Tag Archives: Chicago

Paul McCartney: Eeeee!

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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!

Pretty city

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Date: May 10, 2011

Time: 12 p.m.

Weather conditions: 80 degrees and sunny

Me: Getting the HELL out of my office!


Yeah, I’m the creepy girl in Millennium Park taking pictures of herself and other people eating their lunch. So?

Yeah, I’m the creepy girl in Millennium Park taking pictures of herself and other people eating their lunch. So?


Will loves the Cubs

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Ok, the title of this post is completely untrue. I wish I wasn’t a liar.

But even though Will is a die-hard St. Louis Cardinals fan, he is now associated with all things Windy City, based merely on proximity.

What am I talking about?

Carlie Crashers, I have some exciting news:

I have a husband again! Who lives with me! In the same city! And the same apartment!

Yaaaaaaaaay! (After going out for St. Patrick’s Day on Saturday, I can’t read/hear the word “yay” without picturing it being said by a drunk girl sloppily hugging her best friend while spilling green beer on her shoulder because she agreed to share her lip gloss.)

So yeah, I have a live-in spouse again, which is much better than the long-distance version. And the best part is that he was finally able to move up to Chicago with me because he got a new job that sounds like it will be a fantastic opportunity. So everyone is WINNING. (Except the word “winning” itself, thanks to Charlie Sheen. It’s probably been the most over-used word in the English language over the past couple weeks. And I just contributed to that. Sorry.)

Of course with Will living here, I’ll probably have to do the laundry more than once every 3 weeks and actually make stuff for dinner instead of heating up leftover pizza from the weekend or throwing a handful of shredded cheese on a tortilla and calling it a quesadilla. And now I’ll have to run around after him straightening up all the time because I’m a hyperactive neat freak and he’s a normal person.

But I’m pretty sure it’s worth it to be reunited with my other half. I couldn’t even bring myself to update my “Current city” to Chicago on Facebook until Will was living here too, if that says anything.

And if Will moving to Chicago isn’t exciting enough, we also just booked a trip to Vegas for next weekend! We were hoping to get a last minute travel deal to a tropical beach where we could relax and sip mojitos for a couple days, but travel deals only exist when it’s not spring break season and airline ticket prices are not in the midst of skyrocketing. So Vegas it is.

Stay tuned for a post about our trip our next week! In the meantime, I’ll be frantically applying self tanner, running to stores like Forever 21 and H&M to stock up on cheap, sparkly Vegas clothes (when in Rome…) and glaring at Will every time my alarm goes off in the morning since he gets to sleep in all week.

Blizzaster!

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If you live in the Midwest, I don’t need to explain to you why I worked from home yesterday and why, since I park on the street, I won’t be able to drive my car anytime in the forseeable future.

If you don’t live in the Midwest, you’re missing out! In case you didn’t hear, us Midwesterners just got dominated by a snowstorm affectionately referred to in the following ways: Blizzaster! Snowmageddon! Snowpocalypse! SnOMG!

Here in Chicago, most places got around 20 inches. That’s like three Gatsbys stacked on top of each other. People are skiing through the streets and Tuesday night Lake Shore Drive became probably the coldest, snowiest version of hell you can think of. Motorists got stranded in their cars, formed primitive tribes to survive and started looting 7-Elevens and eating each other.

Ok, it wasn’t that bad.

But let’s talk about my problems.

Such as:

I know it’s hard to see, but in the center of that photo, between the blue van and the tree, lies my car. Anyone have any thoughts on how I can begin to dig it out?

Oh, and here’s a key bit of information: I do not currently own a shovel. So we have to get creative with this one!

Even though I was supposed to be working at home yesterday, I decided to take a break in the late afternoon to walk around the block and survey the blizzard aftermath (and then write this post). It was quiet and pretty. And cold. And I’m glad I could enjoy it before it all turns into icy, slushy nastiness.

Well grass, it’s been real. I guess we’ll see you again in April.

Commuting blues (Alternate title: Commuting blows)

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So here I am in Chicago!

Actually, right now I’m in Wheaton, about 30 miles outside of Chicago.

That’s the problem.

I’m commuting to my new job downtown. Which is great! The job – not the commuting. And I can’t even imagine how much I’ll enjoy it once I figure out what the heck I’m doing.

But back to the commuting: I am SO over it. My commute is almost an hour and a half one way. <cue the violins>

As I write this, it’s 7:47 on Wednesday night and I just got home. All I’ve had time to do so far tonight is eat the dinner that my mother lovingly prepared for me and put away the laundry that my mother lovingly washed and folded for me (ok, there are some perks to this situation).

I’ll be honest. All I want to do right now is have a glass of red wine and watch the episode of Glee that I didn’t have time to watch last night. It was good, right? I swear, at least 5 of my friends haved quoted it in their Facebook status.

But then there’s this blog. And the last thing I want to do is neglect it. I love this blog! Because who doesn’t love talking about themselves? Or more specifically, who doesn’t love talking about me?

Now that I’m done being self-absorbed (or at least talking about it), I’ll get to the point:

There’s a very good chance that instead of exploiting this blog to spout my pointless musings, I may very well not have the time to post much on it. Abuse and neglect – I’m a horrible blog parent. Please don’t call DBWS (Department of Blog and Writing Services) on me.

Ok, can you tell I’m tired? I’m not even sure that last paragraph made sense. And I don’t care.

But don’t worry, I really am going to try my best to continue to blog as much as possible. I just wanted to issue a preemptive apology in case I go through a few writing dry spells due to this inflexible time suck called a commute.

Also, this situation is temporary! We should have an apartment in the city by January. This fact alone is motivating me to board the train with the rest of my cattle herd companions every morning and night instead of throwing myself in front of it.

So that’s my update for now! Sorry for the negativity. With the exception of the commute and the fact that I miss my husband and my dog who are stuck in St. Louis, everything else is great! Really. I’m not being sarcastic. I’m super happy to be back in Chicago and actually excited to be at work everyday. I’m just not excited to go to work.

Ok, enough of this. Time for Glee!

Movin’ on up

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Tomorrow is moving day!

I’m packing up the Stratus (and Will’s Honda) and moving on up to Chicago from St. Louis. I’ve been packing my stuff since Monday and am only about 1/4 of the way done. So today might suck a little.

As much as I’d love to keep procrastinating, I really don’t have much time, so I’ll provide you with some of my thoughts on this whole moving situation in the form of a numbered list. (I love lists. Oh, you want proof? Check it: here, here, here, and here.)

1. Everything about moving to Chicago is exciting and great, nay – GREAT!, except that Will and Gatsby can’t come with me right away. Major sad face. Will has to finish up his job in St. Louis (and subsequently find a new one in Chicago), so I’ll be husbandless and dogless and traveling back and forth between Chicago and St. Louis for the next month and a half. I’m officially in a long distance relationship. Ew. Thank God it will be holiday season or I might be seeking a subscription for Xanax right about now.

2. I’m moving in with my parents for the next month and a half. This is good because my parents love to spend time with me and do things for me (I’m spoiled). This is bad because my parents love to spend time with me and do things for me (I’m not 10 years old anymore). We’ll see how it goes. My major concern? I may need to cut down on some of the TV shows I watch because their DVR is full of crime dramas and weird Sci-Fi shows that my dad loves but I’ve never even heard of. The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills might have to be put on hold. Oh man, now I really might need that Xanax…

3. I’m so excited to start my new job! SO excited. I’ll be working as an editor/copywriter for an ad agency downtown. Waaaaayyy cooler than working on nursing textbooks at a publishing company in the middle of nowhere across the street from a landfill.

4. I’m a bit nervous to start my new job. Mostly because I’ll probably have to take a bus from the train station to get there, and I don’t think I’ve ever ridden a bus in Chicago before. I’ve taken the El pretty much everywhere you can take it, but the bus and I have yet to be acquainted. I think I’m going to go downtown on Friday and ride it somewhere. For practice. I’m serious.

5. Ooh, here’s another thing I’m really excited about: I know people in Chicago! A lot of people! We have friends and family out the wazoo up there. If you want to hang out with me, you better get on the schedule now – my social calendar is filling up! (Actually, no. It’s not. The only plans I have so far is to see a play. With my parents.) But still. I’ll miss my friends in St. Louis and the family we have there, but it will be nice to be have a wide variety of friends hang out with. I tire of people easily. (That’s not true either – I just wanted to say that. It’s delightfully snobby.)

6. I got STUCK in a heavy winter coat at Nordstrom Rack the other day. Wait- this is related. I decided that I need to get one of those massive puffy down coats that make you feel like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters because people actually need to wear those things in Chicago. I’m cold just thinking about it. Anyway, I was out shopping and decided to try on an especially puffy and warm one last weekend. I hastily zipped it all the way up to my chin, checked myself out in the mirror, yelled out “Hey everyone, come see how good I look!” (ok, no, I didn’t do that), and when I went to remove the coat, the unthinkable happened. The zipper got stuck! Like MAJORLY stuck. As panic set in, I yanked, and twisted and pulled with all my might, but to no avail. I WAS TRAPPED IN A GIGANTIC FURNACE OF A COAT IN THE MIDDLE OF A CROWDED STORE ON A BALMY 75-DEGREE DAY!! More panicking. Once I became certain that I was in the beginning stages of heat stroke, I ran up to the nearest employee and pleaded for her help. Long story short, she couldn’t get it, her manager couldn’t get it, and I was rushed to the alterations department where they had to literally cut the coat open to free me from its hellish, sweaty grip. I’m still a little traumatized by the situation. And I now have an intense appreciation for buttons.

7. Packing is the worst. Just the worst. If you’ve ever moved, I’m sure I don’t need to elaborate on this.

8. Even though I’ve been wanting to move back to Chicago pretty much since I decided to move to St. Louis, I’m actually going to miss this cute little city. It’s got some things going for it. There are 8 things in particular that I am especially going to miss, as evidenced by my recent Girls Guide post. (I love lists and shameless plugs!)

So those are my thoughts on moving at the moment. I think they can best be summed up with these words: Excited! Husbandless! Xanax! So excited! Nervous! HOT!

Moving day is tomorrow. My first day at the new job is Monday. I’ll let you know how it goes…

Adventures in Chi-town pt. 2: In which I hold a baby and get sort of drunk. Not at the same time.

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You guys. I held a baby last weekend. And I returned him to his mother, unscathed (I’m referring to myself, not the baby).

The baby (one mini Mr. Tyler Hoff, son of my high school friend Stacey) also survived in one piece. His head didn’t fall off, and I want to say he lasted a whole five minutes before bursting into tears. I also have to admit that he was sort of cute in a wrinkly, tiny person kind of way.

Is this a sign? Am I coming around? Do I maybe want a little baby Tyler of my own?

No.

At least not yet.

How do I know this? Because later that night Carlie the newborn baby holder met up with a group of her college friends and turned into Carlie the I’m-not-in-college-anymore-but-that-doesn’t-mean-I-can’t-act-like-it sorority girl and did some things (like stay out until 3 a.m.) that are soooo not mom-like.

So that’s the end of that. But overall, last weekend I had a great time back in Chicago (and surrounding suburbs). And here’s another shocker – I hung out with not one, but TWO babies! At the same time! Willingly!

That’s Tyler and Brooklyn, the offspring of my friends Stacey and Kristen, who seem to be handling motherhood swimmingly. I’m hoping to be able to learn a thing or two from them. They hold their babies like nobody’s business, and that’s not easy for Kristen. Brooklyn is a very healthy 6 months old and my forearm nearly snapped in half when she offered to show me how heavy a baby in a car seat can be. Lesson learned. I better start on the protein shakes now.

After a fun lunch with that crew at Stacey’s house, I headed out to Naperville to begin my baby-free part of the day and catch up with two more friends, Anna and Sarah. We went to a Mexican restaurant and did NOT get margaritas because a night of drinking copious amounts of sangria was in our future. So there’s proof that I don’t act exactly like I did in college (and that my fear of hangovers is almost as intense as my fear of sharks. Which is really intense. Have we discussed that yet? I HATE sharks).

Anyway, after a Diet Coke, chips and salsa and a bite of Sarah’s chicken quesadilla, I was fully fortified for a night on the town!

First stop: Café Iberico! Frequenting this place has become somewhat of a tradition for my college friends. The food is awesome but the sangria…oh the sangria…is purely magical.

And perhaps a side effect of the delicious Iberico sangria fruity goodness I speak of is big scary-ass bug eyes.

I don’t know.

Let me introduce you to the girls. Here we have Megan, Kim and Sarah.

And this is Laura, Emily, Jeannine and Sheena.

Now you can put faces with names when I talk about them again. Because I’m sure I’ll be talking about them again. You may recognize them from my original Adventure in Chi-town.

After downing about 6 pitchers of sangria, we thought it would be a good idea to drink some more.

So off to Clark Street Ale House we went! And we spent about 6 hours there. Almost a full work day. The best part was that I didn’t spend a dime thanks to a generous fellow named Stephan (with a soft “ph) who felt compelled to buy drinks for a bunch of people at the bar that he didn’t know. I hope Stephan remembers how grateful we were when he gets his next credit card bill. I’m sure that will make it all worth it.

The next best part was that I was introduced to a completely addictive game called Photo Hunt.

Basically, they show you two pictures that are slightly different and you have to point out the differences. The money we would have spent on drinks if it wasn’t for Stephan was quickly poured into this machine.

Then it was a quick detour to El Famous Burrito and off to bed (aka deflating air mattress on Megan’s floor)!

Ah, Chi-town. Thanks for yet another great weekend!

I have a feeling the spending-time-with-babies to going-out-drinking ratio in my future weekend trips will start tipping in the babies’ favor. But for now, this was a great balance! And that means something since my preferred balance in the past would have been 0% babies and 100% going out.

This is big – I’m making progress!

Home is in my chest cavity

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Home is where the heart is.

So…my home is in my chest cavity? Sounds warm and cozy enough! I hope I have cable in there. And WiFi.

Yes, I know I’m being too literal. But I have an issue with that saying. While it is a lovely sentiment, what if you don’t know where your figurative “heart” is?

If you read this blog regularly and don’t space out while you’re reading or carelessly skim the words because you’ve got more important things to do, you know that Will and I spent a few days in Miami this past weekend. The trip was lots of fun. South Beach is a beautiful, sunny place filled with loose women, crack heads, members of the Jersey Shore cast, and American Apparel stores. We had a blast! I’ll tell you more about it in my next post when I have a chance to upload my pictures.

Anyway, as the end of our vacation neared, I found myself thinking about going home. I hate when vacations end, but it’s always nice to get back to good ol’ familiar Illinois – land of Cubs fans, deep dish pizza, and Walter E. Smithe (you dream it, we build it!).

But WAIT! Hold the phone! Insert the sound of a vinyl record screeching to a halt here!

That lovely place I was envisioning myself returning to? I don’t live there! That was Chicago, or more specifically Wheaton (land of 1,000 churches and even more religion-based judgements! (Sorry Wheaton, I love you. Muah!)).

So that was weird. For a split second, I had actually forgotten that I now live in St. Louis. It seems that when I think of going home, going back to what is familiar and what I envision my daily life to be, I still think of my hometown.

So I guess whoever wrote the home is where the heart is saying would conclude that my “heart” and therefore my “home” is in Wheaton. But that’s so far from where I actually live – from my job, my cute apartment, my husband, and – dear God – my dog! It doesn’t seem right that my “home” isn’t where those things are.

Basically, myself and my heart are homeless. My physical self is happily living in St. Louis, but my heart is in Wheaton, probably rubbing it in by going to the Popcorn Shop every day and taking the train downtown to take walks by the lake and go out to nice restaurants. No fair.

Thus, I’m not a fan of the home is where the heart is saying. If it was on Facebook, I would not “like” it. I would be one of those people commenting on why there isn’t a “dislike” button.

I like to think that I just take my “home” with me wherever I go – that way, I’m always there! So for now, I’m going to go with the literal interpretation and say that my home is inside of me…possibly in my chest cavity, but I’d have to have an X-ray to positively determine that.

Adventures in Chi-town

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Even though it’s been almost five years since I moved from Chicago to St. Louis, I still feel like I sort of half live there. My family and a vast majority of my friends are still there, so between weddings, holidays, family events, and big parties that we just don’t want to miss, Will and I probably make the 4.5 hour trek up I-55 at least every other month. I could probably drive that route in my sleep at this point, and come to think of it, I think I literally have – I do it so much I even dream about it.

Last weekend was our latest Chi-town adventure. Normally when we go up there, we try to pack as many people and events as we can into a 48-hour period, and this weekend was no exception. Below is the play-by-play for your reading pleasure.

FRIDAY

8:30 am – 4:30 pm: Work. Blah.

4:30 pm: Pick up Gatsby at home. He immediately jumps into his crate when I tell him we are going to go see Riley, my parents’ dog and his homosexual love interest. More on this later.

5 pm: Arrive in downtown STL to pick Will up from work. Start texting him incessantly when he still hasn’t come down after 20 minutes of me waiting at the curb. Give him my best You Have Displeased Me look when he finally gets to the car.

5:20 pm – 10 pm: Drive. Drive. Drive. Cornfield mirage of something resembling civilization. Blink. Drive more.

10 pm: Arrive at my parents’ house in Wheaton. Let Gatsby out of his crate so he can explode from the car like a solo piece of canine confetti.

10:05 pm: Watch Gatsby latch himself onto Riley’s rear end like he’s hugging a redwood tree. Vigorous humping ensues. Riley tries to escape, but Gatsby is a quick one, even on two legs. I feel like I’m watching a sick furry conga line.

10:30 pm: Chat with parents while trying to keep the humping to a minimum.

12 am: Bed.

SATURDAY

10:30 am: Go with my mom to meet my cute (and very pregnant) friend Stacey and her mom for breakfast at Egglectic. I try to fit in good breakfast food during all of my Chicago trips as I feel St. Louis is very lacking in that department for some reason.

12:30 pm: Return to my parents’ house to find Gatsby humping Riley. Give Riley an extra scratch behind the ears for being such a trooper and not biting my dog in half.

1 pm: My sister and MK and Vicki (two of my mom’s longtime friends) come over so we can plan our trip to Charleston, SC in a few weeks. We are going to visit MK’s daughter Becca, and I CANNOT WAIT. Palm trees? Yes, please.

3 pm: Head to the West Loop to meet up with a bunch of our college friends. Bar food and beer. Good times.

7pm: BULLS GAME!! I had not been to one of these since high school. Since we were such a big group (there were over 25 of us), we got a special shout out on the jumbo-tron (IWU 2004!) and free posters of some guy named Derrick Rose. Score!

7:30 pm: Take this picture. I am the only one who looks like an ass. Go figure.

8 pm: At this point, I am probably on my 4th beer. My memory of the rest of the night goes something like this: Luv-a-Bulls are wearing sequins and pleather. I find this amusing. Will is wearing his coat everywhere because he’s afraid someone will steal it. Also amusing. Emily puts her gum on the side of her cup while she’s drinking. This is so college. Guess what? I find it amusing. The game is over. I miss B.J. Armstrong. Hey, we’re at a bar! Pineapple hurricane $5 special? Don’t mind if I do! This bar stool is getting increasingly precarious. Time to leave. Stop at El Famous Burrito? Don’t mind if I do! Shouldn’t it be El Burrito Famoso? Huh. Chit chat with Megan and Amit about creepy rural Missouri meth addicts. Aaaaaaannnnnnd SLEEP.

SUNDAY

9 am: Wake up. Shockingly, with no hang-over. This is turning out to be a GREAT weekend.

10 am: My parents pick us up at Megan’s condo and we head to North Ave. Beach to watch my brother-in-law Mark dive into ice cold Lake Michigan wearing nothing but a swimsuit and Indian headdress. Mark is odd, but even this behavior is abnormal for him. It’s called the Polar Plunge and it’s for charity.

11:30 am: 3rd Coast for brunch. This is my very favorite hidden gem of a restaurant in the Gold Coast. I’m only sharing it with you because you are nice enough to read my blog, but don’t tell too many people about it. If I have to wait to be seated the next time I go there, I know who to blame…

2 pm: Stop back in Wheaton to pick up Gatsby. His romantic weekend with Riley is over. He looks depressed.

3 pm: Drive back to St. Louis for what seems like THE REST OF MY LIFE. These drives home are always the worst.

8 pm: Home! Oscars! Great end to a great weekend!

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