Ah, the good old days...

Coming to you live from Chicago, it's the newest installment of If You Want to Know What I Think, Just Ask Me. The first in a long string of visits to a city that has pretty much become like a second home to me and will only become more so over the summer as I use intern supervision as a front for going to concerts and music festivals and gaying out with America's Next Top Model and vegan cupcakes that will take over the world.

I've had a few firsts in Chicago...my first short haircut was here, the first time I ever cheated on a boyfriend was here. Yep, proud moments those were. Having come from tiny Weeping Water, where there's as many people in the entire town as in three blocks in Chicago, it's sometimes stunning how much my life has changed.

I've been visiting Chicago regularly for two years now, and somewhere in those two years I entered my late twenties. I can tell because my itineraries have changed quite a bit. Usually, I fly in on Friday night and we hit Berlin as soon as I can drop off my bag. We'd leave just in time to get to Clarke's or the Pick Me Up Cafe just before the bar crowds and barely make it through some cheese fries or organic pancakes before we stumble home at 5 AM and get to bed. But lately...well, as Kris says, "I just can't wait to get into my jammas and get under a blanket and watch television. It's going to be even better than when we did the same thing last night."

And I expect to feel some nostalgia for the "good old days"...the days when I got shit canned drunk and tried to hit on gay guys, when we went to bars in Wicker Park and I hooked up with some stranger with a girlfriend and tragic Brittany friends who thought they were going to nail Kris, or when I rode on the float in the gay pride parade and was blatantly propositioned by a very cute lesbian. But I don't feel nostalgia for those days...because as much as the gays love me, they'd rather go home with Kris, and that stranger from the Wicker Park bar had weird balls and only had Gatorade to drink, and that lesbian may have been cute but she only propositioned me because I was on a moving truck and there was no way I'd actually jump down and go home with her.

So yeah, I'd rather sit in an apartment in Boystown and watch The Real World New Orleans and other late 90s flash backs and make vegan cupcakes and watch youtube videos of SNL skits mocking Project Runway. I really don't miss anything if I pass out on the couch at 10:30 PM. And if that makes me old, so be it.

Wait...I have a blog?

Oh hey, yeah, I have a blog. It's been uber long since I posted anything on my poor, neglected blog. I'm sorry, blog...it's just that I've been busy with work and school and...well, I'm sorry that you feel we never talk anymore but someone has to work to put food on the table! I'll take you somewhere really special this weekend, baby, I promise.

Ok, now that my blog and I have kissed and made up, I think I'll give everyone a nice little update on how everything is going for me, cause I know you are all so interested. Let's revisit the new years campaign plan, shall we?

Goal #1: Do not gain weight in the new year.
Well as far as I can tell I haven't but who the hell knows. It's not like I own a scale or anything. But as for my strategies...well, let's just say I've fallen off the wagon a little bit. And I don't care. I got a new bike though, and it's 7 miles round trip from my house to the office so if I want to have a block of cheddar cheese dipped in milkshakes, I think I'm entitled.

Goal #2: Stop being twitchy about being alone.
Ok, so this is an easy one because I don't spend that much time alone now. I have a roommate and a new "special friend" so I don't really have to be twitchy about it. But let's revisit the strategies...
I successfully did not pursue a man for all of January. Of course, as we all know I started dating Will in the first week of February but I wouldn't say there was a lot of pursuing there...it just sort of happened. And as for starting new activities...I have definitely been rocking out more with Will and Dan and our songs totally kick fucking ass but other than that I haven't really had time to start new activities and I don't know if rocking out with the new "special friend" counts as an activity that will enhance my confidence in being alone.

Goal #3: Do not be a stress freak about work.
Yeah...ship's pretty much sailed on that one. I am going to go ahead and take this nautical theme to a ridiculous extreme and say that if I were to look at the positive side of it, I could say we are in all-hands-on-deck mode...but what I really want to say is that we are in ship sinking mode. But I can only do what I can do, and that's what I am going to do. (That's a trademarked philosophical phrase, ok so hands off.)

Other random goals:
Finish school: Yeah, so I just failed a class. Pretty sure that whole finishing school thing won't be happening this year.
Move out of my shitty apartment: Done and done. Great new house, super new roommate, complete with enough hot water to do dishes and shower in the same night and sans the homeless crackheads.

Stay tuned for more in-depth postings on my thoughts on failing graduate school and why I no longer have a "type".

Is that a business card...or are you just happy to see me?

So as I've gotten older, a few things have changed about the way I see the world, especially men. For example, as a younger woman, I always found guys who were really helpless and could basically not dress themselves without me really attractive...ok ok, so I sort of still have that. But I've learned as I approach my late 20s that being needed is overrated. I also find the help much less attractive as I get older. I used to love me a bartender or server -- now I look at them and think, sure you're attractive but don't you want to do something with your life?

Another interesting phenomenon that I've experienced really only in the last couple of months is the business card. It seems that handing out a business card is the new version of writing your number on a napkin...I think. I actually can't really tell, and I don't think it's fair.

Up until very recently, I would typically meet guys through friends or work, although I took my share home from the bars too. Here's how it would go: I would see guy, get him to pay attention to me, we'd chat in the obligatory way, and he'd either type my number into his cell phone -- usually to never use it again -- or or say something that meant, "Hey let's go have sex."

But let's say it doesn't go like that. Let's say that one evening a girl is walking home from work because the goddamn light rail was a minute early and she missed it. Let's say that as she's crossing the street she notices first a semi-attractive man about to intersect her path, then a fox that is just chillin in the street like 6 feet away. Let's say semi-attractive man comments on the fox and then starts walking next to the girl as though they'd known each other forever and were on their way somewhere for a drink. Let's say that girl and semi-attractive guy chat for about 10 blocks when girl says, "I have to turn here to go home." That's when it happens...semi-attractive guy says, "Here, have my business card in case you want to buy an electric bike or know someone who does. My name's Addison, it's on the card." Girl isn't sure what to think, as she'd clearly expressed her desire to purchase a bike of the human powered variety, so she takes the card and they go their separate ways.

You may have guessed that the girl in that story was me. And this is not the first time this has happened, not even the first time in the last week. To be sure, what with the fox and all it was a strange situation all around, but now what's a girl to do? Does he want me to call him? Or does he just want me to buy an electric bike?

In the year of our lord, 2008...

With the end of the year approaching, and my trans-continental sage smudging scheduled for later tonight, I feel compelled to write out my New Years Resolutions, so to speak. I actually think New Years Resolutions are pretty lame, especially because people don't think them through. Typical New Years Resolutions: lose weight, eat healthier, get out more, exercise more, etc etc. Notice anything? There are no measurable goals or strategies for implementing these resolutions. Call me PIRG-y, but I just think that if you're really going to try to change your life in a new year, you should have goals, strategies and tactics. Thus, here is my New Years Campaign Plan...

Goal: Do not gain any weight in the New Year.
Strategies: No cheese for the month of January: I really feel like this is a big piece of why I've maybe put on a few pounds during December. I've eaten nothing but cheese, for the most part. So none of that for one month...also because I am sort of obsessed with cheese...maybe I just should see if I can get by without that.

Fresh juice each morning: My mom gave me a juicer so I feel like this is a gimme.

Each meal out only once a week: Breakfast once, Lunch once, Dinner once.

30 minute walk every day: With my doggie because Ms. Abby needs to watch her figure too. We're not teenagers anymore.

Goal: Stop being so twitchy about being alone.
Strategies: Don't pursue a man in any way for all of January: I've been doing all the work for a while now when it comes to men and I gotta tell you, it's exhausting. This is an exercise in practicing my patience...don't worry I am not trying to turn into one of those girls who sits nicely and looks pretty and waits for a boy to ask her out. I'm just taking a moment to look around and be patient and see what happens. I may re-evaluate the length of time at the end of January...it's possible that it might take more than a month for me to learn anything from this experiment.

Start new activities: I'd like to garden in one of those Denver Urban Gardens community gardens. I'd like to rock out more. Stuff like that. I think these kinds of activities can help to fill my mental real estate (see post below.)

Goal: Stop being a stress freak about work.
Strategy: Say no more: we don't say no nearly enough in the IOD. Can I get an amen?

No working at home: seriously, I am not that important. If I can't get it done from 8-6, it can wait til the next day.

Other general goals that are not as interesting as these:
Finish grad school. Strategy: GO TO FUCKING CLASS AND GET THE SHIT DONE ALREADY!
Move out of this shitty apartment: Find a place, buy it, move in. Easy as pie.

So those are my goals and strategies for the new year. Now that I've committed them to the interwebs, there's no going back. I can't just pretend that I never said it. And I just hate it when I can't achieve my goals, so my guess is this will make me accountable and then I'll get all crazy over it and next year I'll have to make a resolution about not being such a failure freak. But hey, baby steps...

I need a new tenant!

So this weekend could have been better. That boy I'd like to make like me stood me up publicly again, which basically confirms two things...1) I can't make him like me. 2) I don't want to.
I mean, I can't really decide if it's worse to be stood up and left at home alone to think about how lame you are or to be stood up in front of all your friends. What could be worse than that? Oh, I know, if it was on your birthday. Or, wait, if the excuse you got was "My phone died." That might be worse...unless that's the excuse you got BOTH TIMES.

Ok, now that my little ranty pity party is over, I'll move on to the real content here...mental real estate*. This little nugget of wisdom is passed along to me by relationship sage Will Frechette and it couldn't be more true. Is it just that I am trying to occupy some mental real estate by having this pseudo relationship? It's a thing to think about, and if it wasn't there, what would happen to the Boy-Crushing plot in my brain? It would start to get overgrown with weeds, the homeless would move in, start pissing on everything, and pretty soon the property values plummet and everything smells like pee. And is it possible, says Will, that the Boy-Crushing plot of my brain is perhaps larger than average due to my recent long term relationship...perhaps some subdivisions were developed, maybe we moved in an Olive Garden and a Starbucks.

This is all sage wisdom and very much true. Yeah, even though That Boy I'd Like To Make Like Me is a bad tenant...never pays the rent on time, loud parties, etc etc, I am hanging on to him because I don't want the place to fall apart, and I want to line up a new one before I let the old one go. Except it turns out that the homeless are moving in anyway and everything already smells like piss...so aren't I better off without a tenent?

When I broke up with the last one, I really had a vision of what my life would be like and how I would interact with these kinds of situations...but it's not really turning out to be true. I thought I'd be evolved, independent girl who didn't need a tenent, so I think the hardest part is accepting that I am not that girl. So fine, I embrace my Boy-Crushing plot. And if there has to be a tenent, so be it, but let me not forget the reason that I reserve this space for this kind of thing instead of using it for crafts or reading or innovating solutions to our energy problems...it's supposed to be fun.

So, I want to know what your crushing mental real estate looks like. Tidy? Crowded? Does it smell like flowers? Hamburgers?

* The concept of mental real estate is copyrighted by Will Frechette Industries, Inc. and may not be used without permission. Any resemblence to actual people or events is probably real, considering that we all tend to our crushing plots. All rights reserved.

If they aren't made of rubber, why are they called rubbers?

My thoughts on condoms...
Guys, listen up. There are a couple things you need to know about condoms, from this girl's perspective.
1. The man shall purchase the condoms. I already pay upwards of $25-$30 a month to prevent your evil seed from infiltrating the fragile boundary of my eggs. You can spring for the $12.95 or whatever a pack of condoms cost to keep away any evil funk.
2. The man shall provide the condoms. The "But I don't have a condom" excuse is not going to get you far, especially now that we are all over the age of 17. And no, Dan, it is not just a great way to be sure to get a blow job. It's not pretentious to bring a condom.
3. The man shall dispose of the condom. Further, he may not say either of the following while doing so:
"This is so gross!" Yeah, I know it's gross. That's why I want you to dispose of it.
"What should I do with this?" I don't care just get rid of it! But don't flush it down my toilet because I already can't shower and wash my dishes in the same night.
Ladies, am I wrong here? It's just proper condom etiquette.

Emo Week 2007 aka TLDR

Inspired by the latest fuckyouistan post, I thought I would write my own "non-emo" analysis of the past week. Monday I went to a concert...Art Brut and The Hold Steady. Art Burt = uber hipster guys (and one girl on bass) with skinny jeans and floppy hair and the whole bit. The Hold Steady = nerdy, very uncool guys with white sneakers and accordians. The lead singer looked like he could have been a dentist...or a comedy writer. They played a song called You Can Make Him Like You, which made me laugh and laugh and I immediately made it my MySpace song.

Tuesday was the pinnacle of Emo Week 2007...I succumbed to the stress and lost my shit. The evil bitch inside my head (I think I'll call her Greta) went something like this..."You can do all this! You cannot figure this out and even if you do everyone will hate it! And nobody cares about you enough to be here right now to talk you down from freaking out! They don't want your shit on them." She's not very nice.

Minutes later that boy who I would like to make like me called, simultaneously making me feel better and worse. Because while he tried to draw me out and get me to talk about the thing, I know of his discomfort with dealing with people when they are upset (especially crying) and I was afraid he wouldn't deal with me in the way I wanted and then I would be disappointed, which only made me more angsty. We had a good talk though, so it was a nice distraction.

Oh, Wednesday. Wednesday the wheels came off the bus, culminating in Take This Job and Shove It happy hour. Beer, G&T, Rum and Coke, and lots of fried food...that will make you feel better about your job.

Thursday and Friday really just run together, culminating in an impromptu shit canning at Gabors (possibly best bar ever...take the poll!) and 3 AM breakfast at Tom's Diner. Good night.

Looking back on the week, two things sort of become clear...if you're relying on someone else to solve your problems, you won't be able to count on their solution. All I wanted when I was losing my shit was someone around to deal with me. Then, when someone presents himself, it turned out to make the whole thing worse. Cause it's not his job to talk me off the ledge, it's mine.
Second thing...if I keep eating fried food and 3 AM breakfast to stave off the emo, I'm going to be 300 lbs by this time next year.

So, let's forge ahead into next week, yes? It's going to be great for the following reasons:
1. I'm going to make all kinds of money and find all kinds of new members for my organization.
2. I can take all that money we make for that orange croc wearing pansy and tell him to shove it right up his ass. Wait...
3. We don't have to work on Thursday.
4. We're going to sell cheap plastic crap and t-shirts that little Chinese children were probably paid 2 cents a day to sew together with their teeth. But we're going to make some money dammit.

Anyone have something to add to the list?