This little piggy went to the market

What Your Feet Say About You:

You are pretty average in your expressiveness. You can express yourself well, but you don't always want to. You are a somewhat passionate person. A few things get you very fired up, but you're usually pretty laid back. You are an assertive person at times. You'll pull out all the stops to get what you want, if it's worth it. You take a while to fall in love, but once you do, you stay pretty attached to your partner. You are not afraid of anything. You are brave and courageous, even when most people would be terrified. You are very practical and down to earth. You're more concerned with action than thoughts. You are an amazingly hard worker. You aren't spoiled and you don't mind getting your hands dirty. You are easily influenced by other people. You're quite impressionable, so you should only be around people who are a good influence.

What Do Your Feet Say About You?

First off, thanks to Saying Yes for this fun little distraction.
Secondly, let me tell you the reality of my feet. Just a year or two ago I decided that I love my feet. For 30+ years I absolutely hated them. I hate shoes, I hate socks, and I hated my feet. Now, I love them with a deep seated l o v e.
I have the fattest, pinkest, funniest feet in the world. All summer long, I will show my feet to people and say "Look at them! Aren't they fantastic! I love my fat little feet!" See, I just love them. They are so unique, and fat and puffy and cute I can't stand it. I spend lots of money (ok, piss away lots of money) on pedicures just so I can show off my Fatty McFeetersens. The pictures are above. I know. You totally love them too, don't you?

Quick FYI

I won't be a part of our Block Party this summer. I've had a much better offer that I am really looking forward to.

Money, Life, and my Dad's sage advice on the two

More than a few years ago, my dad and I had a conversation that has stuck with me to this day. The gist of it was two important points he wanted me to remember and stick to. 1. Don't piss your money away. Well, I'm still working on that one. I've made pissing my money away practically an art form, to which I'm sure my dad shakes his head at quite often. 2. Don't piss your life away. Much more recently, my dad said to me "Von, I think you've taken that pissing your life away thing a little too far." I think I know what he means. When he made the original statements, I was in high school, being busy like high schoolers are. I was in clubs, and groups, and organizations. I went to clubs. I was rarely home. I'm *ahem* a little bit older now, but am still incredibly busy not pissing my life away. My dad chuckles when I give hime a run down of what I'm up to. Here's a quick look at what I have going on right now, or will have going on this summer: German Class Administrator to Adult German School Bodhran Class Go-go dancing Class Volunteering at Old Town School of Folk Music Trying to meet up with the cacophonists and shake things up a bit Guitar lessons Kayak lessons Joining the Chicago Kayak Club Photography Classes Bartending Chicago Festivals (I'm on board for 2 this summer, come see me!) Bartending private events Learning to crochet Oh, yeah, and my newest passion - Blogging. (Dad doesn't know about this yet) I wonder why he thinks I went a little overboard with his suggestion? There is a downside to being so busy, I may write about that some other time.

Random Friday

Just throwing out some random thoughts for a Friday. Last night was awesome. Sister-in-law-once-removed (hereafter referred to as Sil1x) came over. Sil1x is awesome. She came over to help me decide between two dresses I bought for a couple of weddings I'm going to this year. The dress trying on and evaluating part took about seven minutes. Sil1x hung out with me for a little more than an hour and a half. We were chatting, snacking (Sil1x loves me the most for my extensive supply of snacks, she just shops the kitchen.), watching the first part of Grey's. She voiced her opinion on the dresses, and I agree with her recommendation. I need one more opinion before I send back the dress I like least. I love that Sil1x lives about 3 minutes away on foot. Tonight I am going to have dinner at my parents'. My mom has this thing. Whenever she gets an idea in her head, it has to be executed NOW if not sooner. Mom decided she wants new Crocs. I bought her a pair last year and suggested she wear them when she's gardening and such. Mom LOVES her Crocs. She loves them so much she kinda wore them out. I don't understand why she can't go buy them herself, but she's insistant that I go with her. I said Okey dokey, whenev, hoping it would die off. Nope. She called and called again until I agreed to go with her tonight after work. I might get a new pair out of it. I'm thinking flip-flops. But still, not how I was wanting to spend my Friday night. I am down on internet dating. I haven't tried Match.com or Eharmony or anything decent yet, but the cheaper smaller sites suck. I hate the false sense of bravado otherwise nerdy dudes get when hiding behind the keyboard. I think I am not venturing down this road again, and taking a break entirely again. Stupid men suck. If anyone has any suggestions on meeting non-stupid non-sucky men, I'm all ears. I've walked to work from the train station twice this week. It's been difficult, and I've gotten these terrible pains in my shin. I looked up a walking website or two and they recommended stretches to help work my shins, and advised to dial down the walk. This walk is a little better than a mile. It's a nice walk, and good exercise. Of course, next week it's going to be about 30 degrees in the mornings, so I'm undecided about the walking. I refuse to walk back after work, because when it's time to go home, it's just time to go. That's all for now. Perhaps I'll have something witty to say later.

Phoning it in

So, I'm a little bummed today for reasons I chose to keep to myself at this time, so I'm totally phoning it in today. Today is Administrative Assistants' Day. I am (kinda) an admin. assistant. On Monday I had to lead our team conference call meeting, and the following is what I started out the meeting with. (My co-workers think I'm funny.) Top 10 ways to keep your coordinator happy (a happy employee is a productive employee) 1. Do not go all Devil wears Prada and throw your coat on your coordinators desk. You might now be called DWP and your coat may end up on the floor smelling oddly like my skinny mocha latte. 2. Remember there are 2 shopping days left before admin assts' day. Wed. is admin asst day. This is a real holiday, it exists. Google it if you don't believe me. 3. Your admin likes fresh air and sunlight. Take her outside occasionally. 4. There are 9 months and 27 days until S's birthday and 7 months and 6 days until Von's birthday. 5. We're girls. We like manicures, pedicures, and free lunches. 6. Know things about your coordinator. Von is a die hard Cubs fan. S is a Yankees fan. 7. If you go to a sales call anywhere near a bakery or coffee shop, stop and shop. Treats are always appreciated. 8. Your coordinator is brilliant and funny - laugh at her jokes. Laugh now. 9. If you catch your coordinator singing at her desk, tell her that her voice is lovely, and you are so glad she works with you instead of being on and winning American Idol. This is the moment to NOT laugh. 10. Realize and acknowledge that while your coordinator may lack in certain skills *ahem* PowerPoint, they are probably extraordinary at something else, for example Excel.

Bleh

It was one of those weekends. The kind that are so bad that you are glad to get back to work. Here's a sampling of the suckage: I had a surprise visit to the mechanic Saturday morning that cost me $600 and 3 hours of my life. I then went to the salon to get re-blonded, and get my eyebrows cleaned up. Now, this is not the first time I've had my eyebrows done (please refer to my myspace blog). But, I was assured that this was "super special low heat very special wax for very sensitive skin." Mm-hm. More on that in a bit. Saturday night I worked a show at Old Town, and I got my parents tickets to the show. Well, for the first time in my 3 years of volunteering there, a lady collapsed in the middle of the show. Thankfully there were many doctors in the house. When the paramedics arrived it took a little while for them to get her stable enough to take her out of the concert hall, so Kathy Mattea had us all singing Kumbaya (I am so not kidding) to fill the time. I doubt my parents will EVER go back there. Then, as they were leaving my mom (tactful that she is) pulled me aside and said "Honey, are you planning on going out tonight?" I said "Yes, John's band is playing down the street." She said "Yeah, maybe you're not going." I said "Why?" She said just go to the bathroom and look." Well, my stupid fucking eyebrows got all Frankenstein on me AGAIN. So, the super special stuff only took longer to Ruin My Face. Sunday also sucked, except for the Rock of Love 2 Reunion show. That rocked. I totally see a Rock of Love 3 in my future. Oh, my mom called Sunday morning to tell me she had the perfect solution to my eyebrow/face problem: "Hi Von. It's your mother. I have a great idea! Let's go to Great Clips and get you some bangs!" "Um, what?!" "Yes, you know bangs." "Um, why? I haven't had bangs in over 12 years." "Yes, but it will cover up the nastiness brought on from the waxing issue." Yes, mother, because bangs that will suck and take forever to grow out again is such a great fix for a problem that should be cleared up in a few days.

This just in

Here's what just happened. It's a good story I think. So, I was meeting Shannon for lunch at this fantastic little Thai place down the street on Michigan. It's another fantastically beautiful day here in Chicago. I had my ipod on and was waiting to cross Michigan with a bunch of people. I was the person closest to Randolph about to cross the street. So, the light changes and I wait the 2 seconds to see if anyone was going to run the light. No one did. So I started to walk, just like everyone else. All of the sudden, there is a car bumper practically attached to my knee. I ended up with my hand on this car that wanted to turn right, right into me. It's the closest I've come to being hit by a car. So, dumb bitch driver stops, I stop, crowd crossing street nearest me stops. I press pause on my ipod. DBD says out the window "I'm sorry BUT...." at this point, I get pissed and scream at her "NO! No I'm sorry but! Either say 'I'm sorry I damn near hit you with my car two seconds ago' or say 'I'm not sorry' but do NOT say 'I'm sorry but'!!!" This is when the strangest thing ever happened. DBD said nothing, but the crowd around me started to clap. It was like out of a movie, albiet a bad one. I managed a half-curtsy and went on my way. No one let her complete her turn. Hm.

I'm sorry, what?!?

There are reasons I remain in IL. (Besides my previously mentioned adoration of Chicago) One of the really good ones, or so I thought, was that we here in the fine Land of Lincoln do not have natural disasters. No hurricanes. No tidal waves. Not many tornadoes (at least not where I live). NO EARTHQUAKES. Hm. Hm I say. So, why did I wake up to the news this morning reporting on the 5.2 earthquake that hit in Salem, IL at 4:37 am? Why did I wake up to pee at 4:45ish and Charlie was wandering around the house whining? Of course I ignored him and went back to sleep, but that's besides the point. So, I have no first hand knowledge of this quake. I felt nothing, heard nothing. But then the news showed this section of a highway not at all far from my house that has this "crack/seam" that they are investigating. "How did this happen?" Newslady says. Um, let's see - There was a freakin' earthquake this morning!! That's how! Dumbass! Then, there's the fact that I work in a 58 story building. I'm not worried - like they said on the news, these buildings are built to withstand these types of things. So maybe they will sway a little, but they do that, so no big deal, blah blah blah. Maybe because I am still new to the working in a tall building lifestyle, but I know that I feel something when it's a windy day, so I'm likely to feel something if there's an earthquake. It's that weird feeling, like your head feels funny, and your just not quite right. So, quick recap - last year, coyote in cooler in a deli. This year, cougar in Chicago proper. Earthquake. Yep, might just have to move. Or buy a big plastic bubble to live in. Cougars might find the bubble toy-like. Damn.

I love this windy city! (and fountains are cool too!)

I have to admit, I am dorkily addicted to my city. I LOVE Chicago. I love it. Every week day, I grin like a little suburban school girl when the Loop comes in to view on my train, and I grin all the way to work. I am she who walks down the street checking out the cool buildings, and the river, and the lake, and the people. I am daily like a tourist in my own city. I love it that much. Today I woke up a little on the grumpy side of things, and I didn't expect to be that happy to go to work. But then my beloved city tossed me a happy thing. I work across the street from Millenium Park. There's this fountain that is right at the edge of the park. The fountain has been dry since like September (damn winter! damn you!). In March-ish I decided to watch the fountain, and when it went back on it would be spring, and I would be gleeful. So, of course, today, when I least expected it, the fountain was back on!! And it's going to be 70 degrees today! And I'm wearing a skirt! A cute plaid skirt! And my legs didn't get frost bite from the wearing of the cute plaid skirt and bare legs! I fully intend to go visit "my" fountain on lunch. I may even pull a Go-Gos move and splash around in it and get arrested. Cops won't get me, they are too busy shooting cougars. Sidebar- Though I do love my plaid skirt, I underestimated the wind factor today. So, for all of you on Clinton that I may or may not have inadvertantly showed my panties to while I was walking to the bus, I am so so sorry. Ahem, anyway, Viva Spring!

My weekend

Since I don't have any stunning revelations to share with y'all today, I thought I'd give you a quick recap of my weekend. Friday night I got to do a new function at my happy place, The Old Town School of Folk Music. I got to work hospitality for the Glen Phillips (of Toad the Wet Sprocket fame) show. This entailed me hovering around the office waiting for instruction from K1, the day of show producer, and K2 the house manager. Now, generally K1 scares the shit of of me. She's a little quiet, which I generally take to mean that she HATES me. Well, Friday night she was awesome to me, and taught me what to do without making me feel like a child. We chatted. K2 is already my friend and awesome in general, so that was all ok. K2 is funny as hell, and we have the same likes/dislikes of some people around the OTSFM, so we're allies. Anyway. Glen Phillips was very nice, yet quiet. He was kind and soft spoken. He had an opening act named Jonathan Kingham who is a fantastic human being. I spent more time with Jonathan than Glen, and we chatted. Jonathan is nice and chill and from Seattle. I had to get in his car with him to direct him to a secret parking spot, so we chatted quite a bit - Amen to Chicago's one way streets! He said that I have no Chicago accent.He loves Old Town's vibe. I found myself thinking that were he a Chicagoan, we'd totally be friends. We'd meet for coffee and have brunch. He'd teach me how to play guitar. Coolly. Anyway, since I don't know how to do that cool link stuff yet, please people, look up both Glen and Jonathan - they are FANTASTIC and you will not be disappointed. To look for: Jonathan's version of "Every little step I take". It'll change your life. Saturday - Hm. Ok, on the up side. I am so completely over smoking. T and I went to a casino in Indiana. HATED IT. The food was good. Surprisingly good actually. It had better be, for $32 a plate. The casino sucked major ass. Too smoky. Too many yucky leering types. Too few cheap slots w/ bonus rounds. So, we high-tailed it out of there after a few hours and headed back to blissfully smoke-free IL. Went to our old hang out, Jet's, for a quick drink. Ran into Mike J., owner of Jet's. NOw, Mike J is a wonderful guy. You kind of want to dislike him because he's my age, and owns a bar, and runs a restaurant, and is hot. BUT he's so freakin' nice that one can't dislike him at all. He's a good people. Sunday. Well. Sunday was Sunday. Sunday is as Sunday does. I don't like to do much on Sundays, and so far this year I've been mostly hungover most Sundays, so I don't plan to do things. Yesterday I was not hungover, but it was cold out and I didn't want to do much. I watched a surprisingly good silly movie "Stardust" (love me some Netflix) and also watched 3 episodes of Dexter Season 1. Love me some Dexter.

Quit your bitching

So, one of my little hobbies is to evesdrop on everyone around me. I do this mostly as I move around my work week. On the train. Walking down the street. Whatever. What was the number one topic this week? The freaking weather. Ok, so for my readers that do not live in Chicago, this week's weather was a bit chilly, mostly overcast, and rainy. Last night, major rainy. So, all week people have been pissing and moaning to one and other about the terrible weather, the bad weather, how tired they are of the weather, blah blah blah. What this week's weather is: Wet. Chilly. Hair frizzing (God Damn It). A little inconvienient. Spring like. What this week's weather ISN'T: Fucking 10 below zero with a 30 below zero wind chill. Snowing. Icy. Black as midnight at noon. Freezing rain. Blizzarding. Winter like. So, Shut up. Seriously. Chicagoans are a very fickle bunch when it comes to our sports teams and our weather. If it's that bad, and such a horrible strain on your day, move. NO one wants you here anyway.

Smell ya later

So, lots of good things happen to a body when said body quits smoking. Today, I'm talking about one thing that happens that I find to be not so good. Way not so good. The return of the sense of smell. Ok. To smell the flowers again - good. To smell tasty cookin' smells - good. 7am Metra platform Wall of Stink - not good. Not good at all. I feel like I didn't get the memo that said 'On Wed., 4/9, all riders of the Pacific NW line 7:15 train to Ogilvie please wear your worst/oldest/cheesiest/heaviest/most noxious perfume and or cologne and or eau du toilette and or body spray, and please walk in front of Von. Slowly. She's the cute chubby blonde with the fantastic lavender purse.' In the quick jaunt from train car to escalator I was scentually accosted by a long list of bad. A short sampling: Old Spice. Love's Baby Soft. B.O. Garlic. Yesterday's booze comin' out of pores. Windsong. Jovan White Musk. Flatulence. B&B works Candy apple something-or-other. Bleh. The day is half over, and I STILL have a sinus headache from this morning's onslaught. A year ago my smokin' ass would have been blissfully unaware of these nasties. Not that I'm going to take up smoking again. The whole breathing and lower blood pressure thing is certainly key. I'd just like to make a deal with the devil or something for the return of the smoking me's sense (or lack of) smell. Until said deal is made, new memo to those same riders on that same Metra train: 'Stay out of Von's way with your stank. She will trip you. I'm not kidding. You, and your stupid little backpack on wheels.'

Why my neighbors think I'm crazy (this time)

My weekend began by finding out that my dog has pink eye. My dog. Has pink eye. Who even knew that dogs get pink eye? So, twice a day since Friday, I've been having to get the dog to sit still so I can smear nasty jelly antibiotics in his eye. I didn't think much of it until Saturday afternoon when I went outside to take out the garbage. There, in the middle of the yard was Charlie (my beagle). Sitting next to Charlie, apparently enjoying the mild temperature and the sunshine was The Rabbit. The Rabbit lives under my neighbors deck. Charlie and The Rabbit have somehow become friends. There is no chasing. There is no barking, more of a whining when The Rabbit leaves Charlie alone for too long. The Rabbit knows not to fear Charlie, so therefore does not fear the people of the building. The Rabbit is dirty and nasty, and I'm pretty sure gave Charlie fleas. Rumor has it that Charlie and The Rabbit have napped together in the yard, practically cuddling - hence the fleas. So, Saturday afternoon I put it all together and decided that The Rabbit was also responsible for giving Charlie pink eye. So, I shooed Charlie into the house, and went to have a chat with The Rabbit. I walked right up to it, and started telling it sternly to stop giving my dog diseases, and stay in it's own yard, and to go play with it's own kind. By this time Charlie was back in the yard, and both animals were looking at me with boredom and contempt. I ran at The Rabbit and was pratically on top of it when it decided it was time to go back to his own yard. Charlie and his pink eye went to the fence and whined. I then talked sternly to Charlie about hanging out with dirty rabbits. It was about this time that I realized that the next door neighbors' windows were wide open, and they had probably heard my entire conversation with a rabbit and a dog. And people wonder why I drink.

Random thoughts prompted by Vh1

I wasn't going to do it. I had told myself once was enough. I did it. I caved. I watched Rock of Love II with Brett Michaels. Hm. Ok. Yeah, it f-ing rocks. My friend told me I had to watch it. She couldn't believe I wasn't watching this season. Yes, I had gotten into season 1. Just to watch Brett get played by Jess, my pink haired home town hero who was more thorn than rose. I swore I wouldn't watch. But, this past Sunday evening it was cold, I had seen the Gangland on the History Channel. I was playing on the computer and needed some background noise. I found myself putting down the remote and actually watching the trainwreck that is Brett Michaels' quest for true love on VH1. I'll admit, the return of Heather, the supreme bad-ass second placer from season one was the hook. So, as I sat and watched 4 chicks vie for a chance to "stay in the house and rock Brett's world", an idea came to me. Season 3 - Rock of Love the Plus sized version. Call it version 16.0. See, none of these season 2 grrls are going to stick around after the cameras stop rolling, so I'm thinking next steps for Brett. So, Season 3, version 16.0, I am so going on that show, and winning. I too can get fantastic blondy blond hair extension, false eyelashes, and I already have the black clothes and nailpolish. Sure, seasons 1 &2 had pole dancing, we'll have go-go dancing, I can at least do the pony. Brett can strum his guitar while I play my bodhran. I can bitch brawl with the best of 'em. Now, don't be misled, I have no interest in dating Brett Michaels. I just want to lay around drinking margaritas at 10 am, go to Vegas on a private jet, ride a motorcycle, and have to do confessional-type talking to a camera man who's name I'll probably never know. My plan is to make Big John (Brett's bouncer for when the chickies get unruly) fall madly in love with me. We will trash the house, leave the other 16.0s to Brett. Perhaps then I'll have a ballad written for me,and who doesn't want that. Sigh.