MY HAT!

One of the Hott Gurlz, Erin, found my Dekalb hat!
I'm so happy! This makes my day!
It supposedly smells like Pez.
I'm not too excited about that, but it's the price I pay for forgetting my hat in the first place.
Man, I need sticky glue on my hands or something. This losing streak is not cool.

I'm not going to the speech meet on Saturday (which is at Neuqua, which I LOVE because I always won there, which always rocked!), or at least I don't have to judge. Donna supposedly has that one covered. *Tear* I could be nice and show up anyway to watch all the little speechers, but probably not.

Speech team!

Oh man, I'm getting so excited about speech team that it borders on the ridiculous.
Donna B. sent me an e-mail asking if I wanted to judge and coach.
Hell YEAH! It's only what I've been waiting for since August!
God, I'm such a nerd.

back to work

I'm working again with my mom cleaning model houses while I'm on break.
I love my job. Sometimes, I wish I could be a cleaning lady for the rest of my life. I could learn Spanish fluently or Polish! That would be kick-ass.
It's hard going back to work after three months off. The vacuum is much heavier than I remember, and now my hands sting because of the handle. Man, I missed that beast. Royal vacuums are superior. That might be funny to some, but Hoover and Dyson have nothing on the Royal. It's the king of all vacuums. You just have to be careful not to run over the cords with it, or it will suck them up and then you're in trouble.
But I still remember all the little cleaning tips my mom or boss taught me and I distinctly remember the houses themselves. I could probably draw every single layout of each house and tell you exactly where the furniture goes and even where each trinket belongs. Not to mention the distinct smell of each house: some good, some baaaad!
Now, I think I'm going to take a nap since I stayed up half the night working on this blog. I still have a little more work to do: add more links, maybe change a picture or two. Oh, and I have to stay away from Elliot; he has the flu. And we all know how much I Love to vomit.

Buzznet buzz

Yeah, I know those posts haven't been updating themselves...

Brian, Alex, and I went to the Chicago-post Buzznet convention. Good times! Although, I'm sorry to say that I can't really write about it. Just one of those things you had to be at to understand. I'll recap the highlights for all you news junkies.
We didn't show up to the shindig until 9:00pm because we got dinner in Lincoln Park, and didn't want to look like BIG losers and be the first people to show up, the whole fashionably late concept.
We all met Tony P, Dave, Byron, and Chris. Good, cool peoples.
Dave bought Alex and I drinks in the name of underage drinking.
We talked about everything under the sun, but all I seem to remember is Tony P telling Alex and I that we should party more and do shrooms and acid in the woods. Whatever Tony. I don't know what you're talking about...
We left soon after the hott gurls arrived shortly after midnight.
I lost my hat. My fucking favorite hat with the DeKalb badge! Tony, if you stole it, I'll fight you.
We didn't get back to the burbs until 2:45 because earlier in the night, we decided it would be better to park in the loop than in Lincoln Park. Man, I love CTA, but those trains run soooo slow at night.
So now, I have tons of new buzznet friends, and probably more blogger friends, which means that I'll actually update on a regular basis. Times are super easy now because I'm on break for 5 weeks spending quality time with my parents. Joy!

KK is in a coma

KK is in a coma.
KK is in a coma
KK IS IN A COMA!
Someone I've known throughout all my high school career is now in a coma and might not come out of it.
KK, you're stupid!

Why didn't I go to school in Miami?

Today sucked hard. It's cold and the wind sucks. Suck suck suck! Plus, the school "Cafe" doesn't know how to make coffee. It wasn't even hot, and the barristas knew it too because they didn't put the cardboard wrap-around...thing on! Bastards.
And one of my finals is going to take away my soul. The class needs a diaper for this one. It's expected to run from 8:45 to at least noon. Food is also not allowed during the exam. AHHHHH!!!!!
I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'M GOING TO DIE! Do you hear me? Die DIE DIEEEEE!!!!!
I've officially freaked out.
You're all invited to my funeral.

there's no place like home

I genuinely missed home today.
The Bears played at Soldier Field today. Plenty of suburbanites came to the city today with all their garb and the grills in Lincoln Park were fired up.
This would have been a day when my dad cracks open a Sam Adams at 2:00 with maybe a friend or neighbor. I would be in the sun room reading or doing homework. Elliot and Jo would be in their rooms or on the computer. Mom would be in and out of the kitchen, probably cooking chili or soup. Every once in a while she would call to me to chop or wash something, maybe set the table.
That is the perfect Sunday at home and I miss it.
I know I'll be home soon enough. I just have to get through this week and then it's six weeks off. But I know when I get home, I'll just be itching to go back to school.

Ravi Fuckin Shankar!

I didn't even know I was going until this morning! Fucking Alex likes to keep things a surprise.
The man is amazing. He's been my hero ever since I saw the Concert for George. At 75 he can still "rock" on the sitar and compose beautifully complex orchestrations. Not to mention his improv (which is what he mostly does) is like nothing I've ever seen before. At one point towards the end of the concert, he played a minute or so of variations on Yankee Doodle. I kid you NOT!
Not to mention his daughter, Anoushka, is beautiful and incredibly talented as well. And the tabla player, Tanmoy Bose, is not human.
Simply A-mazing.

Sickness

Alex and I are never drinking again.
Bleh!

Penny for the blind

I think I'm a terrible, awful person.
I've probably said that before, but didn't mean it, or said it in a completely different context, but this time, I'm pretty damn sure I'm going to hell.
There are bums/hobos/street people in the city. That's a fact. I walk past them everyday. Not even Lincoln Park, one of Chicago's poshest neighborhoods, is impervious them. They rattle their cups or try to sell you Street Wise, and you walk past them without batting an eye lash. But yesterday was different.
There was a man wearing semi-dirty clothes outside the Fullerton "L" stop with a box full of red roses. At first, I couldn't see how much the roses were, and I most definitely walked to the far left (wrong) side of the sidewalk so he wouldn't try to heckle me. That's when I noticed the sign. Please, Donate to the Blind.
Immediately, my thought was, At least he can't see me.
And then I realized how terrible of a person I am.
This all happened around 3:00 pm while I was on my way to choir rehearsal. Three hours later the man was still there selling roses for the blind, still half smiling, and my self worth dropped even lower.
Honestly, I didn't have a penny on me! Otherwise, I would have donated to redeem myself. They were nice roses too...
Maybe I'll go Oedipus Rex style and gouge my eyes out and walk through the world alone, in exile.
Well, at least I didn't fuck my mom and kill my dad...

The City is on FIRE!

THE CITY IS ON FIRE AND I'M RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF IT!
The Sox winning the Series is like the apocalypse here in Chicago. A happy apocalypse. The kind where everyone gets into heaven.
The streets are going wild. People screaming, cars honking and honking back at each other. No one will sleep tonight.
This is pure mayhem.
God bless Chicago!

SOX

Because I'm living in Chicago and the White Sox are in the World Series, I'm supposed to be interested in sports.
I don't really follow baseball. If it's on and my dad is watching, I'll ask him who's winning and who's sucking. At least I understand the sport, sorta.
Technically, our household is a Cubs household, even though my father was raised by a South Side. Something about the Sox trading my grandpa's favorite player and never forgiving the team, so he switched and started cheering for the Cubs. You would just have to know my grandpa to understand the significance of this trade and his sour disposition on everything. And if you ever expressed interest in the Sox, he would rip into you and tell you that you're wrong and how awful that team was, and you're stupid for liking them. He wasn't a very nice man in the later years of his life.
Anyway...
The city is Sox crazy. Even though where I live is on the North side, people are going CRAZY! On Saturday night, I thought the entire city would explode with excitement because they won their first series game. Flags everywhere, cars honking, people shouting. Ridiculous.
But I don't care. Yeah, the Cubs are the golden team of Chicago, and there's no doubt that the Sox are the ugly South Side stepsister, but nonetheless, the Sox are still the home team. You have to be proud of them, and pray to God that they're smarter than the Cubs and not blow a three game lead.
Go SOX!

Down with Wilco

I had class until 10:40 today, so I couldn't order Wilco pre-sale tickets right at 10 like I wanted to. I didn't sign on a computer until a little after 11.
1 hour 15 minutes, probably much, much sooner, all tickets SOLD OUT!
I can't even describe how pissed off I am.

Wilco Tickets

Wilco is playing a benefit concert for the victims of the hurricane on November 1.
I'm going.
Don't care if I have to go alone.
I'm going.

Purple Line

The Purple Line in Chicago is a mysterious beast.
The line used to run through the loop clockwise, regularly. It was beautiful, especially when traveling to DePaul University because there was no circling.
Well this spring, CTA had to make some cuts because there wasn't enough money floating around, so the beloved Purple Line got cut except during rush hours.
It just so happened that yesterday I was downtown during that time and was lucky enough to catch the elusive Purple Line for a ride back home. Only problem was the train was packed! I've never seen the L that full before.
Not only did the sardine can thing freak me out, but earlier in the morning, a Brown Line (or maybe it was Red, I don't remember) jumped off the track. No one was injured, but morning rush hour was hell for many.
Anyway, because the train was so crowded, I stood right next to the doors. Unfortunately, however, there was nothing for me to hold on to. All I could do was push myself against the divider wall. But when the train takes a sharp turn, it don't do jack shit! Consequently, I smashed into a cute little Indian lady not once, but twice! And I mean smash as in smash. I knocked her back several feet, into the crowds of people.
I felt awful and apologized profusely. She said it was ok, but once the train thinned out, she moved away from me, to a safer side.
You can say whatever you like, but I still love the CTA.

Homecoming

I've done a terrible thing, punishable by death in my standards.
I went home for homecoming.
I didn't even realize what I had done until I got ready for bed last night.
Last year at this time, I wrote a piece about how I hated alumns for coming home and telling me how great college life was, and how they were a bunch of losers for doing so. Now, I am among their ranks. I am disgusted with myself. Especially since I verified going to the homecoming game to see the marching band's new field show (which was cool and worth sitting through). I lied to myself! I really wanted to go home and see my old friends, only it turned out that the people I really wanted to see weren't there (but of course, Abby, I love you unconditionally and came to the game just to see you...).

So now that I'm back home in the suburbs, I have to learn how to drive again, and come to terms with my complete and utter boredom here. My entire day today was spent grocery shopping with my brother, and playing with my sister's stupid hamster that escaped from its cage today. We found it.
I don't know what I'm going to do in December when I'm home for the entire month. Maybe I can go through the winter quarter so that I don't have to come home.
No, I wouldn't do that. Family is more important despite the locale.

joys of fullerton

Alex and I are high school buddies. We go all the way back to awkward Freshman year. Now, we're attending the same college. It's ridiculous how close we are. Everyday, we see each other for at least an hour. If he's not in my dorm room, I'm in his (probably to the chagrin of his roommate). Our dream is to own a house in the area (mucho dinero!) and live together. We've even started calling each other husband and wife.* Our marriage is officially recognized on facebook.com.
Anyway, Alex and I caught a movie tonight, the Corpse Bride to be exact at the Three Penny Theatre. It's an...interesting place. The center focus was slightly askew which pissed me off, but other than that, it was a precious movie, not as good as Nightmare Before Christmas, but good enough. But this isn't a place for a movie review...
While walking home, it suddenly occurred to me that I lived in Chicago. My long-time dreams of being a metropolitan are finally true. I live in the heart of the city and I'm loving it. The bustle and noise of the streets flows through my veins and into my soul. I feel like I'm dreaming most of the time. "This can't be happening to me," is usually my thought. But it is happening to me. I really live in the greatest city in the WORLD!
During my first two weeks of school, my mother decided to tell people that I didn't go off to college, but rather, that I had gone to Heaven.
At first, I was slightly offended. How dare my mother let people assume that I had died, and my mother some creepy devout Christian.
But it really is heaven here, heaven in the form of college. How could I have gone anywhere else?
*Alex is gay.

Sudoku

An evil force has wormed its way into the heart of Chicagoland, an evil, addictive conspiracy, much like cigarettes and cocaine. This crazy fad I speak of is Sudoku, or Su Doku.
The concept is simple, and really doesn't require any mathematical skill, but the numbers are everywhere. It's like a crossword puzzle, but numbers. A newspaper or Sudoku book or Sudoku online will publish a box filled in with the occasional number. Your job is to "Fill in the grid so that every row, every column, and every 3x3 box contains the digits 1 through 9." (sudoku.com)
Simple enough, right? WRONG! It has to be one of the most frustrating one-person game I've ever played, but people are going crazy over this number game! My best friend Alex was the first person I knew who seemed really hooked. He's amazing at any inane game ever invented (Boggle, Scrabble, Set, Gauntlet, Worms). Now, he's so good he can complete an entire puzzle correctly in five minutes.
Every day I see at least one stranger playing Sudoku, and even more if I take mass transit of any kind.
Over the weekend I went to Borders and an entire table was devoted to Sudoku books.
But now that I've done some research, it's not just Chicago that has been affected. Earlier this year, newspapers in London started publishing Sudoku puzzles, and in the mid 80's the Japanese (who didn't create the game but gave it its name today which means "single number") devoured the 81 little boxes.
This week, according to USA Today, three Sudoku books made the top 50 best sellers list.
I'm not completely opposed to Sudoku, I just can't do it. I don't have the logic or the patience to fill out the puzzle.
Try it for yourself. The least it can do is drive you insane.

Purpose

I have decided that this blog will be dedicated to the people I meet and see while in Chicago. I already have a couple of stories about strange people here on the streets.

Starting over

I just deleted my long-time blog, toofrumpyforthem.blogspot.com, but I feel that I have grown out of it. No one wants to hear a whining teenager anymore.
And so, for the time being, there will be this one. A no pressure sort of blog, a blog that hasn't found its purpose yet.