Goodbye to the Kia

This is my car, the Kia Sephia, known to some as Sophie, known to some as the Fear No Art Mobile, known quite often to me as my $&%@#*%&! car.

It was made in 2000.  I bought it in 2009.  For two and a half years, it drove me to class at Edinboro University, took me to dance rehearsal in Erie, PA, carried me to the airport, and once, all the way to Louisville, Kentucky and back.

It also sometimes refused to start for no discernable reason, and I’d have to call my then-boyfriend to come bail me out of the Wal-Mart parking lot or the sketchy Erie neighborhood or wherever.  The driver’s side sun visor came loose and dangled distractingly until I ripped it off.  In the winter, all the doors froze shut, and even when I managed to get one open, it wouldn’t shut again until the car warmed up.  I’d spend a good ten minutes driving slowly through the ice and snow, leaning all the way over to the passenger side, holding the door shut because it was the only door that would open in the first place.

The best thing?  One time the timing belt snapped when I was waiting at a red light in downtown Erie, and I had to flag all the other cars around me until a tow truck came to rescue me.

Now I’m donating the Kia to charity.  It has sat in my dad’s driveway for four months, and it has failed inspection, and I think it’s time for it to go. 

I guess this is a little bit bittersweet, which is probably the case for most people when they get rid of their first car, because it’s been with me for a while and has seen me through a lot of things, blah blah blah, etc. 

It’s also bittersweet because originally, I kept the car so I’d have a way to get around whenever I visited Pennsylvania. 

And when I finished my degree in Chicago, I reasoned, I’d have a car when I moved to some little place less public transit-friendly than this city.

But things have changed since then.  I don’t plan on leaving Chicago anytime soon.  I have a full-time job.  I have friends.  I’m getting to know the city a little better all the time.

So, donating the Sephia is a little bit like cutting the last of the apron strings.  Even if I wanted to move back to Pennsylvania, not having a car there would make it that much more impractical.

I put my kayak on my car this summer just to prove I was strong enough to do it by myself.  Scratched my car all to heck in the process, but I got it done.

Goodbye, fussy little car!  I don’t have the slightest idea what happens to cars that are donated to charity.  But wherever you end up, I hope they treat you nice.

My Friend Tina

This past weekend, one of my best friends came to visit me in Chicago.

In the spirit of protecting her delicate identity, I will refer to her as Tina Fey. 

(Seriously, she looks so much like Tina Fey.)

It took a while for me to find her on the corner of Washington and LaSalle.  She wandered there from the train station and hung out in the Einstein Bagels, and then when I got there she’d gone across the street, so I spent a few minutes pacing outside Einstein’s and wondering if she’d been kidnapped.

But then she saw me and came back.  We had a tearful reunion.

And we had a great weekend!

We went to Chinatown and bought trinkets.

We saw the holiday train at the Jackson red line stop.  There were lights and a Santa and excitement.

Great shot, right?

We got very cold and stopped at Corner Bakery for coffee and defrosting our fingers.

We got warm again and went to the Bean at Millennium Park.

We saw the Marilyn Monroe statue.  Marilyn had snow on her dress.

We bumped into way too many people on State Street.

We went to Daley Plaza and the Christmas market, which personally I found a little boring except for these birds:

We went to the Sears Tower (NOT Willis Tower, as it would insist to be called these days).  Tina called her mom and was like GUESS WHERE I AM!  NO, NOT CHINATOWN!  GUESS!

Here we are on the skydeck:

Okay, not a great picture, you can't see a thing, it was dark and raining, don't judge.

We went to dinner at Elephant and Castle.

We watched Bridesmaids, and my life became complete.

…And all of that was just Saturday.

Sunday was fun, too.  Tina and I saw The Descendants with George Clooney and I had to bite down hard on my tongue to keep from bursting into tears.  What a sad and beautiful movie.  My god, I can’t even describe.  Also I dropped all my popcorn on the ground.

We also got super lost on our way back to the train station Sunday night and ended up walking something like 16 blocks in the cold and dark, and by the time we reached Union Station we were exhausted and starving and grumpy.  Somehow we were able to avoid getting hit by trucks, stumbled into a sports bar, and ate and drank everything we could ever want.  Tina made me get a cab home.  Ahem.

A word about friends: the ones who ride Amtrak from the smutty old station in Erie, PA to visit you in Chicago, who get up with you at 6 AM because you have to go to work on Friday and don’t want to leave them all alone in your apartment, who wait patiently on a dead college campus while you’re at work, who don’t get mad when you can’t follow directions and end up dragging them all over the more god-forsaken parts of the city, who leave town Sunday night on same smutty train because they have to go to work at 8 AM after a night of fitful, chilly sleep…those are friends worth having.

Tina Fey is one of those friends.

Here we are having fun together.

The End.

Chicago's First Snow

Thursday night, snow fell in Chicago.

I didn’t realize this when I walked out the door at 6:30 Friday morning.  I traipsed down the two flights of outdoor stairs to the alley, on my way to catch the bus, and was met with a sparkly dusting of fresh snow.

Having lived in northeastern Pennsylvania for five years, and Michigan for two years before that, I’m no newcomer to snow.  But the first snowfall is always a surprise and a delight, at least to me.

Did you know I used to be kind of weirdly obsessed with snow?  Senior year of college, I started eating it.  Like, a lot.  And by the way, eating snow is not a good idea for anyone, even aside from that whole “don’t eat the yellow snow” joke.  It does carry a ton of bacteria and nastiness.  It was never a good idea for me to eat snow.

But I did.  I’d eat a whole bowl of it every day.  What can I say?  Emotionally, it got me through February.

I wish you all a happy Sunday.  The end.

How to Take the Town in Chicago

Chicago, like all big cities, has a great blend of intellectual, educational, high-culture attractions and crazy excellent party places.  Okay, admittedly I haven’t really been to the crazy excellent party places.  I’m poor and socially awkward and super nerdy, which means you won’t find me at a club or wherever.

But!  Here, in my opinion, is the best way to spend a rainy Saturday in Chicago, as I had the pleasure of doing last weekend:

1.       Visit the Field Museum, which is your run-of-the-mill natural history/science museum with an excellent array of special exhibits.

2.       Meet one of your best friends at the museum.

3.       Decide that in addition to the run-of-the-mill exhibits of Native American families and polar bears, you also will go to see the new Chocolate exhibit.

4.       Walk through the Chocolate exhibit.  Learn about cacao beans, spicy Mayan hot chocolate, the European combination of chocolate and sugar, and the evolution of candy bars.

5.       Become ravenously hungry.

6.       Buy two extremely expensive chocolate bars.

7.       Have a bite to eat in the museum café because your friend insists that “chocolate is not lunch!”

8.       Go see the Native American families and polar bears.

9.       Get gently kicked out at 5 when the museum closes.

10.   Discover that you should not have worn those cute boots that are making your feet hurt so much now.

11.   Accept when your friend offers to get you two a cab.

12.   Go to TJ Maxx.

13.   Buy way too much, including new cowboy boots to replace the miserable ones you’re wearing.

14.   Go to Filene’s Basement.

15.   Buy a fuchsia minidress that you wouldn’t normally be caught dead in, but your friend says it’s hot and it’s about time you wore something with a little color.  

16.   Go to Quartino, an Italian tapas place, for dinner.

17.   Discover that there is an hour and a half wait.

18.   Put down a reservation and decide to kill time by visiting the Signature Lounge at the top of the John Hancock Tower.

19.   Discover that there’s a 20 minute wait to get into a Chicago bar with a view of Indiana on a Saturday night.

20.   Go to the ladies’ room and take a picture of the view from the enormous window:

21.   Get a cab back to Quartino.

22.   Sit down to dinner at 9:45.

23.   Order your first taste of sangria and love it.

24.   Order delicious Italian tapas.  Eat skate for the first time.  Love it forever.

25.   Devour every bite.

26.   Order limoncello dessert drinks and a tiramisu.

27.   Make a promise to yourself never to eat anything again.  Ever.

28.   Decide to leave when you realize it’s past 11.

29.   Tiptoe through the rain to the train station.

30.   Go home and sleep for 11 hours.

In conclusion,  I love Chicago.  The end.

The Christmas Season on Southport

So awhile ago, I told you guys that I’d tell you more about the neighborhood I live in, and after what happened the other night, it feels like the right time to dish.

I live in Lakeview, on the north side of Chicago, slightly northwest of Wrigley Field, on a street called Southport.  Southport is the kind of place where most people, of my age and financial status, often grow to hate: it’s full of pricey boutiques and upscale coffee shops.  A lot of families live here, and you’ll see the young, fit moms pushing a baby jogger with one hand and holding a specialty coffee in the other.  There are two—TWO—stores where you can buy unique treats and clothes and toys for your dog.  (And the dogs, oh my goodness. They’re all fluffy, well-behaved, purebred, adorable little animals, and I don’t even LIKE dogs.)

A lot of people hate this kind of stuff because it’s pricey and pretentious and whatnot, and it’s not like I have too much excess money to spend, but Southport really is nice as a result. 

So Friday night, I decided to take the long walk home from the Southport stop on the brown line because I felt like I needed the exercise, and this turned out to be a very happy accident.  It was the night of the Southport Holiday Stroll.  Most of the stores had live music and big sales going on.  There were Christmas lights and Christmas carols.  I couldn’t even get inside one of the boutiques because there was a group of old people in there, singing the Hallelujah Chorus.  And did they ever have a screechy soprano.

I stopped in this little clothing and jewelry boutique with a girl in a strapless black dress singing Christmas carols and strumming a guitar, who sounded faintly like Dolly Parton, and I felt like a little kid, exploring all the weird necklaces and hippy dresses and listening to county/western Christmas tunes.  (Actually, I had to leave after two and a half songs because the singer’s voice kind of got to me.)

No, but seriously, the whole street was adorable.  I love my pretentious little boutique neighborhood with all its unaffordable kitsch.  I love the passersby with their North Face coats and their café mochas.  And I love all the restaurants with the dog bowls sitting out for the puppies passing by.  The world may be a miserable place, but you can forget that for a brief moment in my little neighborhood.

On a halfway unrelated note, we decorated our apartment for Christmas.  Our decorations consist of the following:

WOO!  Aren’t we festive???  (That tree, in case you can't tell, is about two feet tall.  Including the stand.)

Segways and Chicken Dances

Here is the awesome thing, although I am posting about it belatedly: I WENT ON A SEGWAY TOUR OF CHICAGO!

Here is the not awesome thing: I have videos of it, and pictures that my aunt texted to me, but I can’t email myself the videos nor can I do anything with pictures that other people text me except look at them, so unfortunately they won’t be posted here, which makes me very sad, because they’re so much fun.  If I were a fourteen-year-old, this is the part where I would go MY PHONE SUUUXXXXX.

Anyway.

To put it plainly, segwaying is seriously fun.  My aunt came to Chicago for business for a few days, so we went to see what all the segway fuss was about (in the beginning of November, which actually wasn’t too cold, hooray!). 

We got to the segway place—basically it was a big empty warehouse at Lake Point Tower—and practiced for a while before heading out.  Here’s the thing I didn’t know: you don’t have to shift a gear or push a button or twist a knob to go, stop, or turn.  You just rock forward and back on your heels and kind of move the handles to the left or right.  It’s a very fluid and intuitive motion that, after a while, feels completely normal.

Once our guide was convinced we weren’t going to kill ourselves, he led us out on the street, past Navy Pier out to Millennium Park and Grant Park, to Buckingham Fountain and the Art Institute, the Field Museum and Soldier Field (I just realized both those names have the word “field” in them and wonder if that means anything, like how the Field museum is close to the football field?  I don’t know), and basically it was a super sweet time.

Also we got to wear bright lime green helmets.  And nobody fell in Lake Michigan and nobody died.  And hopefully, none of the drivers on Michigan Avenue got too annoyed when 11 amateur segwayers took up the crosswalk.

I highly recommend segwaying.  To get an idea of how excellent it can be, please enjoy this clip from my favorite show:

Okay, screw it.  I wanted to put up a good clip of Gob Bluth on his segway but Youtube has failed me.  They’re all too short and not the one I wanted.

So in place of that, here is a compilation of chicken dances from Arrested Development, which is just as worthy of your time.



Why I Love Chicago: Lake Shore Drive

After three months in this city (to the day), I can say that I am officially a sucker for Chicago.

You’re probably thinking, Ha!  Wait ‘til that famous Chicago winter hits!  To which I would like to reply, yes, it will be cold, but get this:

·         I lived in Erie, PA, for five years, so I know something about cold and snow.

·         I don’t have a car, which is a whole different hassle in the winter.

·         And I have a floor-length down coat with a big fur hood, so take that!

Things I don't have to worry about.

Anyway, my main point is this: I love Chicago.  It’s not perfect, but it is pretty, pretty great. 

You can order any kind of food you like and have it delivered.  Tonight I am having pad Thai.  Last week I had a Cajun shrimp po’ boy.

If you need something, there is a good chance you can find a store or a service very close to where you live to get it done.

If there’s a musician or a show you really want to see on tour, it probably won’t be too long ‘til the show comes to town.

These are all efficient and convenient things, but that’s not the best part.  One of the best parts is the view on my commute home from work.

See, I have a job in Hyde Park (haha!  Guess where!) and I live up in Lakeview.  This accounts for a loooooong ride to and from work. 

In the morning, it can be a little rough, but in the evening, riding the bus along Lake Shore Drive offers the most breathtaking view.

This picture was taken in the summer, and not by me, but whatever.

You’ve got Lake Michigan on the right, which might have waves crashing on the beach if it’s windy enough, which it often is.  And up ahead is the city skyline. 

Last week the bus I got on was so crowded, I had to stand up at the very front, right next to the driver.  This has become my new favorite place to be on a bus.  You can see everything through the enormous windows, you don't have to drive, and if you happen to be coming into the city on Lake Shore Drive at dusk, well, it's an experience worth having.  If the bus is going really fast, it feels like flying.  Is that sentimental?  Well, I'm sentimental.

Not that public transportation is anything to be passionate about, but it does have its perks.  Gorgeousness is one of them.

Chicago is beautiful.  The end!

Why I Haven't Posted Lately

Work: work is crazy busy. 

School: finals are coming up and I have a lot to do.

Travel: I ride a bus, a train, and a bus to work and back, which eats up time and gets very exhausting after awhile.

Wash, rinse, repeat the above several times and you get the picture.

Hope to be back soon!

Parody-ations on a Theme

If you’ve had high school English, there’s a very good chance you’ve read this poem by William Carlos Williams:

This Is Just To Say

I have eaten

the plums

that were in

the icebox

and which

you were probably

saving

for breakfast

Forgive me

they were delicious

so sweet

and so cold

This is a wonderful and very well-known poem.  It’s one of my favorites, although I don’t know if that maybe makes me a little bit clichéd.  But in my writing workshop tonight, we read some “variations on a theme” (ahem, parodies) based on this poem, such as this one by Kenneth Koch:

I chopped down the house that you had been saving to live in next summer.

I am sorry, but it was morning, and I had nothing to do

and its wooden beams were so inviting.

(There were several more, but that one, to me, is especially perfect.)

The final part of the exercise was to write our own variations.  Here, for your amusement or disgust, whichever, are my contributions:

I shot your purebred Greyhound this morning

the one you were training for the dog show.

Forgive me.  It kept me up all night.

I broke in through your window last night

to take back the wrench you borrowed.

Forgive me, for my faucet was dripping.

I am sorry I stabbed you in the eye.

Please understand, I was bored,

and you wear really hideous glasses.

The Best Thing Ever: #19 Continued

Remember when I said that the best thing ever is baking soda?

That fact became even more true today, when I found this:

And it was on sale for a dollar, too.

Baking soda wins forever.

What Happened Lately: Bananas, Umbrellas, and Guilt

Hi Folks.

It’s been a while.  Sorry.  Turns out that going to school full-time, working 40 hours a week, and have a 3-hour commute each day (round trip) is HARD.  I’m not complaining, because things are going well, but…holy guacamole.

Anyway, here are a few things that have happened since we last got together:

I accidentally ate a piece of BANANA CAKE.  It just looked like white cake with yellow frosting.  I put a bite in my mouth, gagged a little bit, threw it in the trash, and tried to forget the trauma.  I’m still not over it.  Bananas are the worst. 

I learned that umbrellas are mankind’s worst attempt at technology.  Here’s what happened to mine all in the span of one hour:

1.       The plastic protective shield that is supposed to keep your finger from getting pinched in the metal part (you know, the part you squeeze to collapse your umbrella) broke off.

2.       True to form, I squeezed the metal part to collapse the umbrella and it pinched off a sizeable chunk of my index finger.

3.       While I was walking along, gingerly cupping my hand to keep the blood from getting all over me, the top part of the umbrella broke off completely and went bouncing down the sidewalk.

It was cold and wet and windy, and I no longer wanted to live. 

Then I bought a new, better umbrella, and so far it hasn’t failed me.  But it’s only been, like, 6 days.  So we’ll see.

I’ve been giving my bedroom a makeover, including putting this on the wall:

It’s a little bit hippie for my taste, but I do like the warm colors.  They’re lovely in the colder weather.

It’s also been a big week for using online deals, for me.  I used my first Groupon and I tried GrubHub for the first time.  GrubHub?  Awesome.  You order food without having to talk to anyone on the phone.  Groupon?  Awesome, but also anxiety-inducing.  You want the deal, but you don’t want to go use it when 478 OTHER PEOPLE HAVE JUST BOUGHT IT.  How do the restaurants and places like that handle it? 

Anyway, I bought a mani-pedi combo on Groupon and then started freaking out because the Yelp! reviews weren’t great, but I had an okay experience.  My nails look better and I got a good hour or so of relaxing, even though I wasn’t completely relaxed because I always feel like I need to be helping my attendant.  I feel bad when they do your nails and then you can’t touch anything so they have to cart your purse and your coat and your stuff around for you.  And then your jeans are all rolled up and they come over and roll them back down for you before you leave, and you feel totally helpless, but also grateful because they just brushed some pristine polish on your nails and you don’t want to scratch it.

In the end, I love the final result of my mani-pedi, but it has done a number on my already solid guilt complex.

I Make Strong

I have begun taking kettlebell classes.  This is because I now work 40 hours a week and no longer have unlimited hours for leisurely exercise.  The first time I took a kettlebell class last week, I wanted to throw up, pass out, and rip my heart out of my chest because that might dull its pain.  But now I seem to have gotten used to the intensity and am starting to enjoy the extreme muscle-building.

And when I say extreme, I do mean extreme, because now I look like this:

It’s true.  I even started growing my first mustache.

I just wanted to give you all fair warning.

What They Call The Bathroom Here

People in Chicago (or maybe it’s the entire Midwest too, heck if I know) call public bathrooms “washrooms.”  I find this so refreshing and nice.  Really, the other words we have for this kind of place are a little incorrect.  Think about it—

Bathroom: unless you are a trucker at a Flying J, you do not take a bath in a public bathroom.  (If I am wrong on this, please don’t correct me, because I don’t want to know how you or anyone managed to take a bath at a gas station.)

Restroom: this is just funny.  I guess you can rest in there, but most people want to get out as quickly as possible.

Lavatory: I had a middle school teacher who insisted that everyone use this word.  But I don’t see it anywhere else except on airplanes.  Raise your hand if you say lavatory.  That’s what I thought.

Washroom is morphologically and technically correct and makes the whole business seem so clean and businesslike, and I applaud the good people of Chicago for using it.

By the way, I only bring all this up because at my job, the number one question that people ask me is, “Where is the bathroom/restroom/washroom?”  To which I say “Across the hall and to the left.”  And they say thank you.  And I get paid.  And it is a wonderful life.

Anyway, I am still wishing and hoping for someone to call it a “whiz palace.”

Unfortunately I couldn’t find the scene from Parks and Rec where Leslie says that, so here she is talking about bad dates:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xkuNNFxbiU&feature=related

(OK blog people, I'm at your mercy.  How do you get the video to show up, not just the link?  I'm at a loss.  Thank you and goodnight.)

Shopping and Friends-Making

Oh my god you guys!  Today I went shopping!  And it was like, so fun!  It was the funnest day ever!

Okay, it wasn’t the funnest, but it was fun.  I actually went out with people, people being my coworker and a friend of hers, which was a big deal because being social is a concept that usually makes me want to curl up and hide in bed with my Facebook and my Hulu Plus.  I am one of those awful Tech Generation people that old folks complain about: great at interacting behind the safety of the internet, then freezing up and being a weirdo in person.

Anyway!  You didn’t want to know that.  The point is that my two shopping buddies are really nice, outgoing ladies who put me right at ease, and we headed to DSW and Marshall’s and places like that for, I don’t know, a good seven hours.

Holy guacamole.  I am not a recreational shopper.  I don’t understand the appeal.  Today was a lot of fun, but I don’t shop for fun regularly.  It is exhausting! 

Also, here is where we went for lunch.  Mmm, I love Thai food. 

While we ate, we got to be entertained by the restaurant owner tacking a giant spider web on the wall, and attaching a several-feet-long-in-diameter stuffed tarantula to it.

We were also entertained by the bar hoppers running (literally running) past the windows in Halloween costumes, as part of a pub scavenger hunt.

When we walked out, they asked if any of us could turn our eyelids inside out.  That was one of the scavenger hunt items.

We had to disappoint them, however.

Later we got frozen yogurt at Red Mango, and wandered around a tiny mall on Clark Street until I collapsed on a chair and declared that I must go home. 

So, my first official foray in social life in Chicago was a success.  Next week, apparently, I’m going to a housewarming party.

I will keep you updated on how long it takes for me to wind up hyperventilating in the bathroom.

Taking Such Good Care of Myself

I’m dying of cholera over here (read: it’s a head cold) and therefore don’t have much energy or any experiences worth posting about, but I did want to share this picture of the box of crackers I was eating last night:

Do you see that?  “Natural flavor with other natural flavor”?

I feel so conscientious about the things I put into my body.

My Early-Morning Adventure

Here is what happened this morning:

I got to my bus stop and sat down to wait for the bus. 

A man got off a different bus and sat down on the bench next to me.

He was very close.

He was smiling way too much.

He said hello.

I thought OH NO.

I said hi.

He said what’s your name?

I told him my first name.

He told me his first name.

He said you’re beautiful!!!

I said thank you.

He said you smell good!!!

I said thank you.

He said can I get your phone number?

I said no.

He said oh, cause I thought I could get your phone number.

I said no thank you.

He said you wanna t-shirt?

He showed me his plastic bag full of t-shirts.

I said no thank you.

He said you work down here?

I said mmhmm.

He said you work over there?

He pointed to the American Apparel across the street.

I said no.

He said you’re beautiful!!!

I said thank you.

He said are you Cinderella?

I said no.

He said are you Snow White?

I said no.

We sat in miserable silence for a million years.

He said what bus you waiting for?

I said it doesn’t matter.

He said nah, it doesn’t matter.

My bus came and I fled.

The end.