Sanity

As you know, doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result is defined as insanity. But what is it when you do the same thing over and over again, fully expecting the same unpleasant result? My guess? The definition is stupidity.

I'm speaking, of course, of my ridiculously repetitive relationship with the engineer. (Alliteration not intended, but impressive nonetheless). Here's the thing. Our relationship is more or less the exact same way that it was around this time 20 months ago. When we talk, it's easily for 45 minutes or more. And it's easy conversation. We make each other laugh, we impress each other with our intelligence, blah blah blah. There's just one minor change; this time, we acknowledge that we're attracted to each other in a romantic way. But, despite that minor change, I fully expect that a few months from now, he is going to meet a girl. And then he is going to date her, sweep her off her feet, and she will demand (albeit fairly) that he choose between me and her. And I fully expect him to choose her. Again. And while this time, he might not be so harsh about it, there isn't a doubt in my mind that he'll choose her. And rightly so. She'll probably sleep with him. Which, of course, I wouldn't do even if there wasn't 3/4ths of the country between us. And, equally as importantly, she'll live in the same city.

So, like I said. I think the definition might be stupidity. Ridiculousness. Fill in the blank, go ahead, I'll wait.

In other news, I met a pretty handbag the other day. Click here for an articulate definition of a handbag. Hilariously, I wasn't entirely certain of his name. Or that he'd actually call. But he did. And I found out his name. For now, we'll call him the Young Titan. More on him later -- i.e. when I figure out if he actually stays on the island long enough to warrant a blog posting.

Not that there's anything wrong with that

Ok, there's a chick at the gym who most likely thinks I'm gay. Which is fine, except for the fact that I'm not actually a lesbian. The thing is, she has the exact physique that I want. She's approximately my height, and has the tiny and fit compact body that I want. Her chest is way bigger, but I've never been a I-wish-I-had-a-bigger-chest kind of girl. Honestly, I kind of enjoy being a member of the itty bitty committee. I enjoy going without *ahem* support when I'm just not in the mood.

Anyhoo, back to the girl who probably thinks I'm lusting after her. The thing is, I'm really not. (And if I was, I wouldn't want her knowing it because I'm sure she knows she's cute and I really am not the type to feed an ego.) But I just want to put her in the interrogation room and depose her on her fitness and eating habits. I mean seriously! How did she get that body?! The exercises I see her doing don't really seem to be that hard. Maybe she just works out for waaaay longer than I do. Hmmm. Maybe she's got way more money than I do and can therefore afford a permanent trainer. Whatever she's doing, can you let a sistah know?!

Head of State (HNIC)

So, it is my tradition to watch either The American President or Head of State or both prior to the election. This year I didn't, so I'm watching Head of State now. Quite honestly, it's still hilarious. But, it is stunning to me that this movie was supposed to take place in 2004, and Mays Gilliam (Chris Rock) won the election. At that time, it was a great satire on the state of America. I especially loved the absurdity of the movie's premise. Really?! A relatively unknown, black man as president, beating out a war hero? PAH!

And now I stand, four years later, in complete awe of Mr. Fantastic, aka Barack Obama. I echo a comment I heard from a professor on The Today Show. I underestimated white people in America. Despite the fact that I truly believed that the Democrats could've run a hamster and still should've won, I was not totally convinced that the yuppies of America would actually vote for a African American. I wasn't really concerned about the racist, KKK members of the country. Honestly? They weren't likely to vote for Democrats anyway. But, I was convinced that there were white people everywhere, who said they were Obama supporters, but only because it was what a good yuppie liberal should say. Then, I figured when they got into the booth, curtain around them, they would find themselves unable to actually pull the lever for a black man. Well white people, y'all proved me wrong. And might I say, good work.

No, I'm not convinced that race in America is officially a nonissue. But, I am in awe that it is less of an issue than I thought. I love it. I've found myself high on life since Monday. I think the euphoria may last forever. God bless America!

So, we've got our plane tickets for DC on January 19-23. Are you in to watch history continue?

Year of the Gentleman

Ne-Yo has a new album out, titled Year of the Gentlemen. He is getting quite a bit of buzz for several of the songs on this album. Part of the publicity found its way into my favorite commuter newspaper by way of an interview with Ne-Yo. The interview was all about Ne-Yo's classic Rat-Pack-esq sense of style. In his (humble) opinion, he believes a mans suit should create the male hourglass. What most people call the "V" shape.

I gotta say, I completely agree with Ne-Yo and I appreciate his sense of style. For those who don't really follow R&B, his sense of style is reminiscent of Frank Sinatra. Fedora, cocked to the side, a nice suit, tie, and wingtips. Insert sigh here. I wish more men dressed like Ne-Yo.

Obviously, I don't expect men to wear a suit all the time. I just love a man that's put together well. There's nothing like a man in a nice pair of jeans, fashion tennis shoes, and a well fitting tshirt. Insert another sigh here. Where are the men that dress like that??

For the record, the hot restaurant manager had a nice flair. And, by the way, he emailed me twice(!) asking for the address of the party. I'm wondering if he is perhaps a little frantic about it. But he said he's bringing friends. We just won't tell him that it's my friends house. For all he knows, it's a man's house. :)

Wow

So, a fellow mafia member and I followed up church with brunch. We went to a neat little place in the south loop. (A neat little neighborhood second only to my own). Normally, this wouldn't be news. Ok, given my need to share ridiculous details about my life, it probably is news. Anyway, the reason why I'm mentioning it is because we saw a most gorgeous man.

He was a caramelly colored brotha, with light eyes, a low cut fade, and most importantly, has the style of Fonzworth Bentley. The outfit started with a nice pair of wool (I think) flat front trousers, a french blue button down shirt, a reddish patterned tie, and a heather gray sweater. The chocolate brown blazer was lovely also -- although that ended up coming off.

As it turns out, he worked at the cute little resto. He was clearly a manager, but, I'm not entirely certain what that means at this restaurant. Clearly, being a manager at Taco Bell is different than being a manager at a 5 star restaurant. He could be anywhere to a part-timer to a huge deal.

None of that is really important at the moment though. At this point, I just consider him yummy eye candy. Feeling bold, I called him over to tell him he looked fantastic. (That was before we finished eating.) And he told us that he was the new manager, blah blah blah. His teeth were so pretty, and his eyes so fantastic that I really wasn't listening. Anyway, after we finished eating, I called him over again to slip him my cell phone number. I did it with the pretext of inviting him to our Halloween party. In order to not endure the pain of the fact that he has a girlfriend, I told him to bring his guy friends and girl friends. (Secretly hoping that he had a lot of guy friends that look like him, and no girl friends). We'll see what happens...stay tuned.

Synchronicity

In one of the many many chick lits that I've read, there was a term used for what I'm having these days. "Synchronicity." Basically, it's when everything seems to be going your way. "Coming up Milhouse" as was said on the Simpsons. (If you caught that reference then you, like me, watch reruns way too often.)

At any rate, my life seems to be going wonderfully right now. Yesterday, I was rushing home to watch the final debate, and I managed to catch a bus just as I was coming out of the eL. I only missed 40 minutes. Hooray!

Today, I had an interview with the principle of a firm. She got my resume through about 4 degrees of separation. She told me that they weren't even hiring. They have the space, she said, but they really weren't seriously looking -- but just considering it. Then, she said, that when she gets the resume and meets someone wonderful, she doesn't want to miss out on the opportunity. (Insert gigantic smile here). Hooray!

Then, I started a dance class at my gym this evening. It was a great class, and I love the teaching style. The jury is still out on whether or not I like the choreography. But the teacher flat out said that she doesn't do turns. Yes! My horribly embarrassing lack of ability to spin will not be revealed. She told us that if she notices someone who is really good, then that person will be trying out for her dance team. And she will make that person audition different things. And then after class, I told her (conversationally while waiting for my receipt) that I was using this class to decide whether or not I was retiring my dance shoes. She turned to the girl that was making the class list and said 'oh she's not retiring.' And then turned to me and said, 'you're totally trying out for my dance team.' Hooray!

So, I'm enjoying the current string of blessings. I can definitely hear my mother and my auntie saying "We told you so...God's time, not your own time." But for the record, I never said patience was my virtue. I'm an impatient saint, ok? We all have our flaws, right?

A small taste

I've been given a small taste of the good life. Last week I purchased a fabulous coat from the Michael Kors Outlet. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it! Seriously, the coat itself is fabulous. But more importantly, it looks fabulous on me! Arrogance aside, I really like how it feels on. And, I like how I feel in it.

Something about the "high-end" fashions have changed my opinion. I used to think that the name-brand fashions were mostly just paying for labels. I still feel that way, but I'm changing. There's something to be said for wearing a $300 coat....of course, there's a lot more to be said when you're wearing a $300 coat that you totally stole from the outlet store for no where near that price.

Ultimately, maybe it isn't that I am changing my mind about brands. I think I've actually always liked them. But what I truly like are clothes that fit fabulously, make me feel fabulous, AND I got at an awesome deal on. Phew! And I was worried that I'd become a brand whore. ;)

Haus Frau

Lately, for the last two weeks really, I've been excessively tired. Before, it was a part of the general insomnia I was suffering from. Some of that was also due to the constant muscle pain in my shoulder. Now, I'm finding myself completely without motivation. I haven't been to the gym in about 2 weeks. (Actually, I'm not even sure of that. I can't remember for sure when the last time was. I know it was a Saturday -- I just don't remember which).

Anyway, it's strange. My usual motivational cues aren't working. As we all know, my body image is a twee bit off kilter. So, I'm usually the first one to start watching what I eat and hitting the gym immediately after losing some tone. But these days? I care, but I can't seem to find the motivation to do anything about it.

So, another motivation for me was trying out to be a pro-cheerleader again. As you may recall, last year that was enough to get me to the gym regularly, hire a personal trainer, etc. This time? Nope. If I don't make the team...d'ah well.

Of course, there was the possibility of meeting my future husband and/or going out on the weekends. But, as the temperature declines, the odds of me going out are also declining. Furthermore, my aforementioned total lack of motivation really doesn't lend itself to going out. I just don't have the energy for it.

I guess for now, just call me the haus frau. Because I really don't care to do much else.

Accidental Date

Yeah, ok. I know I say this all the time; but I found myself on a date again. And by found, I mean it was unintentional. Basically, what happened is this: There's this dude that used to work at Medleh a couple floors down in my office building. As it turns out, he has the same name as the Danka guy. I discovered this a couple weeks ago when I saw him on the street near the building. Anyway, he asked for my business card so we could keep in touch. I honestly didn't think much of it. I mean, he works with a lot of law firms, sooooo I figured it was plain old networking.

Anyway, he emailed me last week, and said do you want to do lunch? I said yes, thinking it was the Danka guy. And then I realized it was the Medleh guy. But whatever. We get to the resto, and I had already ordered online. And then he paid. Wait, what? He paid? Oh crap. This is a date isn't it? Bastidos! And that, my friends, is how one finds oneself on an accidental date. Neat huh?

In case you were wondering, I am not that into him. He's officially not my type. He'd make an excellent platonic friend. But as far as romanticism goes, I will pass. Blech!

iPod addiction

The other day in the newspaper, I was reading an article about Blackberry addiction. Would you believe there is actually a group, similar to Alcoholics Anonymous for people addicted to their Blackberry devices, smartphones, etc? I found myself chuckling about the article, until I got to the end.

One of the indications of addiction was taking your handheld device to bed with you. Of the people they interviewed, I believe a good 40% (it's been a while since I read the article) stated that they would rather take their handheld device to bed with them over their spouse.

Well, like I said, i thought the article was hilarious. And then I realized that I definitely take my iPod touch with me to bed. It sits on my nightstand every night. It's one of the last things I look at when I go to bed. And then it's the first thing I check when I wake up.

No need to schedule an intervention yet. I didn't have any of the other addictive habits. Phew!

Get me to the ball on time.

The Green Tie Ball is an event held every year in Chicago. It's a fundraiser to raise money for the Gateway Green project. That's the group in charge of finding people to clean up the highways.

Anyway, I went this year. I've been pretty pumped up about it for a while, because it gave me an awesome excuse to wear the fabulous brown silk dress I found a few years ago. Unfortunately for me, I forgot to bring it back from Milwaukee over Labor Day. I considered having my mom mail it, but I decided I may as well go and get it on Saturday so I could have my hair done fabulously. I picked up a couple riders along the way, namely SiQ and another friend who wanted to hitch a ride. All of this seemed perfectly benign.

Well, that was before the heavens opened up. The rain began on Friday afternoon. And continued through Sunday. Saturday morning began normally enough. My friend met me at my place around 10:15 a.m. We hop onto the freeway, and promptly run into traffic at the normal spot. It's moving at a snail's pace, but it ALWAYS moves at a snails pace. Or so I thought. And then I realized that this snail was nearly dead...and we'd moved at a pace of roughly 6 miles an hour. We were literally in the car about 90 minutes and had barely gotten out of the city. And then we were forced off the freeway due to closure. You read that right. The freeway was CLOSED.

Well, this is the information age. So I call SiQ and ask her to re-route us via the internet. (Especially important since there were no detour signs.) But, just as she was finding a route (of sorts), the next freeway entrance was open. So we get on the freeway, thinking we can make up time. Boy were we wrong. We were forced off the freeway AGAIN. We spent the next 2 hours driving through various suburbs searching for a way to the highway.

As a lucky break, I happened to take a road that ran through the forest preserve. And it happened to run into a street I recognized; which led me to the highway. Meanwhile, it's still raining. I finally get to the SiQ's house, pick her up. Get to the WI state border, no rain and no traffic. GAH. So, I finally get to my destination - 5 HOURS AFTER LEAVING MY APARTMENT.

After all of that, I asked my dad to drop off the dress at the beauty shop. I was seriously freaking out. But, the good news was, the freeway was re-opened. I got back to my apartment within 2 hours of leaving.

The ball was great. The dress fit perfectly (it had better -- after 7 hours of travel I was going to make it fit). I even managed to get us into VIP -- basically, I found 2 pins and scammed 2 other ones from some guy - volunteers. :) Just like last time though, another girl was in my dress in a different color. Unlike last time, she was way skinnier than me. :\

Repeat

Ahhhhhhhhh! That's the sound of the mental screaming I was doing at the eL station today. Picture, a transfer point on the eL. September 2008. Approximately 455 p.m. There I am, looking in my fabulous Kate Spade bag for my transit card. I look up, to open the glass door. And there...in the reflection...the old guy from the eL a few weeks ago. (Insert expletive here).

So, then I thought I was a goner, but he had to get a transit card from the machine. So, I thought I'd escaped him, until I remembered that his whole opportunity for hitting on me in the first place arose from the fact that we rode the same line. But then, I thought I was saved because as I reached the top of the steps, there was my train arriving. And given that he was way behind me buying a card, I thought it officially ok to breathe a sigh of relief. Not! Not only did he make it onto the train, he ended up on the same blasted car.

Needless to say, it was an incredibly uncomfortable ride since I had to face one direction the entire time. But, I did manage to avoid eye contact (and giving him a full view of my face). So, he didn't get the chance to see or talk to me. (Insert phew! here).

You're Out.

Ok, as I've mentioned, I've become a total national convention junkie. Well, as much as I can with basic t.v. Anyway, I've established 5 reasons why the Gentlelady from Alaska cannot become VP:

1. Track
2. Bristol
3. Willow
4. Piper
5. Trig.

These are her children's names. Really? REALLY? Who in the devil names their children after pharmaceutical companies? And who names their son Track or Trig? Seriously!? This clearly shows a complete and utter lack of common sense, if not a total lack of judgment.

So, in the words of Heidi Klum...You're Out.

Political Par-tay

I'd originally intended on blogging on the history recently made by one Mr. Barack Obama. (Can you think of anyone more fantastic right now? Because I can't). But then, I found myself distracted by some high quality shenanigans going on in the Republican party, that I am moved to comment on. Here's that comment: PAH HAHAHAHAHAHA.

Ok, so what we're saying is, John McCain chose a woman who was (a) a runner-up in the Miss Alaska pageant in the late 80s, (b) younger than Mr. Obama, (c) has only been governor for 20 months, and (d) has a pregnant 17 year old daughter.

PAH HAHAHAHA. This, my friends, is pure comedy. You have a right-wing hardcore card carrying NRA type, who is pro-life, anti-abortion, and pro-abstinence-only education. And this, is who the distinguished senator from AZ chooses to run with him? Just because she's a woman with youthful energy? This is his answer to the unstoppable, half-man half-amazing Mr. Obama?

Tell me, this is not hilarious. That's right, you can't.
What's next Mr. McCain? Cody Diablo as Secretary of Health and Human Services? Perhaps Superhead (the Video Vixen) as Head of FEMA?

Oooh, That's Deep

So today, at the weekly Cashmere Mafia meeting, we were counseling a member on how she should not not NOT feel bad about this guy who was a total prick. We were discussing the two modes of thinking. Some of us were on her side, namely that you feel that you have a duty to tell these dues why, exactly, they are so blinkin' bogus. The other faction believes once you screw up, we check out and you're done.

Personally, I fall into the former category. I feel it is my duty, and my privilege, to tell a guy why you are so blinkin' bogus. And that got me to thinking. Maybe that's the real reason why the engineer got an invitation to Chicago...and made it back on the island, for that matter. I attempted to be a member of the latter category. He screwed up HUGELY. But I never took the chance to tell him how badly he screwed up. Instead, he screwed up, I walked away. But, I obsessed for 18 months about how much he sucked...and how dare he treat me that way. Now, I'm given the chance to tell him, and I find myself dragging my feet. I've fallen back into "the way we were." This, is bad. The desire to tell someone about themselves is not a good reason to allow them back on the island.

But, after extending the invitation, can you really shut it down? And, if my feelings were originally that strong, should I turn my back on it? Ooooh, that is sooo deep.

Back to Olympus

At the risk of sounding like a terrorist, are the Olympics still on?!!? Seriously!! I can't believe how long the Olympics have been interrupting regular programming. I feel like it's been on for months and months and months. Even when I was little, the only sports I really cared about were gymnastics and the sprinting events of track & field. Now that I have an obscenely early bedtime, I can't even watch those events since they're almost always shown live. So, I respectfully request that in 2012, they put the Olympics on one of those nifty digital stations, and I'll go ahead and tune in when I feel like it. I know you can do it!

Avoidance is not Closure

So, I bet you're all wondering how the weekend with the Engineer was. Well, it was great! Lots of fun doing tons of stuff. I started it off with a bang, by taking him to the Signature Lounge on the 96th Floor of the John Hancock. The view up there is awesome, by the way. Then, the next 3 days were as filled with as much as I could find to do, with the exception of Monday, when I was put on house arrest by the Engineer since I was deathly sick with the Plague.

Anyway, the sad part about the weekend is that I failed to actually address the elephants in the room. Namely, how super bogus he was a year and a half ago (longer now). And second, what this trip will lead to for the future. Contrary to popular belief, I have a rational reason for not really pushing the conversation. Shortly after his arrival, I realized that I could either treat this weekend like a fun summer fling; or, I could address all of the aforementioned issues and add some unnecessary tension to the weekend. I chose to go with option a. Reason being, he just bought a condo out west. I have less than zero intentions of moving out there. And by virtue of purchasing a condo, he has essentially made the statement that he's not moving here. So, in the end, why bother pressing the issue?

Now, I have friends (SiQ, 2DP) who are opposed to the Engineer generally. And friends who, after grudgingly accepting the visit, will be opposed to the fact that I pressed no issues (SiQ, Kaia). Sooo, what we've learned is, I am completely defiant in the face of the island cabinet.

At any rate, that's all I got for ya, without giving you a detailed schedule. And that would not make for such an interesting blog. Anyway, I thought that the results would be far more interesting. All in all, a great summer fling weekend.

A Quickie Post

My psychic powers can sometimes be very gratifying. And sometimes quite upsetting. Today, I think they fall into the upsetting category. In my last post, I ended it with the dire premonition that there was the possibility that I would not hear back from my Blair Underwood. Funny, I did hear back from him, but it was only via text, and it was on Friday. "Hey pretty lady. How's your day going?" Or some such thing. Which would be totally sweet and adorable had it not been the only non-responsive communication. In other words, he responded to my email about the storm (we just had a giant one here on Tues), but didn't bother to call otherwise. Frankly, I'm incredibly confused. I mean, after a 7 hour date, don't you call? Or, ask for another date? Am I being blown off? And if so, can I get an explanation?

Grant it, after 1 date, I don't necessarily deserve an explanation. But it'd be nice to have one. Of course, part of me assumes this is the universe's way of getting back at me for the way I abruptly ended it with J.R. (the short old guy). But, on the other hand, at least I gave him an explanation.

In other news, while I'd totally prefer to go out with him again (especially given the total amnesia he gave me with regard to the Engineer), I can't say that I'm entirely that pressed. Yes, I would totally heart going out with him again. Yes, he is uber hot. No, I'm not planning to cry over it. In fact, I was on the eL today, calculating how much time I should let pass before deleting his number, when I realized I really could just delete it now. The unfortunate part is that if he were to call or text again, I'd likely not have a clue who he was, because unlike Snowflake, I didn't memorize his number by default.

D'ah well. As someone told me, it might be just as well. With the imminent arrival of the Engineer, perhaps now is not the best time to become totally smitten with Blair Underwood. On the other hand, Blair Underwood's masterful first date lifted my haze with regards to the Engineer's shenanigans, and helped me cool my original nonsense. This trip, though allegedly filled with potential, has been relegated to summer fling. I mean really? Can I truly get smitten with a guy who a.) cannot use a post office and b.) ticked me off to the point of speechlessness? I should send Blair Underwood a thank-you text for that. Too bad I refuse to set a precedent of always contacting him first.

My Blair Underwood

Did you ever notice that sexy Blair Underwood is often playing a character that seems so great on paper, but in the end the girl picks a significantly less awesome guy? Well, I'm wondering if perhaps I met my own personal Blair Underwood.

As you all know, I went out on a date on Saturday. It was a fantastic date. We went to see Too White Crew and then we went to eat Indian food at a fantastic little restaurant near my apartment. After dinner, which was filled with tons of lively conversation, he walked me back to my apartment. My original intent was to take my food out of our shared to-go bag, and then see him on his way. Well, we ended up sitting on my incredibly comfy couch, and engaging in more lively discussion. Then, we eventually fell into comfortable, cuddly quiet. And then, it was 7 hours after our date started. So, I drove him home (with regrets).

But now, as I look back, I'm not as excited as I should be. Most likely it's because he told me that he just got out of a 4 year relationship. Ahem, 2 months ago! Gah! I'm pretty sure I've been relegated to the rebound of the closest thing to perfect guy. Bummer. We'll see how it goes though, because I'm all over the 2nd date. That is, if he ever bothers to ask. :\

Maneater

I've decided go bring out the player card for the weekend. As usual, it happened unintentionally. But I'm in a go-with-the-flow kinda mood, so I figured what the heck.

Recently, there was a surprise re-emergence of Snowflake. Remember him? He left the island in favor of his ex-girlfriend's island. Evidently, the grass wasn't greener on the new island. (That's a hilarious statement because he actually said that.) Anyway, here's how it went down. On Monday, I got a text from Snowflake saying that he was in my 'hood and wanted to see what was shakin'. So I told him nada mucho other than the visit by a former rebound guy. (Didn't omit that, it just wasn't an exciting story.) So, while waiting for the rebound and his gf to arrive, Snowflake invited himself over to my place. I invited him out, but he politely declined. (He said he declined because he didn't want to have the rebound sizing me up. I suspect it was actually because he didn't want to look like he was on a date in spite of his gf; you know, the one that lives in Indy?)

Anyway, on his way out the door, he said that if I have any other concerts I need a backup for, he was down. As it turns out, I did have a concert at my fave bar coming up. (It's so awesome to have connections.) So, we're going out on Friday. Yes, that's the day before the date with the frat. Niiiiiiiiiiiice.

AND, there's my newly acquired skill of getting me and my girls into various clubs and bars without a cover. At this point, I'm even starting to impress myself. I guess it's a gift. :)