schwoosh

I was just thinking...



That's about how fast it goes by.


Unsoliciated advice to myself for 2009:
Don't blink. You may miss something important.

a christmas carol v2.0

Like I needed more reasons to adore Aimee Mann.

The soundtrack to Magnolia.
Her (nearly) unsung, but pivotal role in The Big Lebowski.
Her cameo in Buffy The Vampire Slayer (the series.)
The idea that she is related (even by marriage) to Sean Penn. (I'm extremely curious what that family holiday might be like.)

I could go on and on listing the many reasons I dig Aimee Mann.
Instead, I am telling you to sit your ass down and watch this:




I do not know how much farther out of my way you expect me to go for your crippled son, alright?

You tell Tim, from me, "Bah Fucking Humbug."

Delicious.

And when hubby Michael Penn gets in the act as Marley?

A: What what what what what what? Michael Penn? You've been dead for weeks. Oh. I know. It's a bad dream. I must have eaten like some bad yogurt or something.

M: Aimee, your yogurt did go bad, but that's just a coincidence. I'm really disappointed in you. Doing shows for yogurt and juice and deodorant. You're kind of becoming a whore.


The fog machine alone makes it worth watching.

Part 2 here. (the weakest section...keep watching anyway.)
Part 3 here. (it picks up speed again)
Part 4 here. (best ghost of xmas future ever...plus more fog machine)

I promise this is worth the 15 minute time commitment.

And if you don't know who Aimee Mann is...well, you have bigger problems than I can solve, brother.

Merry Christmas! Now get offline and enjoy your holiday!

my xmas wish for you

Sometimes, you just have to laugh.




As it has always been, day in and day out, since days of olde...my cynic's mind will once again battle with my optomistic heart.

There is a little chunk inside me that believes that no matter how crappy the economy gets or how shitty people can be towards one another be it in a war zone or mall parking lot, we all have the capacity for good and that the universe will unfold as it should.

And nothing reminds me more than a night's veiwing of my all time favorite movie.





One of my favorite lines is a throw away line that Uncle Billy says in his frantic rambling. I normally don't like when writers try to tie in the title with dialogue, but for me this is really what the entire message of the movie is about. Listen for it when he spills the basket of money.

Isn't it wonderful? So many friends!

I love this movie. I watch it all year long (not just at xmas.) I've probably seen it more than any other movie in my lifetime. I have so many memories of home and holidays tied to it - as I'm sure a lot of folks do.

One memory is a few years back at WNEP, when we had our theater space on Halsted. That year, we put up a tree and threw a big party with a potluck dinner. We had a grab bag and at the end of the night, we set up a big TV and all sat and watched It's A Wonderful Life.

Timed to perfection, just as the scene came up with everyone bringing in the money to give to the Bailey's, a friend of ours (who looked quite a bit like a young Jimmy Stewart) came running in, dressed as George Bailey, carrying a basket full of dollar bills yelling, "Merry Christmas Movie House! Merry Christmas WNEP! Merry Christmas you wonderful old Theater!"

He dumped the money (a donation of one hundred dollar bills) and ran back out.

We were all laughing and cheering and crying and it remains one of my favorite Christmas memories of all time.


So to all the sweet folk I know...for all the holiday annoyances and family drama and travel nightmares this season can bring...what I wish for you this Christmas is a memory that can fill you up with laughter and goodness.

Sooner or later all that other stuff falls away and it's the memories of a Jimmy Stewart look-a-like running in and yelling, "Merry Christmas Emporium!" that make it all worthwhile.

Have a safe and lovely holiday folks!
I love and adore you.

xoxo

rebar


Note to Amy...please tell your hubby I continue to be thankful for witnessing that moment.

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

IT'S HERE! IT'S HERE!



And all the world is right again...


The hard part will be saving these for my New Year's Day of recovery and DVD watchin'.

a cynical winter's day

I rolled the dice and drove to work today.

The seers are predicting another 2"-10" of snow over the next 24-36 hours, depending on who you listen to and where you live.

[rant/]This is one of the shitty things about living in the city and working in the burbs*. While the city may get a couple inches to dig out from, my office will get 5".

While the main arteries in Chicago may be clean as a whistle, the burbs can end up looking more like the side streets that get one plow per month.

And while there is a public transportation option to my office, it includes a bus, a train and yet another bus (which only runs 6 times a day. You heard me.) So, you can't run late, the bus can't run late and the train can't run late. Which is what happened on Friday. (No train.)

As I listen to some friends who rarely (if ever) leave the city proper claim, "it's not that bad," when the seers predict a few additional inches or back-to-back storms, I want to knock folks (who dismiss the weather) into a snowbank and give them an old fashioned winter swirly.

They haven't spent 2-3 hours quality time in an auto on icy slick, unsalted, unplowed roads, after which spend an additional 20-30 minutes (or more) trying to find a parking space.

To those who do not drive outside of city and/or do not own a car, I say, STFU about the snow.

And yes. It is my choice to own a car.
It is my choice to work outside of the city.
It is my choice not to take public trans (even if the freaking train is over an hour late.)

Yes. I screw myself with these choices.
You're absolutely correct.
Now...STFU. [/rant]

Needed to purge. Apologies. We're already having one of the wettest years (rain/snow combined) and one of the coldest, snowiest winters on record. Which is great if you're 9 and get a snow day, but sucks if you're 39 and are working in a f'ed up economy.

What I started to write about was my drive in this morning.

I dug out my car back on Friday when the snow fell. Then the temp dropped to sub zero averages and everything froze (we're talking single degree temps with -33 wind chill.) As I tried to drive out of the now solid ruts of ice my car was trapped by, my wheels spun round and round. Much like the famous bus.

I tried rocking it. I tried to shovel additional snow/ice out of the way. I got the barest hint of traction and progress...and then got stuck ON the icy rut. Joy.

All the while, a car sat patiently behind me, like a vulture, waiting to pull into the space I was to vacate.

After about ten minutes of me in and out of the car...and perhaps coming to the conclusion that the girl with orange scarf was S-T-U-C-K....the waiting driver finally got out and offered to help.

Granted, it was equally for his benefit. The sooner I was gone, the sooner he could park...in the sweet, shoveled out (but icy) spot I had to offer.**

After pushing didn't work, he did try something with my shovel, which gave me just enough traction to rock myself out. It took another few minutes, but I finally got farther up on the rut to let physics work it's magic and I got out of the space.

I said "thank you very much" and "Merry Christmas" and tried not to think about finding a new spot when I get home tonight as I pulled away.

Please Baby Jesus, Let there be many people who are leaving/driving to a holiday destination and will leave plenty of parking spots for the rest of us jerks. Thank, ye.

So, yeah. The guy helped me, but only after getting tired of watching me muck around for a good 10 minutes or more. And yeah, there was NO WAY I was getting out of there without some kind of assistance.

I think it was 55% good deed, 45% selfish act.

So, part of me wants to be all, "The city is such a bastion of good will!" and the other part is like, "Hell, if I wanted the [bleeping] parking spot, I'd [bleeeping] get out and push [bleeping] too!"




*I just got a call from an office in Bolingbrook (about 45 min south of my office) that closed down due to the snow falling. I was told, "We can't even open our front door. We're sending everyone home now, before it gets worse."

**I'm one of those folks who is not a fan of the "crappy lawn chair marks my spot." I believe that if you own a car, and plan on moving it from Nov-Mar...and it snows? You should dig out the spot around your car. Not just drive away. Not half ass it. If everyone dug out, we'd all have parking.
Call me a commie, but that's what I believe. So, even if I'm the only one on my block who does it? Sure, maybe I'm a sucker. But I'm a sucker with a clear conscience.

I believe that, much like voting, if you don't shovel, you can't bitch.

guilty pleasure

It seems like nearly every day, I get another call or hear about another friend who's getting laid off.

When people cheerily ask me "How are things, goin' with you?" I want to clock them. I know it's more out of habit to ask that, but really...look around! Things are freaking rough out there. I feel like I'm juggling and dancing and at any moments all the plates that I'm spinning will come crashing down on top of me.

And I've still got my job.
Good times. Good times.

Well, today, we had our annual end-of-the-year team lunch. It was decidedly dressed down compared to prior years, and to be honest, I was stunned that my boss gave the green light to even a cheapie lunch out on the company dime.

One of the youngsters I work with brought up the plan for a $20 grab bag. I've been watching most of the nickels I have left, so I figured that I would skip it this year. I mean, I really wasn't all that interested in exchanging a bottle of good tequila for a gift certificate to Starbucks/Dunkin Donuts/whathaveyou.

Last night, as we prepare ourselves for the onslaught of nature kicking our frozen asses yet again, I stopped at the grocery store to stock up on provisions. Milk, soup, tomatoes and a box of Little Debbies. I can't survive the storm without that little brat making good with the swiss rolls.

As I careened through the aisles, my brain started to tick about the grab bag and the next thing you know, I'm blowing good money after bad and putting together a holiday survival kit.


Rebar's Holiday Survival Kit:
Candy Canes. Check.
Nestle's Hot Chocolate Mix. Check.
Mini-Marshmellows. Check.
Breast Cancer Awareness Mug. Check. (Only mug I could find at the Jewel)
Hiram Walker's Peppermint Schnapps. Check it.
DVD of the 1969 made-for-TV holiday special, The Littlest Angel. Check.

As they say in merry olde England, "How's that for a slice of fried gold?"

If you've yet to swim in the delights that a hot mug of chocolate spiked with peppermint schnapps, stirred to perfection with your candy cane swizzle stick can offer?

Baby, get on board, because the joy of the season is passing your ass by.

Swimming in that mug, while watching Fred Gwynne, Cab Calloway and Tony Randall kick out the heavenly jams? This is the blessing you have prayed your whole life to receive.


Back at lunch....we did that version of "grab bag" where people can "snatch" your present. I was, er...the snatchee. At the end of the game, I ended up with a gift wrapped in newspaper - which, while a very green choice - gave me a bit of deja vu for a christmas some years back where I got stuck with a gift wrapped in some paper towels.

But that's a story for another day.

To my delight, I opened the giant box and after much digging, found a sheet of paper to serve as my gift certificate...to Amazon. For $25 large, yo. The giver, feeling somewhat shamed for not having bought an actual gift, threw in an extra fiver. Sweet.

I've been pining for The Thin Man Collection. All SIX of the Thin Man films! Every now and then, I check over at DeepDiscount.com to see if they put it on sale. I know $40-50 isn't much, but when you're trying to pay down your bills...I just could never pull the trigger.

And that's when the Baby Jesus showed up.

Amazon had the DVD set for a mere $26.99.
With free shipping, yo!

I was more than happy to pony up the extra $1.99!


And now the guilt sets in.

While I know I couldn't pay my bills with an gift certificate...

...money's tight with my sister, maybe I should have gotten my nephew an extra gift.
...or given it to someone who just got laid off, who could use it more than myself.
...perhaps bought a toy for a sick kid who's laid up with a bald head in the hospital.

I'm sure I'll get over it, but all of a sudden, spending that $25 on myself makes me feel like a grade-A heel.

Ho. Ho. Ho.

me heart noir

A holiday lesson for us all...



Hint: This looks even better in that new widescreen setting on youtube.

file under: eye roll

I was going to opine about how much I would personally like a shot at throwing my shoes at Bush.

About his cavalier attitude about this presidency and the ravaged state he is leaving this country in - the economy, the wars, the continued non-response to Katrina (and other disasters), and his lack of concern for the body count he has accrued both in American and Iraqi lives.

About how offensive and repugnant his behavior, attitude and "leadership" continues to be to me.

How each minute he has left in office is yet another opportunity for him to open his mouth and damage this country. It literally will not end until January 20th.


But, then I read this on Crooks and Liars.

JoyceLynn Aryan Nation Campbell, Honszlynn Hinler Jeannie Campbell and Adolf Hitler Campbell.

Good names for a trio of toddlers? Heath and Deborah Campbell think so. The Holland Township couple has picked those names and the oldest child, Adolf Hitler Campbell, turns 3 today.

This has given rise to a problem, because the ShopRite supermarket in Greenwich Township has refused to make a cake for young Adolf's birthday.

[Jaw hits floor. Picks up jaw. Repeat.]


Here's a photo gallery of the family domicile.
It's very Early Colonial White Trash.

Christ on a stick! It's one thing to make the decision to be a complete hate-mongering douchebag. Putting swastikas on your home, your body, your car? All your choice.

But to name your kid Adolph Hitler? Or Aryan Nation?
Game over, Shithead.
That is completely off-the-charts Bullshit.

(And I pronounce "bullshit" like I would imagine Matthew McConaughey would do it in Dazed and Confused. Just so these folks can grasp my complete meaning.)

The Campbell's have swastikas in each room of their home,
the rented half of a one-story duplex just outside Milford, a borough in Hunterdon County. They say they aren't racists but believe races shouldn't mix.

. . .

The Campbell's said they wanted their children to have
unique names and didn't expect the names to cause problems. Despite the cake refusal, the Campbell's said they don't expect the names to cause problems later, such as when the children start school.

I'm trying to imagine the delivery room, when the baby boy arrived and the father turned to the doctor and nurses and proclaimed that this infant shall be named after the biggest mass murder of all time. Would it be wrong to call child protective services even before they left the hospital?

I mean, those kids are in for a world full of hurt.
Especially when they go to school.

Heath Campbell said some people like the names but others are shocked to hear them. "They say, 'He (Hitler) killed all those people.' I say, 'You're living in the wrong decade. That Hitler's gone,'" he said.

"They're just names, you know," he said. "Yeah, they (Nazis) were bad people back then. But my kids are little. They're not going to grow up like that."
. . .

Robert M. Gordon, a clinical psychologist in Allentown, said the names would hurt the children.

"Certainly society is going to be hostile towards those kids, especially when they go to school," Gordon said. "By the time they get to school, they will already have been damaged," Gordon said.

"Any parent that would impose such horrific names on their children is mentally ill, and they would be affecting their children from the day they were born.

Only a crazy person would do that."

Hey there, Heath, is it? Why don't you, the "adult" who seems to be so in love with your cause, legally change YOUR NAME? Why don't you go to the grocery store and sign your checks, head over to the DMV for a new license, drop by the bank to deposit your paycheck and show up for jury duty with that name? You know, the name you seem to be so in love with?

Just leave the toddlers out of it.

The most insane part is that they feel so wronged, so slighted by ShopRite having the balls to say, "Uh. NO."

Hang on.
This next bit might ratchet up the insane quotient a wee bit.

Young Adolf Hitler Campbell will be getting a cake from Wal-Mart this year.

Hold. The. Muthascrathin' Phone.

Does that mean that Wal-Mart is willing to personalize the cake?

The Campbell's say Wal-Mart made cakes for Adolf's first two birthdays. A spokeswoman for Wal-Mart said the store won't put anything illegal or profane on a cake but thinks it's important to respect the views of customers and employees.

"Our No. 1 priority in decorating cakes is to serve the customer to the best of our ability," Anna Taylor, the spokeswoman, said from Bentonville, Ark.

I have a lot of reasons why I don't shop at Wal-Mart, but I do believe that this might shoot to number one with a bullet.

To sum up...




Even Jesus is rolling his eyes at this bullshit.
(click to enlarge Jesus' annoyance.)

baby, it's cold outside

I'm back! I got a little wrapped up last week celebrating Blago-gate.
Also, knitting, drinking and avoiding the icy embrace of winter.

Speaking of priorities in frigid weather...who'd like to get in line to stone this idiot?

On a day when temperatures hovered near single digits, a
suburban mother left her toddler in a cold van while she
went shopping Monday, police say.

Pamela J. Weberski left her 20-month-old son in her car
with the heat and ignition off while she shopped at the
Target store, at 300 S. Randall Rd., in Elgin, authorities said.

An off duty firefighter who happened to park next to the vehicle spotted
the infant in the car.

Weberski's husband, Dan, said the family made a horrible
mistake and now they are paying for it. He said the child had
fallen asleep and his mother didn't want to wake him.

One police officer said the air temperature was 8 degrees, with
-11 degree windchill, at the time.

Authorities said Weberski was Christmas shopping and had
been in the store for about 25 minutes. Weberski, 43, was
charged by Elgin Police, accused of endangering the life of a
child. She was released after posting a bail of $100.

Listen, I grew up in a childhood void of: seatbelts, helmets, car seats, bike lanes, baby monitors, safety gates, outlet covers, faucet covers, child-safe aspirin bottles, cabinet/toilet seat locks, sun shades, table corner cushions and the like.

We had night lights and Bactine, people. That's it.

Leaving a toddler asleep in a car with temperatures in the single digits? It was 9 out when I was leaving for work yesterday and got to a high around 15 (but not until 3pm.) I COULD NOT GET MY CAR DOOR OPEN yesterday due to the icy temps.

I wouldn't leave my dog alone in my car for 20 minutes in this kind of weather...and she's got a fur coat!

And yes, I do leave Olive alone in the car sometimes.
But, not when it's 90 degrees in July or 9 degrees in December. WTF!


You know, I could ALMOST be understanding, if this was some young, inexperienced mom...but this was a 43 yr old woman. At that age, if you don't have the common sense to figure the equation:

Baby + Below freezing temps + 25 minutes = Poor Parenting Choice

If you can't add that much up, then you really should consider sterilization.



Besides....Blago Baby is the only one we should be leaving out in the cold.



Note: I do not approve the "Obama link" on this doll.
That's 100% bullshit.

We're Number One!

We are the Land of Lincoln.
The City of Big Shoulders.
Former Hog Butcher to the World.
And on days like today...we are the Stinky Onion.

Some wise ass updated the Wikipedia page for Chicago.
Stating, in bold:

Chicago (pronounced shi-KAH-goh or shi-KAW-goh) is the largest and most corrupt city in the United States city by population in the state of Illinois and the American Midwest of the United States.

Har-dee-har, asshole. That said. Turns out it's pretty spot-on. Every time we look to be moving past the "political machine" that this city was built on, a new beetle crawls out from under the rock.

Our current governor, Rod Blagojevich (D) has completely outdone our former governor George Ryan (R) - who is currently serving time for corruption, mind you - by the breadth of his illegal "pay for play" machinations.

Hell, they gave him his own page on Huffington Post!

Which goes to show you, greed is not about party affiliation. It's just about you being an arrogant bastard who thinks he can pull one over on an entire state and get paid while doing it.

I'm thrilled he got arrested. Our state needs an governmental enema. Now, if my secret boyfriend US Attorney Patrick Fitzgerald, who arrested Blago at the crack of dawn Tuesday AM, (and who also convicted Ryan) would do me a favor and turn his laser focus on our Olympic-obsessed Mayor Richard Daley (D) and our County Board President Todd Stroger (D)?


If we could cut the corrupt heads off our hydra in a domino-like fashion, the underlings might take notice that the times, they are a'changin.

These arrests come too few and far between. But, if they [bleeping] started to start slicing and dicing the big guns, I think that this [bleeping] city (and [bleeping] state) might have a chance to clean out it's [bleeping] gutters.

And while our Congress never had the balls to impeach Bush, I'm hoping that Illinois can show them how to show a corrupt official the [bleeping] door.

And God Bless Stephen Colbert and his writing staff. If you haven't seen their response to Blago, it's a must. (And it has one of the best interviews of Charlie Kaufman I've seen.) Rock on.

Update:

Hey! Turns out that today is Blago's 52nd birthday!
Don't forget to wish that mother[bleeper] a happy [bleeping] birthday!!


Quote of the day: (Atlantic Monthly) "Incredible. Blagojevich was already under investigation. And then he tries to sell Obama's Senate seat? I don't think I've ever seen anything like this. This dude tried to auction the Senate seat of the President-Elect of the United States. Wow. They haven't even invented a machine that can calculate the Fail Factor here. I do believe we have gone to Interstellar Fail. Intergalactic, perhaps."

FACT: You can see his arrogance from space.

When vanity attacks.

Here's a truth about me. I can, at times, get a bit obsessive-compulsive about very specific things (with the exception of housework. Housework is unarguably evil and it must be destroyed.)

If you're a regular viewer, you know that I spent most of November toe up. While I showered (most days) and brushed my teeth, I misplaced my tweezers and my eyebrows ran wild.

Wild, I say!

After two weeks of saying, "I'm sure they'll turn up, today," and then tossing my place, I finally broke down and bought my 24th pair of tweezers.

Some people lose socks.
I lose tweezers.
It's my fatal flaw.

I must have at least 7 pairs squirreled away in my tiny home. Of course, I can't find any of those, either.

Much to my delight, after said purchase, I came home after work and went to town on my unruly brows. Mmmm...and to my horror...in my lust to "clear the brush,"...I went a bit...overboard.


I went from a full-on Frida (and I looked waaay more unkempt than Kahlo.)




To a pencil-thin Gloria Swanson in a matter of minutes.

Actually, Gloria looks pretty adorable there.

If I'm really honest, I think I went 6 miles beyond overboard and crossed over into the land of Sunset Boulevard.

Please. If you run into me over the next few weeks, avoid direct eye contact for both our benefit.

Someday, I'm going to let the Seether out and she will pluck my brows bare. Someday. [shiver]

Oof.

WARNING. This video is NSFW (repeat NSFW!)
Did I mention it's not safe for work?

But, it's pretty damn funny.




So wrong.

Happy Saturday!

I can't go back to jail.

If you are a Chicagoan, I dare you not to laugh your ass off.

[For you out of town folks, I worry that you'll miss many of the spot-on local references...just to clue you in, Walter E. Smithe Furniture has been a Chicago staple for decades.

That's Smithe with an E, is as ingrained in our psyche as 588-2300...Empire! or Rockabye your BABY, Hi, I'm Harry Schmerler your singing Ford Dealer. All of which...again, likely lost on you.]

Schadenfreude is a fantastic sketch comedy group in town who have more than earned their due (get off your ass Comedy Central...or better yet, HBO.)

This makes me laugh every time I watch it.
Fantastic delivery by all.



Emmy...with an E from Schadenfreude Media, LLC on Vimeo.

For more Schadenfreude goodness, head here.


Nod to D-Ray. I can't keep up with all the websites I should be paying attention to.

this one goes to eleven

What are the six words I want to hear most in the world?





David, I've got cake.
Woo Hoo!

at odds

Please don't look at me.
I feel like I should sew a letter on my chest to proclaim my shame.

I feel prey to the oldest of taunts*....and I opened a Facebook account.

Admittedly, I am one of those folks who squints her one good eye in technology's direction and marvels at its possibilities to transform, while at the same time holds it at arm's length, knowing that one false move could set you on a course where it's 5am and you just spent the night staying up playing [insert popular gaming system...because in my case, it's just PC games and I'm still working on GTA: Vice City because I can't get the fucking helicopter to drop the freaking bombs when I tell it to, so I yelled at the screen for a while and haven't played since. Like 9 months ago.]

Here's the thing...Facebook feels rather creepy to me.

I mean, I have friends. The people you call at 10pm when your dog turns up missing and help you spend the next several hours hunting every farm house, out house and dog house looking for her. The ones you call at 5am to help jump your car. In -17 temps. The people who, as a bridesmaid, you are willing to go toe-to-toe with a self-obsessed in-law just to give the bride/groom a barrier from "the crazy." The people who save your bacon on numerous occasions and you happily return the favor. The people who have seen you at your best and your worst and still stick around because it turns out more often than not to be pretty entertaining.

I have friendly folk. The people who you know to be quality humans...and when you spend time with them, you think, "Why don't I spend more time with [insert name] because they are awesome and my life would be truly the better for it." And then six months goes by and you run into them on the el. So, instead you have a beer with them on rare occasions when the moon is full. The ones, while delightful, you would never consider waking up at 2am because you lost your keys and need to crash on a sofa. But, they are delightful all the same.

I have the friendly associate types. Folks you've worked with and think are rather keen, but have rarely shared more than witty remarks and maybe a drink. Ten years ago. The ones that leave a lovely impression upon you, and you might set them up with that guy you know from that thing. But, you're not standing up in the wedding. And they are on they're entirely on their own with "the crazy."

Basically, Facebook makes me feel like I'm stalking my friends (of all strata) and the last thing I want is another nickname. My Collector days are long past.

I made the preemptive decision to leave my High School/College/Work info off (at least for now.) I figure, the folks from those arenas, who I want to keep in contact with (or try to keep in contact with) I already keep in contact with - even if I only see them every 3-4 yrs.

While I might be curious on some level to find out where Molly G. (my BF and locker mate freshman year) ended up in life, I've already heard too many tales of "Uh...everything was aces until [insert crazy HS enemy/friend/date] called. So, maybe that wasn't the best idea."


Hey. I'm all about connecting up with folks and meeting new friends of friends. But, I'd rather initiate it the old fashioned way.

At a bbq where I'm half in the tank.

Is it wrong to think that at 39 I shouldn't be wasting my time wondering if anyone will write on my wall today? What the fuck is the whole "wall" thing about anyway?

Damn you, Facebook creators!
I curse you and the html you rode in on.

Dude. I'm so old and rusty, I need an oil can.



*As I mentioned this icy morn in the courtyard, "You'll get yours, B. You'll get yours."

Goooooooooooooooooal!

With the advent of the economical upheaval, there is a lot of talk lately regarding "goals." Business goals, career goals, political goals, personal goals. On TV, in the next cube over, on the radio...it's like a non-stop loop in my head.

I have no other choice, but to think about goals.

On the personal front of "what everyone is supposed to want", I'm rather complacent.

Marriage? While I do have several friends who have what I consider to be really good marriages (a healthy work-in-progress relationship), I could probably name more that haven't. Like all things in life, you take your chances on the roller coaster.

Some folks love it. Some folks throw up. Some folks throw up and still love it.

I was never the little girl who fantasized about her wedding day. Thought about it? Sure, on occasion. But, I've probably spent more time fantasizing about working at a Vermont post office while solving murders with my boyfriend, the town sheriff, than I ever spent thinking about a wedding day or the man I might marry.

I'd like to think that on a planet of 6 billion, there might be someone I could be down for the long haul with, but he's yet to cross my path. But, I'm not pining away for whatever his name is.

Although, part of me hopes to meet him in line for an actual roller coaster some day...because I dig metaphors.


Children? I remember at the age of 8 deciding that if I ever had kids, I would adopt. That it made little sense to me to bring a child into this crazy world, when there were so many out there that needed a home and folks to care for them. And that I would adopt an older kid, because everyone wants babies. And babies? What a freaking nightmare! They can't talk and you have to change their diaper.

Dude. I would not want to change my own diaper, much less a squirmy kid who might pee on me in retaliation.

Sure, there was about 5 minutes in my mid-20's when I was extremely curious what having a baby growing inside me and giving birth would be like. But that moment has long passed.

Don't get me wrong. I adore children. Honest. In small regimented doses. But, I do enjoy them. They are honest and extreme reflections of their environments. Watching my nephew interact with the world he is presented with (when he's not attached to his X-box) is pretty entertaining. I strive to make an impact on keeping him interested and interactive with the non-gaming world around him.

Nuts to donuts, I tend to agree with my 8 year old self.
If I ever decide to become a parent, I'll be adopting. And none of that Murphy Brown single mother crap for me yo. I'd like a partner in crime if I'm signing up for the parent trap.


Career? I really wish I could figure this one out. Besides my fixation with being a psychiatrist (again at age 8) for a short time, I never really had a compelling plan for a career. (Which explains the ever-growing heinousness of my current job.) Doctor, Lawyer, whatever. I've read that most people have 3 (or more) "careers" in their lifetime. I figure I've still got time to figure that one out.


Truly, my goals have been pretty low brow.

1) Keep a roof over my head. Check.
2) Feed the dog. Check.
3) Surround yourself with friends who are smarter than you. Check.
4) Create a lasting slang word or phrase. (crickets chirping in the breeze.)


I'm not making this up. I've always wanted to be one of those folks who creates a word/phrase that becomes part of our modern lexicon. It's not something I talk about much...when I'm sober.

Several years back, I made a run at trying to get folks to embrace "My karate is for real." Ha. And you thought it was just some idiot blog title.

Some of my other past attempts include "I veto Ralph Macchio." and "Lady Pocket." One is just a fancy way of saying, "Shut it, sucka! No way!" and the other is a term for a vagina.


I want to create the next woot, necker's knob or "Keep on truckin'."
It has been a goal of mine for many years.
I shit you not.


Yesterday, on an email thread, I coined the term, "Lady Court."

A "Lady Court" is basically, an updated, more posh version of "fag hag."
It is, specifically, the group of women who have a central gay male figure in their group.

Ex: Dennis will be meeting up with his lady court at the bbq.


Personally, I've always hated the term "FH." First, the word "fag" - pretty offensive to many folks. I can take it or leave it. I mostly leave it. My bigger pill is with the word "hag."

It conjurs up a MacBeth style witch in my mind.
Old, grotesque, with facial boils and bad hair.
Cackling and shrill.

Now I may cackle and I have more than my share of bad hair days, but I've yet to awaken to a boil and I'm not that shrill.

Loud, absolutely. Shrill, never.

I am not a hag.
I don't know any hags.
And I don't hang with hags. (Finger Snap sfx. Neck rolling optional.)

Anyway, I guess there was a bit of a back and forth about it on Facebook (I wouldn't know, I never hang there) which resulted in my friend Dennis (of who's court I belong to) submitting Lady Court to the Urban Dictionary folks.

Now, just getting published is one thing. The goal is to get it to be a commonly (I'd even settle for rarely) used term that is understood by the majority of the populace. To become part of the cultural lexicon.

Now, I'm not sure if lady court is that word, but, I can't wait to find out.

special report

As I'm checking my email and working on a project, I have the Obama press conference on.

Can I just say, how much better my heart and head feel listening to our next President...talk like a President. And not just him. As he announces his National Security Team, and each steps to the podium to accept their new role, each sounds poised, articulate, intelligent and comprehending the massive task at hand.

They sound like a team. A smart and able muthascratchin' team.

That they are preparing to take on the leadership and direction of this country with the weight and attention deserved.

While I'm still not thrilled about the selection of Hillary for Sec of State, I get it. And I will strive to have the faith in her that Obama has placed in her.

They shall lead by example. With thought and purpose.

January 20th, you can't get here fast enough.

by the dashboard lights

A Poem to Celebrate our First Snow in the City.


It's been snowing a bit in Chicago.

I got up this morning.
I bundled up.
I dragged Olive out for a walk.
We didn't even make it halfway down the sidewalk when she made the turn back for home.


I scrapped the ice off my car while the engine warmed.
I strapped myself in and began the slow crawl out to the burbs.
I turned the radio on and the Fleet Foxes began to play.

It put me in the best possible mood one could be for what would be a long ride in and a long ride home later today.

And then I looked down.
My dashboard was lit up like Xmas.
I wasn't even at the expressway yet.
I immediately turned home, realising that I didn't have much more than $20 on me.

I parked outside my building.
As I prepared to run in and grab my CTA card and a credit card, I stopped.
I realised that I can't afford to deal with the car today.

And now I am working from home.
Annoyed at this economy and my part in crapping it up.
Bemused with the beast alseep at the other end of the sofa.

And since I have a roof over my head,
And believe that this (bullshit) too shall pass,
And know that the marble with continue to spin.

I will listen to White Winter Hymnal again and find my happy place

Dashboard lights
You win this round
But I shall win the war






I was following the pack
All swallowed in their coats
With scarves of red tied 'round their throats
To keep their little heads
From fallin' in the snow
And I turned 'round and there you go
And, Michael, you would fall
And turn the white snow red as strawberries
In the summertime...