An Anectode:

Last Tuesday I had just shut down my Jurassic computer and was getting ready for 13 hours of corporate-free living when, lo and behold, my phone rang. I recognized the area code as that through which calls from my Australian former-roommate are routed, so OF COURSE I answered.

Being in a bit of a hurry as I had to meet a student soon after 5:00, I decided the most logical course of action was neither waiting (time is moneyyyy!) nor taking the elevator (too much a dropped-international-call hazard), but instead consisted of talking while walking down twenty-two (22) flights of stairs. Brilliant! Brilliant, but ill-fated. See, I was wearing rickety shooz that made the counterclockwise descent both extraordinarily loud and fairly dangerous; I kicked those babies off and went down in bare feets, which solved both problems of decibel and danger levels, but also added another to the mix: filthy bare soles. Additionally, I was met with something of a conundrum when after the lengthy descent I found myself stuck 'tween a tiger and its exploding azz (the tiger being an entire building's worth of locked doors -- no less and no more than one (1) per floor -- and the exploding azz being one (1) unlocked but apparently alarmed exit). "What to do?" I wondered. Answer: look at watch, shrug at security camera and bust through door at full force! WOoo! . . door leads to building's shady underbelly (warm and moist) and passageway spills out into alleyway. safety!

The next day I wondered if I should try to change my appearance so as to keep the building security oblivious as to my caught-on-camera identity. I decided against it, feeling that though I can try to blend in with the corporate world of my building lobby, at this juncture I enjoy my commuting niceties (flippity-flops and backpack) too much to forego them before the 22nd floor makes foregoance (?) a necessity. Yeah! And I have yet to be banned from the building. Principles matter!

You guessed correctly -- it was my papa's bday. I know he looks a little old for 37, but hard living has been known to have its way with even life's golden children. shouganai.¹

This July weekend served as a lovely template for weekends to come, I can only hope. 'Twas filled with multiple wine-and-cheese[cake]-saturated visits to Millenium Park for musical enjoyment, a trip to the top of what its elevator recording touts as the world's most recognizable building, frisbee-ing and hula-hooping while listening to some sweet brass in hipsterville, playing beer pong while wig-clad, watching ringleted wee ones enjoy the chilly splendor of Crown Fountain, making the obligatory weekend stopover at Hollywood Beach, consuming mojitos on the g.c., garnering free coffee from the new neighborhood convenience store and enjoying all activities in the presence of dear Butterchunks, in from Ann Arbor.

Even today's lazy Sunday held excitement; a trip to Chinatown was made and a wall-hanging of these glorious talents was purchased and now graces the space above my couch. Jake, you will wet your pants with joy when you see it, I promise!

¹Click here for a dictionary, type it in and click on the box for "romanized Japanese." Effort, yes, but if it was easy then *everyone* would do it!

After patronizing Margaret Cho's stand-up act on Sunday I have decided that what I occasionally self-interpret as a vaguely scrubby sense of humor may not be so scrubby after all. Compared to the Cho, in fact, I am a sweet, bleached-out, cavity-free angel. And I like that feeling, in a sense. Squeaky-cleanliness presumed, I will now delve into the crevices of bathroom humor for the sake of cavitifying my image a lil' bit (this post + having "breached security" at work yesterday = 3% badass!), and thus we have: the port-a-loo I used on Saturday out in the suburbs. I laughed out loud a little bit when I saw it, but quickly realized that I was laughing alone and stopped.

But that's enough of that! Back to Mother Pie and Apple Hood on the right: one of the following attractive older-type-gentlefolk (sole clue: the one who is neither Serbian nor Polish nor Eastern-European in any fashion) turned a certain age yesterday, and though I could not be there to share in the birthday celebrations, I imagine it was splendid. Happy birthday!

Occasionally my blog pops up when folks perform only vaguely related searches on yahoo, google, etc. Some of the most recent are: "bacterial thread," "australly," "tachikawa immigration office," "bikram chicago" "apocalypse now," "richard gere congress," and "bus to kawaguchiko gogome." My blog gets around!

These pictures illustrate destruction caused by this volcano, on whose slopes J, V, L and I spent two nights exactly one month ago. An ND friend also involved in World Teach's Ecuador Year, in some inebriated yet earnest moments, encouraged us to "sleep with our bags packed and running shoes on" while in its shadow, a warning most others in the know assured us to be extreme. Convinced by the latter group we slept shoeless and surrounded by unpacked piles of our clothes and other belongings (at least I did), but the clarity of hindsight indicates perhaps we should've been a bit more volcano-savvy. Oh well. Living on the edge!

Swamp Thing is on TV and the special effects and hairdos are amazing!

In Jake's stead I get to see Margaret Cho tonight. Comedy!

On the way back from meeting a student in the 'burbs yesterday, I stumbled upon a garage sale Schwinn. Despite its proclaimed need of "a little rustoleum" by the fella sharing the air pump with me at the neighborhood Mobile station, I think it's the most beautiful bike I've ever owned.

Having been in Japan during the onset of S.O.A.P. fever, I just now discovered that it is an acutal movie. Unbelievable.

So while I was in Ecuador my roommate left the States for Honduras. There he performed many altruistic feats such as carting birthing women around in vans, cleaning amniotic fluid out of vans, and installing awnings on orphanage roofs. Drawback: during the last of these activities the electric drill he was using sought out his limbs as electrical channels, causing him to fall of the roof, singe some bodyparts and break an ankle. GOSH. Fortunately he is fixably ok, currently in Tennessee getting repaired, and returning to the bosom of Andersonville in due time.

While Jake was undergoing corporeal duress in the Southern climes, I was doing the same on a much smaller scale in Chicago. Biding time ‘til my corolla’s 7 p.m. homecoming (it having been subject to the whims of Dave for a full ten days) by reading some Kafka On The Shore on, naturally, the shore, I was totally oblivious to some stealthy epidermal roasting that was happening on my backside. Owch. So my daily herbal infusion now includes, in addition to goldenseal and wormwood, about a gallon of aloe. Mmm. Anyway, after the burning I welcomed Dave back to the cittaaayyyy and soon thereafter treated my car to a little bit o' sweet welcome-back-to-Chicago lovinnnnn' in the form of a thorough vacuuming and nine minutes of foamy brushing and high-pressure rinsing (all manual, of course). It looks stunning!

Yesterday brought about a flurry of home decorating that, were I actually nesting, would have been blissful. BUT, I'm not zealous about pouring an over-abundance of resources into this apartment, despite my love for it. Plus, I don't like spending time in Ikea when it's beautiful outside, and I don't like amassing sundries, because who need sundries when they've recently acquired a Chicago Public Library card and can self-sustain (for the forseeable future) by borrowing? Sooooo, the whole experience wasn't quite as sweet as it could've been, but here's what I got anyway, just for S & G (as Jonah might say), but not literally:

1) Nested end tables (2)
2) Wicker lamp shade
3) Bamboo cutting board
4) Shower caddy
5) Black poster frames (2)
6) Aluminum floor reading lamp
7) 6 ft. wide 4-tier book shelf
8) Stackable recycling bins (4)
9) Silverwear tray
10) Underwear drawer organizers (7)
11) Dish drying rack
12) Cords for hanging lanterns (2)

I'm terribly pleased, especially with the recycling bins. They're awesome: voluminous, side-loading and easily transportable from pantry to car to recycling center and back. I feel that it's difficult to express my excitement without also being able to share the full recycling experience with each and every reader. Please try to imagine their utilitarian goodness and perhaps I'll post a photo or two once they're properly labeled.

But not today! Annnd, i resolve: no more consumerism for the rest of the summer (unless I get a bike I've been eyein'/spyin' from craigslist). But first, priorities: begin using newly-acquired CPLibrary card, start self-sustaining garden, make old clothes new, trade excess couch throws for dairy cow/beast of burden to dwell in pantry beside (astride?) recycling bins. Wish me luck!

I give up. I can't care about the World Cup anymore. I cared, and I got burned . . . and I also got a little fortune-cookie style advice from the local convenience store sage: "welll, you see, somebody has to win and somebody has to lose. It always works this way, no?"

Fortunately the Italy-v-France wound is treatable, and my soothing salve of choice is Bikram, Bikram the yoga. I love it. I wish every month was $30 beginner discount month. Sigh.

In other news, yesterday was the 4th and I forgot to play last year's Lee Greenwood itunes purchase, sadly applicable (by my highbrow standards, anyway) only once yearly.

My dear roommate, currently caught up in something or another at an orphanage in Honduras, comes back to northern soil next week. Hooray. I don't feel like a needy person, but I really like having someone with whom to share my domestic situation. Fortunatley, I haven't had to be completley self-sufficient in roomie's absence; a steady stream of house/couch-guests (Dave, Sarah and my friend Kim) has kept the absence tolerable.

In summary and in conclusion, I just paired and folded all of my socks for the first time in months, and it felt really great.

In addition to twice viewing the Portugal v. England match and its surprising yet satisfying result, this weekend served as cansvas for many colorful events including but not limited to: the purchase of new back tires and the subsequent eight-day relinquishment of my car, the re-introduction (if fleeting) of the other TJ back into my life, the same (though likely less fleeting) for E. K. No-ASS, the touristy enjoyment of a poorly-docented (yet informative) Chicago Architectural Foundation boat tour, the new presence of service-for-eight silverware in my apartment, the preemptive loss of 10 years of hearing *and* the acquisition of a free (broken) belt and some free (delicious) pizza. Success!