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Thursday, August 25, 2005

PI Patrol

Here's the thing about Chicago. Just when you swear that all you are going to do is sit in your house, go to the gym, be healthy, and not drink - it all goes to shit. Next thing you know you may find yourself with a beer cup that never ends, hot dog in hand, in the bleachers at the Cubs game. Then you're drinking Old Style out of a can at the local tavern on the way home after stopping in for a quick game of Boggle. Before you know it you're trying to find a chilli cheese burrito, attempt to bake a batch of cupcakes, and possibly have third-degree sunburns. Then when you're woken up from a nap from a friend on their way to the bar, you suddenly develop a second wind and out you go again.


But nothing like this happened to me - just a friend...



Here are two people I saw at Rockit this last weekend.



This ups my celebrity sightings from Stevie Wonder and Carson Daly to David Schwimmer and Joey Slotnick. I think it's about time I get to see someone from the A list. Seriously.


Today after work we were on our way to happy hour and we got stopped by two ladies and two cameramen. At first we ignored them because we were worried they were making some sort of special on shaking paper cups but when they said they were with the Oprah show we were all ears. Apparently O's doing a show about the little things guys do to annoy women. The lady wanted to film us telling a little story and asking a question about why guys do a certain irritating thing. So of course under the pressure of the big O we all immediately draw blanks. Scenario: So you could be on Oprah, posing possibly the easiest question of your life (Who hasn't exasperatedly asked a guy why he has a certain behavior before???! We all have). But I could think of nothing clever besides the stereotypical cheesy stuff. I even called my most creative friends. NOTHING. What a bust. A couple people I was with were filmed saying a little something, so I'll still have to stay tuned. I knew I should have kept a list of annoying things guys do in my purse at all times. I'll get you next time Oprah!


I will conclude this post with a crazy el story. It happened tonight. I'm on my way home from happy hour with a co-worker who lives right by me. We're waiting for the brown line and engaging in the usual obligatory work gossip when I'm interrupted by a short creepy odd guy wearing a polyester plaid suit complete with sweater vest. The following is my attempt to recreate our conversation.


Creepy Weird Dude (whom I will so lovingly from now on refer to as CWD) to Me: How old are you?
Me: How old are you?
CWD: 22. How old are you?
Me: Too old for you.
CWD: No, really, how old?
Me: 30- kidding- 24.
CWD: That's only 2 years older than me, not too old.
Me:(Chuckles nervously, realizing that CWD is "not all there," and trying to figure out how to send a get-away-from-me message without being the heartless person that is mean to the mentally challenged guy who is probably merely trying to be friendly.)
CWD: (Gesturing to my co-worker, "E"), Is this your boyfriend?
Me: (Trying to send mental brain waves frantically to E so that he'd say he was my boyfriend just to get this freak away and fast)
E: No, I'm her co-worker.
Me: (Dammit, E)
CWD: (Pulls out something from his pocket and shows E and Me) Here's my paranormal investigator badge.
Me: (Examines badge authenticity, appears to be a legitimate sort of paranormal investigator badge) Wow, impressive.
CWD: Do you believe in ghosts?
E: Once, I took a picture at a cemetary and I got it back and it looked like a ghost was in it.
CWD: Really? Was it the ghost of Richard Speck? Do you know who he is? (Note: At this time, I have no idea who Richard Speck is, but I am able to infer it as the convo goes on. People, RICHARD SPECK IS A MASS MURDERER.)
E: Yes, I know who Richard Speck is. I'm not sure if it was his ghost...
CWD: What cemetary was it in?
E: Uh, I don't know, somewhere in DeKalb probably.
CWD: Awesome, (pulls out United States of America leather-covered notepad) can I have the cemetary address?
E: I have no idea what the address is.
CWD: Shoot, I bet that ghost was one of the nurses Richard Speck killed. (Looking at me) Do you like nurses?
ME: Uh, yeah.
CWD: So do you have a boyfriend?
ME: Yes I do.
CWD: That's too bad, cause I'm a spiffy paranormal investigator.
ME: Yes, truly a shame.
Then CWD proceeds to babble on about Richard Speck incoherently down to the other end of the el platform, thank you Jesus.

ONLY IN CHICAGO.


8:34 PM ::  :: E-Mail