hey ya cankle bandits, cut the pumpernickel!

These are my favorite commercials right now, except for the one for Harold and Kumar 2 which is in a similar vein, which is my ultimate favorite commercial right now but which I couldn't find during my self-alloted internet break at work.






These are completely ripped off from, and really, poor substitutes for, one of my favorite sketches by The State: a performance of a gritty tale "Tenement" with TV-friendly language:

Husband (Ken): Aren't you gonna ask how my day was?

Wife (Kerri): How was your day?

Husband: Poopie. Another poopie day. I took number two from every dum-dum in this mickey-fickey neighborhood today. Thanks for asking, dummyhead.

Wife: I'm not taking any more of your fudging bull-puckey, you cock-eyed fellow! I took it from my screwy flick of a father, and I'm not gonna take it from a poop--who's too weinerless to fight for his own stinky job!

Husband: You pineapple! You fuzzy cootie! They gave my job to fudge-eating nickel pickers, and I come home...

and on like that. LOL.

i think it's about cheekbones

There is a movie filming in our neighborhood again. I know, yawn, it happens all the time. Seriously, a number of movies have been filmed around here, but, in the words of Garth Holladay, this is a big one - not just a few moments of stock footage of the el. It's a Michael Mann piece! About a Chicago infamo-legend...



The film is actually about John Dillinger;
cheekbones are merely a silent theme, as Johnny Depp and Christian Bale
are starring. This evening, we joined the unwashed masses gathered around the set, and felt kinda dorky, but it was really fun and interesting. They created a very cool looking 30's set, covering the whole street with fake cobblestones, putting up streetlamps and fake billboards, and dressing all the extries in fedoras and fancy overcoats.

We left before any documented Bale/Depp sitings actually occurred, because we didn't really want to be around for the weird, starstuck, entitled people to start yelling at the actors as they tried to do their jobs. Not that I am above thinking it would be cool to see them actually shooting a scene - I'm so totally not. But I did get a little uncomfortable at a couple of antsy teens who wanted to yell at non-famous people to get out of the way so they could take pictures of other, possibly famous people who were sitting inside (very cool, period) cars and who definitely seemed to wish not to be photographed.

There was also an OLD SCHOOL el train going by every few minutes, with be-hatted men inside. Quite cool.

We also had a lovely dinner at Deleece, where they have a $20, 3-course, fixed price menu on Mondays and Tuesdays. I had a delicious squash tortilla soup, and disc0 had a ridiculously good set of short ribs with some kind of ranch sauce that I wanted to drink with a straw. We will be back!

LOL Chicago

It has been alternately raining and snowing today, and now our trusty weatherperson is predicting something called THUNDERSNOW.




By the hammer of Thor - as I write, I hear thunder (and see snow)!



What in the name of jacob's ladder...!

Don't Put it Out With Your Boots, Ted!

I went to the local Whole Foods market to buy some milk, pizza crust, and expensive cheese.

First, I think all of my single friends should date the cheese counter guy. He always gives me cheese samples and is generally awesome. I don't know if he dates guys or gals, so you should all try.

And Second, the checkout guy looked at my reusable grocery bags (which we use because we are responsible as shit) which looks like this (mine is pink with a yellow stripe):



and that durn whippersnapper said "OH MY GOD! That looks like something from the 80's! It reminds me of plastic pink sunglasses from the 80's! I am SO glad I wasn't born yet!" I was like...shut up, young'n.

I'll think of a good comeback tomorrow.

Yes we can...

After all my ranting and raving and posting of dead sexy singers, today I want to follow Beck's lead and post the soaring, historic speech Barack Obama gave yesterday on race and politics.



(here is the text)

"'We the people, in order to form a more perfect union.'

Two hundred and twenty one years ago, in a hall that still stands across the street, a group of men gathered and, with these simple words, launched America's improbable experiment in democracy. Farmers and scholars; statesmen and patriots who had traveled across an ocean to escape tyranny and persecution finally made real their declaration of independence at a Philadelphia convention that lasted through the spring of 1787.

The document they produced was eventually signed but ultimately unfinished. It was stained by this nation's original sin of slavery, a question that divided the colonies and brought the convention to a stalemate until the founders chose to allow the slave trade to continue for at least twenty more years, and to leave any final resolution to future generations.

Of course, the answer to the slavery question was already embedded within our Constitution - a Constitution that had at its very core the ideal of equal citizenship under the law; a Constitution that promised its people liberty, and justice, and a union that could be and should be perfected over time.

And yet words on a parchment would not be enough to deliver slaves from bondage, or provide men and women of every color and creed their full rights and obligations as citizens of the United States. What would be needed were Americans in successive generations who were willing to do their part - through protests and struggle, on the streets and in the courts, through a civil war and civil disobedience and always at great risk - to narrow that gap between the promise of our ideals and the reality of their time.

This was one of the tasks we set forth at the beginning of this campaign - to continue the long march of those who came before us, a march for a more just, more equal, more free, more caring and more prosperous America. I chose to run for the presidency at this moment in history because I believe deeply that we cannot solve the challenges of our time unless we solve them together - unless we perfect our union by understanding that we may have different stories, but we hold common hopes; that we may not look the same and we may not have come from the same place, but we all want to move in the same direction - towards a better future for our children and our grandchildren.

This belief comes from my unyielding faith in the decency and generosity of the American people. But it also comes from my own American story.

I am the son of a black man from Kenya and a white woman from Kansas. I was raised with the help of a white grandfather who survived a Depression to serve in Patton's Army during World War II and a white grandmother who worked on a bomber assembly line at Fort Leavenworth while he was overseas. I've gone to some of the best schools in America and lived in one of the world's poorest nations. I am married to a black American who carries within her the blood of slaves and slaveowners - an inheritance we pass on to our two precious daughters. I have brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, uncles and cousins, of every race and every hue, scattered across three continents, and for as long as I live, I will never forget that in no other country on Earth is my story even possible.

It's a story that hasn't made me the most conventional candidate. But it is a story that has seared into my genetic makeup the idea that this nation is more than the sum of its parts - that out of many, we are truly one.

Throughout the first year of this campaign, against all predictions to the contrary, we saw how hungry the American people were for this message of unity. Despite the temptation to view my candidacy through a purely racial lens, we won commanding victories in states with some of the whitest populations in the country. In South Carolina, where the Confederate Flag still flies, we built a powerful coalition of African Americans and white Americans.

This is not to say that race has not been an issue in the campaign. At various stages in the campaign, some commentators have deemed me either "too black" or "not black enough." We saw racial tensions bubble to the surface during the week before the South Carolina primary. The press has scoured every exit poll for the latest evidence of racial polarization, not just in terms of white and black, but black and brown as well.

And yet, it has only been in the last couple of weeks that the discussion of race in this campaign has taken a particularly divisive turn.

On one end of the spectrum, we've heard the implication that my candidacy is somehow an exercise in affirmative action; that it's based solely on the desire of wide-eyed liberals to purchase racial reconciliation on the cheap. On the other end, we've heard my former pastor, Reverend Jeremiah Wright, use incendiary language to express views that have the potential not only to widen the racial divide, but views that denigrate both the greatness and the goodness of our nation; that rightly offend white and black alike.

I have already condemned, in unequivocal terms, the statements of Reverend Wright that have caused such controversy. For some, nagging questions remain. Did I know him to be an occasionally fierce critic of American domestic and foreign policy? Of course. Did I ever hear him make remarks that could be considered controversial while I sat in church? Yes. Did I strongly disagree with many of his political views? Absolutely - just as I'm sure many of you have heard remarks from your pastors, priests, or rabbis with which you strongly disagreed.

But the remarks that have caused this recent firestorm weren't simply controversial. They weren't simply a religious leader's effort to speak out against perceived injustice. Instead, they expressed a profoundly distorted view of this country - a view that sees white racism as endemic, and that elevates what is wrong with America above all that we know is right with America; a view that sees the conflicts in the Middle East as rooted primarily in the actions of stalwart allies like Israel, instead of emanating from the perverse and hateful ideologies of radical Islam.

As such, Reverend Wright's comments were not only wrong but divisive, divisive at a time when we need unity; racially charged at a time when we need to come together to solve a set of monumental problems - two wars, a terrorist threat, a falling economy, a chronic health care crisis and potentially devastating climate change; problems that are neither black or white or Latino or Asian, but rather problems that confront us all.

Given my background, my politics, and my professed values and ideals, there will no doubt be those for whom my statements of condemnation are not enough. Why associate myself with Reverend Wright in the first place, they may ask? Why not join another church? And I confess that if all that I knew of Reverend Wright were the snippets of those sermons that have run in an endless loop on the television and You Tube, or if Trinity United Church of Christ conformed to the caricatures being peddled by some commentators, there is no doubt that I would react in much the same way

But the truth is, that isn't all that I know of the man. The man I met more than twenty years ago is a man who helped introduce me to my Christian faith, a man who spoke to me about our obligations to love one another; to care for the sick and lift up the poor. He is a man who served his country as a U.S. Marine; who has studied and lectured at some of the finest universities and seminaries in the country, and who for over thirty years led a church that serves the community by doing God's work here on Earth - by housing the homeless, ministering to the needy, providing day care services and scholarships and prison ministries, and reaching out to those suffering from HIV/AIDS.

In my first book, Dreams From My Father, I described the experience of my first service at Trinity:

'People began to shout, to rise from their seats and clap and cry out, a forceful wind carrying the reverend's voice up into the rafters....And in that single note - hope! - I heard something else; at the foot of that cross, inside the thousands of churches across the city, I imagined the stories of ordinary black people merging with the stories of David and Goliath, Moses and Pharaoh, the Christians in the lion's den, Ezekiel's field of dry bones. Those stories - of survival, and freedom, and hope - became our story, my story; the blood that had spilled was our blood, the tears our tears; until this black church, on this bright day, seemed once more a vessel carrying the story of a people into future generations and into a larger world. Our trials and triumphs became at once unique and universal, black and more than black; in chronicling our journey, the stories and songs gave us a means to reclaim memories that we didn't need to feel shame about...memories that all people might study and cherish - and with which we could start to rebuild.'

That has been my experience at Trinity. Like other predominantly black churches across the country, Trinity embodies the black community in its entirety - the doctor and the welfare mom, the model student and the former gang-banger. Like other black churches, Trinity's services are full of raucous laughter and sometimes bawdy humor. They are full of dancing, clapping, screaming and shouting that may seem jarring to the untrained ear. The church contains in full the kindness and cruelty, the fierce intelligence and the shocking ignorance, the struggles and successes, the love and yes, the bitterness and bias that make up the black experience in America.

And this helps explain, perhaps, my relationship with Reverend Wright. As imperfect as he may be, he has been like family to me. He strengthened my faith, officiated my wedding, and baptized my children. Not once in my conversations with him have I heard him talk about any ethnic group in derogatory terms, or treat whites with whom he interacted with anything but courtesy and respect. He contains within him the contradictions - the good and the bad - of the community that he has served diligently for so many years.

I can no more disown him than I can disown the black community. I can no more disown him than I can my white grandmother - a woman who helped raise me, a woman who sacrificed again and again for me, a woman who loves me as much as she loves anything in this world, but a woman who once confessed her fear of black men who passed by her on the street, and who on more than one occasion has uttered racial or ethnic stereotypes that made me cringe.

These people are a part of me. And they are a part of America, this country that I love.

Some will see this as an attempt to justify or excuse comments that are simply inexcusable. I can assure you it is not. I suppose the politically safe thing would be to move on from this episode and just hope that it fades into the woodwork. We can dismiss Reverend Wright as a crank or a demagogue, just as some have dismissed Geraldine Ferraro, in the aftermath of her recent statements, as harboring some deep-seated racial bias.

But race is an issue that I believe this nation cannot afford to ignore right now. We would be making the same mistake that Reverend Wright made in his offending sermons about America - to simplify and stereotype and amplify the negative to the point that it distorts reality.

The fact is that the comments that have been made and the issues that have surfaced over the last few weeks reflect the complexities of race in this country that we've never really worked through - a part of our union that we have yet to perfect. And if we walk away now, if we simply retreat into our respective corners, we will never be able to come together and solve challenges like health care, or education, or the need to find good jobs for every American.

Understanding this reality requires a reminder of how we arrived at this point. As William Faulkner once wrote, "The past isn't dead and buried. In fact, it isn't even past." We do not need to recite here the history of racial injustice in this country. But we do need to remind ourselves that so many of the disparities that exist in the African-American community today can be directly traced to inequalities passed on from an earlier generation that suffered under the brutal legacy of slavery and Jim Crow.

Segregated schools were, and are, inferior schools; we still haven't fixed them, fifty years after Brown v. Board of Education, and the inferior education they provided, then and now, helps explain the pervasive achievement gap between today's black and white students.

Legalized discrimination - where blacks were prevented, often through violence, from owning property, or loans were not granted to African-American business owners, or black homeowners could not access FHA mortgages, or blacks were excluded from unions, or the police force, or fire departments - meant that black families could not amass any meaningful wealth to bequeath to future generations. That history helps explain the wealth and income gap between black and white, and the concentrated pockets of poverty that persists in so many of today's urban and rural communities.

A lack of economic opportunity among black men, and the shame and frustration that came from not being able to provide for one's family, contributed to the erosion of black families - a problem that welfare policies for many years may have worsened. And the lack of basic services in so many urban black neighborhoods - parks for kids to play in, police walking the beat, regular garbage pick-up and building code enforcement - all helped create a cycle of violence, blight and neglect that continue to haunt us.

This is the reality in which Reverend Wright and other African-Americans of his generation grew up. They came of age in the late fifties and early sixties, a time when segregation was still the law of the land and opportunity was systematically constricted. What's remarkable is not how many failed in the face of discrimination, but rather how many men and women overcame the odds; how many were able to make a way out of no way for those like me who would come after them.

But for all those who scratched and clawed their way to get a piece of the American Dream, there were many who didn't make it - those who were ultimately defeated, in one way or another, by discrimination. That legacy of defeat was passed on to future generations - those young men and increasingly young women who we see standing on street corners or languishing in our prisons, without hope or prospects for the future. Even for those blacks who did make it, questions of race, and racism, continue to define their worldview in fundamental ways. For the men and women of Reverend Wright's generation, the memories of humiliation and doubt and fear have not gone away; nor has the anger and the bitterness of those years. That anger may not get expressed in public, in front of white co-workers or white friends. But it does find voice in the barbershop or around the kitchen table. At times, that anger is exploited by politicians, to gin up votes along racial lines, or to make up for a politician's own failings.

And occasionally it finds voice in the church on Sunday morning, in the pulpit and in the pews. The fact that so many people are surprised to hear that anger in some of Reverend Wright's sermons simply reminds us of the old truism that the most segregated hour in American life occurs on Sunday morning. That anger is not always productive; indeed, all too often it distracts attention from solving real problems; it keeps us from squarely facing our own complicity in our condition, and prevents the African-American community from forging the alliances it needs to bring about real change. But the anger is real; it is powerful; and to simply wish it away, to condemn it without understanding its roots, only serves to widen the chasm of misunderstanding that exists between the races.

In fact, a similar anger exists within segments of the white community. Most working- and middle-class white Americans don't feel that they have been particularly privileged by their race. Their experience is the immigrant experience - as far as they're concerned, no one's handed them anything, they've built it from scratch. They've worked hard all their lives, many times only to see their jobs shipped overseas or their pension dumped after a lifetime of labor. They are anxious about their futures, and feel their dreams slipping away; in an era of stagnant wages and global competition, opportunity comes to be seen as a zero sum game, in which your dreams come at my expense. So when they are told to bus their children to a school across town; when they hear that an African American is getting an advantage in landing a good job or a spot in a good college because of an injustice that they themselves never committed; when they're told that their fears about crime in urban neighborhoods are somehow prejudiced, resentment builds over time.

Like the anger within the black community, these resentments aren't always expressed in polite company. But they have helped shape the political landscape for at least a generation. Anger over welfare and affirmative action helped forge the Reagan Coalition. Politicians routinely exploited fears of crime for their own electoral ends. Talk show hosts and conservative commentators built entire careers unmasking bogus claims of racism while dismissing legitimate discussions of racial injustice and inequality as mere political correctness or reverse racism.

Just as black anger often proved counterproductive, so have these white resentments distracted attention from the real culprits of the middle class squeeze - a corporate culture rife with inside dealing, questionable accounting practices, and short-term greed; a Washington dominated by lobbyists and special interests; economic policies that favor the few over the many. And yet, to wish away the resentments of white Americans, to label them as misguided or even racist, without recognizing they are grounded in legitimate concerns - this too widens the racial divide, and blocks the path to understanding.

This is where we are right now. It's a racial stalemate we've been stuck in for years. Contrary to the claims of some of my critics, black and white, I have never been so naïve as to believe that we can get beyond our racial divisions in a single election cycle, or with a single candidacy - particularly a candidacy as imperfect as my own.

But I have asserted a firm conviction - a conviction rooted in my faith in God and my faith in the American people - that working together we can move beyond some of our old racial wounds, and that in fact we have no choice is we are to continue on the path of a more perfect union.

For the African-American community, that path means embracing the burdens of our past without becoming victims of our past. It means continuing to insist on a full measure of justice in every aspect of American life. But it also means binding our particular grievances - for better health care, and better schools, and better jobs - to the larger aspirations of all Americans -- the white woman struggling to break the glass ceiling, the white man whose been laid off, the immigrant trying to feed his family. And it means taking full responsibility for own lives - by demanding more from our fathers, and spending more time with our children, and reading to them, and teaching them that while they may face challenges and discrimination in their own lives, they must never succumb to despair or cynicism; they must always believe that they can write their own destiny.

Ironically, this quintessentially American - and yes, conservative - notion of self-help found frequent expression in Reverend Wright's sermons. But what my former pastor too often failed to understand is that embarking on a program of self-help also requires a belief that society can change.

The profound mistake of Reverend Wright's sermons is not that he spoke about racism in our society. It's that he spoke as if our society was static; as if no progress has been made; as if this country - a country that has made it possible for one of his own members to run for the highest office in the land and build a coalition of white and black; Latino and Asian, rich and poor, young and old -- is still irrevocably bound to a tragic past. But what we know -- what we have seen - is that America can change. That is the true genius of this nation. What we have already achieved gives us hope - the audacity to hope - for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.

In the white community, the path to a more perfect union means acknowledging that what ails the African-American community does not just exist in the minds of black people; that the legacy of discrimination - and current incidents of discrimination, while less overt than in the past - are real and must be addressed. Not just with words, but with deeds - by investing in our schools and our communities; by enforcing our civil rights laws and ensuring fairness in our criminal justice system; by providing this generation with ladders of opportunity that were unavailable for previous generations. It requires all Americans to realize that your dreams do not have to come at the expense of my dreams; that investing in the health, welfare, and education of black and brown and white children will ultimately help all of America prosper.

In the end, then, what is called for is nothing more, and nothing less, than what all the world's great religions demand - that we do unto others as we would have them do unto us. Let us be our brother's keeper, Scripture tells us. Let us be our sister's keeper. Let us find that common stake we all have in one another, and let our politics reflect that spirit as well.

For we have a choice in this country. We can accept a politics that breeds division, and conflict, and cynicism. We can tackle race only as spectacle - as we did in the OJ trial - or in the wake of tragedy, as we did in the aftermath of Katrina - or as fodder for the nightly news. We can play Reverend Wright's sermons on every channel, every day and talk about them from now until the election, and make the only question in this campaign whether or not the American people think that I somehow believe or sympathize with his most offensive words. We can pounce on some gaffe by a Hillary supporter as evidence that she's playing the race card, or we can speculate on whether white men will all flock to John McCain in the general election regardless of his policies.

We can do that.

But if we do, I can tell you that in the next election, we'll be talking about some other distraction. And then another one. And then another one. And nothing will change.

That is one option. Or, at this moment, in this election, we can come together and say, 'Not this time.' This time we want to talk about the crumbling schools that are stealing the future of black children and white children and Asian children and Hispanic children and Native American children. This time we want to reject the cynicism that tells us that these kids can't learn; that those kids who don't look like us are somebody else's problem. The children of America are not those kids, they are our kids, and we will not let them fall behind in a 21st century economy. Not this time.

This time we want to talk about how the lines in the Emergency Room are filled with whites and blacks and Hispanics who do not have health care; who don't have the power on their own to overcome the special interests in Washington, but who can take them on if we do it together.

This time we want to talk about the shuttered mills that once provided a decent life for men and women of every race, and the homes for sale that once belonged to Americans from every religion, every region, every walk of life. This time we want to talk about the fact that the real problem is not that someone who doesn't look like you might take your job; it's that the corporation you work for will ship it overseas for nothing more than a profit.

This time we want to talk about the men and women of every color and creed who serve together, and fight together, and bleed together under the same proud flag. We want to talk about how to bring them home from a war that never should've been authorized and never should've been waged, and we want to talk about how we'll show our patriotism by caring for them, and their families, and giving them the benefits they have earned.

I would not be running for President if I didn't believe with all my heart that this is what the vast majority of Americans want for this country. This union may never be perfect, but generation after generation has shown that it can always be perfected. And today, whenever I find myself feeling doubtful or cynical about this possibility, what gives me the most hope is the next generation - the young people whose attitudes and beliefs and openness to change have already made history in this election.

There is one story in particularly that I'd like to leave you with today - a story I told when I had the great honor of speaking on Dr. King's birthday at his home church, Ebenezer Baptist, in Atlanta.

There is a young, twenty-three year old white woman named Ashley Baia who organized for our campaign in Florence, South Carolina. She had been working to organize a mostly African-American community since the beginning of this campaign, and one day she was at a roundtable discussion where everyone went around telling their story and why they were there.

And Ashley said that when she was nine years old, her mother got cancer. And because she had to miss days of work, she was let go and lost her health care. They had to file for bankruptcy, and that's when Ashley decided that she had to do something to help her mom.

She knew that food was one of their most expensive costs, and so Ashley convinced her mother that what she really liked and really wanted to eat more than anything else was mustard and relish sandwiches. Because that was the cheapest way to eat.

She did this for a year until her mom got better, and she told everyone at the roundtable that the reason she joined our campaign was so that she could help the millions of other children in the country who want and need to help their parents too.

Now Ashley might have made a different choice. Perhaps somebody told her along the way that the source of her mother's problems were blacks who were on welfare and too lazy to work, or Hispanics who were coming into the country illegally. But she didn't. She sought out allies in her fight against injustice.

Anyway, Ashley finishes her story and then goes around the room and asks everyone else why they're supporting the campaign. They all have different stories and reasons. Many bring up a specific issue. And finally they come to this elderly black man who's been sitting there quietly the entire time. And Ashley asks him why he's there. And he does not bring up a specific issue. He does not say health care or the economy. He does not say education or the war. He does not say that he was there because of Barack Obama. He simply says to everyone in the room, 'I am here because of Ashley.'

'I'm here because of Ashley.' By itself, that single moment of recognition between that young white girl and that old black man is not enough. It is not enough to give health care to the sick, or jobs to the jobless, or education to our children.

But it is where we start. It is where our union grows stronger. And as so many generations have come to realize over the course of the two-hundred and twenty one years since a band of patriots signed that document in Philadelphia, that is where the perfection begins."

Hot shit.

This may be the push I needed in the "do I get an Elvis tattoo, do I not get an Elvis tattoo" debate:



The above is total escapism from what I was going to do, which is write about my crazy disgust with the media trying to rile up the terrified honkeys re: the minister at Barack Obama's church. I would link to one of the many news stories about it, but it would probably give you a headache to read about the Clinton campaign characterizing Wright's speech as "bigotry" and the National Review calling it incitement to "racial warfare." When what he actually seemed to be saying was that we live in a racist and racially injust society (true) and that our actions overseas may somehow affect our homeland security (true) and that for a long time we arrogantly thought no enemy could hurt us on our own soil (I know I thought that until 9/11, and I wish I still could). God forbid someone get pissed and point that shit out.

Oh nuts, looks like I wrote about it anyway. UGH. I don't think sexism is going to lose the nomination for Hillary (although sexism sure isn't doing her any favors - I would have posted Tracy Morgan's great rebuttal to Tina Fey's pro-Hillary rant on SNL but does everyone who doesn't like her have to call her a bitch?!) but I think racism may lose it for Obama. Geraldine Ferraro should get a really unpleasant papercut next time she signs a Fox News contract.

Go back up to the top and watch the beautiful men sing. It lowers the blood pressure slightly.

Bored at work?

I changed my whole layout - I like big stars on things. I was going to make it a blue star to match my tatt, but there's something I like about the pink. Also the blue they had was the wrong color and I don't know html, so pink it is. Yay.

That means I lost some of my links - if I you're not on my links list any more, it's cause I'm naughty by nature* not cause I hate ya. Just remind me if you don't mind!

On to the business at hand - talking about food.

I made my first trek over to Devon Ave. last night for an Indo-Pakistani feast set up by a couple of people who work where I work. We ate at Bhabi's Kitchen, and I probably can't do justice to the food with my mere, clumsy words. It was out of this world. I didn't catch the names of most of the dishes because there were 20 of us, so it was just a fixed price feast where they brought out giant bowls of food and told us "eggplant" or "chicken" or "beef with three types of lentils." It was all amazing (I didn't try the beef, because of my no beef eating thing; but I did try the sauce on the beef, because I am a charlatan, and it was delicious too). The best part (and it's hard to choose a best part) was probably the pistachio bread, topped with powdered sugar. It tasted like ungreasy funnel cake, and was absolutely divine when smothered in the savory coconut-peanut sauce in which the eggplant dish was served. The samosas were the best I've ever had, and the tamarind chutney (arguably my favorite part of many Indian meals) was just wonderful.

Bhabi's, like many of Chicago's best restaurants, is BYOB. The price was really good for the quality and amount of food.

I will be back to Bhabi's ASAP! Expect to be brought here if you like Indian food and come visit me!

*which here means ditzier than a gnat

UGH...Geraldine...ugh

Ms. ABB said it much better than I could...

Dear Geraldine...

Go on and speak then!

And Keith Olbermann didn't do such a shabby job either:

Kieth Olbermann on Ferraro

The Showgirl Must Go On

Getting ready for a BIG St. Patrick's weekend with our friends pinknupin and a WHOLE WEEK OF VACATION back home - yay!

There have been a few good Chicago and non-Chicago activities mixed in with all the preparations for leaving town...

• Went to Vegas to see Bette Midler at Caeser's Palace with the extended fam!



• Ate more delicious meals at Uncommon Ground, Fiddlehead, and Home Bistro



• Saw the Pogues perform at the Riviera in Uptown




I love the music alot, but to be honest his level of intoxication went from fun n' crazy to depressing pretty fast. This video is 20 years old, and from his appearance at the concert I believe he has been ingesting only alcohol from that night until today. I guess he's living his dream.


• We are planning to attend an amazing vegetarian Indo-Pakistani feast at Bhabi's Kitchen later this week (YUM!)

* * *

Also, I try not to be too horribly divisive on here w/r/t politics, so if you really love Hillary Clinton and also really love me, you don't have to read any further because I really love you but I do not really love Hillary Clinton.

COME ON - DON'T BE RIDICULOUS:

Just kidding, Obama's NOT cut out to be VP - unless it helps me get elected - please do not pay attention to the figure behind the curtain

Look - the level of sexism that the media and just generally the country have injected into this nomination contest is revolting. Just read a few comments to the linked article and you'll see more of the same: appalling stereotyping and ludicrous expectations of women in general and women in politics in particular.
But that doesn't mean that Hillary is a good candidate - it doesn't even mean that she is OK.

I really don't think she's OK. If she wins the nomination, I know that I am going to have to talk myself out of staying in the house on November whateveritis, and that it's going to take all of my strength and ALL of my disgust with and fear of McCain to get me to drag my beautiful buns to the polling place and vote for her. Her campaign has irritated me, aggravated me, and at times (almost every time she or Bill brought up race, and when she full on mocked the idea that Americans should have hope for a better future) infuriated me, but now I am out and out disturbed by it. It just doesn't make sense, y'all.

And not to rub it in, but I liked Obama's response to all the "dream ticket" nonsense. In fact his response seems to have triggered the incomprehensible 'counterpoint' from the Clinton campaign in my first link. Clinton and her people seem to be constantly stymied by measured and reasonable statements.

V-Day

I spent part of my V-day afternoon observing at the domestic violence court in Chicago. It's the only court of its kind in the country, to my knowledge - it was structured to be victim-focused, and the judge I saw was amazing and considerate. I don't want to say anything about the specifics of what I saw and heard, but suffice it to say that I was reminded of the constant stream of victims who, every day, must seek protection from the abusers who terrorize them.



Chicago Abused Women Coalition

National Domestic Violence Helpline

National Coalition Against Domestic Violence

Domestic Violence Hotlines and Resources

The Mayor's Office on Domestic Violence

Indubitably, my good man!

Last night disc0 and I had a good old fashioned GAME NIGHT! It was cold-ish, but we walked over to Guthrie's Tavern in Wrigleysville. Guthrie's is one of the first places I ever visited in Chicago, back in the summer of aught five. It's even more fun in the winter, because of the warm-up drinks and the way the front windows get all frosty as the crowds pile in to the bar. And I seriously can't explain how awesome it is that bars are non-smoking now all over the city.

We had yummy drinks: hot toddies to warm up, and then delicious Left Hand Milkstout Beer (mmmm...beer). They don't serve much in the way of food at Guthrie's, but they have a big old pail of delivery menus! I love this concept, and Chicago bars are all about it. So we ordered a pan pizza from D'agostinos. FYI, and as we learned last night, a pan pizza is not in fact a hand tossed pizza, but instead it is a stuffed pizza with slightly less cheese - a healthy choice. (not.) Anyway, the food from outside and the drinks from inside were yummo.

The best part about Guthrie's is their fully stocked game cabinet. We started off with Stratego (it's kind of boring and violent and disc0 won - boo) then we played a couple of games of Ticket to Ride! I had never played before, but heard all about it from Beck and Gar. That game is much fun and has trains in it, which makes it even better.

Yay for game night!

Society Pages

Disc0 and I are finally in the society pages! Specifically, the Click! photo gallery of the Chicago Free Press. We were snapped by a roving photog as we milled about the lobby of the Equality Illinois Justice for All Gala. Today we picked up a paper and there we were. De-lish!

and Mama cooked the breakfast with no hog

Last night, disc0 and I attended Equality Illinois' Justice for All Gala. The law firm I work for was a sponsor of the event, so a number of lawyers, paralegals, and significant others got to sit at the firm table. There were over 1500 people in attendance. The speakers were inspired and inspiring. The lifetime achievement award recipient was a pastor from a Methodist church in our neighborhood who almost lost his position with the church because he insists on providing pre-marital counseling and holy union ceremonies for same sex couples. He lives the work of anti-racism, anti-sexism, anti-heterosexism, and in his short speech reminded the crowd that we must insist on celebration, not just tolerance.

The whole evening really fed my soul.

I have been ramping up my efforts to get tapped in to the progressive and public interest community here in Chicago. I miss being around activists and lobbyists and public interest lawyers. I have met some great people in the last few weeks, including last night - by chance, we ended up sitting next to a couple who has been involved in Equality Illinois since the beginning of the organization, and we got along famously, with promises to get together again soon. It was also just wonderful to see all of the candidates who attended the gala, because they know that equality matters to so many Illinois voters. Speaking at one point about ENDA, the Equality Illinois executive director said, "last year, we got anti-discrimination protection for sexual orientation and gender identity passed in Peoria. If gender identity plays in Peoria, there is no reason it shouldn't play in Washington, DC." I can't wait to become more educated about the reality of state politics here, but for the moment it is exhilarating not to be disillusioned.



In other exciting news, I was a huge dork and introduced myself to one of the brilliant women of Gayco as she bopped around on the dance floor. The whole situation was super awkward, but fun (like me). Watch for me describing my VIP passes to all Gayco shows in future blogs.

Disc0 and I also picked up some snazzy items at the silent auction: a package of coupons and offers from different businesses in Andersonville; a bunch of tickets to different historical sites and tours around the city; and a weekend getaway at a little rustic cabin called "Wisdom Ridge" outside of Galena, IL. They don't have a website because they don't have electricity or plumbing. Being stubborn, I still scoured the brochure trying to find information on their spa packages - no dice. Seriously though, I am excited about this one. Contrary to popular belief, I do enjoy camping on occasion (I camped out in a tent in the Namib Desert, where jackals tried to steal our food; I am only partly as boujie as I look). I'm thinking we'll hit it up in April when we can still make use of the wood burning fireplace and there won't be too many biting bugs, but we also won't freeze to death. I'm not boujie, I'm just practical.

For now, I will tide myself over with Andersonville coupons...

REALLY, DENNIS KUCINICH??!

He let Larry Flynt stump for him.

This makes me glad I didn't vote for his ass in 2004.

If I hadn't just made such a delicious dinner (vegan teriyaki almond tofu), this would have made me throw up in my mouth a little bit.

Three, three, three posts in one

There are so many fabu restaurants I've been to in the last few weeks, but I have not been good about reviewing! How do I expect all of you, my friends and family and loyal blog readers, to move to Chicago to be my neighbors if I don't sell it hardcore?

FIRST: Home Bistro! They have two starters that I tend to always make my meal. Houloumi cheese (much like saganaki), and OMG almond-stuffed dates wrapped in bacon and baked with brown sugar. This is what, in fact, we ate tonight (Disc0 ordered some wild boar snausages - yummo). HB is our favorite restaurant of the moment. They also have amazing desserts, including cupcake flights and bread pudding. Nom nom nom nom...

NEXT: Joey's Brickhouse! We never used to go here because it is just slightly farther west on Belmont from our house than Cooper's. I mean like half a block farther west. But Cooper's is so good that we just never went past it. Well one night Cooper's was full, and Joey's was there to save us (it was after we caught a Gayco show at the annual Sketch Comedy festival...yeah, that happens in our neighborhood. No big deal.) Anyway, they have the cutest, quirkiest menu I've seen yet. (Hey, I love cute n' quirky - I LOL'd when Juno said "thanks a heap coyote ugly but this saguaro stings worse than your abandonment." anyway.) The food is also awesome (duh) and they have the best cocktail list ever - I had something with all of my favorite sugary treats in it such as bailey's, frangelico, kahlua, probably some caramel sauce, I don't know - it was fantastic - and there were a bunch of theater people from the sketchfest eating there too!

THEN: Hamburger Mary's! This Andersonville spot is where I come for all my red meat (Buffalo burgers)! Everything else on the menu, including the fatty fat salads, look great, but so far we've only gone for the burgers. And they are damn fine. The whole vibe is super kitschy, e.g. they give you your check in a giant high heeled shoe, and there is always a cute movie playing on the TVs (last time it was the Wizard of Oz). They have karaoke on Thursdays and I have to check it out as soon as possible (though my "HAVE to check out their Thursday karaoke night" list is growing longer by the day.)

LAST BUT NOT LEAST: Fiddlehead Cafe! This is an amazing wine and cheese joint in southern Lincoln Square; it's so good at wine and cheese that it has no business making such delicious entrees and desserts, too. Each of us had a different red wine flight (delicious and well-matched) and shared the Spanish cheese flight. Seriously, FYI you guys, I shouldn't type, talk, or think about the cheese flight right now or I might get in the car, drive to Fiddlehead, and force them to sell it to me. And that's not safe because the driveway is icy and I will almost certainly hit one or more of my neighbor's cars. By the way, I also just went ahead and ordered a hunk of cheese for dessert because the cheeses were so delicious.

All four of these places have EXTREMELY friendly and helpful servers. HB is the homiest, Joey's is the quirkiest, Mary's is the kitschiest, and Fiddlehead is the most refined and cheesiest (in a very, very good way). I didn't want you to think the cold has kept us from enjoying the country's best restaurant scene (i.e. Near North Chicago).

Speaking of cold, it was 36 degrees today, and it felt balmy. I took a bit of a walk to meet a friend for a movie, and I had to take off my hat and unzip my jacket to stave off uncomfortable warmth. I am now...a seasoned midwesterner! There are rumblings that there may be two weeks of snow storms in our future, and I hope it's true. It's been quite a snowy winter and I absolutely love it. It makes the cold so much more bearable when all that pretty is just falling from the sky.

Is not Chicago; is a pointless entry

This entry doesn't have much to do with how awesome Chicago is (it's still awesome, don't worry) but I have a microphone and you will listen to every damn word I have to say.

Last night, disc0f and I played Rock Band for the first time. Our friends the Saunderseses had us over for a DELICIOUS dinner and then invited us down to their really cool Rec Room (it is in every way a rec room, and that rocks) to play the game. I was the singer. I totally started off humble and by the end of the night I was throwing bottles of Jack Daniels at the bass player's head from a half-prone position on a groupie's lap.

It's the best game ever! I can't wait to get it--there are great songs on the game but you can also DOWNLOAD songs, including Radiohead, Weezer, and a whole Bowie Pack. This might turn me in to a "gamer."

I'm also almost done buying my outfit for Yahootie!'s wedding! This is essential since it's only four months away. It has made me a little bit nostalgic because it reminds me that I used to have the Most Perfect and Fabulous Dress of All Time. It was a black, pull-on, stretch silk, sleeveless, cowlneck number that I bought on Girlshop (R.I.P, Girlshop.com). (FYI, note that Mindy Kaling's shopping blog is now on my links page. I just found out about it last night, and I adore it. Even though it reminds my of my glory days of really out of control consumerism. R.I.P., Tubesy's really out of control consumerism.)

So the Most Perfect and Fabulous Dress of All Time would have been absolutely effing perfect for B & G's wedding. But I realized in law school (during a musical fashion montage) that it doesn't technically fit over my ass anymore. I'm not going to mourn my old 100-lb frame, because that wasn't the best look, but I will mourn the dress and the way I looked and felt in it the 18,000 times I wore it. Despite my growing out of it I was keeping the MPAFDOAT around because, with strategic placement of my Vintage Leopord Print Half Slip of Awesomeness, I could fashion a pretty fun look. Not wedding wear mind you, but I liked having it around. Now the MPAFDOAT is missing. It may not have made it all the way to Chicago, and perhaps I should take this as a portent of maturity - because I found a Grown Up Version (e.g., it has a lining and a zipper, and it covers my ass) of the MPAFDOAT, and it is the Grown Up Version that I'll wear to the wedding. Grown up versions things are great, but I still miss the original. The fact that I found some Christian Louboutin knock-offs on Zappos helps a little:



All I know is I am NOT letting my kick ass camo-lined combat boots slip away. Disc0 loves them, and that's a great sign, because I do too even though certain friends and hangers-on have been trying to make me get rid of them since I was 23.

Ahh memories...memories of clothes.

What the French Toast?!

So I will admit that I've gotten a little bit cocky about my ability to handle the ol' Midwestern Winter. You may remember my post on long johns a while back.

For the most part, the cold really hasn't bothered me. Often it comes with pretty snow showers. Long johns really do make the trip to and from the train quite managable, and furthermore I've always been a sci-fi, nerdy...indoor kid, so not being able to jog, or yog, whatever you outdoor types do, has not been a major impediment.

But the elevator TV (have you heard of these things? Captivate Networks? The name is horribly, unabashadly appropriate), which shows the weekend forecast, listed the high/low for this coming Saturday as "4/3." This is what I did when I saw the figure: (sorry-I really do love that scene).

Anyhoo, my point is that 4/3 is just not an appropriate amount of degrees. I'll let you know how it goes, because we have a dinner engagement on Saturday night. We may have to abandon our commitment to public transportation for the evening and take advantage of what we really paid for when we bought our condo--the garage. The Chicago Tribune had some scare tactic pictures of frostbitten appendanges on their website today and I am not trying to get in on that.

ruh roh

There are now outtakes from "The Landlord" on http://www.funnyordie.com. This is my favorite internet video content of the year. Why yes, I am having an attack of baby hormones, why do you ask?

Here is the original:



And here are the outtakes:



Well now that you're done watching that, I write a little...

I spent last weekend in sunny Atlanta, at the bridal shower of one of my best and dearest friends, Becky of Yahootie! It was so, so good to see Beck and many of the other fabulous women I know and love from the Dirty Dirty South. And I got to MEET a bunch of new friends too! Now all I have to do is convince them all to move to Chicago, and the circle will be complete...

Seriously though, I really miss having my closest friends CLOSE to me. From Charlottesville to Indiana to Atlanta and back to Charlottesville, I have always had amazing women around me who inspire me and make me feel at home. I know that they will be around forever, and I love that so much and am so lucky to have them, and I cherish the opportunities to see my girls when I can. BUT I know that I need to meet some fabulous, progressive, feminist girlfriends here in my new home. I know they are out there and I'm trying to make some changes so I can find them easier. I need my friends from afar and I need some here, too!

(and then, when my friends from afar move to Chicago, I will introduce you all and it will be a hell of a party.)

For now, there are a number of high-spirited (AKA drunk) men in my living room and I have to escort them to Sheffield's before they get deep-dish pizza all over my good couch!

Broadway in Chicago

We both have a couple of days off for New Years...so I can blog about it! Yay.

Disc0 took me to see Phantom of the Opera for Christmas!



It was fantastic! I haven't been to see a Broadway show in a number of years, but if I remember correctly tourists had stopped dressing up for the theater...not in Chicago. Everyone looked fabulous, including the 12 or so year old boy in a tuxedo.

I love Phantom of the Opera. I love Andrew Lloyd Webber and his crazy synthesizers that pop up out of nowhere in what is otherwise quite an operatic show. The actors were wonderful--and this was maybe the understudies, since it was Sunday night. Sarah Lawrence was pretty much perfect as Christine, Raul (Sean MacLaughlin) was a wonderful singer and HOT (totes important in this show) and the Phantom (Stephen Tewksbury) had a beautiful voice and was fantastically tortured. I did not feel like I was watching regional theater, you guys. Bless his heart, disc0 missed the big game to take me to the show.

It is New Year's Eve and we're going to have New Year's Eve dinner at Uncommon Ground...and it's snowing which means (a) it is pretty out there and (b) it isn't as cold as balls. Yet.



Happy New Year!

I wanted the news, not the weather

The weather was fine! I found out that the key to living comfortably at any temperature is: LONG JOHNS! Long johns are the bomb. I felt great today waiting for the el, and walking to my building! Yay long johns!



What in the name of Superfudge did I do without them before?!

Also it's supposed to snow tomorrow and that's fantastic!