Blonde Ambition

As I was on the train home from work yesterday, I resumed my usual habit of people watching on the CTA's yuppified Brown Line. I decided to focus on reading materials today - what are Chicagoians reading? There's the usual Davinci Code, an intriguing book titled Unanswered Questions, and the presumably work-related Advanced Table Creation in an Oracle Environment.

The woman, sitting next to me, however, had the most interesting reading material on the train. She was a pretty, blonde lady, no more than 30 years old, single (so I assume from the lack of a wedding ring), and had a blank page of a notebook open when I first saw her. Over the next five minutes, she proceeded to fill the page with her 'goals'. In order, here they are:

1. Find a new job outside of the financial services industry that pays at least 25% more than I make now.
2. Decide on family plans.
3. Purchase more real estate.
4. Decide if I want a career in real estate or design.
5. Firm up retirement plans.
6. Write a will.

Hey, I am a proponent of dreaming big and setting high expectation for yourself, but can she reasonable expect to accomplish those things this week, much less this month?

I wish her good luck. Just remember to include me in your will, lady.

DMB DNA

The kind people of the Dave Matthews band have offered their DNA to confirm whether or not their excrement was unloaded upon hundreds of unsuspecting Chicago boat riders below. While I think it's noble of Mr. Matthews to share his DNA to determine whether or not his bus driver did this dirtiest of deeds, is he really going to poop in a cup?

Now, some people have bad jobs (garbage man, mortician, etc.), but Poop DNA inspector has to be the lowest of low. How awful is your life if your scrap poop off of someone's soiled jacket to see if it matches some other poop sample?

In honor of Poopgate, I suggest that DMB re-release new versions of previously released songs:

-One Sweet Smell
-Don't Drink the Urine
-Crap Onto Me
-#2
-So Much to Dump
-Drive Over, Dump Out
-Chunkiest Monkey

TSA vs. Dorothy Zbornak

Airport Security. It's always a fun topic of discussion, since the government takeover of airport security has resulted in confiscation of everything from shaving razors to zebra-striped vibrators, and every other "weapon-like" device known to man. Well, apparently my dear friend, Bea Arthur -- you know, Dorothy Zbornak from the funniest TV show ever aired "Golden Girls" -- has had enough of these airport shenanigans. According to this article, Bea wasn't too happy when the TSA workers found a small pocket knife in her bag, and told them that "terrorists" placed it there. You go, funny lady! If only Rose was behind her in line, because I am sure they would have loved to hear about how the farmers "protected" the cows back in St. Olaf.

And by the way, Bea, you really shouldn't wear that much make-up.

Souvenirs

I didn't do much shopping in France but I did find this t-shirt.

Also - I realize the pictures in the post below may not be working. I will try to fix them soon ... Sorry and thanks for reading.

My own Davinci Code

As part of my continued European exploits, I made my first visit to The Louvre in Paris. For those of you unfamiliar with The Louvre (which means you have lived in a cave for the last 400 years), it is the largest art museum in the world. It's enormous; I read that it is over 3 miles to walk around the entire museum. That being said, it is impossible to view the entire museum in one day, or even one week.

Since I know I couldn't see the entire museum (though it would be fun to run through the gallery, keeping score of how many unsuspecting children I could knock down along the way), I decided to see the important stuff - which really means Davinci's Mona Lisa.

The people at The Louvre must realize that most people just want to see Mona Lisa, and get the hell outta there (especially American tourists). To help people accomplish that with great difficulty, they placed the popular artwork on a wall in a distant room on the third floor of one of the halls. Yes, they force everyone to walk past thousands of works of arts (half of which depicts Jesus in some aspect - those Italians really weren't creative in their subjects).

Fortunately, a picture of Mona Lisa appears on just about every directional sign in the museum, so if you can see, you can find that. (Sorry, blind people.) After walking through 10 different rooms, five staircases, I finally saw a long line of people, cameras in hand, waiting to see Mona.

One would think that the largest art museum in the world could find a separate room to put in the most viewed piece of art in? Nope. Mona List is in a 'regular' room at the museum, along with 200 other paintings, most of which are 2 to 3 times the size of the rather small Davinci painting. And, despite the fact there are over 25 signs that show a camera with a line through it, (the universal 'NO' sign, supposedly), people insisted on taking flash photography of the aging lady, over the screams of "Pas de Photographie!" from the helpless security personnel.

The painting itself, is well, rather unimpressive, at least for all the hype it receives. Honestly, I was disappointed. It's small, not very colorful, and expressionless (Yes, I know that's what it's known for. Duh.).

After waiting in line for 20 minutes for my 10 second glimpse of Mona Lisa, I really didn't know what else to see in the The Louvre... sure, there's lots of great art, but after viewing 2,407 recreations of the crucifixion of Jesus, do I really want to see another painting of it? Without direction, I did what any other person would do - I latched onto a tour group. Of Japanese people, you know, the ones that always huddle together, but are still lead by someone who insists on hold a flag or some stuffed animal on a stick just so you know where to follow? I might not look Japanese, but I figure they would probably stop by all the important stuff, right?


Our ever-so helpful tour guide, Satu Ishikawa, pointing out the headless, armless, female scuplture.

I don't even think they noticed when I joined their group - there were just so many of them, even though I was nearly 6 inches taller than the tallest one. It was fun, I didn't understand a thing, but I got to see the "best of" The Louvre.


The Louvre has beautiful painted ceilings. Here's Sakikama taking a picture of it. I was too busy taking this picture that I forgot to get a picture of the actual ceiling. Oh well.

Take a Seat

There are certain benefits to being a man that I must admit I enjoy immensely. Hair that requires minimal maintanance (and cost). No monthly visits from Aunt Flo. And, most importantly, the ability to stand and pee. Well, a German company has invented a product to inform men that they must sit while they urinate. Called the WC ghost, the device discreetly fits on the toilet lid and "speaks" to the unsuspecting toilet user a phrase such as (translated from German)

"Hey, stand-peeing is not allowed here and will be punished with fines, so if don't want any trouble, you'd best sit down," one of the devices orders in a voice impersonating the German leader, Chancellor Gerhard Schroder.

What pleasant words to hear when you've just got a second to drain your bladder. Their English-speaking model says in an American drawl: "Don't you go wetting this floor cowboy, you never know who's behind you. So sit down, get your water pistol in the bowl where it belongs. Ha, ha, ha." I'm not sure who is the speaker for that phrase, but that got me thinking; whose wisdom might prompt American men to sit and pee?

Some possibilities:

"In the interest of national security, and to protect our children from the evils of the world, I ask you to support me in this war on standing urination." -- President George Bush

"It's, um, like gross to sit down on toilet seat that is all wet with pee. Like, so, sit down so that I can pee in comfort." -- Jessica Simpson

"Out of respect for the superior sex, stick your man missile between your legs, sit down and tinkle like the women you should be." -- Margaret Cho

"It's so gross to have my hair get wet from pee when I go to throw up in the toilet (especially when Ashley isn't around to hold it back!), so PLEASE sit down out of respect for me! Thanks Peeps!" -- Mary Kate Olsen

I can certainly appreciate a clean toilet seat to sit on, but to demand that men sit and pee is just wrong. The Europeans may be influencing American fashion trends, but I hope the urinal is here to stay. Stand up for your right to pee, Men of America!

Together Again

After almost 48 hours of separation, my luggage and I are reunited. The reunification took place uneventfully in the hotel lobby last night. As happy I was to receive my bag (well, its contents, such as clean underwear, more specifically), there were still many unanswered questions. Why would he do this to me? Did I say something wrong before the trip? Did I pack him too full, and this was sweet revenge -- to make me wear the same clothes for nearly three days? We were up late discussing his antics, making me envious of his London adventures and even spending enough time in Amsterdam to find a coffee shop (even though I know he hates the taste of coffee) , while I was slaving away at work, smelling about as good as month-old rotten eggs. I'm glad to report that despite spending the night in the closet, we are back on good terms again, though I threatened never to travel with him again.

Hilton Honors

Taking cues from Britney Spears, Nicky Hilton pulled the trigger on the shotgun and married some guy in Vegas this weekend, as her older sister watched with alcohol-induced jubilation. Whatever. I've got nothing else to say.


Juror No. 10, Female, 50, Talk-Show Host, from Chicago

I've got to give Oprah credit for actually showing up for jury duty instead of using some lame excuse (photo shoot for the cover of O Magazine) to get out of her civic duty. It does seem a bit surprising that neither the defense nor prosecution excused her from the trial, given her status. Even more surprising to me is that she actually ate the food in the cafeteria at the Cook County Courthouse. I reported there for jury duty last year, and I wouldn't touch that crap they serve there. I wonder if she called Bob Greene to see if he approved of her lunch selections ...

Speaking of clothes ...

Who really needs them? At least that's what United Airlines decided for me. I arrived in The Netherlands for a couple weeks for work this morning, though United decided that my clothes would prefer to spend some time in London, as opposed to joining me on my flight last night from Chicago to Amsterdam. While I haven't received my bag yet as of Sunday evening, I feel very confident that I will receive it as the friendly United baggage person told me that my bag was likely somewhere in London's Heathrow Airport. Or possibly on a flight to Amsterdam. But they weren't sure. And since it has distinguishing characteristics, like being a black roller bag, I'm sure it will be easy to locate. I'm now hitting the 36 hour mark of wearing the same clothes, anticipating I will be wearing the same dirty jeans and sweaty polo shirt to work tomorrow. Where's Febreze when you need it?

Maybe I should just go to London and try to find my bag at Heathrow. That would be a fun game - trying to locate a black bag in one of the world's largest airports? It would probably be as easy finding your Jetta that is parked somewhere in Lincoln Park... thousands of possibilities!

Fashionista

One evening this past week, I met up with some friends for a couple of drinks and to listen to some live music. Regardless of the fact we met up after the sun went down, an unnamed friend - let's call him Ben - shows up wearing an Adidas sun visor with obnoxiously large Gucci sunglasses resting on his head, above the visor just enough to see the rhinestone Gucci logo. When I asked why he was wearing such head wear, I was told that it was "the look" he was going for. The look of what? Auditioning for the "Sunglasses at Night" video? Not one, but two absolutely useless, and status-shouting symbols? It was reminiscent of my visit to L.A. in February, when the winter chill had dropped temperature to a sub-arctic 65 degrees, which meant every other women had to dress for "the weather" with knee high boots, 20 feet wool scarves around their necks, and mittens. It's all about the look, right?

Another disturbing fashion trend that has arrived faster than a hurricane into a trailer park are "ponchos" for women. Personally, I always thought of ponchos as something you wear during a rain storm, so I think the term "shawl" should be used. Grandmothers across America are celebrating that their crocheted handiwork has a use aside from collecting dust on bed in a guest bedroom. Apparently, women are so tired of exposing near every part of their body legally allowed (ala Britney Spears and Janet Jackson) that they are now covering up half their bodies with the equivalent of a bed blanket. It's time to put the ponchos back on the bed where they belong.

Other fashion trends that need to stop now:

• Wearing wrist sweatbands (especially just one) when not working out.
• Flip-flops as formal wear.
• Exposed midrifts for those who have a little too much midrift to expose.
• Ties as belts. Ties are for necks, or wrists, if you're into that sorta thing.

Election Fun: Who wants Moore Bush?

Not So Fortunate

Yesterday, for this first time since I started my new job, someone brought in 'sweets' to share with the office. After hearing about the shared goodies, I had thoughts of brownies, Nestle Tollhouse Chocolate Chip Cookies, and cinnamon rolls running though my mind. What did I find in the kitchen? A bowl of fortune cookies, the only edible food product that has a shelf-life that exceeds Twinkies. As I was hungry enough to eat cardboard, I grab one, excited more by the life-changing fortune than the stale, tasteless biscuit.

"You are a person of culture."
Well, thanks for telling me something I already know. How is this a fortune? According to Webster's, a fortune is “a prediction of destiny or fate.” Well, this fortune cookies contains a statement, not a fortune. Stupid fortune writers. They obviously dropped out of school and were forced into child labor at the cookie factory when they reached the age of 10.

Disappointed by that so-called fortune, I took another cookie from the bowl. Did this one help me find direction in my life? Well, if eating is my favorite activity (which, I can't deny it is not), then "You love Chinese food" would be a fair statement to make. Could they have written anything more self-serving and demoralizing that is still NOT a fortune? It's actually brainwashing, telling me that love their product so much, I should come back and buy more. I felt like Ralphie in "A Christmas Story" who was so excited to get his Little Orphan Annie Secret Decoder Ring, only to discover that the message is a crummy commercial for Ovaltine.

If I want to be brainwashed with advertisements, I will watch "The Terminal" again so I know to fly United, shop at Borders and Brookstone, and eat at Baja Fresh.


Best Missed Headline of the Day (thanks, Kim): "Don't Drink the Water"

A Taste of Chicago

Buses must be the hot topic today. First the train-shutdown that sent me a on a bus today, now I hear about the warm welcome to Chicago that some tourists (and a handful of city-dwellers and suburbanites) received on Saturday afternoon. I have always wondered why the lift bridges over the Chicago River had open slots. Now I know - tourist elimination. I am sure that tourism in Chicago will skyrocket when these people return home to Evansville, Indiana or Cedar Rapids, Iowa and tell all the folks how they got human waste dumped on them while visiting the big city.

Speaking of tourists, have you ever noticed that people usually say that all the great shopping is one of the reasons they visit Chicago? Where do 90% of these people shop? The Gap on Michigan Avenue, Abercrombie in Water Tower Place and Borders on State Street. You know, the exact same stores that are in your typical American mall, but with a 2-3% higher sales tax rate. Stay home, buy the same damn clothes, and stop walking down the street 6 across on the sidewalk at the same speed as a '74 Ford Pinto low on gas, blocking me from getting somewhere I really need to go.

Eternal Love, an Open Bar and a Train to Nowhere

I spent my weekend in the land of cheese and porn (aka Wisconsin) for a college friend's wedding. Overall, it was an elegant event, with all the bells and whistles (like passed hors d'oevres) that say "we spent a lot of damn money on this thing, so you better get us an expensive gift," straight from the bride's (parents) heart. At the risk of losing another friendship, I will provide color commentary on the day's events.

• Of all the bridesmaids dresses in the world, did the bride have to select dresses that looked like a yard of fabric wrapped around each woman, like a seaweed-wrapped piece of sushi? They were about as flattering as Whoppi Goldberg's nun outfit in Sister Act.
• Catholic weddings are great because you can show up 15 minutes late (who knew that Saturday afternoon traffic would be worse than Friday afternoon rush hour?) and not miss a beat since there is still another hour left to read some more prayers, light some more candles and drink some more wine (only if you're Catholic, that is).
• Jazz bands are great at a jazz club. Jazz bands that play songs from the 1930's and 1940's that no one under the age of 75 recognize aren't fun at weddings. Especially when there is an open bar and people actually want to "dance." And the guests are taking full advantage of the open bar.
• My friend Ashli decided to bring her boyfriend to the wedding. He's a fun guy, though his repeated grabbing of my ass during the reception (and at the bar afterwards) made me wonder whose bed he really wanted to sleep in.

It's Monday morning. There's no better way to start to a week off than with no train service. I have a great commute - 10 minutes via the L. I live two miles from my office, so I could walk there in 30 minutes if I needed to. The Brown Line was shut down this morning, sending throngs of yuppies and trixies and guppies onto .... CTA buses! What should have been a 10 minute commute turned into a 45 minute lesson in urban diversity, with the scents of Ralph Lauren and Clinque mixing with Fubu and Jean Nate to create an aroma that could cause small children to pass out. Happy Monday.

Whatever happened to playing catch?

Conversation between friends:

Ben: "Life is so boring here in California, Matt."
Matt: "Totally, dude. There's nothing to do."
Ben: "Playing video games used to be fun, but we beat them all. What should we do today?"
Matt: "Dunno. I was just watching the news ... that war in Iraq is crazy stuff."
Ben: "Yeah, man. People getting blow up in cars, getting their heads chopped off..."
Matt: "Hey, that gives me an idea...."

Comments on the beheading story:
1. This makes American Funniest Home Videos seem like good, clean fun.
2. Video cameras are way too cheap.
3. If a photographer is coming over to take pictures, PLEASE put some clothes on or at least perform some basic manscaping. Thanks.

Super Freak

On the very same page in the Tribune, the "Look Ahead" column lists the upcoming concert for Rick James scheduled for September 18th. I would place money on the fact that this show will be super cancelled.

Fresher than Fresh.

Living in a big city like Chicago, there are a plethora of activities to fill a weekend. The challenge is usually deciding which street festival, concert, play or bar to attend. To keep myself informed of all these events, I generally read the Friday section of Chicago Tribune; the Planner generally has a worthwhile overview of the events going on around Chicago over the next week. Among the typical concerts (Josh Groban) and book readings, I saw one event that immediately caught my attention -- "World Breastfeeding Month Celebration" at the Lincoln Park Zoo on Saturday. Since I can't find a link on the Tribune website for this, I will provide the Trib's analysis of the event:

"The Chicago Breastfeeding Taskforce celebrates this glorious month with a day of activities designed to promote the importance of mom's milk. Enjoy raffles, games and refreshments(!) while talking to representatives of local health departments, hospitals and community organizations about the benefits of breastfeeding."

It had to be a joke. "Games" and "refreshments" to support breastfeeding at the Zoo? Since children are likely reading this website, I won't spell out some of the thoughts that went through my mind. Are there races? Taste testing? You get the picture.

After spending hours doing research (well, twenty seconds thanks to Google), I discovered that this is in fact a legitimate event. According to the Chicago Breastfeeding Taskforce's website, August's event is just one of the many monthly events that the organization plans to support breastfeeding. Some of the organization's other events:

• Herbs and Breastfeeding
• Freedom to Breastfeed
• Breastfeeding and the Holidays

Unfortunately, I won't be able to make it to Saturday's celebration at the Zoo. If any of you are able to attend, pick up some refreshments for me. And I want to thank the Tribune for listing this as one of the 'must attend' events in Chicago for the weekend.

Lunch with God.

One of my morning rituals (after hitting the snooze button on my alarm clock six times, trying to find two matching socks, and stopping at Jamba Juice for a yummy over-priced smoothie) is to check my Hotmail e-mail account. Even though I check e-mail right before bed, and every 5 minutes during the day, I am convinced that someone will have sent me something very important in the last seven hours. As with any typical day, all my new e-mail was sent to my junk mail folder, meaning none of my contacts felt like writing me at 3 a.m. Since I anxiously await for the day my 8th grade sweetheart will find my email address and write me, I always skim through the junk mail folder (which averages 125 messages a day).

This morning, among the other junk e-mails for cheap Viagra, Hot Teenage Girls, and Mortgage Refinancing (for the home I don't own), I saw the subject line "Lunch with God." Did God finally answer my prayers and agree to meet for lunch? Did he accept my appointment request on Outlook? Before I opened it, I thought to myself, where would I take God for lunch? I'm sure he wouldn't want anything too spicy or garlicky since I am sure his schedule is full of meetings, prayer sessions and divine interventions. Would he be a meat-and-potatoes type of guy (or girl - maybe God is female?) or maybe sushi? Since this could be his/her first trip to Chicago in a while, something local like Giordano's or Portillo's for some Italian beef would be best.

Before I made lunch reservations, I decided to read the e-mail. Much to my disappointment, it was a link to a joke. Not even a funny joke. Something about kids in a park. It's not even worth repeating. And suddenly, I was free for lunch.

World's Smallest Car

Last week, while eating a Cold Stone creation, I saw a Smart Car on Wells Street. The car drew much attention while parked. I over heard comments like "I didn't know a car could be so small!" and "Can you really drive a car like than on the street?" While Smart Cars are all over Europe, I have never seen one in the U.S. before. According to the Smart Cars, website, Smart Cars won't be on-sale until 2006, so someone must have imported this one.

For those of you unfamiliar with Smart Cars, they are the world's smallest car. It only has room for two relatively small people, and maybe a messenger bag. It is honestly no larger than a golf cart, yet has all the attributes of a regular car - like a roof, windows, car stereo. And the price is right.

Then I thought to myself, would I want to own a Smart Car? It's certainly a novelty, something to talk about with your friends. But size does matter - would I tired of having a car that would hold anything? It obviously has a small gas tank that would need to be refueled often.

There are advantages. The ability to perpendicularly (maybe it's word?) park the car on the streets of Chicago. Never again would a parking spot be too small. And since the engine is so small, the gas mileage would be great.

In the end, I decided size matters. Maybe I would rent a Smart Car for the weekend, or even a week, but I would only buy a full-size automobile.

You're (not) hired!

Due to the fact my staff person is leaving the company, I have been spending several hours the past few days interviewing candidates as her possible replacement. Based on this eye-opening experience, here are a few of my interviewing tips:

• If you have already left your last job, don't spend time telling me how great your job was when asked "why did you decide to leave your last job." You obviously quit or were fired for a reason.
• Spending the first five minutes of the interview telling me how you were "hot and sweaty" because you were running around downtown looking for a Kinko's to print out your resume right before the interview is not a good way to make a good first impression.
• Future career goals should be more detailed than "whatever the market needs."
• Don't tell me you are looking for "work-life balance" when you worked 9-5, five days a week in your previous job.
• If you are taking a candidate for lunch during an interview, resist all temptation to go to a sushi restaurant. Especially if using chopsticks is not in your skill set. Nothing says class like watching a piece of raw tuna do a mid-air somersault into a bowl of a soy sauce.

Show me your ...

Two flying-related stories are in the headlines today:

What not to wear (when flying).

Words not to write while on an airplane.

Krupnik, Fireworks and Marionnettes

On Friday night, after a nice dinner at a Tapas restaurant, I went to a going-away party for a friend's co-worker. The host has lived and worked in Chicago for the past two years, on a exchange from Poland. We were served Krupnik, a Polish honey liquer. Apparently the host assumed that we were 'big' drinkers as she pours us half-full plastic cups of this stuff. Even upon sniffing it I was getting drunk. At first, Krupnik tasted sweet, until it hit your throat, when my throat began burning, and I could feel the flames work their way down into my stomach. After nearly finishing the cup out of respect of for the host, I took a look at the bottle. It was 80 proof - the same alcohol content as Jack Daniel's whiskey. Saturday was a painful morning for me...

Since I did not see fireworks this past July 4th for the first time since I was 3 years old, I went with some friends down to the Venetian Night on Chicago's Lakefront. I must say, it was a pretty darn good fireworks display. It was synchronized to music, though the $9.95 Radio Shack speakers attached to the light poles to broadcast the soundtrack really didn't make it more than five feet into the crowd. Aside from the poor sound, it was a great evening, only to be capped off with dessert at the Signature Lounge on the 96th floor of the John Hancock looking over the city lights.

Thought Fahrenheit 9-11 was the last of the political films before the November presidential election? Nope. Marionnettes have a starring role in "Team America: World Police" from the creators of Matt Stone and Trey Parker, creators of "South Park." (which, by the way, is in its eighth season.)

Roughing it at the Hilton: No wonder Nick Carter broke up with Paris after making her match her outfit with black and blue. (Editorial Note: As previously mentioned, I am not fond of Paris Hilton. However, anytime that she looks like a fool, I will be happy to report it here.)