Headline of the day for evoking unintended imagery

A CNN followup story about the overdue resignation of Egyptian president Mubarak is headlined as follows:

"Longtime spy chief now atop Egyptian pyramid"

Here's what I immediately imagined -- you tell me if you're thinking the same thing.

"Chicago Dibs" comes to Argyle Street

After we moved here, we heard about a decades-old tradition of "dibs" that pops up every winter in some Chicago neighborhoods. The rules go like this: after a big snow, if you're parked on the street, you have to shovel out your car, before the snow hardens into a nasty ice cocoon around your vehicle. It's a lot of work. Once you've shoveled out said car and drive it somewhere else, you may hold your spot with any old crap you've got sitting around -- favorite items are lawn chairs, buckets, and sawhorses. This way your hard-earned spot is still there when you come back. Should someone else move your crap and take your spot, it is acceptable to seek revenge upon the offending car. Revenge may include, but is not limited to, "icing" the vehicle with repeated applications of a garden hose, shoveling several feet of snow back on top of the car, and in more anger-prone individuals, keying and even breaking windows.

Yeah, I think it sounds really childish too. This is our third winter in Chicago, and every year I hear stories and see pictures of "dibs," but up until now have never seen it with my own eyes. I guess it took two feet of snow for the practice to make its way to Argyle Street -- from what everyone tells me, this is a lot more common in the western and southern neighborhoods.

Here you've got a CrapCam view of the spot in question. This person has chosen to adorn their parking spot with two or three doors. No, I don't know where you get spare doors.

A few more blizzard pictures

Maggie and I tromped all the way across our side of Lincoln Park in the hopes of finding a beaten path. I soon realized that it was all knee-deep for quite a ways in each direction. The best option was to get out onto Lake Shore Drive and keep going. It's certainly not something one gets to do very often -- the drive was closed in both directions for a little over a day. Just south of us, the northbound lanes were clogged up with hundreds of abandoned cars that had to be towed one by one.

What a view! You can see the Hancock tower from where we are.

Here we are trying to find a way down onto the street... but when the snow's as high as a bicycle wheel, it's tough going.

And still, people had already gotten out and shoveled so the sidewalks were pretty clear. It's called the City that Works for a reason.

The Blizzard of 2011

...one week later. It really was as huge as they were forecasting -- this storm ended up being the third largest blizzard in recorded Chicago history, which is saying something. Chris and I both got a day and a half off of work, amazing in a city that doesn't shut down. It just doesn't. The last time locals remember getting a snow day was in 1999, and even the public schools didn't shut down for that storm.

We ended up with about two feet of snow, I reckon. It's so hard to say once you see the huge difference in drift heights. O'Hare got just over 20 inches, so we definitely got more on account of the lake effect snow.

Maggie and I headed out last Wednesday afternoon, a couple hours after the snow stopped, to take some pictures for posterity.

I took this last one out the window of our back deck -- we got enough sunshine to barely melt the snow in the window, so it curled around on itself. So pretty!

Is it hunkering down or bracing?

I think it's the former for hurricanes, the latter for snowstorms. Now that's sorted. We're bracing for the Great Blizzard of 2011 here in Chicago, where they're forecasting anywhere from 14 to 23 inches of snow, accompanied by sustained winds of 45 MPH, with gusts up to 60 MPH. My office closed at 1, and we're not coming in at all tomorrow. To give you a good idea of how serious that is, most people had to go back to 1999 to remember the last time my company had a full-on snow day.

So that's pretty awesome.

I just got back from the grocery store, which is packed, and I'm somewhat disappointed to report that there's plenty of milk available. I didn't even need milk -- I just went over to the dairy aisle hoping to see a vast wasteland bereft of milk. At the risk of sounding like Jerry Seinfeld, what is the deal with people needing huge quantities of milk before a storm? WHY MILK? Also, orange juice and toilet paper.

Oh, you want to know what I had to rush over to the store to buy before the Huge Whiteout of the Decade. Yeahhhh... about that. I subscribe to a little different philosophy than the milk/TP people. I came back laden with Oreos, Ruffles, and Cheez-Its. And mac and cheese, bacon, and eggs for "real food" options. I know, that sounds way better than the juice-having household, right?

Maybe I'll change once I'm a mom, but I really really doubt it. Old hurricane-preparedness tactics from one's twenties die hard. The kid will be lucky I don't want to open all the windows to avoid a glass blowout.

The internet wins. Again

I've been busy being pregnant. That always means something different, depending on exactly how pregnant I've been. For a while, I was busy being tired, then busy doing all the stuff I had wanted to do when I was busy being tired. After that, I was busy going home for Christmas so people could look at me being pregnant. Then I was busy being pregnant in Hawaii, which was nice. We've also been busy gutting and renovating our kitchen and spare bathroom, which has very little to do with being pregnant, other than wanting to get it done before I'm done being busy being pregnant.

Now. One of the things I was busy doing, aside from all that, was retaining and working with a doula, which I wish everybody knew about but it turns out very people do. A doula is a labor coach -- someone who's seen childbirth dozens of times before, and who knows all the tips and tricks to get through it easier, safer, and less painfully. My doula is named Valerie, and she's wonderful. I'm telling you all that so I can tell you this story, which I'm trying to camouflage as interesting, because it's not.

One of the things Valerie suggested I start doing is drinking red raspberry leaf tea. It's been used for ages to help along all things reproductive. You can google it if you like, but I won't go into it. The last time we were at the grocery store, I sauntered down the tea aisle to see about this magical tea. Yeah, they had it -- at the crazy price of about $5 for 16 teabags. For that price, it better offer to deliver the baby for me. I reckoned the price would be only a bit lower, if not higher, at a specialty hippie store, so I immediately canned that idea.

TO THE INTERNETS!! Here it is, about a week later, and I've received my tea from a crunchy hippie store online. I went ahead and ordered a pound for around $20. Have you ever wondered what a pound of loose tea leaves looks like? Yeah, me too. It turns out a pound of loose tea is enough to pack full a gallon Ziploc bag, and then some; and at 1-2 teaspoons per serving, I reckon I've got enough tea for approximately 3.42 brazillion cups of tea.

So come on over. We'll have some uterus-toning tea and have a wild time.

Caroling at the Bean!

I guess I should have said "Caroling at Cloud Gate," but nobody would know what the hell that was. I've been taking ukulele classes at the Old Town School of Folk Music for the past few months, and the school got the opportunity to perform in Millennium Park as part of the city's Friday night caroling program.

That night, it was the warmest it had been in quite a while -- which is to say, flirting with freezing. We were all fine until we realized we were stuck on those risers for a full hour. That's a long time to stand in one spot, not moving one's blood around. But it was fun, and we got to sing Christmas songs, and how many people can say they've done this?

Thanks to my manager/photographer Chris for the below documentation.

Overheard on the train

"I know Helen Keller had her sense of smell -- but in my family, I'm considered the Helen Keller of noses."

Funundrum Recommends

You know those big tins of cheese, caramel, and butter popcorn that appear like magic in office breakrooms right about this time of year? And how the cheese and caramel always get finished way before the regular kind?

First of all, why even bother with the regular kind? How come you never see half and half cheese and caramel?

Anyway, there was quite a lot of cheese/caramel detritus in the bottom of the tin. These pieces, for reference, were about the size of Nerds candy. I took a big scoop back to my desk and emptied it into my mouth via a paper towel funnel.

It was the greatest thing I have ever tasted. I hallucinated unicorns. I am alerting the Michelin people and recommending an immediate application of at least two stars.

Dork Alert

People's message board handles (translation for parents: "handle" = the user name you call yourself instead of your real name) often make me laugh due to their cleverosity. Sometimes, they reveal a geeky sensibility that I proudly share, and their little inside joke makes me feel like part of a greater Internet whole.

Other times, a message board handle overwhelms me with its dorky intelligence, and I'm almost ashamed at the inner glee I feel upon seeing it. That happened today.

The name? "Yclept." Say what? Well, you pronounce it "ee-klept," and in Middle English, it means "named." Comes up a lot in The Canterbury Tales.

***End dork alert***

Halloween costumes -- as promised.

We both went with hoodie-based costumes this year, because they are warm, easy to make into other stuff, and cheap. Good times. I had my sights set on being an octopus this year, just because my inner five-year-old wanted "something with tentacles." That is a direct quote. I am really proud of Chris' costume -- I saw this blue hoodie at Old Navy, and realized it was furry on the entire inside. Inside-out hoodie + ping pong balls = casual-but-fun Cookie Monster! I am slowly molding Chris into the Halloween-loving citizen he should have been long ago. Yay!



I am sorry that I didn't get better pictures of the hundreds of tiny felt suckers I glued to the tentacles. I assure you it was awesome.

Next year: Luke, Leia, and Yoda.

Oh hey, BTW I'm having a baby or something.

I mean, I'm pretty sure it's a baby. I've seen a bunch of pictures of what is allegedly my uterus, which contains a moving thing that is either a baby or a reasonable facsimile thereof.

This post is pretty much for whichever of my two readers didn't already know. As of today, I'm a little over halfway there, and due in mid-to-late March. It should be a pretty cool kid. I'm trying really hard not to be an obsessed mommy type person, because I mock those people and that would be really awkward.

Anyway, I was searching my library's database today for some books on natural childbirth, on account of my need to know too much about every hobby* I get myself into. You can see why I found the results hilarious.
* Uh, yeah, having a baby totally counts as a hobby. It adheres to all the major tenents of Hobbydom:

1. Costs money
2. Requires specialized gear
3. You do it on purpose
4. People spend a lot of time on irritating message boards devoted solely to the subject/activity
5. When talking about the subject/activity, you quickly bore the hell out of people who aren't directly participating in said activity

Bad copy of the day award -- CNN edition

This is not a post about how terrible CNN’s online editors have become. That’s been old news for at least five years. Instead, I’d like to gleefully point out one of the more confusing and egregious word choices to appear in recent memory.

Tyler Perry is attempting to become a more serious filmmaker by putting out a movie called “For Colored Women,” based on a play with a similar (but longer) name. The news story is about Perry’s struggle to get people besides “colored women” to come see it – he’s afraid that everyone else will assume they won’t relate to the movie. The story paraphrases a local man on the street’s view of the potential problem:

“Yet he [the man interviewed] too said he has wondered how Perry will reach nonwomen of color with a movie explicitly about women of color.”

“Nonwomen”? That little gem doesn’t even make it past my spell check program, let alone pass any logic tests. I can understand people having a hard time pluralizing “courts martial” or getting confused by “yes we have no bananas today,” but this brand of lazy and wrong just hurts. CNN, this isn’t your first offense by far, but I’ll still try to help you out a little bit:

“Yet he [the man interviewed] too said he has wondered how Perry will reach _______ with a movie explicitly about women of color.”

• “other demographics”
• "a broader audience"
• "a wider array of viewers"
• “the eponymous group of ladies, as well as, but not limited to, men of color, men of less color, women and men with not much pigment at all, people who blush easily, albinos (but not the freaky kind who walk around with no sunglasses on so you can see their weird red eyes), and kids between the ages of 16 and 24 who aren’t caught up with either Twilight or pretentious art flicks.”

Happy Halloween!

This year, I wanted to go with a ki'i (that's fancy Hawaiian for "tiki god," more or less) on account of our upcoming trip to the Big Island this January. My choices of pumpkin were limited -- a taller, skinnier one would have been ideal, but this one did just fine. We are planning on seeing the real version of this ki'i at Puuhonau o Honaunau National Park.

A story about Chris

Our friends Sarah Marie and Stuart visited us a couple of weekends ago. Much like myself, Sarah Marie was raised Protestant and went and married a Catholic guy. She was giving him a hard time because of his "sad childhood," defined mostly as an upbringing devoid of songs such as "Jesus Loves Me." "It's true," he said, "I don't even know the words."

I was equally amused and appalled, and instantly turned to Chris to find out if this bizarre method of childrearing had been foisted upon him as well. "Chris -- do YOU know the words to 'Jesus Loves Me'?"

Chris was confident. "Sure thing. It's like,

Jesus loves me, this I know

Because the Bible says it's so

If he hollers let him go

E-I-E-I-O

I legally died laughing. I was out for a good ten minutes, and spent some quality time with my grandparents, Abe Lincoln, and a pet rat named Chloe before I came back to this dimension.

Things That Probably Make Me A Bad Person

Since it's coming around on Halloween time once again, I've started to see a lot of related articles and such on the internet. More than once, I've read the inevitable stories of people who grew up on the same block as the neighborhood dentist. Because dentists often suck at having fun (that's science fact -- look it up), trick-or-treating at their house often resulted in a toothbrush, or maybe some floss.

See, here's where I'm different. If I was a dentist, I'd be handing out big ol' handfuls of taffy, Jolly Ranchers, and caramel corn. Anything that tends to get stuck in tiny little teeth.

This concludes today's edition of "Things That Probably Make Me A Bad Person."

Good Copy of the Day Award, Unexpected Applicant Division

While riding home on the Red Line, I saw some graffiti on the side of a building. That alone wouldn't be remarkable, but 1) it was the large-format type, where someone had taken the trouble to fill in each letter with multiple colors, and 2) it said this:

"My crew's doper"

I found myself refreshingly pleased at the correctly used apostrophe. I'd love for this guy, and his dope crew, to assemble some punctuation education materials and distribute them throughout the land. If this thug can do it, so can you, America.

Adventures in Southeast Asia

...more commonly referred to as "shopping on Argyle Street." I was baking a coconut cake for a dinner with some friends, mostly because I had some leftover coconut milk and coconut flakes from two unrelated projects. The difficulty was that I also needed coconut flavoring, yet had none. I struck out at both Pakistani corner stores, then realized I should just go talk to the Asians, who have more experience with coconut-related food items than pretty much anyone else on earth.

I managed to find the flavoring display without any help, but to my dismay most of the small bottles contained flavors with which I was not familiar. I went to Foreign Food Plan B and started looking at the little pictures on the bottles, zeroing in on one labeled "Buco Pandan" that seemed to feature a green coconut and another plant. The liquid inside was virulent green. The cash register lady was pleased to answer my question of "Is this coconut?" "Yes, yes. And pandan."

"What is pandan, please?" At this point I was more than ready to make coconut pandan cake, but I wanted to be able to explain the exotic cake to my guests. "Pandan... pandan..." She was mentally searching for the words to explain the flavor of a fruit that this gringo had never even seen. (Have you ever had to explain what a pineapple or a peach tastes like? It's not easy.) She brightened up a little. "Pandan... it tastes green!"

I looked down at the bottle of green, looked up at the lady, looked back at the bottle, and figured I'd go for it.

The cake did have a bit of a green flavor to accompany the green cast given it by the flavoring. Nobody seemed to mind.

Downstairs Kids Update

Someone just farted, according to a recent high-pitched allegation.

This is not a repeat from 2005.

Bad Copy of the Day Award

Yay! It's been a long time, but I've finally been given the gift of a whole pile of terrible, terrible copy. This is from a marketing piece, created by another office, that my boss wants me to recreate for our clients.

"We look forward to sharing with you in this meeting our proprietary analytical tools developed by us for our clients perusal."

There's much more, but this was so tantalizingly clausealicious.