Ending the year right - I got one of these meme thingeys...

From the always delighful CitySlicker Mom
Q)What were you doing 10 years ago?
I was in college and home in Indiana for winter break. I suspect I was scheming how I’d get back to school early to hang out with K.

Q)What were you doing 1 year ago?
I had the most miserable cold/flu/plague ever thanks to my darling nieces and nephews from my trip home at Christmas. Thanks kids!

Five snacks I enjoy:
Pub Mix from Costco (I call it crack mix)
Kashi Go Lean Crunch
Apples
Pringles BBQ Fat Free (don’t judge – they taste weird and pleasing to me)
Nutri Grain Cereal bars – strawberry or mixed berry


Five songs to which I know all the lyrics
Please…

Five things I would do if I were a millionaire:
Pay off all debt
Get some super swanky capped teeth like I'm a celebrity
Hire a personal trainer for every day
Go on a swanky vacation for weeks and weeks with Deeps
Set up college funds for my nieces and nephews


Five bad habits:
Wasting money on dumb stuff
Nagging my husband
Picking at my finger nails
Mindless snacking
Ordering in instead of cooking

Five things I like doing:
Hanging out with my husband – especially if he has a hilarious story
Going to the movies
Doing house projects – especially if my drill or saws are involved
Hanging out with friends and family
Writing or blogging


Five things I would never wear, buy or get new again:
Jeans with any kind of spandex in them
DuWop Lip Venom
Horizontal stripes
Nylon shirts
Pantyhose – unless it is an absolute emergency

Five favorite toys:
Laptop
Digital camera
Flash drive
Sawzall
Toro leaf blower/vacuum/mulcher

So here's the deal: Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot

Big red blog
Greensunflower
me vs. rut
ala carter
Unhip

Then select five people to tag:
Nabbalicious
Jasclo
Milkweed Hill
Poppy Cedes
Look at me. I'm so important that I have a blog.

You can fool some of the people some of the time
My friend from LA called earlier this week.

“I just read your blog,” she said.

“And…?” I asked.

Em only mentions the blog when she has something to share about it. Like the time she mentioned that Shannon Freeman from Designed to Sell googled herself and found me. And wondered if I was like a stalker or something – then she figured out that we attended the same wedding together.

I was expecting something along those lines.

“Are you really going to make your parents dig holes in the yard?”

Wind beneath my screens

Deeps is the master if tiny tools with fine control and cutting. Alyssa smashes things. 

Okay - we're totally not finished

This was once a nice place. A family with children lived here - then they sold it to us.  

Italians, your driving doesn’t scare me
You hear it in movies and people will warn you – beware the Italian drivers. The taxis will try to murder you. I wasn’t totally convinced…

We didn’t have a lot of cause to drive or ride in taxis. But we did have to drive up to the Villa for the wedding. Our taxi driver picked us up around 5 PM and zipped through rush hour traffic and up the hill – zigging and zagging until we arrived at the house. Several other people arrived in their cabs around the same time and literally stumbled out of the car all freaked out.

I was totally unmoved by our trip. Just picture it: lanes of speeding cars converging with little or no traffic coordination outside the notion of “yield” and a rotary: it was very, very familiar.

It was eerily like driving in and around Boston.

He’s special
Today, to celebrate the purchase of our home, Deeps suggested we hit the JP Lick’s to get some ice cream. No I did not make up the name.

Anyway, with no coaxing by the staff my husband ordered the El Diablo waffle cone which is a regular old waffle cone that was filled with chocolate ice cream – chocolate ice cream that was enhanced with cinnamon and cayenne pepper.

I can’t really describe the taste accurately – of course I had to try some – but the flavor hits you in waves. First the chocolate, then the cinnamon (near the back of your mouth) and finally the cayenne hits the back of your throat and burns.

It was weird, but not bad. Not unlike your decision to buy a house.

He’s totally right
The closing went very smoothly. It was a bit slow – but very, very smooth. When we’d signed papers for about 45 minutes and then waited for another hour for them to be filed – we got the good news. We’re officially home owners. The lawyer shook our hand and said “Congratulations and welcome to debt.” Yeah - he’s not wrong. But we’ve still got $80. Par-tay!

Right now I’m enjoying a little champagne and looking at the list of stuff we’d like to get for the new chateau. I’m thinking the burnt sienna blinds in the bedroom are going to have to go – but some projects can wait. I do only have $80.

We’ve already dabbed big splotches of paint on the walls. We’re sticking with all the paint color decisions but one. We’re dialing back on the teal and sticking with Waterfall (Benjamin Moore if you’d like to consult your color wheel). I was a little freaked out by the Stem Green and the Pear Green when I first painted them but they dried much darker and nicer. The pear looked totally neon when I first put it on the walls. I nearly passed out.

And the painter called to tell us that he can start our project a little earlier due to the bad weather they’ve had – thwarting their outdoor projects. I think we might do a little painting ourselves this weekend. I found a fantastic golden yellow to paint our office which is more of a dusky mustard/green right now.

Plus Deeps is itching for a project – so I figured this was a good one. I’ll watch him paint and after he spills half a gallon of Firefly on himself, I’ll take over. I’m really just looking for an excuse to buy one of those painter overall things.

I love accessories.

The House

Half a house - in 30 years and 4.35 gajillion dollars later it will be ours. 

Entry to the abode 

long view of the living/dining room 

The book nook - or at least, that's what I call it now 

More kitchen 

Mmmm.... shiny kitchen 

Built in hutch (and the basement door) 

The partially finished basement 

That's high efficiency baby! 

One of our four new bathrooms 

Office - window view 

Office -slanty door view 

Master bed - bathroom view - we're testing bad paint colors 

Normal closets available for everyone in the master bedroom - no I'm not paint the walls teal 

More Master bed 

Society of Ownership
I’ll admit I don’t really buy into the whole joys of homeownership thing. I didn’t set out to have a house. I figured it might happen some day – but it wasn’t like my dream or anything.

When we moved to Chicago and lived in the dumpy place where the guy beat his wife (below us) and the electricity failed with alarming regularity – I didn’t think we’d stay there forever. And as soon as the rent was raised we moved.

We found a great place that was big and had high ceilings and a large bathroom. We had plenty of room (although the closets left something to be desired). Plus we had a big balcony, parking for both of our cars and were closer to a more neighborhood (not on the ambulance route).

Of course when we rented that apartment on a warm summer night we didn’t know that it was across the street from a huge in-patient facility for people suffering from mental illness. It made for an awkward move when one of the patients spit on Deeps as we hauled in boxes. And it meant that we never hung out in the large neighborhood park because it was overrun by patients during the day. But in their own way, the occupants of the giant institution kept developers at bay and kept our rents in check. We only paid about $50 more when we left than we did when we moved in five years earlier.

The idea to buy a house first came up when we started looking to rent a place in Cambridge. The rents were – roughly – three times what we paid for similar size places in Chicago. That sticker shock sent us reeling. After we signed the lease and paid our first month’s rent we started planning for a future purchase. We wanted to make a move as quickly as possible.

When you’re throwing away a small portion of your annual income for a place to live – well, it doesn’t seem as dramatic. We didn’t have any liabilities, we could break our lease any time, and we were happy enough with our space. Our biggest complaint was that we could hear the dude upstairs getting it on with his girlfriend. But then they broke up – so things got quiet.

As soon as we started tossing away thousands of dollars a month on rent, well we changed our tune. And we had to contend with living below our landlord. This was usually fine but did create a different set of annoyances. For some reason I found it more bothersome to listen to the person we were paying good money to stomping around in the middle of the night. The fat dude who would never answer his door who lived above us for five years in Chicago never raised much more than passing ire. As soon as we didn’t get a clear sidewalk or easy parking – well I think that’s when we started to get fed up. We didn’t have the easy life of renting that we had in Chicago. In these small buildings, we were at the mercy of a landlord who was more often than not the occupant as well. All the things we paid for in the past – and were paying for now – were no longer quite so easy to get. Plus we were paying three times as much for it.

Which brings me to tomorrow: we will enter the bitter world of home ownership. I think for lots of people it is exciting – it is for us – but it was more a financial inevitability than anything else. We conducted a little cost benefit analysis and figured it would be easier for us to own than to continue to rent. Plus, the lady upstairs is getting on – I’m not sure how much longer she’s going to want to keep this house. Inevitably we’d be forced to find another place to live. And the vicious cycle continues. So that was the big driver.

But now that I have the possibility of ownership dangled before me – like a juicy carrot – I must say I’m buying into it more. I can’t say that I’m traditionally motivated about my home the way others are – but I am delighted to have walls that are not white. So after the closing we’ll head over to the new chateau and dab (that’s what Deeps calls it) paint on the walls to finalize our color choices. We'll take some measurements for a semi-swanky closet system and the storm door for the back of the house.

And then I’ll start complaining about property taxes.

Shut up, Maverick
Look, I haven’t said anything about it for a while – but the tiny megalomaniac that is Tom Cruise is really, really, really starting to freak me out. Like way to turn off the 30-something women, dude. That’s going to do wonders for your box office.

Nicole must be super psyched when she sees him on TV now being all churlish and freaky.

Oprah was right - we've never seen him like this before. And God help us if we have to keep seeing it. When is that stupid movie coming out again? I'm making a note to skip it.

Super smart
We’ve been looking at storm doors for the back door to the new house. Deeps is officially calling it “ours” since we are less than 48 hours from the closing. Way to get on board, Deeps!

So we took measurements several weeks ago for new blinds (because my husband cannot be party to hideous blinds apparently) and the storm door. Except that apparently we took the measurements wrong….

Thanks to the Interweb we’ve discovered what we did wrong and are hoping to get the correct measurements. I’m less optimistic about getting the door, however, since the size appears to be narrower than what is usually in stock.

But we don’t get the house for another couple of days to re-measure. Now we wait and I demand Deeps hand over his keys so that he can’t stage any late night door measuring missions. Seriously – we’re going to have to live there. No need to freak out the neighborhood before we even move in.

Fun with packing
I’m not sure when we managed to get weird bleach-like stains on every single towel we own. But we did.

I guess new towels will be added to the “to buy” list. I'm not sure how we'll fund that list - but I'll worry about that later.

Also: Deeps is not allowed to buy ANY more bandaids or eye drops. Seriously – we have about 50,000 of each.

Nice round number
We got the final number for the closing costs on Friday. I flipped because the number was significantly higher (about 40%) than anything I’d be quoted previously. I should note that I had asked weekly for about 3 months what our closing costs would be on each respective bid we made.

I would ask “Is there anything else? Do I need to allocate for more?” but didn’t get any answers. So I was annoyed but not totally surprised – although I was surprised enough that I hadn’t actually budgeted for it. The lender is not trying to be sneaky – there’s just optional stuff that you don’t know about. So do yourself a favor, homebuyers of the future, budget 40% overage for whatever you think your closing costs will be based on your talks with your lender.

That way you won’t have to declare financial lockdown and “martial law” to get through a holiday weekend. Not that anyone in this family did such a thing…. Nope. No one made the declaration that, “You’ve got enough damn pants and you can wait until June 1.”

Note to self
Keep that internal dialogue you always have running in your skull to yourself. Because loudly stating, “Good God it smells like day old fish,” while waiting at the bank will not endear you to your linemates. Especially the guy in front you who works at the fish market.

Just Married

Let them eat cake - but first, how about a little spumante? 

Lovely and Amazing

Behold the newlyweds - ET and EK looked fantastic and do those people know how to put on a party. 

TiFaux
I did it people – when I made the arrangements with the cable people to set up the cable/internet/phone service I figured I’d cough up the extra $9 and get the DVR.

So now when there are nights like tonight and I’m watching LOST and I need to pee – I can just pause it. Or I can ask my husband “What happened?” and then he’ll smirk and tell me to ask the Interweb.

I don’t want to say that he’s on thin ice – but seriously – that’s not cool. And so close to our anniversary as well.

And by the way – that was a good episode. Whew!

For the love of D
Our friend took care of the mighty Poopus and our apartment whilst we were frolicking in the sunshine.

He also provided us with “the safety net” on TiVo. We taped lots of TV but he also provided a backup in case there was an incident. Like how Deeps forgot to put the Thursday night taping on the correct channel and we taped The WB instead of The OC on Fox. We watched all the taped TV shows on Sunday after we got back.

I was really enjoying the Gilmore – some jetlag weeping, some jetlag laughing. Then Lorelei was talking to Luke in the diner near the end. And then Ryan Seacrest’s face appeared. No ending!

I immediately called D and just started yelling “What happened!” into his answering machine. Luckily, Deeps translated – and then D called us back to tell us.

Thank God – it was nearly grounds for divorce. I mean, you know – jetlag divorce.

Countdown
We close in a week.
We move in three weeks.
Nobody has done any packing since returning from Italy.
I guess we need to get on it. Pronto.

In the dark, we are all Italian
The night of the wedding – wow, those people know how to party – we drank and danced and ate a 17 course meal. Afterwards, our hosts were kind enough to provide transportation back to Firenze (that’s Florence to the Americans) from Fiesole.

Now I’d like to paint a picture. Imagine 45 really, really, really drunk people and like 5 sober people and the world’s most talented and patient bus driver (named Tomas) and you’ve got an idea of what we faced that night. I’d pretty much sobered from my red wine buzz. I don’t know what it is about red wine – but one drink and I’m done.

The bus was brimming with people including an English woman who was yelling about her hat and someone who kept yelling “Freebird.” I’m surprised Tomas didn’t drive us off a cliff to save himself. Anyway, the bus dropped us off at our respective hotels before heading to a discotheque – hence the bus became known as the Disco Bus.

We disembarked from the Disco Bus for many reasons – not the least of which was because we were exhausted, our feet hurt (fancy shoes!) and we had one day left in Firenze. I wasn’t going to sleep through it. We were dropped off in the middle of a busy street near several discos. We made our way through a darkened park and over to a parking lot where some drunk dudes were fighting.

We scrambled past – the night had grown very cold – and made it to a small footpath that dropped near our hotel.

A couple of young Americans were arguing about directions to somewhere.

Then they turned to us. “Scusi!” one of them said. He then proceeded to ask us how to get to the disco, in Italian.

At no time during our entire trip to Italy did anyone ever speak to us in Italian except: for a Korean shopkeeper and our taxi driver. Both times, when faced with rapid Italian – I responded in French. I’m cool like that. I’d like to think that we could – you know – pass for Italian if needed. But let’s be honest, the pasty redhead and the Indian guy aren’t fooling anyone. We’re clearly not locale.

Anyway - this time, we both responded to the bad Italian with our own bad Italian. And then we pointed. The dudes followed our directions and thanked us.

Only in the dark would we possibly be mistaken for Italian. And then only by Americans.

Florentine Holiday

See those 14 million tourists? Yeah - that's the Ponte Vecchio. 

Bella

A fountain, a balcony, and some red flowers - everywhere I went I felt like I was in an Audrey Hepburn movie.  

Fakes

Look at us - we're fake Italians!

He is totally going to make me take this down in like 20 minutes. 

Stormy

The view from our balcony on the afternoon we arrived - a mighty storm was rolling in.  

Clear Skies

Near the British Consulate - a view of Firenze and the Arno. 

Recipe for Disaster
I’m over the worst of my jetlag – I think.

So tonight I should be back on track to share many, many exciting stories of Italy. Okay – maybe not many. We were only there for 4 days.

But I might not be able to do all the sharing tonight – because we have what I like to call a “recipe for disaster” brewing. Take a three day Nor’easter, 55 mph winds, and combine with a week-old strike by workers at the region’s largest electric company and mix. We may very well be sitting in the dark tonight.

Oh did I mention it is only 48 degrees out?

Yeah. So there’s the cold too. I don’t’ think we packed the candles yet. Thank God I bought all those cheap cashmere scarves in Florence – they might come in handy tonight.

I don’t shake it
People – I’m on day two of not sleeping. Light napping – yes. But actual sleep moving into REM and then Delta – nope. It’s great.

I find everything hilarious and also sometimes spontaneously cry. It’s better than Cats.

Italy was fantastic. We had a great time. It was hot and kind of smoggy – man they need some unleaded fuel. But gorgeous and the warmth was just what we needed.

The food was great, we walked and hung out and saw art. Then at night we’d pull it together to go visit the 24-hour Party People. These people are all older than me and I just don’t shake it like them. I don’t think I ever have.

Every morning we’d get up and haul out and after walking around the old city in the 80 degree heat for most of the afternoon I’d have to go home and have a siesta. And then shower again. And maybe hit the mini bar – the Coca Light is the greatest beverage on earth!

I don’t think I’ve ever been as clean as I was during the past few days when I was showering twice daily.

But the boogeying – well, I tried. But I don’t really drink much anymore and that became apparent when I tried to keep up with even some of the lesser drinkers. I cannot drink my own weight in booze, remain charming and chatty, stay up all night and sleep for 25 minutes and still look fresh as a daisy.

In fact, I never looked fresh as a daisy the entire time we were in Florence because of the hot. I’m happy to report that it was colder and crappier in Boston when we returned today than it was when we left.

Thanks Beantown, for keeping it real.

I have more to write about – but as you can see from this entry, I should really try to get some sleep first.

By the way, photos are slow in coming because I got kind of lazy and let the art department handle most of the photos. Seriously – leave it to the professionals. They know what they’re doing. Plus, they will take your camera away.

I haven't slept in like like 40 hours.

Villa on a hill

The villa was pretty stunning in the evening sun, but it was even more amazing by moon and candlelight. Until bats started buzzing my head and I insisted we run inside and hide under a table.  

Duomo

The Duomo is big and pink and sparkles. Okay, it doesn't sparkle - but it is very large and very pink. And everyone knows pink is the new black. 

Arno

Man - Florence sure is pretty. We walked along the Arno every day, enjoying the scenery, admiring the water fowl and we even spotted a river otter. 

It’s not you, it’s me
You may be wondering, where is Alyssa? She’s away from the Interweb.

Thankfully, the Poopus is fully guarded by house sitter and friend, so we’re covered there. To be extra nice I even cleaned out the poop-o-matic 3000 this morning. Oh house sitter/friend – you are lucky.

We have money and directions and a crappy phrase book and a much better phrase book.
As a precaution, I weighed myself this morning. It’s unlikely that I’ll gain 35 pounds in 4 days – but let’s not make it a challenge, okay?

I have sleeping pills, stuff for acid indigestion, and headache stuff – so that should cover us for the whopping four days that we’re there. I should have booked this trip for longer, but I guess it doesn’t matter now. Plus when we return we’re just about a week away from closing on the house.

Nothing better go wrong while I’m gone. I’ll take lots of photos. Don’t worry.

Now I just need to learn how to say “I didn’t vote for him,” just in case anyone asks.

Bon Voyage!

Light Reading
Just finished Jake Halpern's first book "Braving Home" - if you like travelogues or have ever wondered "who lives here?" when you drive by an unusual location, this book is for you. It's like a really good magazine article. He reminds me a bit of John McPhee - probably because his choices are so interesting.

Halpern's book covers the stories of disparate people with similar issues: they're throwbacks, they're holdouts, they won't give up and go when they're the only people left behind. They love their homes and they stay - no matter what horrors await them: fire, flood, or lava.

You hear it a million times: everyone has a good story to tell. Wonder why we have so many crappy cop dramas on TV. Anyway, the book is fast and fun and you learn a lot about a certain kind of American. They cherish and keep more - nothing is disposable and ultimately they can't and won't take anything for granted.

As we prepare to move into our first home, I wonder when we'll move again. When we moved into our current apartment we didn't throw out a single moving box. We knew the next move would come very quickly.

But now, well - we don't take as much care with the boxes this time. We hope to stay for a while. Maybe not forever - but part of me finds the idea of forever very, very appealing.

Vacation is all I’ve ever wanted
So I think we’re almost ready. I did one last-minute trip to CVS to buy tiny bottles of crap. Because I love that stuff.

Somehow tiny bottles equal $35. After I came back I discovered I ran out of moisturizer. Stupid girl. Who do I think I am?

Ye gods.

Anyway, I’ve got clean underwear and some pants. Seriously – America where are the pants? I can’t tell you how hard it was to try to find a pair of normal pants. Not short pants or cropped pants or Capri pants – just pants. Nothing was out there. I ended up spending way to much on a pair of black polyester slacks that actually fit my body properly but don’t do much for my self-esteem and my bank account.

Mostly my bank account. Seriously – those pants are okay but not that great, ya know?

This is what my blog has become: bad pants and clean underwear and paint colors.

I don’t even know who I am anymore. Thank God I’m going on vacation.

No harm, no foul
Me:Looks like rain in Florence.
Deeps: Will it be sunny and nice in Boston?
Me: (typing and clicking on the mouse) Uhm. No.
Deeps: So it will be crappy anyplace we could possibly be.
Me: Yes.
Deeps: Well alright then.
Me: I’m bringing extra shoes.
Deeps: That’s your answer for everything.

I like to read
I’m taking three books to Florence – we’re there for four full days. One day is the wedding and it’s supposed to rain the rest of the time. But I figure I’ve got between 12 and 16 hours flying time. Plus airport down time.

So why not take a little light reading?

I’ve chosen the latest book from Laurie Notaro We thought you'd be prettier. I like to read her stuff when I’m in a foreign country because I get the jokes and because her books are always reassuring when you’re far from home. I don’t think that’s her intention, but I find hilarity reassuring.

I picked up a couple of mystery/thrillers. I think those books are easy to devour on the plane.

I also picked up Wendy McClure’s memoir I’m not the new me, but I think I might save that for when I get home. I don’t know if it’s good to read a weight loss memoir when you’re planning on eating your way around a country. Then again, maybe I should bring it.

But this all brings me to my latest book report: I read some dude books.

My husband picked up a few books by Richard Stark last year when he was looking to do some binge reading. The Parker books are very fast reads – but I’m not sure if I would say they’re totally enjoyable. I suppose they’re entertaining enough – like a big summer movie with shootouts and explosions. Plus I fee like if I ever go on the lamb and become as sociopath, I can figure out how to hide my identity and possibly launder money. Kind of.

Some of those parts are boring and sometimes I got a little bit of eye glaze during those parts. Plus the character dialogue leaves something to be desired. After reading those books I think I need some female characters – or even someone sympathetic to read about.

And I realize that as I’ve looked through the list of books I’ve read this year – I’ve been pretty under whelmed by most of them. I only really liked a handful. Maybe I need to do a little more research before picking stuff up.

I’ve got a summer reading list to make – but I have a feeling it’s going to involve more books about electrical and plumbing than delicious spy dramas or hilarious comedies of manners.

I’m packing as fast as I can
It has been pointed out to me, by my husband and my friends that I haven’t packed enough.

I know!

It was a deliberate decision. See – if I pack too early, I’m going to be all anxious to get into the place earlier. And we’re not going to move in before our scheduled date because we have painters and the door guy coming. I might be able to do some after painting cleaning, but that’s it. Then we move.

I’ve also been informed that I should start packing for Italy. We don’t leave for another couple of days, but whatever. I’m behind.

All I know is that I have special underwear and a dress – so as far as I’m concerned, we’re fine. Plus, my passport validation was never in doubt.

Today I was also informed that our hotel has WebTV and that “we may need to use it.”

ME: Oh, really?
Deeps: Yes – because I’ll need to check to see if Arrested Development got renewed.
ME: What?
Deeps: Look – it’s not my fault that our friends are having their wedding during upfronts.

Way to plan ahead – just something else to keep in mind when you plan your wedding. Also, try not to plan your wedding during the rainiest week in Florence in like 20 years. Just jot that down for next time.

We have different problems
I got a haircut a couple weeks ago – I figured it was time to tame the mane before the great Italian wedding.

Here’s the problem I have that lots of people don’t have: I have too much hair. If you look at me, it doesn’t seem like it. But if you’re cutting my hair – you start digging in and find layer after thick layer and the next thing you know you’ve got carpal tunnel from trying to do a blowout.

I once made a hairdresser cry – because she was tired of blow-drying.

My current hair manager, the much beloved Stephanie, is very good and totally understanding about my hair. She didn’t get tricked as so many others have. Plus, she is the first to regularly suggest thinning out the hair.

That’s right – I have to have my hair thinned about 2 – 3x a year. She uses the razor scissors and snips away and when it’s over, you can’t really tell any difference. I can feel a difference, but I don’t let just anyone feel up my head.

We did some thinning a few weeks ago – and I noticed it in the first few days after the cut, I can’t tell anymore. The hair comes back that fast.

I’m not sure where all this hair comes from. I suspect it had something to do with the fact I was a bald toddler. You know one of those kids who was bald and walking and talking at like 2 and didn’t have any hair to speak of until about 3. Yep, that was me.

Kids like that are creepy.

How many shoes do I take?
We’ve started talking a bit more about Italy – and much less about paint colors. This is probably a step in the right direction.

Tonight Deeps announced that he wanted “a relaxing” vacation. That’s how I want every vacation – but when I travel with him it doesn’t ever quite work out that way. He becomes the man with a plan. Each night he consults newspapers and countless guide books and then devises a plan that usually requires me to ready for breakfast by 8 AM. That’s not really like vacation sleeping in.

I nodded and muttered something like “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Then we talked about clothes – it has been rainy in Florence. What do we wear? What do we take? When do we leave for the airport?

I’ve decided on the dress – I think. I’m getting a final consultation on Saturday from my friend. It’s the most flattering, probably the coolest for a hot night and practical for use outside of a wedding - plus it requires the least amount of new foundation wear (that’s under garments for you men folk).

I mentioned this to Deeps, he’d voted for a long evening gown in a steely blue color.

“I have to wear a lot of special underwear with that,” I said.

“What?” he asked. “Special underwear?” He’s totally confused. I could explain, but what’s the point? I gave it a shot anyway. How else is he going to learn?

“Look – a dress like that requires that you be totally smooth underneath your dress – I’m not totally smooth. It's satin and clingy. So you’ve got to – you know – get the right underwear,” I said.

“I have it much easier don’t I?” he asked.

“Oh yes, yes you do.”

He munched on his sandwich for a moment and then stopped. He looked very concerned.

“I’m going to have to bring two pairs of shoes, aren’t I!” Oh Deeps, you really do have it easy.

Like Cats but Without the Music
I’m writing an entry about my cat because a) this is the Internet and b) I’m running low on ideas (headache – so bad….agh).

When I first inherited the Poopus, shortly after graduation, we moved to Chicago with Deeps. Deeps never had to live with a pet before – and he wasn’t fond of the Poopus. She doesn’t really “endear” herself to really – anyone. At that time I’d say she was clocking in around 8 pounds. Roughly “average” for a cat.

I was working nights at the Trib and Deeps was at Northwestern during the day. So at night, he’d be alone with the cat. And let’s just say she would get some “ideas” about how to entertain herself.

At least once a week I’d get some weird phone call from Deeps. His basic fear – which is probably founded – was that if something bad happened to the cat he’d be blamed. And so when the cat would do something weird he’d get all twitchy.

Exhibit A: Why can’t I close this drawer?
This happened a lot. The cat would “disappear” in the apartment. She’d hide in the back of the closet under clothes, under the sofa, or behind a bookshelf. Basically, anywhere she could squeeze.

One night Deeps called me – laughing hysterically. Apparently he’d done some laundry and was folding and putting away clothes. He must have left the top drawer of the dresser open for a few minutes. When he tried to close it, he got resistance. He couldn’t close the drawer.

Then he heard a faint “meow.” The Poopus had found a way to climb into the drawer and then shimmy behind it. He had to pull out the whole drawer and clothes to extract the cat.

Exhibit B: I never noticed that lump before
Usually the missing cat wouldn’t really raise any suspicions for Deeps. He didn’t care. But he would notice when the cat would get herself into a “sticky situation.” He’d hear the faraway “meow” and start the search.

Apparently, the cat really liked to hided under the bed. So much so that she’d made a little burrow into our bed’s box spring. She’d climb up into the box spring and hide out, but when she was ready to leave – couldn’t find the path.

So she’d cry. For a while. The cries would get more demanding. Eventually, Deeps would go looking for her.

The phone rang at my office. I talked quietly – trying to keep from bursting into laughter.

Me: This is Alyssa
Deeps: Your cat is probably brain damaged now.
Me: Oh god what did you do to her?
Deeps: I did not do anything to her. She did this to herself.
Me: Okay.
Deeps: She’s been hiding under the bed.
Me: Right.
Deeps: And now she’s actually hiding in the bed.
Me: What?
Deeps: She dug a hole into the box spring and she’s up in it. She can’t get out. It’s really dusty in there.
Me: Hmm…
Deeps: So what should I do?
Me: Don’t worry about it – eventually she’ll figure it out.
Deeps: She’s making a lot of noise. She’s crying a lot.
Me: Eventually, she’ll find her way out.

About an hour later the phone rang again.

Deeps: I got her out.
Me: Oh yeah?
Deeps: I used the handle of broom to kind of shove her towards the hole she made.
Me: Well, you did graduate at the top of your class.

I think that was his most traumatic single night with the cat. Except for the time I caught her trying to lick the Draino bottle that I’d left near the bathtub when we’d had a clog and then spent the next three hours deciding if she was going to die. Or the time I thought she had “the cat cancer” but really was just pissed because I bought her different cat food.

Or maybe the year-long nightly odyssey of “I hate you, cat in the mirror” in which she viciously attacked the mirrored closet doors around 3 AM.



Yep. She was free. Because you cannot pay for quality like that cat. Now she limits her "hiding" places to something a bit roomier.



And while she was once about 8 pounds, I think she's clocking in now around 16. I should note that she totally fills this adult-size chair.

From the Mixed up Files of Deeps
He sent me this link today – primarily because he thought the central conceit was “amusing” and found the punch line “hilarious”. I will let you guess the punch line. Here’s a hint – the word “girl” is in it.

Please to enjoy. It is safe for work.

We should be doing something else
I should be writing more, but I find that my free time is occupied with other pursuits.

Mainly – what are we packing. Are we packing for a trip to Italy? Are we packing for our 2.5 mile move?

What shoes should I take? Where did I put the checkbook? Did you read the guidebook about Florence? Why do I have to keep faxing my W2s to the mortgage company?

And now I’m totally wrapped up in TV: Is Lorelei pregnant? I totally knew he killed Lily Kane! Crap – who how much TV are we going to have to tape while we’re gone? It’s finale time people! What’s wrong with John Cho’s face?

I do know we’re painting the walls: stem green, pear green, waterfall, blue spa, firefly and peach brandy. I think the basement should be marigold. But for now it can stay cream.

Why does my head hurt? Oh yeah – I’m out of that Claritin stuff.

Why am I so annoyed by the people around me today? Possibly related to throbbing headache? Why do you have to dig through your purse for your T pass right in front of the turnstile? Why must you hug the pole and not let anyone in? Why must you wear so much cologne that I can smell your ghostly presence on the elevator – even though you are no where to be seen?

Did I call the gas company? I should do that. I should make a list. Where’s my notebook?

I think Deeps packed it. I should be packing.

An Announcement
We were walking home from dinner tonight – because someone wanted some “Yuppie Nachos” and I didn’t have anything that would resemble such a concoction available in my fridge.

Deeps: I’ve been thinking about it and I think we should paint the second floor sooner rather than later.
Me: Mmm hmmm…
Deeps: You know, while the momentum is going.
Me: Right.
Deeps: While the weather is good and we can leave the windows open.
Me: Before our first party?
Deeps: I’m not sure if it will be that fast… but somewhat fast.

We walked in silence for a few minutes.
Deeps: And I think we’ll do the office in Firefly and the guest room in Peach Brandy.
Me: Oh yeah?
Deeps: I think those colors will work nicely…

So there you have it.

Cat sitter deployed
Our friend is going to stay at our place to keep it safe from cat freak outs and burglars. The Poopus will be delighted because she will get to sleep in the bed with a man – all by herself.

The Poopus loves dudes – the smellier, the better.

I’m not totally sure where this fixation came from. But I do seem to recall our roommate Smelly teaching her about the joys of cigarette smoke and stale beer. He used to sprawl on the couch with the tiny cat on his chest and he’d give her sips of his beer.

I guess that’s where she got it from.

Now she’s like 16 pounds, bitter, and cranky. I never feed her beer. Must be why she’s mad.

Take my apartment please
It’s large and clean and free of hippies and spiders.

There are closets and cabinets and cupboards galore. And lots of windows. You’re close to that good cheese place and the excellent pizza joint. Plus – quite walkable to many kinds of public transportation and also mansions (if you’re so inclined).

I’ll throw in a 4000 pound air conditioner and if you’re very nice, a 9 month old microwave.

People are starting to come through our place – it’s up for grabs starting July 1 (or possibly a few days earlier). I’m desperately hoping someone will take it off our hands for the last 2 months of the lease and just do some super 14-month lease.

I realize that’s not very exciting to you, Interwb – but the idea of paying new super mortgage and rent on top of that keeps me up at night.

Television’s greatest mysteries revealed
Again, I contacted many of my closest Hollyweird spies to share with me their exciting and sexy sweeps secrets. Behold.

1. LOST – The Lostzilla monster is the dog. It’s really, really, really mad about the lack of snausages on the island. And someone decides to dabble in cannibalism, because why the hell not?
2. Veronica Mars – Leland Palmer is the killer.
3. Gilmore Girls – Rory decides to pursue a quiet, boy-free career and Lorelei gets spun off into her own show. Which would be much more interesting to watch. Shut up Rory – double shut up Logan.
4. Desperate Housewives – I make it through a whole episode without declare that the show is unwatchable (highly unlikely). I think that one kid did something shifty. All the cats in the neighborhood vanish - look for the Scavo kids to be behind it.
5. Survivor – That hot person wins and goes on to make a movie with Rob Schneider and a series of commercials for AVIS.
6. ER – That show is not still on is it? Really! Someone gets an axe to the – uhm – head. Or something explodes and hilarity ensues.
7. Stacked – Pam Anderson accidentally gets locked in a closet with her boss and her shirt accidentally falls off and hilarity ensues. I can’t believe they haven’t renewed Arrested Development yet.
8.According to Jim – According to EW, people watch this show. I don’t know any of them. I’ll assume no one cares what happens.

Disclaimer: The spoilers listed above are all lies.

Checklist Ahoy
Homeowners Insurance: check
Painter hired: check
Door Hanger hired: check
Movers hired: check
Measuring visit to new house: scheduled
Paint colors: partially picked
Boxes Packed: 13
Closets cleaned out: 0
Days to move day: 30+

We went to the paint store to review colors and pick up some pots of sample paint.

Now Deeps has the color wheel and is trying to be a paint detective to figure out why we can’t get certain colors we like. We’ve got paint for the bedroom, bathroom and kitchen picked out. The master bed and bath will be shades of blue - Waterfall and Blue Spa, to be precise.

The living/dining room is totally problematic. We wanted to do shades of green in the living/dining room and kitchen. So the kitchen will be “Pear” green and we’re looking at something more basil/asparagus like for the living room.

Except that the Benjamin Moore people don’t seem to carry anything quite that color. We’re kind of close, but not exact – and that’s what bugs me. And seems to really bug Deeps.

While none of this is really that problematic, it is funny to watch him try to figure out what color we should choose. Now he’s talking about the second floor colors – the rooms we’ll paint ourselves.

He’s digging through dozens of paint chips and looking at the color bible. From time to time he comes into the office and holds up paint to the desk or the bookshelves we have in the office.

“I read that orange is one of the hot colors, but I think orange will make the desk look more orange than cherry,” he said to no one in particular. “And I think we’re going to have to paint these bookshelves. The woods clash.”

I’ve made myself a little decorating monster.

Everybody was Kung Fu fighting
It’s pouring, some people may have been a bit hung over (I’ll never tell) and since it was Sunday – it seemed like a good idea to hit the old mall-o-plex.

We caught Stephen Chow’s latest kung fu comedy Kung Fu Hustle which is quite enjoyable and utterly delightful.

The plot is a bit thin – much more style than substance. But when you have as much style as Mr. Chow, you don't miss the substance. I counted lots of nods to various influences: Bruce Lee, Bugs Bunny, Stanley Kubrick and maybe a little spaghetti Western.

It was fun and fast – not a bad way to spend a cold, rainy afternoon.

More to come
I apologize for the spotting posting – I’m a little low on fresh material. This is a poor excuse. But I’ll make up for it this weekend. With each passing day, the weather reports for the weekend get worse. I expect by tomorrow morning I’ll be advised to build an Arc.

Deeps informed me we’ll have to turn the heat on – way to go May.

But does he know he’ll be working?
Since we announced we’d be buying a house, my father has been very vocal with his support and offers of help: he wants to come out and build stuff.

He even volunteered Bangles help – I don’t think she even knows. I can see them now: wayward loners, traveling across America installing new linoleum and building small decks. Its genius I tell you – greenlight it for 13 episodes.

When we told him we’d gotten the duplex, he perked up and suggested a trip out this summer since he’s got some free time (he’s a school teacher) after he finishes his summer school stint. I mentioned this to Deeps.

“Does he know that we’re going to try to put him to work?” he asked me in all seriousness.

I then recounted the history of the Boehms: Boehm fathers come to Boehm children’s homes to do stuff. My gramps came to our houses during Spring Break and for a week in the summer to help build lots and lots of things. My father now goes to my sisters’ houses and helps them build and install stuff. I’m just late to the game.

Plus we have a secret weapon – Grandma Slim. She’s fresh out of her three weeks of retirement with a new job, a new figure and lots of vim and vigor. I got a report from Cuddles that Slim had blazed a trail of bleach and cleanliness through her house on a recent visit.

Sign me up – my bathroom could use some help. Of course the big problem with them visiting this summer is that our “projects” - painting and putting on a storm door – will be done by the time they arrive. And we’ll be out of funds to do any more this year.

Now that I think about it – if there’s nothing for them to do, they may not want to visit.

Plus I’m totally going to have to buy a better saw. The old man may want to supervise that purchase as he did with the last one. He may have hoped for sons, but he seems pretty happy with a bunch of daughters that have their own tools.

SUNDAY, SUNDAY, SUNDAY!
Did you know it is Mother’s Day on Sunday?

I did. I’ve gotten about 4000 emails every hour from any retail web site I have purchased from, visited, thought about, known of and vaguely heard of reminding me.

MOTHERS – YOU ARE COVERED.

Because I’m in charge of ordering gifts, you will get them in a timely and orderly fashion. I think you’ll enjoy them and I spent time picking out individually appropriate gifts for each of you: my three mothers. Oh yes, I have three. Beat that.

If Deeps were in charge, he’d make some sad midnight run to CVS on Saturday and mail you stuff on Monday. After SUNDAY!

That’s where he is right now. Buying a replacement anniversary card for my in-laws because the man lost the card we bought just yesterday. YESTERDAY.

Now you see why I’m in charge of gifty things. Also I pick out hilarious cards.

Bring the Kids
Some white supremacists are coming to a nearby town on Saturday to do a rally thing. I’m not really sure why or whatever – but I know it is totally going to rain.

So even if they put up signs and have balloons and clowns, there probably won’t be a big turn out.

I could write a whole tirade about this kind of crap, but I’ll refrain. I will say this: I lived close to where Ricky Byrdsong was murdered by one of Matt Hale’s followers back in 1999.

Deeps was out of town when it happened, but I was home alone – and desperately happy that he wasn’t there. I walked by the funeral and memorial services for Mr. Byrdsong – it was all so close to where we made our home.

Deeps and I talked about going, but we’re going to send a donation to the Ricky Byrdsong Foundation instead.

Like J. Lo – but with more class
I have narrowed down the wedding dress option to two finalists. I decided to go all out and order both and wait.

“So why did you get two?” Deeps casually asked when I told him.

“Because, I want to have the option of picking between them. You know – like J.Lo on Oscar Night when she has a bunch of choices and just “feels like” wearing the most hideous dress ever,” I gushed. “Except mine won’t be hideous.”

“And hers probably don’t come in a cardboard box and sit in the mailroom all day,” he snarked.

Oh he thinks he’s so smart. Let’s see how smart he is when we get to Italy and he can’t figure out where the bathroom is. I’m not sharing that little piece of info.

A check for $400
My friend warned me about this – when you get close to the end of the purchasing process and suddenly you need to send out checks for $400 (approximately). I was totally ready. Warned. I had fresh checks.

Then I was reading over the mortgage again and was like – homeowner’s insurance, check – yep. Then I paused when I read I needed to pre-pay one year and have proof at the closing.

What! How did I miss this? Is it in the book?

Damn. It’s in the book.

And the pamphlet!?!
Yes, the pamphlet too.

So now I have to go talk to the world’s ickiest insurance agent and buy some homeowners’ insurance. Gah.

Stupid checklist.

Why is that?
Every time I read Wil Wheaton’s blog, one of his pets dies.

I’m not a regular reader. So – I guess I’m going to stop. For the safety of his pets, I suppose. I feel terrible.

It’s always dismemberment with you, isn’t it?
I have now read two of Ian McEwan’s novels and I’ll say that I think I’m through. I barely made it through the last one.

Look – I know you’re all cool and popular now, and I find your earlier work interesting and disturbing. But there’s only so much dismemberment I can handle in “literature.” I clearly went through a period of nasty, crap horror – but yeesh.

I do like that you’ve kind of pulled a fast one and now you write much more high-brow stuff. I have a hard time believing people who have pushed Atonement on me read The Cement Garden or even The Innocent. No sirree.

That said, they’re really good books – I just need a break from all the dark. I need some funny. Maybe I need more Jasper Fforde or Laurie Notaro. She’s got a new book coming out soon (confidential to Rachel – I’m on her mailing list).

Now that it is spring and I have a house (almost) I think I need funny. Or memoiry. Nothing sad. Or sneakily sad (like tonight’s episode of Veronica Mars). Just funny is fine.

Also – up to 28 now slow readers (see the list on the right). Who can catch me? I am the greatest. I float like a butterfly and sting like a bee.

Damn, I hate when TNT runs the same movie all weekend.

Gulager!
Project Greenlight is better with each passing week. I think this has been the most fascinating season. I would be happy to sign up to watch Gulager and his antics – we’ve dubbed the show Project Gulager – every week.

Deeps suggested we even go see the movie – and he’s never made such a suggestion in the past. He also offered that he’d be willing to “click a button and send $5 directly to Gulager” – so there’s that.

For all your moving needs
We now own three tape guns. Why? I’m not sure – but my husband was not satisfied by the apparently “sub-standard” (in his opinion) tape gun I bought at his request on Friday. And then we got another on Sunday – well he did it. I could barely haul myself out of bed.

Anyway, we have a lot of tape guns and if I’ve learned anything – it is that you want one with “good teeth” and a “guide or gate” to keep the tape from slipping off.

Don’t say I never gave you any good information.

Like the worst hangover ever – and with Mexican food

Yesterday we decided to look at storm doors for the house. I’m starting to come to terms with the idea that we’re going to be homeowners soon. It’s weird, but you know – what isn’t?

So we looked at storm doors that had a screen to get some nice cross-ventilation going on the first floor since we don’t have the Central AC (we got so close on that other place, that had the Jacuzzi tub and steam shower – but its best not to dwell). And I found out the guy we’re hiring to paint can also install the door – bonus.

After we looked at doors, light fixtures, other doors, windows, trees, patio furniture, Tyvek house wrap, and about 400 other things Deeps announced he was “starving.”

“Are you up for questionable mall food?” he asked.
“Is the Pope Catholic?” was my response.

He picked the place close by - a Tex Mex joint that looked like it might be part of a chain. I’d never heard of it and even now the name totally escapes me. I suppose that’s my body’s way of coping.

We sat down and were quickly served by some woman and her protégé, Jeff. “He’s training,” she said as she tossed some tortilla chips on our table.

“Hi,” was all Jeff could muster with a wave. Jeff, you make me feel very, very old.

We ordered some different stuff and it became clear after food started arriving that we’d be eating a completely breaded/battered fried meal. Now where I come from, Indiana, this isn’t totally unusual. In a holdover from the days of farming (there are still farmers – but not everyone is a farmer) the meals are on the large side. You needed a lot of fuel to do that work.

I can recall stopping at a truck stop in northern Indiana on our way back to Chicago after visiting my parents in Indianapolis. Deeps ordered a turkey sandwich which came on a double skillet platter, open-faced, on Wonder bread, with mashed potatoes, stuffing, turkey and all covered – the entire plate – with weird yellow gravy.

“Do people need to eat like this everyday?” he whispered over the giant mound of food.
Not really, not anymore. I don’t know any farmers anymore. The closest I know to a farmer is my father – when he gets a load of aged horse manure from a neighbor and shovels it into the flower beds.

But I digress. I’ve eaten this kind of food before – but I’ll admit that age and certain lifestyle choices have afforded me a certain luxury in choice. I choose not to eat food like this very often. And now I know why.

We ate, slowly, chatting and laughing and commenting on the friedness and oooh how we’ll pay later. I don’t think either of us felt like we’d really pay.

But we did.

Towards the end of the meal, Deeps complained that his “gut is starting to revolt already.” Apparently the man with the iron stomach is a big baby. That’s what I thought. Until after we got the check and I got to the car.

“Oh God, it’s like a brick in my stomach,” I whined. We drove home and I headed for the bathroom to take some Tums.

At some point I made it horizontal on the bed. I was feeling pretty nauseous and my head was starting to hurt. I think I fell asleep. When I woke up about 25 minutes later I felt like I’d just come out of a night of hard, hard, hard drinking.

Hard – like the worst hangover ever. I was kind of clammy and my head was pounding. The crappy Tex Mex food was kicking my ass. I thought if I made myself sick I’d feel better. No such luck. I prayed for a quick death.

About 8 hours later I started to feel normal. But that questionable meal decision took more out of me than I dared to acknowledge. I’m too old to eat like that – and now that I know how I’ll feel afterwards, I don’t expect I’ll try that again.

I’ll have the salad next time – and please hold the bacon (sometimes they try to sneak that into your salads in Indiana).

End of the Trend
Deeps has officially proclaimed the poncho-trend (so horrifying) over. He’s not fashion expert. He does admire pretty colors. And while not an "expert" or he is a mathematician – so he has special numbers skillz.

He declared the end of the trend when he spotted 30-something soccer moms wearing the ponchos, followed quickly by a pair of “very ordinary” twin seven-year-old girls sporting them at a mall.

“I really think its over,” he confirmed over lunch yesterday. But according to his wife, me, the trend will probably continue because “it takes longer for these things to hit the middle part of the country.”

In conclusion – poncho is out. Please commence burning them immediately.

Conspiracy theory
We waste our time getting haircuts and we miss a big explosion/fire/non-event/maybe it was something? in Harvard Square.

Disappointing. I didn’t see anything about it on the news. But I expect so little from TV news, especially on the weekend. It’s totally possible that I made that limo explode with my mind, despite being miles away or possibly napping.

I totally can't remember.

A good reason to elope
When the third fight you have with your mother over the matchbook covers and cocktail napkins ends in tears…. There are alternatives to staging your own abduction.

Seriously, this isn’t a Doris Day movie. Just say no.

Now, Voyager
The movie is fantastic. It very closely follows the book.

But the book is just so good. I loved to get sucked into the pulpy melodrama.
I can’t say enough nice things about The Feminist Press’s reissue of “Now, Voyager”. I’ve read most of the other books they’ve released – which are notable books written in the 30s and 40s by women pulp authors. Most of them are overlooked classics.

Some aren’t so great – and I’ll admit to skipping over the stuff that reminds me of school – the forward and afterward. I skim the later. But yeesh – I was an English major – I understand symbolism. (Also some of these people could take a lesson from Mr. Von D and learn to write their formal “criticism” in a slightly more accessible manner.)

I think “Now, Voyager” may displace “In a Lonely Place” as my favorite Feminist Press re-issue. I know there are plenty of people out there who aren’t afraid to pick up a book from the Feminist Press – get thee to the library.

The incident on the El in the morning time
Last week my friend Bea IM'd me about... well - I've included the transcript below.

She and I worked together for a long time in Chicago - and she's still there. I love a good El (the elevated train that runs through the city) because they are almost always disturbing or hilarious. (Or both)

If you'd like more hilarious, disturbing and entertaining stories about public transportation - please visit The CTA Tattler, Bad Transit or do some crazy Google searching. I find at least one site for every city with public trans.

bea (10:26:32 AM): Hello.
AB (10:26:38 AM): hi
bea (10:26:45 AM): Wanna hear my Redline story?
AB (10:26:53 AM): please!
bea (10:27:10 AM): At Howard, I'm waiting for
Purple Line.
bea (10:27:16 AM): Two Red Lines on the tracks.
AB (10:27:23 AM): right
bea (10:27:34 AM): Train #1 announces doors
aclosing....
bea (10:27:43 AM): announcement repeated.
bea (10:27:49 AM): i see 30ish guy
bea (10:27:59 AM): standing in car door nearest
me
AB (10:28:00 AM): uh huh....
bea (10:28:05 AM): eating his egg sandwich
AB (10:28:08 AM): like blocking the door?
bea (10:28:15 AM): eyes are bloodshot
bea (10:28:17 AM): yes
AB (10:28:22 AM): oh god
bea (10:28:29 AM): i decide to bite my tongue
AB (10:28:39 AM): is this man in the hospital
now?
bea (10:28:41 AM): the CTA conductor comes all
the way down
bea (10:28:48 AM): this is the back of the
train
bea (10:28:56 AM): asks him what's he doin
bea (10:29:00 AM): the guy says:
bea (10:29:10 AM): I'm waiting on my friend to
get here!
bea (10:29:10 AM):
bea (10:29:13 AM): !!!!!
bea (10:29:23 AM): so then
AB (10:29:26 AM): jesus mud puddle -
what an ass
bea (10:29:34 AM): i look at another man on the
platform
bea (10:29:50 AM): we both make astounded
facial expressions
bea (10:30:01 AM): This guy is good looking---
bea (10:30:06 AM): Long, brunette hair
bea (10:30:13 AM): nice brown eyes
bea (10:30:15 AM): we chat
AB (10:30:21 AM): the guy you make eye contact
with?
AB (10:30:25 AM): not the drunky
bea (10:30:29 AM): we get on the purple line
bea (10:30:31 AM): Yes
bea (10:30:37 AM): the drunky disappears
bea (10:30:42 AM): somewhere i don't know
bea (10:30:45 AM): i don't care
bea (10:30:50 AM): so my cool guy
bea (10:30:55 AM): and i chat
bea (10:31:03 AM): he's from Romania
bea (10:31:13 AM): and yes he looks like a
gypsy
bea (10:31:15 AM): and yes
bea (10:31:20 AM): he's a musician
AB (10:31:23 AM): uh oh - is this turning into
a Penthouse forum letter
bea (10:31:27 AM): who plays i think he said
the sitar
AB (10:31:36 AM): dreamy
bea (10:31:38 AM): (couldn't understand his
accent)
bea (10:31:40 AM): yes
bea (10:31:41 AM): and
bea (10:32:01 AM): he gives me his card -
bea (10:32:11 AM): he plays at a bar on lincoln
ave
bea (10:32:15 AM): so anyway
bea (10:32:21 AM): i give him my card
bea (10:32:24 AM): what the hell
bea (10:32:35 AM): (I'm 41 and still as randy
as ever)
AB (10:32:37 AM): right
AB (10:32:41 AM): heh
bea (10:32:46 AM): and then I get off at
belmont
bea (10:33:01 AM): one minute phone call
bea (10:34:00 AM): ok
AB (10:34:15 AM): ok
bea (10:34:21 AM): get excited cuz the red line
car is empty and i can sit down
bea (10:34:23 AM): until
bea (10:34:27 AM): i see why
bea (10:34:30 AM): or smell why
AB (10:34:32 AM): uh oh
bea (10:34:40 AM): a lady is sprawled sideways
AB (10:34:48 AM): NO!
bea (10:34:49 AM): and she's crapped her pants
AB (10:34:55 AM): OH MY GOD NO!
bea (10:34:55 AM): so i guess she's not a lady!
bea (10:35:03 AM): O H F***ING YES!
AB (10:35:04 AM): SHE'S NO LADY
bea (10:35:17 AM): So I immediately leave that
car
AB (10:35:20 AM): and everyone just left her
there - no one called the conductor?
bea (10:35:23 AM): and go to the next one down
bea (10:35:25 AM): dunno
bea (10:35:35 AM): and get on
AB (10:35:43 AM): this is the greatest story
I've ever heard
bea (10:35:50 AM): (oh and I see [redacted guy we used to work with] who says hi to me_
bea (10:35:58 AM): and on the next car
bea (10:36:01 AM): is my gypsy
bea (10:36:02 AM): again
AB (10:36:07 AM): oh my god
AB (10:36:15 AM): you guys are soul mates now
bea (10:36:16 AM): so i tell him about this new
second improved CTA experience
AB (10:36:34 AM): right
bea (10:36:45 AM): and then he chats about how
he likes to travel
bea (10:36:55 AM): how so many chicagoans never
leave chicago
bea (10:37:02 AM): he loves vegas.
AB (10:37:04 AM): you've got to figure there
have been a few train riding pants crappers in Romania
bea (10:37:06 AM): new york
bea (10:37:16 AM): Yes, methinks so too
AB (10:37:28 AM): then what?
bea (10:37:30 AM): so, anyway he gets off at
Chicago and says hell call me
bea (10:37:43 AM): I tell him maybe I'll see
him perform on a Monday night.
AB (10:37:48 AM): wow
bea (10:37:50 AM): and that is my morning!
bea (10:38:02 AM): i must save this transcript
and write it up
bea (10:38:08 AM): for the red line blog that
exist
AB (10:38:12 AM): this is a story that needs
to shared.... maybe you should send it to the CTA
tattler
AB (10:38:14 AM):
http://kjo84.typepad.com/cta_tattler/
bea (10:38:18 AM): exactly
bea (10:38:20 AM): thanks!
AB (10:38:32 AM): I might have to put it on my
site - because it's awesome.... ;-)
AB (10:38:44 AM): drunky, crapper, hot gypsy -
it's like a movie
bea (10:38:44 AM): can you save the log and
send it to me?
AB (10:38:50 AM): sure