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.