Can someone explain to me why, exactly, this sign is posted outside of McDonalds? Ah, the wonders of "suburban" Chicago never cease.
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Another picture I took in Chicago. This one is for Tyler....Hello Gov'nor...
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A picture I took in Chicago. A bit of an "I told you so" for my mom, and everyone else's parents like mine. :)
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Compromise

If I can't have a boyfriend, can I have this?

Beauty and the Geek

Ok, wow. We, as a people, are very shallow. I don't think we should be ashamed of it. Just think, peacocks have pretty feathers, the robin has a red breast, doggies sniff, and the list goes on and on. So, what we do is preen by clothing. And might I just say, after watching this week's episode of "Beauty and the Geek" on the WB; I feel we should continue this custom.

Let's admit it. First impressions are everything. Furthermore, I don't care what we say about the importance of a person's personality....You just have to want to see that person naked before you care to find out about their personality. Sexual attraction is key. And clothes really do make the man.

Does this make us shallow? Of course. Does that make us terrible people? No. Just don't forget about everything that's important. Use it for first impressions ONLY! (Unless you have a REALLY REALLY good reason for placing more emphasis on looks -- wink).

Letters of Request, and the Response

To: The Board
From: pheebee
Re: Signage

Dear Distinguished Members of the Board,

I respectfully request the immediate removal of the sign which
says "fb enjoys the company of older men". This statement
is patently untrue. Furthermore the creepy old men of Matteson, IL
continue to pester me. I am not safe at the gym or at the gas
station. Please remove and destroy this sign.

Very Truly Yours,
Ms. "I only go for men my age"

To: pheebee
From: The Board
Re: Signage Removal Request

Dear Ms. "I only go for men my age,"

We have respectfully considered your request on this matter, and have
agreed to grant it. However, please note that the creepy old men of
Matteson, IL, as well as the rest of the world have informed the Board
that despite signage removal, they will nonetheless persist in their
harassing of young girls. Provided below is an excerpt of said letter:

"Harassment of young women is integral to our identity as creepy old
men. Furthermore, as many men suffer from delusions stemming from middle
age hormonal fluctuations, many are unable to grasp or appreciate that
their advances are patently unwelcomed. We sincerely hope that you may
understand our position on this matter, and as such reduce your pepper
spraying of our members."


Very Truly Yours,
The Board

This is highly disappointing. It's a day since I"ve received this response from the Board, and a mere few minutes ago I was accosted by yet another old man!! Somebody get me some pepper spray!!!!!!

Observations from Exile

Having spent a week in Olympia Fields now, I have come to observe some things. First, my dear citizens of Chicago, you have got it all wrong. This is not, in fact, a suburb as the rest of the country knows it. (And by the rest of the country, I mean Milwaukeeans). Suburbs are areas that are near the urban area. (And by near, I don't mean 20 miles).

This is more like quasi-urban. There are endless numbers of big box stores and chain restaurants. I can't begin to count the number of desperate housewife SUVs that clog the roadways. And there are cookie-cutter townhouses as far as the eye can see. However, there is no sign of local stores and restaurants, no local favor, and no attitude or charm. AND, nothing to do. There's also no way to do something in the nearest urban area (Read: Chicago) because the last train back to OF leaves at 12:55. Hope you have friends in town.

And yet, people still live here. The reason is beyond me, but I imagine it's because they crave the quiet life for their families and kids. Bah!

Unenthusiastically stuck

Well, common sense beat sanity. I am remaining in BFE for the duration of the program. Very depressing. Even my eternally optomistic friend can't cheer me up at the moment. But knowing that I have a microwave is a much anticipated perk.

Ah well, if I could do anything in 18 days at Cornell, surely I can last a mere 7 weeks, 5 days, 2 hours and 58 minutes.

Working Girl

Well, I have finally become a productive member of society. I have officially started work at the Federal Highway Administration's Olympia Fields, IL office. The office is uber-casual, which is nice. However, the casual atmosphere has foiled my plans of rebellion. Here's what happened:

Picture it, Olympia Fields, June 5, 2005. So, there I am, at the reception desk at the Baymont Inn, ready to check-in. I had not yet received a confirmation number, but eh, what are the odds of them not having a reservation for me. Well, apparently, the odds were quite good. Upon attempting to check-in, I was told there was no such reservation for me. This, of course, after the fiasco of the retracted offer for housing in Chicago. So, I hop on my cell phone and disturb the powers that be to alert them to my situation. Turns out, they had the same problem with the other chick intern the day before. Arrgh. Oh well, at least I finally get a room.

Or so I thought. I walk into a tiny crawl space masquerading as a hotel room. The upside, there is a gigantic king size bed. The downside, the t.v. isn't working and there is no microwave which was promised to me. Therefore, I must move to a different room a mere hour later. Arrgh (again).

The chick intern and I are clearly disappointed. (The guy intern, not so much, since he had chosen to live here over Chicago). When our supervisor asked us how we felt, we politely told him of the general suckiness. So he offers to ask questions, and we say we'd appreciate that. The powers that be offer to look again, and are willing to pay for an alternative place if the other chick and I find someplace at a comparable price. Thinking this is near impossible, I think it's not likely.

Well, I was wrong. Get this, one of the original places offered to us, not only has housing, but is willing to let us move in until we no longer need to be there. Why was this not figured out BEFORE?! Yeah, if you figure out the answer to that, let us know. Anyway, I may be moving to Chicago if I can figure out how to get from the train station to my office. Here's where you can help. Where would you choose?

1. Leave your car (a very pretty Mustang) in the lot at the train station overnight. (Cost is about $1 a day). The police patrol the area at night, and will be taking information about your car and keep it on file.

2. Leave your car in Wisconsin. Take a cab to work from the train station everyday. (Cost is about $10-12 per day).

3. Stay in BFE, Illinois in aforementioned hotel room and purchase 2 meals a day everyday.

Vote is open until 11:50 a.m. tomorrow!

Stories from Tosa

My friend Katie told me the most amazing story in the world. And by amazing, I mean psycho.

Picture it, Tosa, just outside the village, 2005. Katie is driving along minding her own business, following Amy. She is on her way home, on 68th and State. (I think). Anyway, as they are at a stop sign, Amy gets hit by a car that was driving approximately 1000 mph. Fortunately, no one is hurt. But the psycho that hit her and his equally psycho friends get out of the car.

So Katie puts her car in park and begins to get out of her car. Suddenly, every available unit of the Wauwatosa Police Department is blocking her in. They're yelling "freeze, or I'll shoot!". What would you do in this situation? I, would probably pee my pants and immediately begin to sob uncontrollably -- something about having guns pointed at you.

At this point, Amy (who had not gotten out of her car) has pulled away and is not blocked in. Katie proceeds to leave at the next available moment. When she gets home, she is naturally shaken -- but manages to triumph over parent paranoia when her mother calls. Saying that she had guns pointed at her NOT in the dangerous neighborhood she's constantly warned about; but rather in the outskirts of the Tosa village.

Anyway, Katie and Amy attempt to find out what happened by calling the police station, but whoever answered the phone didn't know. BUT! thanks to the miracle of the internet, they find out the following Monday when the WPD website is updated. Turns out, aforementioned psychos -- henceforth referred to as idiots, had just robbed the George Webb on State Street. And of course, the entirety of the WPD was needed, because they didn't have anything better to do that evening.