Prairie Landing
Grumples returns to Chi-town
We went to B-more for a couple of graduation parties -- not the actual graduations since I feel, and I think my friends the new Ph.D.s understand, that I've been to more than my fair share of Hotpants U. commencement ceremonies -- and damn, we had a good time. The cicadas were chirping, buzzing, and generally sounding like an alien invasion force. I ate pizza with my ex-coworkers, then went to Baltimore's trendiest and most mosquito-friendly new outdoor bar with
Chesapeake Explorer. I can't believe the place is next to the Hanover Street Bridge! I mean, that place was 100% scaryville back in my day. And it's on Insulator Drive, which is where I went to a
rave once. Baltimore is in some ways the greatest place to have a rave, because there are just acres and acres of unused, unloved, industry-zoned gorgeous waterfront property waiting to be danced upon. All of them convenient to I-95. I don't think people rave anymore, though, except maybe in
Raleighwood.
After all that, we drove north for a kitchen destruction party. I had some misgivings but no one was injured, which is an improvement over the parties that are strictly drinking-centered. Must've been the safety glasses.
But then I got home and came down with this awful fever and cough, and it was Monday so I had to get up early and work and go to school and all that business, bleah. I think four straight weeks of houseguests, work, class and traveling must've opened the drawbridge for those airplane germs.
Luckily this weekend promises to be peaceful. Also luckily (more like conveniently, since it sure isn't lucky for her) my biggest client is even sicker than me and has zero interest in whipping things along until next Tuesday. I still can't lay low but at least I'll make it to the weekend.
Grab a skillet, the cicadas are coming!
Good thing I'm going to Baltimore tomorrow! I don't know if the Chicago crop will be enough to
make a meal.
Baseball and education don't mix
I have a new class, this one in marketing research. (NOT "market research," though I haven't had a chance to find out what the difference is. Funny thing when you never do the assigned reading -- you try not to ask any genuinely relevant questions.) Today I tried to get to class on time but there was a Cubs game and getting to the Addison L stop was like swimming upstream to mate. The crowds were impenetrable -- "penetrable," heh-heh -- vendors and bums and tour buses were everywhere, and some stadium official actually yelled at me for heading toward the exit not the entrance. I had to stop and explain that I was heading for neither, and unbelievable though it might be, Wrigley Stadium was just on my way to the L.
Finally I get to the platform and not a soul is there except for one drunk guy who's screaming into the world's most annoying cell phone about how he came all the way to Wrigleyville to get tickets and they wouldn't give them to him because he paid for them with two different credit cards and . . . anyway, I heard the story six or seven times and that's all you really need to know.
Cell Phone Dude sits right next to me, even though the train has vomited its contents at the Wrigley Field stop and there are plenty of other seats. The phone was annoying because its ring was a snippet of some especially humorous phone message he had downloaded or recorded or something.
Meanwhile, I'm feeling like the world's biggest nerd because I'm huddled in a corner of a train seat eating a Lean Pocket with about 20 paper towels, drinking water, and reading "Great Expectations," all while clutching a grubby tote bag whose front promotes a 2002 phonology conference. And all while heading toward a marketing research class.
Luckily, within 5 minutes I realized I'd gotten on the wrong train -- something that is normally impossible, but on certain select game days the Purple Line stops at Addison. So Cell Phone Guy and I were both happy. And I wasn't even late to class. Sometimes I amaze myself.
When you've lost George F. Will . . .
His latest column is satisfyingly scathing.
Happy Birthday Kitty!
The cat turned 8 yesterday. We guessed his birthday was about the same time as my college graduation. So that means I graduated from college 8 years ago.
Judas Priest! (as my husband's aunt would say)
Cheese-n-Rice!! (as one of my Marshalls coworkers used to say)
Revenge of the Prairie
Apparently I wasn't the only one who thought it was a cool name:
www.prairielanding.com (Courtesy of Scott O'Sheffield's)
Alert reader TLC sent the following email regarding my former hometown:
Sent: Tuesday, May 11, 2004 4:00 PM
Subject: Re: Providence, HL
[. . .]
> Can you explain to me this whole
> unbutton-shirt-with-chest-hair-and-gold-chain thing to me?
I may not be able to explain the why, but a number of hows spring to mind:
1. There were parts of my company's offices where no music could be played unless it was Sinatra.
2. We once had our company retreat at the
dog track.
3. The ex-mayor, "Buddy" Cianci, is in federal prison. He is widely regarded as a hero.
4. In many circles, strip clubs are considered a reasonable place to meet up with friends or colleagues.
5. I once wrote a campaign newsletter for a state official named Paulie.
6. My friend dated an ex-wrestler who was friends with Mobsters back in the day. One time they caught up with a guy they were after and for reasons I don't recall, dangled him headfirst off the Point Street Bridge. A cop saw them, sauntered over, and said, "Boys, boys, boys. You were gonna drop that guy. Do you know how much
paperwork that woulda caused me?"
7. I met a lot of people who were "friends with" members of the Mob, and never met anyone who was actually in it.
8.
Misquamicut Beach
There's probably more, and I invite others familiar with that excellent town to chime in.
A most dangerous website!
For demographic stats nerds such as myself and several of my readers (
you know who you are):
http://www.epodunk.com/
Today's feature is Best Places if You're 50 and Gay. Not surprisingly, everyone's favorite Delaware beach town is on here.
(And just kidding, Ianqui, I know of several people who could get sucked into this.)
Another funny trade magazine
Billing World, which describes itself thusly:
". . . the most widely read magazine by the back-office software decision makers in the telecommunications industry. . . thought-provoking features in the areas of billing, OSS, systems integration, cost management, and CRM.
Our editorial team is dedicated to breaking down the latest technology hype and examining the facts. . . In each issue, we address hard questions such as, can today's software products support service providers needs? Can money be made using the newest high-tech endeavors? . . . And as we all know by now…
If you can't order it, you can't provision it!
If you can't provision it, you can't bill for it!
And if you can't bill for it, it's just a hobby!"
(Damn, I never thought of it that way!)
There are some trade pubs whose long-toothed editorial staff seem to live amidst the minutiae of their trade like goldfish in a tank. There are others where I look at their bylines and say, "Pity the 22-year-old journalism grads." I'm guessing this one combines the two.
But since I'm always making fun of trade magazines, and since I know at least one of my regulars writes for a trade 'zine (barf bag technology, anyone?), I will offer the following reality check:
If it's laughable to PUBLISH obscure trade publications, what does that say about the flacks who read their websites, comb the "About" section, and hound the editors for one precious speck of time in the hope of getting an INTERVIEW with them?
My doctor put me on these weird antidepressants to see if they would help my migraines. They give me tedious dreams. For example:
- Bruised, slowly decomposing pomegranates.
- Lying on the beach at Lake Michigan, which is bad enough, and it's a cloudy day and the sand is cold and lumpy.
- Driving backwards for 3 hours, eventually losing my concentration, and causing a fender-bender.
- Receiving a door-to-door sales call that never ends from a woman who sounds like Fran Drescher.
I swear I am not making this up. I mean, I
am making this up, but not while I'm awake. How big of a problem is it to always be bored while you're asleep?
On the plus side, I never seem to get sleepy during the day.
