A Time to Say 'Thank You'

Yes, yes another blog post about the Olympics...

But I have to say, that with the Olympics coming to a close, it always makes me sad. Fortunately we only have to wait two years for all the records, pageantry, and stories that tug at the heart strings.

Saying that, just in the last week I've been inspired by so many stories of parents supporting the dreams of their children (adult or not, it doesn't matter). So much so, that I called my parents just to say "thanks".

I'm not an Olympic athlete, nor will I ever become one. But my parents gave me life, a roof over my head, higher education, and have supported my decisions in life. I've thanked them many times throughout my life, but an unexpected thank you is always nice.

This one's for you Mom and Dad--thank you for getting me where I wanted to be in life :)

Since when is it pronounced "bay-jing"?

A random thoughts list on the 2008 Beijing Summer Olympics:

-the McDonalds commercial that frequently loops (for the new chicken sandwich)--- nasty! Bun, chicken nugget (essentially) and pickle?? wtf?
-Michael Phelps is a mutant
-But Michael Phelps is also AWESOME
-Men's beach volleyball players should wear less clothing
-The little girl whose voice was dubbed for the opening ceremony due to her "features", that IS making the Chinese look worse than if she actually did sing
-Hotties of the games thus far: the Spanish volleyball team, a lot of the eastern European athletes from the opening ceremonies, Ryan Lochte, and Ian Thorpe (even though he is pro and not competing, we still see shots of him gloating at all of the Phelps competitions)
-Bob Costas is so f'ing fake
-I think Dara Torres should've spent more time in the water than the tanning beds during her Olympics hiatus
-I'm getting used to the black blob on Kerry Walsh's shoulder
-Men's gymnastics just isn't as cool this time around without the Hamms

Day 30

And the line outside the Apple Store is finally non-existent!

Lunchtime Voyeurism

I think one of my favorite things about living in a city is people watching. It's a great activity for a lazy Sunday. Or, as I've recently found, on your lunchbreak while 26 stories high, observing rooftops below you.

I happen to work off the "world-famous" Magnificent Mile of Chicago. I would assume most of the high-rise condos in the neighborhood range in the $400K range minimum, and they certainly attract 'special' people. Day traders, the independently wealthy, etc.--these might be the special folk lounging on the rooftop pool I watch almost everyday on my lunch break.

It wasn't until yesterday that things really started to heat up. Call it what you want, but if you think you're about to witness full-on, daylight sex HOW CAN YOU NOT WATCH?!

Sadly, "Roberto and Isabelle"--my nicknamed latin lovers, were not on the roof today during the lunch hour. In fact, no one was up there today. A 90 degree day and the hot and tanned are no where to be seen? There's always tomorrow...

Please, save the postage

Attn: xxxL Fxxxxxx
Coldwell Banker
1959 Halsted Street
Chicago, IL 60614


Dear Mr. Fxxxxxx:

I appreciate your recent correspondence with me, "Current Resident" at 525 W. Cornelia. It is always wonderful to receive mail from people I have never met in my life.

Since we are only a mile away from each other and you feel SO eager to introduce me to the newly reduced condominiums at 643 W. Barry, I thought I would write you a reply back.

I'd like to start by stating that as for my 'assets'--I have none. I hope you realize that lending companies don't gladly loan money towards a down payment for those that say, barely peak out of an income bracket of $34,000. Nor can we afford the monthly payments either. So with that, you're not winning over any new business when you send us postcards. Perhaps, you're hoping that those that can't afford the mortgage can use mom and dad or a sugar daddy? Well, you're barking up the wrong tree.

My advice is save the 42 cents--ooh big spender, it's over postcard size!--and concentrate on those more fortunate and not in danger of foreclosure in another year.

Kindest regards,

Farrah Katz

BoBo the Bigot Clown

Next Monday, I have the great honor of finally starting a permanent position in my new city. For the last four months, I've been doing contract work only and I finally feel like I am rooted here.

Having said this, I thought I would share a story of my most recent coworker (from a contract gig). In this story, she is known as Bobo. You may ask why, and it's easy--she is pasty and has short, cropped, permed red hair. Did I also mention the smile that rivals that of Ronald McDonald?

Ok, so now that you've gotten the image etched into your mind--oh wait! I didn't mention she is also of Scottish ancestry. Maybe even a love child of Ronald? The company's headquarters are based here....

Enough with the tangents....Bobo's biggest problem, sorry problems, were A)she talked too damn much (we had short cubicles that allowed her to make my ears bleed all day, every day) and B)about 80% of what came out of her mouth was either sheer bigotry, hatred, and/or generalizations.

A few gems I've remembered, or should I say don't want to remember:
"Any company that has Hispanics working there, ALWAYS provides Good Friday as a paid holiday."
"If it wasn't for those damned Arabs, our energy bills and gas wouldn't be so high."
Being of Scottish ancestry (read: VERY distantly), she felt it necessary to make crude comments about the Irish, amongst many other ethnic groups.

My problem on top of that is she looked at me like a confidante, only 40 years younger (she is the same age as my mom). She didn't see through the nodding, lack of eye contact, shiftiness towards my iPod to block out her bantering. Nothing. Since we only worked on contract for two months, the thought had crossed my mind to ask my boss if I could move to a different floor where I knew there were open desks but I knew it would be suspect. Or she might not have even noticed. Either way, I was always pining for the clock to hit 4:30--no big deal that I had 30 more minutes of work, I just wanted her to go home.

The Arab-energy comment obviously stung me, which is why I refused to tell her my specific ethnicity. She even counterattacked me because she had a hard time believing a Caucasian, brunette with brown eyes was strictly of English and French ancestry. Quite common in fact, had she never known what Audrey Hepburn looked like? And what was it to her? I changed my last name to protect myself from the hurtful words and actions of people like this in my hometown. The last thing I needed was to be interrupted during my work and being called a towelhead (I'm half-Arab), sand digger (once again, I'm half-Arab) or getting the stink eye because of news stories coming out of Iran, Israel, Afghanistan or any other nation with a Jewish or Muslim nation (I am neither of those religions).

This woman was baffling. She especially peaked my sociological interests of how she had survived in Chicago for 20 years, without being burned at the stake. Did she just wake up one morning and forget how diverse the city population is? I had to look past the fact that she somehow holds a master's degree and for some time lived in boystown. The fact that she grew up in "border town", Indiana spelled it out in black and white (and red, and yellow, brown....).

I guess what really gave me peace was that this woman hid her unhappiness. An eternal spinster (and former cat lady). She brought it on herself. If she's a bigot into her 60s then she's done it all her life, and who wants to be friends with that?

The Many Faces of Chicago Men, Part III

And now for the conclusion of the enthralling three part series of my quest to discover the Men of Chicago.

As mentioned before the Douchebag is hated by many people. This next species is one of them:

The Hipster
The Hipster can be spotted in a 4-step process: 1)brooding look 2) skin-tight jeans, hoodie, maybe sunglasses (is it me, or does this style say Unabomber?) 3) rolled cigarette hanging out of their mouth 4) can of Pabst in hand. Something tells me that Hipsters unite all around the country and that their styles don't change from coast to coast. Chicago Hipsters tend to live in/around Logan Square, the western part of Lakeview (but far enough from Wrigley), and if they're independently wealthy (or with a roomate), Wicker Park.

The Adam Levine Wannabe
These guys are very hard to pinpoint--are they metrosexual/gay/wannabe hipsters or none of the above? If you notice Figure A to the right, this is the template of these ambiguous men of Chicago. I've often wondered about Adam Levine myself--he's most likely straight because his many conquests are tabloid fodder, yet he dresses in tailored suits, dress shoes--but what's with all the tattoos, the faux hawk you started sporting once your album dropped last year and the Hipster sunglasses??! This isn't junior high, don't try to be someone you're not. Sorry, went off tangent there. Probably because he's too hot to not stare at on a regular basis.

Ok back to the group....They pair pink Lacoste polos and mutton chops. Converse and a few tattoos but a wardrobe full of John Varvatos. I have encountered this specimen in many neighborhoods but I'm willing to pinpoint their main habitat somewhere around the convergence of River North, Old Town, and Wicker Park.

And, last but not least The Jr. Superfan

Readers, at the present time it is baseball season. The Jr. Superfan is in full-force. They are EASILY spotted in a polo of the American Eagle/Abercrombie/Gap, etc. variety (as if they could afford a Lacoste with that shit recruiting job). Usually a dumb-founded look is upon their face, along with a can of beer (nothing light mind you), and a protruding belly. These men represent the future diabetics of Chicago (oh shit, I'm gonna get in trouble for this one). In addition to their stomping grounds in/around Soldier Field, any Big 10 tailgate, Wrigley...you'll see them at pizza joints, hot dog stands, you know the drill. These men make you pine for the low BMI'd, health nuts of Denver.

Once football season is upon us I'm sure I will encounter many more Jr. Superfans. For now, I'm just glad that the majority of the men I see on a day-to-day are young, hot and gay and in no way a threat to me ;)