Random Esquire

I met the Seattle peeps on Tuesday and it felt like a reunion. The real ice breaker was on that night after I went to the hotel and met up with LynchSeattle, Bev, and Avitania (who already did an awesome re-cap of the week!).  We decided to go for Chicago pizza and upon seeing the line for Gino’s East snake out the door and down the block, Avitania said, “What is this the line for?!  Head??”  I burst out laughing and that pretty much defined the humor and fun that was to come.

After stuffing ourselves on pizza, Besos met up with us and we went to Big Bar and we officially got blynched together.  My cheeks hurt from laughing so hard.

Wednesday -  After work, I met up with Bev and we went to a cocktail party which, quite honestly, stunk.  It was outside and the wind made it a bit uncomfortable.  We left early and went to the loft where Bev had her first meeting with Little Filthy and Boss.  Then off to Marche where we met with Avitania, her husband (C), LynchSeattle, Instigator, and Plush.  Lots of eating, drinking, and laughing.

Thursday -  C and LynchSeattle met me at the loft in the afternoon (while Bev and Avitania got pedicures) and we went to pick up wine for their dinner at Schwa where the four out-of-towners enjoyed the 9 course tasting, including lamb brains and sweetbreads for dessert.  Major props to Sitcom who scored the reservation.  Besos and I met up with them after dinner and went to a local pub where we sat outside and laughed so hard, my stomach hurt.   There may be footage of me singing Paradise by the Dashboard Lights.

Friday - I met up with the gang downtown in the morning and we did the Segway tour of Chicago.  LynchSeattle is like Steve Wozniak because he has a Segway in the office.  We zoomed around Chicago, snapping pictures and making bets on who would wipeout first.   Then we hit Chinatown for Vietnamese food.  The gang hit Shedd Aquarium.  We met back up at Ed Debevik’s for a rowdy dinner of burgers, malts, fries and more laughter.  The gang gave me a very, very nice wine stopper.  The server asked what it was and I told her it was an anal plug.  Only in Ed’s can you get away with this sort of thing.  Our bill came with a nice drawing of an anal plug on it.  Welcome to Chicago, people.

Saturday -  I picked up the peeps and we went to get a jump on the line at Hot Doug’s.  Yes, we were line for hot dogs at 10:30 in the morning.  I can not explain this to you except to say that just the day before, Anthony Bourdain was at this little joint eating.  It’s that good.  On the weekend, you can get french fries…made in duck fat.  Byes to C and Avitania who were catching a flight home and I dropped the peeps off downtown to get some Garrett Popcorn.  I met up with Bev and LynchSeattle at the Oprah Store (seriously) and we meandered back to the loft where we mixed drinks, ordered pizza, watched the opening ceremonies (thank you, TiVo), and talked cameras.  Chill and perfect.

Sunday -  Bev, LynchSeattle and I toured an art fair before heading to the John Hancock Observatory to enjoy the view.  The weather all week had been gorgeous and it was borderline chilly when we sat outside afterwards, eating lunch.  Then to the hotel to pick up luggage before heading to the train where we said our byes.

I can’t begin to capture just how much fun I had this past week.  The Seattle peeps are great, kind, hilarious, fun people.  Now I’ve got to get my butt up to Seattle in October and hope for warm enough weather that LynchSeattle and I can go sky-diving.  Woot!

1. I find it humorous that I somehow manage to be a bit of a foodie and to enjoy some incredible meals and yet yesterday, I found myself banging two frozen waffles together over the sink wondering if too much ice had formed on them to get them crispy. And then I burned them in the toaster oven. Foodie FAIL.

2. I noticed a bulge in the bathroom ceiling yesterday. I quickly figured out that the air conditioner’s condensation drain was clogged (the AC is above the bathroom) and that the kill switch to prevent the pan overflow had obviously failed. But for a moment, as I stared at the bulge, I hoped that it would beat and pulse and indicate the presence of a evil spirit or poltergeist in the hopes that I could avoid calling AC repair and just opt for a priest or crazy little old lady to tell me that ‘this house is clean.’

3. Last night I saw Plush and she is just as great as ever. She’s a peach, that one.

4. My friend (new nickname: Sitcom) had a bit of a wild night at a bar a while back. It began with a bit of a slap-fight that turned into kissing that then ended with a night of passion, as they say. So life continued on after that evening and then Sitcom finds out that this person she’d had this fight/night with? Yeah, he won an Oscar. Sitcom calls up her friend to tell said friend about this bit of news but before she begins her story, Sitcom’s friend excitedly tells her story…that she (friend) just slept with a guy who designed a Target circular and wasn’t that terribly exciting?! Sitcom’s friend was so excited to have actually slept with the guy who decides if the video games belong in electronics or toys. And Sitcom then had to tell her that her wild fling was with an Oscar winner. Talk about raining on someone’s parade.

This made me think that I need a more exciting job.

My work on Friday afternoon was diverted with The Italian called me.  And he wished to talk Plush.  So we talked Plush.  Then, he broke out in song.  About Plush.  I told him he should sing to her and, never one to shy from a dare, he said, “Then call her!  Let’s conference her in.”

So I called her.  Mind you, The Italian and Plush have never met.  I said, “I have someone on the other line who wants to say something to you.”  Plush, completely unfazed, said, “Okay!”  So I made the connection and then…then, my friends, The Italian serenaded Plush with…Brandy.  As in, “Plush, you’re fine girl, what a good wife you would be! But my life, my love and my lady is the sea.”

Seriously.

Plush laughed and complimented his singing.  This was generous of her because Plush…well, suffice to say that Plush can sing.  Then I told the Italian that he should sing the theme song from Fresh Prince of Bel-Air (one of his favorite things to do).  He asked her to sing along.  Did I mention that Plush was at the gym and on the ab machine?  Yeah.  So I pointed my handy Treo at the phone and recorded it as they both sang the entire song…The Italian while driving and Plush while doing crunches.

These two must never meet.  Complete chaos would ensue.  However, it is hopeless to wish some things never to come to pass because the Italian is coming to Chicago to visit this summer and I know he will not rest until he has a dose of Plush.

Prepare thyself, Random.

1. I wonder what my life would like if I had gone to Juilliard for music. No one asked me. I’m just wondering.

[See comments for clarification on that one, to and from SnarkyRunner]

2. I really have a distaste for watching someone pull on a pair of worn-before socks. Especially if they study the socks for toe-shapes to see if it goes on the left or right foot. Disturbing. Not as disturbing, however, as someone wearing only socks. I really can’t think of a good excuse for that.

3. Boss and I went to a (private) tasting last night. We tried 5 appetizers, 9 entrees and 4 desserts..for just the two of us. It was insane but a good opportunity to try a lot of different things. We had to be rolled out. I admit, it was sort of fun to see people watching and wondering why were had so much food coming out or why I was scribbling notes down the whole time.

4. If you could be fluent in five languages, what would they be?

5. I turned in an expense report about 6 weeks ago. I asked Fresh Express for a status and she looked at me blankly. I then remembered that I was supposed to get a new keyboard a few months ago. You know, I’m not sure what she does other than play in the water fountains all day.

1. While in Paris, a conversation struck up amongst us Americans about bidets. One young woman said that her friend at home in Michigan had a bidet …and that said friend’s teenage daughter loved it.

*blink*

I’m not judgin’. I’m just sayin’.

2. Despite crawling through my front door very late on Sunday, I managed to get to the office on Monday morning and take The Ballerina to dinner that night. After we watched some TV and I dropped her off at home, I think I’d been awake about 50 hours straight. Anyway, back to my point - when making dinner plans with The Ballerina, she sent me a text that said she was buying perfume. At dinner, I learned that it was her “Summer perfume.” I must have looked puzzled because she told me that she buys a new perfume for each season. She shoved a wrist across the table and I smelled. I admit. She smelled nice. You know, it’s sort of ridiculous that I find these high maintenance habits charming in a person.

3. While in Italy, I was rather aggressively approached by someone who, in a not so subtle manner, suggested making love for two hours. A complete stranger, mind you. This was in front of a group of people who broke out into wide grins and watched my awkward handling of the situation. Had it been someone else *cough* in Italy, I’d have gladly grabbed her hand and ran off to the nearest dark corner but, as it was….not so much.

4. Since I returned from Europe, I have a new goal: I am going to become an alcoholic. I realize this is setting the bar rather low for most attorneys but as someone who just doesn’t drink much, I now realize that it wasn’t for any other reason other than I’d been drinking the wrong thing. Now, however, I have seen the light. By 10 a.m. this morning, I’d purchased a 12 pack of Erdinger Weisbier and Warsteiner Dunkel. Nothing will quite recapture Switzerland, Austria or Germany but I’ll give it a go. Maybe I should ask Plush to wear this:

Let’s share a few flaws, shall we?

RandomEsq has taken great pleasure in sharing some of my more desirable traits with the readers of this blog, and I’m not complaining (it’s nice to have someone notice those things, and even more nice to have someone notice these other things too but choose to focus on the good stuff!). But I think it’s time I threw a few curveballs out there, so here are my Top 5 Faults (in no particular order):

1) I am a smoker.
I’ve quit a few times, and I have been intending to quit again for months…but I always figured I’d really quit when my body told me it was time, and frankly, I haven’t felt the climactic moment hit yet. That, and…

2) I have very little willpower.
It’s true - I’m a sucker for Camels, and also for Crunch-flavored Dibs, boxes of Lucky Charms, and various flavors of ice cream. My metabolism is currently doing a weird thing where I don’t gain weight like I probably should, so my candy indulgence is going unchecked for now. But this isn’t just a sweet tooth - I can honestly go into a room with a bowl of M&M’s, tell myself I don’t want them, recognize that I’m not even hungry, and still have to figure out a good explanation for why the M&M’s are all gone half an hour later.

3) I get cranky easily.
RE has mentioned this in a few posts, I believe, commenting on a rather odd preference for cranky women. Thank goodness for that, because seriously, I’m an absolute bitch in the morning unless a few very strict rules are followed. These rules, which generally include things like kissing me until I smile and then demanding absolutely nothing of me for the first hour I’m awake, are subject to change without notice.

4) I’m a quitter.
This one is rather embarrassing, and I didn’t know this until recently, but I’ve come to realize that I am, in fact, a quitter (except, of course, when it comes to Camel Ultra Lights). I never had to practice piano back in the days of piano lessons, I never had to study, and whenever I’ve encountered a situation that requires hard work, I somehow manage to convince myself that it’s just not meant to be. How, you may ask, has a successful and accomplished adult managed to make it through her life thus far when she’s a frickin’ quitter? I’ll get back to you on that one, ’cause I’m not sure how I did it either.

5) I have really calloused feet. Okay, this one’s not as personal and deep as the rest, but honestly, it’s ridiculous. I love to be barefoot and tend to wear nothing but sandals and high heels in the spring, summer, and fall, until my toes are frozen and I admit defeat. But this leads to big callouses, and I have spent most of my adult life battling them with various forms of pumace, harsh scrubs, foot soaks, and lotions. I recently invested in an actual electric pumace thingy, handheld with 3 different attachments (no, it doesn’t vibrate, sadly) and my feet won that fight within 5 minutes. At the moment, however, thanks to 2 hours of work yesterday, my feet are baby butt smooth.

I’m over at a friend’s family’s house, and the rest of the folks here have passed out. I’m somehow still awake, the only one not knocked unconscious by heavy drinking, which is unusual considering my moderately light tolerance…guess I wasn’t trying hard enough. Though spelling is a little difficult…thank goodness bloggers have spellcheck…

So a bit tipsy and sitting outside with a dying fire, I’m feeling introspective (okay, it doesn’t take alcohol and fires to make me introspective, I’m that way normally) and just wanted to put it out there:

Don’t ever take the ones you love for granted.

I don’t just mean that in the idea that you shouldn’t assume they’ll handle things they could do for you, or in any other trivial way. This week has been tough on my friends and family - an alarming number of people have wound up in the hospital or actually died during the past 7 days, and I’m feeling nervous whenever the phone rings right now. Today I got word that a friend’s dad had died, and not only was it unexpected, but the circumstances were just heartbreaking - this friend was out celebrating his bachelor party weekend, and his dad died while swimming in the ocean with his daughter, a 21-year old lifeguard. He was healthy and in decent shape, but the undertow caught him and there was just nothing she could do…

My folks are out of touch right now, up north at our cabin, and I’m going to be on high alert until they call me on Monday to let me know they’re heading home; RandomEsq is somewhere wandering around Europe and I’m going to be checking my email at insanely regular intervals to be sure that no emergency overseas flights are necessary; and my puppy is going to be leashed and watched like a hawk until this passes.

I’m not sure why I’m compelled to post this, as I’m not in need of sympathy or anything for myself. I guess that, in my drunken state, I just wanted to put it out there that life can change in an instant.

I was reading one of the Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff books recently, waiting for my highlights to set at the salon, and got caught up by one section in a similar vein. It said that you should always act toward your loved ones as if this might be the last time you’re going to see them - never letting an argument continue out the door, never going to bed angry, never leaving for work without kissing someone goodbye and telling them you love them. I’d already taken that sentiment to heart but now…let’s just say that now, ain’t no way my loved ones are hanging up the phone or leaving for work without hearing just how much I love them. It’s worth every extra second.

Got your attention?

I was hanging out with Benefactor the other night, and he’s reading the new Chuck Palahniuk book: Snuff. I haven’t read any of Palahniuk’s books, despite good intentions (I used to read 3 or 4 books at a time but have been oddly slacking lately…), but I’ve heard stories about his last book causing actual spontaneous vomiting during live readings. I read that particular story, and it was admittedly horrifyingly gross, but I can’t imagine actually throwing up in public just because someone read it out loud. *shrug*

Anyway, this one is supposedly the story of an attempt to break the world record for a gang bang. 600 men, one woman, and a film crew. It’s told from the point of view of 3 of the men (numbers 72, 137, and 600) in graphic detail - supposedly Palahniuk did a lot of field research before writing the book.

The thing about it for me is that I’m kind of jealous. Not of the characters (can you imagine how pulverized you’d be down there after 600…never mind, just UGH), but of the writer. How great must it be to just put it all out there, something so taboo and yet so train-wreck-intriguing, and to be able to do it in such a way that it actually comes off as an intellectual work of art. I’ve written a lot of crazy stuff (I actually used to post regularly on Literotica…) but can’t imagine any of it as a best-seller…

I reached for my phone this evening to call RandomEsq. Imagine my disappointment when I realized that no one was going to answer.

I don’t remember if there was a specific post about how we met…I think we kind of left it as one of the many mysteries in this anonymous blogosphere. And I think we did that on purpose because honestly, how many people want to admit that they met online? Yeah, yeah, we met online, but not the way you’re thinking - I’ve never even been to Match.com. No, we met because we both have cute little wrinkly dogs, and I was relatively new to the city, so we got together for a drink one night to talk about our cute little wrinkly dogs, and, well - here I am!

That night, by the way, was easily the best date-that-I-wasn’t-sure-was-a-date-until-we-were-making-out I’ve ever had. Just saying.

So speaking of dates, I’m curious about a rather odd trend among my male friends - specifically the shy, kind of awkward but genuinely great guys. The stereotypical “nice guys.” The two I’m thinking of are both very smart, sweet, great listeners, the whole deal, they’re just not so great at the flirting. They’ve had girlfriends, they’ve been in love, they’re not socially inept by any means. But they’re the ones you’d see sitting quietly in the corner of the party, content to watch everyone else get wild and paw at each other while they smile, sip their drink, and kind of wish they had the nerve to jump in.

These are also, apparently, the kind of guys who are invited on all-expenses paid trips overseas to have no-strings-attached sex with women they barely know.

About a year ago, guy #1 and I met for lunch, and he looked unusually giddy. Giddy with a dollop of perplexed. He had met a lovely woman at a friend’s party, and they’d hit it off and had been emailing and talking on the phone regularly. The catch was that she lived in Australia, and was only in town for a few weeks. The perplexed giddiness was that she’d just offered to fly him to Australia for a weekend, get carnal in her beach house, then part ways with no commitments.

About a month ago, guy #2 and I were chatting about relationships, and he mentioned that he’d recently run into a girl he’d known in college. She had the hots for him back then, and was apparently still hoping that they could hook up. However, she lives in northern California, he lives in the Midwest. The solution? They’re spending this weekend in her friend’s penthouse in Dubai. She paid for his ticket.

All I’ve gotta say is, score one for the nice guys.

Well, RandomEsq is somewhere in the air over the Atlantic right now, and that means you’re stuck with me for the next few weeks. I’m going to try to blog daily, but if by some chance I miss a day, I’ll make up for it somehow.

If you have any fun and interesting questions for me, send ‘em along - we can play a little truth or dare.