Retroactive...

I have been blog absent the last few days and I apologize. Blame it on the 40 people in my house for my Christmas party. Blame it on having to write an end of the year performance evaluation. Blame it on the basso nova. My brain was fried and I was without anything witty to say. Thus, this entry is just random things that have happened to me or popped into my head in the last week. (In no particular order).

Every time you utter the phrase, “I am done with all my Christmas shopping,” you realize you have one more present to buy.

I finished my Christmas cards this week. In a few of them, I really wanted to write a “Sorry you spouse cheated on you and is slowly and painfully breaking up the family; hope you have a Merry Christmas anyway card.” Pretty sure my Italian Aunt would have killed me, then died of heartbreak, all while my grandmother was rolling over in her grave. Still, I really wish I had the nerve to send it.

Non-repliers. Annoying. One of my biggest pet peeves in the non-responder to email. I’m not talking about the jokes that have been forwarded – because responding to those would get annoying. I am talking about actual notes that people write. I think it is rude to blow them off.

Side Note - I started this entry on December 20 - why I didn't finish it, I have no idea. I am changing the date and posting it. I am playing catch up big time. A few more entries and my absence will make sense - I promise.

Just Call Me Angel In the Morning

Again, another entry started and never finished. What was that they say about the road to hell?

So the rush of the holidays is over and my sister and I are sitting in the "guest" room getting ready to go shopping. Yeah, we are those people. We like to shop the day after Thanksgiving and the day after Christmas. (Actually, I think my sister would shop any day of the year!)

Christmas was a lot of fun - and that is the understatement of the century. My sister picked me up on Saturday and we ran a few errands on our way to my parents. We got there and I was a one-woman Christmas organization machine. My mom was stressing out (a family tradition) and we kept having to remind her that this was Christmas Eve-Eve. We all showered and dressed for church - yes, my mom insisted that we double dip and go twice this weekend. We were running a bit late (okay, twenty minutes late), but we wanted to leave straight from church to go downtown. 20 minutes by Catholic standards is bad, but not horrible. In a holiday season, it is usually at the 2nd reading or so. Maybe the Gospel, but nothing more. My church rule is if we see parts of both halves of the mass, you are good to go. Well, wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles (and after I got finished saying, "wouldn't it be funny, if mass was half over?"), we walked in at the consecration. Mom was not too happy with us.

After church, we headed downtown. We stopped at Chriskindlemartket, which lost a little bit of its luster this year. I don't know why, but there was something missing. It might have had something to do with the woman refusing to sell me the souvenir mug - the one that I buy every year to commemorate the trip to the market. She was worried about selling out of the Glogg. Really? I have had the Glogg there and I wouldn't have worried.

We went to Macy's to see the tree and look at the windows. I will say that the tree was as beautiful as is every year. The windows were nice. The inside of the store looks like a glorified Target. Macy's has a long way to go to impress me - at least when it comes to their State Street Store.

After dinner, my dad let me drive home - a rarity for me these days. I can wholeheartedly say that I learned two things that night: I am not good with SUV's and you should never take an SUV (when you are not good at them) in the Express Lanes. I was glad to get home.

Christmas Eve was lovely - all my favorite foods. Christmas Morning was amazing. I got a video Ipod, which was not anything I thought I would get. It was a true and wonderful surprise. I love it. I loved watching my dad in his robe in the living room playing with the radio controlled helicopter we bought him. (Sorry Mom). I loved that my mom and sister liked their presents - though given the extravagance of my gift, I wish I had gone overboard for them.

All in all, it was a perfect few days. I am excited to get my shopping shoes on and hit the sales racks...

All I Want for Christmas Is You (and a Few Inches of Snow)

Last weekend was my Christmas party and it was beyond fun. It is the one time around the holidays where my friends all gather (outside the bar) and we are festive and merry. We all dress up in our holiday best(and by that I mean, guys were jeans and perhaps a nicer shirt and the girls invoke silvers and reds and shimmery colors)and enjoy winter cocktails. We had a white elephant (which gets better/worse by the year). It is the party that everyone wants to be at - and I am not saying that because it is at my house - I am saying that because we are all bar people and it is the night that many take off and instead of serving, we are sipping and enjoying. That is a rare treat in the Thanksgiving to New Year's holiday bonanza.

The one thing missing from the Christmas Party this year was Mistletoe. Weird, I know, but every year I buy Mistletoe and hang it in my doorframes. It is something that my mom always did when we were younger and it is a tradition that stuck with me. It doesn't really matter, because this party isn't really a hooking up kind of event, but still, I think the Mistletoe adds the hint of promise. Mistletoe always seemed to evoke the magic of Christmas.

I know that no one but me knew that it was missing, but I missed having that speculation of all that is to come. In hind sight, I wished that I had remembered it.

And You Give Yourself Away

This is going to be a quick one, as there are a 101 other things I should be doing with my time. I just wanted to take a moment and kvetch about one of my biggest pet peeves....

Okay. Hilarious. I started this blog last week and apparently, I really did have 101 things going on, because it stopped right there. Sheesh. Now I just have to narrow it down and try and remember my biggest pet peeve.

Couldn't have been that big, since I am drawing a blank. I will say that I am getting annoyed with people's unfounded insecurity, people who butt their nose into things and make snap judgements without any information, people who are rude in the holiday season and the general ickiness of the rain that keeps falling in Chicago. It is putting a damper on my Christmas season.

All I want for Christmas is World Peace; My friends and family to enjoy the gifts that I am giving them; a little bit of snow; and the general decency of humanity to come out.

Oh, and I want to ride the holiday L, because while I agree with Jenny that a holiday bus might be a bit too much, I think the CTA owes all of Chicago a ride on the Santa L. I want a little Christmas caroling and a candy cane, especially if it is going to go through slow zones for the 100th time this year.

PS I think this is an ironic title. I was going for something with it - I just know it.

In The Next Room

This one is a quick post. I am obsessed in a big-hair-loving kind of way with the Lips Of An Angel by Hinder. Love it and all its Monster Ballad beauty.

What I want to know is if you think you are the girl in the next room or the one on the phone? And Why?!?

Baby, It's (not so) Cold Outside

Aside from watching the Chi-town Bears play MNF (I heart Devin Hester) last night, I am in full Christmas party prep mode this week. I will say that while I hate all the cleaning and organizing (dusting and shoving things under my bed), I love this party. I look forward to this party.

In all honesty, I look forward to Christmas. I love having my Advent wreath and calendar (as any good Catholic girl does). I love St. Nicholas day and the little present my aunt gives us every year. I love buying a tree and decorating my house – down to putting up my Christmas dishes, putting out my Christmas towels and hanging Mistletoe in the doorframes in the hopes that one year it will actually work).

I love baking cookies and breads. I love having the place smell of pine and berries. I love the cold chill and a fresh snow on the ground. I love the craziness of Christmas shopping and striving to find each friend and family member the perfect gift. I love getting together with family on Christmas Eve. I love the meal we eat (well, not all 7 of the fish) and I love that we have desserts and a cordial of amaretto. I love Midnight Mass, the caroling before it, presents and pizza afterwards and going to bed too late.

I love Christmas morning, my mom’s date nut bread and opening presents with my family. I love the fresh start Christmas seems to bring. I love the sense of family and hope and love and peace. I love the magic and miracle of Christmas. I love believing that there is a Santa Claus and that George Bailey is the richest man in town. I love the beauty of Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree. In short, I love everything about Christmas.

Of All the Gin Joints in All the Towns in All the World

Last night, I ran into 'the guy' on my home turf. Which is a bit odd, since in the years that it has been my home turf, I have never seen him there before. Then again, I wasn't looking for him then. I am not sure what the chance (or not so chance encounter means), but it intrigues me.

Regardless of how this plays out, it was nice to meet someone who actually saw me and not through me. To have someone get me that quickly was refreshing. It makes me glad to be a single-in-the-city. To have had that moment and the chance to see the potential of it all.

Sometimes, people worry about the single girl. (Count the number of times your relatives ask you (the single girl) when you are getting married or having kids...or my favorite, ‘is there someone special in your life?’)

People wonder about the single girl. They wonder if she is a jaded, angry She-man. Or, if she is the bar-hopping, easy girl (typically, Sex and the City is blamed for this descriptor). If she is crazy or damaged or clingy. They look at the single girl and wonder why she is still single.

Well, the answer is simple: Because. She is single because she is. Some of us are jaded and angry. Some of us are a bit on the promiscuous side. Some are crazy and damaged. Some are clingy. Some focus on majoring in our M.R.S. and some run in the other direction.

I like to think that the single girl is single, because she refuses to settle for less than the fairy tale. And I don’t mean the Little Mermaid. (Because, if you read the real version of that story, she doesn’t end up getting what she wants. She dies. Who wants to strive for that?) I mean, her version of the fairy tale – whatever that may be.

My version of the fairy tale is to meet my ‘split apart'. The person that knows me without having to think and who makes me want to be a better person. It is the person who challenges me. Intellectually. Spiritually. Emotionally. Physically. I don’t want to go through life with anything less than that. Is it lofty and idealistic? Yes. But, to quote one of my favorite (little known) movies – Dream for an Insomniac – “There are too many mediocre things in life to deal with and love shouldn't be one of them.”

There's Never a Wish Better Than This

My friend Jen wrote about the new TBS show, "My Boys," and I have to concur with her on its addictiveness. I love it for the Chi-Town references. I love that the guys in the show remind me of my own guy friends. Selfishly, I would like to believe that the heroine in the show is a bit of a blend of all my girl friends.

I mean, really, PJ has the best life. She goes to work at Wrigley every day - which has been my life long dream. She covers the Cubs, drinks beer, hangs out at a tavern with board games and red and white checked tablecloths and mocks the clubby bar she gets dragged to in one of the episodes. She is the everywoman for the sports-minded, Chicago single girl. I realize it is a TBS show and that may be off-putting, but it is funny and entertaining and has great Chicago shout outs that only city folk will catch.

Incidentally, and I am bummed that I didn't put two and two together when this happened, I inadvertently attended a post show party. Those of you that know me, know the tavern I call home. If you have seen the shows and noticed similarities between my bar home and PJ's, it is no mistake. That pub was modeled after mine.

I know this because there were several cast members (again I realize this in hindsight) at my tavern celebrating wrapping up shooting. At the time, we all only knew that they were filming something that was based on my tavern. Of course, all of us thought this was weird, since they hadn't really asked many of us about the bar and how could they base it on our bar and not want to talk to the regulars and employees?!? Well, they did and did a pretty good job at that. I laughed out loud at the episode where the shy-guy friend kept playing jenga. It was just another regular Friday night at my bar.

That being said, I can say that I was there when it all started. I just wish I had known that at the time.

On a side note, I just noticed that this was my 100th post. Seems like I should take a mini-moment to acknowledge that. I want to thank Phylisa for making me start this blog. My readers are few, but it is an outlet that has kept me writing and I am forever grateful for that. Another shout out goes to Jen, for keeping me honest and reminding me when I slack on my writing duties. I am forever grateful to them and all of the amazing people in my life.

This Just In

Damn It! I am the nice girl. I really hoped that this Christmas I would end up with some coal and some really good stories. And yet, I am the nice girl.

How do I know? I met "the guy" where there was palpable chemistry in the air. He may literally have been the male version of me - and in an eerily nice way. We talked lit and football - two of my favorite topics. We also talked about his girlfriend. Yep. He had a girlfriend. Could I have angled it my way? Perhaps. Did I think about it? Yeah.

But when it comes down to it, I’m the nice girl. Even if I thought I could, I really couldn’t break 2 people up or cause the cheating.

Damn. Looks like I will be dreaming of sugarplums and sucking on candy canes. So much for being the Naughty Girl.

Seriously?

Year # 2 of the (now) ex-whatever taking my email address list and sending an evite out to my friends. If they didn't really want to go last year (when we were pseudo-together and before you blew off New Year's), what makes you think they want to go this year (now that the mean word was invoked and it has been almost 9 months)?

Weird.

Weirder is the "funniest slogan" competition they have. Create the best reply and you could end up on a t-shirt commemorating the party.

Weirdest is seeing him the other day (I will admit, it has been oddly cordial lately) and him telling me that he expects me to come up with a good line for the competition.

Does "No way in hell will I be there, given that last year's party was awkward and sucky and you ditched me 4 days later in a crazy turn events." count as witty? If it doesn’t, I was thinking, “I’d rather shoot my out.” It might work. Brings in the whole Christmas theme and all.

Snow Flakes Falling All Over Town

So, I planned to have last Friday off. Because of the concert. Because no one likes to go to a concert, have a super fun time and then think about work in the morning. I planned to have last Friday off. It was just a bonus that it snowed. There is nothing that a Chi-town girl loves more than the first snow. (And I mean a real Chi-town girl. Someone who has trick-or-treated in the snow and can appreciate that the first major snow storm didn't hit until December 1, 2006). The first snow means, winter hats and gloves, puffy coats and best of all, snow boots. I love my snow boots! I have been waiting to wear them for a while.

When we left the concert, there was a brisk chill in the air. We stopped at Raw Bar, which had graciously watched our coats while we were at the show. We drank champagne while our friend played the piano. We hung out and had fun. N., M. and I decided to do a walk by (checking the scene at a neighborhood bar) and then head to G. T. to end the night. We bundled up and headed outside. It was snowing! Big. Glorious. Wet. Snow. We were thrilled. We headed down the street singing every Christmas carol that involved snow. (We apologize to those that we might have woken up with our shenanigans).

Had a few cocktails. Sang a few songs. Headed home. We tucked ourselves into our respective beds while dreams of snowflakes filled our heads. (Sorry, that was way silly, but I couldn’t resist).

I woke up on Friday excited for the world. Well, sort of. I woke up when my mom called me to tell me about her snow day. I had to remind her that I had taken my own snow day and that I wasn’t up at 6:40 like usual, because I was hoping to sleep in.

After going back to sleep and waking up again, I texted (why hasn’t my spell check program realized this is now a verb) N. to see what she was up to for food. The next thing we know a fun, comfort food, snow day lunch is planned. We all head to a local establishment for some warm food and a nice bartender to ogle a bit. N. had some work to do at the shop (i.e. a crap load of balloons to blow up). We went to help. I now rock at tying ribbon on a balloon.

From there we trekked, literally aiming for the snow piles – since we were wearing our snow boots, to get some hot chocolate. We headed to the G.T. to help N. open the bar.

Single-handedly, this was one of my most favorite days. It was perfect. Snow. Warm food. Good friends. Hot Chocolate. Crossword Puzzle. Funny Re-Cap of Evening Before. You couldn’t ask for anything more.

Gonna Knock You Right on the Head

While at the concert on Thursday, we witnessed a tragic sight. Band Groupies. And worse yet, they were Band Groupies for a good, but not-hugely-known-outside-of-Texas artist. A good artist at that. I respect and like Bob Schneider for his music and his lack of need for radio play and the next big single. But that is an entirely different point. These girls (older women pretending to be girls) were the kind that had gotten there early and planted themselves against the stage before the opening act (Matt the Electrician) was even playing. They were a bit on the yuck side.

Being our fabulous (read - sometimes a bit judgmental) selves, we noticed that one of the girls had decided a ribbed tank top and tuxedo-style, halter vest were a good, fashionable combination. It was most definitely not. Upon noticing this catastrophe, we did what all single girls in the city slugging miller lite from a plastic cup do, we took a solemn oath. N. a.k.a. “Oath Leader” made us all raise our hands and swear that we would never think the tank top / halter vest was a good idea and as friends, we would never let each other leave the house looking that tragic. Upon completing the oath, we cheered each other, swigged our beer and looked up and noticed that tank top / vest girl was glancing at us a bit. Busted. Crap, it is no fun to people-watch / outfit mock if you are going to get caught.

Forward the evening a few hours. Bob is on stage and playing. (Apparently according to our friend, Steve, he sucked. As a Bob virgin, I had no idea. I just blindly had fun drinking crappy beer (a.k.a. Miller Lite) and hanging with my friends). N. and I have just rejoined the circle after another beer run an are listening to the music. N. says something funny and goes to move back. The next thing I see is N. in slow motion heading for the floor with her beer in her hand above her head and tipping over. I Go-Go-Gadgeted my arms and grabbed the beer, sparing about a 1/3 of it, which I think is pretty good. N. lays on the floor wondering if a) she can slowly meld into it and b) anyone noticed the graceful moment that just happened.

We all wondered if Instant Karma hadn’t just bit us in the ass a bit.

Crunchy Granola Suite

A group of friends and I attended a concert at the Metro last week. As we entered the 18 and over show, we were carded at the door. We had our bags inspected by security and I use that term loosely. The female security officer stuck her hand in my purse and rummaged around. She pulled out a Kashi granola bar from my bag and yelled at me about sneaking food into the concert. (Because, who doesn't want to have a granola bar and a beer at a show?!?) She wouldn't let me pass unless I threw the granola bar away. I, calm as ever (or not at all), replied something to the extent of why would I eat an f-ing granola bar at a concert and tossed the thing in the trash and entered the Metro.

Continuing onto checkpoint #2, I was carded by a guy who asked me if I had any gum. Still a little pissed off about the Kashi, I asked him “why, do you need to confiscate that too?” Poor innocent carding guy. All he wanted was a piece of gum. I offered him a Tic Tac. Finally inside, I made my way to the bar, because after all this, it was necessary.

Flash Forward to encounter with random drunk girl in bathroom later in the evening. I pulled some lotion out of my purse for a friend, so that we could curb the tavern smell she had about her – more on that story in a different post. We struck up a conversation with this girl about the neighborhood attacks and such. (Have no idea how that became bathroom fodder). Anyway, short story long, she said that she didn’t go anywhere without her pepper spray and blade. And then she pulled them out to show us them.

Could someone explain how the Kashi is the more of a threat than pepper spray and a knife? Was I going to cranberry them to death?