Ok, now that I am in a new city, I keep getting the same questions.
Usually people will pose questions about Missouri that aren't surprising...for instance, "How is Missouri like Illinois?" "What are the notable differences between here and there?" Or sometimes I get questions like, "Why are you EVEN HERE!!" Quite frankly, I am not amused.
Sometimes though, people are confused/ignorant to the ways of my great Show Me State.
1. We don't have an accent. YOU DO.
2. It's soda, not pop. C'mon. I never even heard of the word pop being used for the word soda until I was 17 and someone from Kansas City came around St. Louis and was spreading the heresy.
3. We're a city too, ya know. Sure, not as large, but a city nonetheless.
4. We're not liberal/we don't give the public assistance, Transit, help, cutbacks.
5. In the CITY city, we don't have country areas. Again, see #3. This woman I work with said, "Oh yeah, you're from St. Louis? I visited St. Louis one time....it was beautiful. Such country areas. Lovely wildlife and scenery."
Uhhh. If by scenery, you mean, smoke stacks, then yeah, we have nice scenery. Or, if by scenery, you mean a preponderance of glock-bearing citizens, then yeah, great view. If you are seeing wildlife other than dead fish and mice in the city of St. Louis, then YOU ARE NOT IN ST. LOUIS.
6. Oh, we don't just have one type of pizza. We, unlike you, have thin crust, crust and thick crust (and our sauce goes UNDER the cheese, as God and all mankind intended).
7. Our hot dogs suck in St. Louis.
8. Polish population in Chicago: 1.999 billion. Polish population in St. Louis: 10 people total (5 of which are just visiting from Chicago). Haha.
9. We're a lot like you, except we're from Missouri.
10. We're to the left, to the left. A young girl I work with said, "So, where exactly IS Missouri?" And then later she said, "So where exactly IS St. Louis."
Man, if she wasn't my favorite Chicagoan.....
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
One among us
I was walking (in circles) around downtown Chicago trying to find an entrance to get on board the brown line after an interview this morning that did not go well. By the Washington and Wells stop, a homeless man wielding a cup o' coins said, "got change?" I told him that "I barely have my head on straight, much less spare change" then proceeded to wait until the light turned red so I could safely cross the street. While still waiting, he asked me again, "Got the time?" To which I then said, "Nope. We're Oh for two." This is probably why I don't have a job, no sweet Rolex and no spare change for the needy. I am the needy.
(Where was he heading? Is he is homeless and jobless, what event was he heading to?)
As I was waiting for the longest light in the history of the world, I realized that if I didn't get a freakin' job, I'd be the one on the side of the street, wondering what time it is, using my thrift store McDonald's recyclable cup. But, when I realized I would have to give up the many thrift store cups I had in my possession and I almost started crying. If it wasn't for my anger at the goddamn invisible train stops, I would have. It is very hard to find the locales to get on and off the train. Very tricky, Chicago Transit Authority.
(Where was he heading? Is he is homeless and jobless, what event was he heading to?)
As I was waiting for the longest light in the history of the world, I realized that if I didn't get a freakin' job, I'd be the one on the side of the street, wondering what time it is, using my thrift store McDonald's recyclable cup. But, when I realized I would have to give up the many thrift store cups I had in my possession and I almost started crying. If it wasn't for my anger at the goddamn invisible train stops, I would have. It is very hard to find the locales to get on and off the train. Very tricky, Chicago Transit Authority.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Baby Etiquette
Yes, you are right. I should write my own guide to proper every etiquette. Not that fancy schmancy type of etiquette books that tell you you can't eat dinner when your shoulders are not at a 90 degree angle. I am talking about everyday fo' real etiquette.
Today's topic: Babies.
1. You have a child. Great. Now, after the usual three questions someone is properly supposed to ask when said child is brought up (aka, 1. What's his/her name? 2. When did you have him/her? 3. Awww. Tell me one interesting fact and then please zip da lip), I need you to end the conversation, unlike the alternative which is talk about your baby daddy issues, talk about every bodily/physical function the child in question does.
2. When talking about baby daddy issues, after 4 minutes, I am cutting you off or leaving or inventing my own baby daddy issues even though I don't have a child and am merely mocking you for my own enjoyment. When you find out in three minutes or three days or three months, I'll just play it off like a hilarious joke.
3. If you REALLY won't stop talking about baby daddy and I can't hang myself or escape through a stage door, after my two questions about baby daddy, (aka, How long have you been going out and How's it going with you two?) please, I don't want to hear about it any more.
4. When you ask if I wanna see pictures of the fruit of your loins and I reluctantly accept please show me at max 15 photos. I run out of comments after the 20th photo. I end up just saying things like, "You'd never expect THAT to be THERE" or something even more ridiculous like, "Baby made a bold move wearing red in the sun."
5. When you force me into an 80 minute discussion on baby etc, por favor, please excuse my attempts to end the conversation.
6. If the conversation is not ending, please end my in-depth discussion on breast milk, my biggest fear. Also, please don't mind the vagina canal questions. I have one, but haven't used it yet, for the obvious reasons you can infer from above.
Today's topic: Babies.
1. You have a child. Great. Now, after the usual three questions someone is properly supposed to ask when said child is brought up (aka, 1. What's his/her name? 2. When did you have him/her? 3. Awww. Tell me one interesting fact and then please zip da lip), I need you to end the conversation, unlike the alternative which is talk about your baby daddy issues, talk about every bodily/physical function the child in question does.
2. When talking about baby daddy issues, after 4 minutes, I am cutting you off or leaving or inventing my own baby daddy issues even though I don't have a child and am merely mocking you for my own enjoyment. When you find out in three minutes or three days or three months, I'll just play it off like a hilarious joke.
3. If you REALLY won't stop talking about baby daddy and I can't hang myself or escape through a stage door, after my two questions about baby daddy, (aka, How long have you been going out and How's it going with you two?) please, I don't want to hear about it any more.
4. When you ask if I wanna see pictures of the fruit of your loins and I reluctantly accept please show me at max 15 photos. I run out of comments after the 20th photo. I end up just saying things like, "You'd never expect THAT to be THERE" or something even more ridiculous like, "Baby made a bold move wearing red in the sun."
5. When you force me into an 80 minute discussion on baby etc, por favor, please excuse my attempts to end the conversation.
6. If the conversation is not ending, please end my in-depth discussion on breast milk, my biggest fear. Also, please don't mind the vagina canal questions. I have one, but haven't used it yet, for the obvious reasons you can infer from above.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Proper Bus Etiquette.
After my recent adventures in Chicagoland area, I have decided it was time to impart my wisdom on the masses. What has brought this about, one might ask. Well, I will tell you. Burglaries, annoyance and ill-tempered, insanely uncomfortable meetings with inner city bus traveler. That is what has brought this on. Yes, I have not only been a witness to a burglary, but I have also been witness to an insane bus passenger who became and nuisance, to put it gently, to those around her. This one woman was on the bus, had a seat next to her and refused to let anyone sit there/sit there in peace.
So, in conclusion, it has come to my attention that Chicago needs me to tell this the rules of the route.
1. If you have to make a call, please try not to YELL AT THE TOP OF YOUR LUNGS FOR ALL TO HEAR. Seriously. And, on a side note. If you are a "regular" like I am and take the bus at the exact same time I do everyday, please consider not making phone calls every single day and abstain from YELLING AT THE TOP OF YOUR LUNGS FOR THE ENTIRE PHONE CALL THREE DAYS IN A ROW.
For one, no one cares about your multiple baby daddies and child sitter issues. Secondly, I definitely don't want to hear about your baby daddy issues for three days straight on a gawdawful bus jam-packed full of sweaty, testy, shady Chicagoans.
2. Por favor. If you speak another language, do not think you are exempt from the previous rule. We/I can still here you, even though you are speaking Russian, French, Spanish, etc. I know at most 22 words in the spanish language but, I know enough to know that what you be sayin' on the telefono on the bus can wait until you arrive at the local Laund-ro-mat.
3. If there is 89 people on the bus (maximum occupancy 62), this is probably not the time to take up more than one spot on the bus. And, if someone wants to sit down, and, I may be out of line here, but, perhaps....LET THEM SIT DOWN. Also, move your shit out of the seat next to you. Why are you traveling with 3 garbage bags on the bus anyway (true story).
I know, I'm a heretic.
4. Leave your (literal) garbage at home. This goes back to the third example of proper etiquette on the bus. Where are you going that requires you to bring 3 garbage bags full of god-knows-what? Fo' real. What is in those bags. They seem fairly light. So, I assume they aren't clothes (some people use garbage bags to transport their dirty laundry). So, this leads me to assume that he a)keeps his receipts in there b) crumples up old newspapers to use later for ransom notes or c) he is doing the city a favor by going around town, picking up trash and carrying it elsewhere, using the bus as his mode of transportation.
All in all people, let's get classy on the bus.
So, in conclusion, it has come to my attention that Chicago needs me to tell this the rules of the route.
1. If you have to make a call, please try not to YELL AT THE TOP OF YOUR LUNGS FOR ALL TO HEAR. Seriously. And, on a side note. If you are a "regular" like I am and take the bus at the exact same time I do everyday, please consider not making phone calls every single day and abstain from YELLING AT THE TOP OF YOUR LUNGS FOR THE ENTIRE PHONE CALL THREE DAYS IN A ROW.
For one, no one cares about your multiple baby daddies and child sitter issues. Secondly, I definitely don't want to hear about your baby daddy issues for three days straight on a gawdawful bus jam-packed full of sweaty, testy, shady Chicagoans.
2. Por favor. If you speak another language, do not think you are exempt from the previous rule. We/I can still here you, even though you are speaking Russian, French, Spanish, etc. I know at most 22 words in the spanish language but, I know enough to know that what you be sayin' on the telefono on the bus can wait until you arrive at the local Laund-ro-mat.
3. If there is 89 people on the bus (maximum occupancy 62), this is probably not the time to take up more than one spot on the bus. And, if someone wants to sit down, and, I may be out of line here, but, perhaps....LET THEM SIT DOWN. Also, move your shit out of the seat next to you. Why are you traveling with 3 garbage bags on the bus anyway (true story).
I know, I'm a heretic.
4. Leave your (literal) garbage at home. This goes back to the third example of proper etiquette on the bus. Where are you going that requires you to bring 3 garbage bags full of god-knows-what? Fo' real. What is in those bags. They seem fairly light. So, I assume they aren't clothes (some people use garbage bags to transport their dirty laundry). So, this leads me to assume that he a)keeps his receipts in there b) crumples up old newspapers to use later for ransom notes or c) he is doing the city a favor by going around town, picking up trash and carrying it elsewhere, using the bus as his mode of transportation.
All in all people, let's get classy on the bus.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
$14.83
I just returned from Starbucks. Yes, I know, how cliche. But, I'll have you all know that I am the first person to "sell out." I am a poser, tried and true. But, that's not the reason I am writing today. I went to Starbucks to read Julie and Julia, by Julie Powell, and to get my daily fill of espresso. I don't know what it is but chocolate mixed with espresso is better than sex at its best (sorry Englishman, but that's mostly true). So, I walked the couple of blocks to my local Starbucks (which is all you need to walk in Chicago, there's a 'Bucks on every corner here, not unlike CVS, Walgreen's and Dunkin Doughnuts) and I decided to get an iced Grande Mocha, and it should go without saying that I purchased a chocolate chip cookie as well even though this drink contains enough chocolate to satisfy the regular chocoholic (but, I've built up a tolerance over the years). In plain English, an Iced Grande Mocha is just a medium-sized drink containing milk, espresso, fancy schmancy chocolate over ice, overpriced. I usually think iced drinks and frappachinos are for babies and prissy high maintenance women, but it's hot out there today and I am feeling especially high maintenance, so, get off my back. Anyway, my total was $5.25, which I had to balance my checkbook right then and there to make sure I could afford it. SWIPED the Visa and then sat down on one of the slightly used Grandfather chairs which contained what appeared to be a cigarette burn hole. Hmmm. How. Why?
I opened my J&J and then carefully eyed the other patrons. I like to creep on other people in coffee shops because generally, coffee shops are magnets for posers, creeps, addicts of all sorts, hippies and pseudo artists. I like to think that I fit into all of the categories, so I fit right in. One guy was on his laptop, another was on his laptop, other woman was closing her laptop and across the room, another man was YES, on his laptop, if you can fathom THAT possibility.
Why are so many people laptopping at coffee shops? I think it goes back to the type of people who frequent those establishments. Posers, creeps, addicts, hippies and artists.
Anyway, as I was secretly developing back stories to all of these Starbucks characters, I glanced down at the table and there was a receipt in front of man #2 on laptop. No biggie. Starbucks gives out receipts just like normal establishments and places of business. But, here's the weird part. The receipt for this man was for $14.83. I look around and he wasn't with anyone, but in front of him was several empty cups and dishes.
Here's the gist:
Man wakes up, says, "Man, I'm grumpy. I don't want to make food all day. I am also low on espresso drinks in my body. I also don't want to use the internet at my own house. I'm going to Starbucks. I'll feed my 12 cats (people like 'Bucks people always have 3-15 cats in their possession) and I'll be gone until dark."
Then, he goes to Starbucks and hangs around, eating multiple meals and drinks until dark.
I mean, he went to Starbucks, according to the receipt and ordered two to three meals, including multiple drinks totaling $14.83.
I mean, I was flipping out about my measly 5 dollar bill. Who spends 14 dollars on Starbucks? Insane.
I opened my J&J and then carefully eyed the other patrons. I like to creep on other people in coffee shops because generally, coffee shops are magnets for posers, creeps, addicts of all sorts, hippies and pseudo artists. I like to think that I fit into all of the categories, so I fit right in. One guy was on his laptop, another was on his laptop, other woman was closing her laptop and across the room, another man was YES, on his laptop, if you can fathom THAT possibility.
Why are so many people laptopping at coffee shops? I think it goes back to the type of people who frequent those establishments. Posers, creeps, addicts, hippies and artists.
Anyway, as I was secretly developing back stories to all of these Starbucks characters, I glanced down at the table and there was a receipt in front of man #2 on laptop. No biggie. Starbucks gives out receipts just like normal establishments and places of business. But, here's the weird part. The receipt for this man was for $14.83. I look around and he wasn't with anyone, but in front of him was several empty cups and dishes.
Here's the gist:
Man wakes up, says, "Man, I'm grumpy. I don't want to make food all day. I am also low on espresso drinks in my body. I also don't want to use the internet at my own house. I'm going to Starbucks. I'll feed my 12 cats (people like 'Bucks people always have 3-15 cats in their possession) and I'll be gone until dark."
Then, he goes to Starbucks and hangs around, eating multiple meals and drinks until dark.
I mean, he went to Starbucks, according to the receipt and ordered two to three meals, including multiple drinks totaling $14.83.
I mean, I was flipping out about my measly 5 dollar bill. Who spends 14 dollars on Starbucks? Insane.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Hello, Sunshine
I am dating that guy. You know the type. Perhaps you are the type. The type who rises early. A little too early, if you ask me. That's right ladies and gents, my boyfriend is the Early-to-bed, Early-to-rise type. Except, the Englishman takes it to a whole new level. Living in sin is very nice. No marriage b.s. to worry about, no stress, no kids in my hair but coming together in the Cosmo sense of the phrase is more or less dealing with THE AWAKENING HOUR. I, like many unemployed Americans, like to sleep in until a modest 10, 10:30 (who am I kidding, it's more like 11). There I am, my eyes adjusting to the beautiful morning light coming through my blinds. I turn over and nope, no Englishman to be seen. At first I wonder if these previous few years have been nothing but a dream. But, then I see the remnants of the Englishman's tracks. He's moved things around....he's been in the storage space....on the internet....here...there....everywhere!!!! I roll out of bed and there I see him---awake and sunshiny. Although his bright green eyes are lovely to see first thing in the morning, the inane chattering of a busy body unfortunately is not. You see, I am not trying to hurt anyone's feelings, I just am a sleep person. Not an awake person. Never have been. Plus, when I get up, I need at least an hour to adjust to the light, much like a bat or a vampire who has been in his crypt for hundreds of years. I need some time, senor. I wake up to:
"Hey Erica. How are you?"----the Englishman speaketh.
"Hey."---me
"How are you, whatcha doing?"---Englishman
"Fine...what have you been doing?"---me
"Oh, I went for a 6 mile walk and I read three newspapers, checked my email, got some coffee, finished two crossword puzzles, boy were they hard, and then I took a shower after I ate some breakfast."---Englishman.
"What??!?!?!?!?!? I just set foot on a floor."---me
"Yeah I know."---Englishman.
At first I blamed him. He's the best at everything. Everything. Then, I realized. THERE ARE MORE LIKE HIM OUT THERE. More people who get up, on weekends like he does, at the crack of dawn (8 o'clock) and roam around the street with their baby children and their papers and freshly poured caffeinated beverages (although I am sure they only get those flavor-infused delicacies so they can 1) bond with the same species, other 8 a.m.ers. 2) do something with all of the time they have and 3) make sure they don't look weird for being up so early---they need to have an excuse as to why they're functioning at an alien hour.
"Hey Erica. How are you?"----the Englishman speaketh.
"Hey."---me
"How are you, whatcha doing?"---Englishman
"Fine...what have you been doing?"---me
"Oh, I went for a 6 mile walk and I read three newspapers, checked my email, got some coffee, finished two crossword puzzles, boy were they hard, and then I took a shower after I ate some breakfast."---Englishman.
"What??!?!?!?!?!? I just set foot on a floor."---me
"Yeah I know."---Englishman.
At first I blamed him. He's the best at everything. Everything. Then, I realized. THERE ARE MORE LIKE HIM OUT THERE. More people who get up, on weekends like he does, at the crack of dawn (8 o'clock) and roam around the street with their baby children and their papers and freshly poured caffeinated beverages (although I am sure they only get those flavor-infused delicacies so they can 1) bond with the same species, other 8 a.m.ers. 2) do something with all of the time they have and 3) make sure they don't look weird for being up so early---they need to have an excuse as to why they're functioning at an alien hour.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Hot Child in the City
Discrepancies in the Chi-town persona are numerous.
For one, the "Windy City" is not very windy. It's very hot and thick in the town and I find myself begging for a slight breeze to ease the heat. Very hot and yet no breeze.
What to do? No se.
We (me and the Englishman) live on the top floor of a building constructed in the eighteen twenties, I'm sure, and the main problem is it's cool at nights here, yet, it's hot as Hades inside. I mean, I've probably lost 5 pounds in mere sweat alone. Ridiculous.
For one, the "Windy City" is not very windy. It's very hot and thick in the town and I find myself begging for a slight breeze to ease the heat. Very hot and yet no breeze.
What to do? No se.
We (me and the Englishman) live on the top floor of a building constructed in the eighteen twenties, I'm sure, and the main problem is it's cool at nights here, yet, it's hot as Hades inside. I mean, I've probably lost 5 pounds in mere sweat alone. Ridiculous.
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