Nights Out: Adventures at Lee's

Most of you know that I'm a pretty functional alcholic.
I like to drink socially.
And for the longest time my watering hole was a little place in Bay View called Lee's.

*SIGH*
Lee's.

People knew that is where I would be any given Friday or Saturday.
With my BFF, P.
And the usual suspects; J-Bones, JJ, and sometimes AA.
And lawdy were those good times.
Themed picture nights.
Knowing you had to play Sexy Sadie if you wanted to hear Helter Skelter.
Breaking glass.
Cempazuchi guy.
Doorman.

And then.
Then shit got weird.
It seemed the group kind of got out of focus.
And no one can remember what the breaking point was.
But we feel there was one.
And so a self-imposed Lee's sabbatical was taken.

And like our drinking, we don't take sabbaticals lightly.
So we missed out on some quality Lee's time.
So after one too many nights at one of the most boring bars in the world, we decided to try Lee's again.
And it felt oh-so-good.
Like your favorite pair of jeans.
Or Chuck Taylors.

Still knew our drinks.
Still the same regs (for the most part).
But you know the saying.
The more things stay the same--
The more they change.
Okay so that is not the saying, but I like it.
Doorman is in jail!
Trifecta found God!
BT is the owner of the bar!
Credit Cards!
Internet jukebox!
Hearts hearts hearts a flutter.

Needless to say, we've decided to end said sabbatical and call Lee's our home once again.
And we love it.
Sure shit can still get wierd, but it's all in good fun.
And how can you stop going to a place where the whole bar sings along to "Your Love" by the Outfield AND Motown Philly by Boyz II Men.
You can't.
Plain and simple.
You must go there always and forever (which I can't wait to play on the juke box).

But I think the best part of Lee's is that P and I are feel as if we are in a movie/tv show every time we go.
We can't believe who we see and what they do.
And perhaps with a little too much self awareness, we wonder where we fit in the mix.

Last Lee's Experience:
(which I'm pretty sure could become a regular feature in this blog)
Jbones meets P and I there. Things are going fine, putting ridick songs on the juke box, catching up and then a scarf comment.
A Tom Selleck ala Magnum PI asks if he can compliment me on my scarf.

Jj: Here we go. Sure.
TS: Um, I like your scarf.
Clearly he didn't think his initial statement through.

Then TS's sidekick, who looks almost exactly like Jay from Jay and Silent Bob but with some weird south-side slash west coast accent starts BFFing with Jbones. The guy's harmless enough if not completely wasted. P and I were mostly happy that he was chatting up Jbones and not us.





And in walk two guys to which Jbones turns to me and says "Tears for Fears."

And we all starts singing "Everybody Wants to Rule the World."
Because these guys looked, with our boozy glasses, like Tears for Fears.







In all fairness, it should be noted that we've seen our fair of tribute artists/look-a-likes at Lee's so this has become somewhat of an obsession:
John Denver ala Muppets Christmas Album

 Cat Stevens

Kenny Loggins

 Lynyrd Skynrd band

And later in the night, because apparently the 80s moon was out:

Duran Duran tribute band.
Complete with groupies who didn't have state issued id's but passports.
Ooh la la.
It was all P and I could do from playing every Duran Duran song on the juke box.
Fortunately we had already spent all of our money on "Everything I Do (I Do It For You)" which was P's response to DMB that was playing, which I have to whole-heartedly agree with. Schmaltzy Bryan Adams is better than DMB or reggae any day. We also played "Angry Eyes," the instrumental version of "Invisible Touch," "Easy Lover," "Wonderwall," (complete with British accents!), "King of the Road," "Crying," and way too many other songs to recount this amount of time later.

Songs playing, laughter ensuing and Blondy McDrunktown sits next to P.
And she then proceeds to complement all of us:
To P: Purse or bangles or earrings.
Jj: Scarf, "It reminds me of Colorado." (??? Like I said, Blondy McDrunktown)
Jbones: Glasses.
She then proceeds to tell us she usually doesn't go out so she's a little tipsy.
This girl is pretty much at the bar to get h-core effed.
So we decide to keep an eye on BMcD while still eavesdropping on the TS and the southside/west coast Jay.
Good times are had and then the eggs are broken out.

No one can eat 50 eggs.
And as luck would have it, BMcD couldn't eat any eggs.
BT tells us that he bought the eggs for jocularity.
It's a gag (literally and figuratively!) that people will dare each other to eat/drink when they're good and drunk. The whole tub of pickled eggs was bought at some reasonable price and it's funny to watch people gag them down.
Down being the operative word.

As BT is passing out eggs like it's Easter Sunday, BMcD asks for one.
P and I can see no good coming from this but it's like a god-damn trainwreck.
A conversation ensues and all of a sudden I see BMcD turn and spit the egg out.
Jj: Is she spitting or is she puking?
P turns to look.
P: Uh.
Conversation stops and we decide to watch BMcD coyly spit out the egg while trying to seal the deal with some random she's sitting next to.
And then there is no question as to whehter she's spitting up like an infant or vomitting.
Emesis has ensued.
Quite frankly, P and I can't believe this just happened.
I not-so-coyly flag BT down and he watches round two.
She then grabs the bar towel and proceeds to wipe her mouth, chest and pants off.
She then thrown said bar towel on her pile of vom.
We continue to watch as the guy she's sitting with has either ignored the emesis or finds this a turn on bukake style. One can never tell these days.
We then watch her tell BT that she's vommed on the floor. She very blondly apologizes and leave.
By herself, thank god.

Full disclosure.
I'm a puker.
I've puked at various bars in Milwaukee.
Strike that, I've puked in various toilets in various bathrooms in various bars in Milwaukee.
I've never puked AT a bar.
Hells, I've never puked when anyone can even HEAR me.
I'm stealthy.
And if you're an adult.
You should know when you have to make a break for it.
There are signs.
Pupils dilate.
Mouth salivates.
And unless vomitting is a new phenomenon to you.
You know when it's about to hit.

Needless to say, closing time was an adventure, as it usually is.

Just Enough for the City

I love me some Milwaukee.
I really, really do.
Some people hate it here.
Some people think it's dirty.
Some people think it's racist.
Some people think it's lame.
Some people think it's stupid.

But to those people I say MOVE!
I love Milwaukee.
What I DON'T like about Milwaukee is everyone raking on it all the time.

This all began when I was watching a Bucks game.
Yep, it's true. Milwaukee has a professional basketball team.
And they're going to the playoffs!
A commercial aired for a summer basketball camp that the Bucks were putting on.
I thought to myself, "Well how great that the Bucks will be having something for Milwaukee's youth."
And then the location of the camp was stated: Mequon.
Mequon is a "suburb" of Milwaukee
Mequon is a good 30 minutes from Milwaukee.
Children that could really benefit from a skills building basketball camp most likely can't get to Mequon.
I'm not saying children who live in Mequon won't benefit from a basketball camp.
They will.
But wouldn't it make sense to at least hold the camp in the city. Where the parents of the Mequon kids commute to for their jobs.
I realize I'm speaking in sweeping generalizations here but here are some fun facts:
The median income in Mequon is $90733.
The median income in Milwaukee is $32216
The graduation rate for Mequon is consistently in the high 80s or low 90s percentage wise
The graduation rate for Milwaukee is in the mid to high 60s percentage wise (This is up from the low to mid 50 it was pulling in about 10 years ago!).
I guess I don't understand how anyone expects Milwaukee to get "better" if people keep leaving.
I'm not saying city living is for everyone, I get that it's not.
But I feel the people who do live in Milwaukee have to explain it to our suburban friends or relatives.

I have a bone to pick with the radio station 88.9 as well.
Radio Milwaukee it's called.
And I like it.
I really do.
Sometimes they play a little too much "A Tribe Called Quest," but whatevs.
And they do play local music, which I love.
And they do this neighborhood series.
About the different neighborhoods in Milwaukee.
WHICH IS GREAT!
I love this! The station reaches all over the place thanks to the internet it shows the world that Milwaukee is truly full of diversity and neat little nooks and crannies.
So as I'm tooling around on their website I peruse the upcoming neighborhoods that will be profiled:
The neighborhoods, in no particular order, are Lindsay Heights, Clark Square, Martin Drive, Havenswoods, Walker’s Point, Harambee, and East Tosa.

What the what? While I know where some of these neighborhoods are...East Tosa?
Wauwautosa is a SUBURB of Milwaukee.
It is NOT Milwaukee.
Not to mention if you look at this map of Milwaukee neighborhoods, there are clearly more neighborhoods to profile, before we get into the suburbs.
I suppose I could be, and hope I am, wrong about the name East Tosa, and I hope it signifies a hidden gem somewhere I have never been.
But the likelihood of that is slim, I'm afraid.
I think it's even a bit more disheartening because I felt this station championed Milwaukee, and here it is pandering to it's moochy suburban cousins again.

These issues compounded the other night at a board meeting for our little old neighborhood association:
After the meeting was pretty much adjourned, one of the board members decided to talk about their trip to Arizona. They commented that they've noticed in "the south" that gated communities are a way of life.
I commented I didn't think that was a southern thing as much of a classist thing.
They went on to say how concerned they were in our neighborhood that they couldn't let their 5 year old daughter play outside because their fence wasn't six feet high.
And that they couldn't work in their bathing suit because their fence/our neighborhood wasn't walled off.
I would like to note that we live IN the city. Some would even say central city.
We, well at least me, are not about gating ourselves off from the rest of the city or other neighborhoods around us.
We are about welcoming and improving.
Greening and cleaning.
Not Gating and Hating.
What my favorite part of this exchange was that they actually thought nothing was wrong with thinking we could/should gate Cold Spring Park off from the rest of the city.
OMFG is all I have to say to that.
OMFG.
 

Baseball Stuff: Opening Day

As some of you may or may not know.
I'm a bit of a baseball fan.
I like to pride myself on a little bit of knowledge and a lot of quotes when it comes to watching games.
Sometimes I let my emotions get the best of me and I'll shout something off-color to the umpire.
But usually, I'm able to keep it kid-friendly and classy.
Because that is the kind of fan I am.

I'm also the kind of fan that goes to games to...
You guessed it.
WATCH the game.
I realize baseball games are full of fair-weather fans and opening day is like amatuer hour.
Fortunately for us, our seats have been in sections that seem to respect the game.
I even heard the guy next to me say "Too High."
Which was perfect.
And is from one of the greatest baseball comedies of all time, "Major League."

Unfortunately, all I heard for the second half of opening day was the guys behind me talking about waterproofing your basement.
Seriously.

Now E. and I talk in games, but we keep it between ourselves. We don't announce the conversation to the people next, in front of and behind us.

But not these rural Wisconsinites.
Oh they went on and on about waterproofing your basement, Christmas tree farms and each other's last name.
I wanted to stick my score-keeping pen in my ears.
When they did talk about the game it was to offer ill-begotten facts and opinions. Which is the yuge at games, I hate it, but it's a fact.
Unfortunately, the game didn't offer me much relief.
 The Crew lost by two which is an Opening Day first for me.
My fear was that this doesn't bode well for the rest of the season.
I still fear I may be right.

I apologize to the rest of my readers (the handful of you out there) that during baseball season this blog gets a little heavy with the game.

I'll try to keep it real though.
I swear.
Maybe.

This season I will try to warn you to my baseball heavy blogs with the above title "Baseball Stuff!"

Things I've Learned

I know.
I know.
It's been a while.
A real long while.

So much has happened.
I've made life decisions.
People have died.
I've some things:

• I've learned my insurance sucks.
• I've learned I truly want to go back to school.
• I've learned my love for pretty boys has only intensified.
• I've learned that maybe atheism (or agnosticism) isn't, maybe, that bad of an option for me.
• I've learned that death & dying is not how it is in the movies.
• I've learned that nothing is appropriate when it come to death/dying/funerals.
• I've learned that funerals are not planned with the dead person in mind, but with whoever is planning the funeral in mind.
• I've learned that I'm pretty awesome according to my nephew.
• I've learned that budgets get some getting used to, but aren't the worst thing in the world.
• I've learned that my parents, although almost divorced, are totes awesome.
• I've learned that no matter how old I am, I hate that I have friends who move away.
• I've learned that reading can still surprise me.
• I've learned that I still love having dates with myself.
• I've learned that I'm no longer 25, nor can I party like a 25 year old.
• I've learned that Pearl Jam is still amazing for all intensive purposes.

I think that pretty much brings us up to speed.
And now for the elaborations.
(You didn't think I was just going to leave you with that did you? Silly rabbit.)

I've learned my insurance sucks.
As some of you may know, I get my insurance through E. And as I'm sure most of you know, E works for Starbucks. Well thanks to this awesome recession, Starbucks felt the need to save more money, and in the process dick over their employees, with quite possibly the worlds worst insurance.

I have narrow, crooked ear canals. This means wax cannot come out of my ears like it does with other people. So it gets stuck in there and it makes me deaf. Not totes deaf, but it basically becomes impossible for me to eavesdrop on anyone's conversation, which is a great, great joy of mine. So when I was finally able to get onto E's insurance the first thing I did was schedule an appointment to get my ears cleaned out. I've done this numerous time before with the old insurance and this wasn't a problem, I would pay the $30 co-pay and call it a day. So imagine my surprise when I learned that there was no co-pay for this visit. The co-pay is figured out after the visit. Having no idea how insurance works I shrugged my shoulders and waited.

The JD/MD looked at my ears, confirmed that they were, indeed clogged, and brought in the MA to do the dirty work. I apologized profusely as it's a disgusting job, it has to be worse than looking at cooters.

Things are going great. I can hear! I can eavesdrop! I can turn down the volume on everything in the house! It's a miracle I say, A MIRACLE!

And then.
The bill comes.
And it's $140.
That's right, WITH INSURANCE.
I can hardly believe it and decide to wait to see if this is truly a bill or just a statement of benefits.
Well then the bill comes and it's still $140.
An irate Jj calls up the old insurance company to ask them WTF is going on.
A half an hour later I learn our insurance is great if I want to have a baby because the $4000 I have to spend for a co-pay to take place would be gone in an instant. But since I'm relatively healthy, and plan on going to the JD/MD once or twice a year (or never again as the case may be), having this insurance is an incredibly bad deal. E's paying about $260 a month for me to be on the insurance, which is only "good" if I get cancer, become pregnant or get raped/murdered.
SUCK.

I've learned I truly want to go back to school.
This is a true story.
It all began with my friends going back to school. There is nothing I love more than notebooks and pens and buying books for ridiculously academic classes.
LOVES IT.
So I did a little digging in regards to the UWM Modern Studies program. Which, yes, is a ridiculously academic route and basically if I get accepted it would mean I would become a college professor. But it would be studying everything I love and can only talk to select people about: theory! movies! culture!
Oh swoon swoon swoon.
But here is the tricky part:
Since I kind of haphazardly made my way through school the first time, doing fairly well in classes I enjoyed, writing the bare minimum for essays (but still getting good grades, mind you). I have almost nothing to get me into grad school.
Missing most notably:

• The academic paper that is at least 10 pages long: The graduate assistant told me I could submit the six page paper that I have, but I don't even like that paper, so I would just be submitting it because of it's length. E told me I should just write a brand new 10 page paper, which seemed incredibly daunting at first, but considering my hatred for the Twilight series and love of feminism I thought I could easily get it done.

• Three academic recommendation letters: Apparently everyone knows you don't need three "academic" academic rec. letters. Most people use an employer that can talk about your work ethic, your ability to learn, etc. But you do need at least two professors. And for someone who's been out of the college scene for five years, I thought, and so did my email contact, this could prove difficult.

But then, hark! She recommended something that seemed like a perfect fit:
Non-degree Specialty Student.
The application is $15, they are always accepting applications, I can basically take any class I want, and although she didn't say it in so many words, I do well in the classes get the profs to write me letters and maybe get a 10 page paper out of the process?
eh? Eh? EH?
The caveat is that most often there is 0% financial aid, so I would be paying out of pocket, so that is a little daunting, but also so exciting. Because if there is one thing I think I would be good at, it's being a professional student.

I've learned my love for pretty boys has only intensified.
I know this will seem like I'm forsaking all of my previous hatred-filled sentiments for the Twilight series, but here it is:
I think Robert Pattinson is Totes McGotes dreamsicle pie.
Sears Tower.
I've now taken to watching Twilight on HBO and fast forwarding to the parts that he is in.
Is he a total pretty boy?
Of course.
Plus, I thought the movie did a fairly good job of adapting the book to the screen. And let us not forget that I didn't start hating-hating the books until 2-ish, but mostly 3 and 4. This is also apparent in the second film, which I just saw. Not nearly as good as the first, and a little too cheeseball for me. Directed like a horror film, and Carter Burwell didn't do the music.
And here's some trivia for you, Carter Burwell also did the music for perhaps the prettiest pretty boy movie ever made: Velvet Goldmine.
It still doesn't make me like the books any better, although I do kind of like Alice's hair.

I've learned that maybe atheism (or agnosticism) isn't, maybe, that bad of an option for me.
Shit's gonna get deep here.
As you may have guessed from the list of things I've learned posted above, my grandma died.
My grandma, and her four daughters are all extremely religious. My dad used to be extremely religious, but has fallen away from that. I'm not here to judge other people's beliefs, but watching her hang on, hang on, hang on, even though the doctors expected her to go within hours of all of us being there, two days later she was still "alive" and I'm using that term to indicate that she was breathing. And I'm looking at her, and listening to my aunts' pray and I'm thinking, this isn't about god. This is about science. This is her body doing everything it can to keep her alive, because that is what your body does. If god wanted her to come "home" (and let me just say I'm completely sick of that terminology) he would have taken her. Presumably faster than he did. What happened/didn't happen that he needed her to stay here?I'm not here to sit and argue the ins and outs of belief systems, and I do like the thought of an afterlife, but at the end there was no beauty or grace. It just happened in a hospital bed while her kids were sleeping  most of her kids were sleeping, her eldest was awake.


I've learned that death & dying is not how it is in the movies.
Oh but how I wish it were.
So as it is, the matriarch is dying and that brings EVERYONE here to Milwaukee. Which is ridick, because you would think something happier could do that like a holiday but instead it's to say goodbye, and we hope/are told that she can hear us because hearing is the last sense to go. Which I also got so sick of hearing.
I was glad that my brother came down, however, as we always have a good time and feel like we are the outcasts because we come the boy-child, and we lived "up north." And he and I are never afraid to be inappropriate.
Plus he brought my nephew, who is hilarious, so I was glad to have some light-heartedness there. We both decided that if this WERE a movie. E would proprose and that would wake Grandma up OR Grandma would die but our parents would get back together.
We laugh through the pain in this family.
All I wanted to do for this whole affair was have a video camera and record everything. Record the inappropriate jokes my brother and I were making, record the hysterics of my cousin, EW, record everyone going to town on their subs in the waiting room, because while we were waiting for grandma to die for 8 hours most of us forgot to eat. I wish someone would have recorded the stories that were told or not told as they weren't deemed "appropriate" to the situation. I felt it would have made a really good documentary, if not for dysfunctional families everywhere, at least for ours. Maybe the next time someone dies. Meh?
(Too soon?)

I've learned that nothing is appropriate when it come to death/dying/funerals.
My grandma was a completely ridiculous person. When she was with it, she loved hosting Christmas, loved having visitors, was fieircely independent and told inappropriate stories to anyone who would listen:

• The one where she didn't know gay people were real.
• The one where she had lesbians and a collie living across the street.
• The one where about her wedding night.
• The one about anal.
• The one about oral.
• The one about when she thought she was pregnant even though she never took off her underpants (I presume someone was dry-effing here).
• The one where she smoked pot.
• The one where she would drink a case of beer, and then cook all night.
• The one where she shot holes in the ceiling.

None of these were deemed appropriate to even discuss while reminiscing about her in private company. Sorry, I didn't want to continuously think about her just watching game shows while she lived by herself. I preferred thinking about when she was able to drive and be ridiculous. So I did that, I just did it in my head, or with my dad, rather than with anyone else.


I've learned that funerals are not planned with the dead person in mind, but with whoever is planning the funeral in mind.
My grandma, being the frank lady that she was, talked about how she wanted her funeral to go. She wanted specific music played, she wanted people to laugh and to sing.
Needless to say, this was not how her funeral went. Before the actual service, some music was on, but I can't remember what. I do remember I heard "Bridge Over Troubled Water" which she liked, but that was it. There was no Jim Loving, no Statler Brothers (they were on her list she had specifically written, "Even Jim Loving!!!" because she knew how we all felt about him). I did hear some Statler Brothers after the service by my mom and I thought that was kind not enough. Which is why I'm determined to put the F-U-N back in funeral. Mark my words. You will have a good time. Of course I guess it all depends who plans it because if my wishes are not followed, I will haunt you. And it will not be a cute haunting, it will be a horror movie haunting. My favorite directive that came was that if you wanted to say something at the funeral you had to have it pre-approved and it had to be christ-centered. I wasn't planning on saying anything anyway, becasue I don't go for grand shows of emotion, and I don't need to wax poetic and what an awesome lady she was. Not that there is anything wrong in wanting to do that, my cousin KJC did write and read something that was quite lovely, however. But I definitely didn't want to say anything that had to be "approved." Homey don't play that.

And in case you're keeping score at home, I wasn't a huge fan of the "Try Jesus" booklets that were laying out next to the cheese and crackers. Nor was I a fan of them being brought to Famous Dave's after the internment (it was her favorite restaurant) and being placed on the table. Seriously? Come on.


I've learned that I'm pretty awesome according to my nephew.
Somehow I've become besties with my newphew S. I don't know what I did to earn this award, but at the big dinner we had the night she didn't die but thought she would, S stole my dad's chair and announced to his mom and dad that he was going to sit next to uncle jj, after taking forever to pick out what he wanted for dinner, he signed Z's cast, announced to us that he wanted an x-ray machine so he can look at his bones (one with wheels), and that he wanted a popsicle, becuase he loves popsicles.
"Who doesn't love popsicles?" I asked him. He then proceeded to ask the table if they loved popsicles. Which was hysterical. He was my buddy at the hospital too, playing go fish with me and wondering where my whereabouts were whenever I was not in sight. Heartzoes.


I've learned that budgets get some getting used to, but aren't the worst thing in the world.
It's true. We actually have, nay, use our savings account now. We actually can see some stuff getting done in our house in the next couple of months (might the foyer be complete one day?). We might actually be able to afford me going to school with no financial aid, provided we stick to the budget. Both E and I are horrible at having cash on us. We've grown accustomed to not being able to use the debit card unless we are 1000% sure that we do not have the money reserved for anything else (which it usually is). So when E has money he wants to spend it immediately. I only want to spend it after I've had it about a week, like if it's been in my wallet a week, it's time to go spend it, usually on booze with PO while watching a business deal go down with the hipster Jonas brothers.

I've learned that my parents, although almost divorced, are totes awesome.
Okay so this is because there was a death, and I'm full of sentimental tacky crap--"I Just Called To Say I Love You." But it's true, even though my parents are currently going through the longest divorce known to mankind, I think they are awesome. M. laughed at my fake mourning outfit, and D forgave me for not answering the phone at 6:30 in the morning (it was turned off in my defense). They are both hilarious and I feel like although I'm a disappointment to myself on a consistent basis, I'm not a disppointment to them.
Or.
If I am a disppointment to them, they hide it extremely well.


I've learned that no matter how old I am, I hate that I have friends who move away.
It's true. I've lived through this most of my adult life, and I still can't seem to get over it.
First J&P, leaving a gaping whole in our hearts and livers, then E&M whose parties provided years of storytelling and ridick-ness, and now M&Z--better known as my CSPBFFs. I realize that this is all very selfish of me, and that this is for their greater good (or so they say. jk jk jk) and I'm acting like a five year old, but I don't like it. I prefer sedentary people and cannot begin to tell you the excitement I felt when I learned that PO wanted to go to grad school here in MKE. Because it means, if I get into grad school, I will have a college buddy.
Anys.
To M&Z (CSPBFFs):
I wish you the most of luck in selling your fabulous homes and I'm sure we will run into each other someday on the flip side.
(I tried to make that as cool as possible. I'm pretty sure I failed miserably.)


I've learned that reading can still surprise me.
As some of you know, I've taken on reading all the books in the Washington Park libes. Okay maybe not ALL the books. I'm not reading the instruction manuals to C+++ or the Idiot's guide to Java but I'm going in order alphabetically for ficitons and I'm currently in the zeroes for non-ficitons. While I expected to find some interesting reads, I have to say I've read books I never would have read (Arab-American Women's fiction! historical fiction! gay-esque fiction! okay so I probably would have read that one) and learned a thing or two in the process. I'm currently in what I have to call "the unexplained" section of the dewey decimal system as the last couple of non-fiction books I have read have been about the unknown. Currently I'm reading about the Japanese equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle, which I actually did a presentation on as a 4th grader. Full circle, kiddos. I can't sing the praises of the library enough, and that is the one thing I miss about being unemployed (okay maybe it's not THE one thing I miss, but it's A thing I miss), is going to the library and hanging.
I've really taken to reading rather than watching drivel on the telly, which I rather enjoy, because while I do enjoy drivel, especially that which features pretty men, it can feel like your brain is turning into gelatin.
And as a strict vegetarian, that doesn't sit well with me.

I've learned that I still love having dates with myself.
Back in college, when I was single, I would date myself all the time. I loved it. I would take myself out to dinner, or maybe rent a movie or make something really good to eat. Or maybe just read. Anyway, it was great and I loved it and I hadn't had one in a long time, or at least something that I designated as a date with myself. But then...
A couple of weeks ago, I found myself in the precarious position of needing a ride after a night with the girls. Luckily someone was going by way of Mayfair and I had a luncheon date at one there, and while I thought I would get there at 11 in the morning, I ended up getting there at 9-ish. Never to fear. I had a bagel and some coffee and as a "reader" I had a book with me. Making my Sunday morning quite enjoyable. I read for about an hour and then I remembered they show movies for $5 before noon on the weekends. So I mosied up the stairs to see if there was anything I could fathom paying $5 for.
And there it was. Two choices: Sherlock Holmes or It's Complicated.
I couldn't for the life of me remember what It's Complicated was about so I went with Sherlock Holmes, which I might say, was pure delight. Robert Downey Jr. is awesome, it had a great occult twist which I loved, and I'm starting to like Rachel McAdams, who is Canadian, if you were wondering.
I recommend to anyone who likes British things, action and a decent story.
By the time the movie ended it was time to go to, what now was the last luncheon with my grandma, but it was a good time none the less. I probably will never have timing that perfect ever again, but it made me realize how movies and dates by yourself are great.


I've learned that I'm no longer 25, nor can I party like a 25 year old.
What a drag it is getting old.
Cue sitar music.
So the reason I found myself in the position of needing a ride, which ultimately led to a great Sunday was because I got so smashed on Saturday night that I couldn't walk.
I passed out while sitting up, had difficulties crawling and could not for the life of me muster the wherewithal to walk outside with a friend who was offering to drive me home. PO, bestie that she is let me stay over where I woke up feeling fine and ready to take on the world.
The saddest part was that I didn't even think I drank that much. But there I was the almost 30 year-old passed out like the olds that I am.
Boozeoes.
Boozoes.
I've tempered myself quite well since and am preparing for the liver destruction that is WFVIII--The Ocho.


I've learned that Pearl Jam is still amazing for all intensive purposes.
I cannot get enough of their album "Backspacer." Do you like rock and roll? Then you will like this album. My hope is that they will tour and I will get to see them yet again, because they have yet to play a lackluster show. Does this make me a huge nerd? Most likely, but I'm not going to deny it. It's good rock music. And I like, nay, love good rock music.

The Great Snow Hysteria of '09

I'm sure we will have more snow hysteria this winter.
But seriously.
I really can't stress this enough.
There are about a million people in Milwaukee.
And I'm using Milwaukee collectively.
As in outlying areas and suburbs.
How is that you all FREAK OUT at the mention of an impending storm.
All the weather teams go into snow apocalypse mode.
Here are the facts, kids.
We live in Wisconsin.
A state that has a football field that is affectionately known as the Frozen Tundra.
We get snow.
We get ice.
We get rain.
We get sleet.
We get frozen rain.
We get temperatures that are below zero with and without the wind chill factor.
Or windshield factor as I used to say as child.
Sometimes it's a lot of snow.
Sometimes it's not so much.
Sometimes people have off of school/work because of snow.
Sometimes people drive like dickfaces in the snow.
We have to shovel.
We have to dig cars out of the snow.
We slip and fall on the ice because assy people don't shovel.

These are the facts.
Unless we are getting 5 feet of snow, i.e. the second ice age.
There is no need for all of this hysteria.
The streets will get plowed. It might take a while.
You might have to cancel an appointment.
Or go to work late.
The bottom line is, the freakouts need to stop.
And this is all people are talking about.
I feel like I'm in the movie Groundhog Day every year.
Because EVERY YEAR this happens.

Storm of the Century!
Storm of the Centruy!
And I wake up this morning to find that I can still see blades of grass through the snow in my backyard, the roads are wet, but I was still able to drive the speed limit.
And that was it.
Sure it's supposed to get a bit colder (like tonight!) and then the wet roads will freeze and it will be a little dangerous to go out. But most likely this will happen tonight, when we are sleeping.
And most likely roads will be plowed/salted/drive-able tomorrow when we all have to go to work and do it again.

Has no one read "The Long Winter" by Laura Ingalls Wilder? If the Ingalls can get through white-out snow (they had to have a rope from the house to the barn to find their way!), we can get through our first real snow fall.
Icy roads and all.

As a side note, it is snowing heavily right now.
Nothing that would stop me from going anywhere.
Mostly because I know how to drive and dress for the snow.

And while we're on this topic.
Can we please, PLEASE stop complaining about the cold.
And can we please stop making comments like "Where's the global warming here?"
If you don't like all four seasons, please move.
There are other states that are warmer and I would love to not hear you complain incessantly from October to April about the weather.

In other news.
Tiger Woods isn't Jesus!
How is this a shock to people?
Really?
Really?
After EVERYTHING we know about celebrities, nay, celebrities that are in the public eye and idolized, how is this a shocker?
I love the comment, "It's not that he had an affair. It's the amount of affairs he had."
Really.
So you think when a celebrity gets caught, it's just super unfortunate bad luck.
The first time they would ever cheat and they get caught.
I'm gonna go with a no.
The comment I really did love, however, was written by a former call-girl (writer for the Daily Beast) who stated that Tiger's problem was that he slept with star-fuckers. Okay so she didn't use the term star-fucker, but she stated he slept with people who wanted to be on his arm. If he would have chose a classy call girl, this wouldn't be an issue (most likely) because call girls don't stalk their clients, cause problems at home. Because, apparently, there is a call girl code of conduct, which is protecting the client at all costs.

Which makes me think Tiger is an even bigger narcissist, because he wants to be with ladies who actually WANT him, not just pretend to want him.

And since I love segways (the literary device, not the motorized device), at one of Obama's town hall meetings, a kid who looked as if he were about 16 asked the president if he's thought about decriminalizing gambling, prostitution, marijuana, and other non-violent victimless crimes. And while the whole crowd laughed at this idea, "Silly child" they were most likely thinking.

But.
Why not?
To quote E, "It would be political suicide."
Would it?
Would bringing us out of the recession be political suicide?
People need to think out of the box for this. We are no longer an industrial country.
And what makes money?
And has been around since biblical times?
Gambling, prostitution, and drugs.
I've been saying it for years and I'll say it again.
I think if you legalize marijauna, tax the shit out of it, and donezo!
Economy fixed!
Is it that simple?
God I hope not, because if it were that simple we should all be kicking ourselves for not doing this 24 years ago.
But it is something I think needs to be looked into.
Even the police chief on Law and Order smokes pot for her cancer!

And prostitution, why not have it be legal?
I don't understand that at all.
Because it's sex?
Because it's sex out of marriage?
We're still up in arms about this?
Seriously?
Bah Humbug.

Why I love Don Draper

Maybe I was in a weird place night, drinking boxed wine and eating homemade tostadas (I really don't think I will ever buy pre-made tostada shells again!), E was in the other room and I settled in for a night of catching up on my favorite television shows.

I should preface by saying that while by and large I do love Mad Men, some shows are kind of hit or miss. But this episode.
This episode drew me in.
It was almost like a movie, complete with happy-ish ending.
I loved it.

And.

I'm gonna say it.

I love Don Draper.
I love his character, even though everything in me as a feminist says I shouldn't.
But he's dreamy!
He's a bad boy!
Sometimes he likes his kids!
He's successful!
He's good at his job!

So while my love of Don Draper is unabashed, I can't help wondering why I like him. Do his looks trump everything? It's similar to the movie High Fidelity.
You're rooting for John Cusack.
But why?
He's a horrible horrible person.
And even though you know this about him, something still draws you in.
Is it cos you know deep down John Cusack=Lloyd Dobler?
I don't know.
I can't explain it. I have no such history with Don Draper.
Nothing in the show indicates that he will eventually be a good person.
He continues to drink and smoke like a banshee (but who looks better doing it? eh? Eh? EH?)
He continues to have mistresses.
He has started taking a more active role in his kids' life, which I guess is a bonus, but could also be related to him effing the teacher.
Yet there I was enthralled in this season-ender.

So.
This last episode got me thinking.
Do I hate Betty simply because she's with Don and I'm a jealous viewer?
She gets to look at Don the whole time the tv is off and I'm relegated to just viewing him for 44 minutes on a Sunday night?
I will be the first to admit.
I'm a totally jealous person, being a perpetual have-not, it's really REALLY easy to do.
But then it hit me.
I don't like Betty's character because she's a thank-less whiner.
She's weak.
She lets thinks happen TO her rather than just doing them.
Even her affair is/was passive.
There is no depth to her, unlike the other female characters on the show.
Rather than moving up, like every other main woman character on the show, she's moving laterally, or stationarily (is that even a word?).
It's like a friend that just keeps making the same mistake with a different name.
Except she's not my friend, but yet I have to hear about it constantly (or at least every Sunday for 44 minutes).
I know!
It's like my annoying co-worker who is a total martyr for EVERY effing cause in the world, and you would never talk to this person otherwise, but there you are, trapped on a lunch break and you have to hear all of her "Woe is me" tales, except you could give two flying f-bombs about her life.
That is exactly how the Betty Draper situation is.
Except I can turn Mrs. Draper off.
I never do, but the option is always there.

The Never-Ending Recession

And I'm back.
I wish I had lots to say.
What I've been up to.
What's the latest news from Joe.
Unfortunately.
Unemployment is now in double digits, and I have to say.
I feel kind of left out.
Because technically I should be part of that scene, you know?
Ooh!
Ooh!
I DID make the realization that I am probably one of the 9 million UNDERemployed today.
So thank god for that.
This blog is not for naught.


It turns out that people still love to party during the recession.
We still have beer and boxed wine left over from Halloween!
SCORE!
And as an added bonus we spent less at the grocery store than I expected.
Hizzah!

The party, after much internal worrying (why I do these things to myself, I will never know) was a smashing success.
And by smashing, I mean everyone was sufficiently smashed by the end of the night.
And we were performing smash hits of every era.
Without the karaoke television.
Because apparently that tv was another victim of the recession.
We don't know why it doesn't work anymore, but it doesn't.
JT had the brills idea that we should just sing without the tv, because this is what the party derails to anyway, and since I was lit from the delicious sangria M&Z had served at the party of the first part, I was all in for this.

I got to catch up with old mates, my house was full of dogs for part of the party, and all my besties were there.
Well.
Almost all of them:
My mom couldn't make it because of my aunt's party.
LN couldn't make it because there is a recession and gas is expensive.
MG couldn't make the party of the second part because she had KG duty.
Being a parent sure cuts into the fun having time.
I know this much is true.

In other news.
E and I are still broke, but I think we're getting better at it.
The party was hard to finance but I don't think people even realized we didn't have the ridick spread we usually do, and I have to give M&Z major props for having some of the most delicious food ever served at a party. DELICIOUS!
SCRUMTULESCENT!

And in frugal gourmet news:
We learned how to can.
Aww yeah.
Color us thrifty.
Or possibly poisoned with botulism.
We don't know!
While we don't have a pressure CANNER, we have a pressure COOKER.
A pressure cooker with no gague. So we really have no idea what pressure things were cooked at, or how long REALLY things should be cooked for.
We found out our pressure cooker (most pressure cookers, really) cook at about 15psi.
So we're hoping this one does too.
We then found a recipe similar to the one we were making and copied the cooking time.
And then we canned.
Awwww lawdy did we can.

We're hoping we'll be fine as there are many other ways to get botulism that I just read about and since I haven't gotten botulism yet, I'm thinking I might have an immunity.
Jk folks, jk.
But seriously.
8 pints of tomato sauce later we are stocked for this winter!!!
False.
We are stocked for like 2 weeks.
Maybe.
But we are very exicted (already) for next summer to can salsa, and more sauce using super fly and super fresh ingredients.
PLUS! Since we now know how easy it is to can, I think I will ask for a REAL canner from Jolly Old St. Nicholas. And then my mind will be free of botulism worries.

Frugal fall gourmet:
Made my annual batch of pumpkin-curry soup.
So delicious and it really makes a lot.
I WOULD can it, but darnzoes, I made it with butter.
And I have no idea if pumpkin soup would can well even if I made it with olive oil.
Things to think about people.
Well if you're poor anyway.