Prairie Landing
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
Thank you, wise and comforting commenters, since I felt pretty shitty when Colliculus got a forwarded reply saying, "If you ever want to get together, you know where to find me" and signed "Regards," indicating the message had been clearly understood.
If nothing else, now you know that if I want to avoid you, there sure as hell won't be any guessing about it.
On a cheerier subject, Ianqui got me to thinking about the many magazines I hate. These include Town & Country, Shape and its evil clones, and New York. Also the Saturday Evening Post -- did you know this publication still exists? Now it is primarily a vehicle for shilling pharmaceuticals to oldsters who get excited about the nostalgia, I guess. The editor is this stick-in-the-mud from Godknowswhere, Indiana, who talks so slow I almost wish he'd hang up on me.
A surprisingly fine piece of journalism is AARP The Magazine. I'm not saying you should trade in Vanity Fair or the New Yorker for it, but considering the source it's quite good. It somehow manages to address topics of interest to my parents' generation without invoking fall holiday decorations, gross medical creams, nostalgia or veiled bigotry. I'll admit, I got sucked in by some of the articles.
If nothing else, now you know that if I want to avoid you, there sure as hell won't be any guessing about it.
On a cheerier subject, Ianqui got me to thinking about the many magazines I hate. These include Town & Country, Shape and its evil clones, and New York. Also the Saturday Evening Post -- did you know this publication still exists? Now it is primarily a vehicle for shilling pharmaceuticals to oldsters who get excited about the nostalgia, I guess. The editor is this stick-in-the-mud from Godknowswhere, Indiana, who talks so slow I almost wish he'd hang up on me.
A surprisingly fine piece of journalism is AARP The Magazine. I'm not saying you should trade in Vanity Fair or the New Yorker for it, but considering the source it's quite good. It somehow manages to address topics of interest to my parents' generation without invoking fall holiday decorations, gross medical creams, nostalgia or veiled bigotry. I'll admit, I got sucked in by some of the articles.
Sunday, September 26, 2004
I'm a big-ol' bitch
This girl I was friends with years ago, who I knew moved here but who didn't know I moved here, has found me. I knew that would happen eventually, but just assumed it would be on the street or in a bar or something and I would claim I was in town visiting my sister. But the Web tells all: she was in B-more and decided to look me up and in the process discovered Colliculus's very local place of employment.
It's not like she did anything to merit my avoidance. But a few years ago she came to visit and I realized pretty clearly, "This isn't what I'm looking for" and a few occasional experiences over the years have confirmed that opinion. Further, my money's on the impossibility of having dinner and then sliding on into casual acquaintanceship, which would be OK. I fear there's a good chance we'd have to mount a long-term campaign of call-screening sprinkled with occasional excuses, all of which would amount to the same rejection and be more painful for us.
So instead, when she emailed Colliculus, saying how exciting it was and inviting us to dinner, I advised C. to reply, "Wow, that's funny that you live here too. Glad to hear you're doing well. Thanks for the invite, but we're really busy with work right now." End of message.
Which he did, and which is so damn cold I feel kind of queasy about it. But I couldn't think of anything better to do. Does anyone else have any thoughts on this?
This girl I was friends with years ago, who I knew moved here but who didn't know I moved here, has found me. I knew that would happen eventually, but just assumed it would be on the street or in a bar or something and I would claim I was in town visiting my sister. But the Web tells all: she was in B-more and decided to look me up and in the process discovered Colliculus's very local place of employment.
It's not like she did anything to merit my avoidance. But a few years ago she came to visit and I realized pretty clearly, "This isn't what I'm looking for" and a few occasional experiences over the years have confirmed that opinion. Further, my money's on the impossibility of having dinner and then sliding on into casual acquaintanceship, which would be OK. I fear there's a good chance we'd have to mount a long-term campaign of call-screening sprinkled with occasional excuses, all of which would amount to the same rejection and be more painful for us.
So instead, when she emailed Colliculus, saying how exciting it was and inviting us to dinner, I advised C. to reply, "Wow, that's funny that you live here too. Glad to hear you're doing well. Thanks for the invite, but we're really busy with work right now." End of message.
Which he did, and which is so damn cold I feel kind of queasy about it. But I couldn't think of anything better to do. Does anyone else have any thoughts on this?
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
2 things that made me laugh
1. This news brief from USA Today has something bizarre in nearly every sentence!
Three men burglarized the home of Jack Whittaker, winner of the biggest undivided lottery jackpot in U.S. history, as a friend of Whittaker's family lay dead inside, police in Winfield, W.Va., said. Whittaker was not home. The suspects were caught on a security camera, Chief Deputy John Dailey said. The death of Jesse Tribble, 18, may have been drug-related but was not related to the burglary last week, Dailey said. The suspects knew Tribble and reported his death, Dailey said. Whittaker hit a $314.9 million Powerball jackpot on Christmas Day 2002. Since then, his vehicle, business and home have been broken into repeatedly. Last year, a strip club manager and his girlfriend were charged with drugging Whittaker and stealing more than $500,000. The money was recovered.
2. One of my minions (I have 2 now) was late to work today because of some sort of stupidity on the Metra, the suburban commuter rail. When she finally got off, they handed out late slips for all the passengers to give their bosses. (Disappointingly, she did not present me with hers.)
The Metra, which at 70 mph is easily the fastest-moving thing in Chicagoland at rush hour, is a popular way to commit suicide and hence a frequent cause of delays. They even started running commercials telling people not to do it. The ads don't say, "You have so much to live for," or anything specifically anti-suicide like that. They just implore people not to step in front of trains (for whatever reason). I wonder if they pretested these commercials with focus groups?
Three men burglarized the home of Jack Whittaker, winner of the biggest undivided lottery jackpot in U.S. history, as a friend of Whittaker's family lay dead inside, police in Winfield, W.Va., said. Whittaker was not home. The suspects were caught on a security camera, Chief Deputy John Dailey said. The death of Jesse Tribble, 18, may have been drug-related but was not related to the burglary last week, Dailey said. The suspects knew Tribble and reported his death, Dailey said. Whittaker hit a $314.9 million Powerball jackpot on Christmas Day 2002. Since then, his vehicle, business and home have been broken into repeatedly. Last year, a strip club manager and his girlfriend were charged with drugging Whittaker and stealing more than $500,000. The money was recovered.
2. One of my minions (I have 2 now) was late to work today because of some sort of stupidity on the Metra, the suburban commuter rail. When she finally got off, they handed out late slips for all the passengers to give their bosses. (Disappointingly, she did not present me with hers.)
The Metra, which at 70 mph is easily the fastest-moving thing in Chicagoland at rush hour, is a popular way to commit suicide and hence a frequent cause of delays. They even started running commercials telling people not to do it. The ads don't say, "You have so much to live for," or anything specifically anti-suicide like that. They just implore people not to step in front of trains (for whatever reason). I wonder if they pretested these commercials with focus groups?
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
The weather has been beautiful for what seems like weeks and weeks. I went to the beach for the first time here, two weekends ago. I read in the paper that by September 13, there had already been more 80-degree days than in all of August! Apparently it has something to do with the hurricanes. Nyah, nyah, East Coast -- we don't need your "springtime" and your "winters that last less than 8 months."
Yesterday I got caught in the elevator with Mr. E., the guy who founded my company a million zillion years ago. I mean literally, like 50 years. They have a big birthday party for him every year in the auditorium. He asked me what accounts I worked on and when I told him about the epilepsy drug, he creakily exclaimed, "L----! That's got another use besides epilepsy, though, doesn't it?" I started to say yes but I guess he was just catching his breath, because he went on, with enthusiasm, "That's one of the things they used to give my wife for bipolar disorder! I don't think she takes it anymore, though." I said something lame about how that was bad for our client but good for her, because of the nausea, headaches, etc. We got to the ground before I had to talk about the latest data on oral contraceptive interactions.
My coworker told me Mr. E's wife came in the office the other day to admire our floor, which has been painted top to bottom to resemble the clubhouse of some extremely worshipful Baltimore Ravens fans. For no discernible reason she plopped down in my coworker's cube, tilted her head back, and went all glassy-eyed. Meanwhile, my coworker had her big, heavy, precarious purse balanced on a hook just so, right over Mrs. E's forehead. So my coworker was facing two possible death scenarios for the boss's wife, in her cube. Luckily five or six minutes passed without incident, other than Mr. E figuring out that nobody liked the paint job.
Yesterday I got caught in the elevator with Mr. E., the guy who founded my company a million zillion years ago. I mean literally, like 50 years. They have a big birthday party for him every year in the auditorium. He asked me what accounts I worked on and when I told him about the epilepsy drug, he creakily exclaimed, "L----! That's got another use besides epilepsy, though, doesn't it?" I started to say yes but I guess he was just catching his breath, because he went on, with enthusiasm, "That's one of the things they used to give my wife for bipolar disorder! I don't think she takes it anymore, though." I said something lame about how that was bad for our client but good for her, because of the nausea, headaches, etc. We got to the ground before I had to talk about the latest data on oral contraceptive interactions.
My coworker told me Mr. E's wife came in the office the other day to admire our floor, which has been painted top to bottom to resemble the clubhouse of some extremely worshipful Baltimore Ravens fans. For no discernible reason she plopped down in my coworker's cube, tilted her head back, and went all glassy-eyed. Meanwhile, my coworker had her big, heavy, precarious purse balanced on a hook just so, right over Mrs. E's forehead. So my coworker was facing two possible death scenarios for the boss's wife, in her cube. Luckily five or six minutes passed without incident, other than Mr. E figuring out that nobody liked the paint job.
Monday, September 20, 2004
Don't Even Tell Me You Told Me So
When I moved to Wrigleyville I didn't really care about baseball. Now I passionately hate it. The season goes on SO FUCKING LONG and so relentlessly, many times a week for months and months and months.
Every time there's a home game I get yelled at, leered at, thrown peanuts at, for not being part of the mob. (OK, I exaggerate, the guy was throwing peanuts at everyone.) I walk home from work and drunken assholes say things like, "You look sad. Why are you so sad?" I stretch before jogging and hear, "Hey, what's wrong with your leg?" After six months of this bullshit I was ready to elbow some guy in the throat just for saying "Hey girl, what's happening" the other day. This doesn't even address the Cubs-related driving stupidity, Cubs-driving-stupidity-related homicide, and official officiousness chronicled previously in these pages.
Need I even mention that these incidents always involve men, and never happen to Colliculus?
Every time there's an away game, which is all the other days, my neighbor gets out his bullhorn and alternates between turning on a siren and stating, "GO CUBBIES."
Now that THAT's out of my system. . . the Trib had a front-page story about how the city's cracking down on truancy. The woman they picked as their poster parent is named Patricia Samar. Near the end, the story says:
Samar lives with Ronnie "Woo Woo" Wickers, best known as a prominent Cubs fan.
Every time there's a home game I get yelled at, leered at, thrown peanuts at, for not being part of the mob. (OK, I exaggerate, the guy was throwing peanuts at everyone.) I walk home from work and drunken assholes say things like, "You look sad. Why are you so sad?" I stretch before jogging and hear, "Hey, what's wrong with your leg?" After six months of this bullshit I was ready to elbow some guy in the throat just for saying "Hey girl, what's happening" the other day. This doesn't even address the Cubs-related driving stupidity, Cubs-driving-stupidity-related homicide, and official officiousness chronicled previously in these pages.
Need I even mention that these incidents always involve men, and never happen to Colliculus?
Every time there's an away game, which is all the other days, my neighbor gets out his bullhorn and alternates between turning on a siren and stating, "GO CUBBIES."
Now that THAT's out of my system. . . the Trib had a front-page story about how the city's cracking down on truancy. The woman they picked as their poster parent is named Patricia Samar. Near the end, the story says:
Samar lives with Ronnie "Woo Woo" Wickers, best known as a prominent Cubs fan.
Saturday, September 18, 2004
Since Colliculus and his camera are away, I must share in text form this great sign:
SMOKED
Sausages - Meats
ROASTED
Duck - Piglets
GIFT
Liquors - Baskets
I have a book and a movie recommendation today: Anna Karenina and Napoleon Dynamite.
Also a book and a movie un-recommendation: The Mill on the Floss (barfo) and Bubba Ho-Tep (Jesus Christ, who gave those people money to make an 88-minute film?).
Today I went to the library en route to take care of Mingus, TCB's kitty. I was trying to find What's the Matter with Kansas and the Lincoln Square branch was the only one out of 30-odd copies at 20-odd Chicago Public Library branches that still had a copy. I guess it figures all the earnest liberals who would read that book are the same people who have library cards.
Of course, when the library says it only has one copy left, what that really means is that the copy is missing but nobody will admit it. So I put a hold on it, because I really, really want to know why people vote for Bush! I just can't think of any good reason, which bothers me, because obviously something like half the country disagrees and they can't all be CEOs. I understand it so little that to me, 2008 actually looks like a worse shot for the Democrats because then it might actually matter that they get a decent candidate.
That said, I'm off to eat some tasty pupusas.
SMOKED
Sausages - Meats
ROASTED
Duck - Piglets
GIFT
Liquors - Baskets
I have a book and a movie recommendation today: Anna Karenina and Napoleon Dynamite.
Also a book and a movie un-recommendation: The Mill on the Floss (barfo) and Bubba Ho-Tep (Jesus Christ, who gave those people money to make an 88-minute film?).
Today I went to the library en route to take care of Mingus, TCB's kitty. I was trying to find What's the Matter with Kansas and the Lincoln Square branch was the only one out of 30-odd copies at 20-odd Chicago Public Library branches that still had a copy. I guess it figures all the earnest liberals who would read that book are the same people who have library cards.
Of course, when the library says it only has one copy left, what that really means is that the copy is missing but nobody will admit it. So I put a hold on it, because I really, really want to know why people vote for Bush! I just can't think of any good reason, which bothers me, because obviously something like half the country disagrees and they can't all be CEOs. I understand it so little that to me, 2008 actually looks like a worse shot for the Democrats because then it might actually matter that they get a decent candidate.
That said, I'm off to eat some tasty pupusas.
Monday, September 06, 2004
Return of the East Coast travelers
This weekend my cuz and uncle came to visit, as did Fish while moving the lovely Mad Dog into her new Andersonville accommodations. Sigh . . . if only everyone would move to Chi-town!
Thursday at work there was a brainstorm session on the other side of my cube wall. Time for some Great Moments in Healthcare Marketing Lewdness!
J: The challenge with this product is that you have to apply it 30 minutes beforehand. So their strategy is to get people to make it a part of foreplay and get creative in applying it.
[Inaudible response]
J: Go down on it? I don't know if that works or not. What are some story angles that would work for magazines like Esquire that men 30 and up read?
I personally don't work on that account. For the account I do work on, one of my coworkers drafted a pitch email about a form of arthritis that tends to hit men in their early 20s. The subject line was: When Being Stiff in the Bedroom Isn't a Good Thing.
Thursday at work there was a brainstorm session on the other side of my cube wall. Time for some Great Moments in Healthcare Marketing Lewdness!
J: The challenge with this product is that you have to apply it 30 minutes beforehand. So their strategy is to get people to make it a part of foreplay and get creative in applying it.
[Inaudible response]
J: Go down on it? I don't know if that works or not. What are some story angles that would work for magazines like Esquire that men 30 and up read?
I personally don't work on that account. For the account I do work on, one of my coworkers drafted a pitch email about a form of arthritis that tends to hit men in their early 20s. The subject line was: When Being Stiff in the Bedroom Isn't a Good Thing.
