Mason Against The World

Making the Cannoli Cut

2010-04-06T12:59:00.005-05:00

When I was in high school my mom would often have me run to the grocery store for her once I was old enough to drive. God knows I didn't mind having an excuse to get behind the wheel so it was pretty much a win-win situation for everyone. I'd go down to Stop'n'Go and get myself a giant cherry coke and then cruise on over to the grocery store with the parent's credit card in hand. The other win-win about this scenario was that if I saw just about anything I wanted in the grocery store I'd throw it into the cart, too. Hair products, school supplies, ice cream, sodas, Cookie Crisp Cereal.. basically whatever my 16 year old heart desired (and usually didn't need).

In roughly 1997 I got onto a kick where I decided that I loved the Italian dessert called the Cannoli. I was beyond amazed to learn that the filling was just sweetened ricotta cheese. How simple. How delicious. It was on one of the above mentioned trips to the grocery store for my mom that I came across a box of cannoli shells on one of the aisles. "Holy Cannoli!" I thought "I could make my OWN." So I threw the box of cannoli shells into the basket and made my way to the dairy section to find me some ricotta cheese. I vaguely remember experimenting with the ricotta cheese later and succeeding quite nicely in making a tasty filling. The shells, however, never got put to use and remained in the box in the pantry.

My friend, Jazmin, and I would often end up at my parent's house after school and find ourselves rummaging through the pantry for something to snack on. The joke (and frustration) was that their pantry, though enormous and probably the size of my current home's master bathroom, never seemed to have anything SNACK related in it. Tons of ingredients but nothing instant. My mom cooks a lot so there aren't usually a lot of throw-into-your-mouth or instant gratification food items in their pantry but rather tons of ingredients that one would combine together in order to facilitate an entire meal; something two 16 year olds were not about to do at 4:30 on a Tuesday afternoon. We wanted chips, cookies, ANYTHING. And there it was, that damn box of cannoli shells I had purchased. We would always come across it and laugh. I think we half thought about eating them one day out of sheer desperation.

As an aside, my mom's motto has always been "when in doubt, throw it out." We're talking about a woman who practically defines the word "clean." I used to come home from school to find that my bedroom closet had been "re-organized" for me. Privacy violated too, sure, but the point is the lady is tidy. Bookshelves and cabinets were always re-ordered, furniture was rearranged, carpets were always shampooed and, of course, the pantry was no exception either. That sucker was organized on what seemed to be a quarterly basis. If something seemed to be close to expiration? TOSS IT. Where's the olive oil?! Oh, it's over here in the "oils and dressings" section now, got it.

Fast forward with me, if you will. It's April, 2010. It's today as a matter of fact. My parent's have since (3 yrs ago) moved from my childhood home into a house they built. My mom is still as organized as she always has been and probably more so today than ever before. Theirs is a house in which she personally designed a spot for every belonging. Hardly any furniture from the old house even made the cut. Hand-picked, tediously designed and meticulously coordinated is each corner. There is not one but rather two housekeepers that work for them now and there is not one huge pantry in the new kitchen but rather two. And through it all, through the many "when in doubt, throw it outs," the estate sale at the previous house, the move to a new house, the countless cleanings and reorganizing by both my mom and the housekeepers and most impressively through the span of nearly 13 years and two different houses I still walk into the pantry every time I'm home to find that box of cannoli shells circa 1997.

I send a photo to Jazmin from my cell phone each time I'm home. How did these things make the cut for so long?! Maybe it's because the box is wrapped in plastic, is unopened and appears to be new. Or maybe because my mom didn't physically buy them and therefore she doesn't really know how hold they are. Either way, I laugh every time I see them and I now make a habit of checking to ensure that they still exist when I come home to visit. I'll never let anyone (besides Jazmin and apparently you) know how old they are because if my mom had any idea those things were 13 years old she'd throw them away so fast your head would spin. Instead, I pull them off the shelf each time, take a look at them, send a picture to Jazmin, and then slide them right back into place until my next visit.

I want to see how long these things make it. I would legitimately be upset if I came home to find they were missing and probably horrified, on so many levels, at the idea that they were possibly consumed. By the way, they've even moved locations within the pantry several times since they made the transition to the new house three years ago. Right now they're in the upper right side of the pantry near dry pastas and canned goods. That's the reorganizing at work. None the less, here they are in all their glory like a time capsule holding all the secrets of 1997; "Hand Rolled Cannoli Shells:"

May I one day inherit them so that I may display them proudly in my own pantry. May they live on forever.

¡Viva Cannoli!
M.db

YOUR FOOD IS READY

2010-03-16T15:06:00.005-05:00

I sometimes think about the silliest of things. One of them being the fact that it is someone's job, somewhere, to dictate what the readout will say on my microwave's digital display when the cooking cycle is complete. Told ya I think about silly things. Along the same lines- labels on the inside of your clothes that list washing instructions; someone wrote that. Someone spell checked it to make sure it didn't say "machin wash" with an 'e' missing or something. It was someone's job to phrase it properly and decide how to word it. The stitching on your car's floor-mat, someone decided where it would say "BMW" on that mat and in what font and size. There's a design for everything, a process of checks and balances in place for every minor detail of every product's wording and appearance before it is released into the public. Someone typed it, someone proof-read it, someone's boss approved it. Nothing has been published or printed on anything we see in our daily lives that didn't intentionally get thought out and I find that so interesting. Somewhere in the world there is a person who was either directly or indirectly responsible for the way 'Push Here,' 'Twist to Open,' 'Remove Before Use' and a million other phrases appear on our products/belongings.

When I microwave something the digital display reads "Your Food Is Ready" after the heating cycle is complete. Secretly this irks me. Why does it assume I'm heating up FOOD?! Sometimes I'm re-heating my coffee. What if I've placed one of those heat packs for sore muscles in the microwave? But back to my original point, this had to be programmed. Someone out there had to design the digital pixels (or... whatever they are possibly called) to spell out "Your Food Is Ready" in the robot-font that is digital text. Who decided it would say that?! Assuming it's always "food" that is "ready" is funny to me. I own it, I'm bizarre. I think about it every time though. Someone had to decide they wanted it to say that particular phrase and I dare say it's quite presumptious.

And then I saw a microwave that was even more entertaining than mine. I was in another person's kitchen and happened to notice that after the heating cycle was complete, this particular microwave simply states "GOOD" across the screen. I almost laughed out loud.

"GOOD" No further explanation. Just "GOOD." As in.. "All is well here. things are good. cycle complete. good" What does it mean?!

"GOOD! Glad that's over with" ?
"GOOD! You get to eat now" ?
"I did GOOD, I heated up some stuff" ?
"I'm still working.. GOOD" ?
"Whatever is inside is gonna taste GOOD" ?

There's someone out there who decided "GOOD" needed to be displayed on that screen.

GOOD,
M.db

Don't cost a DIME

2010-03-15T20:42:00.004-05:00

I was walking home from the grocery store and pondering finances, as it seems most people are in this age of Obamanomics. I actually was making a list in my head of things that are free. "Going to the gym is free, why am I not in amazing shape?" I thought. And "taking a hot shower is free(ish)," etc. Well the "why is everything complicated expression" must have been written all over my face because as I passed a seemingly homeless man he ironically said "aint nothin wrong with a smile, ya know."

A few seconds earlier as I was approaching him and he started to speak to me I had expected him to ask me for something (read: money). It would have been the third time on that very walk that I was asked for change by someone so don't blame me for profiling. In this city I have learned to look straight ahead and respond with either nothing or "sorry." But I was caught off guard by his words so instead of nothing or "sorry" I did smile as I passed by, because he was right. There really isn't anything wrong with a smile. And as I smiled and walked away he noticed my changed expression and yelled out for the entire block to hear "see! SEE! Now THAT'S what I'm talkin' about people, that shit don't cost a DIME!" and laughed as he, himself, smiled. I smiled even bigger, but this time I made sure to turn back around so he could see it.

His words weren't eloquently spoken but they were poignant. There I was, shuffling my feet along the sidewalk with my head down with thoughts like "if it's not one thing it's another" or "mo' money, mo' problems' (ha! pop-culture-song reference) and this man who seemingly had nothing reminded me, in so few words, that nothing can't be smiled through. I had literally just been making a list of things that were free so I could save some cash and not be so down about it and had left off one of the most important things.

And see? SEE!? That's what *I'M* talking about people. That's some good and needed advice from an unexpected source. And that shit? That shit don't cost a DIME!

Smile,
M.db

Update: WiFi names

2010-03-11T13:34:00.001-06:00

re: the post titled WiFi a couple months back, I actually recently came across a funny WiFi name that I referenced in that post and this time I took a screen-shot of it on my phone. Someone in or around the Chicago Bagel Authority restaurant on Armitage has not only a WiFi network but a sense of humor, too.

M.db

Aeronautical Germs

2010-03-11T12:49:00.002-06:00

I cringe at the statistics you hear about household germs and those reports you see on TV showing just how dirty hotel bed comforters really are or when the reporter takes a black light to your kitchen and reveals that there is leftover bacteria from raw chicken EVERYWHERE. I suppose it's something to be aware of but I hate the idea of having to worry about one more thing. It is probably more accurate for me to say that I wish I didn't ever hear these statistics or see the reports in the first place because ignorance is bliss and, after all, these things haven't killed me. In fact they may have even made me stronger for all I know, possibly built my tolerance if you will. That's what a flu shot is, right? It IS a dose of the flu so that when the flu actually DOES come your way your body is like "been there, done that." So yeah, I just may be immune to the Holiday Inn at this point.

So this one report I heard said that you should always close the lid to your toilette before flushing because germs can fly out of the pot for up to ____ feet (I think it was like 18 or something crazy) and land anywhere from your toothbrush to your face or inside your mouth if you're a mouth breather or you yawn a lot after peeing. That last one I just assumed to be true, and why not. And herein lies the reason that I wish I could be ignorant to these facts/reports/scare-tactics: because I NEVER seem to forget them and will reference them in my mind every time I'm in the kitchen, bathroom, wallowing on the comforter at a roadside motel (no), etc.

I enjoy my morning coffee in the shower. It's what I do. I love hot showers and jacuzzi baths and anything that involves me standing or sitting still while hot water is all around me. It's relaxing. And so is coffee. So the two combine together is a blissful experience. Besides, the sheer efficiency of doing both morning routines together makes sense. We'll talk about the fact that I brush my teeth in the shower at a later date but it, too, is an efficient way to kill two birds with one stone. The point of this ramble is that I have a hard time with the coffee, toilette-to-mug proximity, and these germs that perform aerial acrobatics out of the commode every time I flush it. I mean if I pee before I shower, do I run out of the room with my coffee the second I push down on that lever like I've just lit a firecracker and I am taking shelter from the explosion?

If all of these statistics about how dirty our lives REALLY are and what ACTUALLY goes on 'behind the kitchen door' at restaurants are true, well.. so be it. I've only gotten food poisoning twice, I've never gotten crabs from a hotel (knock on wood), and I'm still doing pretty okay in the health department even though sometimes I flush the toilette with the lid open while my haz-mat suit happens to be at the cleaners and I'm therefore not wearing it. I think a good rule of thumb is "don't be disgusting." Clean up after yourself, throw some bleach on your durable surfaces here and there (maybe on your jeans, too, if it's 1985) and kind of don't worry about the rest.

I, unfortunately, can't take my own advice and will probably still clean my kitchen sink until my hands are raw after I've cut up a chicken breast, will still worry a little bit about the fact that I just peed while my coffee was sitting on the bathroom counter and if you ever go into a restroom at the movie theater and see a guy holding his soft drink as high as he can over his head while he is belly up to the urinal, well.. say hello because it's probably me. Wait 'til I'm done peeing AND done flushing though. For starters, because it would be weird otherwise and B). you don't want to be opening your mouth to say hello at the precise moment I flush and those germs get all Cique du Soleil on us.

Good day,
M.db

WiFi

2009-10-27T00:17:00.002-05:00

Technology, Technology, everywhere..

When I connected to the wireless internet in my condo, I pick up at least 7 other signals. Mine is simply named "Mason" (so clever, right?!). Most people just name their secure connection their first name or condo number. Others are a bit more witty.

I love the idea of someone being funny while full well knowing that they'll never see the person who gets to enjoy their humor laugh. Point being- people name their wireless networks some pretty damn funny things. They're aware that it'll show up on someone's phone, someone's computer next door, or that a neighbor will see it in their list and try to jump onto their network. When I'm on the bus and try to open a web page on my iPhone it will ask if I want to connect to some of the various wireless networks that happen to be in that area, so that's always entertaining. Here's a few of the funny names of wireless networks I've seen lately either on my phone or laptop while in public:

"Where Are The Wires?!"
"XXX Live Nude Shower Cam"
"Get Off My Internet!"

I keep my eye out, now, for the funny ones, gives me a little chuckle.

G'night,
M.db

4 Stars

2009-10-14T14:52:00.002-05:00

There is this Italian place that I really like in my area, great homemade pasta. I went the other night and had a deliciously huge meal. Too big to finish, in fact, so I brought the leftovers home and anxiously anticipated eating them for lunch the next afternoon (read: mid-morning).

When I was sitting on the couch consuming my pasta with veal meatballs I found a piece of plastic in my food. More specifically in my mouth after I put the food in there. I just removed the plastic and kept eating. That pasta was too damn good to stop eating over a little piece of plastic wrap. Besides, track record stands that the place rocks my world enough to not worry about one mistake.

It's funny; sometimes when you love something a great deal you're willing to overlook some of its shortcomings and continue on, knowing that as a whole the experience is too good to possibly be destroyed by a tiny ___(insert imperfection, piece of plastic, mistake, etc. here)______.

Something to think about and apply where necessary,
M.db

Seven Thirty Two on the Third

2009-08-03T09:26:00.005-05:00

I woke up at 7:32 this morning. I know, because I grabbed my cell phone to see what time it was and thought to myself "ugh, I still have another hour before my alarm is going to go off, why am I awake?!" But I got up anyway because I was wide awake which, if you know me you know, is rare for me before 8am.

It was almost an hour later that I realized it was August 3rd as I was listening to the morning news in the background while I got ready for my day. I still have the voicemail from Brian's mom saved in my iPhone's 'visual voicemail' letting me know he had just passed away. When I realized that was exactly a month ago today I went back to my visual voicemail, it was received at 7:32am, July 3rd. I broke into tears when I realized that exactly a month ago, and right down to the exact minute, I was waking up to you being gone and you still are.

I haven't cried but once since your funeral, until today. Every time I talk about you dying I feel like I'm speaking in third person. When I say how hard it was, when I say how strong you were, when I talk about the immense loss I feel.. it's as if I'm reading a script or recounting someone elses words. I still haven't been able to wrap my mind around the fact that you're gone. I think my mind has taken over and whipped myself into denial the minute my heart starts to hurt. I'll see something and think "oh man, wait'll I tell Brian about THIS" and then I realize I can't, but quickly move my mind on to something else, as if on autopilot, completely out of my control. You're probably just on vacation and coming back soon.

Yesterday I was in the elevator with that one annoying guy who lives in my building that we used to always joke about. I grabbed my cell phone out of my pocket, like a reflex, and pretended I was text messaging as I snapped a picture of him to send to you as a joke. It wasn't until after I had already taken the picture that I remembered there was no point in taking a picture because you're not here to send it to. I was even more sad thinking of how I couldn't call you and tell you about another one of my trademarked awkward situations I had just gotten myself into: my cell phone made that obnoxiously loud photo-lens clicking sound effect as I snapped the pic in the quiet elevator. You see I had forgotten to silence the phone before my sneaky photo taking move and it was super obvious I had taken a picture. How creepy of me. Busted!

There's been so many things I've wanted to tell you about in the past month. I walked home from a house party on Friday and had to stop myself from calling you about 20 times to tell you about all the people I ran into and have one of our late-night phone chats about how silly people are. All those silly people are still around but why aren't you?! So many people running around taking up space and yet you were amazing and you're gone and the world isn't a better place as a result. In fact it's worse. A new song came out on the radio that I like, it didn't exist while you were alive. There's a movie I want to see that I KNOW you'd go to with me, it wasn't released while you were living. Everything that happened in your life was put on pause a month ago, today. It's a panic-like feeling that shoots through me when I think about life and time continuing on yet everything in your life stopped on July 3rd, 2009.

You used to get on me all the time for not blogging enough because you liked to read it. I still see your name on my blog's main page listed as one of my blog's "followers." You'd be mad at me for not having blogged in a month and even more irritated at me for writing about you and sad topics TWICE in a row. I know people are supposed to be happy to have had a wonderful person in their life and remember the good times with a smile, but I'm just not there yet, not the smiling part anyway. I'm mad. Yes, I'm so thankful for how much you touched my life and can't even express what an amazing person you were, but I'm still not done being mad you had to go. I am, however, glad you're not hurting. I'm just selfish for now. I WANT to know what you're up to. What are you doing RIGHT now? What were YOU doing at 7:32am when I was waking up a month after you left? Is there even such a thing as 'time' where you are? Can you see what's going on down here? Does it even matter that I wasn't able to email you a photo of the annoying elevator dude as a joke because you could watch that situation unfold from where you are now? If I say something loud enough, will you hear it? If I cried this morning did you know?

I want to tell you how Aaron, Scott, Jen and I are all better friends now because of how much we've bonded over our loss. I want you to know how sweet your family is, how good they all were to us when we were in Kansas for your funeral and how much we've all been in touch. I got to see your hometown!! I want you to know that your nephew you loved so much will always remember you because we're all going to make sure of it. I want to thank you for all the kind things you apparently told your family about our friendship and how important you told them I was to you; I knew, but I had no idea all at the same time. Oh MAN you're sister has done SO good with everything. The funeral was exactly the way you wanted it. You picked the perfect songs and she had them played just like you requested. Oh, and congrats- I bawled like a baby, you turd.

I used to think it was somewhat odd that people would be sad on the anniversary of a loved one's death. I realize it's bound to be a hard day but always figured birthdays and holidays would be the hardest. I don't want to focus on you leaving but I understand now how hard the anniversary of the day someone goes away can be.

I had never heard the song "Ships of Heaven" that you picked for your funeral but its words will forever impact me and remind me of you. "No unforgiven sins and no regrets just the times of our lives that we'll never forget."

I'm going to work on that 'being mad' thing, I promise.

Brian Dec 2008:

Mason, Scott, Brian, Aimee and Aaron - July 14th, 2008:

Aaron, Brian and Mason. July 2nd, 2009:

"Don't cry for me when I'm gone
Keep the faith and be strong
'Cause through it all I've been blessed
I faced my fears
And I've passed the test
So when you look up in the sky
On a sunny day
Imagine me drifting away

I'll be sailing on the ships of heaven
When the tide rolls out for the
Last time
You'll find me sailing on the ships of heaven
Waiting for the day
I come sailing back to you

Remember all the times we had
Some were great and some were sad
But you know that in the end
Our love was stronger than when we began
No unforgiven sins and no regrets
Just the times of our lives that we'll
Never Forget

I'll be sailing on the ships of heaven
When the tide rolls out for the
Last time
You'll find me sailing on the ships of heaven
Waiting for the day
I come sailing back to you."
-"Ships of Heaven" - Blackhawk

M.db

Brian

2009-07-03T18:29:00.002-05:00

In the past few years that I have known my friend Brian I have learned so much about friendship and life from him. One of the few people on this planet I know I could reach out to at any hour of the day or night and certainly one of the best friends I've ever had the honor of knowing. He was truly an extraordinary soul that I was privileged to have in my life. I lost that friend to his cancer battle this morning. I'm not sure where to place my emotions just yet. I've cried until I can't cry anymore, or so I think, and then it starts again. The past few weeks have been so hard as his condition worsened. I tried to visit Brian at his apartment every day if possible.

So much of me wants to SCREAM in anger. Anger that years ago when his doctors diagnosed him with this hideous disease they told him he'd never live to see 30 and he died this morning just a week short of his 30th birthday. THAT is not fair. Anger that my calendar says that on July 11th I have a birthday party to attend, Brian's birthday party, and instead his funeral is scheduled to be that day. Anger that I have to bury my friend and the only person I want to call at 3am when I can't sleep because I'm upset about doing so IS him.

I'm comforted that Brian left exactly how he expressed he wanted to in these last few weeks; surrounded by family and friends, not in a hospital. Each of his close family members and close friends were able to be in his apartment all day yesterday after we were contacted to know that things were looking worse. Popping into his room, from time to time, to say hi and visit and then spending time in the other room letting him rest. Brian never pretended that nothing was wrong and as the evening wore on he called his family in to make sure they went over his funeral arrangements one more time with him. In typical Brian style he joked about what songs he refused to have played at his funeral because they were either "too dramatic" or "been done too many times before." His good friend and oncology nurse pulled his family aside to make sure they knew that Brian was making those arrangements because he knew his time was getting shorter.

I want to run in circles because my brain can't wrap itself around what my heart is feeling.

Brian's mom put it best when she said to me last night "I have learned a lot about the process of dying from Brian but, oh, how I've learned so much more about living from him." I couldn't agree more.

After having spent most of the day at Brian's I had to come home to let the dog out and almost didn't go back. I'm so glad I went back, one last time, to see if his friends and family who were gathered there needed anything else. Besides, I knew I couldn't sleep. It was almost 2am when I left his place, but before I did, I stepped into Brian's bedroom to say goodnight because he had woken up again. He perked his eyes up and said "hey!" in a tone that seemed to so casually say "hey there buddy what's up?!", though his voice was soft and strained. I told him I didn't want to disturb him but just wanted to say goodnight before I left. I told him I would see him tomorrow, though. The last thing Brian said to me was "did you have a good time?!" Maybe he was referring to the time I spent hanging out with his friends and family in the next room, or maybe he was referring to the time I've been lucky enough to spend with him on Earth. Either way, he didn't reciprocate when I said I'd see him tomorrow, rather he just said "ok, love you" with a "we'll see about that" tone in his voice and a smile out of the corner of his mouth. He looked at me as I left as if he knew something I didn't know.

A few short hours later, Brian's last remaining close friend finally made it into town on the red-eye flight from Seattle. He got to Brian's apartment at 6am, directly from the airport. Brian passed away 30 minutes later, with his mom at his side, having said goodbye to every close person in his life. She sang him a song that she used to sing to him as he fell asleep when he was a child. As she started to sing it for a second time he stopped breathing.

Yep, Brian, to answer your question I did have a good time. I really really hope you did, too. I'll take your lessons of strength, friendship, devotion and humor with me EVERY single day of my life. I will carry with me the sound of your voice when I need to be calmed down at 3am for whatever pickle I've gotten myself into and no one is there to call. I'll remember hearing you for the last time and I'll answer your question over and over again in my head when I get sad: "Yes. I had a good time."

I can't promise that I won't dial your number still from time to time, just out of habit. No promises that I won't be sad you're gone. But I've got promises for days that I'll never forget you as long as I live.

I hope when it's my time to go I can look back at this life and say "I had a good time" and then turn towards heaven where I know I've got a buddy waiting to show me around. Save me a seat.

Happy early birthday, Brian.
I will miss you until I see you again.

Love always,
Mason.

Waiting to Inhale

2009-06-10T11:40:00.003-05:00

Whenever someone jogs past me, and they're all sweaty, I try not to breathe in until they've passed by. You know how you feel that breeze as they run by? I hate when that breeze full of smell hits me. I'll breathe out for as long as possible, sometimes like 15 straight seconds, until they are long gone so as not to suck in any of their sweat-smell. I nearly pass out several times at the gym as a result.

Smells are so weird, they say it's the last thing you forget or the sense that you remember the longest- whichever way you want to look at it. I guess that's why I have walked into a random location and suddenly had a vivid memory of my elementary school cafeteria just because of the smell in that particular place. Speaking of, I could really go for some rectangle shaped pizza from an elementary school cafeteria right about now. You know what I also loved? School spaghetti and meat sauce. I wish it was on the menu at restaurants. If it were served at a restaurant I wouldn't want it to be all fancied up either, I want it to be watery, made in bulk, and served on a tray that has separate dividers for your milk, veggies, bread and main course. Then I want the waiter to take my tray and be able to watch it get rinsed off back in the kitchen with that giant hose that comes down from the ceiling operated by someone wearing a hair net, JUST like in school. Okay maybe not all of those things, but most. How is that for a smell memory?

I don't want to remember people's body odor though. So, moral of the story: I try to not form the memory in the first place. I see 'em coming and I just take a deep breath in and hope that mo-fo is running fast because for the next several seconds this guy is exhaling until they're gone.

M.db

Roaring Delicious

2009-06-06T15:09:00.006-05:00

Mason could live off cheese, yes he could. It's sad, really, how good food makes me almost melt with satisfaction. I wish I could travel the world eating things for a living. My job title would be "professional consumer."

I have a new favorite cheese to add to the list. King's Island Roaring 40's Blue Cheese from Australia. The 'Roaring 40's' part of the name comes from the King's Island's 40th latitude location and the roaring winds that pass through that area.

Yum!
M.db

You'll Never Walk Alone

2009-05-29T15:49:00.004-05:00

I met a friend downtown today for lunch at 11. Then I ended up walking around for hours and miles downtown with my camera. Chicago is such a gorgeous city, especially in the summer. I walked across the entire downtown area, photographing random things and soaking in the glory of it all. From the Loop, through Millennium Park, down to the South Loop, across to The History Museum, over to the Adler Planetarium and ended at the lake outside of the Museum Campus before returning home. It felt wonderful.

When I finally made my way back up to my place on the train I saw a guy's tattoo that I really liked for some reason. I usually only like a strategically placed tattoo, if at all, or something that obviously means something to the person donning it. I pretended to be messing with my iPhone/iPod and snapped a pic:

M.db

Elevator One Upped (again!)

2009-05-28T15:44:00.002-05:00

I seem to keep blogging about things that happen in the elevator. Probably because it's a 45 second to 1 minute situation where you're completely captive with a stranger (or strangers) and strange they sometimes are!

Just now, I got one upped with my "have a nice day" comment, again! I posted previously about someone who I wished a good day to upon exiting the elevator and they responded with "have a GREAT day." Today, I told a man "have a nice afternoon" and I departed on my floor and he replied "have a GREAT afternoon." Not in that enthusiastic tone you might give when you truly want someone to have a great afternoon but rather in a "I can one up ya there, bucko. I'll see your GOOD afternoon and raise you a GREAT one" and then BAM, doors close, and I have no chance to respond with something clever like "oh yeah, well you have a fucking AWESOME afternoon, take that!"

Oh well, I'll be quicker on my feet next time!
M.db

well it IS manure, so...

2009-05-26T13:27:00.003-05:00

On the elevator just now, two girls got on one holding a houseplant.

Girl 1: "I heard fertilizer caused house fires, you know, like people don't leave it in their garages and stuff because it can cause fires."

Girl 2: "Well it IS manure, so.."

Girl 1 (after a short, confused pause and in a call-you-out tone): "so...??"

..and that's where the conversation ended. I really enjoyed the flawed logic that Girl 2 decided to dish out to her friend. I mean I can't remember the last time my feces burst into flames upon exiting my body. I guess I flush, though, so who knows?! IS manure flameable? Should I be picking up my dogs 'mistakes' faster than usual on the living room floor for fear of the building burning down? Should I, too, worry about the destructive capabilities of my houseplants and their fertilized soil? I'll probably just not worry about it too much. I've got fire sprinklers in this condo after all.

Today for lunch I popped into PotBelly to grab a sandwich. It was like a child convention in there. 16 screaming children being toted around by mothers who were pregnant (again). It was incredible. I thought I was on a candid camera show, for serious. I said to myself out loud "you've GOT to be kidding me" when 3 pregnant women walked in at the same time and a woman with ANOTHER double-stroller filtered in behind them. If you go to the park, you expect to see a few dogs. But it'd be weird to go to the park and see a herd of dogs, none of which came together. Same with babies, it's fine, I expect to see babies and their mothers wandering around town in the middle of the day but in one restaurant to see a gaggle? Kinda random and weird. What are they all doing, flying north for the winter together in a flock and stopping for lunch on the way?!

People often misunderstand and think that being irritated with screaming children means I hate children and/or the people that bore them. Wrong. I don't care for obnoxiously loud and inconsiderate people in public whether they ARE children or HAVE children. I'm equal-opportunity with what irritates me. If I walked into a public dining establishment and there were 16 screeching parakeets, I'd be pretty irritated at the inconsiderate and obnoxious parakeets and their owners for not controlling them as well but it wouldn't mean I hate birds or bird owners as a general rule.

They just kept filing into the restaurant. While I was in line to order I had my foot (a foot with a toe that I dislocated last week attached to it, a foot that is still black and blue) rolled over by a double stroller twice. No "excuse me" or "I'm sorry." Just a new-mommy attitude of "bow down, world, I have a BABY so all bets are off. I'll do what I want and you will just deal with it because I had sex and a baby came out." All I heard in place of an 'excuse me' was "oh DON'T you?! yes you DO! yes you ARE! oh YES YOU ARE so cute! you ARE so cute, oh YES YOU ARE" coming from evvverrryyyy mother in the establishment in the direction of the other mother's babies.

News flash: they're not going to respond, they're infants.

BREAKING news flash: While you're mindlessly repeating yourself in the general direction of a stroller, your 5 year old, sorry I mean '60-month-old' since mom's can't count in years until their kid is in Jr. High, is screaming and throwing his sandwich on the floor behind you while I try to refrain from throwing mine at his head.

Who are these people who, in a horrible economic environment, are apparently millionaires and able to pop out kids at light speed and support them?! More power to you, just shut them the hell up when you're in public, within reason. Oh and watch where you're going, too. My foot: NOT your stroller's speed bump. My shins: NOT your kids punching bag. My personal space: Not yours.

That being sayd; a mother is the most admirable job in the entire world if you ask me. I personally know some incredible new(ish) moms- Kimberly and Crystal come to mind. I'm sure there's potential to be offended by my rant but let's look at it this way- we've all had bad teachers and seen obnoxious new mommies. Doesn't mean we hate all teachers or moms. The good ones are excluded from the rant:)

Mothers and teachers are the most under-(or not at all)-paid and under-appreciated individuals on the planet yet they do one of the most important jobs. Just like with any job, however, there are plenty of people who are amazing at that job and some who suck at it completely. Unfortunately the ones who sucked at it all had the same plan for lunch today as I did: Potbelly in Lincoln Park.

M.db

A BOAT!

2009-04-10T16:20:00.003-05:00

I got very excited just now looking out my window to see a lone yacht cruising into Montrose Harbor across the way. The first of the boats to return to that harbor for the summer. That means warm weather is officially not far off. It's always depressing when the harbors empty out for winter and so thrilling to see them fill back up. As I type I'm still watching the yacht dock itself and wondering why on earth there wasn't more fanfare surrounding it. In my mind there needs to be some fireworks for a firetruck salute where the firetrucks spray water in the air to commemorate the first boat back at the docks for the season. Things would obviously run differently if I was in charge.

Thing number two that was exciting today: Lunch at Qdoba for only 3 dollars. I think people (myself included) don't have casual conversations enough with employees at establishments we frequent. As my burrito was getting constructed I asked the guy behind the counter how his day was going so far. Rather than having to sit there in silence while he made my food we had a clever little chat about how bad mornings suck after a late night, but that he did it to himself because after all he made his own schedule this week. Blah blah, laugh laugh. When it came time to ring my meal up I was a little surprised when he said the total was 3 dollars. You could tell, however, that I was probably the first person all day to say "how is YOUR day going today?"

The receipt read something to the effect of: "Employee Meal Comp; Employee: Chris." I sure hope I didn't take his one and only discounted meal of the day, but either way it was nice.

I wonder how much more friendly the world would seem or what you could learn about another person that you wouldn't otherwise learn if we just said hi more frequently rather than silently coexisting. Then again, there's plenty of days where I'd rather cut my tongue out with a spoon than talk to a stranger. But today, I'm in a good mood, and that boat is now officially parked safely in the harbor across the way..ready to usher in another beautiful Chicago summer.

So thanks for the comp, Qdoba Chris. And hello Spring, how is YOUR day going today?
M.db

Market

2009-03-29T21:45:00.004-05:00

I'm doing laundry tonight and I enjoy having a glass of wine in between trips to the laundry room. I was out of wine so I went to the little market that is on the ground level of my condo building. I also needed cash to load onto my laundry card and I try to avoid using the ATM in the laundry room because the fee is something ridiculous like $4.50. I went to the market, picked out a cheap bottle of wine, and asked the cashier/owner if it's possible to get cash back from a purchase (ie- avoid having to get cash from the laundry room ATM and get charged). He said no, sorry it wasn't and I mumbled something about how it's no problem at all I just wondered because I hate using the ATM in the laundry room because due to their 'tarded fees. The owner, who knows me from frequenting the store but is by no means someone who even knows my first name, asked me "would you like to borrow some money to dodge the ATM fees, buddy?"

I was sort of floored. What a nice offer from someone who just trusted that this store patron that he has 2 min. conversations with here and there (me) would be good for the loan. That's something you assume would happen in a small town, not a huge city. Then again, it's a reminder that though there's a large population, living on top of each other, it's just a more compact community in nature, which doesn't make it NOT a community. This building is my small town, so are the few blocks that surround me. More establishments packed into a smaller radius and the same familiar fellow patrons and neighbors visiting them.

There's times when it could be easy to feel alone in such a big city when you live by yourself. Then there are certain moments that make you feel like there's a friendly person around every corner if circumstance just allows for a simple friendly gesture to occur between two people.

G'night,
M.db

Be Nice, Say Hi

2009-03-27T16:11:00.002-05:00

I feel like my dog makes his way into almost every topic lately, blog included, so my apologies. He's a bit time consuming and, you guessed it, Real Estate isn't exactly sucking up large quantities of my day lately.

when I walk Norman outside a lot of people stop and either want to pet him or talk to me about what kind of dog he is, etc. I can't blame them, he's cute. It's always a little strange because I never know what to say if someone just comes up and starts talking directly to my dog. If I say nothing and just let Norman bounce around at their feet it looks like I'm irritated they've interrupted. If they rave about how cute he is and I say "thank you" I feel weird because, after all, I had nothing to do with his cuteness.. I didn't birth the dog or build him out of papermache. So what typically happens is something that I hate but do anyway. I go into dog-speak and fill the awkward silence on my end by responding to their "oh you're so cute, oh look at you" with "Say hi Norman, Say hi! Be nice, say hi Norman" and suddenly we're both speaking in the same tone a parent might use with an infant. Much like the infant, my dog can't talk, so it's sort of a weird exchange between everyone but it flows out of my mouth to fill in the time anyway.

So a couple days ago this group of Asian guys come walking down the sidewalk and Norman starts leaping around at their feet as we crossed paths, excited to meet new friends. One of the young men leans down and starts petting him. I just stood there at first but of course finally felt like I had to say SOMETHING so I said "Say hi! Be nice, say hi, say hi!" The young Asian man looked back up at me with a confused and half nervous face and muttered hesitantly ".. hi?"

From his accent I suddenly realized he wasn't just Asian-American, he was Asian-Asian and very Confused-Confused. The poor foreign guy thought I was telling HIM to "Be nice" and "say hi!" I'm sure after I said it about 3 times he finally decided he had placate me and say hi.

Now go out there today and be nice, say hi.
M.db

New Rule!

2009-03-25T16:37:00.002-05:00

I've come up with a new rule that needs to be implemented immediately. There are certain un-written rules in this life, some of which for example are: "look both ways before crossing the street," "stop, drop and roll if you're on fire" and "fire only when fired upon if you're in a Top Gun style dogfight (in no particular order of importance). My new suggested rule: "When waiting for an elevator in a lobby, count to THREE before charging the door once the doors open." I can't tell you how many times I've been on an elevator going down to a lobby lately and the SECOND the doors open, someone on the other side waiting to get in and go up RUSHES the door and practically head-butts me in the face. WAIT A SECOND asshole, did you ever think that someone else mighhhhhtttt possibly be on the other side of that door about to walk OFF the 'vator? I swear some people barely let the door crack itself open before they're shoving their nose through the opening to get inside. Where's the fire? If there is one, I expect you to be stopping, dropping and rolling as previously mentioned.

Running into me while my hands are full of groceries, or even when my hands are completely empty for that matter, is not okay. One... two... three... enter. It's that simple. What's humorous (but not at all humorous) is how THAT person always acts put out that they almost ran into YOU. It's like me running over your foot in my car and then being exasperated that it was in my way. Oh well shit, I'm sorry for inconveniencing your mad dash into the elevator by standing still and minding my own business. My reflex is always to say "sorry" when that happens, too. Which is something that I'm working on NOT saying as much anymore in general where it isn't necessary. Let's face it, I'm NOT sorry you're fatass and can't wait to get upstairs to eat ice cream. I'm just not.

So let's put the new rule into action.. now.
M.db

Norman and Oprah

2009-03-05T12:50:00.005-06:00

It's quite difficult to type with a puppy laying across your right arm. As much as I'm moving his little head around as I type, Norman still doesn't seem to mind.. sound asleep.

Before I brought Norman back from Texas I purchased something called the "Pup Head." It's a pad of artificial grass that sits on a tray and can be placed on a balcony, patio, etc. Perfect for high rise dwellers (like myself) who can't get a puppy who has a bladder the size of a pebble (like Norman) down 33 floors in time to avoid an accident happening in the living room. I then put the puppy training pads underneath the 'grass' between the turf and the tray and clean up is quite easy. Anyway, the little guy took to it like a pro and his 281 pee breaks a day are much easier to deal with.. especially at 11pm when it's 19 degrees outside.

Norman's urban toilette:

So the other day I took Norman with me to PetCo to buy more training pee-pads and some puppy shampoo. As I was walking out of the store, struggling to carry Norman under one arm and a huge "Value Pack" box of pee pads under the other, I noticed a man who looked oddly familiar walking towards me into the store. Suddenly it hit me.. that's Oprah's beau, Steadman, it's gotta be. He paused and looked back behind him towards the parking lot as if looking for someone who was lagging behind. As I approached my car in the parking lot I realized who was trailing behind him that he turned around to find. Oprah. With a new puppy on a leash, Oprah stood next to the hood of my car at a patch of grass attempting to coax the new puppy to pee.

I set the box of pee pads on the hood of my car so I could free up a hand to fish car keys out of my coat pocket and Oprah looked up at me (and the box) and said in her trademarked Oprah voice.. "PUPPY PEEEE PADDSS!" I replied "Oh God, let me tell you.. a life saver for someone who lives in a high rise.. hence me coming back for the 'value pack' this time!" She said "I am on my way to buy some RIGHT... NOW!" and then we had a quick conversation about puppy training and I let her know that the synthetic puppy grass was also a save-the-day product to look into. After a few minutes I said "good luck!" and got into my car. Then suddenly I said to Norman (having a pet is a great excuse to not feel/look crazy when talking to yourself) "did we just have an entire conversation with Oprah Winfrey... about peeing?!" Norman looked at me and replied with his facial expression "food." Or maybe it was "pee." I'm not sure, he only has a few thought processes I'm sure. To Norman, it was just another human being and oddly enough that's what it seemed like to me until a few moments later when I realized I had an oddly 'normal' and every-day kind of exchange with one of the most recognized and powerful women in the world. Fancy that. Fancy also that she buys her own pee pads with absolutely no security or entourage following her around. Side note: she also doesn't let a make-up artist follow her around either. I'm just sayin.

All in all, it made for an interesting lil' story to recount later. As lauren said, maybe now puppy pee pads will be on her next "favorite things" show and everyone in the audience will get a pack. It's no Pontiac Sunfire or massage chair from Brookstone, but... blame the economy (and my raving review of them) if that does indeed happen.

Norman letting me know that this photo shoot is OVER by attacking the camera strap:

This puppy has already attracted more interesting conversations out in public than I've had on my own in at least 3 months. Maybe 4.

here's to a 55 degree day in Chicago on March 5th. Norman and I are headed outside to round up some famous people and phone numbers.

M.db

Norman

2009-02-23T14:55:00.005-06:00

One of my least favorite things about living in Chicago is grocery shopping.. er, rather the inconvenience of grocery shopping. Granted I realize they wont allow grocery carts to be taken into the parking lot because then they end up being stolen and turned into a homeless person's primary source of transportation, but this is pretty inconvenient. Basically you can only purchase as many groceries as you can carry because you're not going to get those bags to your car if you can't carry them from the shopping cart coral to your trunk with two arms. Same goes for walking from my car through my garage, down an elevator, through my lobby, up another elevator and to my condo. I'm exhausted just thinking about it. Plus I'm psychotic and refuse to make two trips.. ever.

The quality of the grocery stores in Chicago, save for Whole Foods and Trader Joe's of course, is disgusting as well. The major chain, Jewel, is like shopping in a communist country to me. Bad selection, high prices and a general "just be glad you're getting something" attitude from the employees. There's no bread lines but with the current state of the economy I wouldn't be surprised to see one at Jewel soon, accessible only with your 'preferred card' of course. By definition, the word "jewel" means a rare and exotic precious stone. Jewel the grocery store, on the other hand, is about as rare and exotic as happy hour at T.G.I.Friday's yet somehow less satisfying.

Aside from grocery shopping today, my life has been very occupied with my new addition. Please say hello to Norman, the 3 lb 8 ounce holy terror with blue eyes and the attitude of a war general in puppy form:

Norman is so great and so sweet. I picked him out at Christmas time when I was home for the holidays out of a litter of three puppies. My mom ended up taking one of the puppies, I ended up taking one (obviously) and my mom's sister ended up taking the third. He was finally ready to be picked up around Valentine's day so I flew down to Tx to retrieve him. Such a handful and such a joy all at the same time! Norman is looking forward to the weather warming up.. I can't blame him. I wouldn't want to take a shit outside right now either.

Lots has been going on. And nothing, all at the same time. Less time in between postings from now on, I promise.

Over and out.
M.db

Busch's Baked Euthanasia

2009-01-12T13:20:00.004-06:00

Someone needs to put the Busch's Baked Beans spokes-dog to sleep or at least get him a muzzle. At the end of those commercials the owner always says that no one has the secret family baked beans recipe except for his dog and "He's not telling!" Well think again pal, because the dog always tells someone at the end of the ad! What a diabolical bastard. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you.. get that dog a muzzle. Just kidding about the euthanasia of course, but what on earth does that dog have against his family? Besides, those baked beans come in a can reminiscent of a dog food can. Maybe re-thinking the spokes figure would be a good idea; I don't want to think about the frightening similarities between my food and a dog's while I eat dinner.

M.db

Personal Identification

2009-01-03T18:37:00.004-06:00

Nothing about 2009 has felt climactic to me. The transition from 2008 to 2009 never seemed monumental in milestone or special in occasion at all. I guess our generation can thank the 1999 to 2000 new year for that. I mean let's face it nothing else is going to seem as exciting as the fear of impending doom we all experienced that December night as we partied like it was 1999 (because it was) and waited for all of our computers and electronic devices to explode simultaneously at midnight.

In 2008 I made, and met most of, a list of resolutions. I made a list for 2009 as well. Nothing too exciting about making a "fresh start" when new year's eve just felt like another Wednesday evening, not a major beginning. As a result I've been chastising myself a little too much lately. Deciding I'm not motivated enough this new year, concluding that I'm not in good enough shape and asking myself what I've accomplished.. rounding that thought off with "you lazy fatass" usually.

Getting things in order usually jump starts me into that fresh feeling and it was time to do the every six months cleaning out of my closets, drawers and cabinets back in the first of January. The last thing I had been procrastinating on doing was to take down the Christmas tree. I had done everything but disassemble it (it's fake). All the ornaments were off, it was unplugged, there was no star on top anymore. The skirt around the base was folded up and ready to be boxed as well. The problem was that I had promised myself I'd clean out my storage unit in my building's basement before I took the tree back down to store it. When I retrieved the tree back in November from my storage cage I was disgusted by how much clutter I had shoved into its confines. So I made myself a silent promise "I'll clean this out before I put the tree back in here." BIG SIGH, that time had come and I finally motivated myself to go down there and make sense of the chaos.

The basement of my building always seems sort of murder-mystery scary to me. It's very "nobody can hear you scream" down there. It's clean and bright (once you turn the lights on) but still it's a HUGE space with concrete ceilings and exposed pipework. It's actually a series of rooms behind locked doors and within each giant room there are rows and rows of floor-to-ceiling storage cages like a maze just waiting for a scary plot twist to occur within.

As I passed all the storage cages on my way to mine I thought to myself "why do we keep some of the stuff we do in storage??" There's the typical things inside the neighboring storage cages like an old fan, luggage, and holiday decorations. Then there's the not so typical things like a Michael Jackson CD laying on the floor of some one's cage. A framed picture of a dog with its birth and death dates listed. Things I have to wonder if we'll ever one day say "I need to go down there and get that RIGHT now." Probably not, but then why don't we just throw them away?

I sat on the floor and fished through my boxes, loaded things onto a cart to take to my car for give-away, consolidated keepsakes into boxes and generally created a much more organized (and spacious) storage area while throwing away unnecessary items. I asked myself that same question again "why am I hanging onto all of this?" Like my old computer from college.. do I expect to one day run down there and boot that sucker up to go through the files and read a paper from Junior year Marketing? Probably not. I suppose at the time of storing things we always think it would be wasteful to get rid of something that had been dear to us or expensive, even if we have no current use for it.

And then I found that dreaded box. The box full of pictures and memories. The box you'll never throw away or at least I never will. The box that, when you peruse it, you feel as awkward as you did the day you saved the things inside of it. A huge plastic container with hundreds of photos, my daily planner that was issued to us in high school proudly reading "1997-1998" on the front. I flipped through it and found notes from classmates. Stopped on certain dates to find out what I might have been doing that very moment at 17 yrs old. "Bring Algebra book tomorrow!" Important notes. A slip of paper listing my Jr. year grade point average; a less than impressive B average. I held the big trash bag in one hand and the planner in the other and almost threw it away, but couldn't.

I put the planner back down into the disorganized pile of forgotten shit and sifted further. Pictures.. from high school graduation of me hugging my parents, my dad with so much less gray hair. My first college dorm room and roommate. A menu from a favorite restaurant. A sweatshirt from high school. The basement wasn't scary feeling any longer. In fact I wasn't even aware of it surrounding me because I was lost in a time warp, leaning up against a metal wall sifting through my life. There were even photos from new year's eve 1999-2000, the last seemingly BIG turning-point new year.

I went deeper into the box and found those borderline disturbing year book photos from Jr. High, you know the ones, and that huge panoramic photo of the entire 8th grade class. Remember how the panorama camera moved slow as it passed the group on a tripod and you had to stay extremely still until it was finished or you'd be blurred? I starred at the panorama for a good five minutes. There's that one kid who would always wave his hand violently so that once the photo was developed he'd have a blur next to his face. The cool kids were in the back row looking up and to the left in unison to be funny. There were the boys who matured way too early for 8th grade and looked like grown men already. The acne was rampant and so were the glasses and braces. I thought 'my God we all looked so retarded.' Then I felt bad for thinking that when I saw the one kid in our class who actually WAS retarded and always asked what time it was over and over. And then I saw myself, chubby as all get out, right in the middle of the photo. I wonder how I had any friends at all. There was that kid Chris standing behind me, the one who was mean to me that one day during lunch that year, I've never forgotten and he surely has. To this day I remember his words and they still make me want to curl into a ball and disappear inside of myself, just like I wanted to that day.

There were tons of other things to piece through in that box but mostly photos. Such awkward times captured in photos and frozen in time. Plenty of really happy times, too, of course.

My thoughts ran wild as I wandered deeper and deeper into the forest of memories:

Why did I think those shoes were cool? Who let me leave the house wearing a sweater that big!? Did I really part my hair like that? I wonder if it still hurts them, too, when they think about it. Where are THEY now? Did I really think I would never get through that situation? I forgot about that! I thought I'd never forget that.. and I did until just now. I thought I was so mature! Look how excited I was. Look how chubby I looked. Look how thin I looked. Look how young I looked. God it hurt so bad. God it made me feel so happy. Oh if I only had known. Oh if only I didn't know now.

I realized pretty quickly why we keep the things we do, or at least some of them.. the important things. I may not use the contents of that box on a regular basis and sifting through it might be a once in a few years experience but that's part of what makes it special when you re-visit. It suddenly seemed foolish to beat myself up for not being motivated enough earlier that day. It also seemed as irrational as it probably in fact is for me to think I'm in horrible shape and talk about myself as if I'm 700 lbs need a crane to get out of bed.

I almost felt YOUNGER after looking through the box. Look at all I've done and how much I've changed and grown in such a relatively short period of time? I was practically just a baby, a kid. At 28 I've just recently graduated from a growing process that everyone has to go through, and still more to come. Seeing all of the artifacts reminded me of the awkward phases and the life lessons.. I'm old now? No, I was just very very young THEN. 2009 doesn't seem like just any other year when put in this perspective. This life is a gift and you can smack me around for being so cheesy, but it's true. How dare I take it for granted. Thank God for "just another year" of status quo.

What if I had come home and offed myself or something terrible the day that Chris kid said those mean things to me at lunch (just for example sake- I never really considered that option)? What if that's all there was, though, and that is when it ended? We have no idea what great things lie ahead but I do know that what seemed so big in 1992, 1996, 2001.. has vanished. We learn, we grow and we get better with time. Those objects we can't make ourselves throw away are pieces of evidence that good times happened, proof we are better than ever and personal reminders of exactly who we are today and why. I carry an I.D. in my wallet that tells who I am. But my identification is summed up in so much more than could ever fit in my wallet.. a snippet of which is contained, in a box, one floor below ground level in my building.

I still can't explain why the Michael Jackson CD is being held onto by someone.. but that's their story to tell, not mine.

M.db

Your hurt, my burden

2008-12-09T02:00:00.004-06:00

I wish I could take away all of your heartache right now. There are no words to describe what you're feeling and it's the worst of all feelings, pains of the heart always are.

I had a moment tonight where I was so frustrated thinking about you being pained and all the stages of grief and healing you have yet to go through but inevitably will. I just wanted to take it all away for you. I wish there was a fast-forward button for life. Maybe because we're so inclined to be impatient these days in the world of Tivo, e-mail and instant gratification? Probably so because I wanted to push the Tivo fast forward button (along with the sound effects it makes, by the way: "bloop, bloop BLOOP!") and get you through this hard time as fast as possible.

But until it's over..

Until the pain is all gone- I'll be here for you.
And when it's all gone- I'll still be here for you.
Forever more- I'll be here for you, whenever you need me.
After all, it's what you'd do for me and always have done for me.

You are my family and I am so sorry you are hurting.

M.db

Global Cooling

2008-12-04T16:16:00.002-06:00

Thanksgiving was good, went to Texas. Back to Chicago, last night was the first good snow storm of the year, it was 15 degrees last night blah blah- and now you're up to speed.

I can't stand those groups that stand on the corners in Chicago and try to snag you as you cross the street to sign up for whatever cause they're representing. It's everything from Greenpeace to gay rights. Downtown they'll even stand on all four corners of an intersection and that way NO ONE gets by without these clipboard-clad activists stopping them for either a signature or a donation of some sort. Today it was Greenpeace and I couldn't just ignore the person. She introduced herself after all. Kate. Here's my thing, Kate, have you been paying too much attention to the environment to notice the economic environment? Don't ask me for money right now. I told her the membership to Greenpeace (though I think it's a good organization) wasn't something I was interested in as I'd probably be delinquent on the annual dues or just never pay them. Kate's response as I tried to walk off: "..but wait, don't you agree that global warming is a problem?" I paused, looked around in every direction then back at Kate who was shivering in the 19 degree temperature and replied "Fuck no, Kate, it's FREEZING out here." I chuckled a little and then back to a straight face and said "yeah, global warming is bad, but seriously.. no."

Kate let me know of a Greenpeace sponsored global warming rally I could go to this Saturday at 11am in Millennium Park, which will be free of course. I pretended to take mental note of the details in order to make Kate and myself both feel better by repeating the details back to Kate: "THIS Saturday... 11am? Okay. At Millennium Park? Ok perfect."

If Kate's smart she knows I won't be attending.
M.db

Mid-Morning Jog

2008-11-16T14:23:00.003-06:00

My living room and balcony both face Lake Michigan and currently, being that it is after November 1st, there are no boats left in the harbor I face. It's always sad when the boats vacate the lake as it means winter weather is officially upon us. Because there's very little movement in that direction right now it more easily caught my eye this past week when I saw a lot of activity at Montrose Harbor. I looked outside and saw probably 16 emergency vehicles on the edge of the lake and then just as I noticed them I heard a rescue helicopter fly in. Within seconds the helicopter was hovering a few feet above the water and two wet suit clad divers jumped in. A few minutes after that, they were pulling a body out at the water. I could tell by the lack of haste on the rescuer's part once they were out of the water that the person was clearly already gone. The temperature outside was cold with periods of sleet. The water temperature that day was around 50 degrees the news said, which means a person would probably have 5 or so minutes before shock set in and then, of course, death.

I couldn't help but wonder how this person got into the water. Maybe it was a suicide? Maybe foul play somewhere else along the lake and the body just washed up here? Either way it was eerie and captivating, so I watched.

I later found out that the man who was recovered from the lake was a jogger. He lived a few blocks north of me and had accidentally fallen into the cold water. Another jogger phoned 911 when he saw him but by the time the rescuers arrived it was too late. The man who called 911 said he couldn't have been in the water more than a few minutes when he spotted him struggling. I started reading the tributes people had left on the comments section of the Chicago Tribune's story and my heart broke. Overwhelming accounts of what a bright spot this man was in people's lives. Educated, accomplished and apparently incredibly likable. Friends, family, neighbors.. people's lives who were touched by his kindness and example of faith. In a split second, gone. And only because he slipped or fell.

When I decide to be ambitious and jog outside rather than in the gym, going through that harbor and in that particular area of the park is always my favorite place to go. You can jog along the edge of the man-made barrier of the harbor; it's almost like a really wide sidewalk at the water's edge. It's probably a 5-7 foot drop off into the water from the edge and I've always thought it would be a pretty bad situation trying to get out if you fell in, there's no real easy way to get out in that area. Not to mention the "gasp effect" that often happens when you fall into water of that temperature - if your head goes under, your body forces a gasp and you potentially take in up to 2 liters of water. Within a few minutes your arms and legs are rendered useless in water temperatures below 55 degrees, not to mention the shock and disorientation that would make it difficult to get yourself to safety. It was cold and icy that day, I'm sure things were slippery. I can't imagine such a scary ending to your life on what started out to be simply a mid-morning jog.

We're sometimes so desensitized. I watched the rescue unfold through my binoculars like watching a story on the news - no real connection to what was going on. There was no attachment to the situation taking place, just an interesting event happening across the way. Possibly a murder, maybe an exciting story of mob activity. Either way it was simply a "wow, you don't see that every day" kind of thing. To later learn the name of the person I watched perish and read personal accounts of his life that disappeared in front of me is so tragically sad. No exciting Sopranos-style hit. No murder mystery like the movies. Rather, a neighbor for all intents and purposes. An architect. A church member. A Harvard graduate. A real person who set out for a mid-morning run and never got to come home.

We start out every day like a mid-morning jog. There's no way of knowing what will happen along the path. Sometimes it's an uneventful outing and other times we stumble or even fall down along the way. Some falls are greater than others and we never know when we're going to trip. We also never know when our last mid-morning jog will be. Sure keeps things in perspective. Make it count.

Rescue vehicles along Montrose Harbor shortly after the body was taken from the water:

May he rest in peace and God bless his soul,
M.db

Human

2008-11-11T00:07:00.005-06:00

I did my best to notice
When the call came down the line
Up to the platform of surrender
I was brought but I was kind
And sometimes I get nervous
When I see an open door
Close your eyes
Clear your heart...
Cut the cord

Are we human?
Or are we dancer?
My sign is vital
My hands are cold
And I'm on my knees
Looking for the answer
Are we human?
Or are we dancer?

Pay my respects to grace and virtue
Send my condolences to good
Give my regards to soul and romance,
They always did the best they could
And so long to devotion
You taught me everything I know
Wave goodbye
Wish me well..
You've got to let me go

Are we human?
Or are we dancer?
My sign is vital
My hands are cold
And I'm on my knees
Looking for the answers
Are we human?
Or are we dancer?

Will your system be alright
When you dream of home tonight?
There is no message we're receiving
Let me know is your heart still beating

Are we human?
Or are we dancer?
My sign is vital
My hands are cold
And I'm on my knees
Looking for the answers

You got to let me know

Are we human?
Or are we dancer?
My sign is vital
My hands are cold
And I'm on my knees
Looking for the answers
Are we human
Or are we dancer?

-The Killers

These lyrics have brought a lot of inspiration and been quite thought provoking to me lately for some reason. Plus, I just really like the song. It was apparently written in response to a statement that America is raising a generation of "dancers" (ie- puppets) rather than individuals.

"sometimes I get nervous when I see an open door. Close your eyes, clear your heart.. cut the cord."

That is a powerful line to me. There's many things in my life I want to do and nearly every accomplishment I've ever had, in retrospect, has had a specific moment of closing my eyes, clearing my heart and cutting the cord before the accomplishment could be realized. That open door is always scary.

Wave goodbye, wish me well..
you've gotta let me go,
M.db

Mrs. Trannyfire

2008-11-05T23:48:00.004-06:00

Mrs. Doubtfire is on one of the cinemax channels right now. It's the part of the movie where the children first find out that the beloved nanny is really their father when the son walks in on Mrs. Doubtfire peeing while standing up.

First of all, they recovered really fast from the shock, like 27-seconds-fast. "Dad?!" and then suddenly all is cool and hugs like the final scenes of a dramatic episode of Full House. I think it would be a lot more freaky to realize that your dad had been helping you with your homework and cooking your mac and cheese for the past two months while wearing a dress and fake tits. Secondly, way to break character by peeing standing up, Mrs. D., you should have totally peed sitting down. Everyone knows that rule number one of faking your gender in order to get close to your estranged children that you've been ordered to stay away from by the courts is to NEVER break character while in the vicinity of said children.

In other news, I put two condos under contract today. BAM! After lots of jumping through hoops to get these two deals accepted the work paid off this afternoon within a few hours of each other. They say today was more than likely the last 'warm' day of the year with temperatures reaching over 70 degrees- the last time Chicago will likely see the 70's until spring. It was absolutely beautiful outside with all the fall leaves rushing down the street in the perfectly temperate breeze. It's sort of sad to think of the frigid weather setting in as the days get darker and shorter. Snow showers are already in the forecast for Saturday. The weather will get colder but those closings will hopefully keep me warm come mid-December when they go to the title company! Yay. Seriously though, I'm just really happy the stress of these deals has led to a successful ending. Last holiday season I made a goal/resolution to close a certain dollar amount in sales in a one-month span at least once during 2008. I met that goal a few months back. I wish I could make just one more sale this month that would also close in December/before the end of 2008 along with the two deals from today. It doesn't look like that will happen but if it did/does I'd fulfill that new year's resolutions I made last December TWICE before the year was over. I suppose meeting said sales goal one time was good enough but how nice to keep a resolution and then double it! Maybe next year. I'll just focus on accomplishing my other resolution of solving all the world's problems by year's end:)

G'night,
M.db

History's Receipt

2008-11-04T23:25:00.003-06:00

For better or worse, it is finally over.

M.db

Blessed

2008-11-01T16:45:00.004-05:00

Thank God halloween is over, I think it's such an obnoxious "holiday." I know, CRAZY for not liking it am I.. but you're the one getting your rocks off on dressing up in costume past the age of 12:)

I caught a cold that wouldn't let go of me for almost two weeks... until today! I think today is the first day back to 95% normal feeling. Gotta love the change in seasons! Rewind two weeks, before the cold, and my parents were in town for my birthday. They flew up for the weekend, took me to dinners, hung out with me for a few days and took me to see Jersey Boys. It was a really great weekend, I felt so loved and immensely lucky. Not just lucky to have two parents that love me so much but to have two parents that I really REALLY love right back. Jersey Boys was an incredible show, too! We all knew we'd probably enjoy it but had no clue how great it would actually be. Fantastic. Also, each dinner reservation that my mom had made for the weekend, she made as a "birthday dinner" with the restaurant when she called so they would make sure to do something special. She thought it was hilarious. I think after 4 birthday dinners in a row I felt sufficiently celebrated! They made sure to extend the celebration the entire time they were in town and I was so happy to spend my 28th birthday with the two people that have made these 28 years possible.

There's always something reflective about getting another year older. In the past I always thought that 27 would be a special age for me, I even blogged about that a few years back as I looked forward to it. It just seemed like it would be a good year, a good spot in the grand scheme of my entire life. Naturally as the 27th year of my life came to a close a couple weeks ago I looked back and asked myself ".. was it really all you hoped it could be? Was 27 really such a GREAT year?!" I stopped dead in my tracks. Before I could even finish the thought process I mentally smacked myself across the face. How dare I even question that? I began to think of the joys and blessings of the past 365 days. The mental, physical and emotional growth. The incredibly special people I surround myself with and am so fortunate to call my friends - the things I have been able to learn from them. I traveled to 3 different countries in my 27th year on this planet, two of which I had never been to. I hiked in the mountains of Yellowstone, visited friends in three different cities and had three different sets of friends visit me in my city. I made the biggest accomplishment, to date, in my career. I met 3 of the 4 goals/new years resolutions I set for myself with regard to work as well (I still have until December 31st for the 4th!). I've been blessed with health, happiness and above all the love of incredible people.

I had all of those things on my mind on the 17th, my birthday, as I was driving to the airport to pick up my parents. I counted each blessing, reflected on each exciting endeavor I was so fortunate to partake in over this past year and all the people I am so lucky to have in my life. Then I thought specifically about my parents that I was about to see. Two people that not only gave me the opportunity to live this life I've enjoyed for the past 28 years but kept giving and continue to give beyond the great gift of life. Two people who would travel a thousand miles just to make sure my day felt special. A mother who would take a bullet for me and father who would do the same. Two people who bless others to a level that sets an example I only hope to come close to one day. As family members we sometimes disagree, like most people do who are close. We aren't perfect, no one is, but my God how much better could it get.

No one has it the easiest or the hardest. No one has the perfect situation, and by no means do I write any of this to say "wow, look how great things are for me.." God knows I have my life's challenges. But rather in reflecting on a year of my life, one in which I used to think would be special for some reason, I realized it was quite special indeed. I approached the airport terminal to pick up the two people who love me more than anyone on this earth ever has and as I saw them standing there waiting for me I thought to myself "if it hasn't been what someone would consider to be a great year, I don't know what the definition of great is.."

birthday dinner number 3:

I am so blessed,
M.db

Happy Columbus Day

2008-10-13T08:00:00.001-05:00

Courtesy of www.SomeEcards.com, one of my favorite e-card sites.. ever:

Happy Columbus Day,
M.db

What Might Have Been

2008-10-12T16:38:00.002-05:00

I've often thought that you probably know you love someone when you're immensely frightened of losing that person but comforted only by the knowledge that the one you love is as equally terrified of the thought of losing you.

We can't choose when we love and we unfortunately don't have a say in when we lose love either.

My father's mother met and married the love of her life in her early twenties. Less than a year later she was 2 months pregnant with her soul mate's daughter when her new husband, a pilot in the air force, vanished into a cloud bank on a routine training mission off the coast of California. The rest of his squadron descended through the sky but his aircraft never did. No wreckage was ever found nor was his body and the case was closed as an unexplained mystery. Missing in action. Two thousand miles away, in Corpus Christi, Texas, a young pregnant woman became a widow at the age of 22.

Within a couple of years, she met a traveling salesman named WJ, my grandfather, and they later married. She had already given birth to the baby girl she was pregnant with when her late husband disappeared. She had named her daughter Jacqueline (or Jacquie), after the baby's late father, Jack. My grandfather and grandmother went on to have two children of their own together, one of course being my father.

It always felt to me as though my grandparents had a relationship much like that of a business partnership. Respectful, caring, but probably not one that could be described as a romance. Though I know she loved him, my grandmother often spoke of her time with Jack, even in front of WJ. It was apparent that she never recovered from losing what she regarded as the love of her life. They lived a long life together until my grandmother passed away at the age of 81. After her passing, my grandfather spoke frequently of his and his wife's times together fondly and, in his last two years, expressed how he longed to go "home" to be with his sweet Evelyn. He died at the age of 89, 4 years after my grandmother. As I said, they obviously cared for each other and became attached, in a role most likened to a companionship that he longed for once she was no longer by his side.

After my grandfather's death, the pieces to a story that could be plastered onto the silver screen were revealed. Evelyn may not have been the only one to have longed for a lost love and a what-might-have-been. Years before meeting my grandmother, my grandfather had a noteworthy romance of his own.

A smart young man, my grandfather was accepted to Texas Tech University and having no money he took an all-night job in order to pay his way. After working through the night until dawn he would then attend classes all day. Unfortunately, his estranged alcoholic father came to visit him one weekend claiming he wanted to spend time with his son. Hoping the years of rejection might be finally at a close, my grandfather welcomed his Dad with open arms to stay with him for a few days. Instead, his father stole his tuition savings to feed his gambling habit while his son worked his night job and then left before my grandfather returned from work at dawn. With no means to afford his education, WJ was forced to drop out of school and this great man was fed another helping of rejection and defeat. He joined the Navy and even became a champion boxer while he served.

After a few years in the Navy, WJ became part of one of President Roosevelt's historic "New Deal" programs and enlisted in the Civilian Conservation Corps where he was sent to a small Colorado town. He, along with other young men employed by the program which was aimed to aide those unemployed by the affects of the Great Depression, began the task of building parks and reforesting the land.

It was in this southern Colorado town that WJ experienced love. He met a young woman named Clara. She fell in love with my grandfather and he in love with her. Their courtship was simple and sweet. Clara happened to hail from the wealthiest family in town. She and her family were well educated and polished. Although he was enamored with this young woman, my grandfather struggled with the insecurities of being nothing more, in his mind, than a poor boy that grew up on a Texas farm. One who lacked both the finances and education other suitors could potentially offer a girl like Clara. WJ felt he had nothing to give other than his love. Unfortunately he didn't believe that was enough.

Along with the multitude of other insecurities, fears, and worries that we probably all grapple with in the face of loving someone, my grandfather couldn't help but feel as though he was somehow not good enough for this girl that captured his heart. When he received his transfer orders and was scheduled to leave Colorado for good, he elected not to tell Clara. Knowing he could not provide what he felt she deserved, WJ decided he was doing her a favor. He left Colorado one evening without saying goodbye, leaving behind a heartbroken woman who would live the rest of her life never knowing what went wrong.

In a time without the Internet, cell phones or 411 .. my grandfather vanished from her life forever.

A pack rat by nature, my grandfather saved everything.. and I mean literally everything. Cleaning out his apartment after his funeral proved to be a daunting task for my father and my uncle. They sifted through the tangible belongings of their father's life like archaeologists through the earth. Much was disposed of and meaningful items were saved. Halfway through the endeavor they stumbled upon a box of letters that revealed the outcome of a love story that began 60+ years earlier.

In the last year of his life, at 89 years old, WJ wrote to the chamber of commerce in the Colorado town that he had been stationed in 60-some years earlier. He inquired the old fashioned way, via written letter, about Clara's locally well-known family during the time period he knew her. The correspondence revealed that he was placed in touch with a somewhat removed relative of the family and several exchanges took place. The letters addressed to my grandfather laid to rest 6 decades of wonder and regret. Through these letters, he learned what became of the woman he was in love with so many years before. Clara had married, she had several children and a multitude of grandchildren. She lived in Colorado her entire life and had passed away only 6 months prior to my grandfather contacting the Chamber of Commerce. I think my grandfather was able to finally close a chapter of his life by knowing that Clara went on to lead a full and satisfying life, though he was too late to ever say "I'm sorry" or "goodbye."

The parallels, to me, are daunting. This woman loved a man, much like my grandmother loved her first husband, who vanished into thin air with no explanation given. She went on, as did my grandmother, to marry, create a family, and live a long life. When my grandmother died she more than likely looked back on her life and had two men who occupied her heart on her mind. I have to wonder if Clara did the same.

I know what a wonderful person my grandfather was. He was accomplished, he was intelligent, the hardest worker I've ever had the honor of knowing. He was funny, he was handsome and his heart was gold. On the inside, he didn't give himself credit for all that he was. He let his insecurities stop him from what might have been the love of a lifetime.

Imagine 63 years of regret. Imagine cheating yourself out of spending the rest of your days with your soul mate. Imagine leaving someone to wonder, until their last breath, why you walked out.

I'm obviously glad my grandparents ended up where they did because I was honored to have them in my life and otherwise I certainly wouldn't have been born. I can't help but mourn both of their losses on their behalf.

Let it be a lesson. Never sell yourself short. Never think you're not worthy and, as cliche as it sounds, try to remember that to the world you may just be one person.. but to one person you just might be the world.

Some love is taken away from us and some love we take away from ourselves.

Fate deprives some people of love and others deprive themselves.

I don't want to be writing a chamber of commerce when I'm 89 because I let someone slip through my fingers. I don't want to wish I had said goodbye and I don't want to feel so unworthy of something that I actually deserve that I am foolish enough to walk away from it.

Life is like a "Choose Your Own Adventure" book. Here's hoping we pick our paths wisely.

In loving memory of my Grandfather, W.J.
M.db

PS- can you imagine all four players in this story being reunited in heaven? Awwwkkkwaaaarrdddd. :) (had to end on a light note)

Blow me

2008-10-12T09:35:00.000-05:00

I love those high pressured cans of air that you use to clean computer keyboards and electronics. Holy shit they're so exciting! It's fun to point that thing at your keyboard like a pistol and watch little particles of who-knows-what fly everywhere. Funny, I don't remember eating Doritos at my computer?

But there's also an element of fear involved, for me anyway. The outside of the can has all kinds of warning labels posted on it basically stating that its contents under pressure will potentially explode like a Palestinian car bomb leaving a path of destruction for approximately a 4 block radius. The can itself also gets really cold to the touch after you've used it for a few seconds. That, naturally, leads me to believe that the inevitable explosion is approaching rapidly! Plus, it starts to hiss a little bit. So after I blow out my laptop's keyboard I usually hold the air can about two feet out in front of me, ever so delicately, the way a bomb squad member might handle a ticking suitcase he had just discovered. I then walk carefully to my file cabinet and close that sucker in the drawer as fast as possible and scurry away.

Cleanliness can be such a thrill,
M.db

Re-Uh-Luh-Tor

2008-10-11T18:26:00.005-05:00

I am a Realtor, that's my job. You can call it Real Estate Salesperson, Real Estate Agent, or just Realtor. No matter which name you choose to call the position it means the same. One of the above words, however, needs to STOP being mispronounced. And that word is Realtor.

Let's break this word down:

Real + tor = Realtor.

It is NOT pronounced Re-UH-LUH-Tor. There are not FOUR syllables in the word "Realtor" there are two. It is also not pronounced "re-luh-tor" either. Count with me.. REAL-TOR. ONE-TWO. It's not a type of dinosaur, like a Volac-UH-rap-tor. It's just plain Realtor, don't make this harder than it is.

To further prove my point, let's look at some other similar profession words:

Take Doctor for instance. Do you call it a Doc-UH-tor?? No, you would never because you're not stupid right? it's DOC-TOR. Emphasis on DOC and emphasis on TOR. That's it!

How about Contractor? Do you say Con-Trac-UH-tor?? No, why would you? Those letters aren't even in that word. It's CON-TRAC-TOR. No more additional UH sounds required.. just sound it out. So simple!

Now let's look at Teacher maybe? Do you say Teach-UH-cher?? Nope. It's TEACH-ER. Emphasis on teach and then followed by the er. Quite straight forward.

The word Realtor is comprised of two parts, much like the word doctor we just learned about. Say those two parts with me.

Part 1.) Real.. okay now stop.

Word 2.) Tor.. now don't forget, pronounce that the same way you would pronounce the "tor" at the end of "doctor" or "contractor." Ok goooooood.

Now put them together (this is the tricky part, stay with me) Ready, go!

"Real" (just like we practiced) + "tor" (just like we practiced). Come on, you can do it.. REALTOR! There! You did it! Now you won't look like a retard!

Now the next time you speak about a real estate professional stop yourself and ask "what did Mason tell me about this word and it's CORRECT pronunciation?" and I bet you'll be glad you look a lot smarter than those times you've been saying Re-UH-LUH-tor.

Thank you for your time and best of luck out there in this crazy mixed up world of pronunciation.
M.db

HEY! GET OUT OF HERE!

2008-10-11T12:32:00.000-05:00

I like to leave notes in my medicine cabinet.

Some people can't rid themselves of the temptation to peak inside someone's drawers when no one is looking. Or maybe open up the medicine cabinet for just a second when they use someone's bathroom. I understand, trust me, it's tempting to see what's going on in there though I refrain (honestly) from doing it. What do we expect or hope to find when we do things like that? It's like "ADVIL?!?! They must get headaches!" or "Holy SHIT a toothbrush! someeeeboodddyyss got a plaque problem!"

I guess it's the hope of finding something juicy, something that was hidden behind a closed cabinet door for a reason. Some prescription for an ailment we've never heard of or the homeowner would never want us to know he has. One that is, of course, contracted sexually. I supposed that's what we really want. Funny thing, even if you found said prescription pill bottle you would have to somehow remember the prescription name and then google it later to find out what it was a cure for. It's not like medicine names are ever called "Herpes Fixer" or "Uncontrollable Diahrea Stopping Pills." It's more like "Dexahethelaximine" or "Rhynatrosintrocitol (Generic for Rhynotrixonoxinopinol)."

Either way, I don't have anything juicy in my medicine cabinet but I like to leave a note in there anyway. Not everyday, of course, but if I know I'm having lots of people over. Like last year when I had my Christmas party. I folded a piece of paper, propped it inside the cabinet so it would be the first thing you see if you opened the door, and wrote on it "HEY! GET OUT OF HERE!"

It's fun to think of someone finding it and either feeling busted or thinking it's funny.. but either way having to remain silent about it.

Now GET OUT OF HERE!
M.db

Word of the Day

2008-10-10T18:38:00.001-05:00

You've heard of Japanimation (Japanese Animation).. well try this on for size:

"Afghanistanimation"

That's funny.
M.db

Rub a Dub Flub a Rub Dub Dub

2008-10-10T17:47:00.001-05:00

My good friend Alissa is a Realtor, like me. When she called me to invite me to lunch this morning I had a feeling we'd be in for more than a salad.. knowing we both have flexible schedules.

The day was gorgeous so we sat at a great table on the patio at the restaurant we went to. As expected, we not only each ordered a salad but a couple martinis as well. Ooops. 2 hours later, however, construction vehicles began to tear up the street outside of where we were sitting. After we finished eating and realized we had to yell to hear one another we both decided it was an excellent idea to take ourselves elsewhere. Besides, two and a half hours wasn't a sufficiently long enough lunch hour.

Here are the dudes who screwed up our lovely time with their noise pollution:

So we wandered a couple of blocks south, seeking a place to soak up the sun for another drink. A hole-in-the-wall we had never visited seemed like the most logical selection. Monsignor Murphy's it is!

At 60 degrees (but about 80 in the sun) it was THE perfect weather to not be working when everyone else was.

Alissa checking her email, JUST in case it was important:

We made friends with all who passed (and documented it all, obviously):

And then something magical happened.. and it wasn't anything related to the "astrology" store behind the patio we were sitting on. But rather we realized we were also sitting right next to a hot dog restaurant we had never seen. An entire establishment devoted to hot dogs called "Flub A Dub Chub's." As if this day couldn't be more perfect.. we then both started singing, to the tune of the Globe Trotter's theme song, a ditty that went something along the lines of: "Flub-A-Dub Chub, Rub-A-Dub Chub Rub-a-dubba-flubba-chub chub-a RUB A DUB DUB!" (or something along those lines.. the rules of the song were fast, loose and up to interpretation).

We immediate realized that we were going to need much more information about this place. With a name like Flub A Dub Chub's.. there were questions to be answered, so we began an inquisition. Every person who passed by us on the sidewalk was asked if they had dined at Flub A Dub Chub's before and if so, how was their experience. If they hadn't been, we informed them it was the best place ever, gave them the store hours and made them promise to give it a go some time in the near future. Reviews from the passer by's were mixed. Not mixed regarding the restaurant but mixed regarding our sanity and legitimacy.

Someone actually came OUT of Flub's with a sack full of.. hot dogs, I assume. We stopped him and asked him how his experience was to which he replied "Not sure, this is my first time, haven't eaten it yet." Alissa said "A VIRGIN!! Take a picture of his first time!" he scurried off in a fit of fear, but I caught him, paparazzi-style, on his way off:

The next person to emerge from Flub's had great things to say about the place.. because he was the owner and our new favorite person, today anyway. He brought us a menu and explained that he got the idea for the name of the restaurant from a lady at a bar when he was drunk and that every menu item was named after someone in his family. We perused (and did the maze on the back of) the menu and learned that they sold t-shirts as well! One that said "My Girlfriend Gave Me a Chubby!" one that said "My Boyfriend Gave Me a Chubby" and another that said "I Came Hungry and Left With a Chubby!" That was good enough for us: SOLD! Shirts were purchased from the owner.

And soon it was time for us to call our lunch to a close. After all, it was nearly 5pm and we originally met for lunch at noon. We couldn't leave without actually going INSIDE Flub A Dub Chub a Rub a Whatever's to get a to-go menu and a sense of the interior of the place we had been advertising to everyone who passed. You have to know the product you pedal, after all. We said goodbye to the owner and all exchanged business cards. Alissa made some sort of purchase from the owner that I wasn't aware of:

As we walked down the sidewalk Alissa handed me what she had purchased, 10 "Flub Bucks," and said "Happy Early Birthday!" We both laughed pretty damn hard.

I'll be using my Flub Bucks soon.
What a great lunch.
M.db

Goodbye Danny

2008-10-09T17:51:00.005-05:00

Pets really are special to the people who love them. Another life that brings so much joy into your own life.

You were a great little guy.. I'm sorry your last day had to be today. There was just no more fight left in you to battle the cancer that was bigger than you. Somewhat selfishly I'm glad I didn't have to be there to deal with the sadness when Mom and Dad took you to lay down to sleep one last time this afternoon. I am glad they were by your side to say goodbye, though, and I'm glad you weren't all alone.

Thanks for being a good pal to me when I still lived at home and thank you for being a special companion to my mom and dad in the years that I have been away. You were truly a sweet dog. Your pain is gone.

G'night Danny.
M.db

5 Year Aged Brat

2008-10-07T21:52:00.006-05:00

I was at Whole Foods today and while there I went by the specialty cheese counter in an attempt to find the type of cheese I had last week that I so enjoyed. I couldn't remember what kind it was but figured if I saw the name it might spark my memory. God it was good and God do I love cheese.

While I was standing there reading the labels an annoying mother with her 5 year old daughter was browsing through the different cheeses as well. I say she was annoying because she asked the cheese expert behind the counter about 15 vague questions in an attempt to find the kind of cheese she was looking for. Not questions like "I think it's a Gouda," nor were they questions about consistency or coloring but rather "noooo.. it wasn't Parmesan.. I mean.. isn't there one that's like, Parmesan but not like Parmesan?" In your head pin whatever voice on this story that you'd like but definitely choose an annoying one because her voice certainly was. Anyway, I watched the cheese counter guy, who obviously knew his stuff very well, attempt very diligently to help her. He continued to describe the different qualities and textures that the cheese in question might possess.. to no avail.

Then I suddenly realized what was going on when the woman said "No, it's not that one.. it's just one that, oh UGH what is it, it's one that she really likes and can't get enough of.. oh honey which one was it?" she said looking at her five year old daughter. It was everything I could do not to say "KRAFT SINGLES! That's which one your stupid daughter likes!" I'm not talking about being at the deli counter at a supermarket here, this is the specialty cheese counter at Whole Foods. The place where two full-time specialists are hired to pair cheese with wine and anything else you can imagine. The counter where a couple ounces of aged cheese can set you back 15 bucks. I couldn't believe it, this woman was taking up what seemed like a billion minutes of this man's time, making him cut up numerous samples to hand down to her daughter who ate them and then mumbled things like "mommy I want juice." All this in an effort to find out what kind of 12 dollar cheese her 5 year old can't live without, who apparently has a pallet more dignified than a 40 year old. A cheese that has probably been aged longer than the little brat has been alive. Meanwhile, the little girl looked about as interested in the cheese selection as I probably would if someone started to describe the inner workings of a car engine. Guess what, lady, do your pocket book a favor and save about 10 dollars.. walk over to the sliced meat section of the store, in the fridge next to the bacon, pick up a packet of cheddar (and a juice because that's what she really seems to want) hand it to your little girl and stop wasting everyone's time.

The economy is horrible. Gas is so expensive I rarely fill my tank all the way but stick to just putting 20 dollars in at a time (which equals less than 5 gallons in Chicago). Our country's morale is so low that people are getting nasty with each other during this election. All over TV all you can hear is how doomed our markets are. But somewhere in this city tonight, a little girl snacked on a cheese older than she is to the tune of 6 dollars a bite and it only wasted 15 minutes of my life that I'll never get back.

Now I'm going to go back to eating my Parrano cheese. It was Parrano I was looking for, and I found it on my own for the record. After I sampled it, the lady and her daughter followed suit and decided that Parrano was the winner for them as well.

Hope she's enjoying it on her grilled cheese sandwich as much as I am enjoying it with my wine.
M.db

Vernon's Birthday Gift

2008-10-07T18:21:00.004-05:00

A while back I stopped doing my own laundry, and it went something like this:

I don't have a washer and dryer in my condo but rather there is a laundry room on the 3rd floor of my building. I started thinking that I should look into one of those services that picks up your cleaning and returns it to your door and charges per pound. After all, I'm paying to do laundry in my building as it is and my time has got to be worth a couple bucks on top of that, right? It worked out pretty well for a while, but in the end I couldn't justify the cost. It wasn't a terrible expense, about $1.75 per pound, but it was still averaging about 7 dollars more each time than what I spent in my building's laundry facility. I decided 2 hours of my time wasn't worth 7 dollars (I'm a mean boss to myself).

Right about the time I started not being able to justify the expense of this convenience, the laundry company dissolved and the driver who always picked up my laundry kept some of his valued clients by taking their business (and his) to another laundry service. Because he was now just an independent driver taking TONS of business to a laundry facility, the price dropped to 50 cents per pound and only one dollar (you heard me, ONE dollar) for each piece of dry cleaning- no matter what it is. In other words, I had a suit dry cleaned the other day and the two-piece suit cost two bucks to have cleaned, AND it was picked up at my front door and returned to my front door 7 hours later. My laundry, at 50 cents per pound, also gets returned to me folded and ready to be put away. Now my time DEFINITELY is worth 50 cents a pound.

Can't beat it with a stick.

So anyway, I always tip Vernon, the driver, several dollars. He's a nice guy and very punctual, which I appreciate. He must appreciate me a bit, too: my phone rang a few minutes ago and I saw on the caller ID that it was Vernon calling. More specifically it showed up as it is categorized in my phone book: "Vernon Laundryservice." "Hmmm, what could this be about" I thought. Well, apparently one of Vernon's clients works for Ticketmaster and tipped him the other day with 30 front row tickets to the Brooks and Dunn / ZZ Top concert. Good ole' Vernon called some of his favorite clients, which apparently includes me, and started passing out front row seats to the show. How nice is that?! Way to pay it forward Vern! His exact words were "I don't know who Brooks and Dunn are." Vernon doesn't even know my birthday is next week, but I'll consider this his birthday gift to me. He even said "how many do you want, brotha?" I'm not his brother but I took 4. What a nice surprise.

Oh by the way... I know, I know.. "ZZ Top / Brooks and Dunn?!" you might say. Random, yes, but whatever. Not saying I necessarily would have gone out of my way to buy tickets on my own but hey, it's front row, it's free and it's something fun for an otherwise uneventful Thursday night next week.

Thanks Vernon!
M.db

Re-direct

2008-10-06T22:47:00.003-05:00

I 'announced it' before, but it officially took place today (after a minor glitch).. mason1017.blogspot.com is no more. All traffic is routed to MasonAgainstTheWorld.com. Before, I had it set up to simply direct traffic to the blogspot address. Now, it's all on the new domain name and if you type in the blogspot address you're sent to the new page, not the other way around.

The glitch today, however, came when I re-directed traffic from the .blogspot.com to masonagainsttheworld.com but accidentally still had traffic from masonagainsttheworld.com directed to the .blogspot address. Thus, I created a circle.. if you typed in "mason1017.blogspot.com" you would receive a message saying you are being re-directed to "masonagainsttheworld.com".. but that page just redirected you right back to "mason1017.blogspot.com" so basically you were screwed either way and just kept bouncing back and forth. One page led you to a page that didn't exist and sent you back to the other page which bounced you right back to the previous. Confused? I was, too. All fixed now though!

Cheers! Welcome to the world, domain name.
M.db

Canned Marine Life

2008-10-06T15:21:00.004-05:00

I have to pee so very badly. I was just out and about and before I left Caribou Coffee (the last place I was) I thought "nah, I'll just wait until I get home to use the restroom." Upon arriving home my housekeeper was, for the first time in the history of her employment, cleaning the bathroom last rather than first. She always starts in the bathroom, except for today. EFF! I have to pee so bad. I might just go in there and pee in front of her while she's cleaning the shower.

I'm eating some tuna to take my mind off of.. she's done, be right back.

So much better. So anyway I'm eating some tuna and I always think of my aunt when I make tuna. One time we were, for some reason, talking about sandwiches and when a tuna sandwich was mentioned she shuttered. I said "what?! How come you don't like tuna?" and she replied "Fish in a can, that's why. Fish... in a can." I thought it was a pretty funny statement. It is pretty disgusting sounding once it's put that way. So now, every time I make tuna, I say to myself as I'm opening the can "Fish.. in a can. That's why."

That's why,
M.db

Can't Think of a Title

2008-10-05T18:23:00.004-05:00

You know who LOVES the movie Titanic? TNT, that's who. They play this movie all the time, or at least it feels that way to me. I end up watching it every time, too. Titanic is to TNT what A League Of Their Own is to TBS. And literally as I just typed that, the network cut the movie off to bring major league baseball coverage, live. Fuck you, TNT! Now I'll never know how the story ended. I wonder if that ship ended up sinking? Guess what outcome I don't care about though? The outcome of Angels and Red Sox game that they just started airing, that's what.

Channel.. changed.

The movie Marie Antoinette is on another station and it's the part of the story where Antoinette's mother is writing her a letter to say she needs to get up on her husband and produce an heir already. What an uncomfortable letter to receive from your mom. I'm ready for one of these movies to portray the women and men of this particular age in a more accurate way. I have been to Versailles, and history class for that matter, and I've seen the paintings.. Marie Antoinette looked nothing like Kirsten Dunst. Quite a homely bunch, they were. And can you even imagine how bad those people smelled in the summer with all those clothes and wigs on? Yummy.

This past week Kevin invited me along to a GenArt event downtown hosted by Pete Wentz. He's about 2 feet tall by the way, Pete Wentz is I mean, not Kevin. Kevin is a member of GenArt so he goes to events throughout the year. GenArt showcases local talent in music, film, arts, etc. This particular event is the yearly big bang/hoo-rah and largest event. I was honored to be invited to VIP-it-up with K. Huge fashion show (with open bar, wee) featuring local talent, giant after-party at a loft in the West Loop (with open bar, wee) then an after-party at a bar in the Gold Coast. Very fun.. maybe too much fun for my own good on a Wednesday night but well worth the hang-over and the tiredness the next day. I did misplace my big gift bag somewhere along the way though. Something about copious amounts of champagne makes me forgetful of where I put things. I love free shit so I definitely mourned the loss of my gift bag but the time was fantastic.

The rest of the week and this weekend was business as usual. Work and showings this weekend and a couple of appointments today as well. I'm craving for a coke pretty bad, so I think I'll go make that happen.

M.db

The Loss of a Friend... sort of

2008-10-03T19:06:00.007-05:00

I try, while the weather is still pleasant, to enjoy my balcony and sit outside at least for a few minutes every day. Usually in the morning for coffee. Side-note I also seem to attract grasshopper-like creatures into my world. I've even blogged about it before (that 2004 post can be found here). The other day I was driving home and looked into the passenger side mirror as I was going down the road and noticed one of these guys had hitched a ride. He stayed there all the way to my condo and into my garage.. so I snapped a photo of him before I got out of the car.

So anyway a while back while I was enjoying my coffee on the balcony I also watered my plants and felt like I saw a leaf moving out of the corner of my eye. It wasn't a leaf but rather another grasshopper. I'm not a huge fan of bugs but this thing was actually pretty cool because he looked exactly like a leaf with his markings. It was remarkable that he matched the plant he was on nearly identically, so I took a picture. I had to wonder.. how on earth does a grasshopper end up on a balcony 33 stories above the ground? Either way I figured it to be a one-time sighting, took my paparazzi pictures of him and went about my coffee drinking.

The next day that I was sitting out there having my morning coffee, I looked over and there he was again. This time he crawled out from inside the plants and made his way across the glass table by the wall. When he got to the wall he slowly started crawling up it, poking around with his antennas. I must be the pied piper to these insects, I swear. A sexy talent, I might add, attracting bugs.

"Crazy grasshopper" I thought, and went about my business. Well, it kept happening. Every time I would go onto the balcony in the past few weeks I found myself looking around in the plant and feeling a little comforted when I would discover he was still there. I should just break down and get a dog, is what you're thinking. Well this week several days went by with no sign of the grasshopper. I figured he must have moved on to greener pastures or to a neighboring balcony where a resident takes better care of their plants. A couple days ago it started raining and I decided to go out onto the balcony and move one of my potted plants so it could be in the path of the rain to get some water. I moved the pot and it was suddenly like the opening scene to CSI Chicago. The thunder practically boomed and lightning struck (not really) at the very moment I moved the pot and discovered the lifeless body of my old friend the Grasshopper. Natural causes, I assume. I still felt sort of bad.. it was like if your cat had been missing and then days later you found he had been hit by a car who-knows-how-long-ago. Well, sort of like that... but a cat you only had for a couple weeks and that was really really small and green and had antennas and showed no affection towards you as an owner. Either way, I have to mourn the passing of yet another grasshopper that made its way into my surroundings. I'm sure there will be more.. riding on my car mirror, living outside my front door(as one did in College for a week), or hiding in the plants of my balcony. R.I.P. Grasshopper. I still haven't decided what to do with the body. Maybe I'll bury him in the flower pot.

G'night,
M.db

Giddyup

2008-09-29T17:08:00.004-05:00

My aunt came to town this weekend for my birthday (early). It was really nice to spend time with my favorite aunt. It's a lot like she's mom #2 to me and in many ways we're so similar that it's surprising I'm not her son. Great diversion from the grim economy news that keeps filtering into my brain.

Nothing much to report. Today turned cooler and rainy, fall must be around the corner and I hear winter follows shortly after that. I can't bring myself to study my Spanish for my Spanish class tonight. It's like I"m back in college, every Monday, as I start to procrastinate on doing 'homework.' Then I remind myself that I'm "only hurting myself" but procrastinating because I PAID for this class and actually WANT to take it.

Anyway, in an effort to procrastinate further, here's an unexpected picture of a policeman on a horse in the middle of Chicago. It made me grin because it seemed so out of place so I took a picture of it while I was driving.. and then probably ran over some people/broke some laws in the process of attempting to snap pics and drive. Good thing that cop can't catch up to a car on a horse! He's got one horse, apparently my car has the power of about 300.

M.db

dotcom

2008-09-22T01:03:00.002-05:00

Mason Against The World can now be accessed directly via the address "www.MasonAgainstTheWorld.com" If, however, you still prefer to do it the old way by typing mason1017.blogspot.com into your browser, well.. that'll work to.

Cheers,
M.db

Push 'em.. PUSH 'EM ALL!

2008-09-21T20:58:00.005-05:00

I've never wished I could vomit up everything I've eaten more in my life than I do now. Well, maybe a few other times, but tonight definitely is one of them. I went to dinner with Brian to try this new burger place and we decided to run the full gamut, you know to get a real sense for all the place has to offer. Two cokes, a premium cheeseburger, french fries, side of ranch and a chocolate-peanut butter malt later and here I am! Not quite sure how the elevator got me back upstairs because I think its max weight load is about 3,000 lbs and I'm certain I'm tipping the scales at 3,002 lbs after dinner. Ughhh so full.

When I was in the elevator just now a man got in with his dog at the same time I did. As I've mentioned before, sometimes I have a hard time NOT talking to someone in a quiet elevator when there's only two of us. It's almost like a game I play with myself wherein if I think of something small-talkish to say I then have this compulsion that I HAVE to say it or ELSE. It's like an internal bet I make with myself. For instance I'll think silently: "hmm that guy's dog has cool coloring" and I'll start to say it but think "eh, just be quiet." And then I'll instantly challenge myself: "if you DON'T say it by the time the elevator reaches.. floor 18 you have to hit your head against the side of the elevator three times and then push ALL the buttons. Hmm?! HMM?! which would you rather?" (just an example). So, naturally, I just say it so as not to lose the bet with myself and have to do the crazy alternative I've come up with. The problem is, once I've had all this internal conversation going on in my head; I go to actually speak and something weird usually comes out like "nice colors!!" all frantic and hasty so as to get it out before floor 18, in this example. This leaves the recipient of my comments to wonder why I have a non-vulgar form of tourettes and just exactly what I am talking about. The carpet color? The elevator's wall colors?

It wasn't that dramatic just now, though. The guy's dog in the elevator did have a really interesting coat and coloring so I said "he's got pretty coloring," and the guy was super nice and said "thank you" because apparently he's God and he created the dog and therefore can take responsibility for its interesting coloring. jk he was nice, what else could he say? "I'm not responsible for my dog's coloring"?

Wow craziest post ever.

Anyhow, he then started doing something that isn't that unusual but is none the less irritating if you really think about it. He went into dog-speak. Lots of people do this with their pets or their children who can't yet speak. He changed his voice and said, in what I suppose was his interpretation of how his dog would sound if he had the means to speak and said: "he said 'I've been inside ALLLL day! Yes I have, yes I have!'"

Um, no he DIDN'T say that, sir, and you know how I know he didn't? Because dogs can't talk! They simply lack that ability. I quickly and uncomfortably changed the subject to discuss the fog outside they must have just walked through and what funky weather we're having, so as not to accidentally tie myself into a conversation where maybe I would be required to speak "dog" as well. I thought about maybe making my fist into the shape of a hand-puppet and proclaiming on my fists behalf: "and HE says 'I've been attached to Mason's ARM all my LIFE! yes I have!'"

I didn't, of course, do or say that. But because I didn't I obviously lost a bet with myself, and after he got off the elevator I had to bang my head against the wall three times and push all the buttons.

G'night!
M.db

Feather Fight!

2008-09-06T19:12:00.002-05:00

Have you ever had a pillow fight?
If so, did the pillows explode into a feathery wonderland like they do EVERY time in the movies?

The answer is "no." When they show a whimsical pillow fight scene in a movie inevitably everyone's pillow bursts simultaneously sending feathers flying everywhere. Which, by the way, what a bitch to have to clean up later. I mean was that REALLY worth it? It always goes into slow motion mode, too, because once the pillows burst how much longer could you have fun with that activity? Think about it.. they explode and then 2 seconds later you're all basically just swinging empty cotton sacks around at each other. So the slow motion aspect of the pillow explosion is pretty necessary.

Where are these people getting their pillows though, an orphanage? Who buys pillows so cheap that they disintegrate once they are smacked against another pillow (or the side of a girl's head who is barely dressed)? That's got to be some sort of choking hazard because I imagine they would probably rip at the seams while you sleep after a while, too.

Anyway, just something to think about. I've never once had a pillow burst on me. I don't get involved in too many pillow fights either though, so what do I know.

Play on playa'
M.db

Crett and Brystal

2008-08-31T16:50:00.008-05:00

I spent the last few days in Houston visiting my friends Crystal and Brett (and of course their precious daughter Ellie). Brett is a dentist and was kind enough to take care of some pesky dental work I needed to have done. 2 birds, one stone, BAM! Visit friends, dental work, BAM!

Crystal and her lil' Monkey:

Crystal loves making people feel special and welcome and she's very good at it. She made me a welcome basket for when I arrived with all kinds of fun goodies in it. She even made sure I didn't have to waste space packing toothpaste, toothbrush, etc. by throwing those things into my welcome kit as well! It was so great to spend time with such wonderful people. Damnit! I was supposed to refer to them as Crett and Brystal to change-the-names/protect-the-innocent. Oh well. I jokingly told them if I ever wrote a book I'd change the names and they'd be Crett and Brystal rather than Brett and Crystal.. no one would ever figure it out.

On the flight to Houston I sat next to a man that took a nap starting about 30 minutes into the trip. I really admire people who can fall asleep on planes, I never can. Another thing I admire is creativity. And finally, I admire a good sense of humor. These things all tie together soon, I promise. You see (below) the man sitting next to me not only was able to fall asleep but he cleverly created a light-block by... well, look for yourself:

That's right, he covered himself completely with the airline blanket for his nap. Removed his hat, draped his body in that comfy poly-blend, and went straight to sleep. Well, I hope he was asleep, actually, because I couldn't resist (obviously) taking a picture of him and I would hate for him to have somehow seen that occur. But what good is a picture of him alone? I thought it would be a good idea to take a picture not only OF him but also WITH him:

And then I took it further. You see, I had a funny "what if" visual of me cuddling up to him and taking a nap of my own... like right on his shoulder. I thought the idea was so funny I decided to take a picture of what that scenario might look like.

Then, of course, I got super paranoid that maybe the airline blanket was one of those materials you can sort of see out of if you place it over your head (if for some ODD reason you felt inclined to do something like that). "Oh my God," I thought "what if he just watched me take three photos of him and also witnessed me pretending to sleep on his shoulder for the camera!?" So, and as if anyone who happened to be watching didn't already think I was clinically insane, I discreetly placed MY blanket over MY face to see if you could see out. *WHEW*! You couldn't.

He later removed the blanket in order to eat his meal and then promptly placed it back over his body until we landed. I wish I had that dude's mailing address, I'd send him some blinders. Seems like an easier fix. The entire flight, each time someone would look towards the row we were both sitting on, I felt like making a face to let them know I wasn't in any way connected to the blanket-monster sitting next to me other than via circumstance. You know, one of those "oh THIS guy?! Yeah, pssshht, I don't know either. I mean, Right?! Weird huh? No, pshht we're not even, no, not traveling together, I don't even know who that is" face.

The trip was a very nice diversion and I'm grateful to my friends for hosting me so kindly. I've Said it before and I'll say it again: I wish my dearest and oldest friends could somehow all be closer to me in distance. I'm thankful they're in my life, though, however far they may be.

Anyhow, back in Chicago. Happy Labor Day!
M.db

Back Home from Being Back Home

2008-08-17T14:18:00.004-05:00

Last week I traveled home for my cousin's wedding. She and I graduated from the same high school and the same class. We've always shared a lot of the same personality and though we aren't excellent at keeping in touch, it's always like no time has passed when we're around one another. Kathryn is always laughing and it's somewhat contagious. I felt so happy and a sense of pride filled me when I watched her marry a man who shares her wit and seems to have the same kind soul. Most importantly someone who loves her so much. I was envious of their shared laughter, we all want that.

I was honored to have been included in the wedding party (go Team Usher!), especially since I've only met her new husband on one other occasion. Kathryn, to me, has always felt like a friend I wished I was closer to. One that, every time you finish spending time with, you think "why DON'T we do this more often!?"

I changed her last name in my phone today when I was updating my address book. It felt so weird to change her name, almost like I might not be able to find her now under her new alphabetical location. Sort of the way I still instinctively open the top drawer of my dresser to find socks 5 months after I rearranged them to the 2nd drawer. New category, new location. Socks can't always stay in the same place.

I feel like I put my name in a new metaphorical location after this trip, too. I don't feel categorized under San Antonio, Texas any longer. I've always felt so happy to be AT home when I go, and sad to leave. When I get back to Chicago I feel happy to be here as well but sort of torn between two places to call "home."

I stepped out of the airport and waited for my ride once I got back to O'hare last week and, after almost exactly four years of living here, had what I call a "deep breath moment." Not a bad sigh, not a scared hesitation, just a "this is it.." I knew that though I've called this place home for several years, it's the Mason show here. This is where I've established my life and my career. I'm not playing house with this life. That 'new car smell' of a post-college life has worn off. It is a lot like a new car, actually. At first moving about life in an unfamiliar way, not sure how easily you can round corners or fit into certain spaces. Can I clear this obstacle? Will I make it under this barrier? How much power am I really dealing with? And then without noticing exactly when it changed you feel like one with your car.. or life in this case. Going home is my rental vehicle now. It's the temporary borrowed life that I'm not used to and settling back into my routines in Chicago are the familiar. Like a car I've had for a while my depth perception with my own life has become instinctual. I know where all the controls are, how fast I have to go to pass someone else and just how far I can go without running out of gas. When I round a tight corner, I know just how close I can come without scraping myself up.

There's always something difficult and comfortable at the same time about going "back home." Lauren said something profound to me last week when I was talking to her on the phone from Texas. She said: "I feel like when you're home you're made to feel like or convince yourself it's not okay to be you and I don't like that, because there's nothing wrong with you" (pardon the potential misquote if I didn't get it just right). She's correct and it's probably because my identity isn't tied up in being there any longer. And that's where the deep breath moment comes in. A realization that it's just me out here. It's hard to close an old chapter, but this was the first time I didn't feel necessarily sad to put it behind me when I left.

And at the end of this trip, I felt very comfortable pulling back into my spot here in Chicago. I could drive it with my eyes closed.. I am back home.

Mdb

Gettin Jiggy Wit' it

2008-07-28T15:32:00.004-05:00

Dear Will Smith,

I can't/won't take you seriously. You will always be The Fresh Prince of Bel-Aire to me. So next time you think about making a movie (or an album) just say "nah, forget it, yo homes.. to BEL-AIRE!"

Regards,
M.db

McObamaCain Graham Cracker

2008-07-27T20:55:00.007-05:00

As a former fattie I understand the importance of feeding a sweet tooth (and feeding in general). This evening after a couple glasses of red wine and a hot bath I decided that the tilapia with a side of steamed green beans I ate at 6pm wasn't holding me over any longer. It was clear I needed something more, something sweet. It's been 3 hours since dinner... three hours too long. Now, logic would have me make the short elevator ride down to my dealer to buy me a fix. My "dealer" is the building market on the ground floor. It's my "dealer" because I always purchase things there that are bad for me. Sodas, ice cream, cake batter (yes, that has happened) and alcohol- basically I'm just a few substances away from buying something illegal there like a dime or possibly something I could free-base, assuming I knew what free-basing entailed.

So, fresh off of my wine-jacuzzi experience I stood in my kitchen, naked, with a towel wrapped around my head like a turban, not because I needed to dry my hair but because I was tired of it falling off my waist. Plus it looked funny in the full length mirror every time I danced by it to the music playing from my iTunes. I opened the fridge, the freezer and the cabinets.. nothing. What would fix my craving?

"Be resourceful," I told myself "there's absolutely no reason to put clothes on and waste your time and money going downstairs when you could find something RIGHT here."

And find something I did. It was tough, but I did scrounge up some ingredients. A box of graham crackers, powdered sugar, a banana, cocoa powder and fat-free liquid coffee creamer. There was other stuff available, yes, but onions, salsa, gold fish and Kashi cereal wouldn't heal my desires. So, like a boy scout, or maybe an insatiably obese version of MacGuyver, I used what little materials I had to find a solution to my current problem.

A homemade chocolate icing-like-mixture (made with the powdered sugar, coffee creamer and cocoa powder) with 3 graham crackers smashed into it and topped with banana slices. "Disgusting!" you might exclaim, and I'll be honest I am not going to disagree with your sentiments. I will say, however, that with a lil' creativity, a few simple ingredients and a mild-to-moderate wine buzz, I'm now fairly convinced you can make sense out of any dilemma.

Hey, maybe Barack Obama could take the few simple ingredients that are his political experiences, use a lil' creativity and booze himself up a bit! Then, like me solving the issue of my sweet tooth, he could solve the mystery behind so eloquently rambling about change for months with no realistic ideas on implementation. Ohhhhhhhhhh I just got all political on your ass! Let's not go there (and calm the fuck down, it's a joke).

But speaking of things that are a seemingly appealing quick-fix to current problems yet have absolutely no substance and are probably detrimental to your well-being in the long run... here's a picture of my gross dessert creation. I'd tell you the exact proportions I used but I'm considering selling the recipe to Appleblee's and I'm not interested in you beating me to the punch. I think I'll actually vote for this graham cracker thing in the 2008 election as a write-in candidate. It probably has more political experience than Obama and is a lot younger than McCain. Win-win. We shall call it McObamaCain-Surprise and it will rule with an iron fist!

Very Truly,
M.db

oh, and if you dare comment on the political jokes/references (remember, just jokesssss) made in this post I swear to God I will punch you...I'll punch you right in the hand you use to VOTE. Then I'll make fun of you for taking things too seriously and having a gimp hand with no voting abilities.

Hi Mi

2008-07-21T11:43:00.002-05:00

Dear Michigan,

Your license plates are extremely boring. Please change them.

Love,
Mdb

Italian Pride on the 4th of July

2008-07-04T15:09:00.003-05:00

I love that Chicago has a very active public transportation system. I have plenty of friends who say things like "Ugh, I haven't ridden the bus in FOREVER" with that disgusted tone as if they can't believe I'd step foot on one. I, however, love that when I'm walking down the street I can just jump on a passing bus that will take me where I'm going a lot faster than on foot and for under two bucks. It's like a great big crowded taxi, but one that stops a lot, is a lot less expensive.. and is sounding nothing like a taxi at all suddenly. Anyway, I digress. You know what's worth even more than convenience and a buck seventy five? The entertainment factor that can be found within the confines of a Chicago Transit Authority vehicle.

I feel somewhat bad even posting this but don't worry I didn't make it obvious that I snapped this photo with my phone - I pretended I was text messaging. I couldn't help myself, though. This person was either asleep or dead but either way was making quite a spectacle. A big... fat... spectacle. Her calf tat reads: "Italian Pride." And proud the Italians must be on this the fourth day of July as this woman cruises around town, passed out on a bus, mouth open, taking up THREE seats and representing Italy and Italians everywhere:

Oh, and this guy standing next to her had a tear in his pants, which I also liked for some reason. Not sure within what nationality/country his pride lies.. probably just good ole' American. We may never know because if he has a calf tat letting us know, it was covered. Pity.

Happy Fourth of July,
M.db

New EVERYTHING

2008-07-03T17:16:00.007-05:00

As mentioned my condo has new paint, yay. Also, my building's board voted a while back to give our hallways new carpet, yay 2.0!

My floor finally got the carpet installed (they're obviously doing it floor be floor x48 floors which is a daunting task I don't care to even think about) and I'm happy about the new flooring. The color.. whatever, it's fine and neutral and way better than the blue shit we had before, but what I'm most excited about is that new carpet smell. It makes me super happy. Every time I get off the elevator and walk down the hall I breathe in that fresh carpet aroma and then walk into my newly painted condo and it's just so much newness I don't even know what to do with myself!

I'm glad the hallway has some new decor going on. I think the timing of the new carpet right as I got new paint seems great. I feel like it somehow coincides with the new scheme within my condo. The hall is like an extension of my home after all, even if it is public domain. Does this make any sense?

Mmmm that 'new carpet smell,' so good I could almost munch on it (gross mason):

My only regret is that the condo board voted against the expense of replacing the wall sconces that I lovingly refer to as the "Headroom sconces" because I'm pretty sure my building's decorator was Max Headroom at the time of construction (ie- the sconces look so 1986 it's not even funny).

My building's apparent interior designer back when this place was erected in '87:

The Headroom Sconce pictured below. If you click this picture to enlarge it you can see, in more detail, the lovely white metal texture and fantastically dated geometric shape of the sconce. They might as well have installed lights that looked like rubix cubes and somehow played "Girls Just Want To Have Fun" as you pass them. 1987 was a good year though and if I ever need reminding of that all I have to do is walk out my front door:

Anyway, hooray for that new-condo-smell
M.db

41° 47' N 87° 45' W

2008-07-03T14:43:00.004-05:00

Yay! My place is completely painted and it only took the crew two days instead of the estimated four. The experience overall was really great. I'm glad I went with a company that was high end and professional, after they were gone there wasn't even an ounce of dust from sanding. I'm loving the color choices as well.

While the painters were here I was around a lot of the time since I work from home. At one point I had my music playing on my laptop while I stood in the kitchen (no where else to sit) and my iTunes playlist was on. iTunes started going through my collection of Shakira's "old stuff," pre-crossover to English. I'm a big ole' fan of Spanish music but I also realize that I look about as Latino as a red-headed Irishman. The painters, on the other hand, were Mexican.

I didn't want to turn my music off, I LIKE my Piez Descalzos album, but I was starting to feel like the painters might assume it was a strategic move on my part. Like "Look! The music of YOUR people!" So I turned it down each time they were in the area because I felt like a kid trying to show off to the older boys by pretending to drink alcohol or something.

This past weekend I went to NYC to visit lauren and had a nice time just relaxing and spending good quality friend-time together. And, of course, eating at S'mac which I do every time I visit. S'mac serves a billion different varieties of gourmet macaroni and cheese and I'm seriously considering stealing the idea and opening one of my own in Chicago. I probably wouldn't let anyone in the door though, I'd just sit in the restaurant and eat all the macaroni myself.

I love Chicago so hard. I think it's a good sign when you return from a trip and feel so ecstatic to be back. Not because you didn't have a good time, not because you didn't enjoy where you were, but because you're exactly where you want to be. It's like coming home to a lover after having been away from them for a few days. Actually, I sort of hate the word "lover," it sounds creepy but for this example you get it. I thoroughly enjoyed visiting lauren in New York (her city lover) and got excited to be back in the arms of Chicago, my city lover. Wait.. is that sad? My lover is a city. Oh well, I am happy in my relationship with Chicago.

M.db

Fabuloso

2008-06-23T15:13:00.003-05:00

I am having my condo repainted, which I'm quite excited about. I actually procured myself a color specialist, of sorts, to contract the job out for me and assist me in the process of selecting the colors. I am the type of person who can pick out of a catalog an entire "look" that I find pleasing, but not necessarily know how to start from scratch and bring it all together on my own with a blank slate. I can walk into a someone else's home that I like and say "yes, yes, exactly this.. I want all of this!" Yet get in my own house and try to coordinate things much the way a half-retarded chimpanzee might. So, a little professional help was necessary. Not to mention the fact that if I tried to paint the place on my own I'd probably bore of it 1/18th of the way through the job and, let's face it, just have paint in my hair.

The color consultation today was fun and she helped me achieve what I'm looking for- I am anxious to get the place painted. She's all zen-like and keeps talking about how the color is a mood and it's all about the feeling. I agree, but obviously get a little less horny about colors than she seems to. That's why I'm the Realtor and she's the whatever she is. She's very earthy seeming and I can almost guarantee you that her home follows Feng Shui without even having to see it.

My cleaning lady was here at the same time as this little tap dance of color was going on and while my bathroom was getting scrubbed the color lady decided to give me a piece of advice. Now here's what I have a problem with- unsolicited advice from people you don't know well at all. Maybe it's more of the manner in which it is approached that bothers me. We were in the middle of looking at a color palette when the painting expert stopped mid-sentence to advise me "you really should have your cleaning lady use natural organic cleaning supplies.. I mean, we're all breathing that in, all those CHEMICALS"

Yep, we are, and call me old fashioned but the smell of Soft Scrub With Bleach and Fabuloso floor cleaner (lavender scent - mmm!) makes me feel not only sanitized, but happy. I am sure that chemical free cleaners are MUCH easier on my lungs and probably will extend my life by at least 38 seconds so I know she has a point, but A.) I didn't ask and B.) When I hire you to clean my house you can make suggestions on the products I use, until then let's keep talking about paint colors.

I just don't like suggestions that start out with "you really should..."

"Hey, in your own home, you should really do what I tell you to do."

Okay, I'll get right on that. But cleaning products that, by the way my housekeeper goes through faster than she goes through air, are on the list of things I try to keep the cost low on. Whole Foods is where I buy fruit, not floor cleaner and there's a reason for that. I'm eating the fruit and walking on the floor. Don't. Care. Enough. To. Care.

Again, I get it and appreciate the advice, but people "really should" just give advice where it's requested or at least present it in a decent manner. I wanted to tell her she "really should" consider a manicure but you didn't see me overstepping my boundaries. No ma'am.

I really should get going- my eyes are burning from all the chemicals in this place, I can't even imagine how the housekeeper feels right now.
M.db

Myself in the Mirror

2008-06-05T21:09:00.004-05:00

Maybe it's true what they say, that everyone made someone else's life miserable at some point during childhood school days. I wasn't a bully. On the contrary, I was the awkward one most of my growing up years.

I was getting my hair cut today and as I was sitting in the chair I started thinking about this kid whose life I made miserable on the playground when I was in 1st grade. I have no idea where the thought came from, absolutely nothing triggered it. Maybe my mind decided it was time to worry about something new, which would be typical. I don't think I'm comfortable unless I'm uncomfortably worrying about SOMETHING. If you know me, you realize this is pretty spot on.

I was in first grade at the private school I attended and for some reason I made this one kid in pre-k the target of mind control. I can't quite recall how it all started or how long it lasted. I know it didn't go on too terribly long, maybe about a month. Go figure, even in 1st grade my follow-through skills were kind of weak.

Either way, he was a sweet little kid who seemed overly innocent and probably kind of shy. You could tell just by looking at him. The school was small, about 24 children per grade, so recess was shared by several grade levels at a time and everyone knew one another. I want to say his name was Thomas and for whatever reason I started giving him shit one day. The funny thing is, I was the opposite of a bully, like I said. In fact, I was quite the "overly innocent and probably kind of shy" kid myself. I specifically recall the moment when I understood I had power over the situation. I honestly thought we were both sort of playing around at the beginning until I saw he was truly scared of me. I instantly felt awful inside at the thought of making someone feel bad and I saw qualities of myself in his innocence and fear. We were goofing off at the onset, I assumed, and I felt looked up to like an older student but now it hit me- he was terrified of me. The remorse feeling suddenly turned into something else, however. What started as just me being a dick one afternoon turned into a power trip when I realized that I was ACTUALLY making someone afraid. I was hooked on this power.

For the next several weeks, I forced this poor child to meet me on the playground so I could torment him for a few minutes until I got my fill. All I had to do was wave him over and he'd stop whatever playground activity he was doing and reluctantly make his way to where I was like a criminal approaching a firing squad, knowing there's no way out at this point. It surprised me.. why was someone OBEYING me? All I had to do was wave him over and he'd come?! I had control over something. I never laid a hand on him, of course, it wasn't a violent or creepy thing. Rather, I would just poke some fun at him and told him stupid 1st grade things like that I'd make him eat worms if he didn't stay under the monkey bars for the next ten minutes.

The odd thing is I wasn't mean to ANYONE, I was a nice kid. But something snapped when I understood that another person was actually afraid of me. ME of all people. I was supposed to be the one afraid of things. I was the soft one. If he had thrown dirt in my face and ran away to tell the teacher, I'd have been scared of HIM probably. I was afraid of far less, after all. I even made him cry a couple times. That is until I told him I'd make him eat worms if he didn't stop crying. It was like torture on a juvenile level, but still, it was a very real torment for this poor child. As I said, none of this went on for long. I wasn't a mean kid, but like all bullying, getting away with it the first time is what let it continue. I remember always feeling sort of bad but it felt nice to be revered.

One day while on the playground I called my best friend, Lewis, over as well. I recall feeling very stupid when Lewis gave me a sort of "what the fuck?" look when he saw that I found so much joy in picking on someone half my size. The details are fuzzy, it was years ago, but I think when asked if he'd like to join in Lewis said something along the lines of "... no thanks" and walked off. I stopped harassing the kid shortly after.

Fast forward to this afternoon, 2008: I had zoned out as I mulled over those 1st grade recess days. When I snapped back to present day and my vision focused again, I caught a glimpse of myself in the salon's mirror in front of me; a look of quasi-disgust on my face while my hair was being styled. I'm 27 now, that makes pre-k-kid around 24 probably. He may not even remember being picked on by me but I couldn't help but to feel horrible inside as I sat there thinking about it.

I was telling Jazmin about it later on and then I got an epiphany. I WAS the pre-k-kid. He was everything I was. Sweet, timid, obedient, easily swayed and sensitive. Qualities that, as I developed, I learned to hate about myself. Little boys weren't supposed to be sensitive. My guess is that this was brought to my attention right around the time I was in 1st grade so naturally it was a good idea to destroy that part of me, even if it meant destroying it in someone else. I was the pre-k-kid. I saw myself in him. It was wrong to be that way and therefore it was time to pay it forward and make someone else realize they needed to hate about them what I hated about me.

It makes me want to cry to think I could be such an asshole, even if it was for 3 weeks and I was 7. He probably doesn't even remember, but I hope he's doing alright these days, I wonder what happened to him.

I'm sorry pre-k-kid. I hope you didn't lose the sweet and the somewhat innocent parts of yourself. It wasn't until I was in my 20's that I realized that sweet, somewhat innocent and sensitive were qualities that are pretty special in such an otherwise harsh world. I hope no one, other than some jerk on the playground in 1986, ever preyed on those qualities or made you feel they weren't okay. I'm okay with me now, I hope you are okay with yourself, too.

M.db

Take Your Momma Out

2008-06-01T12:44:00.005-05:00

My mom took me to London and Paris a couple of weeks ago. It was such a fun and amazing trip, I was absolutely blown away by the beauty of Paris. London was spectacular as well. We hit all the high points, had private guides and excellent meals. Stonehenge, Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's Cathedral, Tower of London, took the chunnel high speed train to Paris under the English Channel. We saw Versailles, The Louvre, Paris Opera House, Notre Dame, etc etc. It was a trip of a lifetime for sure, I am so thankful to have been able to go. I can't even begin to think of a way to thank my mom. She took me in true first class style and I was numb by the end of the trip with how top notch everything was. We had a good time together, too, which is something I was worried about. Not that we don't get along but it's scary to think about only having one person around you to talk to for two weeks and it being your mom. I'm stir crazy with anyone being 2 feet away from me for twelve days as it is. I get cranky. But it was so fun. I took pictures of EVERYTHING, but truth be told: the pictures never quite did any of the grandeaur justice, it was so weird. I would be standing at the foot of something jaw-dropping, take a picture of it, and look back at the photo like "wha..?!" Nothing made it look as ridiculously incredible as it was in person.

Either way, it was great. We were away over Mother's Day so I kept telling everyone it was a mother's day trip that I took my mom on. They don't have mother's day over there but they still thought my lie was very sweet. Obviously it was the other way around- she took me.

The British seemed to not like Americans much. Not all of them, but some. I thought it would be the French that spit on us as we walked down the street. On the contrary, they were very nice and the British were the obnoxious ones who spoke very loudly around us about how they loathe the ignorance of our people. I just asked them if they spoke German fluently and reminded them that if it weren't for my ignorant country bailing them out of WWII they would currently be hailing Hitler and speaking the Deutsch. Most of these confrontations happened in my head, of course, and I just killed them with kindness by smiling. But mostly I smiled to show them what properly cared for teeth should look like. Cheers!

No, but it was a remarkable trip and the people were nice. I have to claim Paris as my favorite of the two places. I told my mom when we got there "I get it, I finally get it." I understand now what the fuss is about and why people LOVE Paris so much, how could you not? They can be snots all the want, I would be too! (and really they didn't seem to be). They kinda live in a cool place. OOOh and the history. I won't bother to get into it all, it was just great though. Returning to the US was like landing back in Lego-land. Things seem so "new" and plastic. I was in several 800 year old buildings there- makes our history seem so brief.

I need to get my pics up onto Flickr or something. Until then, here's a small sample.

Mom and I at a Gordon Ramsey restaurant in London:

Cheers! Drinks on our last night in London:

Pretty self explanatory:

Boarding the flight back home. Bye bye Europe:

Take off- departing back to Chicago:

Eurostar- High speed train, 200+ mph.. outside of Paris

M.db

Nothing to Write Home About

2008-04-30T12:14:00.002-05:00

I was telling Kevin a story the other day, I don’t know what I was discussing, but I mentioned to him that it was “nothing to write home about,” and then I had to stop myself. Exactly what would be worth physically WRITING home about? The answer is nothing. What event is so great that you drop everything, grab a pen and paper, 1890’s style, and scurry off to pony express a memo out to the folks. I think we should do away with this sentence and phase in something along the lines of “it’s nothing to email home about.” After all, if indeed the event in question WAS worth telling people back home about, wouldn’t it be urgent enough to constitute a quicker notification than 3-5 business days via the USPS?

I realize that “nothing to write home about” has its origins in the days prior to email and telephonic devices. But that brings me to my next point, which is “Oh my GOD how terrible to live in a time of such inconvenience.” Picture it, you live in the 1800’s and something big and exciting does happen. Maybe you bought a new horse for 2 shillings or you and your family someone DIDN’T die of scurvy or malaria and you wanted to alert your family back in jolly ole’ England of the good news. Well get ready because the horse you bought and everyone else probably WILL be dead by the time your correspondence reaches its destination. I get sick to my stomach picturing myself crossing the Atlantic on a boat fashioned together by a guy named Jebediah down at the town’s boat-making-shoppe (spelled that way, it’s the old days remember).

I’ve told several people in the past that I know I would never survive back in the “old days” and that I know this to be true. Their response is always logical and something to the effect of “but you wouldn’t know any different way of life if you lived in the 1800’s, there would be nothing to compare it to.” To which I always answer “yes I would.” It’s true, I think I would somehow just KNOW that something was off. I’d be cruising around in my horse and carriage at about 4 mph just sensing that something was amiss. I may never have heard of a “car" but I’d still know there was a need for me to be riding on heated leather seats while grasping a steering wheel not straddling an English saddle holding reigns. I’d ride into town to buy a bag of dry goods for dinner and start craving something I’ve never even tasted (like a nice risotto or a vodka-soda with a lime). It would be like dejavu and I would intuitively know I was born in the wrong era. It’s no wonder people only lived to about 30 years old back then, what was there to live for? I’d give up at about 30, too. The sheer boredom experienced while awaiting the postal service to deliver things on horseback would be enough to strike me dead. I, too, can imagine checking out of life early when I knew that all I had to look forward to was marrying a woman named Bessie and plowing the fields (and Bessie) for the remainder of my days. Haha, I just said plowing her. Sorry. Happened without intention.

So speaking of modern convenience, I fly to London and then Paris with my mom in a week. *deep breath* She planned this mother/son excursion because she’s always wanted to take me to those two cities and God bless her for it. Still, I remain a tad hesitant when I think of spending 12 days within 12 inches of my mother. We’re close and very similar in many ways but I can get a little… “snippy” when we’re in quarters that are too close considering she can be a tad overbearing. I love her, we’ll have fun..or never speak to each other again after returning. Nah, we’ll have fun.. but deep breath none the less.

Well now, all the above had made me sound quite the turd so I better stop while I’m only slightly behind. I think that I will try to blog during my trip. Not sure if I'll have time, but it might be fun to document the two weeks as they are actually happening. We’ll see if this idea transpires.

Well, this post is nothing to write home about.
Until next time,
M.db

When Mason Met Sleeplessness

2008-04-17T01:53:00.003-05:00

So I'm watching When Harry Met Sally on t.v. because I haven't been able to fall asleep yet (1:52am and counting..) and quite frankly there's nothing else on at this hour. I actually quite like this movie, though. I'm not sure that it was Meg Ryan's first BIG role but I'm assuming it was at least one of her firsts if not the. She has, since this role, played the same character over and over again. Good job Meg, way to diversify your acting. God bless her for it, but seriously how many times can she make that pouting face or over dramatize a distraught moment while sniffling and bumbling her way through sentences that just make us want to SQUISH her down to pocket size and shove her into our coat for later use because she's just so damned lovable? The answer is: EVERY time, that's how many times. Either way, we love her- it sells. The funny thing is I have heard she's like some crazy party animal in real life. I like thinking of her as the sweet Tom Hanks sidekick that who, somehow, off camera becomes a raging alcoholic that loses her shit every time she gets a few gin and tonics in her system. In my mind I picture her maybe throwing a chair across a bar at a waitress who 'looked at her funny.' Probably has never happened though.

"I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you realize you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible"

That line just happened. Good line. Bravo, writers of When Harry Met Sally, bravo.

Also while I was laying here watching TV, not sleeping and drinking a glass of wine, I saw an advertisement on TV. It was something to do with clothing, not sure what brand. That's neither here nor there. The point is, when I saw this advertisement I thought to myself "HEY! Why don't *I* have good clothing style and a great sense of fashion like those people in the clothing ad?!" So I jumped up out of bed and did inventory of my entire closet. Chastising myself and my lack of taste all the while. I started trying on different clothing combinations and have successfully put together a pile of clothes to give away that consists of things I can't stand to ever look at again (suddenly). I own it, I'm crazy. I've also come up with several new "looks" though, so that's a plus. I'm still generally dissatisfied, but such is life. Such is MY life, I always seem to want something more. I'm the type of person who would throw away everything he owns every few months and start over again if he was able to do so. I'd pitch furniture, clothes, car, friends. Everything- throw it all out and start fresh. Just kidding on the car thing, I'd do that every year maybe, not every few months. Teasing again, it's the friends that I wouldn't throw out every few months, don't worry. Actually, I'm also a pack rat at times which I realize makes no sense considering the aforementioned. It's like Kimberly and I were discussing the other day; everyone has their contradictions. That's one of my many contradictions because on one hand I am the type that will dispose of something I've used only once yet hang onto a pair of pants (found this out tonight) that I've had for years JUST in case I might need red pants at some point. This occasion (hopefully) will never occur. Contradiction, y'all.

Work has been sort of busy, and that's a plus. I'd like to officially blame my blogging absence on that fact but in reality there's a bit of laziness that comes into play as well.

Either way, more to come sooner than later!
For now, me and my increased blood alcohol level shall retire to sleep. I'm not spell checking this, grammar proofing it or anything of the sort. You're welcome.
Until then,
M.db

Memories and Other Garbage

2008-03-28T23:12:00.005-05:00

The other day I found a folder filled with memories from that trip we took together. I was cleaning out the cabinets in my kitchen, throwing things away that didn't need to clutter my life any longer.

I threw that folder away.

I forgot I had saved those things from so long ago and honestly don't know what I had planned to do with them at the time. The hotel confirmation. Our itinerary. A few postcards from the area. Our airline tickets.. with seat assignments printed on the front, serving almost as proof that we sat next to each other.

Guilt swept over me as I tossed the pictures from that underwater camera we used into the pile of waste. We looked really happy in those photos and seeing the smiling images placed on top of trash seemed wrong. Soon the happy beach scenes were covered with an old coffee maker, the box my cell phone came in and other garbage. I don't think of the memories as disposable waste so it feels incorrect to destroy them yet pointless to hang onto them. What am I going to do, frame the pictures? Keep the folder inside my cabinet under the phone book? These memories are fond in my mind but not necessary in their physical form. Still, aborting the tangibles feels strange.

Down the garbage shoot.

..and now,
no proof that our seats were together. Nothing to show that we sat beside each other for a moment in time.

..and for now,
I travel alone.

M.db

Costco

2008-03-17T18:49:00.003-05:00

I went to Costco today. I seriously have no business being a member of that store. I live in a 1 bedroom condo in the city. There's no room in my home for the 500lb bags of everything they sell. I'm not feeding a family of 10 and I don't operate a restaurant. Even still I generally go once every couple months when I run out of things like paper towels or of course if I simply feel the need to buy 2 gallons of mayonnaise.

Today it was paper towels, toilette paper, sodas (about a billion cans), Heineken Light (about a billion bottles), bottled water (see the trend? about a billion bottles), a 12-pack container of Orbitz gum, huge bottle of vodka (it just happened.. wasn't planned) and a case of Tazo organic iced green tea that lauren was just talking to me about.

When I got in the elevator at my building with the cart full of enormous-sized groceries, a lady sharing the 'vator with me said "where on earth do you have room to keep all that?" I replied "I don't.."

The truth is, I do have a really large utility closet in my bathroom that can house the overflow of bottled water, sodas or anything else that there's no room for elsewhere. Under the bathroom sink is where, surprisingly, all of the toilette paper fit. I hope no one opens that cabinet until the stash has dwindled a bit. It's full. Side to side, top to bottom. It looks like I either have a toilette paper obsession or I'm anticipating some serious stomach problems in the near future.

I have to go start using some of this stuff up so there's more room.
M.db

Sprinklers

2008-03-17T13:07:00.004-05:00

Last night I had dinner with Brian. After I dropped him off I decided to take a drive rather than head straight home. I went south on Lake Shore Dr. and watched the Chicago skyline rise up to meet me, a crystal clear night. I drove through the relatively quiet streets of the Gold Coast neighborhood and passed the first place I called 'home' in this city. It was so routine, driving my old streets, that I could make each turn blindfolded if required. I could pull into my old garage without skipping a beat and it would seem routine, yet it's a billion years ago. Fresh, brand new, knowing no one.

I almost felt silly for feeling a bit nostalgic over a time period that is only a few short years ago. None the less I reflected on how much life differs now and the amount of change/growth that can occur in a relatively short time span.

Cliche, I know, but some things also never change. In the driveway of my old building sat the car of the driver who frequented the building to pick up clients but also just to chat with the doorman that he was friends with during his off hours. Three years later, he's still stopping by. That was comforting to me for some reason. To know that not everything moves on. Someone else is living in #1407 though.

I couldn't help but to also think of my first true friend in Chicago. A friend who was my neighbor in that building. My comfortable stand-by companion, my pal. A friend who received all of me, both good and bad. A friend I counted as a lifer. A friend who has since moved out of that apartment building and moved out my life as well. Now, an occasional lunch together feels more like meeting up with a childhood friend you haven't seen in years. One you used to run through the sprinklers laughing with as a kid, inseparable closeness every day, but now have nothing in common with as an adult. A quick catch-up on the highlights of each other's lives since we last spoke. A catch-up on the life that the other one is not included in anymore. It feels awkward, sitting across from a person who used to know your every move, understand each fear, happiness and pain you experienced but now is as much of a stranger as your hair stylist. Someone who gets the updates about once a month when you're scheduled to meet. Life is peculiar, Choices are made.

This weekend I ran into a guy that I used to be, but by choice am no longer, friends with. I said hello but I was ignored. There he stood with the same significant other as 2 yrs. prior. The same one who he constantly complained to me about. Still holding grudges and pretending people don't exist like a 7th grader. It phased me for about 20 minutes. Then I realized where I'm at and how I feel with my current life. How different I am from the new guy in town who was his friend. I'm miles from that Mason now. The passing of time has not benefited or changed that old friend, or I can at least assume this from his actions. That, to me, is depressing. But with some people I don't mourn a friendship lost. He was never a lifetime friend in my book, but rather a relationship meant to last only a season. Something I realized later, of course.

Others.. well it's harder to let go of them when you figured they would never leave your life. Brian reminded me at dinner why he doesn't have many female friends. If you're not in a romantic relationship with them, they will use you to fill a purpose for a time and someday, inevitably, pack their bags and walk out on you without looking back. Though I know it's not true for everyone, he's still right, I've had it happen before. It always feels like betrayal to me, I don't give of myself to many. That doesn't make the time spent together any less special nor does it mean it was an insincere relationship on either persons part. Rather, it simply is what it is.

There's always the good times to look back on. The days of running barefoot through the sprinklers, if you will.
M.db

Counter Lickin' Good

2008-03-14T21:40:00.006-05:00

I just saw a preview for a new movie starring Ryan Philipe (or however the hell you spell his f*ed up name) and was thinking about how him and Reese Crazy-chin-witherspoon aren't together anymore. Breaking up is hard enough when you have to see the person around town. I mean I know when I sever ties, in some cases, I wish the person would just move to China or something rather than me having to run into them at Walgreens when I'm picking up face wash, coffee filters and a Cadburry Cream Egg. But imagine having a Hollywood break-up? The person you break up with would appear in your living room on a movie preview when you're just trying to enjoy a quiet Friday night on the couch watching TV with a cup of coffee and perhaps eating a Cadburry Cream Egg?! You can't really avoid a person when they weasel their way in front of your face via channel 12.

You know what phrase I am utterly and disgustingly tired of hearing on TV? "Women who are nursing, pregnant or may become pregnant." Every medication advertised in the entire world is not good for "women who are nursing, pregnant or may become pregnant," just fyi, and they say it on every commercial while listing the side-effects. And, since women are the only sex of the two sexes that can actually get pregnant.. aren't all women under the blanket of "may become pregnant?" Maybe not, I don't know, just something to think about. (Please don't post a comment saying "no they mean women who are trying to get pregnant.. and besides some women can't have children." I know, I get it, it's called a rhetorical question).

So, with Southwest Airlines' recent issues with safety inspections/violations in mind (much of which I feel is unfair as they were made an example of over something that is widespread throughout the airline industry, but that's another story) they need to change their slogan from "You are now free to move about the country" to "You are now free to move about the country at risk of this plane disintegrating in mid-air."

Dear girls of the world,
Not everyone can pull off that outfit of the matching Juicy Couture velvet-like sweat pants and matching zip-front jacket. Please make sure you are one of the girls who can indeed pull it off before you slide that thing on over your fat ass and prance around town like you're in pajamas. I'm tired of seeing you look like you rolled out of bed 10 minutes ago yet somehow managed to put sunglasses on but not make anything else about you presentable.
Love,
Me.

Something that is so typically me is trying to do things myself, or make some sort of improvement in my home, yet in the process causing bigger problems than those I was trying to solve in the first place. Example: I am the type of person who will try to save the money of hiring a painter by painting my living room myself. Instead, I end up spilling paint all over the floor thus requiring the floors to be re-done and costing more money than it would have to just hire someone else (a professional someone else) to do the paint job for me in the first place. This particular example never happened, but it's just an example. Tonight I decided to clean my kitchen and thought I'd be EXTRA clean and Windex the counter even behind the coffee maker and the wine rack. Instead I made an even bigger mess than I was trying to clean as I pulled the wine rack towards me and a wine bottle slid out of the back of the rack and shatter all over the counter. 750ml of red wine began to flow in every direction, down the cabinets and raced its way towards both my laptop and the stack of work papers that were nearby. A quick clean-up of the kitchen turned into a roll of paper towels wasted, a t-shirt ruined and about 20 minutes of additional work. Proving my point again: less headache if I just hire someone else to do it, even if "it" is just cleaning my damn counters. Of course the broken wine bottle wasn't one of the three bottles of cheap "2 Buck Chuck" wine from Trader Joe's. No, it was a bottle some friends brought over one night when I hosted them at my place. I had been saving it to drink later and looked forward to trying it. I loved the bottle shape, too. I almost licked some of the wine off the counter (not lying) just to taste the wine I had been saving for weeks. There were tiny pieces of glass everywhere though, so I figured it might not be a good idea.

I bought a chair today that I had to assemble myself (another thing someone else should do for me). A 10 minute process turned into over an hour of happy-fun-project time because the chair (my luck) was put together incorrectly so, long story very short, I had to drill my OWN holes in the wood with my own power tools to put the thing together properly. The chair was such a bargain but by minute number 47 into the assembly I wished I had just paid 900 bucks for a chair at Room and Board and called it a day. I'm happy with it now though.

Well, that's about all.
M.db

Commitment Issues

2008-03-14T14:14:00.005-05:00

I sit here at my desk, which has a couple shelves above it, and see 10 books lining the 2nd shelf above my laptop. I started reading about 5 of those books and got to about chapter 4 (on average) and put the book down. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy what I read, I think I just have a commitment problem with reading. If I were 11 years old someone would probably diagnose me (along with all of my other peers who were lazy like me) with ADHD and throw some aderol down my throat twice a day. No it's not ADHD, but rather I truly think I have a problem committing to certain endeavors.

If I miss one appointment with the dentist for example, I have the hardest time rescheduling. I feel like just changing dentists all together and calling it a new day. I once got too busy to keep up my regular schedule of visiting the Chiropractor I was seeing. The receptionist would call to reschedule and let me know I had missed my appointment. I ignored the calls and switched to a different Chiropractor a couple months later. Why?! I'd hate if someone did that to me. Couldn't make an appointment with me and then just switched Realtors rather than saying "oh i got busy, let's try again."

I tend to just back slowly away from things once I get far enough along that it starts to become routine and I've either A.) tired of the routine or B.) missed a couple treatments/chapters/days/appointments. Starting back up again seems like a lot of effort, after all.

It's a sheer wonder that I've been taking Spanish classes once a week for the past few months and have continued to do so. Usually I get about, well.. four chapters into something, and think "eh, that was fun but NEXT!" I don't know that this necessarily spills over into people and relationships. Who am I kidding, it does. "That was fun, but mehh. NEXT!" I wonder what the conversion would be from chapters into weeks or months in that scenario. I'm guessing 4 chapters in my book commitment world equals something along the lines of 5 months in time for interpersonal relationships.

Speaking of, someone just told me today "I still think of you often, especially when I see your name in my phone." All I could respond with was "..that'll do it!" I mean seriously? I think of you 'every time I see your name in my phone' ?? No shit, Sherlock, that's like saying apples cross my mind every time I eat one.

What were we talking about? Oh well, who cares.
This was fun but.. NEXT!
M.db

Spring Forward

2008-03-08T17:56:00.006-06:00

Every year my family takes at least one trip together. The trip is a time for us to meet and discuss the Limited Liability Corporation that the four of us have together. It's a business, or sorts, and at least once a year we need to go through the past happenings, current doings and future endeavors we plan to partake in for the coming year. More importantly, it's an opportunity to be together somewhere fun and we hold the meeting in a different location annually. This year we went to Mexico and spent time at the Grand Bay resort at Isla Navidad. Very divertido. Here's a picture I took of exactly where we stayed, as seen from the plane as we departed. Boo, back to Chicago and all its frigid glory.

It took two days to get home from Mexico. Our flight from Manzanillo to Houston was delayed due to weather in Texas. We, therefore, missed our connections and I spent the night in Houston. My parents, my brother and my brother's wife all were able to get on a later flight to San Antonio. The last flight to Chicago, however, was sold out. Luckily, my old good friend Crystal and her husband live in the Houston area and I was so glad to spend an evening with them. I met their beautiful two month old daughter, Ellie, for the first time as well. Less than 24 hours after getting to their home I was off to the airport again. Leaving behind a really warm and pleasant trip to Mexico and an old friend I hadn't expected to spend time with.

Whenever I get home to Chicago from a trip south during the winter time, I have such love/hate feelings. I take at least 3 days to re-adjust to the cold dead winter again. Chicago is such a happy place in the summer. Though I love the change in seasons, winter is just about 2 months too long here. I'm always surprised at how ALIVE the city comes after winter is over. Energy pumps through the streets and people flock to the outdoors, appreciating what they haven't had for so long and will lose again in a few short months. It's just sad to know that it is early March and we're still not exactly "close" to dining al fresco, jogging by the lake, and wearing shorts. March is always the hardest month for me. In December, I'm excited for the cold and Christmas-time seems more festive in the snow. January and February are SUPPOSED to be cold, they don't bother me one bit. But this month signifies "spring" in my mind and growing up it was when people began to swim outside again. Bar-b-q's began to happen. Sweaters were put away and everyone geared up for summer. My parents told me today that they planted in their garden this weekend at home. Winter is over for them.

Here in Chicago, however, we hold our breath and peer into the distance; looking for a sparkle of light through the darkness that is winter. Somewhere, far off, the sun is rising on summer but my God it is truly darkest just before dawn.

M.db

One at a Time

2008-02-20T22:57:00.002-06:00

What's my problem, I mean seriously. Why do I feel the need to multi-task everything. Not in an efficient way even, but more like a ridiculous "just calm down and do one thing at a time, MASON" way.

For the past few minutes I have felt like I really wanted some chapstick on my lips (I'm addicted to Burt's Bees and it's always in my pocket). So I reached into my pocket to get the ole' Bees out. No big deal to apply some, right? Sure, but I was peeing at the time. Sorry for the visual here but one hand was clearly occupied during this and I found myself standing at the toilette trying to not only fish the Burt's Bees from my pocket with one hand, but also remove the lid (using only two fingers), apply the chapstick one-handed and replace it back into my pocket. Finally I just threw it across the bathroom onto the counter out of frustration. Not frustrated that I couldn't accomplish the task but rather frustrated that I was actually trying to do those two things at once. "JUST WAIT!" I actually said outloud. Do it in like 2 minutes.. geeze.

Earlier today I was putting on my tennis shoes to go to the gym. I had one shoe on, half tied, when I noticed a pair of gloves on my kitchen counter next to me. I had been meaning to put them away all day long and kept forgetting. So what did I do? I thought to myself "I better do it now before I forget yet again." With one shoe on, half tied, I hopped into the bedroom with the gloves in one hand and the other shoe in my other hand. Why not just WAIT!! Why not finish putting your shoes on and then go take the gloves?

I often leave my place and head down the hall towards the elevator with my jacket not yet put on, keys, phone, gloves, scarf, wallet and sunglasses all in my arms and put the stuff on or in my pockets once I reach the elevator bank and have already pushed the down button. You see, somehow in my mind this is saving time because the 20 second period of time that I would typically just be idling waiting for the elevator to arrive, I can now make useful by finishing to dress. Most normal people, I assume, get themselves ready before they walk out the door. Keys in pocket. Glasses on face. Jacket on body, etc etc. Why can't I do that?

There's no need to consolidate time in this manner.

Chapstick can be put on after I flush the toilette.

I could wait until I'm done pouring the coffee into my cup and the pot is set down before I start pouring the creamer in AND opening a packet of Splenda all at the same time with my other free hand.

When I forget something in my condo upon leaving, I don't NEED to fling the door open and try to run into the bedroom and retrieve the forgotten item and get back to the front door before it closes again.

I'm the guy who washes his face in the shower with one hand and tries to shampoo his hair with the free hand.

Breathe! One at a time.

With all of this in mind you would THINK I'm super efficient in all areas of my world. I can't claim that though because being 100% efficient seems like a lot of effort. Rather, all I can claim is impatience.. even with myself.

I'm surprised I'm not vacuuming my bedroom at the same time as I write this.

Like I said, you'd think I was crazy organized and efficient judging from my odd need to multi-task everything I do, but I'm just too lazy to be as anal as my mind tries to make me. Instead I attempt to do everything at once when I have things to accomplish to save as much time as possible. That way there's extra hours in the day to sit on my ass, stare at the wall and drink a glass of wine. I guess it all comes out in the wash:)

G'night,
M.db

Cheers

2008-02-15T17:11:00.003-06:00

I complain often that in my neighborhood, up and down one street in particular, the only businesses lining the street are Asian restaurants and dry cleaners. At one intersection, no exaggerating, there are 4 dry cleaners. One on each corner. WTF is the need for that? Needless to say when I saw a new business going in about a block from my place I predicted it to be one of the following things: A dry cleaner (obviously), a Thai restaurant, a sushi restaurant, a Chinese restaurant.. and you get the picture. I love Asian food and I also appreciate a finely pressed dress shirt as well, but it was just time for a new kid on the block. There is no need for that much of one kind of thing.

MUCH to my surprise and happiness a little pub made its way into the space that was once occupied by a dry cleaner (not even joking). For a while they didn't even have the sign up that listed the bar's name. I proclaimed it would become my own personal "Cheers." I now have no less than 12 people calling it "Cheers," and it is in fact a place where everybody knows my name. Well, okay like 4 people who work there know my name.

Don't get me wrong I don't hang out in the bar all day like the characters from the 80's sitcom "Cheers," but I definitely don't hesitate to leave home about 15 minutes early for dinner plans, for example, to have a quick beer at Cheers and chat with the bartender for a bit. Everyone is always very friendly and the place has a more neighborhood feel than most seem to in this area. Plus, they play pretty good music. A couple of days ago I popped in for a quick beer before I headed to dinner and the bartender had a play list going that consisted of popular songs that were covered by Irish artists. All of the music was fairly mellow and acoustic sounding. I even asked the bartender what album the songs were from so I could come home and download some of them later. One song in particular had such great lyrics and I couldn't seem to place in my mind who originally sang the song. The vocalist was a male and the lyrics were so heartfelt and pretty. Finally it hit me. I had been mesmerized by a song originally sang by Britney Spears.

Oh well, it sounded damn good in the form of a Damien Rice-esque Irish acoustical performance. Who knew Britney Spears had a couple songs out there that could be covered by someone else and actually come across as serious?

I'm thoroughly enjoying the songs I downloaded and have put them on my iPod play list under the name "Cheers." They include such greats as Seven Nation Army, No Diggity, Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For and many more.

Enjoy your evening... and Cheers!
M.db

V.day

2008-02-14T15:25:00.003-06:00

No posting lately means I haven't felt very creative. boo.

Kimberly was in town for a job interview a couple of weeks ago and stayed with me which was awesome. February hasn't exactly been my month. Wahhh, woe is me, right? Nah, nothing terrible but it was so good to have a close old friend here within arms reach while considering how blah I've felt this month! Then, her outbound flight got canceled due to weather so we got a full extra day to hang out together that wasn't even planned! Thanks mother nature!

We've had such bad weather this winter, seems like it's constantly snowing and 4 degrees (which actually was the high the other day, for real).

A few days after Kimberly left, I popped over to NYC to visit lauren for the weekend. That was also a very fun and needed get together! 100% easy going chill-out time. We didn't do a single tourist thing, which was actually a request/demand of mine. All I wanted to do was do what we would if we lived in the same city. In case you're wondering what those things we would do if we lived in the same city are, here is a sampling: laugh, watch TV, drink and eat good food. We did all of those things. So much laughter. I came back to Chicago feeling very refreshed after K's trip to Chicago and my visit to NYC.

Today is Valentine's Day so ... happy whatever to ya. I actually am going to dinner with my friend Alissa and her parent's. Her mom and dad are in town to see a show downtown and have an evening on the town so they invited Alissa and myself to dinner before they hit up the theater. Very nice of them. 5pm romantic meal with my friend and her parents. Ha ha. But! Honestly I can't think of something I'd rather do, I love them and also pretty much love the restaurant we're going to so BOO-ya. Take that Valentines day!

What am I even talking about? Like I said, not a lot to report but I thought I'd throw the blog a bone. I'll be back with a good story in no time.

Happy V.Day,
M.db

Choices

2008-02-03T19:22:00.000-06:00

I always think it would be so awesome if as adults we could react to things the way children do. Simple and extremely emotional.

I was driving down the street the other day and saw a family walking along the sidewalk. The youngest child was practically flailing her body as she walked along and it was so obvious she was upset and frustrated. It's so great, as if all emotions are expressed physically and out loud.

As a kid, if you get frustrated, you stomp as you walk and scream as you speak. If a baby wants something, he will wail. I'd love to be able to do that. I was at Circuit City yesterday getting very impatient while they looked in the stock room for close to 30 minutes for one of the items I purchased. I started to feel the child in me trying to come out. I was sort of pacing the floor as the minutes passed, thiking about how they had JUST sold me something they SAID they had in stock and now I'm spending my WHOLE night at Circuit City! I wanted to flail my body while I paced along the floor and mumble things like "uuugghhhhh! iiii wannnnnntttt itttttttttt.. What's TAKING SO LOOOONNNNG."

In the end they didn't have the item they sold me. I was forced to go pick it up at another Circuit City a few miles away. I was irritated and thought to myself "wouldn't it be great if I could react like a child and just start screaming, kicking and crying at them?" I wanted to.

Speaking of kids, and it's been said before, but they really do "say the darndest things."
There's a lot of simplistic and conventional wisdom that can come out of a child's mind and subsequently out of their mouth. They don't even know they're making so much sense by saying something so straight forward.

Kimberly has two little boys who are, by the way, the most precious mini-humans I think I've ever encountered. Like most parents, she obviously reinforces certain things in their lives related to manners and behavior. One of the things she often says to both Luka and Jonah is "make good choices" in order to remind them to do or not to do certain things. I don't have a specific example for you but I imagine if one of them was misbehaving or acting up Kimberly might remind them that "we make good choices." She told me the other day that Luka was in a particularly upset mood and when she said "Luka, remember, we make GOOD choices.." he simply looked at her and replied "Mommy, I don't WANT good choices!"

Just one example of how a 3 year old can say something that is so basic yet easily describes how we, as adults, feel at times. Often I want to kick my feet and have a physical reaction to my distress, like a child might do. Other times I want to just scream in public out of frustration. Some situations make us want to just fall asleep for a nap in the middle of the day. And, as related to Luka, we often just don't WANT good choices in the face of certain situations. When the mood permits, I think Luka is right.. sometimes it's okay to just not WANT good choices.

Last night I didn't want good choices. I went to Circuit City, whipped out my Visa, and bought a new flat-screen TV for my bedroom, some surround sound speakers and a wall mount for the new flat-screen. I had no business spending the money on any of this stuff. After, as I described, they searched the back room for half of what they sold me yet didn't actually have in stock, I wanted to kick and scream rather than drive to another Circuit City to pick the purchases up.

And as I pulled into Circuit City number 2 I felt a bit guilty for the slightly irresponsible and spontaneous purchases I had just made. I unnecessarily spent money I don't have at the moment and that seemed like a 'bad choice.' But then I thought about Luka. I eased my buyer's remorse and said to myself as I parked the car: "whatever, I don't want good choices right now."

M.db

Kiwi

2008-01-31T16:58:00.001-06:00

I love kiwis. They are ever so tasty but unfortunately are also absolute whores when it comes to trying to actually eat them.

The kiwi must be one of the most complicated fruits to peel. You should see the mess and frustration that just occurred in my kitchen as I tried to strip and consume a kiwi. it took me close to 10 minutes just to get the thing to the edible point (after dropping it on the floor twice trying to peel it). There's kiwi juice on the floor, shavings from the peel on the counter and by this point is it even worth it? A kiwi is like the size of a golf ball. *chomp* it's gone. 10 min to prepare and 2 seconds to enjoy.

I bet if I was stranded on some deserted island it would be just my luck that the only food available was DELICIOUS kiwi's everywhere.. and then knowing me I'd be too damn lazy to deal with it and just starve to death.

M.db

Fright and Flight

2008-01-30T07:54:00.000-06:00

When life deals me lemons, I don't make lemonade. I make travel plans. I get my happy ass on AA.com and push some buttons with my debit card in one hand and a glass of syrah in the other until a booking confirmation email comes my way.

I have this habit/reaction to any extended stint of bad moods or unfortunate chains of events. That reaction is: "get me the fuck out of here." It's my own little version of fright and flight.

lauren always says "when life is bad to lauren, lauren is GOOD to lauren" and I agree with this theory. So speaking of lauren and me having a bad week, I went ahead and booked a ticket to visit her in NYC next Friday. Running from your problems can be fun if you've got somewhere cool to run to, right? JUST kidding. Of course I don't endorse running from things and that's not really what I'm doing. There's no "problems," either, it's just been a crap week and getting some friend time and some out-of-town time in a fun place is a refreshing way to take a step back for a moment. My friends are always welcoming like that, and I really appreciate it. A quick two day jaunt to the grande apple, a different backdrop for drinking and who knows maybe I'll buy something (like a NY license plate key chain that has my name on it. Yeah right, I can NEVER find souvenirs with "Mason" written on them!)

Three things that are annoying me:

Thing one: Last night it was about -10 degrees and the wind was gusting up to 50mph making the windchill approach -30. There is ice on the INSIDE of my balcony door and the temperature has climbed to a balmy -2. Brr.

Thing two: I woke up at 5:30 this morning and couldn't fall back asleep. 2nd night in a row I had early morning nightmares about being attacked by something/someone. screw that.

Thing three: Getting so tired of every time I tell someone I'm a Realtor these days they say "Ohhhhh how's that going" (in that.. "tone"). Or "bad market, huh?" or "must be a tough time for that."

SHUT. and. UP.

I'll tell you something, assholio, yes it's a slower market than it was 5 years ago but A.) that doesn't mean people don't still move, buy and sell. Real estate will always happen. B.) you know what probably ALWAYS is a "tough time?" Being in your retarded desk job from 9 to 5.

It is a slower market though, yes. And you can't blame a person for not having anything else to relate to you with regarding your job other than the doomsday stuff they hear on TV about foreclosures and all that biz. It's just that I would be pretty annoying if every time someone said they were a lawyer I said "oooh lots of people don't like you, huh?" or when a person tells me they're a CPA I responded with "pretty boring shit, huh?"

This post is stoopid.

Love,
M.db

Show Me Your Body

2008-01-26T16:43:00.001-06:00

We have all been Jennifer Aniston'ed.

At some point in life, everyone has been a Lance Bass (let's be honest we know it was him who got broken up with, not the other way around).

And in some form or fashion, each of us has played the part of the kid who got asked to prom, not knowing it was as a joke, and then waits in the living room fully dressed until 11pm.. just in case.

A call that never gets returned, a question that never gets answered, suddenly being blown off without a reason given. A date that never shows.

We have all been denied something we felt we deserved, only to look back and feel foolish for hoping.

I have this "produce the body" theory.. hear me out. Example: when victims of something awful like a terrorist attack die and there's no remains to even bury in the ground or a loved one simply vanishes but a body is never found, the family members have a difficult time properly grieving. We need a cause of death when things vanish from our lives or at least something concrete that shows it's really over and gone. Simply having something disappear isn't an appropriate explanation as to why it isn't tangible any longer. Human beings, by nature, need closure. If someone you had been with for years walked in one day and simply said "I am leaving, and I am not in love any longer" you'd want to 'produce a body' so to speak, and being refused an answer is the worst form of insult on top of injury. Being left in the dark is so frustrating and painful when you've already played the fool and now you're not even sure why.

Show me WHY. Show me what the cause of this death was, otherwise I can't wrap my mind around it being dead when I can't even physically see a wound. Like a person vanishing off the face of the earth with no sign of foul play.. only leaving you to grapple with your own imagination regarding what on earth went wrong and who (or what) was to blame.

When I was a child and my parent's would tuck me into bed at night I would be afraid to fall asleep with all the lights off. I made them leave the door cracked open just so I wouldn't be in complete darkness.

I am now 27 years old, and though I don't fear sleeping without a light on any longer, I can confidently say that I am still, though in other ways, petrified of being left in the dark.

M.db

Walt Disney Presents..

2008-01-17T17:51:00.000-06:00

If you happened to be driving down Diversey right near Pine Grove here in Chicago today at around 4:45pm today, you got a show. The main character of the show was me and the duration of the program was about 4 seconds.

I parked my car at a meter right in front of the store I was quickly popping into today on Diversey, still clad in my gym clothes and a light, and therefore not suitable for the snowy weather, jacket. I knew I was just going from the car to this store though, so no big deal. As I stepped out of my car the cold wind hit me so I locked my car and jogged around the front of it to reach the sidewalk.

You know that sort of slow jog you do when you're not RUNNING towards something, but it's just sort of, like in this instance, cold so you do a little mini-jog towards wherever you're going? Well that's what I was doing.... for a moment anyway.

As I jumped up onto the sidewalk from the street and turned to head to the front door of the shop, both of my feet, upon making contact with what I soon realized was solid ice, flew out from under me. Rather than turning slightly to my right, I took flight.

Oh to have the slow motion replay of that moment.. preferably with a close-up of my facial expression.

Flat on the ground, face down.

As if I didn't look sexy enough coming straight from the gym with a mis-matched outfit of blue Puma Pants, black shoes and a brown jacket. Now I got to draw a little more attention to myself as a line of no less than 15 cars waited at the stop light 3 feet from my landing pad and got to see my rendition of Disney's "Mason on Ice."

I laughed out loud.
I have a feeling others did too.
My pride.. well it cried, but I laughed.

M.db

Update

2008-01-13T19:13:00.000-06:00

About 10 days after the holidays coming to a close, I have an update.

The hoodie isn't tight anymore. 5 holiday pounds went away in about a week. That wasn't so hard! Why don't I always eat healthy and work out regularly? But now the downside is that my jeans feel a little loose which annoys me.

Moral of the story: I'm never satisfied.

M.db

Study Abroad in Chicago

2008-01-11T11:54:00.000-06:00

One of my brother's oldest friends called me a couple days ago. He and his wife are planning a trip to Chicago in the Spring to catch a Cubs game and have a little getaway. He wanted to touch base with me to get some advice on some of the other things they were planning on doing while in town.

I'm getting tired of people's fascination with the idea or concept of me living in Chicago, as if I'm colonizing Mars. Lauren and I have talked about this a lot as she obviously gets the same boggled fascination from people when she goes back home about her living in NYC. It's usually from people who I haven't spoken to in quite some time, friends of the family or relatives that aren't in touch often. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind if people are excited about where I live, or anxious to visit. What gets frustrating is when it appears MIND BLOWING to someone, like I live in some crazy different universe. "Wow! What's THAT like?!" I guess I get the same from Chicago people about being from Texas and going to college in Oklahoma. "What was THAT like" so I tell those folks at home that Chicago is like living in a WHOLE different world, a frozen one at that, where everyone has abortions on the street and they mug each other to fund the operation. And of course to the people here who are curious about my past I just let them know that we rode horses to school, shat in the backyard (I mean.. pasture) and filled our cereal bowl with milk straight out of the cow's teet.

Okay, I don't really go that far.

I've now lived here for three and a half years, though, and these same people ALWAYS ask the same questions.

So here's a couple questions I'm tired of hearing from people "back home" that I haven't spoken to in a while:

1.) "So.. you really like it up there, huh?"
Like it's REALLY hard to believe.

2.) "So.. think you'll ever move home and work for your dad?"
Yes, of course- that's the plan. I moved here, have already told you I like it here and love what I'm doing for a living.. but fuck this I'm out of here next month.

Really though, most of these people think it's great that I moved somewhere I wanted to live and are, in fairness, just excited about the idea of something that seems different. I guess my point is that NEITHER place is that different from the other fundamentally and it's sort of comical to think of it being such a BIG deal. It's just minor lifestyle changes that make both environments appealing in their own way.. and I think that's cool.

I suppose what irritates me is the constant questioning about moving home. This wasn't some place I moved to set up shop for a little while with the intention of heading straight back to my birthplace. My answer is always the same; that I don't ever want to say "never" about moving home, but that it's not on the radar and this is where I plan to stay. Do people think I'm studying abroad? This isn't a Semester at Sea, folks. I actually moved. I have things like a mortgage and a JOB.

Life always seems like steps towards the next accomplishment, and people around us help that along. People asking what you want to do when you get out of school and then once you're there (here in Chicago) they ask you when you're coming back.

As a kid you think often about growing up, where you're going to go to college and what you will "be" when you get big.

In high school you can't wait to leave your family's grasp and FINALLY be on your own.

In college, you have fun but stress about where you'll work and what internships you'll get. You look back at younger years and wish someone was doing your laundry and that things were being paid for.

In the work world, no one really takes you seriously until you're in your 30's so you frantically try to prove yourself and hurry to get older. All the while looking back wishing you were as carefree as you were in college (which, of course, is where you stressed your ass-off trying to get the heck out of there).

You reach your 30's and elders still think you're a "baby" in your career but somehow your age has made you certifiably legitimate in your career, in your mind anyway. You wish you were in your 20's and it's surprising your parents still worry about you like you are 15 and tell you to be careful often.

At 40, 30 seems young and you plan for the ways you'll retire. You begin to start stories with "I used to.. " and "when I was.." Still living in the past and looking to the future.

I guess my point is that we constantly HURRY to get to the next level and I worry I'll look back someday and wish I had just enjoyed where I was, at each point in my life that I was there. Others make that difficult sometimes by not taking you seriously. Taking you TOO seriously. Pushing you to get to the next phase. Reminding you you're not there yet. Oh and ,of course, by wondering when living in Chicago will wear on you to the point of moving back home.

Maybe when I'm 30, it will appear as though I know what I'm doing.
Maybe when I'm 40, I'll enjoy the fruits of my labor rather than worrying when the fruit will run out.
...and maybe when I've lived in Chicago for 20 years, people won't ask me "so.. do you think you'll ever move home and work for your dad?"

Signing off from colonial Mars,
M.db

Tooks Years Eve

2008-01-04T11:15:00.000-06:00

Lauren came to stay with me and spend New Years in Chicago. We did some tooling around the city, eating of Chicago style pizza and attempted to ice skate downtown. We then, as planned, spent the actual New Years Eve inside, which was a wonderful idea. Not only did we avoid the expense and chaos of an evening surrounded by drunk strangers, the weather turned into basically a white-out and getting drunk and crazy at home with a good friend was just what the bartender ordered.

Millenium Park, cold weather, warm friendship.

"The Bean" in Millenium Park or a scene from the 80's movie "Flight of the Navigator"... you decide.

Some Michigan Avenue shopping and Midwest Snow.

Public transportation photo-op.

We went ice skating!! Well, we almost did..until we got frost bite on our feet waiting through a 45 min. line in about 15 degree weather. But HEY, we gave it our best and coffee across the street seemed like a safer plan.

We avoided the mess of both the blizzard outside and New Years chaos in general by staying in, having fun and getting drunk.. and GO!

?!? First of several activities with the Christmas Tree that evening. Poor tree was included in the party against its will.

Blizzard outside? Sure, but we're having a New Years drink on the balcony come hell or high water (or high snow?)

What happens when two friends stay in for new years during a snow storm? Answer: Fun! Dance Dance.

lauren freakin' the Christmas tree

Mason and lauren BOTH freakin' the Christmas Tree.. the tree was scared.

New Years Eve happy-dance/jog around my living room. Action shot!

Our name is Tooks, and we like to DANNNNCCEE!

Happy New Year Y'all,
M.db

My Face Hurts (but yours is killing me)

2008-01-03T09:13:00.000-06:00

My parent's housekeeper either shrank my hoodie in the wash or I gained more weight over the holidays than I even thought. The only thing that leads me to believe it may be the washing machine's fault rather than my insatiable Christmas-time apetite's fault is that the hoodie also seems shorter than before it was washed at my parent's house. Shrinkage or fat gainage? You decide. I've made up my mind.. it's a combination.

I work mainly out of my home and therefore when I wake up, I'm AT the office already (special, huh). This also means that I don't typically rise-and-shine super early. If I do rise early I rarely do the "shine" part. Reason one, I don't often have to wakeup early. And reason two: I fucking hate waking up early. Well that and I really love sleeping. Today I woke at 5:30 with the pesky urge to urinate. When I returned to bed I couldn't fall back to sleep. After rolling around in bed with my thoughts for a while I decided to just rise, but not shine of course. The sun was taking care of the shine part, which seems rare lately. I looked out the window and thought it was a really bright UFO it looked so foreign in the sky. Damn winter.

So anyway, cinnamon rolls from Ann Sather seemed like a better plan than fighting my way back to slumber.

**side note: Am I surprised my hoodie feels tight!?**

I put some clothes on and walked down the road headed for my destination of tastiness . About 2 blocks into the trek I started to think this was a bad idea when a bank clock read that the current temperature was 0 degrees. No wonder my EYEBALLS hurt. Come to find out on the radio a few minutes later the wind chill was negative 10. I made it to my cinnamon rolls and my nose hairs thawed back out (that part isn't a joke, the inside of my nose became icey).

Now I'm chillin' at a coffee shop across the street from my breakfast. I figured I can get some work done from here without any of the distractions of my living room and let's be real- I'm scared to walk back home until it warms up (ie- JUNE). Since I have a few months before that happens I had some time to blog, so.. 'ello gov'na!

I bet I'm the only person in Caribou Coffee listening to Christian praise music on his headphones right now. I love a good inspirational Christian jam.

So with that, I bid you farewell.

"Shout to the Lord all the Earth let us sing.."
M.db

Long Commute

2007-12-21T16:40:00.001-06:00

I practically am commuting back and forth to Texas these days. Not really, but it sure seems like it having been here every 3-4 weeks for the past few months. I came down earlier than I expected to spend Christmas with the fam.

My thought process was to change my ticket because Chicago was supposed to get some questionable weather the day I was scheduled to depart. The last thing I wanted to do was spend 8 hours on the tarmac during a snow storm. Nothing much was going on with me in the coming few days so I just bumped the departure up. Perfect weather the day I left but of course I encounter mechanical delays. So the luck. You try to avoid weather delays but end up with mechanical ones. I get to O'Hare only to find out my plane is, in no exact words, broken. Always a pleasant feeling looking out the window of the airport at a plane being "fixed" that you're about to board. Kinda like.. "hope this works!" I always picture half-trained mechanics patching things together with duct tape and rope. The duct tape didn't do the trick apparently because we had to board a completely different plane after the airline scrambled to locate one for an hour. What a logistical nightmare that must be. World's second busiest airport and you're just trying to find another MD-80 layin' around that, for some reason, isn't being used already. I doubt it's as simple as "Ummm, let's see.. Marv would you pull around the silver one.. no not.. yeah that one. Yeah the one over in the back let's use the silver one" like the terminal ramp is a Hertz Rental or something. Must be a total mindfuck when the entire airline's scheduling goes awry because of a broken knob in a cockpit (or coffee maker for all I know..we were never told what the problem was).

I won't even get into the FULL detailed story of the verbal argument that the pilot had with a passenger in the first class cabin when we were halfway to San Antonio. Basically: the female captain came out of the cockpit to use the restroom and a dumbass passenger came up from coach to use the same bathroom. Not sure if you've ever seen the ordeal that goes on when a pilot comes out of the cockpit to use the lav, as most people barely notice and they keep it low key, but it's a protected endeavor to say the least. First, two flight attendants are called to the front, the aisle is blocked either by a door, a cart, or two crew members so that no one can reach the front of the plane easily while the cockpit door is being opened. Anyway, this circus did take place but ole' stupidface decided to mouth off to the pilot after she told him to please take a seat until she was safely back in the cockpit (FAA post 9/11 regulations, etc.). Apparently he didn't think that new rule applied to him and decided to yell at her, to the top of his lungs in front of everyone, that he "Aint no kind of THREAT, don't YELL at me! what do you want from me!" I popped my headphones out of my ears, thinking this would clearly be better than the movie I was watching on my laptop. And it was. Good plot, lively characters and definitely a climax. I already pictured Jodi Foster playing the pilot (you can see it) and .. I dunno, some fatass playing the, well, fatass passenger. The ending wasn't as exciting as me having to jump out of my seat and help take the guy down to the floor, but I unbuckled during the argument anyway just in case. They exchanged heated and louder words back and forth in their power struggle for a good while as everyone around got tense. It ended with the female pilot turning back around after she started to walk off and he tried to get the last word in under his breath. She walked back towards him with a glare on her face and a finger in his and said "EXCUSE ME?! You will SIT. DOWN. and you will BE. QUIET. right now.. do you HEAR ME SIR?! I said DO.. YOU.. HEAR ME?!" OOOOooOoooh it was fun. I was practically ringing my call button to have more Amstell Light and maybe a bag of popcorn brought over for the show.

I wasn't kidding about the unbuckling of my seat belt in case I needed to help throw down with the crew, I really did unbuckle. In a half "Crap.. here we go" and half "BRING IT ON!" sort of way. Ever since 9/11 I've been READY. I see someone making their way to the front of the plane for the potty and I don't care if they're 10 years old.. I'm keeping an eye on that Jr. Terrorist. Not like my 5 foot 10, 155 pound self would do a ton of damage but I'd happily take some rage out on a disgruntled passenger who was acting threatening towards a female crew member. This guy was only a biological terrorist, however, as he announced to everyone "I've got 'frickin' bronchitis, I just need to BLOW MY FRICKIN' NOSE. What's the PROBLEM!" at one point during their spat. Yeah, thanks, now you're projecting all of your germs into the re-circulated air we're breathing.

I buckled back up and tried not to breathe for the rest of the hour and a half we had to go so as not to catch his illness (or somehow catch his obesity and attitude, just in case those were contagious, too).

My friend Alissa told me the other day that when she received my Christmas card, she could tell who it was from even before she saw who signed it. Apparently, according to her, I write exactly the way I speak and when she's reading what I've written she can clearly hear my voice as if it's a conversation, not a card. She doesn't read my blog by the way. I asked her to explain but she said she couldn't really put her finger on it but when she reads something I've written it is exactly the way I would speak conversationally. I don't know why but I thought that was interesting. Moral of the story: If you read my blog but have never had a real conversation with me- they're interchangeable and you're all set, no need to attempt the chat. She said it was a compliment because each time I've written her a thank-you card or a Christmas greeting.. it always seems as though I'm talking directly to her and isn't cold. Her mom apparently read to her the Christmas/Thank You card I sent them and Alissa said she could hear me talking clearly through their card as well. I guess it's a good thing unless I should get so busy one day that I have to have a secretary write things for me. Then I'm screwed. "Wait a second.. this doesn't sound like Mason at all, there must be some mistake. WHO is this card REALLLYYYY from?!"

Busted.

Merry Christmas,
M.db

Open Letter

2007-12-17T16:18:00.000-06:00

Dear People who are in charge of paving roads in Chicago,

Please get to paving on Lake Shore Drive north of Irving Park cause I'm about to go out there and do it myself using super glue and the other limited craft utensils I own.

I was cruisin' down "The Drive" today and it was like playing a goddamned video game of "Dodge the giant canyon in the road" or "Try Not To Hit the Land Mines That Make Your Tires Blow and Sound Like You're Bottoming Your Car Out When You Go Over Them."

Although both of those games sound fun in electronic format, I can promise you that they're not fun at 55mph in real life format.

By the way, why do you only not give a fuck about the condition of the road north of Irving Park? South of there it's like driving on marshmallowie clouds of soft goodness. North of Irving, on the other hand, is stressful. I grew up in Texas and have driven gravel and dirt roads through MANY-a-ranch and those were like a brand-new thoroughfares in comparison.

Now, I realize that the roads in Chicago are terrible in large part due to our climate. 6 months of the year this city is about as tropical as a Donner Party trail ride through the Sierra Nevadas and then it can get hotter than the most demonic region of hell in the summer, but COME ON. What magical pavement are you using on the parts of the road that go through Lincoln Park, Gold Coast, etc?!

Tip: Use that same special pavement on the rest of Lake Shore Drive as well- it will make driving more fun. Darting back and forth to dodge chunks of pavement and aw-inspiring pot holes isn't fun OR safe.

PS- (not to you, road people, but to my readers) The number one way my blog is being found on accident via google searches these days is "Mom is a cheater" or "Cheating Mom" or some other variation of the phrase. The connection is being made because of a post I wrote a YEAR ago regarding the creepy Christmas song "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" wherein I discussed how that makes mom a cheater and Santa a skeeze, but I never received hits from that search phrase before now. Turns out there must have been a new porn flick in the past year about a naughhhttty cheating momma, cause it's gettin' Googled across the globe lately.

Sincerely,
M.db

But Baby There's Roofies In There..

2007-12-14T20:26:00.000-06:00

I'm in the Christmas spirit, listening to seasonal music and preparing for a holiday "party" I'm having tomorrow. I say "party" because I don't intend for it to be more rowdy than people eating stuff, drinking stuff and hanging out. We'll see how it goes and I'll let you know.

Speaking of Christmas, I was putting together a mix of songs for said party and sincerely enjoying catching up on all the old favorites of the season.

I actually quite like the song "Baby It's Cold Outside," vintage and cute. It was on in the background today, however, and I started laughing at one of the lines.

As I'm sure you're familiar with the song, its' a male and female bantering back and forth about whether she should stay longer at his (I assume) home after they've already had a nice evening together. For example, here's a snippit:

Man: But baby it's cold outside..
Woman: I've got to go away
Man: but baby it's cold outside..

and

Woman: my mother will start to worry..
Man: beautiful what's your hurry?
Woman: and father will be pacing the floor.
Man: listen to that fireplace roar..

You get the drift.

Okay so clearly he's trying to get her to bed-down with him in a very 1956 kinda way. As the song progresses she starts to give in to him because, after all, "no" meant "yes" in those days. Well that, and as he said, it's fucking cold outside. "maybe just a cigarette more.." she says and so on and so forth. Well my FAVORITE lines, that really cracked me up today, are:

Woman: the neighbors might think...
Man: but baby it's bad out there
Woman: say, what's in this drink? <--(please note)
Man: no cabs to be had out there..

He totally just ignores her question, which is fine, but hey what WAS in that drink? He totally just roofied her ass!

Say, what's in this drink? Whatever, who cares. CHEERS!
M.db

Breaking News (from like 27 hours ago)

2007-12-14T18:25:00.000-06:00

REEEEERRR-rrrrrr REEERRR-rrrrr

That's the sound a siren makes. It's not that unfamiliar to hear it outside in the distance here in Chicago. Actually (not lying) I hear one right now, faintly, as some ambulance hauls an old person to the hospital or something.

Yesterday, I heard one, then two, then like 18. I thought "oh somethin' good is happening out there!" So I looked out my living room window and saw THIS:

Oh no, my neighbors are on FIRE! Their building is an eye sore, but still it's on FIRE!

OOH now there's a helicopter!

Now there are THREE helicopters and it looks like they're involved in a syncronized swimming routine!

That means that this shit is probably on the news.. oh look it is:

And, finally, I counted 27 (from my vantage point) fire trucks surrounding the building (not 27 in this photo I'm sure):

From my condo I couldn't see the side of the building that was actually on fire, but the entire ordeal did create about 20 minutes of entertainment for me before I left for the gym yesterday afternoon. The action was still going on 4 hours later but I'm happy to report that, last I heard anyway, there were no injuries or deaths. Spectical, yes. Death, no.

I have this crackpot theory that Chicago has a fire curse. I mean the entire city DID burn to the ground a hundred (something) years ago. And I feel like there's a strangely high number of house, building, office fires in this city each year. It's like the curse keeps trying to get the city to go up in flames.. we just don't make buildings out of wood anymore so it's more difficult. God bless brick and steal.

And God bless you,
M.db

QuizNO

2007-12-11T21:00:00.000-06:00

I keep giving the Quizno's restaurant near my place of residence a chance. Have you ever had one of those places in your world that, after leaving each time, you ask yourself "why do I keep going there, I don't even like it.." Quizno's fails to impress me each time, yet once every few months I wander into the one by my building anyway.

Weird stuff always goes down at the Q-no's by me, too. Maybe the weird stuff can be attributed to the fact that the store is in the shape of the Bermuda Triangle!! Well, I guess, everything triangular is in the shape of the Bermuda Triangle, but still. It's a TRIANGLE-shaped store; that part is weird enough. It's at the corner of a few intersecting streets so the south end of the store literally comes to a tiny narrow POINT. Not much sittin' room over there in that corner.

Anyway, regardless of the reason for this establishment's weirdness, it's an odd experience whenever I visit. A few months ago I was about to finish paying for my meal and this guy came in the store and started talking right over my shoulder to the manager as if there was no one else in the room but the two of them. He looked like he was probably in the Mexican Mafia. It was hard to tell what the one-sided conversation was regarding but the Quizno's manager just nodded in silent agreement as the Mafiaman said things like "now I like you, I don't want to have to do this." and "you hear me man? I give you one more day man. One more day, look at me... one more day. We're cool my friend... but one more day." The manager looked scared and who knows what I looked like but I sure FELT scared. After all, I was the only thing blocking manager-boy from gunfire.

Mafioso walked out the door and I was handed my change as if nothing had happened. I was glad I got my order to-go.

And by the way the store employs only two people and two people only.. managerboy and his sister (I'm assuming) who speaks the same strange language as Manager. No idea why that's relevant information, I just want you to get the full picture here. Review: Triangle shaped tiny Quiznos, same two employees always, possible deal-gone-wrong situations happening with the Mexican Mafia, etc. Okay we can continue:

On my next visit I ordered a sandwich and the sister-girl forgot how to make it halfway through the process. She stood and stared at the sandwich in front of her for what seemed like 10 minutes as if maybe the bread was about to give her a hint about what she should do next. I was thinking "what... just happened or is ABOUT to happen?" Sisterkins was completely frozen, like she ran out of batteries or was passing gas. I was super uncomfortable and feeling like maybe having the customer stare at her would only make her more nervous I started pretending like I was picking out chips off the rack, looking at my cell phone and just generally acting as though I had not noticed she was in a state of rigamortis. I did sort of want to keep an eye on her though because clearly ANYTHING could happen between those two pieces of bread at that point as she obviously was about to start guessing what ingredients to throw in there. For all I knew I was about to get a Broccoli Cheddar Soup Sandwich with pickles. She pulled it off in the end *whew" but still a weird experience. After she rang me up and I got my soda she asked "you need more napkins?!" Um.. do I look like I need more napkins before I've even started eating?

Another time when I was enjoying a fine dining experience at this Quizno's the manager man returned to the store from, somewhere. He had left sissy to run the store while he was away apparently. He came in with another person, a friend I guess, and they were both speaking their special language that I neither understand nor have ever heard before in my life. They both walked through the front door together but Manager headed back behind the counter while his friend stayed by the entrance, turned around facing the front door, reached up and began to rub a horseshoe that was nailed to the wall above the front door. He rubbed it with his right hand probably about 15 strokes worth. He then said something else in Pig Latin (or whatever) and walked out. I looked around at other people in the restaurant to see if anyone else A.) saw this and B.) thought it was as funny as I did. Obviously just a little superstition happening there, which is no big deal, but still a peculiar thing to witness.

They do offer you free chips and a drink if you bring your receipt back on your next visit, so that's cool. I never save my receipt but I still appreciate the offer.

MMM MM MMMM MMM MMM TOASTY!,
M.db

The V.I.P. room at 35k FT

2007-12-05T16:58:00.000-06:00

I came home a few days ago from a great trip home for Thanksgiving. A longer than expected trip.

The weekend following Thanksgiving, my alma mater (Univ. of Oklahoma) won their final football game of the season thus sending them to the Big12 championship. The game was being held at the Alamodome in San Antonio the next weekend. I couldn't turn down my parents offer to take me to the game if they found tickets. They found tickets. So I returned to Chicago a week later than anticipated but who would complain. I had a really good time with the mom and dad.

(me @ the Big12 championship, being very proud to sport my school colors)

My flight back to Chicago was less than half full, which I loved. It's so great to spread out on a whole row to yourself. My i-pod had it's VERY own seat next to me and my laptop got to use the tray table to my right to sit on for my movie viewing pleasure. It's also nice to have my own row because I like to sit in the window seat but I hate to make two people beside me get up so I can use the bathroom during the flight. Nooooo problem on this trip. No one even lining up to use the lavatory either.

When I fly, I always have to piss. Doesn't matter how short or long the flight is, it's like clockwork. Once above 10,000 feet I am permitted to use my approved portable electronic devices AND I simply must also use the toilette. *ding*

It's like going into a private little oasis once you're in a bathroom lav. Granted it's an oasis that smells like urine and weirdly bad air freshener, but still it's sometimes better than being elbow to elbow with a guy that looks like Mike Ditka and a woman that smells like cats. Every time I close the lavatory door behind me and lock it, I get that *WHEW* feeling, like I just left the paparazzi outside and I've hidden from the public eye. I can now do WHATEVER I want.. for like 2 minutes or else it starts to look weird. All I do, of course, is pee, but it's still like you're in a private little V.I.P. box for a moment. No one can see me! I'm not buckled up! Weeeee!

And let me tell you something I've noticed: I look GOOD in airplane bathroom lighting. I don't know what it is about that gentle glow, but when I finish my bizuss and turn towards the mirror I always think to myself "did I look like this when we took off??" The answer is probably no. Anyone who knows me will realize I don't typically look in the mirror and say "duh-ammn you are fine." On the contrary I'm sort of difficult on myself, so it's obviously something about the lighting in there. I look pleasantly sun kissed, my hair looks all purdy, my complexion is suddenly flawless. Who are YOU all of a sudden and do you wanna join the mile-high club? Oh it's just a reflexion.

What IS this alternate universe? Then BAM you unlock the door and step back into reality and I look like the haggard traveler again, headed for my seat next to Cat Woman and Ditka. I feel like saying to the people at the front of the plane "Hey you should have SEEN me in there! I. Looked. Awesome." They wouldn't believe me. Luckily though, no one was next to me on this plane so no talking had to happen at all.

I sometimes think, in a very Twilight Zone way, how freaky it would be if you came out of the plane's bathroom and you were suddenly on a different plane than you were on when you entered the bathroom. Like; on an American Airlines flight bound for Dallas, you go into the bathroom, and when you come out you're suddenly on a completely different plane headed God knows where.

"this.. wasn't.. the way the plane looked before I went in there.."

And then you'd be all embarrassed to ask someone where the plane was heading because they'd think you were CRAZY. "Duh, we're going to Jakarta.." And FURTHERMORE, where would you sit in this scenario?! Everyone would notice that suddenly there's a new guy next to them. "Hey! Where'd you come from!?" Just something to think about in case it ever happens to you.

(bye bye Texas)

Well anyway, that's all I got. Quit trying to make Amy Winehouse go to rehab, she already said no like THREE times.

G'night!
M.db

How YOU doin? (on lotion..)

2007-12-05T16:41:00.000-06:00

So I fake 'n Bake. K? I do. Maybe once a month. I know it's bad for you, but I do it anyway so don't lecture me or I'll nit-pick your ass apart on all the bad things you do:)

Anyway, in case you're not aware I'm blond haired and blue eyed. Oh, and fair skinned. If I, in the winter for example when there's less outside time, don't hit up a tanning place every so often I become blond haired, blue eyed and TRANSLUCENT skinned. Where's Mason? Oh.. there he is, he blended in with that white wall.

Anyway, so I went in today for a quick zap and after giving my name to her, the girl behind the counter asked what EVERY employee asks me when I go there: "how you doin' on lotion?" My answer is always "fine." I think there's a prompt on the computer screen when they enter my name that shows I haven't purchased tanning lotion in for-ev-er because they ask every time. I guarantee you that they get kickbacks for selling the stuff because they push it like it's their job (and clearly it IS their job, so no harm).

This time, tanning-girl went a step further and started a line of questions about my current lotion (which, by the way, I rarely put on before I go, hence I never run out). She started with "what kind do you have?" and I said "I dunno, the one in the colorful bottle with the gold cap??" Then she says, unconvincingly, "Ooooh yeah, I think I know the one you're talking about.. anyway, have you had it long?" Clearly she's already seen on the computer screen I probably have. "Yeah, a while" I said. She goes in for the up-sale by informing me "well, you know once you get about halfway through a bottle your skin actually becomes immune to the lotion and it loses its effectiveness."

I stared at her straight-faced, obviously seeing holes in the theory, and said ".. well I guess next time I'll buy a bottle HALF the size of the one I've got now, and problem solved!" She giggled a tad and then her face looked like a dog who just heard a funny noise in the distance and handed me a towel.

I mean WHAT is that claim? So basically.. if you have a 12 ounce bottle of lotion, when you get to 6 ounces (half the bottle) your body is immune? What if you have a 6 ounce bottle, will you still be immune after you use 3 ounces and therefore half the bottle? BAD sales technique, chica.

I'm so tired of people trying to get people to buy things they don't need by using terrible tactics.

Oh well, I'm tan.
M.db

Happy 4th Birthday Blog!

2007-11-23T15:13:00.001-06:00

11/28 marks Mason Against the World's fourth birthday.
In lieu of gifts, please make a donation to the Mason Against the World fund (which benefits Mason - it's a good cause).

I started blogging 4 years ago when I was home for Thanksgiving and here I sit.. home for thanksgiving posting a blog.

I'm thankful for so many things, including the blog of course. I'm working hard at being thankful for my extended family who, currently, is attempting to drive me FUCKING CRAZY.

No one said it was easy when there was more than just your immediate family around- chaos ensues. If it was just myself, mom and dad it would be pretty chill. Add 6 others and it becomes a constant "Mas, would you get me the..." and "Hey Mas, would you mind .." "Mas, have you seen the dog.." SHUT. UP. I. JUST. SAT. DOWN.
Jk. I love them. They are indeed trying drive me to drinking, but that's not a problem scenario I'd complain about so God bless 'em.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone. In 100% all honesty, I have so much to be thankful for that I'd never be able to even embark on a reasonable sized list and therefore I'll keep it between me and God when I say the "thank you for.." section of my prayers at night.

May we all be mindful of how blessed we are on this day and as often as possible throughout the year.

Enjoy the day, Happy Thanksgiving (and happy birthday blog),
M.db

Drink Up!

2007-11-13T17:29:00.000-06:00

This business of the sun setting at 4:30pm catches me off gaurd EVERY year. It's not a new concept- happens each time we set our clocks back in the fall, yet it never ceases to confuse me. I find myself shuttin' the day's activities down at around 3:45 when it looks dusk. My body tells me to eat (well it always tells me to eat, who am I kidding)dinner at about 5:15pm like I'm 68 years old. Some evenings I settle into the couch with PJs on at about 6:30pm as if it was about to be bed time. I'll glance up at the clock and think "what the HELL is going on here?" It ammuses me that it still catches me off gaurd like it's a new phenomena.

A highlight of my day: Reading an article Kevin sent me that discussed the benefits of red wine on your health. We've all heard that a glass of wine is apparently good for you, but this was a detailed account of what wine can protect against, prevent and the amount of wine per day that studies have shown a person should drink in order to reap these rewards. TWO glasses a day for a man and one a day for a woman. TWO GLASSES A DAY!

Here I was thinking that it might be shameful to drink a couple glasses of wine during the week while I watch TV at home... by myself. Who knew it was warding off more than my seasonal affective disorder! Just kidding, but rock-on that red wine is good for me and not just in half-a-glass doses.

I'm waiting for a study to come out that proves the benefits of combining and subsequently consuming a mixture of vodka and tonic water (with a lime wedge). Then I'll be SET!

Cheers (to your health)
M.db

Build-A-Bear

2007-11-04T13:28:00.000-06:00

"Build-A-Bear"
I love this store's concept.

Your kid gets to come in, pick out all the stuffings and fixins for their ideal teddy bear.. and then MAKE it themselves.

So let me get this straight. Children... do all the labor involved in a specific textile-like product.
Yeah that's called a "sweatshop" using "child labor."

More power to the creators of the Build-A-Bear stores. They get cheap (free actually) sweatshop labor.. and then we pay THEM to allow us that priveledge.

There are some kids in a third world country saying: "suckers, at least over here WE are the ones that get paid 10 cents a week making your toys."

Oh it's funny to me.
M.db

Rock me Gently

2007-11-04T12:21:00.000-06:00

So I say it all too often- I personify everything. Especially animals.

It is, therefore, no surprise that the following commercial cracked my shit up. Watch for two things in it.

Thing 1: The fact that the squirrel continues to use his hands as he sings.
Thing 2: The driver's face when the wolf eats the bird.. giving him a "WTF was that for?!" look.

Oh, this commercial makes me happy.

M.db

Advice

2007-11-03T11:09:00.000-05:00

Don't ever put your contacts in when there's accidentally chap stick on your finger somehow.

M.db

Proud Sponsor of Cheesewadness

2007-11-02T18:32:00.000-05:00

You know those times when you make the HORRIBLE pun or the rediculous joke and you know it's too cheese but the opportunity is good so you have to? Sort of the way Michael on The Office always says "that's what she said.." after a remark that could be turned sexual in nature. It's funny cause it's terrible.

I was folding my laundry and half-listening to the TV that was on in the background in the laundry room. This commercial came on for TransAmerica Mutual (I think, but don't quote me on that) and the subject of the ad was a pro golfer. Don't remember who, was busy folding my un-mentionables. We'll call the golfer "John Johnson." Anyway, I only caught the last line of the heart-string-tugging cheesewad commercial.

And I quote: "TransAmerica.. proud supporter of John Johnson... and DREAMS."

Proud supporter of DREAMS!? Really? Oh that is rich. Rich and awful. I busted out laughing. You can think tag-lines like that in your head but you should never say them or let them leave the confrence room at the agency.

I'm so glad that TransAmerica sponsors dreams.
M.db

Makie Outie

2007-10-29T18:35:00.000-05:00

I was on the el today transporting myself back home from being downtown where I had been running some errands. It was super crowded so we were all jammed in there like a game of "guess how many humans in the train car and you win a prize." (?? I don't know either). Anyway, there was this couple standing up next to me and the guy had his arms around the girl and I thought to myself "awh how cute." They were a very adorable young couple and then I saw the guy had a hair lip. :( So sad. My mind started to wander and I started thinking about how they first got set up together.. maybe by a friend who said "he's SO sweet and really really cute.. there's just one thing.."

Or maybe she met him on her own, in class perhaps (they looked young, maybe 19). She fell for him, they started hanging out together outside of their study group one thing let to another. Later she'd tell her friends about the new guy add have the conversation about the lip. "there's just one thing, Becky, and I know this sounds weird.. but it's not even that noticeable.."

It started to make me sad. They were a cute little couple and he can't help his hair lip. Then I thought about them making out. Maybe he can get it fixed someday? It probably sucks because you think that's what everyone is looking at when they meet you. In fairness it really WASN'T a terrible one. Poor hair lip kid. I wish them well.

Unfortunately for me, during the rest of the train ride home I started thinking about everyone I saw, both male and female, and what it would be like to make out with them. I didn't, of course, think about making out with the "normal" looking people, no. Instead I only pictured what it would be like to kiss the really gross ones, or the old people with wrinkly faces and lazy chins. It was almost like a game of "Would You Rather" with myself. Would I rather make out with Old Scary Chapped Lips or Unkempt-looking Sleeping Lady with the bad hat? Next I transitioned into playing a game that I play in my head often. I look around me when I'm in crowded places and think "someone has had sex with THAT person.. and THAT person, too.. oh and THEM!" Again, I think this only when I see scary-looking people. In a sort of "they're scary, but odds are that SOMEONE has totally had sex with them."

None of this probably makes sense to a sane mind and I promise I don't mean it in a terrible or rude judging way. It's fun though, passes the time. The next time you're in an elevator, sitting on a crowded plane or standing in line at the grocery store maybe some huge guy with bad skin will be right next to you. Perhaps a lady with missing teeth and bad breath will start talking to you. You'll think in your head "wow, that's not pleasant.." and then suddenly you say to yourself "odds are, someone has totally had sex with them.."

You're welcome for giving you a new game to play.

Someone was probably on the train looking at me, judging me, thinking about making out with me.. it would serve me right.

M.db

Toot

2007-10-28T21:10:00.000-05:00

I hate when I'm with a client and they fart.

trapped in an open house, possibly a condo.

no escape.
M.db

Stop Looking at me, 10F

2007-10-26T17:23:00.000-05:00

On flight 484 back to Chicago from San Antonio. Clearly this post will be published to the web after I land. They need to have Internet access on ALL planes. It's 2007, nearly 2008. We've clearly mastered flight and a lot of other things, too. Let's work on Internet happening on planes.

This is officially the first non-packed flight I think I've been on in years. I always wonder when I fly how on earth the airlines are struggling financially when they're always so crowded. Granted, I know there's much more to it like fuel costs, unions, inflation and so on but MAN they're always full! Okay, so anyway this one isn't and it's such a nice feeling. A whole row to myself and less people to fight my way through to get out of here when we land. And, being the forward thinker that I am, I also realize it means less people to step over on my way to the nearest exit, or hole in the plane, should we go down (just kidding *knock on tray table* {no wood insight}). I seriously shouldn't have watched that show last night on the Discovery Channel about an airline crash investigation. I now possess the knowledge that if those oxygen masks come down they are only equipped to provide about 12 minutes worth of air to you, enough time for the captain to get the plane down to a breathing altitude. ONE MORE THING TO WORRY ABOUT! Now, as if I wouldn't be scared enough if the damn thing becomes necessary, I will also be monitoring my watch counting down the minutes until permanent sleepy time.

Oh yay, my vodka and tonic just arrived. I enjoy drinking on planes for a few reasons.

Reason 1: I find that the time goes by faster when I'm drinking no matter where I am. If that's true, which it is, then why not make a boring plane ride go by faster?

Reason 2: I'm not a fearful flier but taking the edge off with a drinkie-drink makes me not only less fearful than I already am.. but basically fearLESS! BRING IT ON turbulence, bring.it.on.

Reason 3: And I'm told this is a fact; altitude (such as the 27,000 feet that the captain just informed us is the altitude we reached) makes you tipsy faster. Who would argue that's not fun? A loser, that's who. But seriously, put me in a state of quasi-euphoria and I won't mind as much that I'm sitting in one tiny seat for almost 3 hours, surrounded by strangers and their germs, and hurdling through the air in a tube that was constructed and maintained by dudes with their name embroidered on their shirt.

So I did something naughty shortly after take-off. No, it's not what you're thinking- I did not join the Mile High Club. More like the 11,000 foot club! Okay, no I didn't even join the 11k foot club. Since there is no one around me (recall that it's a fairly empty flight) I realized no one would judge me if I pulled out my cell phone and turned-it-the-fuck-on. I know you're not supposed to have your cell phone on EVER during a flight but I HAD to. After we took off, we banked to the right (northward) and passed not only over my parents new area of town but also over their actual house - in plain sight. I whipped my phone out and text messaged my mom:

"I'm flying over the house right now!! Nothing is wrong, bye! I saw the house!!"

Remember, she's a mom, so I had to say "nothing is wrong" or she would immediately assume I was text messaging her from the air because we were headed for peril. 9/11 really fucked up a lot of our good-times didn't it? Anyway, my mom and I had just talked about how if my flight were to take off on Runway 30R (per the current wind direction) and then head north I might fly RIGHT over their house. My mom and I are both aviation/airline nerds. Her being a former flight attendant in the 70's and me being.. well just a fucking nerd.

Speaking of my parents house, it was one of the main reasons I flew home to Texas this past week. I came to celebrate my birthday with my family and to see the new house that they literally just moved into after being in the building process for almost 2 years. Though they have now fully moved in, there is no landscaping and constantly things to be tweaked every day. Because things are still being completed daily it still feels a bit unsettled and after 3 weeks already of this constant "almost there" feeling it is understandable how physically and mentally exhausted both of my parents were during this visit home. My mother hand-picked every detail of the interior, painstakingly, and I can honestly say it is one of the most gorgeous and well put together homes I have ever stepped foot in. My parents have truly been blessed and as I see how they constantly bless others immensley I'm happy to see the universe return the favor in their lives.

The girl in 10F keeps thinking I'm staring at her. I'm not. We made eye contact once on accident and now each time I look in that direction it's awkward.

(Chicago, as seen from seat 9A, welcoming me home)

M.db

Thank You, Come Again

2007-10-24T15:59:00.001-05:00

Okay, had to. Had to slideshow our pictures and put them to a cheesewad theme song.
BUT after twelve years of friendship we finally at least have more than 2 photos together..
Granted almost all of the pictures are from only one of the days that you were here (our "SundayFunday" of midday drinking) but SO fun anyway!

Thank you for coming to see me, I love you!

I present to you; your visit to see me in Chicago...

M.db

From Either Party's Side

2007-10-15T08:39:00.001-05:00

Not learning from life is like running in place, physically moving but never physically moving to anywhere.

No matter what side you take or what angle you look at a situation from- you can learn from it. You can learn from people who do things that you think are very wrong in observing the consequences of that wrong. You can learn from the things people do that are very right by watching the effects of their correctness and how it impacts you and those around you.

And now, as quoted from an awesomely bad guilty-pleasure of a 70's tune by Nzareth, I give you your daily dose of wisdom.. with a side of cheese:

"I'm young, I know, but even so
I know a thing,
or two.
I learned from you.
I really learned a lot,
really learned a lot.
Love is like a flame,
it burns you when it's hot."

For better or worse, I did indeed learn. From both that which was wonderful and that which was trying.

May every situation help me grow, learn something about myself and others, and hopefully prepare me for what is next. Equipped with new knowledge of what to expect, experience to know what to do differently (or do exactly the same), and the ability to raise the standard of what I require from myself and from others in this life.

G'night,
M.db

A Change of Season

2007-10-09T16:36:00.000-05:00

I don't think it will ever stop amazing me the way people come into our lives. The flukes that lead us to those who end up impacting us beyond compare.

My friend Brian and I have talked about the idea of people entering your life at key times, whether it's somehow divinely planned or not, and how the relationship would have been different or not have happened at all if the timing hadn't been the way it was. He and I, for example, crossed paths by chance and our bond was formed rapidly due largely to circumstances at hand. Was that supposed to happen? I didn't realize I was being the supporter that he claims I was acting as. If it's true, that I was a support system to him, the favor has long since been repaid as I've countlessly relied on his kind ear and rational perspective on hundreds of situations from the smallest issue to the things that seem earth shattering at that moment. Always reminding me that no fear, no concern, no hurt and no sadness is not justified because it's too "small" if it's truly something that is of importance to me. I'm forever grateful.

Kimberly has told me that I entered her life at a time when she needed my friendship most. At the time she didn't know she needed that role filled and obviously didn't realize she would become one of my closest relationships and supporters. I largely owe my leap to move to Chicago and being comfortable in my own skin to her love and encouragement; always reminding me not to be so hard on myself, showing me that I CAN do it and refreshing my memory when I forget that I'm loved, capable of doing and needed all at the same time. I, in turn, never knew I was in need of that role being filled in MY life when our friendship started. What would I be missing if our lives had never collided? She is, to me, a personification of the phrase "that's what friends are for" (and now you all can have that 80's song stuck in your head, to boot. You're welcome!).

Arin and I stumbled into our friendship by chance. Both of us 3 months into living in Chicago for the first time, alone, knowing not a soul. We happened upon each other by attending some silly get-together at the apartment building we both had just settled into as our new home. We've later compared notes on how neither of us wanted to come to the get-together and how both of us almost didn't. Living 12 floors apart in a huge building, we would never have met otherwise. I think in the two years I lived in that building I never saw her once without having planned to run into her which leads me to believe if we hadn't been at that right place at the right time, I would never have met one of my best friends, biggest supporters and yet another example of someone that is in my life for a lifetime. What would I do without my unofficial therapist named Arin? A friend who, like all my true friends, never judges me but also wouldn't hesitate to steer me in the right direction if necessary. A rational voice, a beautiful soul and a lifetime importance to me.

Tooks (aka lauren). Where to even begin about this vital importance? As if it's not ever-clear through countless postings even here on my blog relating to our bond, I shall mention it again. Both looking for the same classroom at at the same time, the year was 2001. Again, chance. 45 seconds earlier or half a minute later and we may have never spoken. Did we have ANY clue we'd be through this much together on that first day of that class at the University of Oklahoma? Experiencing a few of the darkest times and some of the brightest moments of the past 6 years, together. And guess what? We're only just getting started. Again, as with all my close friends, a pillar. One phone call and I've got an extra person sending a prayer up in my honor, and vice versa. Truly one of the quickest and smartest wits I've ever come across, I practically feel as though I am a graduate of the school of lauren when it comes to humor. We play off each other so well that it's not even funny (but, the funny thing is, it IS funny. Funny, huh?). Of course, even deeper than the laughs is the connection of true love for another human being. We've got each other's back. She sharpens my humor and keeps me reminded that I'm cared for, constantly. We'd bail each other out of jail if needed yet probably not notice any time had passed if we happened to have been locked up together. A padded cell, we've often joked, could hold us captive for days and we'd be confused when someone came to liberate us because we'd be in there having a blast together.

Then there's Kevin, popping into my Chicago life only two years ago and quickly becoming someone I know I could rely on for absolutely anything. The same is offered back his direction and hopefully it's known. Another example of a rational supporter, a companion to have an absolute blast with and still be able to give me perspective during a time of confusion. In the scheme of a lifetime, which is how long I know this friendship will last, we're just getting underway. Stay tuned, there's more to come. A lifer. A genuine. So much more to come.

Wow, I didn't start this post with the intention to of naming off my friends in order of importance (by the way, they're not listed in any order) nor to give a shout out to anyone. I sort of hate the idea of mentioning or failing to mention friends, because some people get written of often here and some not, yet all the people in my life.. these and many others, fill such important rolls. I simply am overwhelmed when I think of how lucky I am to have these individuals. There are countless others in my world that provide me with amazing love, support and guidance as well.

And tomorrow one of my oldest and best-est friends will come to Chicago to visit me. Jazmin came into my life at the beginning of one of the hardest and most lonely-feeling times of my young adult life in 1996. We were both just 15 years old. Jazmin was new to the school and we were placed into the same group in science class for a project coincidentally; Our lives have never been the same. I didn't know she was there for a reason, but I'm convinced of that fact now. At a time when I had lost faith, enter the first person in my life to truly make me believe "it doesn't matter what everyone else says or thinks." By the time you're 15, you've been told that nugget of wisdom about 2 billion times by countless adults, but Jazmin was the first person to not only put it into practice but practice what she was preaching. God bless the day that a truly non-judging and fully genuine person like Jazmin stepped into my life. As my family's world started to crumble horrifically in the public spotlight with hundreds of of onlookers watching it fall apart (and even catching it on the evening news), this person steps in, as if out of nowhere, to say "I don't buy it, and fuck what everyone else thinks about it." The truth eventually reigned supreme in the situation and I know one of the only reasons I came through months of gut wrenching difficulty with my sanity still in tact is because of this true friend. I wonder, to this day, if she knows what that did for me. That was the launching pad for a beautiful friendship of support, loyalty and love but was only the beginning. In the past 11 years we have shared thousands of other important moments together. Jazmin and I haven't lived in the same place for the longest time, but we have never felt far from each other. I'd never be judged and neither would she. She is the definition of loyalty and through the hardest times and the breeziest moments will always be literally invaluable to me. I can't wait to laugh with you again in person in less than twenty four hours! What if I had been put in a different group for that project? I'd never have this solid rock in my life and yet would maybe not know how terribly much I was missing.

Would I feel a void without these people around? Naturally my first reaction to that question is "heck yeah," but would I even know the difference? Oh THANK GOD for circumstance, for being at THOSE places at the right time. Those places where I ran into some of the most important people in the world outside of my family. People say friends are the family you choose for yourself. These people certainly are my family if even not biologically. In some ways I can't say I chose them, as each was thrust upon me without my knowing what would transpire. I only chose to keep them around and of course hang on as tight as I can. If it's chance, if it's fate or if it's a cluster-fuck of happenstance where two people accidentally are in the same room- I'm so lucky.

Even now as I push through a sad situation that really can only be rated as "moderate" on the scale of difficulty in the scheme of life's issues, I'm reminded of how important these people are in my life. I hope to God I can repay the favor by being even half as wonderful, understanding and supportive as they are to me- each in their special way. And as a season in my life may be coming to a close right now I am being shown that some of the people who are supposed to be closest to us don't really know much about us at all and realizing that's probably the very reason that those seasonal relationships fade. More importantly, however, I am being reminded that I am blessed with the examples listed above who do know. Who are there. Who will stay.

I could be the only person for a thousand miles.
in every direction the compass knows.
and yet,
I. will. never. be. alone.

Thank you,
M.db

Just Some Things

2007-09-25T20:34:00.001-05:00

It's been a while since I had a free-form rant. Buckle up.

Let's talk about some things that have been buggin' me or are just generally on my mind as of late. I am not (at all) saying I'm not guilty of letting the following annoyances slip out of my mouth but they are getting old to my ears, none the less:

People who call their home their "humble abode." SHHH. shut up.

People who bring a present and say "I come bearing gifts!" SHHH!

People who incorrectly use the word "ate." ie: "I'm starving, I haven't ATE all day!"
No. Quit raping my ears.

People asking me why I don't have a Texas accent when I tell them where I'm from. Yep, it's crazy, I left my horse back in San Antonio, too!

Here are some other annoyances:

Politicians.

Groups of six mothers who dine at Panera Bread Company with their toddlers, that are all roughly the same age throwing Cheerios across the restaurant. Your child's chaos is enough without bringing your friend's chaos-causing beasts into my lunch environment with you as well, taking up an entire section of the restaurant, and making everyone feel like they are eating at at daycare center. It's not cute and no one cares.

America Ferrera and the show she stars in; "Ugly Betty."
A.) Why is everyone so amazed at her transformation into her "ugly" character on the show? She looks the same to me, just with glasses and fake braces. Sorry, she seems lovely, but not a HUGE stretch from character to real life in my opinion.
B.) The show is NOT endearing after one episode. Why? Because she works at a fashion magazine and her struggle is how unfortunate looking she is while working in such a beauty-driven industry. So ironic. Okay, we get it. Well, you're surrounded by it and reminded of it everyday, so do something about it or shut the hell up. You're not anyone's hero, Betty, and here's why: because your "problems" are fixable via a straightening iron, Invisi-Line braces and contact lenses. Show me a cripple working for the Olympics (and not even the Special Olympics) and then we'll discuss if I'm interested in watching. The answer is probably still "no," for the record.

White women who suddenly turn on the black-woman-speak at free will. "So there I was in the store and I thought to myself 'GURRRRLLL, I KNOW you did-unt just cut in line, oh-kayyy." You're white. Own it.

Britney Spears. It was an interesting train wreck to watch at first (and second and third and fourth) but now it's just annoying. You're a fucking mess, you've proven your point. Britney; die or just get a grip but pick one and let's get on with it, I'm tired of you.

.. and that's pretty much all. I'm not really bitter about these things but it's sure fun to mention.

One more thing, though. This morning my radio alarm clock woke me up (after it played about 5 songs). It was set on the oldies station and I sat through no less than three songs about teenagers...

How creepy is it that so many "oldies" seem to be about teenagers? Teen Angel, "You're sixteen, you're beautiful, and you're mine," and so on. Did people really peak at 17? Was life really that deep at such a young age in the 50's and 60's?? Full of such TRUE love and deep devotion. Were the singers and songwriters of these tunes teens as well or, even more scary, were they adults singing ABOUT teenagers?! All I know is that at 16 I wasn't finding true love or reaching my utmost maturity. I wasn't mourning the loss of my true companion who died in a stalled car on the train tracks or any other monumental life event. I was slightly awkward, a little over-weight and hoping to pass driver's education.

Oh, and politicians.
M.db

Ups.Downs.

2007-09-16T20:31:00.000-05:00

Some people want you down when they're low;
"Because *I* am crying, you must join me down here"

When you're the one down they wont care to hear your woes;
"I'm feeling happy so don't you dare buzz-kill *MY* cheer"

But may we all be blessed with the true type of friends;
"Through the good and the bad, beside YOU is where I will be."

And may I never become one who proclaims through his actions
"it's all.. about.. ME"

M.db