinogens, how original. Had I drank in high school more than ten times I would have played drinking games on this night taking a pull every time someone said words like "trippy" "sick" and "knarley." Who needs drugs when you have all of the worlds best finger foods right at your, well, finger tips. Pinwheels and pickle roll ups and bean dip and pulled any-kind-of-meat sandwiches! I've got too much food to eat this weekend to worry about dilated pupils or huge penguins.

Monday, June 27, 2011

I now pronounce you... drunk.

And so we lost yet another Theta to the wonderful world of matrimony. Little Carrie Schiefelbein became little Carrie Bergan. At least I know how to spell Bergan, Schiefelbein is the trickiest last name ever. It was a wonderful Saturday evening wedding. Beforehand, Kim, Tyeler and I got ready at Kim's new second floor apartment. It was so great to reunite with my old sorority sisters! To think how much we've all changed since college, Tye is a wife with a busy new career in Jacksonville, Kim is a very mature and well behaved 4th grade teacher and I'm basically unemployed. We're all growing up. Like the cute sorority sisters we are, Tye curled my hair, Kim did Tye's makeup and I scratched Kim's back... Nine times out of nine that statement would be complete bullshit, but it's 100% true this one time. We might be the three most unlikely girls of our friends to partake in such a bonding moment, but it did happen. Except for the back scratching, I did it for a second but Kim shrieked because it was probably the first time I've touched her, same with Tyeler. Kim's a hugger and a spooner (Nebbia) but Tye and I refrain from this type of embracement, it's just who we are but that doesn't make us bad people. But after we exchanged our magical traveling pants and played Sex and the City (Kim said I had to be Miranda as usual because I'm "cynical") the three of us best friends headed to the ceremony, after a quick stop at Barreymores. I'm still wondering how Carrie pulled off a 6:00 p.m. wedding, I thought all Saturday catholic weddings had to be before 2:00 p.m.? Mitch must have been an altar boy at some point in his life and felt the priest owed him a favor for one reason or another... The reception was held at the Embassy immediately after. I have so much fun at my friends' weddings that I wouldn't be totally upset if at least half of them got divorced and remarried in five years so I can experience the fun all over again. I know that's selfish of me to hope for but I can't help it, open bars, free cake, and awkward wedding dancing is my idea of a good time. And what's more entertaining than wedding speeches? My favorite are the maid of honor speeches that usually go something like this, "I've known Sara for 12 years and we've been best, best friends ever since (cue to look at other BM's to let them know she's #1 friend and ALWAYS will be) and we did this once and we did that once and then we laughed and then we did this and then we had a sleepover and then we did this and when she met Joe we cried because we knew he's the one and congrats." But of course I knew to expect more from Ashley because she is a MOH extraordinaire and knows how to work a crowd, this ain't her first rodeo. With all the Princess Carrie jokes Ashley had the guests eating the wedding cake out of the palm of her hand. And touché to the man of honor, Jake, as well. He followed what Kim likes to call the "joke joke cry" speech formula, it's a guaranteed crowd pleaser. After two comical stories the crowd never expects to get hit with a sentimental one, gets 'em every time.

As the reception came to a close we decided we might as well continue the party downtown, why not we'd only probably had about 13 glasses of free wine what's a few more? Kim and I must have been an interesting sight to see stumbling toward the bars in our fancy dresses and heels, wedges for Kim. En route to the bar we got in a fight with a gang of African American ten year olds. I don't remember too much what it was about, but I recall telling them Kim was a teacher possibly even a Principal and could get them in trouble, and I called them "lame" for having nothing better to do than sit on O street... I hope they took all of my words very seriously. Losers. Our drunk train with only two passengers rolled into the Rail with a burst of loudness and cloud of alcohol and were greeted by... no one. I forgot that summer Lincoln isn't the most happening place to be. We didn't stay long before heading to the Bar. Earlier in the day Kim had proudly showed me pics of her fellow coworker at The Bar in Playboy as "Barmate of the month." So I'm slightly worried I made comments in reference to this toward said coworker when I saw her working, I can only hope they were polite and complimentary comments because it was truly a very classy photo, the type you could show Grandpa without blushing...

Kenz found me at the Bar and after just a little convincing from her we decided it was Lazzaris time. Kenz lives in "Nola" which apparently means New Orleans. I think people in that region have trouble with pronunciation and big words, Bobbi Bouche anyone? I imagine she doesn't get to eat pizza too often because in Nola they only eat things like fried frog legs and jambalaya so of course I was excited to eat Lazzaris with her. Spicy Chicken pizza and ranch has never tasted so good, and yet so unfilling. I could have easily taken down five more slices if left alone in there for just a couple more minutes.

As all great nights happen, it seemed to end much faster than it all began. I'm not sure I can wait almost four more months until my next wedding with Sara R-another hard last name and John. At least the weekend approaching is one of the best weekends of the year...

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Back in the Folk

I pulled out of my house at roughly 6:45 a.m., got through Chicago traffic about forty minutes later, and was cruising smoothly on the interstate by 8:00 a.m. I think you can really tell a lot about our country by the drivers you see on our interstates. First of all, everybody is always in a huge hurry, usually willing to cut someone off at any moment to better their position. Like most Americans, truck drivers feel some sort of entitlement to the roads. They are about as greedy and expectant as it gets, expecting you to know that their blinker doesn't mean they want to get over, it means they ARE coming over and you better get the hell out or get run over. And of course there are always those lame ducks on the road who seem to have no idea that driving in the left lane under 55 is as bed as it gets. Every once in a while you'll find that occasional nice driver letting others in which obviously makes you feel guilty and promise yourself you'll be that person next time. And yet no matter how big of a rush the asshole is in front of you or the soccer mom flipping you off to the right because you didn't let her in, there is always enough time to accessorize one's car. What started off simple enough as just personalized license plates and animal print steering wheel covers (Jeni) has expanded into a market all on its own. Bumper stickers became back windshield stickers galore, personalized plates also have personalized borders, and the back dash is a car's shelf giving way to picture frames and Beanie babies. The only thing I want to know is why. Why do you think I'd like to know that Ginny is #6 on the softball team and Mikey Jo is on honor roll and Kara Michelle would rather be shopping, and my personal favorite the Casey Anferny "I'd rather be killing my daughter" sticker. I know more about the mini van I followed all through Ilionois than I do about my extended family members who aren't on Facebook. Keep your personal info on the book where it should be. And side note yoga instructors, a sticker with the downward dog position and the caption "I like doing it doggy" is never appropriate. Children ride on these interstates, cmon people have some class.

I pulled into Norfolk right around 3:40 p.m. To my delight I noticed the blue and white striped tents were already setting up, that means only one thing: firecracker season! If there's one thing Norfolks' are good at it's lighting firecrackers. We may not have oceans or big lakes, but we've got smoke bombs and Roman Candles which sometimes are just as fun. I only hope some day I can raise little hick children like myself who by the age of two are lighting Lady Fingers on the ground, by three lighting Black Cats and throwing them, and by four barely flinching when the occasional artillery happens to pop in their face. I truly pity the city children who have only ever experienced firecrackers from afar, it's no way to live. The Fourth just isn't the Fourth without a firecracker mishap or emergency. Growing up, the 4th of July always transformed my backyard into a mini Vietnam between my dad, brother and drunken uncle Pat and cousin Layne. Outside the safety of my house nowhere was off limits from bombs being thrown and limbs being burnt. Explosions were everywhere, neither side had any idea what they were fighting for or who they were fighting against, and my drunk uncle was always on the look out for an Asian hooker. It was a crazy, messed up time and to this day I still have flashbacks where I wake up sweating and screaming for Lieutenant Dan.

But what I am most excited for is Ricardos tonight, the most inauthentic yet delicious Mexican food Norfolk has to offer. I get uncomfortable just thinking about how much I am going to eat in a few hours. "Mexican full" is a full unlike any other food. It's almost like you can feel your Caucasian insides wrenching and squirming from all of the unfamiliar little cholos of grease and spice thugging around in their wife beaters and Nike Cortezs' talking shit. I can't wait, it's going to be a battle in my stomach, and the Mexicans always win. O'le! Or in the words of my Spanish workbook Ojo!

Monday, June 20, 2011

Peanuts and Crackerfans

What another great weekend here in Chicago. Chris's dad, Bob, came to town for Father's Day and showed us quite the time. We ate too much food, drank way too much wine and ended it last night at Wrigley Stadium for a little Sunday night baseball. Baseball games are pretty fun, they're very relaxing. I felt quite nostalgic at Wrigley as we all sang Take Me Out to the Ball Game together rocking back and forth eating our cracker jacks and peanuts. It reminded me of my brief softball stint when I was younger. But then that damn Kit had to go and get traded to another team ruining my shot at winning the big game. Back then it truly was a league of our own. Although the only thing I was ever good at was running the bases. I couldn't hit the ball, couldn't throw it further than ten feet, and I was usually too distracted in the outfield doing kart wheels and making grass bracelets to catch the rare fly ball that came my way. It didn't take long for me to figure out that if I was playing outfield as a ten year old that was no good. Everyone knows first base and short stop are the two coolest positions. I was only on the team because my aunt's restaurant "Ricardos" sponsored us and paid for our T- Shirts.

One of the highlight's of the night was when I happened to witness a distracted 15 year old boy accidentally walk into the ladies restroom. I watched in delight as the boy wondered into the bathroom while texting away on his phone not paying any attention. Didn't take him more than a second to hustle out all embarrassed and red faced. Oh the shame of walking into the wrong bathroom, you can only know what I'm talking about if you've done it before (unknowingly.) Purposely peeing in the other bathroom in a gas station or bar is completely different story. I've done it only once, but I'll never forget the humiliation when I walked into the boys bathroom at the Johnny Carson theatre in third grade at an elementary music concert. That shame has left its mark. Of course I didn't see anything, no one ever does, but it doesn't matter. It's a different world in bathrooms. Seeing a man at the sink instead of woman is like seeing the Terminator in their washing his hands. It's terrifying and I don't know why. I guess bathrooms are just shameful places in general if you think about it. It's why people are terrified to go #2 in public, PPP, public pooping phobia. Oh God maybe if I flush enough no one will hear, God forbid anyone know what I'm doing in this stall, it's just far too humiliating if the person next to me knows, and I better make it quick, because there's a line, and I'd hate for the person next to me to know anything, whatever happens they have to think I just peed, so I better do this fast and quiet, in and out, gotta make it quick or I'll just die. And then there's the shame of someone walking in on you, at which point both people typically fumble out apologies at fast as possible for the fear and embarrassment of just seeing a complete stranger in their most vulnerable state. I'm sorry! No, I'm sorry! I didn't know! Me neither! It's fine! It just didn't lock so I was trying to hold it with my knee, didn't you see my foot sticking out? I stuck it out on purpose so people would know it's occupied! Wonder when we all got so modest and got away from the preschool habits of peeing with the door open, or going into a stall two at a time. But enough of that, I could go on about potty stigmas all day.

Back to Saturday night, Chris and I went out on a street that reminded me a lot of downtown Lincoln. Only because everybody was absolutely shitfaced walking around looking for food, girls were squating on the sidewalks crying or texting or looking for more food. It's weird at first going out in a new place with new people, we were the outsiders. For starters we had to stand in line to get in. I'm not a fan of that. And then inside the bartenders would serve the people they knew first, which wasn't us. People were drunkenly dancing and singing in a circle, but I wasn't in that circle. I watched with sad eyes knowing that I was the weird Iquanas patron who stumbled into the Rail. So Chris and I took shots to ease our sadness. We found the people we knew and tried to assimilate ourselves into this new Chicago crowd, which after a couple of drinks and Goldy shots I think we did quite nicely.

I'm still recovering a little bit today. I'm supposed to be heading to Nebraska either Tuesday or Wednesday via car because I'm bringing Harlow back for the fourth of July, but I fear the flooding is standing in my way. I'm not happy about this. Why doesn't the water just go away, I don't get it. Can't someone just Shamwow it or something. Or better yet, why hasn't anyone taken cue from Inspector Gadget already and created the car that turns into a boat with the flip of a switch? By hell or high water I'm gonna find a way.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Ode To My Dad

Happy Father's day! A day probably created by wives who felt guilty for always nagging their husbands. Do I think my dad enjoys this day? Yes, of course. But does he relish in it to the degree that my mom does Mother's Day? Not at all. Unfortunately, I am trapped in Chicago and don't have the novelty of being in Norfolk with my dad to enjoy this day. So I thought it would be fitting to reflect on what I've learned through the years thanks to my dad. While the list is obviously endless I've come up with some of the most important ones:

1. Always hold you car door! This is crucial! If you feel even the slightest ounce of wind, hell even if it's not windy at all just hold the damn door. Rather be safe than sorry. Because the moment you forget to "hold your door!" it will fly off. And it will probably fly into another persons car in which case you will be at fault. I can't stress this one enough. And while we're talking about car doors make sure to never slam the damn door either.

2. For God's sake don't touch the thermostat. There is never a reason good enough that will justify this action. Do you know how much money it costs to heat an old house? It's millions. In the winter put more blankets on the bed, in the summer sleep on the floor. Warm air rises, everybody knows this.

3. If you run a small business never honk or flip someone off in town. Feel free to scream as many obscenities and throw the middle finger below the steering wheel in the safety of your own car, but you can't risk letting the person in the opposing car know your anger. What if they're a client?

4. When in doubt, leave the stadium early. Nobody likes to get caught in the hustle and bustle of the crowd. So always leave a game early. Doesn't matter how close the game is, the end can always be caught on the radio.

5. A bottle of red wine a night is good for the heart. Read the statistics, doctors agree. And like vitamins, the more you drink the better it is for you. And concerning alcohol in general, remember that on vacation there are no rules or "social guidelines" for drinking. A drink is completely acceptable at any time of the day, all day. And a "vacation" classifies any place outside of Norfolk.

6. Never trust a blinker! Do you think the insurance agency will have any sympathy if you tell them you pulled out because the car had their blinker on? Well they won't. NEVER TRUST A BLINKER.

7. Nebraska football coaches are the only style icons worth knowing. Need I say more?

8. Squeeze toothpaste from the bottom of the tube. This isn't difficult, people. There is always more toothpaste at the bottom. Save yourself the agony towards the end and just be consistent with this. It's not a habit, it's a lifestyle.

9. Be weary of "glare ice" in the winter. Don't know what glare ice is? Well it's the worst kind of ice on the roads possible. It's like a mixture of black ice and scary ice and invisible ice. It WILL sneak up on you and it will cause you to lose control.

10. Last, but probably the most important of all- You will always miss 100% of the shots you don't take. Especially if it's the 1975 game against Columbus and you sink a shot from before half court. It happens, we've got the film spool to prove it.

This is just a short list of many life facts I've picked up along the way. I just hope my dad is able to have the kind of Sunday he prefers, perhaps a little golf, a little reading in the living room with his fancy pancy ipod player singing jazz tunes, some good food and a couple of bottles of red wine and in bed by 9:00. Happy Fathers Day.

Friday, June 17, 2011

Casey Anferny

Well it's another Casey Anthony kinda day. Shit, I mean Rebecca Black kinda day. Why on earth did I say Casey Anthony? Must be because that satan lady is everywhere. TV, internet, magazines, everywhere I turn I see her chilling black eyes. It creeps me out. What's her deal? Why doesn't she just kill herself already. Youch that was rude, I haven't wished that on someone since Dawsons Creek. It's true though, Anthony just keeps getting worse and worse. First she said her dad raped her throughout childhood, now she's wanting a paternity test claiming her brother might have been the father of sweet baby Caylee. Alright sorry Anne Boleyn, but neither reasons give you the go ahead to kill your daughter. I can barely read any more about the trial because it makes me so sick. What's wrong with our justice system today that we are carrying this on for so long? Quick facts: 1. Casey partied hardied for a month when her daughter was supposedly "missing." 2. Casey got a tattoo during this month that reads "beautiful life" in Italian, bella vida? Eww cliche Casey. Why don't you just get a Chinese symbol tattoo on your lower back while you're at it... Hey, I was 16 in Vegas. 3. Casey's trunk had the stench of a dead body (insert booty joke here. Oooh no I didn't!) Need I say more though? It's pathetic this is going on. Lock her up. I have no mercy for child killers. Or animal killers. The bible says, thou shall only kill those who can at least stand a chance to fight back. And even then I'm against it. I can't help but think that if Casey Anthony was a man this would be a completely different trial. I don't want to throw race into this, but what if she was a black man even? If her name was Casey Anferny instead, things would have gone quite differently. And that's not right.

And I keep hearing about a scandal I know too little about but am loving the headlines for. The Weiner scandal? Is that for real? From what I've gathered, a congressman by the name of Weiner was caught sexting with a woman who was not his wife. Bfd. I think we should all be proud of someone with the last name of Weiner for making it all the way to Congress, that's pretty damn impressive. Let's do a Tosh.O segment real quick and write as many headlines as we can about this starting... now:

"Hard times ahead for Weiner, softer times to come."
"Weiner takes the backdoor."
"The ball is out of Weiner's court."
"Weiner's dirty deeds leak."
"Weiner says to critics: Scro dem all!"
"Blue times for Weiner."
"Weiner loses his head."
"Weiner apologizes, ashamed of his behavior."
"Weiner looks for comfort in the hands of his family."
"Weiner fails to perform."
"Weiner hoping for any positive sign to come."
"Weiner exposed, forced to leave."
"Weiner steps down."
"Weiner admits his shortcomings."
"Weiner disappoints wife."
"Weiner pleases girlfriend."
"Weiner texts photos of his...Weiner?"

We'll end on that one. That was probably more fun for me than it should have been. I guess I don't have much more to say on this lovely Friday afternoon. I'm definitely ready for the weekend, should be a good one . Happy Fathers day to all the dad's out there, hope you all enjoy the Husker attire and DVDs you receive. So cheers to the weekend, it's way past time for a drink.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

My bitch is having twins!

I found out some big news today via Facebook (shocker.) Anything not on Facebook isn't really news today if you ask me though. I woke up around 11:00 a.m. Let me just say that I'm not a big sleeper-inner. I don't care for it. Sleeping past 9:00 a.m. usually makes me feel worthless. It's not that I'm active in the mornings or anything I just prefer a nice cup of joe, a good bowl or two of cereal and the Today Show. But since moving into our garden level apartment, it feels like its 3:00 a.m. when it's oops already 11:00 a.m. I seriously hate it, but I can't help it. I just always make sure to ask myself "are you sleeping in because it feels good, or because you feel like you have to wind yourself up for the day?" I think monthly self depression exams are as important as monthly self breast exams. So far it's just been because it feels good, I mean the sleeping in part, not the self breast exam. So anyway, naturally the first thing I do upon waking up is check Fb. See what's goin on with my friends in the world. Who hates work today, who wishes it was Friday, who is going to CWS and then to my surprise my mom's status reads:

"My baby is having twins!"

Shit, I am? No... That can't be right. But last I checked I was her youngest i.e. baby? What rumors is my mom starting I wonder. She's friends with a lot of Norfolk peeps. I don't need them thinking I'm a lesbian and a single mother of twins. But then again, Jade's always been a little more babyish, so Jade's having twins? WTF? And I find out on Facebook? But ewww.. Jordan's the princess of the family so it must be him. God help that mom I think to myself. Mind you this is all going through my head in a matter of like three seconds. So after about the fourth second I come to the only logical conclusion that Izzy, our Yorkie is having twins. My mom and I share custody of Izzy, so she is technically ours, but she's been with my mom for the most part lately. And still I think, WTF I find this out on Facebook? My bitch is having babies?! This is big money! I mean news! Big news. A teacup Yorkie in Chicago goes for around $3000. And Izzy is as small as it gets, a little under 4 lbs. I called my mom right away to get to the bottom of it. As it turns out, my mom has promised the dad owner one puppy, and then obviously my mom will keep or sell one puppy. I suppose the dad does deserve something, but $3000 worth of puppy seems quite generous. I can't believe the dad even cares about the puppy, anyway. Has he called Izzy since the humping? Or texted or sent a Fb message? Nope. But she's the one who will probably lose her four pound figure for the rest of her life having to deliver two little barbecue weenys sans the barbecue sauce. But whatevs, it's a dog eat dog-sack world out there.

I'm just excited I get to be home for the birth on July 1st. I haven't been around for a good ol birthing since Knox. Boy oh boy was that an experience. I'm just now barely able to look Jade in the eye. I didn't watch of course, but I heard enough. Granted an animal birth is slightly different from human, unless of course you live in one of those Indian countries and still choose to eat the placenta. Mmmm nothing like a good pot of placenta to warm you up on a chilly day. I remember the day my cat, Skittles, had her babies under my bed- on my favorite Sesame Street sleeping bag I might add. My mom finally made me throw that sleeping bag away after too many friends' parents complained about me bringing it to their sleep overs, apparently it caused their dogs to go a little nuts. I don't remember, it was dumb. But anyway, I recall taking a peak under my bed to see what all the commotion was about but as soon as I saw Skittles eating something slimy off the kittens I had to look away. I love breakfast sausage too much to be ruined of it for life just because I watched a cat eat the birth sack. That sounds like a funny bumper sticker "I'd rather be watching a cat eat a birth sack." Yeah, maybe not.

Raising those six little Siamese kittens was one of the best times of my life. I felt like Mama Duggar caring for my babies. I wonder if there is such thing as wet nurses for animals? I would never do it, but I just wonder. I'll just put that job on my "maybe" list for now alongside the person who holds signs on street corners and dances while dressed like the Statue of Liberty or a giant jalapeno.

So speaking of CWS, is that this weekend already? I'm just so behind on anything Nebraska since I live in Chicago now... Seriously though can we start with the braggy CWS statuses already so I can live vicariously through them on FB? I mean I'm gonna have a killer weekend in Chicago obviously, but I'd still like a little 411 about Paulies, Barretts, TGIFridays the usual hot spots. I'll be hitting up those places next weekend when I'm back fo sho. So get at me. XoXo Gossip Girl.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Happy Hour

Around 4:00 yesterday I hopped on the train and rode the ten minutes downtown to do a little shopping before I met friends for happy hour. Yeah I said friends, nbd. Not only do I have friends in my new city, but I meet them for happy hour. I'm finally able to experience the post work drinking get togethers I've been longing for for so many years. Chris, Kate, Katy and I met at The Cedar Hotel between Rush and State street. Just four young professionals hanging out catching a drink after a busy day on the grind. A lawyer in training (Kate), two salesmen (Chris and Katy), and a culinary specialist (me), just talking about what young professionals talk about. We discussed politics, Kate is going to a political thing tonight because the drinks are cheap. We talked about sales in the 2011's, Chris and Katy believe nobody has any idea what they're doing at their company but that's okay because the bossman is a huge pothead and really doesn't care. And I talked about knife skills. It was a pretty good moment. The only people missing from our middle aged 20something group were Joey and Phoebe. They'll come next time.

Katy told us all how Chicago isn't really that new to her because she's from North Platte, which everybody knows is nicknamed "Little Chicago," she said it even says so on the internet if you google it. Google wouldn't put it if it wasn't true. Little fact that not too many people realize is that Norfolk is often called Little Los Angeles. I'm not sure if this is on google yet but it should be. Now Kate is from Michigan, but according to her she hasn't seen Suh driving around in that shiney black car that he appears to be on TV. I wonder if that really is his house on the commercial. I think it's his mom for sure, but why would she relocate to Detroit? And more so, why in the hell wouldn't Suh buy her a nicer home? Well anyway, Kate now lives in the Boys Town area in Chicago. At first I didn't realize that Chicago had a christian ran institution for troubled young adults, but good for them. We need more places like it. Kate said she likes living there because she feels very safe. I thought it was kind of odd Kate would choose to live in an orphanage home at the age of 24, but who knows, maybe rent is cheap. And like she said, she feels safe. But as it turns out, the neighborhood is just called boys town, it's not an actual "Boys Town." The boys town in Chicago is a little bit different from the Boys Town in Omaha if you catch my glittery pink boa drift... I'm hoping to go out with her there soon. There's nothing like a gay bar to boost the old self esteem.

Well eventually happy hour always turns into drunk hour. We moved on from the Cedar Hotel, which side note is very different from the Cedar Motel. I googled Cedar Motel to figure out where it was when Katy told me that's where we were meeting. I was very confused as to why were doing happy hour at a seedy old motel outside of Chicago, maybe Katy had a secret weird fetish for hookers? But that's when I realized it was Hotel, not Motel. But after we left the bar with the confusing name we went to a little spot called Pippens. It was a cozy hole-in-the-wall with great french fries. We drank more, chatted about our cool hip lives in Chicago, and somehow the conversation always ended up with college drunk stories.

But the thing I've noticed thus far is that Chicago is a bro friendly city. Kid you not, last night at Pippens Kate, Katy and I were the only girls. Every other table was full of guys. I know Denver is called Menver, but Chicago should have a cute nickname, as well. But good luck trying to incorporate the word men or guy or boy or dude into Chicago because it's impossible. I've been trying for the last hour.

Monday, June 13, 2011

Case of the Mondays. But not really.

Internet, modems, routers, cable, cable boxes, ext makes me angry. Like angry in the way Chris Farley was angry when he didn't realize he was drinking Colombian decaffeinated coffee on a hidden camera show. A-N-G-R-Y. I've spent the better part of my morning on the phone with Comcast trying to get someone to come out to install the two cable boxes I didn't know we needed for the two bedroom TV's. Isn't that a jip? Every single room with a TV requires a cable box here in Chicago. And on top of that, we have to pay an "entertainment tax" every month for every room with a TV. They sure do nickel and dime ya around here. Kinda like how Saturday morning I was greeted by not only a lovely hangover, but also a $100 ticket on my car for parking too close to a fire hydrant. Who really even uses fire hydrants these days besides dogs and kids in Kool Aid commercials? With all the technology we have now (routers, modems, cable boxes, Kool Aid commercials) I find it hard to believe they haven't figured out how to just get a portable fire hydrant on a truck that pumps water. Pimp My Ride can install hot tubs for classy black men in their Cadillacs and GMC cars can have Facebook today but firetrucks can't have fire hydrants? Not right. And excuse me but I was under the impression as long as I wasn't in front of the hydrant I was fine. Which for the record I was at least five feet from it. Five feet! So if you're gonna tell me that water hoses these days are more than five feet wide I'd like to see that hose. I'd like to see the hose that can't fit between the five feet that separates my car and the fire hydrant. And then show me the fire men who are able to carry a five foot wide hose that is full of water. I'm sure they'll be followed by 101 Dalmatians ready to run into the house that is on fire that only 10-15 feet between a car and a fire hydrant can save. I know the whole "10-15 feet" rule might also have a little to do with ensuring the truck can properly park, but I can't help but think that in the case of a fire double parking might suffice for a few hours. Then again, the parking police around here are Nazis. And not fun Nazis like the type Prince Harry dressed up as for Halloween, but the type of Nazis who killed Anne Frank and took peoples shoes. Well thank God I moonlight as a lawyer because I'll be damned if I'm paying that ticket. I marked "I contest!" with a black Sharpie and sent the ticket in and will be awaiting my court date. I hope to add another victory to my list of cases before the end of summer.

Besides the ticket on Saturday I mentioned I may or may not have woken up to a slight hangover, as well. The type of hangover where you've just woken up from a dream consisting of excessive water drinking in which your thirst is never quenched. See the only thing I don't like about Fridays is that they are always followed by a Saturday morning. And 9 times out of 10 that morning is spent hungover. And on that 10th time there better be a damn good reason why you're not hungover like you're going in to have surgery on your liver. But anyway, I had the great debate of closing my eyes and feeling dizzy, or keeping them open and feeling my headache intensify with each bead of light that seeped in. It was painful. "At least I didn't I didn't drunk-eat" I thought as I laid in my clothes from the night before trying to piece together what happened wondering if we had lost Doug yet again. Side note- Hangover 2. Have you seen it? I did and I have mixed reviews. The Home Alone 2 lover inside of me says it was a great movie! Whose to say you can't take the exact same plot, same characters, basically same dialogue and jokes and just switch the location and not have a super great movie yet again? The Home Alone 3 hater in me says meh. Rent it, you'll still laugh. But it's literally the same movie. Instead of a baby jacking off it's a monkey. Instead of capturing a tiger it's a monk. The missing tooth becomes the infamous Tyson tattoo and ext and so forth. But back to needing water, I finally convinced myself to walk the ten steps into the kitchen to get a cup and the first thing I noticed was a nacho plate. Hmm. Perhaps I did make a night cap snack. There was also an open jar of peanut butter with a spoon in it. Spoonfuls of high caloric protein before bed, always a good thing. But the nachos were a bit mysterious as I distinctly remember not having salsa in my fridge. I'm not a cheese and chips only kinda gal. I need at least salsa, if not jalapenos, onions, beans and chicken on top of the nachos. At a closer look I noticed the cheese pieces were covered in green something… Of course, my crafty drunk self improvised with pesto for salsa. That's the culinary specialist coming out. And if I remember, which I don't, I think it was pretty good.

All of Saturday was spent laying on the couch. Chris was five times more hungover than I was since he stayed out about five hours longer. We rented Little Fockers and were very excited when we realized it was filmed no more than three blocks from where we live. Why is it that we get so excited when we see something on a movie that we've already seen in real life? You know when you're watching a film and you spot somewhere you've been or eaten and you shout "hey I was there!" Or maybe it's just a thrill for me? But rather than bucking up and heading out, we decided to stay in and experience our super cool neighborhood through a movie instead. You can take the lazy couple out of Topeka, but you can't take the… Yes, you can actually. We have zero Topeka left in us.

And how bout that game last night? Woo hoo! Go Mavs! Dirk is my favorite albino horse player ever! But I'm not gonna sit here and pretend I'm a huge NBA fan because I'm not. I like it two times of year, and that's when it's almost over, or when it involves animated creatures in a film called Space Jam. Talk about the best movie soundtrack of our time. Why haven't we seen more animated movies with NBA stars I wonder? I guess Chris Bosh did star as an Avatar, but that's already been a few years ago. I want a remake of Space Jam starring LeBron, D Wade, and Bosh the Avatar. We'll call it Space Heat. Or Miami Jam. Well the title can be worked on, we don't need any perverts thinking this is some sort of early 90's porn. But seriously, I watched the entire game last night. I think that's a first me. I'm just not a pro fan, mostly because I think professional fan attire is tacky. But that will all have to change now that I live in Chicago. I'm going to try very hard to completely embrace the Bulls, the Bears and the Cubs. Those are my teams now. And the Jags too, of course. If you look under my interests on my Fb page my favorite athlete is Zach Potter and nothing has changed there.

Enough sports talk though, it's time to go take on another day in the windy city. So uh, if anyone else isn't working today in the area, give me a jingle. Leave a text, VM, fb message, whatever. I check all pretty frequently. Yup... Just hanging out.

Friday, June 10, 2011

Lincoln in the top 10? Lincoln in the top 10!

I decided yesterday that my Norfolk blonde (brass) hair was probably just a little too Norfolk for Chicago, and if I wanted to fit in as a city gal I better do something about it. So I bid farewell to my old stylist, L'oreal Brightest Blonde, and found a cute little salon a block from my house to change up my look a bit. In a drastic move I decided city girls make better brunettes and so I asked for a full dark dye job. And then I bought LA Candy by L.C., joined Kelly Clarkson's fan page, and took 1,000 new profile pictures in my bathroom. I'm kidding. Just the thought of going dark gives me nightmares. Literally. Numerous times I have woken up covered in sweat from dreaming I accidentally colored my hair brown or I completely chopped it. I am not a pretty butch, at this point in my life I know what I have to do to give the illusion I'm okay looking. Now if I would have said good looking that'd be arrogant, if I said ugly I'd sound insecure, so "okay looking" is right down the middle which is fine for me. What I lack in Brazilian good looks I like to think I make up for in personality. Although just last night Chris and I got into it regarding my "snotty remarks." He says snotty, I say sarcastic. Tell me the last time you called a guy (who wasn't homosexual) snotty. You didn't. Because guys aren't called that, they're called sarcastic or funny. I'm just asking for fair treatment is all. I'm not complaining about skanks vs playas or anything like that, for the record I'm still 100% bias on that one, a skank is a skank, but a playa is usually a pretty fun guy to be around. And why did I just naturally say "playa" rather than player? Weird. Must be the Tech9 in me still. "I'm a playa, I'm a playa." But anyway, I apologize for being snotty. And by snotty I mean sarcastic, and of course I'm being completely sarcastic (snotty?) right now.

Back to my Chicago changes. After my new and improved city blonde do, I felt it was time to get some clothes that matched. So I tried on a romper... What the hell. What the hell kind of outfit is a romper? Is it a onesie for an adult? I've seen cute rompers on girls so it's not like I'm totally against them. I just think they're a little different is all. For starters, I'm not keen on wearing something that sounds like a Willy Wonka suck- candy. And then if you get one that buttons all the way up how are you supposed to go to the bathroom? Like when you're out drinking I mean. Most times I can't unzip a zipper in time, let alone 12 tiny buttons when I'm in a bar bathroom. Is it supposed to be baggy enough to fit a diaper in there? Well, I tried one on anyway. And as I stood in the Urban Outfitter dressing room with the poor lighting staring at myself in a denim "romper" I couldn't help but think that I'm real. And I used to have a little now I have a lot, but I'm still Jenny from the block. And then I wondered if I gave you all my love would you comfort me? Tell me. Baby. Cuz I'm dreaming of you tonight, till tomorrow I'll be holding you tight. Selena y los dinos forever! JLo is to rompers what Whitney Port is to floral print grandma blouses and blocked nasal passages. Needles to say, I got the romper. But just for a swimsuit cover up.

To show off my new cool look I headed into Starbucks to type up a quick article (I like to pretend I work for a magazine when I go to Starbucks) and sip on an iced latte. I sat and typed and drank my latte (coffee cake) like the regular Sbux patron that I am. When it was time to go I gathered up my things and headed out the door. But as it turned out, the door I was intending to nudge open with my arm was actually just a glass window next to the door. So yes, I walked into a glass window shoulder and head first. I don't get embarrassed often, but this was quite embarrassing. I tried to laugh and say something like,

"well who moved the door?"

But no one responded. And that's almost worse than having strangers laugh at you. I would much rather have someone laugh at me on the outside then stifle the laughs on the inside. So the blonde girl who walked into the window ran, yes I mean ran, home as fast as I could.

Definitely happy today is another Friday. I love Fridays because they always come right when you really need one. And just like in college when technically every night is a Friday, as it kind of is for me now, you just can't beat the real thing. And speaking of fun Fridays did anyone else notice that Lincoln was voted in the top 10 places to live after college? What's that you say? Everybody from Lincoln who currently lives there after college posted it to their Facebook page exactly 23 seconds after the article came out? If that's not town pride then I don't know what is. No longer just a great college town, but now thanks to Trader Joes and Grata it's a great town for after college, as well. Well keep it up Lincoln, I'll see you soon enough.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Hot Child in the City

Why don't city folk have pools? I seriously don't get it. Why is the concept so difficult of taking an open lot of land, digging a hole and filling it up with water? People in the country have this down pat. And it's not like there's not enough space because I see a new park every other block where a pool could be implemented. But instead of pools the city of Chicago seems to prefer to put in fountains; fancy fountains, wishing fountains, kid fountains, drinking fountains, they do it all. Today I sat and watched the Martin Luther King Preschool play in the fountain for hours. At first I thought it was a bunch of lunch ladies and a play group out to play, but then I realized that the female teachers just didn't want to get their new hairdids wet so they shower capped them. Smart thinking, I'm definitely going to steal some shower caps the next time I stay in a hotel. The kids frolicked in the fountains as if they weren't just glorified shower heads. Guess the old stereotype about swimming doesn't pertain to fountain play. However, I will say I watched Precious's mother drench a terrified little boy with water as he cried and cried outside of the fountain area. This nasty woman just couldn't accept that this little boy didn't like the fountains so she insisted on throwing buckets of water on the poor little kid.

"You aint need to be crying nah more. You aint need be crying like dat!" She would scream as she tossed water onto the little guy. He would cry and run away like it was acid hitting him. But maybe the water actually hurt his skin... So perhaps he showers in acid at home?

So at this point in time I'm just trying to pack in as much city fun as I can handle before my summer starts to get really busy with all of my camps I'm attending. Like I always say, time flys when you're at summer camp. My first camp is art camp in Kansas City, this one I'm not so excited for as I'm technically a "counselor" at it like last year. Four days spent with emo artsy high school kids is four days too many. It's about as much same sex hand holding and awkwardly bright Nike retro tops as I can handle. Luckily, immediately after, I get to go home for a week of Norfolk pool and then I'll jet off to my writing camp in the Hamptons. Even though this is my first writing camp I bet that emo writing adults are way cooler than emo high school kids. I'll be the poor kid at camp who was accepted on scholarship and has to stay in the dorms while I'm sure all of the other campers opted for the hotel instead. But hotels in the Hamptons around the 4th of July aren't exactly cheap. Plus, I think staying in a dorm will really give me the camp experience, it will be just like the Nebraska basketball camps I used to attend when I stayed in Smith dorms. Knowing what I know now about Smith dorms I wish I would have brought my own sheets. HSS are for two kinds of people, athletes and athlete chasers (skanks) I mean at least in the 2005's they were. I'm kidding, I'm kidding, I don't think all jersey chasers were sluts, I know quite a few who turned out very nicely. But anyway, it's now time to get ready for another free concert in the park. Anyone ever heard of Dispatch?

Monday, June 6, 2011

Seeing the Sights.

Today I officially became a "big city girl." So note to self, stop saying phrases like "big city girl." Anyway, I'm laying out in a public park on a towel in my swimsuit. I always wondered what kind of people do this, you know just plop down on a grassy knoll without a pool in sight in the middle of a busy section of the city. Well now I know, it's people who want to catch a little sun and this is really their only option. I love Chicago, but what's with the lack of pools around here? Maybe stop with all the Trader Joes and 7-11s and add a pool every other block. But perhaps I'm the only one who cares though, the people here seem to have zero lay out stamina. I'm a diligent sun dweller, a good 11-4 day is the perfect amount of sun for me. But I've sat in this park and watched girl after girl lay out for at most an hour and a half. It's kind of pathetic. Yet every five minutes I see someone walk into 7-11 or pass by with a Trader Joes bag. Don't get me wrong I love Trader Joes, I think I would be kicked out of Lincoln Park if I said otherwise. It's where everyone shops here because everyone is super cool. Hy Vee is so small town. Grocery stores are just one more place to set yourself apart on the urban social ladder. I just get so overwhelmed in Trader Joes is the problem. I see so many cheeses and frozen snacks and cereal, but where are my Cool Ranch Doritos or Tyson chicken nuggets? I grew up on Kraft and Frito Lay so naturally it's going to take a while for me to adjust to the more trendy brands that we are supposed to buy because it makes the world better. And by world I mean me, shopping at TJ's makes me better.

After sunning for a bit I decided it was Har's turn for a little fun so we walked one block over to Wiggly Park, the city dog park. To use a cliche I have turned to far too much this past week I could only think upon entering that "we're definitely not in Kansas anymore." When did we leave Lincoln Park and enter the Compton of dog parks I wondered? These dogs weren't playing, they were fighting. If Michael Vick recruited he would come here, if Rivals had a dog website they would be based of Wiggly. In Topeka the dog park was a big wide open space where the dogs joyfully ran back and forth chasing tennis balls and played on top of the benches. Here the dogs were dealing coke hidden in tennis balls and humping each other under the benches. But Har insisted we stay. Just like any gang ridden area it's all about finding the right group to run with. We went to the South side near the doggy pools where I saw other small to medium dogs playing. Granted Harlow could be classified as "large" these days, but his courage and mentality linger with the small dogs so I don't push. He was born that way. He tested out the pools for a while, which had they not been full of dog hair and drool I might have dipped in as well it's so freaken hot, and then he found a sweet little mutt "Jacko" to run around with. I've also advised Harlow to play with the rescue dogs first because they are usually the insecure ones who need friends the most.

Watching dogs interact on their own terms reminds me a lot of reality TV. The dogs who want the most attention are super bitchy and are always making asses of themselves while the quiet ones hang out in the background and prefer not to be noticed. They have a best friend one second and the next second their enemies ready to rip each other's faces off. The glossy dogs think they're superior to the others and are always leading the pack and the less fortunate looking dogs follow the leaders around like little ducklings. And at any given time someone is always getting humped. Sometimes on both ends.

While I've been having such a wonderful day outside, Chris has been locked up at his first day of work. Last night we layed out his first day of work outfit on the couch and mapped out the trains he would take. But I think nerves got the best of him this morning because around 7:10 he woke me up and "jokingly" said,

"wouldn't that be funny if you just drove me today."

I was enjoying my sleep so I think I grunted something like,

"no."

But I could hear him waiting around so I offered,

"well I could if you really want me to."

"no, no I was kidding. I mean, unless you want to, I would hate to be late, I mean, maybe it would make more sense for you to drive me? I don't know. What do you think?"

And five minutes later I was giving Chris a pep talk on the way to his first day. I told him that those Groupon kids are known to be a pretty sassy bunch and that he shouldn't be intimidated. If anyone gave him shit about anything at all he was to call and I would be there in a heartbeat. He just laughed. But I was, and am still serious. He'll do great though, I'm sure he will love his new job. Speaking of jobs, I've been giving my newest job search a lot of thought. After being in the park today I started to consider a career in either dog walking or being a nanny. However, I don't enjoy picking up shit or whining. I fear these would be two big aspects of both.

But for now I have no time to worry about jobs. I am far too busy becoming a Chicago native. Tonight Chris and I are going to a concert in Millennium Park. Can you believe that? A concert on a Monday! I haven't been to a concert on a school night since New Radicals/Goo Goo Dolls in 1998 at Wayne State College with Kiley Story and my mom. But it's just another Monday night in Chicago.

Friday, June 3, 2011

Just another day in Chicago.

What a whirlwind of a week. Holy schmokes. Moving is fun, Chris and I like it so much this was our third move in under nine months. Switching addresses for bills and utilities and credit cards is all part of the crazy ride. However I am hoping we stay in this place for a little bit longer than four months. Third times a charm... Let's recap this wonderful first week of June.

Monday: Packed up our UHaul only to find out we own way too much shit and had to leave a lot behind. Sad to think my Tj Maxx Christmas trees will not be joining us for our first December in Chicago. But at least I'm happy to know all our Topeker neighbors were already scavenging our trash before we could even pull out of town. What is one person's trash is another Topekan's treasure. We finally pulled out of Peker around 3:30. What a moment this was for me. Just thinking about it brings tears to my eyes. Good bye Topeka for good, it's just almost too much. Luckily, I wrote an Ode to Topeker which I will be posting at a later date. We drove all the way to Joliet, Il, which is right outside of Chicago, before pulling over for the night. Naturally I was stoked about staying here as Joliet is the birth place of one of the best college football players ever: Rudy.

Tuesday: We started the morning right with a hearty breakfast at Bob Evans. Classy joint, definitely big city eating. After what should have been no more than 40 minutes, but was actually about 75, we pulled up to our new home in Lincoln Park. Traffic is perplexing to me here. Where is everybody going I wonder? Why does everybody seem to slow down at the same places? All I know is that someone really needs to do something about this traffic because it's ridiculous, I will not stand for it. Anyway, our new place is the bottom floor of a very quaint victorian home on Wrightwood ave. Two houses to my left is a Starbucks and the other way is a bar. I'm in heaven. I'm not going to pretend unpacking was fun, because it wasn't. It was awful. Everybody knows Chris and I are a perfect couple and never fight about anything because we are perfect, but on this day we had quite a few choice words for each other. "Lift!" "I am!" "Move over!" "Stop pushing!" "To the right!" "Don't drop that!" "I hate you!" "I'm leaving!" "You're the devil!" "Burn in hell!" Just standard moving dialogue. Thank God my mom was there or else Chris and I might have had our first physical fight. I know we were both game for it. But after eight grueling hours later we had all of our boxes into our tiny place. So now it was time to fit a square peg into an awkwardly layed out apartment. But thanks to alot of patience and understanding (aderol) we finally got it all done. 

Wednesday: When in doubt go to Ikea. What a wonderful place this cheap Swedish store is. If Sweden is anything like Ikea I want to go. We let our little hearts go bargain wild and picked out new rugs and blankets and light fixtures and even a cool little bar for our living room because we have friends now. We're going to have to entertain all the friends that come over I'm sure (Katy? Andy? Kate?) and the list really goes on and on. We're "friend people" now.

Thursday: Time to explore/lose my phone. Lose your phone? Well why not I've only cracked four different screens now, let's go ahead and just lose it completely. I've got money to throw around. I looked inside and out for my naughty little iPhone and it's no where. I'm assuming it decided to head back to Peker. And I want nothing to do with negative phones so the hell with it. My mom and I spent the day galavanting around Lincoln Park. I was quite impressed with the diversity of it all. So many Mexican mamas and their white babies! It was adorable. Harlow is still struggling with the whole city dog concept as he chose to take a large poo right in the middle of the street at a busy cross section. I picked up his shit as numerous car dwellers watched with a look of glee i  their eye. We stopped at a cute outdoor restaurant for a refreshing sangria. Around 7 we headed to the train to pick up Chris's sister Ashley to show her our new place. She's beyond thrilled to have her little bro in the same city.

And here we are today. Friday, Friday, party'n party'n yeah. I think I should change the name of this blog to something more appropriate and original like "Girl in the City" or "Tay in the City" or "Me and Harlow in the city." Anything ending with "in the city" would suffice and be appropriately cliche. We'll just have to see. Cheers to my first Friday in Chicago, may yours be just as good.
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