Take back what you said about Thor!!!

...and yes, I did pillage like a Viking on Saturday night. Those beers never saw their ice chest village being sacked!

Another reason to be kosher...

This morning, a handy little eating PSA for those who try to avoid nibbling on things that should be relegated to prehistoric man's "Oh, well then, I know what that tastes like now!!!" palate discrimination.

With work slowing down to a cozy pace, I've slid once more into a comfortable 1 hour lunch routine; this has vastly expanded my options on where to dine and yesterday's adventure featured Hannah's Bretzel (a charming and healthy, but somewhat pricey, artisan sandwich shop) in Chicago's West Loop.

I wavered on which sandwich to order, finally deciding on the Madrange ham & Camembert cheese with watercress - most opportunely it appears, as my other leaning was the Black Forest ham.

Do you know why Black Forest ham is "black"? Nope, neither did I. And now I wish I didn't. Gone are my illusions of sprightly, lederhosen-clad elves herding portly black and white piglets through a forest glen, where they would be charmed to sleep by fairy pipes and expire dreaming of truffles.

The "black" is achieved by coating the ham with beef's blood during the smoking process. Ugh. Even though I hadn't ordered that particular sandwich, my stomach was upset for the remainder of the afternoon for all the times I had consumed this atrocity, now forbidden to pass my lips.

Wanna know more about ham? Here's an excellent summary of the staggering number of ham variants and their substitutions.

One Night in Bangkok?

I recently received a series of emails intend for another "jrnelson"....this is fairly common event, as even with all the countless e-address providers out there, "J" and "NELSON" are an outrageously common combination.

Usually, it's just an college friend of "jrnelson" (who I politely redirect) or junk mail (you're welcome whoever you are for my "refuse" services). This recent set of correspondence was very unusual however, and contained very specific and possibly confidential information. In fact, upon my first reading in the groggy mid-morning light it seemed to read like one of Tom Clancy's novels about a European spy heist!

Alas, upon further reviewal, it's probably just about importing foreign computer parts....but, then again, it could be a plot, the "Falcon" could refer to a disowned Romanian playboy who is running an illegal ring of knockoff designer clogs!!!

I'll leave it to you be the judge: (all names and details/locales altered for the unknown parties' protection, the grammar/syntax is all the mysterious writer though!)

Dear Koenraad,

Herewith I confirm our telephone call from this evening:

Tomorrow morning at 04.30 hrs. your driver picks me up at the flat and drives me to the station where I take the minibus to go to Bangkok (the same station as last time)

I must pick up my college dorm colleague Jarek Nelson from the airport and come with him back to Koh Samui for evening only.

I shall take from this station in Koh Samui a taxi and let me drive to our meeting.

Our customer Mr. Faolán McCorkle will arrive from Bangkok to Koh Samui at Monday morning

Swaantje will reserve a room for Mr. Faolán from Monday on Tuesday and from Tuesday on Wednesday (2 nights) at the Imperial Samui Hotel in Koh Samui (the same hotel where I stayed for about 8 weeks)

Sunday morning we go with Mr. Faolán McCorkle to procure the finished samples at our expense.

Mr. Faolán from the Falcon will make a full check of the new Combo Barnstormer and will decide what steps are crucial to be made forthwith then.

For this Mr. Faolán will stay here by Swaantje, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Wednesday evening Mr. Faolán will fly from Koh Samui to Bang Po and stay there some time.

We will discuss together the program with you tomorrow for the Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.

Greetings,
Hans R. De Vries II

Ooh baby, is that crocodile dung?

On this lovely Saturday, I had a fairly desperate errand to attend. In need of refills and 2 months shy of my annual gynecological visit, it was off to Planned Parenthood I went. It was packed for a weekend, more so than usual, and I waited in a long line to even be carded for admittance (thank you, right wing fanatics!)

Ahead of me was a fairly young woman and her male companion, who became rather distraught when it appeared they could not find her appointment. When asked why she was there by the receptionist, she hissed quietly "An abortion of course, how do you not know this?!" The interchange with "Buffy" and "Biff" took quiet some time, during which I really took a dislike to her. Soon, I wanted to tap her on the shoulder and say, "Hey, I realize this is probably the worst day of your life, but these people are marvelous and here to help you....stop biting the hand already!"

"Buffy" was agog that they would be unable to call her cell phone when there was an opening, thus allowing her to return to her Gold Coast apartment around the corner. Instead, she would have to wait among the unwashed masses for 3-6 hours while they scrambled their appointments to fit her in. Again, the urge to jump up and down on her precious pink Ugg boots was overwhelming to me. Did she not realize that with Samuel Alito looking to be confirmed to the high court, this was a huge deal that she was even allowed to be there? I guess the adage: "Don't know what you got..." holds true.

Even my basic purchases were a "choice" and a "right" that Mr. Alito would like to see denied. Stupid people are dangerous, Stupid people in power are deadly. In his ignorant and uninformed legal ramblings (page 11, for the skimmers), Mr. Alito stated in that "some forms of birth control are ‘abortifacients' " and lumped birth control pills, the contraceptive ring and the IUD in as being no different than abortions. His argument hinges on the fact that while the primary goal of these birth control methods is to impede egg production by the ovaries, they also thicken the uterine lining to prevent implantation should an egg be produced and fertilized. Due to the extreme right-wing's assertion that life begins at conception, the followed train of thought would then make this lumping possible.

What's a gal to do in this very scary, fingers-crossed it never comes down to that event? Personally, should this travesty come to light, I will be looking in to my Canadian and European options and organizing some lovely gal-pal "weekends". Or there are many other options that humans have discovered over the years, here's a history.

As I exited after filling my prescription, one of the volunteers opened the door for me on my way out and said almost apologetically, "We have a small group of protesters who might approach you, please feel free to ignore them and have a nice day." I wanted to hug her. Thank you for being here and for allowing me to fulfill my rights, even if it's just for today.

Leon and the Pile of Dead Tree Souls

My life is starting to sound strangely like a children's book in which one learns important life lessons through quirky adventures. Here's how the inside blurb of such a tome might read:

Our protagonist goes head-to-head with "Leon" the fly-by-night salesman from New Jersey who has decided to add "Art Director" to his Eastern territory. He makes a list of ridiculously silly demands and artistic critiques that causes one to wonder if Leon favors polyester suit jackets and plaid pants. Little-Bo-Jen is then dragged before Leon in a spur of the moment conference call. She manages to channel her "Sopranos" vibe and Leon is soon rolling over and asking to have his tummy scratched like a good client.

Things are not to remain well for long, though. In her unending desire to please and make an insanely unreasonable deadline, Jenni Longstockings releases a file to her vendor sans a final printout to her boss or the dread Human Resource division head. The job gets printed and is ready to ship on-time, when suddenly three errors are discovered!! There is no choice but to have the job reprinted, as the dread Human Resource division sees the Creative Department as a unfortunate infestation of color upon their bland and grey cubie-land. Luckily, Jenni Longstockings' boss dashes in to save the day by pulling cash out of the department fund to pay for the job re-run. Jenni can only hope that this blockheaded act will not impede her potential hiring in the next month and send her into such a spiral of despair that she will sell her horse and house to move to Cuba in hopes that planting a tree farm there will appease Mother Earth for the trees she put to a untimely death by being cocky.

Yes Jennifer, There IS a New Year's Day!

Okay, to all the folks that repeatedly told me over the weekend:

"There's no way your office is open on Monday...no one is open!!!"

Please award yourselves ONE big-fat-I-told-Jen-so-point. I am now back from downtown, which is, indeed a ghostown. I now resolve to have a bagel, do some laundry and observe New Year's Day with the rest of Chicagoland....once they get out of bed that is!