Hello again! Wow! Seems like a while since I b…

Hello again!

Wow! Seems like a while since I blogged. And the last time I did blog, it was about excrement. Great. The new column dropped today, so go to my site, and check it out, if you’re so inspired. It’s titled “Value” and it’s about knowing one’s value in a relationship — and finding someone who can recognize yours.

Yesterday, I hosted my book club. We read “The Amateur Marriage” by Anne Tyler, which was pretty good and well written. I barbecued for the event — because I love an excuse to cook large meals — and I had a few grill temperature issues, which means that a few of the chicken leg quarters were a bit carbon dated, but fortunately people ate them anyway. I made a few salads, including a tomato salad with several different types of tomato including the very tasty and pricey Heirloom tomato. All I can say that they’d better be tasty, given that I spent over $5 on ONE tomato courtesy of Whole Paycheck (Whole Foods). Those leftovers will certainly not be going to waste — this I guarantee.

I saw Hustle and Flow last weekend and really liked it. Terrence Howard was fabulous, although I have to admit that I have a fundamental problem with his “breakout” role being that of a pimp. Will we ever outgrow the stereotypes. On another note, I was really concerned about the health of his hair. He was sporting a really scary perm, and I’m sure there were many MANY split ends and much damage.

But, aside from the stereotypes and hair crimes, it was a well written film with a lot of funny and poignant moments. If I were a film critic, I’d give it a thumbs up.

The movie reminds me of a story, that I was instructed by my Tarheel friend S. to blog about, so here goes . . . I was hanging out at the Funky Buddha Lounge a few years ago. One of my friends was here for business from NY on a Monday night, and I, his Chicago social ambassador, took him to hip-hop night at Buddha. I was sitting on the couch and he sat with me for a while, until he saw someone flirtworthy and left me to my own devices. I was sipping my cocktail, nodding my head to the music, when a man sat next to me. He was a white guy, I guess, even though he had on the long baggy shorts, a baby blue basketball jersey of sorts, and no shortage of medallions. The conversation went like this (I’ve added my editorials for your story-enhancing pleasure):

Him: Hi

Me: Hi

Him: You come here often? [his patten of speech made me turn and look at him to make sure he was white. He was.]

Me: No [trying to nip the conversation in the bud immediately]

Him: I come here because I like the drinks they serve.

Me: O . . . kay? [It's a full bar. I didn't understand that comment]

Him: I’m from Tennessee [which explained a lot]. I only come to Chicago for my job.

Me: [I'll bite. I couldn't resist to know who employed this man] What do you do?

Him: Well . . . I save women from their lives.

Me: Hunh? [Hunh?]

Him: Have you ever heard of Captain Save-a Ho?

Me: Yeah? [Conceptually, but never in a conversation -- thank God.]

Him: Well, I’m Captain MAKE a ho. I’m a pimp.

Me: You are NOT! [Astonished, yet intrigued. I've never met a real life pimp before. Again . . . thank God.]

Him: Didn’t you see my gators? [Lifted his foot to display his baby blue alligator shoes -- muy tacky]

Me: Are those the signs of pimps? Gators? [Just in case I saw them coming in the future]

Him: A lot of us wear gators. [Which I guess was decided at the Pimp Convention] I’m trying to find some clubs to go to. Someone told me to go to Velocity [old Chicago club that probably harbored a lot of pimps], but when I went there were a lot of homosexuals [pronounced Ho-Mo-Sex-u-elles] there.

Me: Hmm. [Came to my senses] Hey, wait a minute? What are you talking to ME for?

Him: No disrespect intended.

Me: Yeah, well, I don’t think I have any suggestions for you. Sorry. And my friend is waving at me [untrue, unless you consider the act of buying a woman a drink waving at me].

Him: Oh, okay. Well it was nice meeting you.

Me. Uh-hunh. [at least the pimp had manners]

WTF?????? The moral of the story . . . If you run into a gator-wearing white man with a “street” accent, don’t complain to him about your life. You’ll soon be transformed into a Tennessee prostitute.

Random stuff The project that wouldn’t die lives …

Random stuff

The project that wouldn’t die lives on! And there might be a part 2. Deliver me!

Okay, today I have disgusting stuff to share. As I was getting ready to pull into my garage the other night, I noticed a swarm of flies near the door. I looked closer, and realized that there was a big heap of shit right next to my garage door. This didn’t look like animal shit — it looked like someone has literally taken a dump right next to my garage door. Eeew! So I carefully backed in so that I wouldn’t have dung caked in my tires. What the hell is wrong with people????? The rain storm seemed to wash a lot of it away, thank God.

Wow! I’ve been a bad blogger. My apologies. I…

Wow!

I’ve been a bad blogger. My apologies. I’ve been ensconced in work on the project that wouldn’t die, and then I spent the weekend roasting in this 100 degree weather and catching up on work that I couldn’t do last week.

I tried to deep clean yesterday, and thought I’d do things that I’ve been meaning to do for a while, like changing the filter in my refrigerator. This sounds minor, but it had been a while since I’d done it, and the water in my fridge door, as well as my ice cubes, were beginning to taste like ass, so it’s a necessity at this point.

So, I ambled over to Sears (once my steering wheel cooled off and I was able to touch it), and with the (poor) assistance of a salesman that I’ll refer to as “Cletus” (who was very happy that I wasn’t there to buy an air conditioner), I purchased the wrong filter.

I made the mistake of telling my mother my tale of filter woe. It made me wonder why I bother to tell her anything at all. It went something like this:

Phone rings. I pick up.

Gina: Hi

Mother: Hey kiddo. Whatcha doin’?

Gina: Just went to Sears to get a . . .

Mother: You went to Sears?

Gina: Yes

Mother: You could have stopped by here! You never stop by to see your parents. You know we’re getting old.

Gina: I’m aware of that, and so am I. I didn’t want to make a production out of it. I was on a cleaning mission and I didn’t want to stop.

Mother: Well, that’s good [she's a big advocate of cleaning -- although she hates to clean -- go figure]

Gina: As I was saying, I went to Sears to get a new filter for the refrigerator, and thanks to Cletus, I bought the wrong one.

Mother: Who’s Cletus? Oh .. . the salesperson. His name wasn’t really Cletus, was it?

Gina: NO.

Mother: Oh, you’re just kidding. [chuckles] So you got the wrong one? How much did you pay for it? [a common question from my mother]

Gina: $41

Mother: Wow! I hope you kept the receipt.

Gina: Yep

Mother: Well, your father can run and pick up another one. [She's always volunteering him for something, poor guy]

Gina:That’s okay, mom. I can do it. But I won’t do it today. I can wait.

Mother: You don’t need it right away?

Gina: No. It’s a filter. It’s not dire

Mother: Well he could still go get it and drop it by.

Gina: No, mom. I can do it. It’s fine.

Mother: Well, I was just saying that, since he needs to go out anyway, he could . . .

Gina: Mother! No! I told you that I can get it, and Dad doesn’t want to go out in this heat. I have the receipt anyway. It’s fine! Not a big deal!

Mother: Well I was just making a suggestion.

This is why I don’t share anything with her. One little anecdote turned into a debate. This is the reason why she’s not privy to anything having to do with my love life. It’s much easier that way.

Happy Monday!! (I haven’t gone into my client’s office yet, so we haven’t yet determined whether or not it’s a crappy Monday)

High Frustration Levels Today!!! This project is …

High Frustration Levels Today!!!

This project is almost over and I’m about to jump out of my skin. The term ‘going postal’ is of great relevance to me right now.

Anyone who wanted more info on Pamela Turner, aka the new Mary Kay LeTourneau, here’s the SmokingGun report.

More later — back to the grind.

Have I mentioned today . . . How irksome this pr…

Have I mentioned today . . .

How irksome this project is, and how happy I will be when it’s over? Just thought I’d share that just in case any of you were confused. Ugh!

What are they feeding these kids?? Forgot to blog…

What are they feeding these kids??

Forgot to blog about this one.

I went to the 9th birthday party of my Goddaughter this past Saturday. Well, actually, it was the pre-party. Before she and 6 or 7 of her friends caravaned to The American Girl Place for a play and dinner, she had a tea party at the home of her aunt and uncle. Because I would sooner impale myself with a brick than go to American Girl, I opted for crashing the tea party.

It’s interesting to see a group of 9 year olds interact. They’re like little old women, but more rambunctious and whiny. I was reminded that Haley’s no longer a baby when I noticed that one of her friends, who will be 10 this year, was STACKED. No lie. It was kind of disheartening, and I know her mother has to be freaking out that her WAY pre-pubescent child has a sizeable chest and butt before she’s reached a double digit age!

Haley’s brother, my 5 year old Godson, was being sequestered in the house because he wasn’t wanted outside by the little old women. However, he couldn’t wait to get out there to see the girls. He’s already a hound, even at age five. He has the uncanny ability to remember film release dates. I took them to see Charlie and The Chocolate Factory on July 15 just because Christopher doesn’t understand that he won’t miss the movie if he doesn’t see it the day it’s released. From what I’m told, he wakes up and says “It’s July 15! Time for Charlie! Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Can we see it today?”

Kids are interesting little critters.

And speaking of which, what about the new perverted teacher that was sleeping with the 14-year-old student? (Nice segue, right?) She has an insanity plea, and her lawyer actually said that she’s too attractive to be jailed. He says that she wouldn’t survive. Maybe she should have thought of that BEFORE the statutory rape. WTF?

My explosive temper, hot pregos and other fun stuf…

My explosive temper, hot pregos and other fun stuff . . .

I’m not really in a good mood today. Probably because I’m completely under the gun with a project that I didn’t like when I started it, and was unhappy to see it return my way. Yeah, sure, it means billable hours, but it also means a surge in my blood pressure. I’m not playing well with others — unless those others have offers that take me away from this damned project.

On another note, my friend Cristel is pregnant — due any second — to the point where I’m scared to go anywhere with her alone because I don’t think I could handle being present and having to be responsible when she goes into labor. But that’s beside the point. She. Looks. Phenomenal. What other women do you know who can turn SERIOUS heads at 10 months pregnant? I don’t know many — in fact, because of Cristel, I only know one.

She works out daily — swims, does weights — and before anyone gets crazy, it’s all with her doctor’s approval. She wears her short skirts and prego halter tops without looking obscene because her legs and arms are toned, and the only evidence of her pregnancy is her belly, which looks like she swallowed a large basketball.

Fortunately pregnancy isn’t in the future for me, because I don’t think I’d be able to compete with her.

Weekend Observations in Chicago Once again, the…

Weekend Observations in Chicago

Once again, the Gino’s on the corner of Walton and Rush (NOT the big Gino’s East on Wells) has been shut down by the Dept. of Health. Is it any wonder? That place is filth-nasty, and anyone who thinks it’s a good idea to eat there deserves dysentary.

Nearly two years later, the picketers are STILL outside the Congress Hotel. I think they’re going to be permanent fixtures. I thought I spied one bumming a cigarette from the bellhop. I wonder how long before they appear in a travel brochure advertisement for the hotel.

This year, bike riders have apparently taken a course called “Stupid Biking — How to Risk Your Life in Traffic.” In more cases than I care to count, I’ve driven behind a cycler who is trying to commandeer an entire lane of traffic, which makes the act of getting around him a very dangerous endeavor. And they actually think they can keep up — pedaling for their lives to compete with cars. WTF? Who do they think they are . . . .Lance Armstrong?

Happy Monday, all. And don’t forget to answer my survey (see below)

I almost forgot . . . one of my fave readers, Damon, has apparently nominated me for an online competition of female bloggers. Check it out, and if you’d like to, vote for me!

Wondering . . . Some of the messages and comme…

Wondering . . .

Some of the messages and comments about the dating scene have caused me to wonder how bad it really is. So tell me . . . how long has it been since you’ve been on a date? How long since you had a person that was truly your boy/girlfriend? If you’re in a relationship, are you happy?

Just curious. Answer anonymously if you’re uncomfortable. THANKS!

I should be working but . . . . I’m procrastinati…

I should be working but . . . .

I’m procrastinating just long enough to respond to an extremely nice comment left the other day in response to my “Shitty Dating Scene” post . . .

Swanshadow says:
Gina, a friend and I were just discussing your post. Here’s something to consider: Guys — especially we average-looking, average-income guys — hate rejection. I think a lot of intelligent, attractive women (yourself being a prime example) don’t get asked out because men think, “Man, she’d never have anything to do with a guy like me. Why should I even take the chance?” It’s my theory that this is one reason why so many good women end up with bad men — the bad guys will approach anyone. The squeaky wheel gets the grease…or the girl.

The solution? Be approachable. Be willing to take a chance on a guy who might not look like Adonis, but is intelligent and personable and who, given the opportunity, would treat a beautiful woman such as yourself like a queen. You might have to make the first move. But it might be a move worth making.

Thanks, Swanshadow!

What’s funny is that, for years, I’ve been a firm believer in something that I refer to as my Super Rat theory. And guys . . . I’m going to compare you to rats for a moment, but only for the sake of analogy, so please don’t get offended or refer to me as a man-hating-psycho-bitch. Thanks in advance.

So . . . in a particularly horrible spot of dating in my 20s, I referred to myself as man-repellent. But only for nice guys. Any man who was desirable to date wouldn’t come within a 50-foot radius of me, unless I was standing near one of my cute friends.

Super-Rats, in case you don’t remember, were the rats that grew immune to rat poison and kept coming back bigger and stronger, despite what anyone could do to control them. They were a big problem for a long time.

I had a dating Super Rat problem. I somehow repelled normal men, but the Super-Rat-like men — the worst, poorly-intentioned, womanizing, disrespectful type — were seemingly immune to my repellent, and would pursue me even harder. The Super Rats seem to have no fear of rejection, and they’re extremely aggressive and sometimes persuasive — or at least really good at breaking you down.

I think I’m approachable, but that’s not always a good thing. If I’m too approachable, the Super Rats come a-runnin’! In some cases, one of the problems is finding a good repellent for the Super Rats, and making a way for better men. And not necessarily better looking men. I can’t remember the last time I’ve dated anything remotely resembling Adonis — although I’m not averse to it! I’d actually rather take your second piece of advice and advocate making the first move. In my opinion it’s much better to do the choosing than be the chosen. Now . . . if only there were a better pool to choose from!

Although, I will admit that there’s a LOT to like about being single! As much as I complain about the dating scene, I have to say that single life is extremely stress-free in comparison to the horror stories I hear from the married faction. But that’s a different post for a different day.

Work time (yes, on a Sunday. Life of a freelancer).