Wednesday, March 19, 2008

The Bracket Racket

Here’s something weird (weirder than normal): I just learned how to spell “Pittsburgh.” Somehow, I have spent 30 years NOT spelling Pittsburgh, because honestly (and by honestly, I mean embarrassingly) I never knew there was an “h” on the end. To all of you who live in Pittsburgh, I’m so sorry.

I was spelling “Pittsburgh” because I was filling out my bracket for the NCAA tournament. Granted, I have no idea what I’m doing because I’ve seen a grand total of 7 minutes of college basketball this year, but nevertheless, I’ve got the March Madness.

You see, Brett and I will be spending this weekend with some folks who care about such things, and who are having us over expressly for the purpose of drinking beer and watching basketball and I refuse to take the roll of resident Clueless Girl. I plan to be invested.

This should be easy as long as my alma mater wins. Go Warriors (yes, I know they’re the Golden Eagles now, but that’s stupid). Beyond Marquette, I don’t have the foggiest notion of who’s who and why I should advance one team over another. I mean, there are some gimmes, like the fact that I will NOT advance Oral Roberts University on principle and I can’t advance Austin Peay because, quite frankly, I don’t even know how to say that second word. As for the other teams, HELP! Are any of you filling out bracket nonsense? Who do you like? Instruct me!

P.S. There’s a reason I procrastinate; I work well under pressure.


I'm lacking in a proper "work ethic" so I put off today what can be done tomorrow, and now it's tomorrow and I'm all sorts of fucked, so let's all look at a purdy picture of a sunset in Judith Gap, Montana (courtesy of this guy) because life is short, and there's a world beyond the office.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

bringin' da noise

Brett and I often discuss the fact that Chicago seems to have very little relation (beside geographical, political, technical) with Illinois. This became even clearer today when I had to call Springfield (the capital) and inquire as to what exact documentation I needed to bring with me to the 10th circle of hell, A.K.A. the DMV, to register my car (yes, I know I’ve lived here 8 months and have yet to switch plates, mind your own bees’ wax). The man who answered had a thick southern drawl and called me “ma’am” repeatedly.

When did I move to the South?

The thing about Illinois is that Chicago is up around the top, the tippity-top, of the state, but Illinois descends deep into the middle of the country, meeting up with such states as Missouri and Kentucky. These states are most decidedly Southern and the fact that Illinois shares a border with said states makes it possibly Southern itself. I mean, I think there’s a Waffle House down there and I swear there was a comedian or some such who claimed that it wasn’t the Mason-Dixon Line that determined North v. South, but the Waffle House Line. (anyone know who said that?)

Illinois seems to be a state that defies classification. It’s got Chicago, which is decidedly Midwestern, but if you go visit Carbondale (southern most tip) you will feel like you’re in Arkansas. I know this because I’ve been to Carbondale and I wondered if we drove too far.

If I lived outside of the Chicago metro area (which I will in very short order, but not by much) I would be pissed that Chicago lead the legislature and ate up most of the money. It would royally piss me off if I had to pay higher taxes so that the “L” could keep running, even though I never used the “L” and would really instead like to have the potholes in the highway fixed, or you know build a NEW highway. It would also piss me off that my Senator, Mr. Obama, took a plane or a helicopter (I don’t remember which) to Springfield because he didn’t want to live anywhere in Illinois but Chicago. Oh, and he used taxpayer funds to do this. (too lazy to verify this, but I heard it was true)

Brett and I are leaving the delineated confines of Chicago for a number of reasons. First of all, it’s easier for me to be far away from the office than for him to be far away from school (what with the working from home bidness), and second of all, suburbs kind of suck and we can’t afford to have a yard in the city. Do any of you ever watch “What you get for the Money?” Chicago real estate is obscene. It pains me to think of the one room condo we could afford in the city, whereas out in the sticks we can have an estate (not really, but at least a yard).

Also, I feel like the rest of Illinois is the much ignored and over looked younger sibling. The poor thing is working so hard, being such a good little state and no one is paying any attention to it. We’re just eating all the corn it consistently produces and then tossing the husks on the floor for it to pick up. It deserves some attention, and damnit, we’re gonna give it to it. I plan to put the “noise” back in Illinois[e].

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

This is what passes for a post around here

This buying a house shit is ALL CONSUMING. Please forgive me for not doing anything blog related and being silent as a church mouse on your blogs. It’s just that I’m obsessed and I am pretty sure you do NOT want to hear about it. Here’s how it’s going:
look at a house in our price range
determine owners are either blind or crazy
look at a house outside of our price range
feel at home
cue call to lender, promise first born
lather, rinse, repeat.


I don’t remember being like this the last time I bought a house. I guess it’s just that last time I actually liked the apartment I was in. Now I feel like our apartment is sucking the life out of my soul every moment I spend in the darn thing. Brett and I have both determined that the apartment is ruining our lives, one popcorn ceiling kernel at a time. (Can you say “built in the 80’s?”)

Wednesday, March 05, 2008


Well kids, it’s official. I had my first hot flash.

(If you’re playing at home, you should be aware that I’m currently on Lupron treatment for endometriosis. Lupron induces temporary menopause because it basically ceases production of a large quantity of estrogen. It’s also used for fertility treatments, but in my case, it’s for endometriosis.)

So last night, I awoke about 3am absolutely drenched in sweat. To make matters worse, I was trapped under two sleeping dogs, in flannel sheets and flannel pajamas. I kicked myself free of the bed and the dogs (note, I did not kick the dogs, but had to surreptitiously remove my legs from their HOT bodies) and did so with such disgust that I actually woke Brett up. He thought I was having a nightmare, but in reality I was just a firey, hot MESS.

Jesus, this sucks.

Also, I have my period. Apparently, you often have at least one period after starting Lupron. Fine, but this is not my average period. Usually it’s relatively pain free and LIGHT. Not this time. Unfortunately, it first revealed itself while I was at the bank doing my pre-approval crap from the bank lady and I had to excuse myself and race to the bathroom and why do banks not stock tampons or pads or sanitary napkins or whatever the kids are calling them these days? (Yes, I know, many women keep these things in their purses. Whatever) I was forced to go all MacGuyver (*edited to spell MAcGUyger correctly, because I cannot spell TV character names*) on my girl parts and that’s something no woman should ever do.

Also, there is pain; intense, searing, uteral pain and WHY? I think this was exactly the thing the Lupron was supposed to stop, but apparently my endometriosis is making a final stand. What a bitch.

Tuesday, March 04, 2008

Have you watched this?

lost and found

Last night, Brett and I were watching yet another episode of Lost. He asked how many more disks we had of the 3rd season, and when I said we had but 3 more, he was RELIEVED. Yes, relieved, because watching Lost has eaten up a frightening amount of our lives lately. Luckily, I understand that this is a common phenomenon and we are not, in fact, crazy.

However, we are house crazy around here, because we are in the thick of the house hunt and it's kind of awesome. Basically, if Lost isn't on around here, HGTV is. Granted, I have no idea if our house will require remodeling or extreme decorating but who cares? We've already decided that any house we buy will be lovely and delightful because it will be OURS and there will be a yard for our dogs' pooping needs. A yard, what a wonderful concept!

All we know for sure that we need is a fenced yard, a two-car garage or the potential to build one, an electrical system that supports at least 200 amps, 3 bedrooms or the potential to add on, and strangely enough it would be almost preferable to NOT have A/C. You see, we kind of want to retrofit a house to use geothermal heating and cooling. Shockingly enough, it's not that expensive and the benefits are HUGE and you should read about it and then retrofit your house.

I fear I'm going to annoy the shit out of our real estate agent. I'm kind of obsessed with this whole house thing and that means I'm constantly on and the MLS website and then I'm constantly sending her houses I like. This means she gets emails from me relatively frequently and we're not exactly million dollar home buyers, so she's probably ruing the day we stumbled into her open-house and convinced her we were sane people, when in reality, one of us most certainly is not.

Saturday, March 01, 2008

A day in the life

What? That title didn’t reel you in like a trout to a delicious dangling worm? Come on, you know you wanna know what we do on a day off.

Just play along okay?!

Yesterday I had the day off and Brett did too and we lazed about in bed (snuggling with dogs, not even touching each other mind you) until almost 9am. That’s LATE.

Finally, we got ourselves out of bed and decided to use the coupons that Caribou Coffee had kindly mailed us (coupons are the only impetus for us doing just about anything) and get ourselves some fancy coffees. I forced Brett to get something other than his usual BLACK coffee, namely a mocha, and I got a latte and we shared a cinnamon roll and poppy seed cake and then we passed out due to a heavy sugar coma. Seriously, don’t try that breakfast at home kids, it won’t turn out well.

We needed a break after that high endurance breakfast, and so I made Brett watch the most recent episode of Project Runway. He is one of eight straight men in the country who will watch this show. I took a poll.

Fully rested, we donned our finest work-our apparel (t-shirt received from signing up for 5K, but not actually running 5K) and walked ourselves over to the gym to torture ourselves. The gym is very small, with two treadmills, two ellipticals, a stair-master and some sort of weight lifting contraption. There was a girl on one of the treadmills, so Brett and I placed ourselves on the ellipticals and turned on the only TV in the joint. I flipped the TV to an episode of “That 70’s Show” because, if you weren’t aware, there is NOTHING on at 11am on Friday.

About 20 minutes into our sweat-fest, an elderly gentleman came into the gym, wearing a too tight – too shear – t-shirt and SWIMMING TRUNKS and proceeded to leap on the stair-master. About this time, the episode of That 70’s Show was ending, but sure enough, another one was starting up just after it. When this information was received by Mr. Swim Trunks he appeared visibly frustrated and maybe infuriated by his station in life. I had no idea that a sitcom could bring on such angst.

Brett and I ended our work-out and I passed along control of the remote to Swim Trunks. Immediately upon receipt of said remote, Swim Trunks changed the channel to the History Channel and some sort of military history program, because who doesn’t want to work out to crashing WWII bombers and I’m sure that programming like that is much more attractive in a group TV watching setting. Sheesh!

Brett and complained about Swim Trunks and wondered why people are so cranky as we walked back to our humble abode. Why are people so ridiculous? Seriously.

We showered and got ready because it was time for me to get a poke in the butt. My Lupron shot people, get your minds out of the gutter, COME ON!

All I have to say about that injection is OUCH.

No symptoms yet, I’ll keep y’all posted.

So . . . here we are at 1:30pm. We’re hungry (sugar safely metabolized) and maybe in need of some wedding rings for upcoming nuptials. What better place to go than a flea market in Aurora (home of Wayne and Garth), Illinois? I hear they have great tacos AND antique jewelry.

I heard wrong.

Admitting defeat, Brett and I decided to go to Walter Payton’s Roundhouse for lunch and a brewsky. But first we drove around Aurora, because WHY NOT?

I had a delicious Italian beef sandwich with giardiniere, which is my very favorite condiment in existence and I wasted 30 years not even knowing of its existence. Shameful.

By this time it was nigh on 3:30pm, and with two-beers in our full bellies, we chose the only course of action left: Finish Season 2 of Lost while digesting and possibly falling asleep (god I love days off!).

Who of you watches Lost? That show is phenomenal and if you do watch it, do NOT tell me what happens in seasons 3 and 4. If you don’t watch Lost, get yourself the first season and try not to be obsessed. I’m just sayin’ that this show will fuck with your head in a GOOD WAY.

So what do a couple of crazy, engaged kids do on a Friday night? Ballroom dance class, of course!

This was our first night of Ballroom II – A.K.A. Awkward, Embarrassing, Frustrating II.

I’ll have to leave you all hanging (wait, you left? Oh well) because ballroom really deserves its own post. It’s insane and I have to figure out how to describe it well enough to do it justice. Maybe Brett can find a way? (hint hint, babe!)

P.S. The “typo” I spoke of in my last post was, “utmost.” I wrote “upmost” instead, and yes, I had spell check. Attention to detail? Not so much.