Rehearsal Is The Best...

Or at least everything that happens up until rehearsal...I kid. I kid.

Today before rehearsal for All The Way To Chicago (Sundays in March, 8pm, Donny's Skybox), James made dinner for Tahnee and I.

::insert picture here::

I took a picture of it with Tahnee's camera because I forgot mine. I suspect I'll receive the picture from her sometime next week or the next week.

I went to go see a friend's show at the Playground after dinner and hopped in a cab to rehearsal. I have always been pretty fortunate to have interesting cab rides. This one was no exception. My cabby was extremely talkative...I found he has been driving a cab for 30 years, he has to renew his chauffeur license next month, he is an astrologer and his moon is in Libra therefore he should work one day and rest the next. Earlier that day he had helped a blind man up the stairs into his apartment. He told a lot of jokes. The best joke he told was, "I don't want to buy a cab. I don't want to be married to a cab, too hard to get through the bedroom door." As I exited the cab he apologized for not having any jokes about coffee shops.

Strobe Parties Are Back Ya'll...

Sooo...this weekend was a lot of fun. It started off better than I could ever have imagined.

For those of you who know about my neighbor "Melanie," you know the only word for her is: amazing. She runs around nude frequently, hosts a naked picture night, hosts naked dance parties in front of her computer (did somebody say webcam?) and her world famous strobe parties are an event not to be missed.

After Reader's Theater on Friday, I went straight home because I had to be at work at 5:30am the next morning. My neighbor above me was having a party so my rest was disturbed. Then I began to notice the flashing lights, the loud screams of joy and pain, and the extremely loud top 40 music. There was only one explanation. I looked through my window, across the courtyard, and there it was: the strobe party back in full glory. It had been since December when she had a holiday themed party complete with red and green strobes. This time she had also purchased a spinning disco light. I have no idea how many people she fits in her tiny apartment. My record is 8. Some might think that I would be upset by her strobe parties because they are loud and the lights bling right through my window, but I love them and I don't know why.

Tonight my friend Brian and I had our second Piano Bar night. It was even better this time because both of my songs were played. Both. I will not comment on the fact that I was chastised by the piano player for requesting Hold On by Wilson Phillips. Besides, he knew every word.


That picture is from our first night. I just wanted to give a visual. The staff at the bar had to dance for everyone for part of the evening. Brian and I then composed a list of jobs we would never want to work on a napkin. I lost the napkin. So this list is from memory:

1. Server at Howl at the Moon
2. Planned Parenthood
3. CTA worker
4. ?
5. The puppet guy on State St.

I can't remember #4. Damn it. And that was one I came up with. I know that napkin is around here somewhere. I'll find it and get back to you.

Why Saturday is the Best Day...

I have Project Writing Class with Jeff Griggs every Saturday. The past two weeks our class was kicked out of our happy writing room at iO because of "scheduling conflicts." This is why class should be held in a classroom:



This is also why I look forward to Saturday every week. You guys rock my socks off.

Miss T...

Like the song...get it? I have another question...Is it just me or does anyone else get really annoyed when they sleep in, wake up, turn on the T.V. and iVillage live is on? Am I the only person who really hates that show? Please say no...

Tahnee gave me a flower last night. We were in Walgreens and I saw her pick up a gigantic fuzzy flower. I asked her who she was going to give it to and she became rather coy. I thought maybe she was buying it for a boy. As we left the store...she gave it to me. Isn't that sweet? I love flowers. People don't buy them for each other enough. They always wait until something bad or something wonderful happens. Why not just buy people flowers because you can? Because you can...anytime.


P.S. Don't start watching Grey's Anatomy. Don't be like me and get sucked into it. Please. I was happily rolling along with my Thursday night date night with John Krasinski, and then I decided to expand my horizons. I have now spent three Friday mornings in a row crying in front of my television...damn Grey's.

Yikes-a-bee...

Am I the only person who has seen Win A Date With Tad Hamilton on multiple occasions and enjoyed it? It's okay to say yes...

It is beautiful outside. My apartment is especially sunny because, since it's winter, the tree outside my window is leafless causing tons of the happy sun to filter through it's branches. It feels great. I can wear a light jacket. It's so preeetty.

Do you want the truth? It's making me a little uncomfortable. I'm not ready for winter to be over. New seasons/weather means change. I'm not ready for change. I am very comfortable in my little wintry cave. I want to still be dreary and bundled up. So hurry back winter. Hurry.

Tuesday Tuesday Tuesday...

was yesterday. Before rehearsal for "All the Way to Chicago" (Donny's Skybox, every Sunday in March @ 8pm), some of us got together to watch the Blues Brothers. We didn't actually watch much of the movie, but the boys got to experience my tea and blanket love.

We really spent a lot of time discussing and observing my across the courtyard neighbor,"Melanie." Three words: naked, ferret, dancing.

Wish you were there.

801...

On my way to delivering a box of chocolates to my partners at unnamed coffee shop last week, I ended up giving the box of chocolates to the employees of my favorite pizza place. The guy working the register wrote the number 801 on receipt paper and slipped it to me. I don't get it. Do you?

You want to know what else I don't get? How in the world my time in Chicago has become such a...flashback? It all started a couple of weeks ago when I heard that someone was hating on me at a bar because I went on a date with their friend and didn't ever call him again. I will say right now, the date was great. The guy is a very nice guy and not too bad to look at either. There just wasn't anything there...can't be helped. I would have been more of a jerk if I'd kept going out with him. After this "bar" conversation I proceeded to get dirty looks and whispers from some of these people. What did I do?

Again, yesterday I ended up in a stupid ninth grade-style argument with someone I really don't want to fight with. I care about this person and it was stupid. It was all because of some conversation that, once again, I wasn't there for but apparently was about me. It's not my fault my friends open there mouths sometimes and give too much information on things that don't matter anymore. I had nothing to do with it and it somehow ended up being my fault. It's over now and everythings fine.

Even this blog is sounding ninth grade. I give up.

On a slightly lighter note: I put a post up a while ago, that no longer exists, with a video of me making fun of people asking people out on MySpace. I took it down because...well, I had been drinking and no one needs to see that side of me. Ever. In truth I have no problems with people asking people out on MySpace or e-mail. It's kind of cute actually. I was having a discussion with someone about this on the phone yesterday. I logged on to my space (your welcome...) and a total stranger had put the moves on me in a MySpace message. It wasn't creepy or anything by any means...but the timing was...pretty perfect.

Can I just say that it is warm outside and it's February? I beginning to think all you people who took such time and care to warn me about Chicago winters were just trying to fool me. Either that or it still rings true that I bring heat.

It's a beautiful day. If you don't have to work get outside NOW. I did. I feel good.

God is Laughing at Me...

I don't blame Him really. I don't.

I have been very out of sorts lately. The most random things keep happening, and they all keep connecting, and I feel like the universe is playing some huge game with me. Really. I don't necessarily mean that in a bad way either. I don't. I happened to come across my horoscope in the new Vanity Fair. It struck me as strangely accurate, so I e-mailed it to my friend Tahnee. My mom and I had a long talk this morning about everything and the kitchen sink, two hours later she calls me and says:

"I just happened to read your horoscope in the new Vanity Fair...have you read it?"

Oh mom.

Here it is:

"The ancient Greeks had at least three words for love, and considering your odd emotional state, it would be wise to look them up and see which one best describes the way you've been feeling. Not that it would do much good to analyze what's in your heart. Fifth-house transits of outer planets and asteroids make it impossible to be rational. Fortunately there are people around you to distract you from your goofy reverie."

Yep.

I should note that my mother never reads horoscopes. I don't read them often either.

To read the above is to know me right now.

Does that make sense?

Let's do lunch.

If I break out into hysterical laughter mid-meal, don't judge. Just love.

Happy Thursday To Me.

Today was my day off. I took myself to breakfast to refresh myself. It was marvelous.

Happy Heart Day...

That is me on Valentine's Day. I worked, handing out candy all morning, and then went straight to work at unnamed coffee shop until 10:30pm. It was a long day. I was forlorn for most of it because it was cold, snowy, my feet were wet and my back hurt. I'm not much of a complainer though. I made it through in one piece.

I came home to watch Lost and then ended up watching Oprah. Did anyone see Oprah? I taped it so that I could see the rest. I love happy couples...they make me cry. I took two Benadryl (to attempt and curb the sinus problems I have suddenly become plagued with again) watched Oprah and cried at all the happiness. The good kind of cry. And it was fantastic.

On a slightly different note, is is just me or has everything been couple/romance/engagement/marriage related for the past month or so? Almost since Christmas really. I swear, every time I turn on the T.V. it's something about one of those topics OR I run into someone or talk to a friend and every conversation relates to the opposite sex and some huge event. Whatever happened to work woes and family troubles? Why is everything suddenly love-related?

Boo love.

I'm only kidding. :)

The 13th Was My Unofficial V-Day...

I worked all freakin' day out in the snow. I handed out chocolate to people because I am a whore for money. More like, I am broke. Poor. All that. It wasn't so much cold as it was windy and snowy. My eyes were stinging. I gave some chocolate to a family and then took their picture for them. A few moments later the dad came back and told me to put my hand out. He put a small piece of chocolate in my hand that read "Kiss Me." He wanted to make an exchange. Then he told me I was pretty. Ego boost #1.

#2 came when a man asked me if I was handing out kisses. Since I was so brainwashed by Hershey's at this point, I said, "No, but this Cacao Reserve is better than a Kiss!" Thinking of Hershey's Kisses. Nope. He was thinking of real kisses. Once I became aware of this I politely declined.

#3 was when the Otis elevator repairman checked out my ass. I don't have much of a booty, so when it gets checked out I get excited. If only the cute, wealthy businessmen with good health benefits had been checked out my rear. I'm a sucker for a cushiony 401K. I joke. Sort of.

I finally got home around 8pm to find a gigantic box from my parents. My parents have always been my Valentine. I've only had one "real" Valentine and it was last year. Honestly, I remember nothing about it. I might be a jerk or it might have been uneventful. Who knows. Anyway, I couldn't wait until Wednesday to open my gift, so I didn't.


It's a basket filled with a Gingerbread Loaf pan and two Texas-themed cookbooks. I started to cry. I'm not sure why. I love to cook and bake by the way. I'm cheesy.

Apparently I have some perfume coming too, but my dad forgot to mail it.

Grammy Day...

I had rehearsal for an improv show last night, which meant I would be missing the Grammy's. I decided to tape them so I wouldn't miss the most important event of the past decade: The Police. On Stage. Together. Again. I was too young when they were originally together to ever remember watching them as a child. Plus my dad had a thing against Sting until last year...so I'm pretty sure much of the Police's music was discovered later in my life anyway.

My friend James (also in my show and formerly of the best level 2 class iO has ever seen) came over and watched them with me. Before we started we had to do what all music lovers do when they get together for the first time:


Hold an iPod Party.

We watched all of the Grammy's and some of the Red Carpet. I love the Dixie Chicks, but they didn't deserve all the awards they received. Also, Carrie Underwood beat Corrine Bailey Rae for best new artist. Bull Shit. I demand a recount. And the worst part? Carrie didn't even cry when she gave her acceptance speech. She acted like she deserved it or something. For realz?

Quote of the day was made by me (is that narcissistic?). Yesterday morning, on my way to breakfast, I was excitedly telling my friend Adam about The Police performing together.

Adam: I had no idea you were such a big Police fan.
Me: I want The Police to gang-rape me.

I really have no desire to be gang-raped. It's a horrible, real event that no one should ever have to go through.

That being said...The Police rocked the house this evening. It was too short, yes...but if only I could get them in the same room as me...

Oh I'll stop.

Oh Friday...

I woke up this morning and couldn't breathe. I also woke up with a headache. You know those dreams you have that are so real you have to convince yourself they didn't really happen when you wake up? I also had one of those...and I wish it had really happened. Oh boo. I'm done complaining. I have the whole day off after all...top that. I'm also on my second episode of Living Single...top that. Last night I went to see Lily Allen with Alexandra and her friends who are visiting from New York. This is the only picture I have from the actual concert.


Lily had band geeks in polo shirts. I want my own band with band geeks in polo shirts. It always frustrates me to go to a music show, especially those of people who are younger than I, because I can't help but think that I could be doing that. Eventually the frustration turns to motivation and the world is happy again.

The show was great. She's adorable. I wish I could wear a pretty peasant dress and a shiny gold blingy gun around my neck and still look sweet. Maybe I could...

There was this one guy standing next to us who smelled like cheese. Smelly cheese. Gross. There also was this guy with an eye patch in front of us. I think he thought since he had a patch he could get away with pushing, butt rubbing, foot stepping on, and personal space invasion. Later in the evening his friend had the nerve to ask me to move because I was bouncing his butt with my bag. I don't start fights. I was this close. What's happened to me? Chicago, why are you making me violent?

On the way home, I took this picture. Alexandra was cold...if you look you can see her New York friend in the background taking a picture of Wrigley Field. A picture with someone taking a picture in it. How cute.


The best part of the evening was the fact that the venue is smoke free because of that 'ol Chicago clean air law of some sort. When they announced this the entire place erupted into....cheers. That's right. The crowd was happy about the clean air we were going to consume. That made me happy. I smiled. I hate smoking. I really do. I hate it because I have never forgiven my grandpa for dying on me as a baby. The other one died long before I was born so this one was my only hope. Unfortunately, he smoked too much and drank even more. Unless you are driving drunk, drinking doesn't normally harm the people around you. You light a cigarette and you have also harmed the guy standing next to you. My grandpa had emphysema. It eventually killed him. I've never had a grandpa for that reason. Damn ciggys stole my only chance. You're an idiot if you smoke. It's true. I will still love you though. One thing I should mention is I steal them. If I know you smoke, and you bring me anywhere near your cigarettes...I will snatch them when you are not looking and throw them away. I will. That costs you more money and makes me laugh when you get pissed because you can't find them.

Be warned.

I Hate To Admit It...

I still think that for some reason I don't need glasses and my eyes are going to magically get better. My eyesight isn't really that bad, but it has been really tough for me to admit that I can't see far away. I just can't. Especially at night.

Now is about the time I should make a formal apology to everyone in Chicago and especially at iO. I lost my glasses a few weeks ago and I really need them when I go to shows. Since I haven't had them lately I have basically been squinting my way through the theater trying to make out who is on the other side of the room. This can be a good thing sometimes. People who I don't want to say hi to I don't have to and when they give me hard time I can just simply say, "That was you! I lost my glasses...I can't really tell who's who from far away. Sorry!" Now...the one thing I have to remind myself is not to stare at someone for too long. Eventually if I stare hard enough I can figure out who is across the room from me...but by that point if the person catches me staring they find me creepy. I know it.

I went to the eye doctor yesterday and got new glasses finally and yes, contacts once again. When I walked in the door to my building, my old glasses were sitting on the floor beneath the mailboxes.


I have no idea where they came from or how long they had been there. Or how I missed them sitting there for so long. Boo. Oh well. At least I can watch Amelie from the comfort of bed now and not while standing directly in front of the T.V. And I have two pair of glasses, so now if I lose one (which will happen) I won't be so squinty.

The Friends That Keep On Giving...

My friend Aimee sent me a gift. There was really no reason. She had received some items from a friend that she couldn't use and also found a bunch of make-up that she didn't want. She then sent it all to me, along with some Valentines Day themed candy.

Again I have to ask, what I've I done to deserve such thoughtful friends?

Anyway, it just goes to show...my friends are the coolest. Now if only I had money I could afford to spoil them back. One of these days...

I read somebody else's blog (who I don't know...but I've read their blog...) and this person pointed out how important having girlfriends is to a lady. It really is one of the coolest bonds a girl can have. There is nothing like walking down the street with your best girlfriend(s). There is also nothing like ranting, going crazy and totally over analyzing to your best girlfriend(s) because they will look at you like you are the sanest, most logical person in the world while you talk...and still love you.

Like, Ohmigod Guys...

I'm supposed to be working on an essay for an internship I'm applying for. I'm supposed to be finding a quote to start it off with, making up some crap about movies, send it to my mom so she can proofread it, finish my resume and mail it off. I am actually having a hard time doing this. I am actually really full from lunch and don't know why because I didn't eat that much. Perhaps I need some water.

I got to thinking this weekend which is never a good thing. Well...I was about to type something about how thinking is actually a good thing, but for me I don't think it is. This group of thirteen year-old girls came into my work this weekend. They were loud and extremely obnoxious. Their conversations went something like this:

13yr old girl #1: Ohmigod, Nathan iiiisss going to ask you out at the party. He told me.
13yr old girl #2: Ooohh...It's almost Valentines Day.
13yr old girl #3: OH migod, do you even want a boy on Valentine's Day?
13yr old girl #1: It can be so much fun to have a boy on Valentine's Day.
13yr old girl #3: Oh it sssoooo can be. So what are you going to say to him?
13yr old girl #2: Yes. Duhhh....Jesus, where is my mocha?

From this one little conversation my head went in about fifty different directions. I either had consumed way too much coffee or really needed a nap.

First I started thinking, "Was I like that in 8th grade?"
Answer: Yes. I think so. By that I mean, I did have a tendency to get loud in public. However, I was not ever the girl getting asked out by the boy except for the time Jason Riley followed me to my locker after class. When I said no, he asked why and I said it was because he was, "blech." As in...gross. Mainly because I thought of him as a friend. He thought I said no because he was "black," which he was. Talk about awkward...

Second I began thinking, "If I was thirteen and someone told me my "#1 crush" and I were not meant to be together forever and that in fact I did not know how to go about a "real relationship" at 13 anyway, would I have listened?"
Answer: No. I would have screamed and cried telling that person they were, "so wrong" and that I was "different and mature for my age, duh." It would probably be similar to the time my parents wouldn't let me ride in the car with my friends older brother who had just received his license. They claimed he might be a reckless driver and that we could get in an accident. I screamed, and this is a direct quote, "Well, if I get in an accident and die at least I know it would've been my fault." I really thought that would change their mind. I think they made me leave the room so they could laugh.

Third I began thinking, "Did I know what a mocha was at 13?"
Answer: Nope. Didn't have a Starbucks in Rowlett. Actually, we didn't have anything remotely close. No coffee shops whatsoever. I think there was a bakery on Main Street. How cute...a bakery on Main Street.

Fourth I began to wonder about the elderly people who come into my store. Not sure why... Most of them come in pretty regularly, and some I haven't seen in awhile. I always wonder when an elderly patron suddenly quits coming if maybe they didn't pass away. That thought always makes me sad.

Somewhere along the lines of the "Nathan" conversation I realized that boys never really get less complicated with age. I always thought they would.

There is one thing that has become less complicated: Me.

I'm sssoooo kidding right now.

Dear Boys of Chicago...

The following pick-up lines will not get you a date/get you laid no matter how amazing the delivery may be:

#1. Boy: So, you went to the doctor today? Everything okay?
Me: Oh yeah...everything's fine.
Boy: One of those take a pill for a couple of weeks and everything will clear up just fine? Huh? Huh? (then he chuckles at his own cleverness).

#2. Boy: (whispers very seductively while walking past me on the street) Go Bears.

Both happened. Recently. The second one took place while walking across Diversey. I should also note that not only was the line whispered "seductively" into my ear, but he attempted a little sigh that I think was supposed to be sexy. Key word: supposed to be.

If you respect yourself and your mother, please don't try these at home. If you don't respect yourself or your mother, please don't come near me.

That is all.