Dear Upstairs Neighbor,
My sincerest apology if I scared the beejeesus out of you this morning. Your apartment was not being broken into. I mistook your apartment, on the third floor, for mine, on the second floor. You can understand how easily that second floor slipped right past me as I was climbing the stairs, right?
If you suffered any trauma or damages to your property when I was banging on the door and cursing, such as shitting your pants or wetting the bed, I will gladly reimburse you. It's the least I can do for not realizing the reason my key wasn't working wasn't the doors fault, it was my own stupidity hard at work.
Were you able to get back to sleep? I know 6:30 a.m. is a bit on the early side for your morning to start. I usually don't hear you until at least 7:45. I hope you were able to enjoy a good breakfast with the extra time I provided you. Hey, maybe some afternoon we could even meet in person for the first time and share a laugh over this little incident. Whadaya say?
Sincerely,
The Moron Who Lives Below You
July 31, 2009
July 29, 2009
Can Tomorrow NOT Be Like Today?
I firmly believe that every kitchen cupboard in every home should always have sprinkles handy. No matter if there are kids around or not. You just never know when there will be a need for sprinkles.
Rainbow colored sprinkles to be exact. They always seem to turn my mood around -- try swearing, or crying, while eating something with sprinkles, I think you'll agree that it's more than challenging. I've even started my day with rainbow sprinkled oatmeal with bananas. Or on my yogurt.
We've already established that I'm a pretty simple chic. I don't require a lot of maintenence. I don't need all the extra drama. I prefer things natural and easy going. So I like knowing that if I've had one of those days (I have) ....the kind where riding the train in an endless loop sounds like a good way to spend the remainder of the day....or playing hide and go seek, with no one seeking.....I like knowing that it will only take some rainbow colored sprinkles to make me feel better.
Rainbow colored sprinkles to be exact. They always seem to turn my mood around -- try swearing, or crying, while eating something with sprinkles, I think you'll agree that it's more than challenging. I've even started my day with rainbow sprinkled oatmeal with bananas. Or on my yogurt.
We've already established that I'm a pretty simple chic. I don't require a lot of maintenence. I don't need all the extra drama. I prefer things natural and easy going. So I like knowing that if I've had one of those days (I have) ....the kind where riding the train in an endless loop sounds like a good way to spend the remainder of the day....or playing hide and go seek, with no one seeking.....I like knowing that it will only take some rainbow colored sprinkles to make me feel better.
July 28, 2009
Clean up in aisle 7
Ok WTF?!
Let's talk groceries. Specifically bad taste, band wagons, shortcomings and science projects. All of which somehow came into my knowledge within the past 24 hours. And I'm not joking.
I mistakenly selected a new flavor of Yoplait Light yogurt from the dairy case yesterday. I didn't realize until I got home that it was Cinnamon Bun flavor. I don't even like cinnamon rolls so imagine my disgust to find that I had brought home the cold, fat free, dairy version of one. But I'm sort of frugal. So I figured......it must have some redeeming quality since the taste testing focus groups held across the country voted yay to seeing it on the supermarket shelves.
Well, apparently this country's taste testers HAVE LOST EVERY LAST ONE OF THEIR TASTE BUDS FROM SMOKING ALL THE CRACK. Fuck frugal. It went into the trash faster than icing melts on hot buns.
Next: Little Debbie, yeah that whore, has apparently jumped on the 100 calorie band wagon and is now pushing her snack-wrapped crack-cakes to 'health conscious' snackers who can't bear the thought of denying their lust for Little Debbie while they work to take off that pesky 100 pounds they somehow picked up.
Take for example the Nutty Bar. The glorious ooey-gooey wafer bar drenched in chocolate and wrapped two in a package. Now there's a single wrapped bar option which short changes you on the chocolate and calls itself a 100 calorie deal. As if you should be THANKFUL that Little Debbie has provided you her baked goods in a healthier version. Sorry Debbie, you don't go to the strip club hoping to find someone to take brisk Sunday afternoon walks with. You go in knowing full well what you are getting into. And that it's going to cost you a whole lot. Same thing with your Nutty Bars. If I'm going to do it, I'll do it knowing damn well that there's a days worth of calories nestled between those delicious wafers of yours. You've always been better at playing the temptress, Little D. Now is not the time to try mend your evil ways.
Then there was today's embarrassment for my Sargento "light" string cheese. I was pleased as punch to find this lower calorie version at my Jewel. Normally I purchase the Trader Joe "light" string cheese but I wasn't going to make it there yesterday and I was out. Well, imagine my surprise when I took Sarge out of the package only to find that it was noticeably shorter compared to Joe. So much so that I immediately thought about what they say to middle aged men who drive sport cars...."Nice car. Sorry about your penis." I considered that what Sarge lacked in size he made up for in taste. Meh. So-so. I guess Sargento feels better about its shortcomings by marketing itself as "light" rather than "inadequate." Whatever works for you dear. I'm usually not a picky girl when it comes to these things, but I think I prefer my inch more from Joe. What a stud.
And last, you probably want to hear about the science project. Now, I will say that I have yet to validate this, but it comes to me from a trusted source. Apparently, if you put bologna in direct sunlight it will tan. Great. Just when I thought bologna couldn't be more disgusting I find out this gross little factoid. I promise if I'm ever walking down the sidewalk and there's a piece of bologna lying there, tanning, you'll see a girl hurl.
Let's talk groceries. Specifically bad taste, band wagons, shortcomings and science projects. All of which somehow came into my knowledge within the past 24 hours. And I'm not joking.
I mistakenly selected a new flavor of Yoplait Light yogurt from the dairy case yesterday. I didn't realize until I got home that it was Cinnamon Bun flavor. I don't even like cinnamon rolls so imagine my disgust to find that I had brought home the cold, fat free, dairy version of one. But I'm sort of frugal. So I figured......it must have some redeeming quality since the taste testing focus groups held across the country voted yay to seeing it on the supermarket shelves.
Well, apparently this country's taste testers HAVE LOST EVERY LAST ONE OF THEIR TASTE BUDS FROM SMOKING ALL THE CRACK. Fuck frugal. It went into the trash faster than icing melts on hot buns.
Next: Little Debbie, yeah that whore, has apparently jumped on the 100 calorie band wagon and is now pushing her snack-wrapped crack-cakes to 'health conscious' snackers who can't bear the thought of denying their lust for Little Debbie while they work to take off that pesky 100 pounds they somehow picked up.
Take for example the Nutty Bar. The glorious ooey-gooey wafer bar drenched in chocolate and wrapped two in a package. Now there's a single wrapped bar option which short changes you on the chocolate and calls itself a 100 calorie deal. As if you should be THANKFUL that Little Debbie has provided you her baked goods in a healthier version. Sorry Debbie, you don't go to the strip club hoping to find someone to take brisk Sunday afternoon walks with. You go in knowing full well what you are getting into. And that it's going to cost you a whole lot. Same thing with your Nutty Bars. If I'm going to do it, I'll do it knowing damn well that there's a days worth of calories nestled between those delicious wafers of yours. You've always been better at playing the temptress, Little D. Now is not the time to try mend your evil ways.
Then there was today's embarrassment for my Sargento "light" string cheese. I was pleased as punch to find this lower calorie version at my Jewel. Normally I purchase the Trader Joe "light" string cheese but I wasn't going to make it there yesterday and I was out. Well, imagine my surprise when I took Sarge out of the package only to find that it was noticeably shorter compared to Joe. So much so that I immediately thought about what they say to middle aged men who drive sport cars...."Nice car. Sorry about your penis." I considered that what Sarge lacked in size he made up for in taste. Meh. So-so. I guess Sargento feels better about its shortcomings by marketing itself as "light" rather than "inadequate." Whatever works for you dear. I'm usually not a picky girl when it comes to these things, but I think I prefer my inch more from Joe. What a stud.
And last, you probably want to hear about the science project. Now, I will say that I have yet to validate this, but it comes to me from a trusted source. Apparently, if you put bologna in direct sunlight it will tan. Great. Just when I thought bologna couldn't be more disgusting I find out this gross little factoid. I promise if I'm ever walking down the sidewalk and there's a piece of bologna lying there, tanning, you'll see a girl hurl.
July 26, 2009
Alberto Contador, The Criterium and me
The Chicago Criterium 2009
I spent the day in the loop today being a spectator at the 2nd Criterium held in Chicago. Cyclists from all over came to compete and many fans, friends and family lined the route to cheer their rider on. While I didn't have one rider in particular to cheer on, it didn't matter. The talent of all these athletes deserves cheering for.
I wish I had started biking along time ago. As it stands, I've really only been biking a few short months. Since starting back in May I've already participated in three organized Chicago events: Bike the Drive, Bike to Work and the L.A.T.E. Ride. I've also ridden the North Branch trail twice. Being on my bike makes me happy.
I am reminded of my mom telling me her story of how she became an avid cyclist -- and in the beginning not one with a fancy shirt and matching shorts or helmet or fancy clip pedals. She became a cyclist because she had to. Her bike was all she had to call her own after a very big life change. After I was born she continued to ride and I have many memories of being in her bike seat. I also remember the four of us riding the back country roads as a family. Her blue bike even became the one I rode when I was big enough to reach the pedals.
And now I find myself on the seat of another one of mom's bikes. This time it is a fancy bike that does have clip pedals and fancy upgrades. Some she added, some I have added. No matter what I put on it additionally, the bare bones frame and two tires represent something very similar to me that mom's first bike meant to her. It's what I have to depend on. This bike gets me to places on the day to day (work, grocery store, errands) and on those other days it gets me far away. As far away as my legs will go. I am starting again, on my own this time, and this bike accompanies on my journey.
Sometimes the road seems to end or the daylight runs out before I get to where I need to be. And I don't mean the destination. I mean where I need to be in my head. When I bike I find myself focusing on so much of the tension that swims in my head -- with each turn of the wheel, I fit another puzzle piece together and the picture continues to take shape.
I had a class in college that was a mandatory seminar for Seniors. Supposedly it was to prepare us for the stress that was to come with graduation and I guess the "start to life." Except that I had already been living real life --renting at 18, full time work and full time school-- so it seems this class was about six years too late on the whole helping deal with stress theme. Who's bitter? In this class, which involved a lot of journaling, we were asked to share what our "flow" was. Well, I couldn't come up with one. At all. In fact, I still have the journal and just flipped back to recall what I had come up with. I had written, "cleaning." Yep. How sad is that? But I wasn't riding a bike then. If I were to be asked to complete that assignment today I wouldn't even hesitate. It's biking.
So for all of you who are years ahead of me on this, I am happy to join you in the peloton. I'm really very comfortable here in the middle and I thank you for pulling me along while I learn the ropes and take in the sights. I'll do the same for you when I get stronger.
The peloton travels as an integrated unit, like birds flying in formation, each rider making slight adjustments in response to the riders around him (or her) (particularly the one in front of each). When developed, riders at the front are exposed to higher loads, and will tend to slip off the front in order to rejoin the pack further back. In some cases, with sufficient room to maneuver, this will develop into a fluid situation where the center of the peloton appears to be pushing through its own leadingJuly 13, 2009
I Double Dog Dare Me
Shit.
I realize I've been getting a little too complacent in my old age. I get into my groove and look up to realize half a year is gone and I haven't done anything much out of the ordinary. I haven't sought any excitement. That's not how I promised myself I would grow old. New adventures, new experiences. Small ones, big ones, life changing ones....anything as long as it's constantly new. This time a few years ago I was stranded in the desert wondering if the tow truck would actually come find us and even if they did, would the bike start? You talk about out of the ordinary...try watching the sunset in the mountains of the Arizona desert and realizing very quickly that there are no street lamps that will flicker on once that sun passes the horizon. But eventually the tow came and the adventure turned into a great story to tell. And that's important. It's not my money or status or age or beauty (OK, yeah that matters some) rather it is is when I am in a conversation that my audience finds me captivating.
And captivating isn't easy. I know, because I am continually working on it.
You'd think my fear of being boring would overwhelmingly admonish the complacency trait. The small voice in the back of my skull (that we ALL have) is constantly wondering if the words coming out of my mouth are intriguing to the listener. I honestly will say there are many a time when that little voice will say, "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP" but it's as if the words are riding an express bus out of my mouth. If there are interesting stories being delivered on that express bus it redeems my conversation.
But you have to do shit to have shit to talk about.
Don't get me wrong, I love my routine. I love that I only have to consider one source (ME) and I am really easy to please so I play well with myself....oh stop giggling, that's not what I meant. I don't have to check-in or worry about conflicts. I do whatever floats my boat. Granted it's a little old row boat, but it's afloat.
But I'll admit, it gets lonely in my row boat. I would love to row up to a passing dock and take on a traveling companion once in awhile. I love to hear stories. I love to share my stories. I continue to believe that you experience things each and every day, but if you aren't able to experience them with someone occasionally it will feel like you imagined it. That passenger can assure you that you didn't.
If you are ever interested in sharing some stories with a girl in her row boat, just wave from the beach. I'd be happy to make room for the adventure.
I realize I've been getting a little too complacent in my old age. I get into my groove and look up to realize half a year is gone and I haven't done anything much out of the ordinary. I haven't sought any excitement. That's not how I promised myself I would grow old. New adventures, new experiences. Small ones, big ones, life changing ones....anything as long as it's constantly new. This time a few years ago I was stranded in the desert wondering if the tow truck would actually come find us and even if they did, would the bike start? You talk about out of the ordinary...try watching the sunset in the mountains of the Arizona desert and realizing very quickly that there are no street lamps that will flicker on once that sun passes the horizon. But eventually the tow came and the adventure turned into a great story to tell. And that's important. It's not my money or status or age or beauty (OK, yeah that matters some) rather it is is when I am in a conversation that my audience finds me captivating.
And captivating isn't easy. I know, because I am continually working on it.
You'd think my fear of being boring would overwhelmingly admonish the complacency trait. The small voice in the back of my skull (that we ALL have) is constantly wondering if the words coming out of my mouth are intriguing to the listener. I honestly will say there are many a time when that little voice will say, "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP" but it's as if the words are riding an express bus out of my mouth. If there are interesting stories being delivered on that express bus it redeems my conversation.
But you have to do shit to have shit to talk about.
Don't get me wrong, I love my routine. I love that I only have to consider one source (ME) and I am really easy to please so I play well with myself....oh stop giggling, that's not what I meant. I don't have to check-in or worry about conflicts. I do whatever floats my boat. Granted it's a little old row boat, but it's afloat.
But I'll admit, it gets lonely in my row boat. I would love to row up to a passing dock and take on a traveling companion once in awhile. I love to hear stories. I love to share my stories. I continue to believe that you experience things each and every day, but if you aren't able to experience them with someone occasionally it will feel like you imagined it. That passenger can assure you that you didn't.
If you are ever interested in sharing some stories with a girl in her row boat, just wave from the beach. I'd be happy to make room for the adventure.
July 6, 2009
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