The Un-cooler Than You Blog

Last night, I was living my 15 year old dream of what my 'grownup' life would be like. Ah, yes, there I was, reclining on a red couch, drinking a glass of merlot, watching a Morrissey concert video TiVoed from the Logo Channel (OK, maybe I didn't see into the future to know there would be a gay cable channel, but cut me some slack.) Yup, that's it - the perfect evening. But if you, oh three readers, could only know what pleasure that 90 minutes brought me, you'd understand. Oh yeah, my husband was there, too - in the kitchen, making dinner, kicking ass - something the 15 year old me didn't really think about in 1988, since boys were pretty icky to me then. Only "celibate" pouters for me at 15. Oh Mozz, I'll always love you in that imaginary gay boyfriend way. Sigh.

After that blissful event, Scratch & I watched a Mitch Hedberg DVD. Mitch Hedberg, the "Kurt Cobain of Comedy." Well, I think he was a funny guy, mostly because he reminds me of the kind of guys I went to high school with - but over 30 minutes of him is a little tedious, just like with any comedian. Scratch, being the awesome husband he is, thinks that he and I are funnier. Which leads me into my new mild interest in starting a stand up act. Too bad there is nowhere to do the stand up except in my living room. Wanna come over and feed my addiction to be validated? We'll provide snacks. But seriously folks, what happened to all the bad open mic comedy nights? Am I about 2 years too late here?

Otherwise they would know that I'm already a ticking timebomb of fury today!

A few weeks ago, Scratch & I decided to donate to Chicago Public Radio. We listen to it, a friend of ours works there, it's nice, non-yelling radio, etc. So we pledged. I won't disclose how much because it's tacky, but let's just say, we live in a small apartment, both work, and Scratch is in grad school, so we don't have much.

In thanks for joining the CPR community, in addition to our free gift, I received this email today:

Dear Marguerite,
As I write this note, our end-of-year ticker reads $680,656 to go by midnight on Wednesday August 31. We’ve made incredible progress in the past few weeks closing that funding gap to pay for all of our programming for the year. Tens of thousands of listeners brought us this far by contributing whatever they could.
To insure we end the year with all the bills paid, we’ve planned 40 hours of on-air fundraising over the next few days. We hope we won’t need them all. And that’s where you come in.
There’s a little extra reward for your assistance in this final push.
Time Out Chicago is giving every E-Update subscriber who makes a contribution of any amount before the end of the day tomorrow a FREE eight-week subscription to the magazine. It’s a fantastic weekly guide to events, activities and culture in and around Chicago. Time Out Chicago is the where-to-go what-to-do weekly.

And… you’ll be automatically entered in the drawing for a 2006 Toyota Prius hybrid donated to the cause by our friends at Grossinger City Toyota and Grossinger Toyota North in Lincolnwood.

Or call anytime after 6 a.m. tomorrow (Friday) at 877.366.8924 (that’s 877.DON’T.WAIT)
There are three ways you can help right now.
>>Join, renew or give just a little extra to push us further toward that goal.>>Forward this message to your friends who listen to the station.>>Show your Chicago Public Radio gear around town this weekend. Pull out your shirts, hats, chairs, mugs, bags, whatever you’ve got. Let’s keep the station top-of-mind.
We are grateful to everyone who already participated in this summer campaign. We don’t take your voluntary participation in “free” public radio for granted.
Now, let’s work together to end this year free and clear of bills, and end it many hours before that midnight deadline next Wednesday.
Sincerely,

Wendy TurnerE-Update Editor and On-Air Fundraiserwturner@chicagopublicradio.org

So, the message I am taking from this is: WHY DON'T YOU GIVE US MORE??? WE WANT MORE!!!! YOUR DONATION SUCKED!!!!!!!!! MAKE UP FOR IT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!

Maybe I'm overreacting - but heck, LifeSource waits 8 weeks before hitting me up for more blood - maybe CPR could hold off until the check goes through?

Warning - I say the "F" word in here a lot. Please don't tell my mom on me, or tell your mom, OK?

So, Justin wrote about the Lakeview Lounge closing down. I didn't know that, but hey, it's about time. He even posted a link to some pictures, in case you never got to see NightWatch in action.

Across the street, it's a bank now - but that used to be the Plantation Steak House, owned by the DiMartino brothers. My grandmother was a waitress there. My mom and dad met there. Pretty much every pizza we ordered (the "Broadway" pizza!) was from there. It kicked the LL's ASS, and back then, in the 70's, the LL was a complete and utter shithole. And back then, shitholes weren't cool or hip.

Then, about 5 years ago, a friend of mine wanted me to go with him to the Lakeview Lounge. I was all 'Huh?' since I was pretty sure that the LL was turf that didn't belong to me. Yet, there was a bunch of hipster assholes thinking they were beyond cool for hanging out and disrupting the regular bar of a bunch of old Uptown drunks. I was pretty disgusted. This was their turf. It's not the playground. People there were all "ooooh, it's so dirty and urban." FUCK YOU, people from the suburbs or small-towns who move here to go to art school. Everyone was doing just fine without you and your irony laden Friday nights.

I was totally thrilled when the management got wise and started overcharging these jerks for drinks. Hey, you wanna go look at animals in the urban zoo, you gotta pay admission. I also hope that the owner(s) got assloads of money for the building, where soulless condos will be built, displacing the people who have lived in Uptown for years to get affordable studio apartments near the train. Fuck you condo lovers. Respect someone else's turf.

Which reminds me of a story. There used to be another bar in Uptown that was primarily frequented by Native Americans. There were so many fights there, people just called it the "Bucket of Blood." So, it got torn down right? And the regulars, they were so bummed out and had no place to go - they would buy beers and go sit in the rubble and drink. And fight! I'll bet none of you urban pioneers are cool enough to do that. So, Justin, thanks for making my blood boil about this issue. I'm glad it won't be one anymore!

This story is for all the bloggin' moms who are tearing their hair out until the kids are back in school. Next year, instead of dropping the kids off at Great America for a day of relief, consider sending them downtown to rob law students. You might get an iPod out of it!

Chicago Tribune | Law student critical after Loop beating

I want to blog about work, but there was this big article in the Trib about how you shouldn't blog about work or you could get Fi-rrrred. But I think I'm safe in listing my dream careers:

• TV Critic
• TV Writer (but just punch-ups, it's way easier to make someone else's stuff funny than have to come up with stuff yourself, see "tv critic" above.)
• Book Reader (not a critic, just someone who gets paid to read)
• Professional Talk Show Guest / Fill-in Talk Show Host
• Famous Actress

Funny - when I was a kid, my dream careers involved a lot more schooling and work (veternarian, scientist, serious actress) than my current aspirations. Ah, someday. For now, I will just keep doing my current job for as long as possible.

My "dream weekend" involves staying in my pajamas all day, watching Kids In The Hall DVDs, and eating lots of mismatched food (bowl of Cheerios, followed by stuffed eggplant, or something.) Somehow, ever since Scratch & I moved in together, that weekend is just completely unattainable. It's always going to the store, visiting the in-laws, or me going to my mom's to do our laundry for the week while Scratch cooks something elaborate. We're not what you would call "go-getters" but we just can't really be lazy either.

We are both usually bummed out about this - we're busy all weekend, but not with anything fun. Well, this past weekend was a doozy:

Friday Night: We went to Spyner's with some friends for karaoke! Wheee! It was a fun crowd that you could never quite put your finger on. I kicked ass on one song (Because the Night) and stunk up the joint on two (Island in the Sun, Take Me With U) - but enough about me, here are the karaoke highlights of strangers:

• Dude who sang "Wanted: Dead or Alive" and, after blowing the roof off the joint, was dragged out by his girlfried ("come on, we have to go home!")
• Award for the worst use of a truly huge karaoke selection: The drama club chick who went up in her Spamalot t-shirt to sing "Gethsemane" from Jesus Christ, Superstar. No. Don't do that! Just because it's on the list, doesn't mean everyone can sing that song! The worst part is how serious she was about it - that made it somehow more creepy.
• The Song All Guys Want To Do: Devil Went Down to Georgia. While some dude was doing it, Spamalot and a completely hammered chick from another group did some kind of clogging dance. It was weird.

Then we woke up on Saturday and went to see Body Worlds! Which was awesome. Except for one thing: Touchers. Not kids, mind you. Upper-middle-classy looking white people were touching the bodies! Stop touching! It's not cool! You are not above the law of "Please do not touch!" As Scratch pointed out, they are not my bodies, so I shouldn't have gotten so bent out of shape about it, but come on! Let's try to keep things out of glass cases!

Saturday night, we went to a Pampered Chef party! Wow, we are such snobs. We were all pissed that PC doesn't carry a potato ricer. Then we mocked the heck out of it, but since it was my sister's party, we bought crap (a thermometer, a tart pan, and something else.)

Sunday, I gave blood in the morning, then did some laundry at Mama's, while Scratch was fixing a huge gourmet feast for my aunt's birthday. Then we all feasted. Then I watched Six Feet Under and couldn't sleep because I thought burgulars were going to break into the apartment, and we wouldn't hear them because the air conditioner in our bedroom is so f-ing loud and crazy sounding. Then I had nightmares about the neighborhood hating us because of our loud air conditioner, and this morning, after I woke up, I actually CHECKED to see if a neighbor had slid a note under our door saying she hates us like in the dream. There was no note (phew!) but I'm still worried about it.

So, maybe next Saturday morning we'll have nothing to do. That would be cool!