A victory for the little people

letter clutch - front
Originally uploaded by ::sämyii::.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that US Postal Service employees are the most disgruntled you'll ever find. They pass on their workplace frustrations directly to their customers which is both unfair and unpleasant. By and large, customer service simply ceases to exist once you reach a USPS counter.

And I think one of the biggest bummers about the whole thing is the fact that we NEED the postal service, and the employees know this. So there is no incentive for them to cheer up and actually be helpful, because as customers, we're going to keep coming back regardless of the treatment we receive.

So with all this in mind, I trudged over to the USPS after lunch thinking that the lines would be smaller and I could get in and get out quickly. Not so.

Round One with the USPS employee began with her annoyance that I couldn't find an appropriately-sized mailbox for the gifts I needed to send. In typical Goldilocks fashion, one box was too small, but the next size up was far too big. No mailbox I could see on the shelves was just right.

Faced with the option of splitting the gifts into two smaller boxes, I instead opoted to shove the whole gift collection into one big box and bravely approached the counter for Round Two.

The USPS employee was now deliberately being useless, and she looked at me like I had the plague when I queried whether she might have spare newspaper behind her desk so that I could pad the box out a bit.

She seemed to think that newspaper was a ludicrous suggestion, and instead wondered why I couldn't clearly see that the USPS sells bubble wrap for that very purpose. Now I understand the concept of up-selling, but as I was now so irritated by her, all I wanted to do was wrap HER in bubble wrap and mail her somewhere far, far away.

But I am also good at picking my battles, so I let the USPS lady win that one, and instead I duly opened a pack of costly bubbly plastic and stuffed the box with it. Once I had ensured that the enclosed gifts were safely protected, and all the necessary customs forms filled out, I returned to the counter for what I hoped would be the final round.

Round Three began with much huffing and puffing on the USPS employee's part, trying to fathom why I would send such a huge box to such a far-away land. By now I was quite happy standing in utter silence and just letting her do her thing. And clearly silence was not something that this woman was used to. Realising that our transaction was nearing its close, she tried to make up some ground with me.

To my complete surprise, she said "I'm really sorry if I was mean to you before," and yet made no additional excuse as to why she was mean, or why she was now sorry for it. And by way of reply, again to my complete surprise, I simply uttered "Uh huh". And nothing more.

So this annoyed her because I was now playing hardball (and I was past the point of caring) so she was blathering on about Australia and my family and whether it was hard for me to adjust to living in a new country.

And what did I say?

"Uh huh."

And I manged to maintain this frosty silence until she had finished processing the transaction. Completely out of character for me, but on a steamy Friday afternoon, I was completely over it and not in the least interested in putting up with her crap any more than I had to.

So once I was certain that my gifts were correctly bound for Australia and not, perhaps, Austria, I gathered my things, cordially wished her a pleasant weekend, and left.

And even though statistically the USPS woman won 2 rounds out of our 3, I nevertheless felt that I had ultimately emerged the victor because after all, she was the one who ended up apologising. And in the case of USPS, everybody knows that that NEVER happens.

Fugedda-boudit

There is a construction site across the road from office with, quite honestly, the best looking crew I've ever seen.

In the absolute absence of any kind of OH&S policy, they bash and crash to build some sort of eyesore that will hopefully not block too much of my view over the Chicago River. They dangle from the lofty heights, with no harnesses or safety nets, or even hard hats (in the case of some). They have even put up a cheeky chalk sign on one of their steel thingies that says "We do all our own stunts" - they are classic.

The other day I learned that it is quite uncommon in the US to have office buildings with a 13th floor (superstition is alive and well here), but the construction workers are basically working on what would be the 13th floor - so they're basically eye-to-eye with me all day.

Of course I'm too shy to open my blinds, because I know that they can see me - and with so many of them looking like the Diet Coke man, I can't say I'd get any work done if I got to watch THEM all day too.

But yesterday I was walking to work and stopped in at the pharmacy first. I crossed the road when the lights changed and ended up on the same side of the road as the construction site. A bunch of construction workers were lined up outside the site, enjoying a cup of coffee and the warm sunshine. As I walked past, the cute one in the green cut-off shirt (who I had noticed maybe once, yeah right) smiled at me and said "How YOU doin'?".

Totally Chicago.

And what did I do? Yep, I giggled like a bloody schoolgirl and kept walking.

Hopeless.

Oops, I did it again

Gab chills out in Burano
Originally uploaded by Miss Gab.

I am heartily apologising in advance for the fact that by the end of this month, I will be completely and utterly obsessed (again) with Venice.

This is not the first time that such an obsession has overtaken me. I have been to Venice three times and with each visit, my love affair just grows stronger.

I'm not in Venice right now of course, but I feel like I'm there because I'm reading "The City of Falling Angels" by John Berendt - the guy who wrote "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil". All the characters in the book are real, and not at all difficult to imagine.

With each page I read, I am trying to imagine how I can get back to Venice and its islands and, what's more, how I could stay there at some length. Is there a job for me there, or should I just be a professional house-sitter in an ancient, crumbling palazzo and putt-putt up and down the Grand Canal all day?

Either way, the book is fabulous and even though I want to punch Mr Berendt for being the type of guy whose trip to Venice has introduced him to the Mayor, City officials, faded aristocrats, genteel English expats, and other toffy types, it is the fact that he writes about Venice with such genuine affection that striking a chord with me.

Venetians love melodrama and exaggeration is the norm there. If you are too 'normal', they will dismiss you as being a bore. The absence of cars means that everybody walks everywhere, and 'being seen' is what Venice is all about. So in that sense, Venice is a level playing field (socially-speaking) and I love that idea.

So if you don't mind, I'm going to keep reading, and daydreaming, and maybe one day I will find myself back there living the high life amongst the rats, pigeons, and tourists - and loving every minute of it.

The urban rainforest

taxi manhole steam
Originally uploaded by countchomkula.

This weekend I was all set to be a social whirlwind but instead, my efforts were hampered by crippling lethargy caused by the weather. I have been really struggling because of the humidity. I don't remember being this knocked out last summer, but the last two days I've been sleeping during the days, and feeling really sluggish when I do make it outdoors.

I looked after DB yesterday who is originally from Adelaide too, and now works in our California office. We went to brunch in the morning, took a long walk to the famed Viagara Triangle in the afternoon, and then met up again last night for dinner and a few drinks about town. I didn't make it to our evening meeting on time, as a freak thunder & lightning storm made it difficult to even get outside. I had to wait for a break in the nasty weather so I could walk to the main road to grab a taxi. And even that turned into a rushed mercy mission. But I made it Downtown and we had a good time catching up.

Today I have been a couch potato and have had little energy for anything beyond channel surfing and sleeping. I slept through a rather nasty rainstorm and awoke with a start when I remembered that I hadn't closed my bedroom window before the nap. Consequently my floorboards were soaked, ditto the bottom half of my bed quilt. Whatever. In this icky heat, everything dried pretty quickly.

Right, I've been sitting up for way too long typing this - need to get back to the reclining position. How do people in Florida and even Brisbane handle this weather?! I'll never understand it.

Turn the heat down will ya?

So the winter chills have given way to a burst of spring (complete with sneezing fits) and in the space of only a few days, spring is being given the royal shove by a summer that seems way too eager to get started. Personally I'm finding it very tricky to keep up, if only from a fashion point of view.

One of the great things about the warmer weather's arrival is that Chicago socially springs to life, and I'm ready to embrace that for sure. This weekend I plan to take full advantage of the annual Blues Fest in Grant Park (which is celebrating its 25th year), and also Ribs Fest up in the Lincoln Square neighbourhood, not too far from my house. I have no idea how many years Rib Fest has been going, and I do not care to know - the fact that I will be able to buy my body weight in baby back ribs slathered in an array of sauces makes me so happy I could pee.

Last night I finally caught up with the lovely Bork and we tried out a brand new bar called "Potter's" which is part of the historic Palmer House Hilton. Can you believe I've never even been inside the Palmer before? What the?! It used to be a private residence way back in the day but what with all the Hilton add-ons, it's hard to tell where the original residence ended and the newer renovations commenced. No matter really, "Potter's" is 100% new and it's actually quite nice. So much better that we went on a weeknight too because we got to sit right at the bar and had the full attention of the bartender, whose Cosmopolitans were divine.

So you can see that a cracking pace has already been set for the summer social season. I'm almost even able to handle the blessed humidity that comes with a Chicago summer. I must be getting used to this place or something...

Lazarus at the Ballpark

I have been a bit of an invalid this week, struck down by a pretty nasty case of pharangytis. The good people in the ER at Northwestern dosed me up with some antibiotics and pain meds that took a few days to kick in, but I'm now doing pretty well on the road to recovery.

And it's just as well that I've rallied from my deathbed so well, because it's the Memorial Day long weekend and Miss K has come into Chi-Town to spend some time with me. She arrived on Friday evening around 9pm and we chatted a bit and watched some TV and then crashed.

We were up early-ish yesterday and enjoyed a nice breakfast together at home, walked around the neighbourhood in the beautiful Saturday sunshine and browsed the market garden set up at the primary school on Melrose. Then we met Dr G and spent a lovely afternoon watching the White Sox play at Cellular Field. It was Miss K's first baseball game and aside from the cold winds whipping around us, she enjoyed the experience. I am not sure that Miss K will ever forget the fluoro hot dog relish (direct quote, "Eeek - that colour does not occur in nature!!").

After the game, we took the El back downtown and got off in the City (leaving Dr G to head home for a much-needed nap), and me & Miss K watched the new Indiana Jones movie. We both really enjoyed it - lots of the good old stuff and it was nice to see Harrison Ford back in his famous role.

Today we slept (really) late and we've had a leisurely breakfast at home, and we're about to go and meet Lex & C for a visit to Lincoln Park Zoo. My mission? To finally find the meerkats. I know they're there but in the three or four visits I've made to LP Zoo in my time here, I've never seen them. Today will be a different story entirely!

Now I know how the caterpillars feel

FaLLing dreamS ..
Originally uploaded by COLoriya.

For months it feels like all of us in the City have been hibernating, cooped up indoors and only venturing out to go to and from work. If we've headed out for social pursuits, it has been done with some reluctance because it has brought with it the need to lug around a raincoat, umbrella, and other such water-repellant accessories. And speaking for all of us, we've had enough.

So it's a welcome surprise to see some sunshine today, and feel genuine warmth to go along with it. I walked to my hairdressers today, rocking out to my ipod, and genuinely having a great time. Buses sailed by me, but I wasn't having it. People were driving past me, with dogs hanging their heads out the window, smiling goofily. It seemed that everyone, whether on two legs or four, was having a great time outdoors today.

And this has come at the end of a pretty good couple of weeks, all things considered.

I have gone out socially a few times this week, continuing my 'culture vulture' tendencies by going to the theater. I went to see Eddie Izzard in his latest show, "Stripped" and it was a hoot. He just has great timing, such a creative brain, and wonderful delivery. I've now seen Eddie 3 times and I think he's great.

Then last night I went to see "Shout", a musical with amazing songs from the 60s (think Dusty Springfield and just about anything that Burt Bacharach ever wrote). It isn't a musical that will change your life in any way, but it was still very well done and the girls in the show are very talented (you'd have to be, to be on stage full-time for 90 minutes - yikes!).

With the weather still so unpredictable, the theater is still the best place for me to hang out and I have a few more shows I want to see in the coming weeks.

But next weekend is the Memorial Day long weekend and K is coming to town. We have baseball tickets (I'm going to see the Sox - shh don't tell my Cubbies), but all I want is for the weather to hold out for us so we can walk around and enjoy Chi-Town some more. Fingers crossed!

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

Dad's birthday - the basics for a mexican style dinner
Originally uploaded by tg81.

Today I was excited because KH had just become a grandmother for the second time, but otherwise Monday-itis had threatened to creep in and devour me.

But today is also Cinco de Mayo ("5th of May") and it is a time when pretty much everyone around my neighbourhood commemorates an 1862 battle in Mexico between the Mexicans and the French. Today it is standing-room only in the Mexican restaurants around town, as everyone finds a legitimate reason to slam Patron shots on a school night.

As for me, I've decided to stay home and start my own tradition. I am making my inaugural Cinco de Mayo beef chilli and so far, it's working a treat. I've even found a cable TV station that is broadcasting amazing Mexican tunes [I have no idea what they're singing of course but they sound very happy and it's really feelgood, mariachi-style music.]

My apartment smells so great and even though I suspect the aroma of chilli powder and smokey cumin and jalapenos is going to take FOREVER to come out of my sofa, I am loving it.

And don't worry, I don't have any Patron in the house - or any alcohol at all for that matter. So clearly I did not plan this little one-woman fiesta too well after all, did I?

Happy Cinco de Mayo!!

At least it's not Gwyneth's head in a box

If you've seen the movie "Seven", you're unlikey to ever forget the full list of the 7 deadly sins. After my relatively action-packed Saturday, I was the very embodiment of SLOTH yesterday and I was absolutely thrilled about it.

I got up early and did some loads of laundry, and felt a bit of a lame rush of excitement when I put brand new sheets on my bed. Come 11am, I had clean sheets, towels, and clothes, and I was ready to stare and the wall and wonder, "What next?".

Then I came to my senses and realised that I could quite comfortably lie down on the sofa, and stare at the TV instead. And so that's what I did. After a couple of "Food Network" shows, and an old Eric Bana DVD, I had a snooze for a while.

I had opened my windows up nice and wide yesterday so my apartment was full of honey-coloured light and the most relaxing soft breeze blowing through. It was impossible NOT to be relaxed.

When I woke from my nap, I realised that I had slept more heavily than I'd intended, and so I was feeling pretty out of it. But I forced myself to eat a small dinner (my first and only meal of the day), and then I watched a bit more TV before putting myself to bed.

Now of course Kevin Spacey doesn't need to bust into my apartment and bolt me to my bed for a year to demonstrate the folly of SLOTH. I needn't be punished for enjoying a bit of downtime now and then - and if you can't chill out on a sunny Sunday, when can you?!

The gift that keeps on giving

I headed out yesterday morning to buy Jammin' Jems a birthday present. Feeling well chuffed that I was motivated so early, I stopped by Borders to get "Sundays At Tiffany's", the new book by James Patterson that has been getting rave reviews.



Then I called in to Aveda to get some hair product because at this point I hate my hair so much I just want to shave it off. This pomade is my last-ditch attempt to salvage a haircut that is driving me crazy (and now I think I'll last until my appointment with R-r-r-r-raoul next weekend).



By that time I was exhausted, and it was only 11am, so I paused for a few hours and watched the new Helen Hunt movie "Then She Found Me" at the cinema. Of course I cried. In retrospect it was Helen's own fault - she cried onscreen a number of times and I'm a sucker for that. Plus I love Bette Midler and would watch that woman in just about anything. But of course Colin Firth was just dreamy and had some truly beautiful lines in the film and said things to Helen that every woman wants to hear at least once in her life. If someone says those lines to me one day I will be a happy girl. So yeah, it was a good Kleenex day.

So the lights came up in the cinema, I was emotionally spent, but ready to face the shops and get the birthday present. And so once more into the fray.

"Victoria's Secret" yielded a body lotion and fragrance I had been meaning to buy. I think there is something conceited about a scent called "Very Sexy Hot" but hey, it suited my skin and was an inexpensive summery smell, so I think I can deal with it.



The clothing store saw me load up on a summery dress, a couple of tops, and some spring jackets for work and by then I couldn't carry much else. It was fortuitous I guess that PL called up and offered to buy me a Turkish coffee at the store nearby.

Coffee turned into a burrito and a margarita, which turned into a quick shower & change to head out to a wine tasting and then onto "Rise" for sushi and more Aussie white wine. That turned into red wine at "Coobah" and then more red wine at "Eno" downtown. Somehow we switched to white wine at "NoMi" and then I had to lie down and sleep for a very long time.

And so Jammin' Jems, you'll have to forgive me but I have not bought your birthday present yet. By contrast, I did very well out of this weekend hehe.

It just slipped out, I swear

When I was living back at home, I house sat for a former boss of mine when he and his wife went on holiday. Fortunately I only had to look after myself and the house, as his dogs (who I suspect he loved more than the house) were on their own holiday with Grandma & Grandpa.

Taking me on a tour of his house, showing the locations of lightswitches, and demonstrating the finer workings of the hot tub, we ended in the kitchen. He smiled wryly and told me how he'd taken the liberty of stocking the fridge with milk, eggs, and butter to get me started - and he'd also bought a few extra goodies for the freezer. He opened the freezer door rather theatrically and pulled out a single-serve lasagne. "Spinster Lasagne!" he declared, and chuckled to himself hysterically. I had to admit it was kinda funny.

Cooking for one has become my strong suit and I love being able to cook what I want, eat what I can, and freeze the rest. It's a routine and it works.

But tonight I knew the weather would be bad, I desperately wanted a night in, but I was craving steak and vegetables. So off I trudged in the high winds with the greyest of grey stormclouds rolling in overhead, and into the supermarket for a turbo shop.

Getting to the register, I chose my favourite 'checkout chick', who is actually a transvestite. I adore him because he is so friendly and charming and compliments me all the time. Looking at my meagre order, clearly identifying that I was cooking steak and veggies, he smiled at me conspiratorially and said, "ahh, is your baby at home then tonight?".

And I said, "yes".

No sooner was it out of my mouth than I realised what he'd said. And how I'd responded. I'd basically just invented a relationship. By then there was a queue behind me, and I knew everyone had heard, so I couldn't very well correct myself.

So there I was, rambling on about my plans for me and my home-alone baby (who I hope wasn't actually meant to be a baby, rather a grown up man), and dribbling a whole bunch of rubbish about what meal I was going to cook. Naturally the fact that I bought Ben & Jerry's icecream PLUS two boxes of muffin mix only further compounded my domestic bliss lie.

I know that in the scheme of things, this was a white lie, and doesn't count for much, but hey - I even surprised myself about how quickly I fell into this relationship fairyland.

Something tells me though that if my 'boyfriend' happened to see just how quickly I devoured my steak & veggies tonight, he probably wouldn't have been all that attracted...

Spring has recoiled

Contrary to Oswald's comment on my earlier post, I do not plan to write this blog in German, or any language other than English, though I appreciate his confidence in my multi-lingualism (hmm and my penchant for creating words perhaps....). But I digress.

I have a bad case of the irrites today and responsibility for this lies entirely with the weather. My apartment was really warm this morning, and in the absence of seeing any day forecast, I did this "should I, shouldn't I" thing with wearing my scarf and raincoat. I split the difference, and decided on the raincoat, but no scarf. Plus my office heats up to a million degrees these days, so I had a short-sleeve shirt on underneath.

So I get to work, shivering as I go, and the topic of conversation on everyone's lips is: SNOW.

What the?!

It would seem that some clever little meterologist had forecast snow today - and not just fluffy feathery stuff either - sheets of snowy rain would be added later in the day, just for good measure.

So on the way home today, I not only froze my a$$ off, but all the steady rain made me need to pee really bad. Anyone who says that the weather in Chicago doesn't play with your mind is kidding themselves. It certainly bested me today.

But I know where I've been...

It has been yet another long time between posts and I really don't have any excuse, save for a healthy dose of disinterest in being online these days. I am quite the creature of habit now. I log on, update my Scrabble games, check my email, and log off. Bo-oring.

And just when I get a crippling 'attack of the guilts' for not updating this blog site, I pour myself a Starbucks and try to stocktake the last few weeks of activities to at least give you some idea of how I'm filling my days. Alrighty, let's see here. [Note that this list will be in random order, because I have not been very good at remembering to bring my diary to work either so I'm relying on the old noodle - and that is never a good idea!.]

• Saw "Sweeney Todd" at the theatre with my good friend Miss Fitz;
• Visited the giant jumble sale that is IKEA - and loved it;
• Enjoyed amateur theater with my friend in her one-woman show;
• Brunched a bunch of times;
• Slowly worked my way through my Netflix queue of movies;
• Bellinis at Pops;
• Won a couple more games of Scrabble against RG (but not quite enough to redeem myself);
• Did tequila shots on a school night (and lived to regret it); and
• Made a list of summer time adventures I need to partake in, and at the very top is a kayak trip down the smelly Chicago River (they don't tell you it's smelly, I just know it is).

Work has been busy because I have a new boss, but as we settle in to each other's way of working, things will get easier. And not before time too - as the warm weather in Chicago brings festivals, outdoor dining, and all-round good times to be had.

With any luck, I'll also have some time to update this blog before I forget how to do it!

In the dating world, the truth is out there...

So I'm absolutely sick of spring. Oh sure, I love the weather, and the blossoms, and the ducklings and lambs and all that crap. But I do NOT love the fact that people, particularly big-business dating sites, associate spring time with humans falling in love.

Because what that association inevitably brings with it is an utter onslaught of dating site advertisements polluting my email system. And now the toxic gunk has infected my Facebook.

Every screen I open, some wide-eyed and nubile woman (who has probably never been single in her life) is asking me, "Who's looking for you today? Find him online!". Uh-huh.

I check my email and instead of the latest scam from Nigeria or the most up-to-date cure for erectile disfunction, I have a classically handsome (and definitely gay) fellow with his shirt open, practically begging me to instant message him now.

But the piece de resistance is clearly the ad for e-harmony, with a photo of David Duchovny gazing sexily into the camera, inviting me to jump in to the dating pool.

The deluded types over at E-Harmony seem to think that Fox Mulder himself is gagging for a date. I wonder what Tea Leoni (David's wife of the past billion years) thinks about this?

But hey, if I missed the memo and in fact he IS single (and free on Wednesday), I make a pretty good lamb roast...

...and they lived happily ever after

...
Originally uploaded by paul veraguth.

I am what you might call a 'freestyle dancer', and only if you're feeling generous. It's not that I am devoid of rhythm, it's just that I don't have a great deal of confidence in being able to stick to a routine, that I am better off just disappearing into a crowded dancefloor where my movements can be swallowed up.

And I really do admire those people for whom dancing is not just enjoyable, but is a profession - a way of life. I guess I'm like that with anyone who makes a living doing something that I simply could not, or maybe would not.

I took myself off to a matinee performance of "Sleeping Beauty" at Chicago's Lyric Opera House. I expected the theatre to be full of grannies but instead, the place was packed to the rafters with wannabe ballerinas; little girls of 8-10 years of age, wearing home-made tutus, white stockings and little patent leather shoes. They were all, in a word, adorable.

Before the show, the excitement of the little girls was palpable. And when the live orchestra broke into Tchaikovsky's beautiful score, they hushed and then gasped when the curtain rose to reveal stunning costumes and a group of principal dancers in tutus every colour of the rainbow.

Of course the older kids amongst us were marvelling at the athleticism of the dancers. Even the man in front of me, so obviously dragged along by his near-hysterial wife, was ooh-ing and aah-ing when the jumps were particularly high, or the ballerinas remained 'en pointe' for longer than you expected humanly possible.

And given that the story of "Sleeping Beauty" is so well-known, it's easier to sit back and enjoy the spectacle, because you're not required to learn the plot at the same time.

Towards the end of the second act, when the prince had woken Sleeping Beauty, and the kingdom was celebrating, I got a bit bored. The prince and his future bride had a bit of a dance-off, and then the King of the Fairies and the Queen of the Fairies joined the troupe, and I thought that whole bit went for too long. But I was just a bit impatient for the happy ending that I knew was coming.

Sure enough when the guy FINALLY got the girl, the place erupted and little wannabe ballerinas around the room leapt to their feet and applauded. It was all very cute.

Sometimes if I got to something like this, where I'm ignorant about the artform, I can feel like an intruder. But I was vindicated on my way down the stairs today when a father scooped up his little ballerina and said, "you know what sweetie? I liked it best when the guy lifted the girl up in the air and he caught her right before she hit the floor". And the little girl shook her head sadly at the poor ignoramus of her father and said, "well yes Daddy, that's obviously what he's SUPPOSED to do!".

The straight flush...of capitalism

So I am worn out. I have shopped until I dropped. And as I am such a big baby, it only took two stores to tire me.

I dislike those loud, twenty-something chain stores that pipe irritating music through obnoxiously large speakers in an effort to make patrons feel hip enough to be shopping in there. And I really dislike those stores that have more shop assistants than customers, and every one of those shop assistants absolutely have to put something away right where I am standing at the particular time.

And despite my hefty dislike for both of these things, you're getting an accurate picture of the two stores I patronised tonight.

So my go-to strategy was to try on a shirt, assess the size I needed, and then proceed to grab armloads of the same style shirt in different colours and then get the hell out of there. Fast.

Needless to say I have to take half of the crap back. So the warm flush of capitalism may well be overcoming me, or it could well be the Italian red wine I am quaffing in an attempt to recover.

Yep, it's the wine.

The Four Seasons in one day

Jersey Boys Plays In Chicago
Originally uploaded by Somewhat Frank.

A couple of days ago, my good friend Fitz called up to say she had a spare ticket to "Jersey Boys", the show-stopping Chicago spectacular, and she asked whether I would like to go with her. Or that's what I imagine she would have said, had I allowed her to finish that sentence.

I had been wanting to see the show since before it opened but demand for tickets surely has matched (if not exceeded) "Wicked" and so you have to get tickets well in advance if you want a decent seat - particularly on a weekend. As it was, Fitz had bought these tickets late last year. Had that been me, I probably would have forgotten that I owned them - until after the show had passed!

But Fitz was on the ball, and she invited me along to join her and two friends who live in her building. She kept blathering on about 'bad seats' and 'way in the back' and whatever but hey, I've got little legs and a big imagination - so I knew I'd love it.

I started buzzing with real excitement on Friday morning and I emailed Fitz to that effect. We agreed that we would meet for dinner at "Vivere", part of the gorgeous and historic Italian Village on West Monroe in the theater district.

So I was buzzing about a show I hadn't seen, and now I was doubly excited to go to a restaurant I'd never been to before. I will not keep you in suspense - the waiter was hot, the food was divine, the wine was even better, and the espresso was Illy. Enough said, don't you think?

Bellies full, we wandered down the street to the LaSalle Bank Theater, and took our seats (which turned out to be 'limited view' but I was okay with that). I was blown away by the production. No one sings like that anymore, do they? Or at least no one writes songs like that anymore. I was brought up in a home where bands like the Four Seasons leapt from Dad's vinyl collection and later, CD collection, and busted out of the speakers. So when 'Frankie' sang "My Eyes Adored You" on the stage tonight, I just loved it - it took me right back. And so what if I was showing my age.

I've blogged on here before that Chicago is a 'standing ovation' kinda town, and that used to throw me a little. But tonight I think I was one of the first people on my feet, whooping and carrying on like a porkchop to show my appreciation for the talent up on that stage.

George & Brad were hands-down the best dressed cast in the Ocean's movies - but from where I was sitting tonight, Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons take the cake for the best dressed theater cast in town. Those boys wore those suits, let me tell you.

After the show, I felt like I should have a cocktail, or smoke a cigar, or something - I was right in the zone. But instead, I took a cab home with a driver who wanted to take me to a 24-hour diner and buy me meatloaf.

Sigh.

Sinning never looked so good

Hairdresser Scissors
Originally uploaded by © Lars Fotografie.

I cheated on my hairdresser today.

I'm not proud of it. I know it's wrong, but I had to do it. I love my hairdresser but she moved to a new salon that is staffed by incompetents (not her of course). I made repeated calls to her new establishment and the receptionist disconnected me once, and couldn't hear me the second time. To avoid the receptionist altogether, I tried to make an online appointment but found that my hairdresser had not yet been added to their online list of stylists. To borrow from salon vocab, I was 'foiled' at every turn!

But my hair is like a bowl of fruit. It looks great for a while but then overnight, it turns - and you can't do a thing with it. This was the position I found myself in this week. So to resist having a Britney-style meltdown and shaving my head, I had to find another stylist to take care of me.

And today I met Raoul.

I fell for him immediately. He is, in every sense of the word, fabulous.

Raoul assured me that I had never TRULY had a haircut until I'd been styled by a Latino. I had no idea what that meant, and admittedly I still don't, but the man had me hooked. I think it's because he told me I look 25. That usually does it for me.

Anyway Raoul told me all about his childhood in Mexico and his early years as a stylist in LA, and how the last 10 years in Chicago have been the best in his life. Conversation flowed as he wrapped colour around my hair, neatly packed it all in foil parcels, and left me to cook.

A little snip here, and a little pomade there, and voila - I was done. And I'm seriously happy with the end result. Raoul gave me the modern, chic and purposely non-European haircut that he'd promised. And best of all, my VISA card is not crying.

And I've made plans to cheat with Raoul again in about 5 weeks time. As I left the salon, I got a hug, two cheek kisses, and a "you're fabulous", which was just lovely. Sometimes it's all a girl needs to hear to make her sunny Saturday complete.

Well it's cheaper than crack, I guess

Throwing Tiles
Originally uploaded by powerbooktrance.

I can remember when I was at high school and Tetris was all the rage (ugh I'm showing my age here, I know).

Anyway the point is that I became so addicted to playing Tetris on the computer that whenever I'd close my eyes, I could see little rotating block shapes, all desperate to seamlessly fit together as they rapidly descended.

There was nothing I could do to get the blocks out of my head.

And so it is with my latest addiction - Scrabulous on Facebook. Fortunately I'm a multi-tasker, or I would never get anything else done!

As with Tetris, I'm not even particularly good at Scrabulous and yet I can't stop playing it.

And like all addictions, you feel so much better for finding someone who is just as drawn to playing it, as I did today. And so me and my 'Fabulous Scrabulous' chum have been playing game after game - reassuring one another that there really isn't anything wrong with our latest obsession.

Nothing wrong, but maybe something geeky?!

A tin can full of crazy sardines

sweet dreams
Originally uploaded by unfocused mike.

If I was so inclined, I bet I could devote every posting on this blog to stories from my daily public transport commute.

In the mornings, most of us are pre-caffeinated which says it all. And in the afternoons, we're all so world-weary that we all seem to have our ipods in, but I bet none of us could list the last 3 songs we heard.

Tonight I watched as a young guy, eyes closed, nodded in that half-sleep common amongst public transporters, as he leaned this way...and then that way...and then forwards, all the while threatening to topple over onto his adjacement passenger (who pretended not to notice, though I am sure she did).

And then there's German Lady, who has been my public transport nemesis for nearly three years. Only ever on my afternoon commute, she always pushes in front of me in the bus line, even though we both know I got there before her.

German Lady usually sits across the aisle from Crazy Hair Lady who is a) deaf as a post, and b) always sick - so you can imagine the delight my bus takes in listening to their banal chatting and constant sniffing the whole way home.

Let's not forget Young Gay Man With The Italian Handbag who (again) pushes in front of me, though this time to get off my morning bus. He is therefore ahead of me in line for a coffee. I can't decide whether to trip him, or offer him my sympathies for the way his coffee deprivation makes him such a jerk.

And of course, last but never least, is the swarm of accountants that floods my afternoon bus ride. They all seem to carry about 4 heavy bags each, and one of those bags is usually a company-issued backpack that I really hope they are obliged to tote (otherwise, why would you?).

Despite all our differences, I'm sure that if I canvassed the opinions of my fellow commuters - morning or night - we'd be united in our common frustration with bus drivers.

They jam 500 of us into a bus that is (I'm sure) only designed to carry a fraction of that amount, and then they ride their brake and accelerator all the way into the city. Except, that is, on the strech of Lakeshore Drive when the traffic lets up and they can careen at break-neck speed until they have to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting anything - or anyone.

And so we grip on for all that we can, slipping and sliding in unison, crashing into seated or standing passengers, making polite apologies and collectively rolling our eye-balls in the direction of the lovechild of Sandra Bullock & Evil Kanevil in whose very hands we have commended our lives.

But don't misunderstand me.

I'm not complaining about any of these things; quite to the contrary in fact. The only thing I really dislike about public transport in Chicago is waiting in the rain - and that's not really something that anyone can help....but until they can, I'll blame The Young Gay Man With The Italian Handbag. Just for fun.