Maggie's Birthday Weekend Of Fun and Games

I wish I could tell you about the drag performance at The Kit Kat lounge (She was fabulous. And booty-licious.) I wish I could tell you about the near-empty duelling piano bar where we danced on pianos and I was hit on by a boy with a guitar pick on his hemp choker ("Do you like the Beastie Boys??" *shudder*)

I wish I could tell you about all this. But instead, my friend Maggie had the worst weekend in the history of weekends. So that's the Weekend Story you get to hear.

The reason for the drag show and the piano bar and the hemp choker is that we were out for Maggie's birthday. It was great oh-right-I'm-24-not-30 kind of fun. After we danced our tights off, Maggie +1 went one way and Erin (who is visiting from NYC) and I went another. The next day (Sunday) we met back up and discovered this story:

After we had split, Maggie and her friend stopped for some drunk food at the big McDonald's downtown Chicago. When she walked into the bathroom, there was a group of girls, loud and drunk. One was puking in the sink. God, what is NOT to love about twenty-somethings? Anyway, Maggie found a stall and did her biz. When she tried to get out, the door wouldn't open. So she put her weight into it and shoved. One of the girls was holding the door. Now, at this point, I'm not sure what I would do. But I tend to avoid strangers like they are chock full of leprosy, so I'm pretty sure I would have apologized, washed my hands, and walked out.

But not Maggie.

Maggie says something along the lines of "What's your f*cking problem? Why are you holding the door?" and ALL SH*T BREAKS LOOSE. Apparently this girl and her friends go into "oh no you di'int" mode and started beating her up! She tried to reach for the door and one of them actually grabbed her by the hair and pulled her back.

So a security guard helps her out, and they call the police. The girls actually take a while to high tail it out of there, so by the time the cops get there, the girls have only been gone for a few minutes. The cop tells her that, despite the fact that the girls were in a STRETCH LIMO and that the security guard had gotten the license plate of that limo, they could not find the girls. There are so many things wrong with all that, but whatever. Mags is fine, though shaken, so there's not much else Erin and I could do but listen to this whole thing with our mouths open wider than that damn singing fish.

While Maggie tells us the story, we have a lovely time walking around the annual market they set up downtown full of old-timey German Christmas foods and ornaments and carvings. And we're insinuating things about weiners and schnitzel and wood and it's a lovely time.

Eventually Maggie, who now lives downtown, drives us all back up to my place in Wicker Park. I tell her to park in the first spot we see, and we go inside to watch Muppet Christmas Carol (obviously.) After she leaves to go home, I get a call a few minutes later. Someone has broken into her car. The passenger side window is shattered and her iPod and GPS are gone. She calls her dad, who technically owns the car. He calls the police, and the only thing they do is say they'll mail her dad something. No one comes out, nothing.

The problem here is that I know EXACTLY who did it. There is this group of high school aged guys (gang members question mark?) who stand on my street all day. All the time. Doing nothing. They never bothered me when I walk past or anything, so I've never done anything but mutter under my breath about how they need to go inside and do their homework. And this spot where these guys chill is exactly where Maggie parked. When she got to her car, in fact, she said all those people were standing there looking at her, as well as the kids in the house there. Lovely. So either YOU are the ones who did it, or you stood idly by as someone else did (unlikely).

So in the end, we swept up most of the glass, put cardboard and a garbage bag over her window (WHY do I not own real duct tape?!) and sent Mags on her way.

Happy birthday, Maggie.

In which I question my blog

Oh crap. I have been reading blogs for research about what my blog should be. And I think I've accidentally depressed myself into a black hole of despair. There are just TOO many great blogs out there! And they're all funny and well-writen and snarky and smart and somehow they all have great things to post about all the time. Which is great for America, but, like...here I am, all unemployed and avoiding showering.

So, in lieu of me knowing what I'm actually doing...here is something I find crazy: my roommate's old little pumpkin has begun to mold in the shape of a jack-o-lantern, as if it knew that was its purpose.

Two Thanksgivings: WAY better than one.

What a great two-day Thanksgiving!

Since my older sister just had a baby, we decided it would be easier on them to do Thanksgiving on Friday--aka, today. Now, at first, I was quietly worried that this would ruin Thanksgiving. But it's really just extended the holiday into a two-day event!

Yesterday, Joe and I watched bits of the parade to start off our day. I think the Thanksgiving Parade is a bit like candy corn--you only have it once a year, so when it comes back around, you forget that it's not that great. But I always enjoy getting in the spirit, even if getting in the spirit means watching teen idols lip sync to fake Christmas songs. (and by fake, I mean Bing Crosby never sang them)

While we watched the parade, we also started on our recipes for our feasts: for last night (Thursday), we made a veggie plate and REAL cranberry sauce. It always amazes me that people would consider eating cranberry sauce out of a can, because of how EAAAASY it is to make. All you do is put some cranberries in hot water, and watch as it becomes sauce. Joe's never seen it made before. I think he was impressed.

Next, we headed out for a Thanksgiving movie: Fantastic Mr Fox! It was great, and so perfect for Thanksgiving. I think it's going to be my traditional holiday movie for this holiday. We weren't sure how many people would be seeing a matinee on Thanksgiving Day in the city. Turns out, not a ton--but not too shabby either.

Finally, we went out for Friend Thanksgiving. Most people in Joe's grad school program are from out of town, and not everyone could make it home for the holiday, so we all got together and did a bit of a pot luck. Very fun! And it was okay that--turns out--no one made a turkey, because TODAY is true Thanksgiving. Family Thanksgiving. Arguing, laughing, how-do-you-make-that-stuff-again? Thanksgiving. Our pies are in the oven, and we wait patiently for my dad to arrive. OH CRAP I HAVEN'T SHOWERED YET!

Also I think I've said Thanksgiving about twenty million times in this post. But just for good measure...thanksgiving.

Wednesday: What I Love

So besides just my silly ramblings, I'm trying to figure out what else this blog is going to be. So my current idea is this--

Wednesday is What I Love Day! And I feature something I love. I don't know, shut up...I'm still trying to work this thing out.

So anyway. Here's something I love:



Isn't it AMAAAAZING?! It's from Urban Outfitters, and you can buy yourself one here.

Filling up my days

People ask me all the time: "So...what do you DO?"

Since becoming unemployed in February (except a six-week freelancing stint in the summer) no one really knows what I do with my time. And sometimes neither do I. What DO I do all day? And so I've decided to make a list, so I know what to tell people.

1. I volunteer with kids.
2. I've been teaching myself how to cook and bake.
3. I'm organizing all of my family's photos, 1982-present. I'm up to 1987.
4. I've been enjoying the weather before it leaves us (which might be today).
5. I explore my neighborhoods while listening to podcasts.
6. I attempt to stay up on Advertising News.
7. I take advantage of an empty gym during the day.
8. I spend time with Joe (the bf) and with friends.
9. And yeah. I watch a lot of TV and surf a lot of internet. Because I'm unemployed, and there are 24 hours in the day.

My First Real Blog

I want to start a blog of substance. Something more than my livejournal of useless rambling. I want this blog to have a purpose. But how do I start off a blog with purpose? I mean, what if it really gets going? What if this blog becomes famous?! WHAT IF THEY MAKE A MOVIE ABOUT ME WITH MERYL STREEP?!

See, this is why it took me so long to start this thing off. So instead, I'm going to a) breathe and b) go baby steps on this one, and let my first post explain the probable title of this blog: "ejs is me."

In high school, I began graffiti-ing "i *heart* ejs" everywhere because I realized, well...I couldn't get caught! Everyone would speculate--who is ejs and why does someone love them so much that they need to write it all over the school? Then eventually someone would search the high school records (because it would be such a mystery) and they'd realize it was ME! And they'd wonder who was in love with me?! And I'd tell them I don't know, but I hope they reveal themselves soon! In the end, I'd be the LAST person they'd suspect. For who in their right mind would announce that they are in love with their own initials?!

Okay, it was a terrible idea. Mostly because I only really ever wrote it in pencil on the corner of my math desk, and because I admitted to anyone who asked, "ejs is me."

But ever since then, "iheartejs" has been my self-declared moniker. I like it. It flows. And no one else has picked it for a username for anything, as far as I know.

But it means more to me than just that. Because, since high school, I've been trying (and often struggling) to live up to my alias, to love who I am. And so here is one more attempt to learn to do so. A blog, where thoughts are public in a private kind of way, where I can share things I love or complain about something terrible, and where I can have everything laid out there in front of me, to show myself "these are the things that are ME. These are the reasons to heart ejs."

So I share, loud and proud: I heart ejs. And ejs is me.