Not this old or crazy yet

My coworker showed me a website of postcards (emails, IMs) from Mom.

They are too funny. My faves so far:

I WILL BE TRACKING YOU.
Well i have 2 more bookkeeping clients to finish, then i have to go home and make a kranz, clean the floor again, make your bed, cover the presents in my closet, clean my bathroom, and watch your flight online. lol. kinda like a package arriving. I WILL BE TRACKING YOU.

And another whose PS was:
I love O'Bama

Olde (with an "e" because it's Christmastime)

In conversations about personal style with friends, we have sometimes referred to mine as "grandma chic." (Though lately, I have been more "French cowgirl." Don't follow? That's okay; it is unrelated.) Lately, I have just been feeling kind of grandma. I'm not dressing any differently, but I feel as if I'm getting old. Maybe not grandma old, but at least mom old.

I get annoyed really easily by things people do. Especially on the train. All I wanna do is yell at people. Like the people by the doors who refuse to step off the car at crowded stops and let the masses pour out. You'll get back in. And you'll probably get a seat this time, too. Conversely, there are also those who push and shove to get to the door. It's Clark and Lake at rush hour. I'm getting off, everyone's getting off, stop pushing me. I also don't like strangers' hair invading my space, or even coming close to.

I get annoyed by teenagers and the things they do. I love babies and toddlers.

Tea time may be my favorite time of day.

I go to bed before midnight on weeknights for the first time since age 14.

I hosted my own Thanksgiving dinner.

My knee hurts a lot today. My other knee hurt a lot yesterday. My back also kind of hurts now that I mention it. And I've been complaining about it, too. Here I go again.

Kat commented on how I dance when I cook. I mean, there is usually music playing, but yeah, I do dance when I cook. And it's a weird dance, a mom dance, reserved only for the kitchen.

I couldn't handle going out Thursday-Saturday nights this weekend. I didn't. Even Thursday and Friday back to back was pushing it.

I eat oatmeal almost every morning. That's old people food isn't it?

I pay a lot of attention to my nails and my obsession with perfume has grown. Fortunately for all of you, I think my sense of smell is quite intact, so I don't think I'm overdoing the scents, I just really like them.

I am so into Christmas right now.

Homesick

Seeing Milk made me miss San Francisco. I know I don't say that much (or maybe I do, but I feel as if it's usually Togatown for which I pine) but I do. I really, really do. Right now, anyway.

I saw the film alone this afternoon because no one wanted to as much as I did. I felt like I had some sort of civic duty to see it, but an enjoyable one, a sort of homage to my youth, to my neighborhood/neighboring neighborhood: I lived in the Castro, or within 5-10 minutes of it for all of my time in SF, and I attended Harvey Milk Civil Rights Academy for three important years (K-2). One of my mom's friends was one of the main characters in the movie, too. Not an actor friend acting in the movie, but a friend, a photographer to be precise, who was part of Milk's cute camera shop crew. He wasn't played by any of the big-ish names (Franco, Hirsch, or Luna) also playing characters in that circle, but that was still exciting as heck to hear the name Danny Nicoletta and know the real Danny. Also that hunky guy who played the Titanic designer/engineer in Titanic played Mayor Moscone. I have no personal connection to him; I just liked him in Titanic.

Diego Luna's character was kind of annoying at times, but I think he was supposed to be, and it was oh so clear that Emile Hirsch was wearing American Apparel, but all in all it was a good film. When looking for a photo of the American Apparel 'fit, I found out that Emile Hirsch and I share the exact same date of birth AND imdb.com trivia says "Was often seen singing karaoke alongside Lindsay Lohan." Birthday twins + karaoke + LiLo = SoulM8s.

I saw some previews today, too, and was telling my dad about them on the phone after the movie. I was telling him about this movie called Sunshine Cleaning and said it must have been Alan Arkin's last film. My dad was confused and corrected me. Why did I think Alan Arkin died? Weird. Anyway, he's not dead. He will also be in the upcoming movie Marley & Me, which I guess is how Jennifer Aniston's been wasting her time recently when not busy telling magazines how mean and cruel Angelina is/was. Seriously, why is that on so many magazine covers now?? Didn't this all happen years ago?

Maybe I need to sit down with a US Weekly and stop reading magazines only by their covers.

Surrounded by Accomplished Writers... and Snow

Yesterday I found out that my high school friend wrote a review for the NY Times Book review, and today, I read that one of the most emailed articles "100 Notable Books of 2008" featured one of my most favorite professors from Skidmore for his collection of short stories, Dangerous Laughter. Knowing these two writers quite well, though I doubt I will ever reach their level of skill or exposure, is inspiring me to write more and more often. Don't see this as the start of that effort. I will most likely be writing outside of blogger world.

On the second subject, snow, I have little to say except that I need to relearn how to walk on it. I had some trouble today, and a slowed commute, as I walked up Damen and came close to falling probably 5 times. I didn't fall, but I know I will sometime soon. I have a serious fear of falling after last winter's great spills: New Year's Eve, Valentine's Day, I'm sure there were others, on non-holidays, too. The former sous chef at Chez gave me some tips though. Don't walk with your hands in your pocket and then you will catch your fall with your hands instead of your chin. Mindblowing. So true though.

I also had trouble this morning deciding which shoes to wear. Thank God, I have a second roommate now who has to wake up when I wake up because she's sleeping in my room to help me with such tough wardrobe decisions. I told her I didn't want to wear my heavy duty snow boots, the "duck boot" ones, because I will look like a weak Californian and not a seasoned upstate New Yorker. This same thought made me resist the down jacket until it dropped to 20 degrees. If we get more snow tonight, however, I am doing it. I don't care what people think. I'd probably be more embarassed by bandages or a lack of teeth than I would be by over cautious footwear choices. Also, I love my Fryes and didn't want to switch over just yet, but in the name of traction and in recognition of my klutziness, or whatever it is, I may tomorrow.

My life as an (unwed) housewife.

Thanksgiving was a success. Here are a few photos:


Potatoes in progress. The shallots and sage recipe was a success. Thanks New York Times!


Cranberry sauce. Thanks Epicurious!


Medieval Times (the "Times" and the restaurant) style! Thanks Joe!

I am trying to be inventive with all the leftovers. We got to keep all the turkey because the boy who made it is a vegetarian. All I have come up with so far is curry turkey salad.

The day after Thanksgiving my dear friend Kat arrived in Chicago. She will be staying with me for a three weeks while she looks for a job and an apartment. Turns out there is an apartment available across the hall from me, so we are looking into that.

I really don't have much to write right now. I think we will see a movie today as we spent all day yesterday walking. I think I need some new indoor hobbies, but for now, movie watching, cooking, and making progress with my book club books work for me.

ALSO, I am very proud of one of best high school friends. I write this; she writes this. Way to go, Fran.

"Wouldn't It Be Nice" is playing in the cafe where we are hanging. This song now reminds of Bob because of his goodbye blog post to a group of us.

I am thankful for Friends.... the TV show

I am having my first non-familial Thanksgiving this year. A Thanksgiving with Friends! It will look like this:


Paul Rudd and I have been dating for a few weeks now. It's going merrily. I'm Jennifer Aniston though. Shh, don't tell Phoebe. Lauren is Monica. Our friend Joe is Joey. Duh. And I guess Shira will be Phoebe because she doesn't live with us.

I am in charge of potatoes and cranberry sauce. I brought a few recipes to tea time today to get opinions on what I should make. I will be making carmelized shallot and sage mashed potatoes and a yam au gratin with ginger and orange zest.

Also, last night, we established (maybe semi-drunkenly) that our rule is (at least) one bottle of wine per person. I think it's a good one.

I hope to make everyone say before we eat what they are thankful for this year. My dad always makes us do that, and I kinda like it. My guess is that everyone will say Barack Obama. And maybe Mad Men, too.

Misc. End of Work Week Post

Today was good because I met one of the co-founders of Facebook (Chris Hughes), ate yummy pizza (artichoke and chevre on one, red peppers, feta, olives, and pesto on another), and ordered a new MacBook. Chris arrived at our office when I was filling in for the receptionist and had my work laptop up at the desk and was on Facebook. I'm pretty sure he saw. I'm pretty sure that happens a lot. Like every time he goes to any public place with wireless.

Forecast says my next definite good day will be next Friday because my computer will arrive and so will my friend Kat! She is moving here and will be staying with me until we leave for Christmas and will return in January with an apartment of her own. I am excited to have this lovely lady back in my life.

I am contemplating going to a "pub night" after work. These happen every Friday, and I have not yet gone, but I don't think I will today. Only one member of my work "crew" is going. My work crew is loosely defined, by me, as the people who tea (yep, it's a verb, like "lunch") together every day at 3 and send each other funny emails.

I have a lot of reading to do in the coming weeks as I am now in two book clubs. One is with my roommate and her former roommate's twin sister and a bunch of her friends and oddly one good friend of one of my friends from high school who lives here, too. For that club, we are reading the Omnivore's Dilemma. My other book club is with my coworker and we are reading a secret book that we will discuss weekly over salads at this place she introduced me to this week called Ponte Fresco. Best salad I have had in a long time. Damn good.

I am listening to Daniel Johnston radio on Pandora which I hadn't listened to since summer 2007 when I listened to it a lot. I watched the Devil and Daniel Johnston the other night because my mom sent me the DVD, so that inspired this revisit. I had listened to him since then, just not this Pandora channel. I can't decide whose version of "True Love Will Find You in The End" I like best.

This is a boring post, but it, along with lots of water drinking, managed to kill my remaining minutes of work. My apologies. But thanks!

Birds Could Choke on the Flour, too. Duh.

Several people have told me that they used to read the Red Eye, Chicago's free daily commuter newspaper, but got tired of it's "fluff." "It's always the same." Blah blah. It took more than one issue for you to realize that? I knew it was bad from day one, but that's not why I don't read it; I don't read it because my train is so jam packed every day that there is no way I possibly could. There are, however, those who try to read it, and for that, I am thankful because I can sometimes read the back page, the gossip page. I'm sure they have some juicier name for this back cover.

Yesterday I couldn't read the back, but saw a picture of LiLo, whose gossip is really the only gossip I care about following. Since I couldn't read the text, I Googled it today, and I must say, I am glad I did.


Lindsay showers in blow! No, it's flour. An attack by French animal rights activists.

Her ladyfriend Sam Ronson gave a moving comment on the event:

"I'm pissed at the bag of flour thrown on Lindsay last night. Not because I got powdered down, but because the girl who threw it acted like an animal herself. I take that back -- it's an insult to animals to group her in with them, my dog is FAR more civilized than that person."

Ronson then pointed out, "I think there are plenty of families that could have used that flour for a meal. Nice job, lady."

Flour: It's What's for Dinner.

11/11

Good Luck Day!

I am a dork who kisses my phone if it's 11:11 and makes a wish. I have done this since my BFF Laura and I became friends. She does it. She even combines a knock on wood with the kiss of the phone.

We are bizarre, and that is why we are friends.

The kissing part, however, didn't start for me until I was a sophomore in college. A boy I liked said it was 11:11. I knew we were meant to be. I made a wish and he kissed his phone. I commented on that, and he said you are supposed to kiss whatever tells you what time it is.

I looked into his eyes, "You told me what time it is." And then we kissed as a band named after highlighters jammed on the green for all the kids who cared not about 11:11, only 4:20.

My life isn't a bad movie. I said, "Oh" and kissed my phone.

Bowling Together, Again?

A few weeks ago, I made a note to read the book Bowling Alone again.

In the last few days, others have brought that book up in conversations about politics, community, and fidelity.

Will a new administration mean a country that bowls together again? I know some folks in Saratoga who are. Right now, in fact. But I guess they never stopped.

A country that goes to the polls together, bowls together.

Okay, I tried.

(A longer election post is still coming)

In my dream, I hurt my foot

I had a dream last night I stepped on a rusty nail. I think that is my mind's recognition that the weather is now cold enough for me to watch one of my favorite movies of all time:

We Did, We Will

I am clearly, like every other proud American, going to share my thoughts on the outcome of this election, especially since I had a not-quite-front-row, but pretty-good-nonetheless seat to history.

I, however, have too much to say and have had too little time to say it the last two days.

For now:


Raise it. I'm proud.

To be continued...

(Updated) Seeing John Malkovich, and other things that have happened to me since I last blogged

I really fell out of the blogging routine for the rest of October, but I am determined to get back on it. Bob is the only one who actually requested I do, but it's been bothering me a bit lately, too.

Since I last blogged here are some things that I have done/been doing:

My parents visited. They were here during the B of A marathon weekend. My dad made several jokes about us just running from restaurant to restaurant. He also got a little drunk, I think, during dinner at Bistro Campagne (two Manhattans!) and sang along to the Cars "I Love the Night Life" in a cab at 8 pm. Correction: two different songs. There was a Cars song and then "I Love The Night Life." He was made fun of for singing "I Love the Night Life" so early in the night and for knowing all the words to a Cars song, but both were pretty cute. It was a good weekend.

I saw John Malkovich on the corner of Le Moyne and Damen. He was with a young boy.

I have been working for 3 weeks now and really like it. The people in my office are great. I was in invited to join an elite tea time group that meets daily at 3. I'll write more about work later. As much as I like it, I still don't wanna think about it on Sunday night.

I saw the movie Rachel Getting Married and really liked it. I saw Tunde again the next week at the TV on the Radio show.

I went to a pumpkin carving party and carved this beauty.



I dressed as Cher from Clueless for Halloween.



Overall, I've been enjoying autumn. There are a lot of spooky, tree-lined streets in this city.

I am excited, but still quite scared for Tuesday.

October 8th is Officially Mark Ruffalo Day

I've decided that Wednesday was Mark Ruffalo day. The following events happened that day, randomly and independently:

1. Alissa reminded me that in her high school alumni record it says she is married to Mark Ruffalo. Her submission, clearly.

2. I came home and took Time Out out of the mailbox: Mark Ruffalo is on the cover!

3. Maggie and I were planning on seeing a movie. Due to best showtimes, we were gonna see How To Lose Friends & Alienate People, but due to her getting home later from work than planned, Blindness was all we could see at the chosen theatre with remaining showtimes. Two hours of Mark Ruffalo!

Thinking about item 1 and item 3 now together prompted me to ask Alissa if she had seen Blindness:
me: have you seen blindness?
sorry, i must be crazy, you probably went to the premiere with the hubby
Alissa: obvi my hubby and i went to the premiere

G-chat makes it look like I said that first, but we said that at the same time, and that is why Alissa and I are friends.

On a more serious note, Blindness was good. It reminded me of 28 Days Later at times, but was a much better film and story. Also, it had some Lord of the Flies themes going on. I know, so many things are compared to Lord of the Flies, but that's because it's the best example of how different types of people handle power and order when it's free for the taking.

Also, this film made me realize that if Lindsay Lohan ages naturally and remains blond, she will grow to look a lot like Julianne Moore.

The theatre where we saw Blindness didn't have mirrors in the bathroom! It was an interesting social experiment to notice that right before seeing a movie in which almost no one can see anything. I don't really know what the question of the experiment would be, but I bet there were those who didn't notice the lack of mirror and those who did, like me.

tHiS is 2 fuNnY.. LoL.. O M GeE!

Bob just told me about Skidmore Unofficial and I'm doing that silent laughing thing considering I'm in a quiet room full of strangers, but it's really hard to not laugh audibly right now. This new Skidmore blog/message board site is full of quality quotes. I have to repost a few here.

On Girl Talk and my former radio station:
"I guess I didn't get Girl Talk. He's nothing but a DJ who plays a bunch of songs all at once and the only difference between him and the Skidmore radio DJ's is Girl Talk does it on purpose".

On STDs and stupidity:
Girl: "You can get herpies [herpes, morons] from kissing someone? How's that possible? It's an STD"
Boy: "Yeah, he got it from kissing a girl"
Girl: "Oh okay, that's fine, I haven't kissed any girls"

On laundry and true love. Also, on drugs:
"i just opened my dryer in front of you, causing all of my laundry to spill to the floor, you snorted (so hottt) and and then suggested i use fabric softener. i really felt something between us, but its possible that i'm just really really high. i was wondering if you want to meet at taco bell in like 20 minutes. my treat?"

On "my roommate...":
"loves Creed"
"masturbates for a long time"
"and insists I watch"
"and MADE me watch"
"plays tricks on me with her universal remote"
"plucks at my towel with her tweezers and pulls out the threads, freak.."
"has an open case of vaseline next to her bed.."
"is stingy with his medicinals and need to chill the fuck out about it cause honestly, this is a community and it's not like I wasn't perfectly generous...whatever"
"beatboxes"

On themes for parties:
"pretzel party. everyone brings their favorite pretzel."
"sock party... my mom used to throw them when i was little. everyone can wear their favorite pair of socks! its a blast"
"birthday party"
"american socialist party"
"an alcohol party"
"not in the dorms, yo" (In response to above... Narc)
"get old school and do a toga party. it's only appropraite. (it being saraTOGA and all.)" (Mindblowing)
"third eye blind party"
"CEOs and their respectable, close to retirement, reserved secretaries."

Halloween in October

I have been thinking about Halloween costumes for awhile now. Actually, I think about Halloween costumes all year round, so it was great that we had that Halloween in May Party.

The two costumes I am considering for this Halloween are Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Sacagawea Emerged from the Gold Coin. Some may call this cheating, but I have been both before. I was Buffy, however, in 9th grade, so it can definitely be recycled this year. Sacagawea was my senior year of college costume, so while it's a little soon to re-do, I will be with an entirely new group of people. Plus, that costume ruled, and I would love to do it again.

If I were Buffy, I think I could pull together a costume from my wardrobe. I think I still have quite a few crucifixes around somewhere (People don't get so creative for First Communion and Confirmation gifts). If I didn't find one, I'm sure I could buy one somewhere. Having to purchase a crucifix reminds me of one of my favorite Arrested Development quotes:
Maeby: Where can I get one of those necklaces with a "t" on it?
Michael: That's a cross.
Maeby: Across from where?

Ha ha ha.

All I would really need for Buffy is a stake.

For Sacagawea, well I need a lot of gold fabric and ribbon and rope. And a baby doll to spray gold considering the baby from that costume ended up in pieces, a little at Gaffney's, a little at DA's, the rest in a garbage can on Broadway (Thanks, Dan!).

I'm not ruling out other options, but for lack of a new better idea, these are the two possibilities right now. Open to suggestions...

Synchronicities deserve their own posts

I just told Ally that I feel bad when I want to write about synchronous things that happen to me as that is the theme of her blog, but sometimes she writes about non-synchronous things and I don't call her a biter, so with the promise of a link, I have permission to write about this.

Last night Maggie (sick of her yet? I'm not) and I went to this bar in her neighborhood we had passed with the twins on Sunday, but figured we should return when we weren't babysitting. The place is called the Charleston and was a good Monday night drinking spot. There were about 5 people at the bar, all over 40 and none of them area yupsters. As we finished our beer, 4 of the 5 people went up to the stage. We decided to stay for another drink so as not to leave these kind folks without an audience. They covered a bunch of 80s songs, some done well, some not so well. They were a chick-led band and got me and Maggie talking about singing. Turns about Maggie, like I, had quite the singing (and acting) career in middle school and high school. We were both turned off by the Skidmore theatre and a capella scenes to stick with those things in college, but we both agreed we miss singing. I had more recent singing outlets with our weekly Alley karaoking in Saratoga, but I am missing it now quite a bit.

On my walk home, I went through songs I used to sing that could perhaps be added to my future "repetoire" (karaoke, or otherwise) and recalled a tape I used to listen to all the time and really got me into singing. (I'm talking age 7 or 8, probably, so I don't really want to imagine how I actually sounded.) All I remembered was that it was a Billboard compilation from the 60s and I could only remember a few songs. I made a mental note to look it up online, but I am sure I would have forgotten to do so. When I got to the library today, lying on the table, in my regular spot, was the book of complete Billboard #1's from 1955 to 2000. I was able to flip through and find the year of my beloved tape: 1963.

Synchronicity? I think so.

Here are the songs. I find a lot of them annoying now, but there are a few gems:
1. Sugar Shack, Jimmy Gilmore & the Fireballs
2. He's So Fine, The Chiffons
3. Dominique, The Singing Nun
4. Hey Paula, Paul & Paula
5. My Boyfriend's Back, The Angels
6. Blue Velvet, Bobby Vinton
7. Sukiyaki, Kyu Sakamoto
8. I Will Follow Him, Little Peggy March
9. Fingertips - Pt. 2, Little Stevie Wonder
10. Walk Like A Man, The 4 Seasons
11. Go Away Little Girl, Steve Lawrence
12. I'm Leaving It All Up To You, Dale & Grace
13. Surf City, Jan & Dean
14. It's My Party, Leslie Gore
15. Walk Right In, The Rooftop Singers
16. Easier Said Than Done, The Essex
17. If You Wanna Be Happy, Jimmy Soul
18. So Much In Love, The Tymes
19. Deep Purple, Nino Tempo & April Stevens
20. Our Day Will Come, Ruby & The Romantics

I listened to this tape all the time. It was probably on rotation with the Mermaids soundtrack (Cher, Winona, and Christina Ricci film, not the Little Mermaid), the Big Chill soundtrack, and Green Day's Dookie. Kids loves oldies and soundtracks and East Bay punks!

"You look dumb"

The past few days have been characterized by no furniture, twins, and a whole lot of time with people named Maggie.

I was in a really great mood all day Friday, as you can probably tell by all the "!"s and superlatives in my last post, being new employed and excited to spend time with two of my fave 518ers to see a 518 band, The Mathematicians, play 5.18 blocks away from my house until I got home before the friends came over and was immediately greeted with "I have bad news" from my roommate Lauren.

Blah blah back-story: Lauren used to live with Shannon. Shannon had to move pretty suddenly to New Orleans and left a lot of her stuff in our apartment, including the bed and dresser I have been using. I knew she was moving back here in February, so I planned on slowly getting a bed and dresser of my own by then. Her twin sister, however, recently moved here and called Lauren on Friday to say she would be by Sunday to pick up all of Shannon's stuff. There was some big misunderstanding somewhere where someone thought the stuff was in storage and not being used by me. The twin is a nice girl and I hear great things about Shannon, so I can't be mad at them directly, but I was pretty pissed just about the situation in general.

I decided I wouldn't let it ruin my celebratory night/weekend and would deal with it later. How I love procrastination!

So on Saturday, Maggie and I went to Fulton Market District to visit several galleries. I wasn't thrilled about any of the art until we got to the Packer Schopf Gallery and saw the laptops etched (is that even the right way to describe that?) by Michael Dinges. I never really wanted a tattoo, or to draw all over my computer, til I saw these.

On Sunday I babysat with Maggie for her cousin's kids. It was fun hanging with three-year olds! Twins, too! I have missed kids and would like to start babysitting again. The parents of the twins let me borrow their nice air mattress, so I at least have something on which to sleep til my new bed comes on Thursday.

Yesterday, I hung out with another Maggie, a friend from high school. She was a year above me, but we had math together and had a lot of mutual friends. We ate Thai food, looked at furniture, and talked about people I haven't thought about in 5 years. She remembered more people from my class than I did. "What ever happened to that girl Stevie Jo?" "Uh, who?" Seriously, who? Did she even graduate with us?

A lady just walked out of Alliance Bakery with her backpack under her trench coat. I get that it's raining, but sometimes I want to tell people how dumb they look.

My friend Katherine just sent me a voting guide for inmates. In case anyone is in need of this, here ya go.

11 behind Google

I got a job today! With a company called Thoughtworks that's been rated the 12th best company to work for in Chicago. I obviously can't confirm that yet, but the people I met today were awesome and the office is super cool. I am pretty damn excited. I start the 13th, Papa G's birthday. The parents will actually be here next weekend. I gotta start making plans. I'm thinking the itinerary Alissa and I had will need to be changed a bit. Scratch of zoo and some of the drinking, add a museum or two and more new restaurants. A good weekend to all! I'm gonna stroll and enjoy this lovely fall weather.

I blame it on Don Draper's hats

On the subject of nostalgia, I seem to also be nostalgic for a time in which I never even lived. This probably has another name for it than nostalgia. I was feeling that a bit when watching 400 Blows the other day. It wasn't just Paris I wanted, it was that Paris.

But, I have really been jonesin' for decades past with my new TV obsession: Mad Men. This TV obsession is different from Gossip Girl; this is actually a show everyone should be watching.

Heavy daytime drinking, smoking, and chauvinism characterize the work place, yet the people still seem classy as hell...Maybe because a small part of me wishes all that was kosher today? They're not all admirable (I hate the little turd Pete) and even the class acts stumble like in the episode I watched last night in which Sterling vomited in the reception area of the office, but that's because he had 2 dozen oysters and 3 martinis for lunch and had to walk up 20 flights of stairs due to a broken elevator. Maybe I've just been won over by the great clothes and dapper gents, but I still am jealous of their lifestyle, even if it's filled with glass ceilings, infidelity, and all that stuff.

Nostalgia-Driven Post

Since arriving in Chicago, I have been too busy getting to know new things to be nostalgic for old things. Or maybe there just wasn't any catalyst to make me miss anything and dwell on what I left. Over the last few days, however, I have been missing some places and I blame this on talking to Jocelyn, fall weather, and Francois Truffaut.

On Sunday, Jocelyn told me to "come home." I actually do think of Saratoga as home these days with Dad and Stepmom so close by and so many friends still there. Then she told me she is buying a house there, something I could see myself maybe doing someday, and I'm a little jealous.

Plus, now it's fall. Fall is my favorite season in Upstate NY. I have fall traditions there, and I don't have fall traditions here yet, though I am still enjoying this change in weather. Last fall was a weird one, but a great one and I keep thinking about fun excursions I had this time of year last year:
My first time hanging out with Dede. We went apple picking.
Going to the World's Largest Yard Sale in Warrensburg with Sam and Jamie
All the cooking and going out with Chloe
Seeing Ted Leo with Kara and having to drive back from Troy with the top down, not by choice
First wing nights with Bob and crew
blah blah Saratoga Nostalgia blah blah

I got over Saratoga yesterday and started missing France when I went to see one of my favorite movies 400 Blows at the Gene Siskel Film Center (what a cool place!). I've seen it many a time, but never on the big screen, so I'm glad I went. It's really one of the best films ever, I believe. I like the whole Antoine Doinel series and have them all lined up on NetFlix to watch again. The 400 blows score was in my head through the night and all I want to do is live in Paris again. Not right now, but it's gotta happen. I don't want to teach English, which brought so many of my friends back there this year and last, but I'll think of something. If I move to Paris, hopefully I will marry some adult version of this:



Sorry for the sap, but it's autumnal! Get it?? Cuz of maple syrup and stuff? (I guess sap's produced all year long, isn't it? Well, maple syrup = Vermont = leaves changing, yeah yeah, you get it. I'm done.)

Visitor #3

This weekend my friend Alissa came to Chicago for a visit, her first here. We did lots of fun things: saw Why? play Friday night, went to the Lincoln Park zoo, got in an argument deciding whether to go to John Hancock or Sears Tower, went to John Hancock's Signature Room for martinis, had dinner at the Fiddlehead Cafe (that place where I saw that Swarthmore alumni thing going on that I wrote about several posts back. Sorry, I don't link you to previous posts like other bloggers do, not because I don't know how, I do, but because I'm just lazy), brought people from different periods of my (recent) life (Skidmore, Saratoga, now) together at Rainbo and had a lot of fun, found ourselves in a taqueria turned late night karaoke bar (all the songs were in Spanish), woke up too early this morning and spent a little time in bed watching Gossip Girl (A's call, not mine, and three-quarters into it, after Chuck told S "Your life is over, slut!," A decided she really liked it), then walked around my neighborhood, had lunch with Maggie, and called it a weekend. Alissa makes me laugh differently than I usually laugh, orders for me in restaurants, calls me Gedz, and has the most entertaining interactions with strangers I have ever seen. Alissa also says "hella" now; it's weird, but it was a hella fun weekend.

Having a friend coming to visit and showing her around my new city really made me feel like I live here. I liked it, except that all the fun and the little-to-no sense of responsibility I have right now has made me start to feel a little anxious. Yes, I am temping, so I am "working," and making money, and also looking for things, but I don't really know what I'm looking for. I took advantage of having someone who knows me quite well here this weekend to get an outsider perspective on what I should be doing. We brainstormed on my skill set and interests and concluded that if I give up on the editorial pursuit, I should be a cab driver. I, however, don't really want to be a cab driver, so I really have some thinking to do.

I know these questions, this anxiety isn't unique to me. Duh. It's probably one of the hardest things most people have to deal with, figuring out what they want to do. I don't really need to figure that out yet. I just want to find a job that could potentially introduce me to something I want to do, and if it doesn't accomplish that task, I would deal with it for awhile, and probably enjoy it, as long as my coworkers were people I liked and the dress code didn't mandate super conservative attire in varying shades of drab.

Maybe this is why there's that book about parachutes. I haven't read it though; I am afraid of heights--unless there are martinis at the top.

I don't write my stuff anymore; I just kick it from head--BAM!

I rarely explain my post titles because they are either 1) obvious or 2) dumb. (Also, I usually don't title them until the end, at which point, I am done writing. Duh.) Because I am taking you back to this one does not mean I have dismissed it from the "dumb" category, only that it was chosen to explain the sort of random, just-writing-because-it's-been-a-week-style of this post that I'm about to write while it also alludes to a song performed by a band I saw play on Sunday night, something I will briefly perhaps write about below.

Last week I started a temp position at a health care group that provides affordable health care to young and expectant mothers. The work itself (data entry of handwritten applications into the online database) is not thrilling, but the motions are so repetitive that I can easily think of other things and talk with my fellow temp and still do the job. I have learned in the last four days that there are a lot of mothers in Chicago who are years younger than I am. It scared me when I came across an applicant with my exact birth date who already had 4 kids, and she's not nearly the youngest with a family already this big. I try not to think too much about their circumstances because I don't know more than what's on the paper, so maybe they have great boyfriends or husbands, familial support, or maybe they don't. We try to keep it light, creating our own catalogue of "Great Baby Names in 2008," subtitled: "Names by Babies for Babies!" (Too far? OK, no subtitle). To date the tops have been two sisters named Parris and Phrance and today, I saw two boys China and Korea who just welcomed a sister named Egypt. I guess I have a penchant for geographically-influenced names.

In other news, Jess arrived. She and Ally and I had a marathon hang fest that included exploring Hyde Park, seeing Obama's house, taking a long stroll in the Loop and along the river and Mag Mile, trying pizza my roommate recommended (it was good, but it wasn't pizza), and going to a few bars.

On Sunday, Lauren and I were supposed to go to the Hideout Block party together, but she got guilted into working three extra hours. Ally was considering it, but she was abducted by aliens. So, I ended up there alone. And quite happily alone. It was a nice little break after all the hanging on Friday and Saturday (no offense to A & J, would have happened with anyone, and unemployment and being in a new city have made me very used to my alone time). I saw a Michael Jackson cover band (bad), Rhymefest (pretty okay), the New Pornographers (good!) and Ratatat, not Ratatatat, as some girl kept saying, (better than last time!). I drank a Goose Island IPA (good) and a pulled pork on cibatta sandwich (really good!).

It was great to see the NPs for the first time. Neko Case is pretty rad. Ratatat as I said were better than last time I saw them (summer 2004 I think). They have picked up another member (I think they used to be just two, right?) and some more instruments (it seemed), so they relied less on their video montages and good looks (ok, well they are really tall and have interesting hair) to keep the crowd engaged. They, of course, ended with "17 years," a song whose intro hook is great, but really the only reason why it's so liked, I think... I know, I am not being very sure of my language, facts or opinions here. I'm just kickin litle preemy baby thoughts from my head...

GG101

While still looking at rooms and roommates, Ally told me she met one who was really into Gilmore Girls and "cheesy shit like that," but in a different way than how Jocelyn and the Burkes and I like all that cheesy shit. Somehow our liking it is okay. I'm fine with this approval.

And that said, I'm pretty public about my love of the other GG: Gossip Girl. I told a friend of mine he should give it a try since roughly 4 out of 5 of his closest female friends really like it. Well, he only gave the show 5 minutes last week because he didn't have one of us by his side to explain all the complexities. I think he should give it another chance because he likes having common ground with us, and also enjoys gossip, young girls and MILFs alike, and NY.

So I wrote him this character guide, and since I spent so much (not that much) time on it, I'm making it a post because I don't really feel like writing anything else today and perhaps these steamy sketches (in addition to the steamy posters around town) will make other readers and friends turn into GG viewers.

Here is a character list to help you understand the incestuous web in which these naughty Upper East Side teens have tangled themselves... Oh, and the less fortunate characters live in modest Williamsburg lofts.

Gossip Girl: We don't know who she is. We only know that she knows everything, and as soon as she gets the latest, she blogs about it and everyone in the school has a feed for this blog on their Bberrys. Oddly, I don't think anyone on the show has an IPhone. GG is very fond of the send-off "xoxo" and lives by the motto "you're nobody until you're talked about." Her identity will probably be revealed in a dramatic series finale in which at least two characters will die. GG will likely be someone we have known all along. This series finale will either take place when 1) Blake Lively accepts a contract to model for a comeback shoe (a la Mischa Barton and Ked's) or 2) when a "Melrose Place" or "Moesha" reunion show seems more profitable to the CW than "GG." In literary terms, GG is what we call the "narrator."

Serena "S" Van Der Woodsen: S is what child psychologists would call the Queen Bee. The rest of us, depending on which side you stand, will call her either an idol, an inspiration, a goddess, or a whore, a bitch, a slut, things of that nature. S disappeared from the scene their sophomore year of high school. Rumors flying out of GG's blog suggested she was away at rehab (little too much champagne in the hot tub??... or worse?!), but when she returns, marking the show's start, we find out she was at boarding school for a year, getting away from it all and totally transforming into an understanding, compassionate, level-headed lady. We learn through flashbacks throughout season 1 that she did, however, leave for boarding school on a high (pun!) note: sleeping with her "best friend" B's boyfriend at a wedding, getting trashed at various galas and on holidays, and, a bomb, not dropped til the end of season 1, leaving her and her friend's coke dealer to DIE. In season 1, though, S dates reject Dan "Lonely Boy" Humphrey. He's a reject because he lives in Williamsburg and listens to indie rock. Funny, because everywhere else, that's what they call a hipster.

Blair "B" Woldorff: B, unlike S, is a non-reformed bitch, but she was a virgin until about the end of her junior year and doesn't party as much as S, so she's allowed to be Ms. Judgmental. B dated Nate for years, saw herself marrying him, broke up with him when she found out he slept with S at the wedding, got back together briefly (I think), but then lost her virginity to his best friend Chuck Bass on her birthday. She is now dating a British Lord whose stepmom is boning her ex-bf Nate.

Dan "Lonely Boy" Humphrey: Dan is a hipster. Dan is a super hottie, like most TV nerds turned studs. The East Coast Seth Cohen if that provides any reference point. He also has a hot Dad named Rufus who was previously involved with S's mom Lily (I like her for reasons obvious and not). Dan also has a sister named Jenny. Dan wants to be a writer. His story that he just can't seem to finish is about his seemingly unrequited crush on S that eventually became a true romance. Or something.

Jenny: Dan's sister. She was just a freshman in season 1, and to make up for the lame points attached to her zip code, she becomes the little bitchchild of B and lets her clique boss her around. This leads to lots of drama throughout the season. But she annoys me and isn't nearly as cool as the men in her family, so I'm not gonna say much more.

Nate Archibald: He's not much more than a pretty face. He's likable though, besides the sleeping with his gf's bff at that wedding, but who can blame him? S > B. His dad is in jail for drugs or fraud or something. They don't have much money these days. He's boning a duchess though (as mentioned above) who happens to be the mom of his ex-gf's new bf.

Chuck Bass: He's skeezy, but we kind of like him. He tried to put it in little J at her first big high school party, but big bro Dan and S (on their first date) saved her. As mentioned above, he and B had sex on her birthday. He's now in love with her. But, he stood her up at the airport at the beginning of the summer and spent his vacation in the Hamptons instead, still in love, but distracting himself with non-English speaking slutfaces. He recently gave his friend Nate's mom a giant loan, thinking a "philanthropic" move would make B take him back. We'll see.

Rufus: Dad of Jenny and Dan. In a band. Owns a gallery-recently-turned cafe. Shaky, complicated relationship with ex wife and with ex gf Lily, mom of S. He spent the summer touring with his band. We saw them play once at the end of season 1 when they opened for Luscious Jackson. Can you believe it!?!

Lily: She's the token MILF. Well, MYLF, I should say. She had a wild era like her daughter S. In that time, she dated Rufus. Cuz wild girls only date rock star dudes who open for Luscious Jackson, duh. She is now engaged (or wait, maybe married) to Chuck Bass's dad because he has better social standing than Rufus. This makes Chuck and S siblings, which is awkward because Chuck tried, forcefully, to sleep with S in the kitchen of the Plaza, which he owns, during her first week back. She refused. It would be equally awkward though I suppose if Lily got back with Rufus because then S and Dan would be siblings.

Vanessa: Vanessa is Dan's hot female best friend. She's in love with him, but can't compare to S, so she got involved with Nate somewhere in between the B fiasco and the Duchess. Vanessa spent the summer turning Rufus's aforementioned gallery into a cafe. She seems to still be into Nate. And Dan.


"You know you love me"
"xoxo"
LG

Employ Me, So I Stop Boring You

Dede and Adam were in town this weekend which was lovely. We had dinner and then met up with Ally for a drink. The roadtrippers had to go to bed early, so after giving them a rundown on the household appliances, Ally and I returned to seize another Saturday night in my village. We had a good time at Happy (Asshole) Village and the Inner Town Pub, talking about writing, bed size, and the merits of the film Elf. I also ran into my Skidmore friends Simone and Jack, which was a delightful surprise.

On Sunday, I went to the German American Festival to celebrate a quarter of my heritage. Well, I at least had the intention of going. It didn't look so German. Just looked like those tents we had at Skidmore where only upperclassmen can hang during springtime concerts and Fun Day. Outdoor drinking has its time and place, but it wasn't Lincoln Square, alone in a sea of bros on a Sunday afternoon. Instead I bought shoes and went to Trader Joe's.

I had dinner at Maggie's because she wanted me to meet her roommates, see her pad, and Simone came, too. We had a good dinner, but had to move outside shortly after because the 5 cats started getting to my allergies. When we came back inside there was a man over delivering "tomatoes for the sauce." That's what he told Maggie's roommate to say when she makes the call. Maggie was opening her NetFlix with great excitement when the man said "Whoa, NetFlix is for real? I thought that was some mythical creature like a unicorn. I see ads, but didn't know it really existed. So you just get movies in the mail?" We explained the queue and all that. "And they give you an envelope and everything?? It's self-addressed??" This was incredibly entertaining. That's my blurb overhead of this post, I suppose, though it's sort of a cop out as I was part of the conversation.

I left on that note, so I would have something to laugh about between my sneezes on the walk home, and returned to the abode to watch some Simpson's with Lauren and read more of Kitchen Confidential. I am loving this book. Anthony Bourdain is a total asshole, total stone fox. Reading this is making me miss this summer in Saratoga and the crazy restaurant scene... A little.

I'm at the library right now, in the children's section because there were more free tables. There are no kids here; it's kind of weird. I just ate a monster cookie that Lauren made last night and insisted I bring as a library snack (that's a cookie with oatmeal, PB, M&Ms, chocolate chips). I guess I can play the part of the 5-year old.

Oh hey, a kid just sat down across from me and smiled. He has a cool car folder and a McGraw Hill Social Studies book. Maybe I should go upstairs now.

Read: Honest & Reflective. Not: Cheesy.

Last night I had dinner with my friend Maggie at this place called the Bluebird where we had gone for drinks when I was here in July and decided we would try it for dinner once I returned. We had a great meal, shared a flatbread (aka pizza) and a pork dish and lots of olives and wine. The menu was very similar to that of Max London's actually. Yum, yum.

At one point during dinner we were talking about high school friends and how it's so rare to keep those friendships going really strong. Maggie told me how lucky I am to have what I have with BFF Laura and I thought about this my whole 25-minute walk home in the mist. It is great to have someone who knows you so well still be a close friend after 9 years. It is also great to have Maggie here who has known me since we were little SCOOP roommates. Old friends anchor you in a way that prevents you from changing too much. I obviously have changed a lot between high school and college and now, and change is good, but I have changed in a way that makes sense (I hope). I think if I hadn't, these 5- or 9-year relationships wouldn't exist and I'd instead be friends with people who would be friends with a different me.

That said, I would like to make new friends, too. But am very happy I still have many of the old, even if our friendships will be phone/text/online based for awhile. This sounds like the Girl Scouts song. Or a song called "New Old Friends." New old friends do indeed take time. I don't mean to call Jeff Lewis a Brownie.

After all this thinking, I watched John McCain's speech on my phone in bed and fell asleep and had a dream that Laura did something awful and unforgivable. In this dream, however, we were also watching the Nutcracker in a stadium and there was an interesting mix of high school, Skidmore, and Saratoga people there.

I don't get my psyche.

2012

It's four years down the road, but everybody's talking/screaming on the bus.

The other day when I was hanging out with my friend Amanda we were discussing a former Skidmore peer of ours whom I did not know was a huge conspiracy theorist. I guess I should say a conspiracy theory believer because I don't think he creates any theories of his own. She said specifically that he's always talking about the 2012 apocalypse.

The next day on the Chicago Ave. bus some older man was going on and on about how we will all die in less than 4 years, if not sooner, so we better start repenting now. He had the zeal of the "No Sex" guy in San Francisco, except that guy you can walk away from, and well, I wanted to stay on the bus because I wanted to go home.

Two days later Ally was talking about 2012. But, I don't remember what she said. We went to a large-portions-only Mexican restaurant and my Sangria came in a bowl.

Who else out there is a 2012 believer?

Practicality to My Whiteness

I must admit I am kind of obsessed with my Sigg water bottle. It's pretty, leak-proof, and keeps water cold. Tonight as I was taking a nighttime stroll through the neighborhood to catch up with some people on the phone, I was swinging my Sigg in my phone-free hand. (I probably looked pretty white and stupid.) I realized tonight it's the perfect defense weapon should I ever need it. I didn't have to learn this the hard way, fortunately, but that baby could pack quite the punch with the weight of the water in the metal bottle combined with my great strength. I am guessing it would be less effective if empty, so I should probably remember to always refill or choose being parched when walking alone at night in the name of my safety.

I could just buy pepper spray.

Or just hope for the best as I have all these years of lone nighttime walking.

House Arrest without Internet

I was under house arrest without Internet today because I was waiting for a large UPS shipment and the tracking information was very vague. Fortunately, I got a shipment of 4 boxes yesterday, so I was able to spend the time at home setting up my room.

It looks great. All I need is the new comforter I ordered online to arrive.

Yesterday, while on house arrest without Internet AND without boxes to unpack, I started writing blog posts in Word for future posting, so that is why I have several posts from the last couple days to follow.

This activity reminded me of the episode of the Office when Creed asks Ryan how he can start a blog. Ryan, scared to expose the world to Creed's thoughts, opens a Word document and writes "http://creedsthoughts.blog.com" across the top of the page.

Blurbs Overheard Part Deux-Fus

I was walking around Lincoln Square the other day and looking at the menu for this place called the Fiddlehead Cafe, which a friend had said was good.

The restaurant has the type of windows that lures those interested in outdoor seating, but really they are just big windows that open wide and leave you prey to annoying people walking by.

Annoying Person: You went to Swarthmore??
Confused Father: Uh, yeah?
Annoying Person: Your shirt. It says Swarthmore.
Confused Father: Oh. Yeah. [Clearly not conscious of his wardrobe choices, a little irritated, and enjoying his meal.]
Annoying Person: We both went there. [Points to Small Asian Mate]. Class of '98. What class were you?
Confused Father: [mid-bite] Uh, '92.
Annoying Person: [Speaking on behalf of Small Mute Asian Mate] We loved it. That's where we met.
Confused Father: Ahh. [Looks at family. Like Asian, also mute.]
Annoying Person: Sorry. Didn't mean to disturb your lunch. Nice talking with you!

Ok, so Confused Father was a little jerky maybe, but he was enjoying his food, and Annoying Person was a little dense and should have gotten the clue that Confused Father did not want to talk.

This made Menu-Gazing Professional Eavesdropper laugh because she bought a Skidmore t-shirt before moving here having told her friend Bob who helped her pick it out that it may lead her to new friends. She is going to stop writing in the third person, and she would never wear her Skidmore t-shirt to a restaurant; it's big and more for running...running running or errand running. I would act exactly as Confused Father did if I were approached by any others but Attractive, Seemingly Cool, Mute-Asian-Mate-Free Skidmore Alumni. Call me superficial. I am.

Blurbs Overheard

The only part of the SkidNews I actually enjoyed reading in my college days was the Blurbs Overheard section which would either make me laugh at really clever things people on campus were saying or cringe at the really dumb things my peers were caught blurting in Case Center and the Spa and the Library.

TimeOut magazine has a section like that, too, and today in TimeOut Chicago, I read one funny one that said "And all this time I thought Dr. Dog was a rapper."

Sitting here in this coffee shop Atomix using the Internetz, I overheard a funny blurb.
Barista: You look sharp today!
Man: I thought I would wear head-to-toe white since it's the last day I can!

Nerd.

I am the only person left here, so there is no more eavesdropping to be had. Cue to go home.

Chicago!

Has someone already written a book praising Craigslist? If no one has, I may.

Craigslist has led me to a few of my jobs over the years, but in more recent times, it has brought me to a great apartment and great roommate. I love our apartment. We have hardwood floors, and darker wood windows and doors. We have a pantry. The light is great, and our street has bricks and trees, not uncommon in Chicago, I know, but still, it is much appreciated. I am still waiting on a lot of my goods to arrive on Tuesday and Wednesday, but I have the basics already, and my room is coming along. Lauren, roommate, and I have been hanging out quite a bit since my arrival. We've gone to a few bars in our neighborhood. One was kind of DA's like, one made me think I was at an outdoor tented wedding, except all the guests besides us and my soon to be in in Paris friend Amanda, were cute boys playing cards, and the bride and groom were nowhere to be found. We had sandwiches yesterday at a place called Jerry's which was quite yummy and then took a long walk up Western Ave. to get to the movies and Target. Pineapple Express was a big waste of time. Fun for them to make, I imagine. Cinematic masturbation, I shall call it. Bob read me a review for it a few weeks ago that said, "Like a stoner, this movie does not live up to your expectations." Many a stoner has made me happier than this film.

I've been walking a lot and hanging out at the coffee shop where my roommate works to use the Internet. She makes me iced Americanos, and today I had my first non-Uncommon bagel in I don't know how long.

On Thursday night, I went to the Art Institute alone and had a lovely time. There was one new wing/area that was not there last time I went and I spent the most time there. Collecting for Chicago it was called and they had some cool works by Crumb and Warhol and it smelled like paint and sheetrock. I really like those smells. I also really liked being at the Art Institute and hearing so many French tourists. I would stand by paintings not so much to look at them, but to hear what the Frenchies had to say and to see if I could understand them. After that, I walked through Millennium Park and skirted around the jazz fest that was going on. I think I will return there on Wednesday for the free Andrew Bird show. I then walked up Mich Ave to the Chicago bus that took me to an apartment where I purchased a nightstand (CL find!) and then stopped at our neighborhood Dominick's on my way home. I'm still confused every time I see wine and liquor in the grocery aisles, but I'm not complaining.

I'm not really sure what I want to do the rest of today/tonight. I kind of wanted to go see Don Cab, but am over that idea since the band has drastically changed since the days when I used to listen to them more. My friend Maggie is going to see some DJ and that could be fun. Also, I could stay home and enjoy the apartment and be perfectly content. When you are unemployed, Friday is Tuesday is Monday is Thursday. Schwhatevs. We'll see.

But speaking of (un)employment, I am making some baby steps. I have a few meetings, not interviews, but potentially fruitful meetings next week. I'll keep you posted in a post less ADD, rambly than this one. I hadn't blogged in awhile; there was a lot on my mind.

I'm going outside now.

So long, Saratoga

I told my friend Bob I would be writing an ode to Saratoga, but I don't think that's gonna happen. Each year of the last five has been so different that I don't really have one parting thought about that crazy town, one overarching lesson learned. The bottom line is that great friendships were made, both in college and this year, and I know I will stay in touch with the people I want to. I'll miss the places I frequented (duh); I won't miss the lack of anonymity or the tap water.

I was sad for a very short while yesterday because I had a string of goodbyes, accidentally, but appropriately in Uncommon where so many of those friendships were made, but today I have mainly been excited or too busy to think.

I was reminded today that it is the five-year anniversary of my grandmother's death. Thanks to my grandparents, who retired to Cambridge from Westchester when I was a toddler, I've had "roots" in this area that extend beyond my five years in Saratoga. Also thanks to G'ma, I had the Swan to help me explore this region on my own when I came to Skidmore. She died while I was on the freshmen preorientation trip SCOOP, so we never even lived here at the same time. Strangely, the first person I met on that trip, Maggie, my roommate for the three days, is now a great friend who will be living very near me in Chicago.

I don't know what all this means. Nothing at all, maybe. It just seems like an appropriate week to be leaving, and with that, goodbye, New York.

So Long, Swan

I sold the Swan today. I didn't cry, but we had a nice goodbye. I had to drive to Cambridge this morning to get the title from my dad's house, and it was a great day for it. Sunny, but not too hot... not that it matters cuz the Swan has got a bangin' AC system. We drove by my grandmother's old house since she was the previous owner. We listened to good music and sang good songs. I had a large Americano (thanks Moira!) from Uncommon in the cup holder. The Swan is used to those green cups; the Swan has seen those green cups on many a road trip. The Swan favored my snowmonkey plum tea phase because they made her smell the best.

I've lost it, I know.

On the road this morning, I thought about some of the greatest memories we've shared:

First, I guess I should explain why she is called the Swan. Once my dear friend Sam, not Nordic-looking Snakes Sam, but 05er Sam, and I were walking through West Lot to my car. Our friendship was fairly new at that point and he asked which car was mine. I said "this one," and he thought I said "the swan." When he saw her long curvaceous bod, we decided the name worked. And it stuck.

One of the earliest Swan memories was when Laura and I drove around Saratoga during our first fall at Skidmore because we wanted to listen to the new Strokes album not in the dorm and wasting gas wasn't a big deal back in those days. We were curious where the road went when North Broadway ends and began driving down it. We barely made it 100 yards before we freaked out. Too many horror movies--or pornos--start that way, so we backed out. I still have no idea where that road goes.

There was also a time during mono month when I was for some reason up at 3 am, probably because I had been sleeping all day, and Basil, Hunter, and I were hanging out in the Penfield lounge and decided we would take a trip to Wal-Mart. I needed Popsicles. I don't know what they needed. I was the only with a car. We were somewhere by the sports field when I just stopped driving. I didn't know how to drive anymore. I remembered I was on codeine and prednisone, and Basil took over. We had a lovely time at Wal-Mart, and I purchased Dole brand All Fruit Peach Popsicles.

The Swan also took me and many friends (Laura, Alissa, Deb, Sara, Dan, Miriam, Rebecca, Cliff, Mantonio, Myles, Sam, Mischa, Petria, Kira, Arianne, Sarah, Ariella, Shannon, Emily, Gwills, Chloe, & Dad) to many a place (NYC, Brooklyn, Northampton, Boston, Bard) for many a concert (Death Cab--We were only freshmen, okay?--, Sufjan x2, The Shins, Bloc Party, Modest Mouse, Four Tet, Spoon, Dunjen, Gang of Four, Wolf Parade, The Constantines, Why?, The Decemberists, Broken Social Scene, Feist, The English Beat, The Walkmen, Clipse, Peter Bjorn & John, Fujiya Miyagi, Snakes Say Hisss!, MGMT, The Weakerthans). I really think this is a completely accurate list of everyone who has ever taken a road trip in the Swan to go to a show, though I am likely missing a few bands thanks to CMJ and all their "showcases."

Of all these great road trips, the trip with Laura to see Bloc Party summer 2005 was the best. I was put on the list for the sold out show one day before the show thanks to my bud at AAM and for being a kickass music director. I decided whoever got to our lunch spot (Case patio, duh) first would be my plus one. I saw Miriam walking from the library, but Laura popped out of Case and beat her. I felt bad, but didn't know how else to do it. Laura and I left after work at 4, parked in some lot near Union Square, ate a quick dinner, enjoyed a great show (because Silent Alarm ruled, and this was pre-shitty Weekend in the City), ran into Laura's boyfriend Matt and his friends (surprise!), left NY at 1, arrived at our little abode on Ash Street at 4 am, and went to work at 10 the next morning. The only negative of this amazing 12-hour trip was that I broke an over 5-year, post-Fast Food Nation-reading no McDonald's streak. Oops.

The only other time I did the to NY and back in one night trip was with Shannon because same Mr. Nice Guy at AAM put me on PB&J list at the last minute. Our ride down was nice, it was the day after the last day of classes senior year, the show was great, but Shannon directed me on "short cut" through NJ after the show, but fell asleep before seeing me through execution of the short cut and didn't know where we were when she woke up and I was mean because I was tired and had to pee because I drank an extra large Red Bull and it really sucked and we got in a fight. We were fine the next day and remain great chums.

Why the f, am I still writing?

Swan, I will miss you. You brought me, friends, and music together in more ways than you will ever realize. I hope Christopher, your new owner, doesn't subject you to anything too bad. He was wearing am American Apparel hoodie this morning, so you'll probably be alright.

I am gonna go take a bike ride now cuz those are the only wheelz I got.

Exile from Saratogaville

Yesterday, on Facebook, I saw an ad for the 15th anniversary re release of Liz Phair's "Exile in Guyville." I am going two ways with this....

1) That means this album came out in 1993, which means I listened to this (on tape) when I was 8. And really liked it. And totally understood it all. And somehow kept songs like "Flower" out of the radar of parental supervision. Not that I had any clue what she was singing about.

2) Does Facebook have that function like Gmail does where it tailors ads on your page based on your content? This morning I saw both the Liz Phair ad and a Gossip Girl ad ("You know you love I'm coming out on DVD on 8/19. XOXO.") There are wee mentions of both of those things in my profile, so do they do that? Scan and advertise accordingly?* Or, does that mean my tastes are just super super mainstream? I would say yes, if this were about GG alone, but I kind of thought my rediscovery of "Exile in Guyville" was a personal one, found in the pages of Mark the Shark's karaoke book, a rebirth that prompted me to sing "Fuck and Run" while future roommate and I were texting about this album being written in Wicker Park while Wicker Park was on TV at the Alley... OK I know I wrote about this once before, but F U Facebook for making me feel like I have generic taste. 15th anniversary re release taste. This album came back to me for a reason.

*Update: Apparently, they do and they call this "niche advertising." Thanks, Devogatron.

*****

It's good that I am leaving in a week; this town is getting smaller daily. I keep thinking, when thinking about leaving, "this has been a _____ year," even though I should be thinking "these have been five ____ years." It's weird. I guess it's because I had my goodbye to Skidmore and those four years already, and even though I have stayed in the same place, this year and this town have been completely different from the ones that preceded it. It's also weird, that because of school, even though I am no longer in it, late August/September is always the mark of a new year for me. And I guess Travers night will be my New Year's Eve? Anyway, boring, self-reflection.

Someone bring me an Americano. Who wants to go to the Washington County Fair this week?

Why I Love/Hate Moving

I am the slowest mover/packer ever because I find random stuff I haven't laid eyes on for years and take the time to revisit it...and then blog about it.

I found on a photocopied page this little passage by my favorite writer of all time.


I don't know if a high school teacher gave this to me/us or if this was something I photocopied myself in college, but it's worth copying here:

"Many People in the East (or "back East," as they say in California, although not in LaScala or Ernie's) do not believe this. They have been to Los Angeles or to San Francisco, have driven through a giant redwood and have seen the Pacific glazed by the afternoon sun off Big Sur, and they naturally tend to believe that they have in fact been to California. They have not been, and they probably will never be, for it is a longer and in many ways more difficult trip than they may want to undertake, one of those trips on which the destination flickers chimerically on the horizon, ever receding, ever diminishing...California is a place in which a boom mentality and a sense of Chekhovian loss meet in uneasy suspension; in which the mind is troubled by some buried but ineradicable suspicion that things had better work here, because here, beneath that immense bleached sky, is where we run out of continent."

And so I'm only going half way (back)... to start.

Hottiez

I also watched part of Mean Girls last night. (The weather's been crummy as hell okay!) It was on TV. I often choose to watch movies when they are on TV even if I own the DVD and could watch a commercial-free and swearing-full version. It blows my mind (well, a little) that Ms DJ here on the left, LiLo's love, sings the saptastic song playing at Spring Fling. The scene in which:

Aaron: How's your stomach feeling now?
Cady: Fine.
Aaron: Well, "grool."
{Kiss}

Yeah, that song.

Thanks, Skidmore. Thanks, Study Abroad in Paris.

When I first told people--people like adults and family members, that is--I was going to part time hostess at Chez Sophie last fall, they all said things like "Perfect!," "You can speak French!," "Of course, our petite francophile!" (Okay, so this is a bit of an exaggeration). I, however, in the past 10 months of working there (holy shit, has it been 10 months?) have spoken very little French. I can pronounce items on the menu better than some, but I never have French conversations. Probably because not that many French people live in Saratoga, or visit Saratoga, and people who don't speak French are still allowed to eat in our restaurant! Odd, I know, because I always make sure to brush up on my Thai before going to the Garden and my Italian before hitting Chianti's. Weird. I guess we are less demanding of our clientele. Anyway...

Tonight a party of four came in, I took them to the table, and the older woman said, "Brrrr.... il fait froid." Woohoo, I thought. I responded in English that I would turn down the AC. The husband was so delighted I could understand French and asked me my name "Comment tu t'appelles?" "Leeeleee" je dit. "Ah! Je t'aime Leeleee!" Yes, they loved me because I could comprehend "Brrrr." The Bulgarian busser would have been totally dumbfounded by what that lady was saying as she rubbed her hands over her bare arms. Completely.

When they left, the husband "bised" me and we exchanged our "au revoirs" and "a bientots." It was all very cute and they were pleasant people, but really, that tiny bit of French knowledge, totally comprehensible by the body language alone, impressed them? Well, gee.

*****

I am listening to "Say Yes" by Elliott Smith right now because I watched Good Will Hunting last night and this song has been stuck in my head all day and sometimes listening to stuck songs unsticks them. If not, oh well; it's pretty.

12 days and beacoup a faire!

LG the next LC?

Last night, Jocelyn, Moira, Ben, Johnny, and I were befriended by the CFO of CMT, MTV, and VH1.

Blah, blah, blah lots of funny things were said. I'll probably expand this post later, but I just realized the Farmer's Market clock is ticking.

I asked him if he could get me on TV.
Yeah, you could be on TV.
Cool. Can I have your card?
[Hands me his American Express]
Um, your business card?
[Hands me and Jocelyn his whole wallet]
I don't see any business cards. Nevermind. I'll find my own way on to the Hills.
How do I get back to Hoboken?
Tonight? From here? We're in Saratoga.
Oh. Shit.

"Club Rules"

The Burkes, Jocelyn, Bob, and I played mini golf tonight in Milton. Not to be confused with Wilton. Last year when I went there I lost pretty badly against Laura and Matt, but tonight I redeemed myself. Second place. I am proud of this. Even though someone today mentioned a No Fear t-shirt that reads "Second Place is the First Loser." F that. I say F because there was a No Cursing sign at the start of the course, which is really quite the challenge when you are dealing with mysterious bumps in the astroturf and rivers whose water looks like airplane toilet fluid. I started saying "How rude" (Stephanie Tanner, thank you) when the ball or terrain did something unpleasant, but started saying "bitches" pretty quickly when the bugs started biting. I was scorekeeper and clever me revealed the winners and losers Project Runway style.... though it was a challenge to be both Heidi Klum the judge ("You may leave the runway") and Heidi Klum the contestant ("I am leaving the runway")... and Heidi Klum eatintg soft serve ("Yum... but Farmer's Daughter is better"). Bob captured great photos tonight which I hope he will share on the Book.

At karaoke I sang the Gin Blossoms'"Hey Jealousy," "Sk8r Boi" (again), and "Fuck and Run" by Liz Phair. While waiting to be Liz Phair, I noticed the smaller TV at the Alley was showing the movie Wicker Park. I rented Wicker Park a few nights ago, even though it's a terrible movie, because I am on a Chicago kick (duh), so I recognized the scene right away. I texted my new roomie to tell her that was on. How weird, I thought. Movies are never on at the Alley. Just sports and news. That movie of all movies. A sign. I then said I was waiting to sing "F and Run" by Liz Phair. She replied that Liz wrote that album while living in WP. (Ally, I am not stealing your synchronicity theme, but really, how weird).

When I finally got up to sing the song, which a lot of people did not know, and got to the line "Fuck and run, even when I was 12," Ally yelled, "slut." The woman in front of her had just taken a pretty shoddy pool shot and thought Ally was talking to her. How rude that would have been. Needless to say some clarifications needed to be made.

.....

I am flying when I move afterall. No father daughter road trip. Long story.

.....

Lights out at 3. Club rules. Goodnight.

Hey, Stud

I am surrounded by ugly art right now and I can't talk about it because I am with Bob, and Bob knows the artist who is somewhere around here still putting up hideous paintings, so I am gonna blog about it instead. Lucky you. I think I will go outside to take a walk soon because I don't think I can look at "Piggy Back Nymphs" any longer. The nymphs look like the Planter's Peanuts guy, but have tails and horns. The tails and horns have leaves on them. Branches, I suppose. Basically they are peanut-shaped trees, one giving the other a piggyback ride through a universe of grass-covered orbs. At sunset. Pink, purple, and orange sunset.

For sale. $425. My birthday's in March.

.....

Last night, Chicago roomie texted me (from the Battles show, so jealous) "You move to Chicago this month!"

It is true, and I am excited.

.....

Ally just walked in, while I was finishing up this post, and said "I had to come in here and see [person's name]'s art!" The art that I am blogging about. And don't like. And she wants to buy one. She is a foot away from me and won't know I'm blogging about this and her until sometime later today when she reads this and will say to herself: "synchronicity!"

I'm gonna board the midnight train. I got to go, I got to go.

I am listening to "American Boy" right now by Estelle and Kanye and just noticed a lyric for the first time: "I'm feeling like the Pips and the Gladys." However, I Googled the lyrics out of curiosity, and they are listed as "I'm feeling like the pimps at their gladdest." Hmmm. The reason I am writing this is because I took Gladys Knight's room service order on Thursday night. I don't deliver the room service, just take the orders, but I talked to her. She told me her name was Raven.

I was excited by celebrity encounter #2 of track season, but only a select few of my friends knew who she was when I told the story. Maybe I am crazy, got the Pips on the brain, and imagined this Kanye lyric. But, I think I am right and the lyric transcribers are just like the dumb people who said "Gladys who?"

Ever since people at the restaurant realized I can communicate with the kitchen staff and type, I now "do" the menu. Last night we had a Kona kampachi cooked in the Bercy style which means with "shallots, white whine and fish stock." And that is exactly what I wrote. The owner approached me and asked how the fish was cooked. I noticed the typo right away. Oops. The mistake was noted before I filled all the menus and gave them to any guests, and she considered leaving it on there to see who would catch it, who would chuckle. It probably would have added some humor to an otherwise tense and grumpy night. I think that typo is a sign I spend too much thinking about white whines, looking at the website White Whine, and just whining in general.

.....

On a more serious note, the last of three cats I have liked in my lifetime died yesterday. My dad found their cat Junior in a woodchuck trap last night. I really can't imagine. He sounded really upset and said he never wants another pet because he gets too attached. This makes me truly sad. I tried to find an appropriate condolence gift when I was in town today to bring when I go over there for dinner tomorrow night, but didn't have any luck.

.....

I have exactly three weeks and so much to do.

I echo: "Oh, Saratoga"

A few questions & observations.

City Hall
I've wondered for quite sometime about the birds that chirp when I walk by here at night. I always mean to ask someone about this, but I usually pass "them" when I am leaving the restaurant alone and headed to meet friends. Tonight, I headed straight home, and so now I ask the blogger world (aka my friends, digitalized): what is their purpose? I know they aren't real. Is that some sort of alarm? Someone please explain.

Creepy Goblin Dolls
Today, I heard a woman say to her husband, "Oh, I love those. We should get one for the downstairs bathroom" about the long-haired, red-eyed goblin dolls that stand in the window of the gift store in the Arcade building. They have scared me probably since my freshmen year of college. Why do they exist?

Caroline Street
I also heard a lady say, "Oh, honey, that's the street that scares me. Let's not turn down there" when passing the intersection of Broadway and Caroline today. This time of year, I almost agree. But this was late morning when she said this. Again, don't get it.

ICU Optics
I C U Optics. Clever, I guess. I see you. I can see you because I have great glasses from this store. Still, I think this is a terrible name for a store. I hear "ICU," I think "Intensive Care Unit." Maybe that's just me. Maybe I watched too much "ER" in my youth.

That's all. I wasn't walking around town today, wondering "what can I blog about?" (This would probably be a more interesting post if I had been.) I think I am just super observant lately. Probably because I am leaving soon. Taking it all in while I still can?

In other news, last summer a very nice old man struck up conversation with me one lunch break while I was reading Absurdistan outside Uncommon. He wanted to know about the book. Then we got into a long talk about politics and discoverd he had audited one of my favorite Skidmore government classes. We chatted a few more times after that, but then one day I waved and he didn't register it, so I stopped waving. I've probably seen him every day since, and we haven't spoken. I didn't take offense. He's old. Bad vision or bad memory, whatever. Today, he and I were both on the corner waiting for the light to change, and he turned to me and said "HEY! I know you!" We let the light flip from red hand to little man quite a few times and caught up. It was nice. He wished me well in my "future endeavors."

I like this bizzare little place.

Inked

Addendum... because there had to be a "woof" to yesterday.

"Is that a vine or a dragon?" I had to ask someone last night.

In addition to the year of nicknames, this has also been the year of bad tatoos. I don't really know which has been the worst of the worst. Probably the tatoo of the last paragraph of the Great Gatsby, point 8 font, on the wrist. That was seen at a party in Williamsburg this winter.

Or the giant turnip?

Tuesdays

Yesterday was one of the best full days of summer to date, so instead of trying to leave the house just yet and make this one top it, which it won't, I'm going to sit here in front of my AC and write about it.

I spent the early part of the day at Peerless with my stepmom, stepaunt, and my cousins Graham, 6, and Dylan, 4. Peerless usually makes me anxious and overwhelmed, and I would much prefer to be at the Vic, but it was fun being there yesterday and being cool cousin "Yi-yy." My cousins are the cutest boys ever. I wish I took pictures. We played all sorts of pool games and had a picnic. They left in the early afternoon, and I stayed at the pool for about 2 more hours (all the day camps had left, so there was some peace) because the sun was high and my book (The Devil in the White City) has got me hooked.

In the evening, Moira, Kara, Caitlin, Jocelyn, Bob, and I went to a Saratoga Phillies game at East Side Rec. It wasn't a thrilling game, but fun regardless.

It was a Tuesday, so of course, this perfect summer day ended with a perfect summer karaoke night at the Alley. Lately I have been describing good karaoke nights as "epic," but I mainly do that to make the people who leave early or don't come at all feel bad. I use this a lot on my friend Jake who used to come all the time, but now works on a farm and wakes up early and lives in Greenwich, so he doesn't come anymore, and it's a shame. I don't really know why last night was epic. It's a sort of "you had to be there" scenario. Good thing that the few people who read my blog were! Bob stayed out! Ally (duh) and Dede came. Some Skidmore kids came. I sang "Allison" by Elvis Costello (for Ally). I also tried a new song: "So Far Away" by Carole King, and was apparently dressed well for it.



I did some "vintage" pop stuff (ie "Sk8r Boi") when the Skidmore theatre (loud) kids arrived. Two theatre majors told me I was better than Avril herself, so really my life is fulfilled now.

We met a lot of interesting characters.

The night ended with Ally, Dede, and I dancing on the sidewalk to "American Boy" playing in someone's pick-up on the corner of Circular and Caroline, our parting intersection.

Oh, Saratoga.

It's Probably How the Native Americans Discovered Popcorn

I went to my dad and stepmom's today because my step aunt, uncle, and cousins are in town from Portland, OR. I got there while all but my dad were over in Manchester, so Dad and I got to have some quality one-on-one, which lately means he has stuff to show me on YouTube because he's cool. Today, he showed me this:

Téléphone Portable + Maïs = Pop-corn - Videos buzz

I think it's supposed to scare me, but I kind of want to give it a try. Looks fun.

In other news, Dad and I sat on the porch with a map and a calendar and planned the drive to Chicago. I now have a date of departure. I am thankful Dad will be driving me and helping me move in. It will make it easier. I hate the physical act of moving, especially in the summertime, but it will be different than how I imagined it; I imagined moving alone, I guess.

The rest of the fam came back and I sat outside with my 6 year-old cousin playing with his new science kit for a long while. We made glow in the dark dough and alien blood. I wish we could have done the cell phone experiment, too, but we didn't have popcorn.

Woof of the day: I want to know the identities of the tools on the back of the new Skidmore SCOPE wearing green and yellow mix matched (as in one has each color)Converse with their graduation gowns. Creative Thought Matters. Yeah. Good one.

85 Degrees. Feels Like 86.

Last summer I had only one encounter with a minor celebrity. Bobby Flay. And he was a jerk to me and Laura.

This track season I expect I will have a few more since I am now working in the restaurant biz.

I had my first last night. Server Scott came up to the host desk and asked me if I had ever seen Happy Gilmore. I told him, yes, but that it had been awhile. He asked if I remembered the character Striker, or Slider, or something like that. The bad guy. I said I thought so, wondering why he would be brining this up. He told me to go look at table 11. He was pretty sure that Sniper was at his table. The guy looked familiar and I returned to the host desk to IMDB it. Surely it was Christopher McDonald. Shooter from Happy Gilmore.

(He was also on the "hit" show Veronica's Closet and in over 50 other movies, including The Faculty, which is coincidental because it seems as if every celebrity my high school friend Katherine and I have encountered post-high school is somehow linked to someone we mildly obsessed over in high school...Bobby Flay is an exception to that rule.)

So, later in the night, Shooter decided to buy a piece of art that was on display at the restaurant and wanted to do some calculations. He asked me if I had a calculator and someone suggested just using the one on the laptop. I said sure and then realized the browser was open to his IMDB profile, so I kept the computer closed and told him it would be easier to just use the one on my cell phone. So we used my cell phone calculator.

That's my story.

In other news, Emily was here. It was nice. Except we reminisced too much about last summer.

According to weather.com it's 85 degrees today, but feels like 86.

Instructions for Leading Obnoxious, but Mildly Entertaining Conversations

In a small crowd of self-proclaimed hipsters (if they are real hipsters, they won't proclaim this), follow one of the two following paths:

1. Ask which Cat Power album they like best. Whatever they say, insist that the last album, The Greatest, was truly the greatest Cat Power album. They may agree, they may fight you on this, but defend it with zeal and using only the words "great," "greater," and "greatest." It's fun.

2. Ask where they stand on the Mars Volta vs. At the Drive-In debate. If you are really brave, claim you think Sparta should be given some credit, too. They might even be the greatest. Wait for someone to say they had this debate already in 2003 when Deloused came out.

(Inspired by real events... last week)

Peachy

I have this fear that if I talk too much about the good things that come my way, something really bad will happen. (I guess that's pretty common...like HPV). But, I'm happy right now and I'm gonna write about it.

I am happy because I just returned from a pretty hastily planned Chicago trip. I now have a rad apartment with a rad roommate named Lauren on a tree-lined, brick-building-lined street between Ukranian Village and Wicker Park. My interviews were good, but I am going to spare details and let my superstition rule me on this one. I saw Chloe and Chelsea. I saw Amanda before she goes to Paris. We drank wine outdoors on Bastille Day and watched little boys play baseball in Welles Park. I stayed with Maggie and Peter and had a lovely time with both of them even though they took me to a really shitty Thai restaurant on my first night, but made up for it with great falafel, my own key, Office DVDs, a comfy couch, train and bus assistance, a good cereal collection, drinks at Bluebird, and their proximity to Trader Joes (45 second walk!). I learned that Jewel is to Dominick's what Price Chopper is to Hannaford's. I had dinner in Andersonville with a family friend I haven't seen in years. I walked miles and miles. I got tan and freckled. I sunned, read, talked, and walked on the beach and waded in Lake Michigan. I found an Amy Hempel book for $3. I made friends with the owner of a vintage store and got a large discount on a dress and sandals. I ran into one of my favorite clients from ex-job at Midway and shared flight back to Albany with him. I remembered I had beer and cable in my room upon my return and just watched last night's premiere of Project Runway. I am really excited about everything. Especially my beautiful apartment because it's the most tangible object of all this right now.

Don't worry, tomorrow I will probably go back to whining. I forsee an influx of slow walkers on Broadway and an increase in craziness at the restaurant....Woof!

What Dave has done

DM and DMB have brought oh so many people enlightenment. Really, I have heard them say that. It could also be really good pot, but whatever.

Yesterday, DM finally helped me open my eyes.

I was walking down Maple Ave towards the house where I am house/catsitting and heard music in the distance. It sounded blocks away. Band practice, I thought. Wonder what Skidmore kids I'll pass by... As I came closer, I realized they were covering "Crash." (Yes, even though I do not like DM & DMB, I can identify a few songs. Duh.) But no, it was no live band. It was a recording. A really jazzed up, almost elevator music version, but with lyrics intact, blasting from someone's porch speakers. There was no one on the porch. No one in the yard. No sign of anyone in first floor of the house. Just Dave, as the true fans call him, blasting for the listening enjoyment of the entire North Broadway neighborhood. Gee, thanks, neighbor.

But really, gee thanks, Dave. I have been getting quite sad lately about leaving Saratoga. Each summer day, I think, shit, son, this will be a hard place to leave. Just like that. My words. Summer here is magical. And this is my fourth summer at that! And I'm still loving it. But because of this experience yesterday, I am ready to move on. Call me a snob, call me naive, but I am convinced this will not happen in a city. This will not happen where they have guns. Nope.