To The... Volume 1

When I get writer's block, I look to other blogging phenoms for inspiration. My sorority sister's sister, who was also in my sorority (got that?), writes a blog that is absolutely hilarious, called EmmasThing. It makes me laugh out loud and after I do that, I get jealous because I don't think I make anyone laugh out loud.

Anyway, she has started a brilliant series that I am going to borrow when inspiration hits. I've been saving up for this blog and taking lots of mental notes as to what include for this round. It's pretty comprehensive.

Here we go.

To the...people who take the elevator to the second floor. Really? Are you that incredibly lazy, fat and stupid (or a combination of all three) that you can't just walk the 10 stairs up to your floor? You do realize that it takes you longer to wait for the elevator and wait for other people to get on the elevator than it would to just walk up a flight of stairs, right? Obviously you don't, because you've now effectively wasted a solid 2 minutes of my day based the fact that you're dumb.

To the...biker who yelled at me last week as I stopped my car to let a PREGNANT LADY WITH A STROLLER cross in front of me. Fuck you. I realize the NOSE of my car was in "your lane" but guess what, you don't have the right of way. Bitch.

And, to the...biking population in general. You suck. Why do you get to blow through stop signs and stop lights and generally, not abide by general traffic law? Why do you cut cars off and then swear at them? Why, lady on the bike, are you wearing a dress on a bike? Why are you sir, wearing a full suit? I guess I just don't understand.

To the...trend that is flower pants. No. Just no.

To who told me earlier this week to "have a good Monday." If you didn't understand my murmured reply, it's because I didn't understand what you said to me. It was so fast and so quiet, I legit thought you were a crazy person muttering under your breath. But, after I realized a few minutes too late what you said, it made me smile and I appreciated it. It's actually been a real shitty week, so maybe you jinxed me, but I did appreciate the well wishes.

To the...women who wear sneakers with skirts. I get that comfort is key but have you no dignity?

To the...homeless people who shake their cups with change at me. That does not make me more empathetic or sympathetic or any other 'etic' words for you. In fact, it makes me mad. I have given my fair share of money to homeless people. But I'm not giving it to you because you're just being rude. And also, if you're actually homeless, you should not be picky when I offer you my leftovers and you say that you don't like macaroni and cheese. I mean, beggars can't be choosers, right?

To the...pregnant people on Facebook. I am very excited for you that you are pregnant. Pregnancy is a miracle. Do I need to see your status updates every single day about it? I don't. Can I say I won't do the same thing when I'm pregnant? No, I guess not, but I also think that I'll know better. Your bump is cute, don't get me wrong, as are all of the creative ways people tell the world they are pregnant. So are the little sonogram pictures, and I even like knowing if you are having a boy or a girl. It's just all the other stuff - that really annoys me. Feel free to quote me on this when I do the same thing when I'm preggers.

To the...Michigan Avenue tourists. Have you ever seen a building before? A homeless person? A Coach store? Anything remotely interesting, ever? Seriously, go home. Walk faster. Get a look, move along but mostly, get the eff out of my way.

To the...rats in the city. You are vile. Straight up disgusting. I wish there were snakes in the city to eat the rats, and then mongoose would eat the snake and something would eat the mongoose and so on and so forth until there was nothing left but kittens and puppies.

That's all I got. Happy Thursday, ya'll!

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The Weekend That Kept on Giving

Hey ya'all! Apologize for the delay. With the holiday last week and having family in town the weekend before that, time has gotten away from me.

Speaking of the weekend family was in town, those three days were pretty much a sh** show and some of the key highlights must be shared. The stories I can remember anyway... (Can I swear on here? Will anyone bleep me?)

Friday night, my sister, Jessica, two of my friends and I hit up Ravinia Park to see Gavin DeGraw and Colbie Caillat. I love Ravinia. If you've never been, you must. You can buy tickets to sit in the Pavillion, but I personally recommend lawn seating. You bring blankets, chairs and a picnic and just relax. Some people even bring entire table and chair sets, complete with table clothes and candelabras. To each his own...

In any case, between the four of us, we consumed three bottles of champs, two bottles of white, one bottle of red and a thermos of a vodka drink. Needless to say, we were feeling no pain by the time we got back to the city to meet up with our significant others. When we got back, my husband was already in bed, so we took the real partiers to the bar across the street. Cue another bottle of champs and a round or two of shots.
That photo is about as blurry as my memory. (That's me with Sara and my brother-in-law/step-brother, Klint. That's a different blog).

Anyway, fast forward to closing time, when in typical fashion, I decided I was hungry. I asked the bartender, whom we had made friends with, if we could have some tots. Alas, the kitchen was closed. I thought it logical to ask if we could just have some frozen tots to take home. Alas, the bartender said no way.

I punched him.

We left the bar, smuggling cans of champs out as we went, and walked across the street to Papa John's, where none of us really remember going. Except Klint, who dropped his smuggled champagne on the floor. (This after he dropped his beer into a woman's purse at dinner earlier in the evening). We went home and chowed down on pizza and leftovers from Ravinia. I woke up in the chair, with RJ on the couch and Sara sleeping upside down in the other chair. Fail. (Or is this really a win?)

Saturday we had tickets to a rooftop for the Cubs game. A rooftop for the Cubs game means that you spend less time watching the game, and more time eating and drinking all that you can consume in 7 innings. Suffice it to say it was hot as balls, so we were drinking beer like water, instead of drinking water. We took rickshaws home, if that says anything, and made the drivers race.

(That's Jessica and Klint, losing in the rickshaw race.)

We decided to be mature and go home to shower up and have a nice evening out. That translated to showering (everyone except RJ that is), continuing to pound beers and going to dinner at Half Shell (aka the best place in the world.) We indulged in crab legs, switched over to wine and liquor and continued to imbibe.

Jessica and I took ourselves home around midnight, leaving the boys to fend for themselves. Next thing I know, I wake up again on the chair (much earlier this time) and head to bed, only to be woken up around 3am to Klint banging on our back door. I let in an incoherent RJ, who stumbled face first to the air mattress. Klint ate about half a box of Papa John's cheese sticks while I went back to bed.

An hour later, I heard Jessica yell, "KLINT! ARE YOU SERIOUS!?" She storms into my room, letting me know that Klint is vomiting all over the room. Not the bathroom. The bedroom. The floor, the sheets and as we later found out, the air vents. He swears it was not the alcohol. As he cleaned up his own vomit, Jessica stayed up, had a glass of red wine and watched The Hangover II.

Sunday morning was interesting. The entire house reeked of vomit. RJ was comatose until about 1pm, as was Klint.

But the best part of Sunday morning was hearing Klint tell us about what we missed after we went home. From about midnight until 3am, Bryan, Klint, RJ and Weber went on a little bar crawl. At the first place, they drank something called a "Darth Vader," which they likened to a Long Island, but which had Jager instead of coke. As if drinking for about 12 hours straight before drinking that poison wasn't enough, it gets better.

At the next bar, there were video games. When they couldn't find my husband, they found him playing Mario Brothers by himself. Then there was RJ, who apparently fell down and was so bloody, Klint had to take him outside to clean him off so that he could continue to go out with them. And by go out with them, I mean, they said it was "basically like 'Weekend at Bernie's.' RJ was so hammered, they basically propped him up wherever they went. I love the image that puts in my mind.

I forgot to mention that Jessica successfully lost her iPhone on Friday night.

So, why the weekend that kept on giving?

To start, I had a headache that started on Sunday afternoon after everyone left and did not go away until Tuesday.

Second, on Monday I got the following email from Klint:

A nice man named Bob has found Jessica's phone.  He found it Saturday lying on Damen Ave, Bob thought it got rained on. Using his experience as a dishwasher at a nearby retirement home, he took the phone back an put it in a bowl of rice.  He then attempted to find stores on Sunday after work that were open to charge the phone.  Unfortunately they were closed when he arrived.  Today is a new day, the store was open, the phone is charged and now he has called me.  If one of you could pick up the phone from the clear store before 8 pm that would be great, it looks like it is north of your place on Western Ave and Lawrence.
And lastly, not only did I open the dryer to find vomit stuck all over the inside, but on Tuesday, as Bryan and I were cleaning our place, we noticed a horrific stench in the guest bedroom. It was coming from the vent. We opened it and found vomit ALL OVER the inside of the all the way down. We took turns alternately gagging and cleaning the vent with a toilet bowl brush, that's how far down it was. It took 4 times to get it all. As the stench still wasn't gone, we have had to keep towels stuffed down the vent to keep the smell away. Now, about 3 weeks later, we think it's gone.

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