Feelin' Minnesotan

In an indetectable move from the cyberstandpoint, I winged my way early yesterday from beloved Chi-Town to the frigid ice sheet of Apple Valley, MN for the upcoming Feast 'o Poultry.

How my trip is going, by the numbers, thus far:

Degrees of warmth lost: 25 (It was around 50 in Chicago, on landing it was a 'brisk' 28....25 with windchill!)

Bowls of Mixed Nuts De-Cashewed: 2.5 (To a reverberating "Who keeps plucking out the just cashews!")

Bras shopped for and fit on Maternal Unit: 3 (While everyone else was out flipping burgers during their formative years, I added the resume building "J.C. Penney Bra-Fitter" to my repertoire. One cannot imagine the major brownie points accrued from a woman finally wearing comfortable support garments!)

Puppy Pee Runs : 3 plus a walk (My parents, in a moment of brilliance, let me and my brother of the hook by getting 'Grand-Puppies.' They get all the joys of spoiling small squirmy creatures and their 'natural' children are free from the nagging "When are you settling down?" question.)

Number of times I've said "Ya" "Ya, Shure" or "U Bet": 4 (These are only occurrences I'm aware of....it'll be in the teens/twenties before departure ya'know then!)

Today on Deep Sea Cooking with Dave Cousteau...

My good friend Dave gave me a jingle last night as expected. In his quest to not randomly fall over of a massive MI, a ‘sprucing’ up of his diet has begun. And although he can factor PI, yank square roots out of thin air and figure out how many religions there would theoretically be in the Milky Way...well, this ‘cooking’ thing is boldly going where he has not ventured often before.

Apparently I’ve accrued quite a culinary database over the years and while I am not at Julia Child level, I can certainly braise, clarify and deglaze my way around most recipes. Armed with this knowledge, I assisted in deciphering:

1. The difference between a Dutch Oven and a Stock Pot
2. The difference between a Colander and a Strainer
3. Why you should always wash rice
4. How to improvise a double boiler to steam veggies

(It probably also helped that in the DBC (Days before Cable), I had a habit of napping on Sunday afternoons with the PBS cooking lineup turned on.)

Interesting tidbit, and perhaps solution to all this was found when scrolling for a good online glossary to send him: Carrier, the native language of a large part of the central interior of British Columbia, has only two cooking terms:

Onliz: to cook by immersion in hot liquid or steam. (blanch, boil, steam)
Otes: to cook dry, without liquid. (fry, bake, roast)

As this plays nice along with his urging to move to Canada, may I present this as an alternative to learning random French culinary phrases and loading up on weird utensils and cupboard clogging cookware?

CTA Customer Service: "Oxymorons on Parade"

A personal thank-you to the CTA corporate for living up to the reputation of being the bumbling, money-grubbing imbeciles the press has made you out to be.

This morning as usual, I swooshed into the Irving Park Brown Line station and briskly swiped my CTA "Plus Card" against the turnstile...it didn't work. Patiently, I pressed it against the bright disk reader again. Nada. Still calm, I stepped over to give the other machine a try. *SNAP* and my "Hey, I'll never be a nickel short again hero" broke into 2 neat halves.

Bewildered, I stared quizzically at the station manager looking on from afar. He nicely explained to me "Oh, this happens all the time...those cards are plastic and once the cold hits they snap like twigs." I was then handed a card to call for a replacement card and let through the gate gratis.

This was to be the nicest part of my encounter.

Upon calling the number, I weaved my way through 55 different recorded steps "If you know the name of the station on fire, please PRESS 10" and then stewed on hold for 20min. As last a "customer service" representative answered my call. They would replace and send me a new card, but at cost to me. I tried to reason with her "Look, your product is defective. Any other company would send me a replacement and apologize profusely for my inconvenience."

She finally offered to provide me an address I could send (again, at cost to me) my card to have it independently tested to determine if the crack was the CTA's fault or mine. If it was their fault, I could then fill out a form to have them reimburse me for the $5 cost of the card.

It's a tossup as to which concept I've having more difficulty grasping:
A. You have to go through 10 steps to report a station on fire.
B. There is an guy out there with nothing better to do than run tests on plastic train cards.

Gigiantic, Gigiantic, Gigiantic: A Big, Big, Review

On Saturday night, I added the quintessential jewel missing from my concert repertoire; I heard the Pixies play live, in mighty Chi-Town.

This Boston supergroup broke up in 1992, abandoning its seat at the apex of alt-rock bands. Their presence was so impactful that Rolling Stone went so far as to anoint 1988's Surfer Rosa and 1989's Doolittle as two of the greatest 500 albums of all time.

The buzz of excitement had surrounded this event for months, I had purchased tickets back in April and had been holding back my anticipation. When I showed up at the venue shortly after 7p.m., a massive line of people had already formed waiting patiently to be allowed in.

*Interesting Side Note: There was no line for the Women’s Security check, while our hapless male counterparts were forced to cool their heels in a very long queue.

Getting in to the concert was an event in itself. Security was ridiculous, to say the least. Some of the excessive requests included: all hats removed to be checked (never go to a concert with a bad hair day fellas ;) my keys were also removed and… fondled!?! When will I have to ‘check’ my keys at the door to see some music? Or drop them off at chum’s house ‘cuz they can’t enter the venue? Sheesh! To this point, one of our party was sent back to her car as there was a WMD on her keyring….the harmful threat? A mini-protractor.

On to the show:
From the opening notes to the final encore, the fabulous foursome was back in full-force. The sound was unfortunately, erratic at best. This tribute to classic alt-rock was staged at The Aragon, and while it features a vintage Moroccan backdrop it also morphs into a echoing cavern when an amp is plugged in.

I had been warned of this, but it was THE PIXIES and I was not going to miss another opportunity to see them. The cavern effect was actually beneficial on ‘Planet of Sound’ allowing the wave of dissonance to envelope and surround one…quite a neato trick. Mysteriously, a few of the songs turned out sparkling clear; Gigantic, Wave of Mutilation, Debaser and U-Mass. Then, not more than minutes later, others sounded muddy and hollow– Kim’s vocals were completely drowned out on ‘Hey’ and ‘Velouria.’

Being as The Pixies projected a laid-back persona on the plain, smoky stage, speaking little to fans, and concentrating on the music while the sound guy was bouncing around like a jackrabbit on Meth trying vainly to woo an apathetic girl….Well, it does seem a tad obvious where the broken link might have been.

But that didn't seem to matter to the frenzied crowd, who continually clapped, cheered, and moshed the night away – Something to note: the mean age of the crowd was around 34, and attired in GAP….very interesting amalgamation indeed!

My favorite visual of the evening was produced during ‘Monkey Gone to Heaven”: A backlit Black, screaming at the top of his lungs, "If the Devil is six, then God is seven!", was perfectly framed by the fans upraised arms holding five fingers, then six and seven….it made me reminisce for this famous commercial.

It’s true you can never go back, but despite the various tribulations encountered, I walked out after the 90min set ears ringing and thrilled to have finally experienced this colossal band of my youth.

It's a Mad, Mad, Mad World

An old high school chum just sent me a link to this story.

I'd like to take a moment to express how very horrified I am to be an Eagle alumnus. In my hayday circa '89-'92 (sheesh, I feel old) the issues revolved around additional secured parking for the students' BMW's and if the Homecoming bonfire would be big enough to illuminate the cheerleaders' finale.

While it seems as though this suburb of materialistic fluff has at long last found a conscience, it has also managed to screw it up. By bulldozing over the keys of respect and tolerance, these thugs are no better than the person with whose bigoted views they disagreed.

Can't we all just get along?

So, this duck walks into a bar...

It's Friday! For the time being my clients have been satiated, my sweetie is running amok in Sin City and this girl is taking a much deserved break. So, here's some levity courtesy of Logan's Dave.

1. YOUR PORN STAR NAME: (Name of 1st pet / Street you live on:
Beatrice Belle Plaine

2. YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME: (Name of your favorite snack food/Grandfather's first name): Reese Harry

3. YOUR FASHION DESIGNER NAME: (First word you see on your left / Favorite resturaunt) Viscosity Kabuki III

4. EXOTIC FOREIGNER ALIAS: (Favorite Spice / Last Foreign Vacation Spot): Cardamom Tijuana

5. SOCIALITE ALIAS: (Silliest Childhood Nickname / Town Where You First Partied): Kibblebutt Bloomington

6. "FLY Boy" ALIAS (a la J. Lo): (First Initial / First Two or Three Letters of your Last Name): J. Nel

7. ICON ALIAS: (Something Sweet Within Sight / Any Liquid in Your Kitchen): Twizzler Pomogranate

8. DETECTIVE ALIAS: (Favorite Baby Animal / Where You Went to High School): Bunny Apple Valley

9. BARFLY ALIAS: (Last Snack Food You Ate / Your Favorite Alcoholic Drink): Peanuts Seabreeze

10. SOAP OPERA ALIAS: (Middle Name / Street Where You First Lived): Ruth Balmoral

11. ROCK STAR ALIAS: (Favorite Candy /Last Name Of Favorite musician ): M&M Strummer

It is So Choice

Why, some might ask did I spend my evening last night hobnobbing with folks of a financial bent? Because it was wrapped in the warm tartan of Glenlivet tasting of course!

While I do not come naturally to the imbibing of scotch, over the years I have developed quite an affection for this beverage of barley! (Special props to D for turning me into quite the elitist who will turn up her nose at anything less than single-malt!).

This particular tasting included:
12 Year (I've had often, quite nice)
12 Year French Oak Finish (Interesting, the way shoes on a cat are)
18 & 21 Year (First time with both, and in a word YUM!)

As a bonus upon departure, we were all gifted with goodie bags to warmly stumble into the night with. My souvenirs include: A Clan Glenlivet tartan scarf, mini-bottles of 12yr...I also swiped one of the engraved pens. What? They hand out clothes and booze with ease, a pen should be a given!

The Glenlivet: If you have the means, I highly recommend picking some up.

Hurricane Jen

Cloudy, Windy, Torrential Downpours Likely
Feels Like 92°F, High Pressure, Low Sleep

UV Index:
1 Low, No chance of overexposure or seeing daylight

Humidity:
98% Very hazy

Visibility:
1/2 mile, Big Picture not available at present

Corporate Pressure:
96.84 inches and rising to near panic levels

Private Pressure:
26.84 inches and falling to a relaxing level

Wind:
From the BI (Business Index) at 190mph gusting to 220 mph

Storm Surge:
22-25 feet above Mean Tide before receding can begin to occur

My country 'tis of thee

I know I'm a couple weeks early on this, but the pulse of the blogosphere is right; moping around for 1458 days is no way to live. So, here are some things I'm still thankful for:

1. To be alive in the bottom half of the first inning of a great technological age.

2. To have known relatively little of want or need. (Only struggled for warmth was when I was camping, hungered for food when on a diet, and felt oppressed when my parents would ground me for indulging in too much freedom.)

3. For great friends: H, D, C, J and others too numerous to mention who have been, are and will be my partners in crime, voices of reason, & general tributes to what amazing creatures human beings can be.

4. MK who is making the journey into my 30s a thrilling, non-cynical adventure in gender relations.

5. Opportunities (even ones I have missed or failed to take advantage of...at least they were available to me).

The current administration would probably like nothing better than to think that the morale of the Moderates and Left has been stricken with such a sense of hopelessness and apathy that we will now all line up for our Conservative-obotomies and allow them to drag us back into the medieval
dark ages. As the saying goes, whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and America isn't dead yet.

This incredible experiment in liberty and free-will has extracted itself from under the iron fist of a king, willed itself back together through civil war and is the model to which many developing countries hope to evolve. The "Flee or Fight" reaction is instinctive, and though fleeing is the path of least resistance, it's not what this country was founded on. I for one will invoke my right of civil disobidiance and be the proverbial irritating tick on the ass of the religious right for the next 4 years.

Oops, He Thinks He Did it Again!

And I think I'm gonna hurl, AGAIN!
Now to start practicing *ahem* *tra-la-la*

THE CANADIAN NATIONAL ANTHEM
Oh, Canada,
Our home and native land!
True patriot love in all thy sons command

or
THE MEXICAN NATIONAL ANTHEM
Mexicanos, al grito de guerra
El acero aprestad y el bridon;
y retiemble en sus centros la tierra

or

THE IRISH NATIONAL ANTHEM
Sinne Fianna Fáil,
Atá Fá gheall ag Éirinn,
Buidhean dár sluagh tar rúinn do ráinig chughainn

and even this doesn't sound to shabby,

THE HONG KONG NATIONAL ANTHEM
Arise, ye who refuse to be slaves!
With our flesh and blood, let us build our new Great Wall!

Silly Caucasian girl likes to play with Samurai swords.

Now wiggle your big toe and get out to vote!

Death Cab For Cutie

Last night marked the 4th most deadly cab ride I've had in Chicago.

The ride began mundanely enough, in fact I was actually a little peeved he was keeping it just to 50mph on Lake Shore Drive...it was 2am after all, and not exactly congested. This was soon to change, as after taking my exit, the cabbie apparently became possessed by the spirit of Dale Earnhardt. It was almost humorous, his sudden morphing into a road rage freak running down and swerving around anything in his path. (keep in mind 2am, rush hour would not be starting for another 5 whole hours!) I quietly counted the streets to my house; fingers crossed and hoped like hell there wasn't a stray cat or other random object in our path. My guardian angel was apparently working some late-shift overtime however, and I made back to the homestead a-ok.

A recap of the other HellCabs I've had:
1. '97 Cabbie hit another car on Clark St. heading home from the Hidden Shamrock. All of us were ok, except my friend D who managed to smash his head on the partition...panic ensued as well as being introduced to my first Chicago ER.

2. '98 Going to a show at the Hideout, the cabbie hailed was apparently a fan of the Blues Brothers crash scene...Western Ave the quickest route splits; the local and the "express" which heads up at a nice 25degree angle; we took the latter at full thrust and achieved horizontal momentum minus asphalt for about 5 nail-crunching seconds.

3. '98 An after work nightcap with K, my companion in the sports advertising trenches, turned into quite a few Guinness and the discovery that we both have a thing for men in kilts. Taking a cab back to her condo, we were rear-ended on Lake Shore by an obviously snockered peroxide blonde in a now totaled white Camero.