Can Men and Women Just Be Friends?

I was going to wax poetic and weave Harry and Sally into the mix and talk about a friend and the issues he is having, but I don't think that is necessary. Call me Harry on this one, but no, men and women can't just be friends. There are too many things to get in the way.

It is funny to see me write this, since I have guy friends and have never really agreed with this opinion. However, the more I think I about it, the more I think that Harry--in a crude way--is right. The “sex thing” does get in the way. Women will say, 'but I have this friend and there have never been any feelings involved.” Really, have you checked with him lately? And let's be honest, we all have dated someone who was once "just a friend." In college there was Matt, who I hated at first (he was a self-absorbed, egomaniac), became his best friend and then fell for him hard. It was better that way. We were already close and the dating just accentuated a good thing.

And if there is no “sex thing” involved--if there is no attraction to one another at all--see what happens when one of you is in a relationship. The friendship alters. It just happens.

Men and women can be friends (for awhile), but the friendship is not the same. You can get advice from a guy about men in general, but usually they offer you such nuggets as "Men are assholes. You know that. We’re friends." Or, they will wonder why you are complaining about something the same guy has does to you for the millionth time. It goes the same for guys; women friends will offer you way more advice about a situation than you will ever want. They will want you to consider motivations and feelings and not whether she is a hot piece of ass.

The middle ground is realizing that there will be limitations to the friendship and that life events may permanently alter it. Harry and Sally may be happily married now, but it was a rough road to get there.

Why Do I Have to Word Verify?

I'd like to thank the random spammers hitting my blog with irrelevant and nonsensical posts. While I don't want to make those that read and comment (a.k.a. Jen) register and log in, I don't like getting spammed on my blog. I didn't even know people would do that.

So, for the three readers out there, I have added word verification to the site. I am now just like Ticketmaster. (Without $20 in fees) Sorry for inconvenience!!!

Cheer Cheer for Old Notre Dame

I catch a lot of grief for being a Notre Dame fan. I am a fan, because my mom used to watch the games on Saturday afternoons. She still does. I never thought that it was bad to be a Notre Dame fan until I moved to the city and learned that to most people, Notre Dame is the Yankees of college football. It doesn't help that the Fighting Irish haven't given me much reason to be proud or to cheer. (Not that I want to jinx them, but they are are looking pretty good this year).

Last weekend, they soundly beat Washington to improve their record to 3-1. The real story, though, was their first offensive play and the boy who called it. There is a great article on MSN about Montana Mazurkiewicz and Charlie Weis. I will let the story speak for itself.

http://msnbc.msn.com/id/9481684/

Dance as if no one is watching;
love as if you can't be hurt.
Sing tho' no one is listening;
live as if it's heaven on earth. Irish Proverb

I Think Those Cows Are Having Sex

As Jen and I are driving to Wisconsin, we passed a hill filled with cows. Which, for us city girls, is somewhat funny and entertaining. Anyway, as we pass this hill of cows, out of nowhere, Jen shouts, “I think those cows are having sex!” A moment passes and then I look at Jen and say, “Cows don’t have sex. They are all women.”

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Cows have sex with bulls."

Thus this conversation went the only way it could, into a debate about lesbian cows.

Thank God I Bought That Shirt At Walmart (and other stories from camping this weekend)

Where to start with the tales from this weekend? Friday night, I worked at the bar and was sober, given the antibiotics coursing through my system. I was set to head home early, so that I could get a good night's sleep and get up early for camping. Around 2 AM, my friend called. She and her boyfriend were in a car accident. They were okay (thank god), but needed a ride home. I enlisted my friend Mike to drive me and off to Schaumburg we went. When it was all said and done, I was crawling into bed at 6 AM. I would do it again in a heartbeat though. Not to sound like Dionne Warwick, but that is what friends are for.

Anyway, when my phone rang at 8:54 AM, I was less than thrilled. (When it rang at 9:09, I was even crabbier...9:20 was when I really thought that my friends liked torturing me). I did manage to pull myself together, pack some things and head out the door at a mostly reasonable hour. (My only casualties were my legs. They suffered from a pretty bad job with a razor...mental note to self: don't shave on less than 3 hours sleep).

I jumped into a cab with Jen (she was supposed to be on a bus, but the cat was running in the hallway or something). As I am climbing in, she is telling me that the Carpenters are on the radio. I am sorry to say that there was singing in the cab until we got to my car. We get out of the car, looking like the cast of Sex in the City, and load up my car for our road trip. Off we went! We drove a few miles until we stopped for coffee (for me) and Wendy's (for her).

The rest of the drive would be too hard to describe. It was simply hilarious. It was raining. Dead animal parts flew up at my car. We stopped in Janesville, WI, which has a Target, Walmart, Big Kmart and shopping mall all on top of one another. We hit the Walmart. I bought a cute top, exercise pants, some cheesy CDs, a card game, some yarn, knitting needles and some snacks. Don’t ask me why I thought I needed any of that stuff. An hour later, we were back on the road, listening to the 80s Pop CD I had bought. Hits included Jesse’s Girl, Waiting for a Star to Fall, 9 to 5, Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now and You Should Hear How She Talks About You. It was a little silly to say the least.

We made it to the campgrounds without too much trouble. The rest of Saturday was just a lot of fun--great conversation, company and food. (Little painful when I realized that one of the people we were camping with knew my classmate from high school, because she was his teacher, but what can you do?) It was nice to get away from all the craziness of the city. Late that night, it began to rain and we all retreated to our tents. I was watching the fire, to make sure that it would burn out like it should. After watching the fire a bit, I shouted to Tony (in the next tent) that he probably wanted to stomp the board, since it was going to fall out of the fire. He told me that it was going to fall into the fire. (Apparently, I was crazy). A few minutes later, I hear a crash and Tony saying, “Well, that didn’t work out as planned.” I unzipped my tent to watch him stand corrected, as he moved the burning board back into the fire.

It had rained through the night and never really felt the need to let up. We quickly broke camp and headed to a diner for breakfast. While the drive home in the rain (which I am pretty sure followed us home) sucked, it was a fun weekend. Shout out to Tony for putting it all together. Shout out to God for getting me out of the 4.52-mile hike Jen was going to make me go on – I love a rainy night...and day.

Coffee for Our Troops

A few weeks ago, my best friend Kelly's husband shipped out to Iraq for the next year and a half. She and I were talking the other day and she mentioned all the care packages she had been shipping to him. She also mentioned wanting to ship coffee to him. I let her know about a program that is sending coffee to our troops and she was able to sign up Greg for the program.

Boca Java, a coffee service based in Florida, has been doing this for a few years. They just launched a program this summer in which customers can purchase bags of coffee to be sent to our troops and they will match the donation. I thought that I would forward the information on, in case anyone was interested in participating. I have attached all of the information below.

Link to website: http://www.bocajava.com/support_the_troops.jsp?promo=TROOP_SUPPORT

Boca Java has been supporting our troops for almost two years by sending coffee abroad to our troops. They are doing a great job for us and we want to provide them with a little taste of home!

In mid-July we announced a new program, Send Coffee to our Troops, where we will allow you, our customers, to help us in sending coffee to our troops. The response has been FANTASTIC! We thank everyone who has participated.

In the spirit of making this a special project, we have set a goal of donating one million (1,000,000) cups of coffee between our July introduction and December 31, 2005. We know it is a lofty goal, but with all of your help we can do it! To formalize this, we are naming this OPERATION MILLION CUP.

For every bag of coffee you donate, Boca Java will match the donation by sending an equivalent bag of coffee.

In addition, we are providing the coffee for donation at a discounted price of $4 per 8 oz. bag. For just $4 you can send 60 cups of delicious coffee!

They do so much for us, this is a way for you and Boca Java to give something back to them together!

Have questions on our program? Click here to read our FAQ's

Know a troop stationed abroad that would like to receive some coffee? email us the name, mailing address and email address to coffeeforthetroops@bocajava.com.

Also, check out the links below for samples of the feedback we have gotten from the troops.

Bono, Will You Marry Me?

So, I admit that as a little girl there were few things that I wanted in life. I wanted to be an astronaut when I grew up. (...and train dolphins and have an orangutang...) I wanted to change my name to Julie and marry Ryne Sandberg. I wanted to be the lead singer of a band. I wanted to change the world.

I grew up in the "Just Say No," "We are the World," Hands Across America, Live Aid, Farm Aid and Band Aid generation. My parents (well, my mom, really) were wannabe hippies who listened to folk music that set out to make a difference. I followed their lead and latched on to Midnight Oil, John Mellancamp, Bruce Springsteen and U2.

U2. They were (and still are) my passion. It seemed like they wrote what I wanted to say and they believed in the world where I wanted to live. And so in my life, I have seen them as many times as I could afford.

Which brings me to Wednesday night at the United Center and the U2 Vertigo Tour. While I would never recommend seeing a concert with an ear infection, I would also never miss a chance to see my heroes on stage. They were, as always, excellent showman. Invoking passion. Invoking their message. Are they a bit preachy? Yes. But I would rather have a band that puts its money and its heart where its mouth is than a band that wallows in a sea of controversy and chaos.

The concert did not disappoint. They played their new music and mingled it with old favorites. Watching them is like watching the evolution of my life. Jen said that she was full of nostalgia watching the show. As was I, but also full of such joy at the potential life to come.

40 (words and music by U2)

I waited patiently for the Lord.
He inclined and heard my cry.
He brought me up out of the pit
Out of the miry clay.

I will sing, sing a new song.
I will sing, sing a new song.
How long to sing this song?
How long to sing this song?
How long, how long, how long
How long to sing this song?

You set my feet upon a rock
And made my footsteps firm.
Many will see, many will see and hear.

I will sing, sing a new song.
I will sing, sing a new song
I will sing, sing a new song.
I will sing, sing a new song
How long to sing this song?
How long to sing this song?
How long to sing this song?
How long to sing this song?

Paved Paradise & Put Up a Parking Lot

Call me old fashioned, but Macy's is New York and the Thanksgiving Day parade. I remember when I first went to New York. I took pictures of the 34th street sign. I shopped at the Macy's. I just wanted the experience and the bag that had the familiar logo. I bought a coffee mug as a cherished souvenir of my trip to New York and Macy's.

Marshall Field's is Chicago, the Walnut Room and whimsical Christmas windows. It is a beautiful Tiffany ceiling and a clock that has been there for a hundred years. It is my little sister, my mom and dad and I bundled up every year looking at the windows. It is the biggest Christmas tree a kid could ever imagine.

As I get older, it seems that corporations are slowly chipping away my childhood. First Venture disappeared. (Does anyone still remember Venture? We used to go to the one at Deerbrook Mall and get popcorn). Poppin Fresh became Baker's Square. My favorite bookstore as a kid, Chestnut Court, became a Gap. Slowly but surely, places of tradition seem to be disappearing. It is sad really.

Then there is Marshall Field's...I mean Macy's. Wow, that is hard to swallow. Rationally, I am sure that Macy's will be a fine store, probably better then Field's has been in years (lest we forget the Frango Mint incident of 1999). But Macy’s? Say it ain’t so. Roger Ebert wrote that changing Marshall Field’s to Macy’s would be like changing the Chicago Cubs to the Chicago Mets. Unthinkable.

Apparently, though, we are just supposed to accept it. It is for the best.

Yesterday, (Terry) “Lundgren peddled a vision of what a Field's-less future might look like: lavish new fitting rooms, keener product displays, lots of Macy's private-label merchandise, a fashion show or two.So let's see: We trade in a century-old name, one with a heritage that dates to the Chicago Fire and beyond, and what do we get--some elbow room when we try on new pants? Some deal.” (Source: David Grising, Chicago Tribune)

Thanks, Mr. Lundgren, for assuming that the thing I valued most in life was a lavish dressing room and the opportunity to buy your private label merchandise.

I’d also like to thank you for dangling the possibility of a Frango mint return. As if that nugget would make up for taking Marshall Field’s off the map.

Mayor Daley said, “Things change in life. If you’re not willing to accept change, you stay in the past.” (Source: Susan Chandler, Chicago Tribune) Thanks for coaching me through this change. Forgive me, if I find your opinion, um, worthless. Why don’t you go plow another airfield?

Ok. Enough ranting. I meant this to be nostalgic and it is shifting political. Let me just say this, in the name of profit, Macy’s has trounced tradition. That makes me sad. I just wish there was a way to have a Miracle on State Street.

Bill Murray / Weird Sounding Movies or U2?

A friend of mine and I have tried to have detox movie nights. Movie (theatre or home) and a quiet, alcohol-free night. Tomorrow was the scheduled movie night. I was supposed to be subjected to The Royal Tenenbaums and Life Aquatic. Neither movie interests me, but a friend swears by them and I was willing to give them a try. (Of course, if I hated both of them, I was ready to subject said friend--a guy--to the entire 4th Season of Felicity).

Anyway, I emailed Jen to see if she was working tomorrow night. I figured that now that we were neighbors, dinner and a movie might interest her -- especially since they were quirky, thinker's movies. She saw my "Are you working tomorrow night" as a veiled "Want to go to U2?" And sent a quick reply wondering if I had tickets. Well, I didn't and I hadn't even thought of that. But, now it was out there. Something that couldn't be taken back. U2 is in Chicago...hmm...Could we go to U2? Is it a possibility? I haven't missed a tour since the Zoo TV tour at Poplar Creek in 1993. What to do? What to do?

First, I went to the almighty Ticketmaster, to see if they had secretly released tickets, which they always do. They had -- and to both shows. After realizing that Jen had to work tonight, I knew that tomorrow was our only option. Now what? I promised a detox night with a friend and now I want to go to a crazy concert venue. I tried to think of ways to trick my friend into wanting to go to U2 instead. Turns out, I really didn't have to be stealth. Said friend dropped Bill Murray like a bad habit the minute I mentioned U2.

Now the hard part, procuring 3 tickets. Back to the evil Ticketmaster I went. Searching for tickets. Making sure that they're not behind the stage--I don't care how close you are, you are still staring at butts. Getting ready to complete the transaction...website freezes. Crap. Stupid Ticketmaster. Now what. We are all excited about this concert. Ticketmaster....don't fail us now.

I jump to the phone, hoping that I will be able to get through that way. First try...busy signal. I am convinced that everyone has figured out that there are tickets and that now, our hopes will be dashed. Second Try...success. I navigate through the bazillion options that my automated operator, Katie, presents to me...and then I get it...the confirmation number.

We are on our way to U2!!!! Can't wait!!

Recap and Review

It is Monday morning and I am sitting in the airport waiting out a delay…again. I wonder why the one flight that was on time (early) was when I was running late. I had a fun weekend with my sister. We hit Oktoberfest Saturday night. For the 3rd time in a row, I missed the Chicken Dance. This year it was led by the popular children’s television starts Uncle Willy and Windy.

Anyway, I did get to eat a lot and drink some great beers. I had a brat that can only be described by its picture, so check it out. (Insert all nasty innuendo here – we all did) My sister’s friend, BJ, put roasted almonds in our 1st beers – so we could have a sweet snack at the end of our beer. My sister also made friends with a lady, um, actually a man dressed as a lady – there is a visual needed for this one as well. There was a lot of lederhosen, chicken hats and drunken people--my kind of Saturday night.

Sunday was low-key. My sister was a little hung over, I had no voice and we were both tired. We had brunch with her boyfriend and then went to a great farmer’s market to pick up some marinated chicken. After that it was couch time and the NFL. My sister cheers for the 3 B’s – Bears, Browns and Bengals. This is what happens when you live in Ohio for 7 years. All 3 did quite well. In fact the Bears and the Bengals trounced their opponents. I believe that CNN went so far as to say that the Bears “crushed” the Detroit Lions. After marathon football, we rounded out the evening with a nice dinner among friends. The night came to a close with my sister and I hanging out on the couch watching Crossing Jordan and Law and Order.

All in all, it was a great weekend. I was glad to see my sister (bummed that I was sick). The delay was nice though, because just as she dropped me off, I called to tell her about my flight and she turned around. We had a nice breakfast (microwave breakfast sandwiches) and watched CNN and The Price is Right--strange, but true.

All's Well that Ends Well

So, I was riddled with angst in my last post and may be suffering from writer's remorse. In the grand scheme of things, I guess a five hour stint in the airport is nothing. We finally boarded the flight at 5:25 and took off about 10 minutes later. It was a nice short puddle-jumper flight of 50 minutes. I read a book I bought in the airport store, because the 2 I brought with me didn't interest me. I slept for a bit. I ate my pretzels (does anyone else miss the peanuts?) and drank my water. I tried to give the man next to me -- football player size -- as much room as I could, because the plane was not meant for him. The flight was nice.

We landed about 7:30 PM Cincinnati time. We sat in the plane for awhile waiting for the stairs to be rolled up next to the plane, which was entirely funny to watch from the plane. I de-planed, grabbed my valet bag and rolled through an empty airport to meet my sister. Getting there was not half the fun, but the drama was completely worth getting to hang with her for 2 days.

Heard in the Airport

An American Eagle employee wearing headphones and singing – if that is what you can call it—as he walked through the airport. Not sure what “song” invokes the words “mother-f’er,” “b*t%h” and a derogatory word for a homosexual that rhymes with maggot. Do love the fact that this is the song he thought he should sing out load at work. Don’t think that we will see him on this season’s American Idol.

Proud To Be On American?

This weekend is Oktoberfest in Cincinnati. When my little sister, who went to school in Cincinnati and still lives there, was a freshman in college, we went to parents weekend. It was held the same weekend as Oktoberfest (and a Bengals / Packers game, which is an entirely different story). Oktoberfest in Cincinnati is nuts. It is a lot of beer, brats, cream puffs, rubber chickens, chicken dances, chicken hats and buffoonery. I try and make the pilgrimage yearly. I was looking forward to the trip and some sister bonding time. I had been sick all week and my sister didn’t want me to drive by myself, by sheer luck, I find a cheap flight on American.

This morning, I woke up, did 2 quick loads of laundry, packed my suitcase (minus the clothes that were being washed), did the dishes, and took out the trash. I went to the laundry room to get my clothes, so that I could finish packing. One set was dry, the other drier was open and stopped and not one lick of the clothing was actually dried. I was left with 10 minutes before I need to leave, soggy underwear and no other clothes clean. I threw the soggy clothes into my suitcase and darted out the door.

I jumped on the bus to the blue line, which was slow as hell (thanks Cubs / Cardinals). Took the blue line to O’Hare and got to the airport with a little more than a half an hour to my flight. I dashed through the millions of miles of sidewalks between the conveniently located “L” and my terminal – god forbid a moving sidewalk ever work. Checked in at the terminal, hauled through security and ran to my gate, which of course was nowhere near where I had to go through security. Covered in sweat, I approached the gate as the lady was closing the door. I apologized for my delay and asked to check in. The guy (Carlos) at the gate told me after a minute that the flight was closed. I asked how that was possible since the door had just started to be closed as I was at the gate. He said that they close 10 minutes before the flight. Fair enough, but I was there before 10 minutes before the flight and I had already checked in – it wasn’t as if they weren’t expecting me. After talking about this for a few minutes, I pointed out that it was just 10 minutes before the flight now, to which a lovely (actually rude) woman held up her cell phone to show me that it was in fact 12:48 – my flight was at 12:57. Interesting that I could stand there and have a conversation with the people at the gate for several minutes and still only miss my flight by less than a minute. I would like to thank American for being completely accommodating and helpful. Oh, wait, that would be a lie. What I want to know is how I ended up on one of the only American flights running on time. Crazy.

Carlos, a.k.a Mr. Customer Service, put me on stand-by for a 4:34 PM flight. I asked if there was anything earlier on another airline. He said that I would have to talk to a supervisor at the terminal. By the way throughout all of this, the damn plane is still at the gate. Back to the terminal I go and I stand in line to talk to an agent. She tells me that the next flight is 3:45 PM on United Express, but asks me why would I bother, since there is not a big difference in time and since I would have to go standby on the other flight. Heeding her advice (she was actually nice), I kept my flight and went out to find a place to kill the next 3 hours at the airport.

I found a nice little bar, watched the first have of the ND vs. MSU game and killed time. At 3:30 PM, I headed to the gate just in case this one boarded and closed early. En route, I check the screens. Shock of all shockers, my flight’s gate has changed and it is now delayed until 5:10 PM. That is the American Airlines I know and love. Once again, I wander the airport, bored, because “G” is apparently the ghetto section of Terminal 3 and there is not a lot to do. Finally, close to 4, I decide to head over to the gate, figuring that they will start boarding in about a half an hour. Well, it is 4:43 PM, 9 minutes after the flight was supposed to leave and almost 4 hours after my original flight, and I am still sitting here. In true American fashion, we are now on our second delay. I was supposed to land in Cincinnati at 3:10 PM Eastern time. Now, I will be lucky if I am there by 8 PM. At this point the United Express flight will be landing before we board.

Banning the Wicked?

So, once again the lovely Jennifer is mad at me for my lack of posting. She’s threatened to ban the wicked (very pun-y) if I don’t start posting again. I’m sorry that I don’t post on a regular basis. Sometimes, I just don’t have anything witty to say. Now, I know that Jen’s friends – the ones nagging her to post more frequently (ironic, don’t you think) – have told her just to post whatever, but I am a neurotic perfectionist and I hate posting so-so items.

Have no fear though; this day has given me fodder for 20 different posts and then some. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but I have enough material to at least make Jen happy for a day or two.