And away we go!
Woke up to the light pitter patter of drizzle on my window this morning. It's a typical spring Monday in Chicago. Dreary. Rainy. Cold. Depressing. And I fucking lost an hour of sleep because of the blasted time change this weekend. So I got about 2 hours of sleep last night. Re-watched all of VH1's Celebreality until the wee hours. Couldn't turn off my brain. This is going to be one crazy month.
Miraculously, H and I passed a credit check and we got our apartment in Bucktown. It is GORGEOUS. Huge. We have a guest bedroom (and boy do we need one). We are basically in the very heart of Bucktown, and it is damn hard to find apartments over there. The competition is fierce. But our tenacity paid off and we hit the jackpot. I COULD NOT BE MORE EXCITED ABOUT THIS SUMMER!!!
Now I have to face the reality of actually packing up and moving. Is there a greater torture? This will be my be my 9th time moving in 10 years. I have been in my current apartment for two, but yes, I have moved once a year for the past decade. I'm so rootless. But I think this will be the place I stay until I get married. So I guess I'll live there for quite some time.
The past weekend was super duper fun. I took Friday off (my original plans to go out of town were thwarted ONCE AGAIN) but it was great to sleep in on Friday. I crawled out of bed around 10:30 and took Charlie to the doggy beach. It was a gorgeous day, but once the wind picked up, I got the hell back inside. I was really nice to spend the whole daytime alone. I haven't had any alone time in ages.
My sista showed up around 5 and we got all gussied up for the impending night. Earlier in the week, via countless mass e-mails, my posse and I decided to do a nice dinner and then hit up a blues bar. I had the idea of going to Club Lucky since we were vying for the apartment above it. Figured it would make us look good to already be spending money with the landlord. I made the reservation for 15. People dropped in, people dropped out, but we ended up having exactly 15 people. The food there is fantastic, but the martinis are even better. This place is famous in Chicago for it Killer Martini (vodka/gin with bleu cheese stuffed olives.) To have martinis so delicious just feet away from where I'll be laying my head... well let's just say my liver is quivering in anticipation.
I couldn't get everyone in the picture because there was so many of us. We basically had a room to ourselves. 15 deep. That's just how I roll.
See... we can be calm and totally mature! We swear!
Eyes wide shut.
I love this picture so. Even though I am Elvira pale right now. These are my girls. All of them will be in my wedding someday. (That's right... count those chickens!)
After the $500+ tab was paid (which took forever... some people were totally being cheap) we all tried to reconvene at The Underground Wonder Bar but Cocktail called and said there was a line and it was $15 to get in. So we scrapped that plan and headed back north... to Grand Central, a place where we are always guaranteed cheap/free drinks and no waiting in line. Sista made a phone call to a boy from our high school she was supposed to meet up with and we had a few cocktails.
Sista's new paramour? Only time will tell. But I am keeping my fingers crossed because that means she'd be in Chicago a lot more.
I love my naughty little tarts.
10 minutes later, she was behind the wheel. Zoinks.
We got bored and the girls decided we needed to head back downtown. The next few hours were a complete clusterfuck. We piled into Erin's Escalade and headed south. Erin got the brillant idea to pull alongside a cop and ask him for directions to the club she wanted to go to. The cop ended up being T's ex-boyfriend. Someone she is definitely not over. Talk about some bad luck. She was flipping out, but he offered to give us a police escort to the club. The look's on the valet's faces when an Escalade full of girls escorted by a cop car pulled up was priceless. Needless to say, we didn't wait in line.
We did a shot, I wiggled it, just a little bit, but it wasn't really my scene, so I wanted to depart. Erin tried to get behind the wheel again, but none of us were having it. Drinking and driving ain't cool, yo. So Cocktail (who had come to meet us 15 minutes prior) used his infinite charm to convince her to let him drive.
He was forced to cart around his 7 bitches sober-driver style.
Then it was off to the Hang Uppe, no waiting in line there either. We always go to the same places because we have hookups there, but honestly, it is time to make friends at other bars. I need a change of scenery. It was so effing packed in there, I was miserable. H and I ducked out before anyone could protest and headed home. Eventually, Cocktail and a few others followed and we had ourselves a sleepover. My poor roommate Nick had to work in the morning. He usually works weekends. He must be so estactic to move.
Saturday was nice and chill. We planned to go to Benihana that night for sista's belated birthday dinner, but she was not feeling well. We scrapped the idea of going, but an hour later, she said she was feeling better, so we ended up going after all. And I am so glad we did. This turned out to be a really, really fun night.
Holy hell, I had forgotten what a culinary treasure trove the local Benihana is! Sista and I split some sushi and then split the "Seafood Diablo." That shit was spicy, but ever so good! We were the only ones at our table drinking. We got some dissaproving looks from the Mormon couple next to us. Screw 'em. They didn't seem like very happy people.
H, Sista and I decided to go back to Bucktown to explore the neighborhood hot spots a bit. Since every damn bar was showing NCAA basketball, we tried to seek out more of a lounge atmosphere. We ended up at Celebrity which was aight. It was early, but we got a table and a very attentive waitress. This place made me a bit nervous. I am hoping this crowd was not representitive of the men that reside in Bucktown. They were extremely metrosexual. But the kind of metrosexual that makes it look like they're not trying. Zip up polyester jacket... tight graphic tee... $200 ripped jeans... spiky as shit hair... you know the kind. But then I thought about it: all the of normal guys were watching basketball. Let's just keep our fingers crossed.
What martinis in Bucktown look like.
I ended up getting ahold of my friend Jeff, a guy that I used to visit and stay with in Chicago right before I moved here. I wondered if he still lived in Bucktown and lo and behold, he does! He was excited when he heard where I was moving and promised that we would start hanging out again. Yay! He's fun.
We left there to meet up with Dra back in Lakeview. It was a friend-of-a-friend's party, and most of the guys were pretty darn cute. We stayed there for two hours and I had a great time hanging with my silly little sisty.
I am such a sweaty hose beast.
Egads, I completely detest my profile. I've had it up to here with my (rapidly disappearing) double chin. So let me post a picture of it!
Quintessential Dra. She is the most fun person EVER to go out with. Please don't be too jealous.
Word 'em up ya'll... I ain't jivin'.
Over the weekend, I managed to take many, many pictures of my baby sister. Behold this magnificent specimen of womanhood...
I took like 7 pictures of these two going at it right in front of me. This was the most innocent. She was wasted. He was not. We pried her from his grasp finally and got the hell out of there.
We were all over the map this night, just like the preceding night. We went back downtown, but not before making a pit stop at Deja Vu. Good lord, that place sucks. Then we hit up my ever trusty Spy Bar, where I ran into a couple of cats from college. They were both in my friend J's fraternity. I actually had a weird little thing with one of them, so it was good to see him again, and he is still looking mighty fine. He sort of trailed me the rest of the night, which I did not mind one bit. After a brief time there, the lights came on (when the lights come on in a club, some of the shit you see is scary!) which means it was time to go. I was still pretty sober and not at all tired. So we headed off to our (former but trying to make a comeback) friend Chill's apartment. She lives in the Presidential Towers and boy are they ever nice! Purdue guy and me had a nice long chat about relationships and watched the sunrise from Chill's window. When I finally got tired, he offered to share a cab with me and head back north. He dropped me in front and I got 2 pecks (and one that wasn't) and headed giddily inside. Fell asleep with a smile.
We forwent (can that be a word?) our "Sunday Funday" in favor of sleeping in and lounging around. We got some tasty take-out from my favorite local restaurant The Melrose and settled in for a nice day of slap-happiness.
Your secret is out, bub. I am so sorry.
You can see the hidden shame in his eyes.
Yes, it's true. My puppy is a drag queen.
And an alcoholic. Drinking helps numb the pain of a society that just doesn't understand.
She's a charmer.
That Flavor Of Love reunion special was absofuckinglutely nuts! This society is going to hell in a handbasket. And I am contributing by watching and being entertained. Read this. And I am quite dissapointed by Tori Spelling's show. It has the potential for greatness. Pull it together over there, Tor!
Holy shit, this post took forever. I need a Hot Pocket.