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Author Archives: carlieblissirwin
Chicago Bagel Authority
When we were living in St. Louis, I would literally have dreams about Chicago Bagel Authority (CBA). I was 300 miles away, and yet I knew I would return someday. Yesterday was that day.
These guys make a mean bagel sandwich. It was just as good as I remembered. Maybe better.
Ok, stop watching me while I’m eating… it freaks me out.
If our reply card to your wedding has tiny bite marks all over it…
His last name is better than yours
Quote from Grub Street Chicago article about the new Farmhouse restaurant opening in River North:
“The menu was designed by chef Eric Mansavage – formerly the chef at Club Lucky – and will be based on ‘what’s available from Midwestern farmers and growers.'”
Sounds like a cool restaurant but HOLY COW THAT’S AN AWESOME LAST NAME.
Mansavage?? MAN-SAVAGE! raaawrrr!
I bet people eat his food whether they like it or not because he is Eric MANSAVAGE! A ruthless combination of man and beast, no doubt.
Good news(paper)!
There’s a Design*Sponge newspaper? Available in Chicago? For FREE??
I’m so picking this up on my way home from work today… if there are any left!
Don’t follow Design*Sponge? Well, A) you should, and B) you’re missing out on fun fashion, decorating and design ideas and a lot of pretty pictures, and going back to A), you really just should follow this blog.
More on the newspaper and where you can find it in Chicago and other cities here.
Image from Design*Sponge. Where else?
Nothing like coming back to the office with a little sand in your flip flops
Why not be a wino?
“A new Spanish study has found that people who drink wine in moderation are actually gaining less weight than the general popluation.” – Wine Spectator
I’ll cheers to that! I was going to splurge and buy a cookie at lunch today, so I guess I better drink an extra glass of wine tonight. Oh, the sacrifices we make to stay in shape…
Question: Does Boone’s Farm count as wine? Not that I drink that… anymore.
Image from thedailygreen
California. No doubt about it.
Will and I went on vacation last week and I came back with this conclusion:
I love California.
(I almost said “I heart California” but I’m getting really tired of that phrase. Are we done with that yet?)
We stayed for a few nights at Terranea Resort on the coast and were forced to look at this scenery all day, every day:
It was pretty rough.
Then we moved on to L.A. and pretty much dominated the 405 and Pacific Coast Highway in our sweet Rolls Royce convertible.*
*All Rolls Royce convertibles referred to in this post are actually Chevy Impalas.
In an effort to be brief, I’ll describe the trip the way I most likely would have described it in my 1st grade journal:
“We went on vacation. It was very fun. I saw the ocean and a ferris wheel. I got sunburned on my head because it was sunny.”
Succinct and to the point.
(Sidenote: I actually did go on vacation to California with my family when I was in 1st grade. Half of it was spent watching All My Children in the lobby of the Children’s Hospital of Orange County because my little sister was sick and got dehydrated. It was the best! Seriously. You know how when you were a kid, little emergencies like that are exciting? Or was that just me? I would secretly hope for tornadoes or alien invasions to bring excitement to my mundane suburban life. Also, that kind of catastrophe would be a prime opportunity for me to pretend like I was the star of a disaster movie. I always imagined I’d react with the strength and poise of the blonde chick from Jurassic Park.)
So much for being brief.
And now… some retro-looking photos. Enjoy!
Paul McCartney: Eeeee!
Sunday night, I saw a Beatle. My favorite Beatle. IN THE FLESH.
Granted, from where we were sitting, he was a beetle-sized Beatle, but I came face to massive-jumbo-tron-sized face with Sir Paul McCartney. We were breathing the same stale, humid, city air for OVER THREE HOURS. I’ll never wash these lungs again.
Paul McCartney at Wrigley Field. Oh yes, it was as epic as you’re imagining.
Yes, even though we were that far away, it was still awesome.
And while I wasn’t spastically shrieking and pulling on my hair like the girl sitting in front of us (that’s so 1964…), I did freak out a little bit internally. Which is pretty much the only way I ever freak out. (No, you can’t read my poker face!)
I really can only describe it this way: Anticipation. Lights! Paul! Crowd roaring. Waving. Guitar playing. Hello, Goodbye! Jimmy Hendrix and Eric Clapton storytelling. Paperback Wriiiiiterrrr (wriiiiterrr…wriiiiterrr…). Sweating. Piano playing. Maybe I’m Amazed. Live and Let Die. Explosions! Fireworks! Hey Jude! Encore #1! Encore #2! Thank you, Chicago! AND… I’m spent.
Not to rekindle those “Paul is dead” rumors, but I’m not entirely convinced that the Paul McCartney we saw onstage was not a genetically engineered clone or an impressive illusion created by light and mirrors. (Also, this website is mildly convincing.) Otherwise, this guy turned 45 and immediately stopped aging. No way he’s in his late 60’s. He spent three hours playing various instruments and screaming into a microphone on a humid, 90-degree night and the man did not take a single break. Or a drink of water. EVER.
Upon fruitlessly searching for an IV line trailing from his arm, we became concerned that we might witness the dehydration and subsequent death of a superstar.
But who were we kidding? He’s Paul Mc-freakin-Cartney. He doesn’t NEED water. He gets his strength purely from the sheer force of his rock-and-roll legendary-ness that leaves others gaping in its wake. And pot.
And just in case you’re not convinced that it was kick-ass concert, check out the Hey Jude awesomeness below.
All hail Sir Paul!
Rhetorical questions
Remember when the restaurant Chipotle first started popping up everywhere and no one knew how to pronounce it? “Want to get lunch at Chip-o-tal?”
I know he’s a prince and everything, but besides THAT, does anyone else thing Kate Middleton could have done better?
Don’t you miss using Wite-out?
Does anyone really believe that all the nudity is actually integral to the plot in Game of Thrones? (HBO = Home Boobs Office)
Why do Bluetooth people have to make life awkward for the rest of us?
Why do I continue to watch every single season of Real Housewives? WHY?
When are abnormally pointy elbows going to be in style?
How many cake pops is too many?
Can you please join Google+? Because right now I’m following the streams of approximately three people.
Is there anything more irritating than the sound of a person eating spaghetti in a completely silent room?
Anyone have any good restaurant recommendations in L.A.? (Ok, that one’s not rhetorical. I’m really looking for a good restaurant there. Any suggestions?)
Carlie Crash 
