Wednesday, April 30, 2008
I feel like it's a gift from the universe, like finding a twenty in my coat pocket. But when I think about it, it's not. It's just me realizing I was stupid - stupid to forget payday, stupid to leave a Jackson in a coat pocket. I mean, who does that?
People who are bad with money, that's who.
So there's that,
To Laura Meyer
What's up with the blog???? I miss your entries!
Loved the quotation marks one. What do you think about apostrophe misuse? There are 2 in Jasper that are really close to each other. The Great Wall is now "hiring server's" and the gun place going the other way to
Celestine is "------ Bait and Gun's".
I thought of you when I saw those.
Field trip to the zoo Friday--might try to "leave" some of my kids there. (like the quotation marks?)
Sorry, I've been out of commission for the past few days. I wrenched my back in the shower on Monday morning, and I've been out until today - I could barely sit at a computer, let alone go to the bathroom. I went to the chiropractor, who scolded me for not stretching properly before and after working out...then told me to lose weight. Ha!
Love the quotes! Which zoo are you going to? By "leave" do you mean "toss into the gorilla den"? Let me "know".
Love you and see you soon!
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Dad: "I was in my bathroom, and I heard this sound like thunder or a train. I'm serious, Laura; I didn't know an earthquake would make a sound like that. I expected the ceiling to rip off the roof if it was a tornado. Under my feet...."
Me: "You could feel the earth move?" (I was trying to make a joke about the Carole King song.)
Dad: (Completely missing it.) "Yeah, the floor moved up and down under my feet, dropping 2 inches out from under me. I went over to the window, because I thought it was either a tornado or a spaceship had landed. I'm serious, Laura. The sky was perfectly clear, and there was no spaceship, so I knew it must have been an earthquake."
That's my dad - a true believer in the paranormal. I remember watching Close Encounters of the Third Kind with him when I was really little. We were sitting on this yellow flowery couch in the living room, and I got really scared when the aliens finally came out at the end of the movie. I mean come on - shadowy, spidery figures coming out from a bright light? Scared the crap out of me.
But I still remember him, almost weepy, saying it was such a beautiful moment. That it would be so amazing to see other lifeforms from outer space in our time. He wouldn't believe that aliens would pose a threat to us, because as he put it, "why would someone travel all this way through space and time to start a war?"
How sweet is that?
Before then, I was afraid of aliens. Afraid they were hiding in the basement, that they left lights on down there to lure me to them. When my parents' alarm clock would go off in the middle of the day (I think it just went off every 12 hours, I never understood it), I was afraid they were setting it off and hiding behind the bed waiting for me to come in and shut it off. Pretty much every time something odd happened, I would think it was an alien conspiracy.
But once I knew that Dad was cool with them, I got over it. I shifted my fear of alarm clocks and basements on Freddie Kruger and ventriloquist dolls.
So there's that,
Friday, April 18, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
- My neighbors. who. smoke. And it comes through the walls so I can faintly smell it when I come into the kitchen. Does the indoor smoking ban in Chicago extend to apartment buildings????
- My various neighbors. who. smoke. pot. And the smell comes through my walls, and into the hallway. Then the smell of nag champa later on. Seriously? Last night my hallway smelled like an opium den.
- I know this is probably a big middle finger to some readers, but I'm pretty much done with adults who smoke pot; moreover, with adults who still smoke it like they're getting back at the man, for the minute thrill of breaking the law and getting away with it. Then they light incense to cover it up. If you were a real badass, you would smoke it on the street so you could really risk getting caught. I just don't get that culture. Marijuana doesn't make you part of an elite counterculture. Yeah I'm addicted to food, but I'd rather that than something I have to pay a high overhead for a very little amount. No pun intended. Seriously - how can people afford drugs?
- Excessive horn-honking. What the hell?! We know you're annoyed the first time you honk at the guy in front of you for missing the perfectly good opportunity to make a left turn that narrowly avoids the oncoming drivers; by the fifth time, it's just pointless. I just want to bang on your windows when I'm walking by and yell "HONK!HONK!HONK!"
- Moms who cross the street with a baby in the stroller, and a toddler tagging along...when the light is about to turn green. Let's get this straight: It's okay for me to cross the street when the hand is flashing; I have nothing to live for. But when you drag your babies into it, then I don't see why the state hasn't visited your home yet.
- The 148 bus. Why can't there be less crowded ones when I want them?
- Washing out my stinky sports bra. I need, like, 3 more to put into the rotation.
- Starbucks. It really isn't all that great. Now Lavazza on the other hand....I had a latte there the other day that I can't stop thinking about.
- Madonna. I'm just not interested anymore.
- Top 40 radio. I hear the same 6-8 songs every hour, and "Low" (Flo-Rida featuring T-Pain) at least 5 times every hour. I used to be able to get down with shorty in her apple bottom jeans and boots with the fur, but now I'm getting a little tired of the whole charade.
- American Idol's David Archuletta. I can only take so many "inspirational performances" from each contestant. You used up all yours at least 6 episodes ago. By the way - is this the same kid who at the audition said he used to have scarred vocal chords and was afraid he could never sing again? Or something like that? And they found out back then that what he described wasn't a real ailment? I HATE this kid.
- Undercover investigations from the local news shows. You'd think they'd be more interesting in Chicago, but they're not.
- Skechers. Why is it your sporty mary janes end up being my smelliest shoes, within 3 weeks of wear? I had to pumice the smell off my feet the other night. I'll never buy another pair again.
- Nike - why do all your tennis shoes have to be so HUGE? I feel like I'm wearing a foam brick on my feet. And the only streamlined shoes you have are for casual wear!
- Chicago sales tax. It's around and above 10%. And I can't go to the suburbs every time I make a major purchase. That's why I'm shopping online...
- People talking to me in the work bathroom while I'm trying to take a dump. Sure, they don't know that's what I'm doing, but it still interrupts my concentration.
Had to get that off my chest.
So there's that,
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
What's my remedy? Go home and take a laxative and a sleeping pill. That's exactly what I did last night, and it couldn't have felt better. Today, my pants are loose, and I feel well-rested.
Monday, April 7, 2008
1. Public health care - why should the rest of us have to pay high taxes for you to eat yourself to death?
2. Nobody likes you. Except for, possibly, other fat people.
3. Even if you're successful, it just means you'll have enough money to become a drug addict and kill yourself like Chris Farley.
4. Because I don't want to ever have to think about fat people again.
5. Not only do you frighten children, but you're also setting a bad example.
6. You ruin pictures.
7. You ruin moments.
8. The thought of you ever having sex single-handedly ruins the day of at least 50% of the people whom you meet.
9. Because only aircraft are meant to be equipped with flaps. Their flaps serve a purpose.
10. It's fucking disgusting.
Friday, April 4, 2008
So there's that,
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Well, this one's for my sister, the teacher. Manda, I hope you share this with your class.
It'll take 2 tries to make Ernie Banks statue right
April 2, 2008
'This doesn't have anything to do with an apostrophe, does it?" Lou Cella said when I called Tuesday.
Id like to say it didnt but it did.
Cella, the sculptor who made the lovely new Ernie Banks statue outside Wrigley Field, guessed that I was calling about the apostrophe because he'd gotten a call about it just a little earlier from Jonathon Brandmeier, the morning DJ at WLUP-FM.
He didn't know at first what Brandmeier was talking about.
"What apostrophe?" he thought.
That's how he learned how much trouble can be stirred up by a little '.
Before the Banks statue went on display at Wrigley Monday, many people had inspected it, and they agreed: Mr. Cub, 7 feet and 300 pounds of bat-swinging bronze, looked great.
Cella, who works at the Fine Art Studio of Rotblatt-Amrany in Highwood, had scrutinized the things that mattered most to him as the sculptor.
How was the patina? Excellent. Was the inscription on the correct side of the granite base? Yes, it was. Right down there on Ernie's left it said:
LETS PLAY TWO.
Let us play two. Your 5th-grade teacher taught you this. When you drop a letter between words, you insert an apostrophe. In other words:
LET'S PLAY TWO.
"I'm the sculptor, I'm not a writer," said Cella, sounding good-natured. "I just read it the way I heard it in my head."
So did a lot of the people making pilgrimages to the Banks statue Tuesday. One after another, in the springtime sleet, they idled their cars along Clark Street, hopped out and clicked their cell phone cameras.
See anything wrong?
At least half the people I asked leaned toward the inscription, mouthed it—Lets play two, lets play two, lets play two—then shook their heads, no.
"That's just a nitpicky thing about English," said a guy named Brian when I pointed it out. He declined to give his last name on the grounds that he didn't want to be on the record insulting the Cubs.
Cub fan Ken Royal, on the other hand, would have made his grade-school teacher Mrs. Cassert proud.
"There's an apostrophe missing," he said without hesitation. "Who engraved it? Who did the inspection? All these years to get a statue for him and . . ."
Royal shrugged, and said, almost happily, "That's the Cubs for you."
I went into the Cubs administration office. A secretary made a call on my behalf. A few minutes later, Katelyn Thrall, a Cubs representative, walked in, brusquely stuck out her hand and didn't wait for me to explain.
"We're going to fix it," she said. "That's all I can say."
It's easy to mock the missing apostrophe, but let us show some mercy. We've all been there. We've all suffered through the little error that mars our best work. The tiny error that screams only when it's too late. The error that leaves you wondering how you failed to notice and why someone didn't save you.
Cella, who is 44 and a lifelong Cub fan, had bigger things on his mind. He'd spent three and a half months making the clay sculpture for the statue, working from hundreds of photographs, trying to capture the shape of Banks' nose, the height of his ears.
He'd overseen the elaborate process after that. A rubber mold was made from the clay sculpture. A wax casting was made from the rubber mold. A ceramic mold was put over the wax. The wax was melted and evacuated from the ceramic mold and molten bronze poured into its place.
When the bronze was hard, the statue was hoisted onto its granite base, coated with an acid patina that creates colors in the metal, and finally, covered with a lacquer that will prevent it from turning green.
Cella just didn't notice that the stonecutters at the granite company missed the '.
But by the time the Cubs are back in town, he vows, Ernie Banks will have his apostrophe. It'll take 10 minutes with a grinding tool.
"We'll put in the most beautiful apostrophe you ever saw," he said.
So get those photos of "LETS PLAY TWO" now. They'll be collector's items.