Prairie Landing
Violence: electrical, taxable, and mercury-laden
Today I was on my way to the Osco and BOOM! a transformer exploded and caught on fire right outside. Full of sound and fury. I went in anyway and got all the way back to the pharmacy before the power went out. I wonder why it took so long? Now the power is out all the way from there to my neighbors across the street. I guess I got lucky.
Not so lucky was my interesting (READ: BORING AS HELL) discovery that even if your employer is withholding cash by the fistful, the IRS can still decide to clobber you with late penalties for not filing quarterly taxes.
Beware!
Jeremy provided me with his own Baltimore faves list, which he said wouldn't fit in the comments spot:
-The old man bar in Hampden that would occasionally metamorphize into a teenage discotheque around 9 pm.
-The World's Biggest Slice, also in Hampden.
-The fact that I only made $6,500 in 1997 and still had more disposable income than I do now.
-The Bar called, "Bar," where they would let you bring in records to play on their turntable on Thursday nights. [Ed.: That place smelled like a dirty sponge.]
-The Jolly Roger on Eastern Ave, where I once watched the Academy Awards with a bar full of obese, toothless women, who had much to say about everyone's outfits and had plenty of Crock Pot food to share.
-Samos restaurant - pre makeover.
-Some pizza place that I used to risk my life to walk to when I'd work late at the downtown's Kinko's...
-The view of the city at night when you pulled off I-395 coming from the south, where Baltimore looks like a huge metropolis.
-The
castle-prison.
-The quasi-kitchen supply store on Broadway that sold decades-old-brand-new gold lame oven mits and matching aprons.
-The feeling of security once you were inside your apartment which can only be truly felt when utter terror is only a few flights below you, out in the street.
-Video Americain, where I always carried an exorbitant late fee, even though it was in our apartment building.
-The Block. [Ed.: This is a pitiful red-light "district" consisting of one block of strip clubs next to the police HQ.]
-Going to OPEN SUNDAYS LIQUORS on Greenmount on Sundays to buy booze, with someone keeping the car running.
Now, on to the catfish. I called my friend
M up and she mentioned that when she spent last summer in Michigan, her social life took a turn for the worse so she and her brother would hunt catfish. Did you know people could hunt catfish? I sure as hell didn't. But she said the lake's all polluted and there's no oxygen in the water so they all hang around near the top. They're chock full of mercury, too. She said, "If you ever get bored in Chicago you should drive up there and try shooting some catfish!" I explained that Chicago city residents aren't allowed to own guns. She said, "That's OK, you just need an air gun for catfish." Like I know what that means. Where I'm from, the target of a gun is rarely even an animal, so I wouldn't know from air guns.
Chicago has had a gun ban since 1982. Chicago also has the nation's highest murder rate, beating out NYC, LA, and even good old
Baltimore. I'm all for controlling guns, but you've gotta wonder.
Blah, bla-blah, bla-blah . . .
I took my headache medicine and that makes me go on about whatever jumps into my head. Lucky you, the reader. (Actually, you
are lucky, because you can skip ahead more easily than people who may encounter me in person.)
Last night we went out to this place called Leadways. It had junquey art all over the place and two easels with tempera paint and brushes. Also a friendly bartender who reminded me of an eternally sunny barfly I used to hang out with in Baltimore, who also worked at the
world's best used bookstore. When I think of the top things I miss about Baltimore, they are:
10. The hotel pool you could sneak into on University Parkway
9. Fourth of July parties at
Face-Blind!'s house (I think even she is mystified about why I loved them sooo much.)
8. Regular, in-your-face madness, as documented in the
Mobtown Shank.
7. Proximity to Delaware (but not
too much proximity)
6. Normals
5. Greg's Bagels, which always had about 20 kinds of delicioso lox. I ask you: Who do I have to kill to find that again? Perhaps this is the beginning of a new quest.
4. The
Helmand
3. All the crazy-ass museums. This seems like a phenomenon that I am even less likely to find elsewhere than the 20 kinds of lox.
2. The way everything was cheap-ASS
1. And of course, all the people, even though my friends are leaving in droves.
I could also make a list of the 10 worst things, but that would be boring since it would revolve entirely around the unrelenting threat to life, limb and property, the wholesale breakdown of civilization, and the buglike qualities of crabs.
Anyway, the Leadways was really cool and may become a new regular hangout spot. Except that it was "jazz night" and the "jazz players" sounded like the Indigo Girls. But that was easy to avoid.
Mr. McFoolery insisted that everyone we know, without exception, has some bizarre story attached to them. You know who you are!
Next time, maybe I'll share the story I heard yesterday about shooting catfish in Michigan. But I have rambled self-indulgently enough.
Time Zones for Fun and Profit
Once there was this girl who had nothing to do except surf the net for a job, go to ethnic grocery stores and play with her friendly, affectionate cat. Some people asked, "Hey, want to freelance for us someday?" and she said, "Sure," figuring someday meant today, tomorrow, maybe a week from now or maybe never. She did NOT figure that days, weeks or months later, all of the people she had said "Sure" to over the previous three months would take her up on it during the exact same week.
She finally had to play the clients' time difference off one another, getting up extra early and working extra late so as to get more than one work day out of each normal day.
So really, this entry is mostly about time zones for profit. But there is a fun part, which is filling in all those billable hours on a spreadsheet and having them multiply into dollar amounts through the magic of Excel. Cayman tax shelter, here I come!
Three things that made me laugh out loud
1. My husband went out to dinner with his friend from college and her girlfriend. The waiter looked at them said, "Aren't
you a lucky man!"
2. I'm doing some work for a client in the retirement living biz. Check out the bio on its founder:
- He invented the humane animal stockcar for transportation of livestock when he was 35 years old.
- He built his namesake tower, which was the tallest building in Chicago for some time.
- And, he built the Peace Bridge between the U.S. and Canada for which he was recognized with a monument erected in his honor – the only American in Canada to have a dedicated monument.
A.M. was in the process of obtaining a patent for personal flying machines when he passed away at the age of 94. He thought every American should have his or her own flying machine for under $1,000.
3. Meteorologist on NPR: "Spring is just in people's heads. From my perspective, there's winter, there's summer, and in between there's violent unpredictability."
(Especially appropriate here. Today's forecasted high: 65, sunny. Tomorrow's: 28, snow flurries.)
Other news -- I did in fact turn down that job in Schaumburg, sadly but happily. My parents made it back from Tierra del Fuego without having to use the international funeral insurance they insisted on telling us about in some detail. We finally watched Lost in Translation last night and I can't believe how insane
this is. Don't ever buy Beltran Crianza; it was marked down from $12 to $5 at Binny's and is still a big gyp.
Today's horrible conundrum: Schaumburg, no!
This morning I got offered that job in Schaumburg. Lovely people, pleasant work environment, exactly what I want in terms of a career opportunity, good pay, benefits out the wazoo. If it were downtown, I'd take it in a minute. Instead, here was my train of thought for the entire day:
Lots of people do that commute. It sucks, but they do it. And on a regular day, it's only 45 minutes. But when it rains or snows or if it's Thursday or Friday afternoon, it's anywhere from an hour to an hour and a half. But it would take almost as much time to get downtown. But that would be on the train which is less annoying. But I would be crazy to turn this down; real Chicagoans look at me like I'm insane when I tell them I don't want to spend 2 hours a day in the car. But I'm not a real Chicagoan, and I'm not even sure if I want to be if that's what it takes. But we could move closer. But then we'd have to buy another car. But that might cost less than being unemployed for another three months.
There are even more things than these, but you get the idea. Anyway, I guess I've decided I'm going to call them tomorrow morning and turn it down. I just know I'll be miserable if I have to spend that much time in traffic.
Thanks to those of you who have endured this train of thought personally. It really helps!
Now, I just have to tell them. They're really nice so I'll feel bad. Plus I should've known when I applied. BUT -- the last but -- after that, I shall return to my life of freedom and ease, my pleasant hourly freelancing work and my quality time with the cat. It's a rough life, but that's what you get when you marry into academia.
The intersection of Lawrence and Kedzie is possibly my favorite in the entire city, so far. Its ethnic grocery stores are a rosy vision of what the world could and should be. Would that all nations could exist side by side as harmoniously as the halal butcher, the Israeli liquor store and the Latino grocery store! And as cheaply, even down to the parking meters!
The excuse for our trip was a pound of lamb. I couldn't get it at the regular Middle Eastern grocery store -- the butcher there said in Spanish that he would have to sell me a whole leg -- so I tried a butcher down the street. While she was cutting up the meat for me I saw what appeared to be a meat sculpture of a miniature pony, complete with bright eyes gazing with interest at the cuts of meat surrounding it. After a while I realized that it was a lamb carcass with nearly all the meat stripped off of it -- probably my dinner's carcass, in fact. Truth in advertising is not always a good thing.
Andie's Fruit Ranch was having a big sale on
Cockta, "the first Slovenian registered trademark among non-alcoholic beverages" which is also "CAFFEINE and PHOSPHORIC ACID FREE!" But the main event was produce. Did you know you can buy green chickpeas in the pod, kind of like edamame? I didn't. I don't know how I thought chickpeas grew, but I certainly didn't know they grew in pods. I bought some and cooked them like edamame and they tasted almost exactly the same. M-spot thought they were gross, so I guess edamame is one soy food he doesn't have to worry about missing.
The Latino store sold cactus in every conceivable form -- canned, bottled, fresh and frozen cactus, cactus rolls, cactus-sauce with cinnamon, cactus slaw . . . I exaggerate but not much. I've never eaten cactus and don't plan to unless a trained professional prepares it. Anyone know what it tastes like?
We actually didn't make it to the Korean store since we bought too much other stuff. One place had like 7 kinds of frozen kubba! (Kubba are Iraqi dumplings, pretty much the same as kibbeh.) And a whole room of Turkish tobacco which I mistook for coffee at first, because what grocery store needs two full aisles of loose tobacco?
That's probably enough rhapsodizing for now but suffice to say, this is one of the more exciting developments of my 28 years.
The wild world of freelance PR
I now have 3 freelance clients. I may just say the hell with applying for real jobs and work for myself. Especially since I just talked to my sister, who does the Schaumburg commute, and she says it's looking like an 80-minute trip today. I don't know why Fridays are always the worst.
My friend Jen is also an indie marketer now. Apparently this week she said the hell with her job and now she's starting her own agency! In addition to the usual marcom stuff it has "image consulting" so I assume if you look like a big dork you can pay Jen to tell you that and fix you up.
And I have another friend who's looking to go it alone, but I won't say who, not even obliquely and not even if you put me in a bathtub full of eels or made me work for Donald Trump.
So I guess spring is the season of telling The Man to get bent.
Assuming my sister hasn't been marooned on the highway somewhere, we're going out for stuffed pizza. I honestly thought that was some kind of malicious stereotype, but we really do eat deep dish pizza all the time here. That, and drink beer. No wonder Chicago's one of the fattest cities in America.
Courtesy of tomorrow's Boston birthday girl:
www.tonygoddess.com (select Play Kartman). Former Delawarean Tony wrote and starred in this high-energy commercial for Salisbury Kartman in Salisbury, Mass.
A Reminiscence
I love locally produced commercials. I mute everything else, but cheap-ass local commercials get my full attention. There was one in Baltimore for
Micah's, the soul food cafeteria, with the guy saying, "I've got a
weight problem. I can't
wait to get to Micah's!" There was also this very confusing one for Dead Freddie's, a bar in Parkville, that involved some sort of military attack in pursuit of 25-cent wings.
My all-time favorite one is from Delaware, I think. There's a used-car salesman pretending to talk to an animated duck. The computer, or video editor or whatever, had so little memory that the duck was about 40 dpi, pixillated as hell, and it moved at about half the speed of an animatronic Christmas elf. At the end of the commercial the duck's supposed to be closing a car door and the salesman leers endlessly at the camera until the duck's wing somehow shuts the door.
And then there's cable access. Rhode Island had the all-time best cable access, totally Wayne's World, with crazy accents, pissed-off ambush interviewees, and weekly shows that ran over and over again when there was time to fill. Anyone could have their own show; the cable company even had free lessons on how to use the equipment. Once we met this guy Little Chief who used to hang out in the Safari Club. He told us he was making a video for cable access behind the Carpet Giant, which was called either "Meet Me at the Afterhours, After Hours," or "Meet Me at the Drunk Spot," he wasn't sure which.
Our current cable company is getting fined a million dollars a day because they aren't providing enough cable access. I feel like I personally deserve some of those damages. Although last week there was some community blues show where the guest kept calling the host "Stinky-Butt" until finally the host retaliated with "Poo Poo Butt."
And happy birthday to *today's* birthday girl,
Ianqui!
Today I had to call a couple of reporters for a contract project I'm doing. One said, "I don't cover that beat. You need to talk to Ricky." I asked when she stopped covering it and she said, "Well, actually I do cover it." Pause. "But I don't find this interesting."
Ricky told me that even though his publication is weekly, he has a daily deadline. "It's good, because it keeps me disciplined," he said. "It is always good to have discipline in your life, wouldn't you say?" I agreed, and he added, "After all, if the sun rose in the west, you wouldn't be happy, would you?" Again, I could find no argument. He said he'd be happy to interview my client, but no earlier than 10. I said, "You're not a morning person, huh," and he said, "Oh I am, I get up at 5:30 every day. But I move quickly without hurrying. I always move quickly without hurrying."
I also got another contract job, coincidentally enough. That one is for a think tank that deals with alcohol abuse. I visited a related site,
www.alcoholscreening.org, where you can test yourself for problem drinking. In theory you can get a green, yellow, or red light at the end of the test. In practice . . . well, I'll be interested to hear if anyone I know actually manages to get a green light.
Schaumburg, ho!
(whine, whine, whine)
Yesterday I had the interview in Schaumburg. It took me an hour and a half to get home. I was ready to call them up and cry, "Please remove me from your mailing list!" But the guy I interviewed with beat me to the punch. He called today at 9:15 to invite me in for a second interview and offered me flex time. With flex time it's under an hour each way. Not that horrible, I guess, but definitely not my vision of city living.
You commute, and it becomes this major deal if your car breaks down, or if you get sick or drunk, or if some tractor trailer carrying heating oil turns over. Many, many times, stupid shit like that would happen in Baltimore, and I could just walk home and laugh at the people stuck in their cars while a
10,000-degree fire raged underground or whatever. It also came in handy when my bus rear-ended a garbage truck. There was also about an 18-month period of "the wheels on the bus go round and round, falling down, better hit the ground" and the passengers were never hurt but drivers and pedestrians sure got the tar blown out of them and at least two cars were totaled. Bus wheels weigh about 200 pounds and tend to fly off in pairs.
But maybe these things are not so dangerous here.
The dialect quiz
I took this quiz and got a 58%, "Barely Dixie." I might've scored lower if I'd given in to the temptation to give Rhode Island answers.
The job search sloweth
No word about the alleged 4th interview from that agency, and no words from anyone else, either. It got so bad that I applied for a job in Schaumburg, the rootin'est, tootin'est, gun-totin'est suburb in the West. Or so I heard; but it looks like Silver Spring to me. Its motto is "Progress Through Thoughtful Planning" and it is home to the largest IKEA outside of Sweden.
My friend Connie's friend had so many unsuccessful job interviews that at her 20th interview, she presented the interviewer with a box of home-baked cookies in order to recognize him for his accomplishment.
There was an ad in the paper that read: PUBLIC RELATIONS - Great pay & you meet lots of Celebrities. Must have own vehicle. Long hours. For info 775-338-2021. Area code is 775.
I called it up just to see what the hell it was. I got this guy on an answering machine talking about how he needs someone to be his book keeping assistant, working long hours at home on their computer. Yes, lots of computer work. Occasionally you may have to drive out to his Personal Residence. But mostly computer work. The pay is $7.50 an hour and (dramatic pause) there's room for advancement, once he's decided the person's going to work out, etc. If you want the job, all you have to do is interview on March 3. If not, don't leave a message.
I'm busy on March 3, so I guess I missed my chance vis-a-vis the computer work. I wish he'd talked more about the Celebrities.
