Sin City by way of Second City

Last night, a friend and I discovered a delightful little neighborhood bar / restaurant, Fat Cat, which may just become my new go-to place for low-key dinner and drinks. After that, I discovered yet another great thing...burlesque shows! We saw The Flaming Dames in their "Vegas, Baby!" show at The Spot, another local bar / restaurant pretty much down the street from me. I'd never been to a burlesque show before and I've gotta say, there's really nothing not entertaining about comedy, booze, and pastie-covered boobies. A couple of the women were a bit too thin and blonde for my liking but Blackjack Betty and Lady Di made up for it right nice.

Today, I rediscovered why I can't be one of those people who spends their entire weekend drinking because between the copious amounts of tasty Blue Moons consumed and getting to bed at nearly 4 a.m., I've been pretty close to being completely useless. I did, however, get around to finally ordering some dresses online for an upcoming work thing. Every year for their Managing Director meeting, they have it at one of the offices and this year, it's being held in Chicago. This means all of the MDs coming and all of the employees in the Chicago office are treated to a catered dinner on stage at The Pritzker Pavilion. So come June 2nd, I have to get myself all fancied-up and spend the evening wining and dining with company folk. I'm not really looking forward to that as much as mingling with those from work who are actually friends and spending what will hopefully be a gorgeous evening in the park. Here's hoping I'll be stylin' in a new summery, fun, flirty frock!

Hopefully, tomorrow I'll make up for today's laziness by by dragging my ass to the gym, pickin' up my apartment, finishing Snuff, and reverting back to elementary school and writing a little review of it to help me decide if I like it or think it's hideous. I'm about half-way through and am still not really sure what I think of it. Monday, I have an 8-hour hotline shift but being a holiday, I can take it from home, which means I can really do whatever I feel like doing as long as my phone is nearby.

Three-day weekends are lovely.

oh, the joys of my workplace

After a brief lunch discussion with a couple co-workers, when I returned to work, I researched "why they call it going commando" and sent them the following interesting facts about "going commando:"

1. A way for women to avoid having a panty line

2. A way to stimulate sexual arousal without anyone knowing (for girls, at least since we can hide it but you boys are obvious when you get all hot and bothered)

3. Also a term for masturbating (like we need another euphemism for that!)

4. Army explanation #1: Since battle is so intense, they would often "go commando" so that you didn't shit your underwear and could boas that you didn't shit your pants.

5. Army explanation #2: Since a lot of soldiers spend time in tropical, moist environments, they often went commando so they would avoid "crotch rot" and things such as anal itching, chafed penis, jock itch, (and some people believe) infertility.

Which ended with my suggesting that my male co-worker continue to go commando so if he and our IT guy (who I call his boyfriend 'cause I think he secretly wants him) ever decide to plant their seed in a surrogate and have a child, it will hopefully be easier.

Because "Trent, I care about you and your sperm!"

Inappropriateness, thy name is Janelle.

CNN, you're all class, baby

Clinton Hears Sermon on Infidelity

You know where the news is here? No? Are you sure you can't find the newsworthiness here?

That's because there isn't an ounce of it. I'm not a Hillary supporter but I do believe this is Exhibit #43,948 as to just what kind of royal shaft treatment she's getting as a woman who oh my god! dares run for the highest political office in the country.

If Bill hadn't have boinked someone other than his wife 10+ years ago, this wouldn't even be in the news. But since he did, the only possible reason this little tidbit has for existing in the "news" is to further humiliate her.

Here's to you, CNN.

Tools.

bla bla subject line bla

My semi-addiction to all things scentastic finally caused me to cave and try out Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab. And if I could sit around all day just smelling myself, I would. Because I want to make sweet, sweet (yet dirty) love to my oils. Today, I'm wearing Lolita, a lovely mix of "glittering heliotrope, honeysuckle, orange blossom and lemon verbena," which makes me feel very...subtly sexy and summery. Tomorrow, I'll test out the Bordello, which smells fucking fantasic in the little vile and hopefully the "bawdy plum with amaretto, burgundy wine and black currant" will smell just as tasty on me. Then, I'll try Perversion, which doesn't smell as much like I thought it would in the vile but once it's on skin, could always be a bit different. 'Cause really, "smoky rum and black tobacco with a whisper of steamy leather with a splash of crystalline chardonnay, layered over a sensual, sweet, and deceptively magnetic base of tonka" has got to be good. The others don't smell particularly fantastic in their viles but I'll try those later too and see.

And now, I twiddle my thumb for the next 8-ish hours or so. Joy.

i better find a beret...

so that I can throw it on and play my part in It's A Small World.

Every few mornings, a guy gets on the bus and I think, "I swear, that kid went to St. Bonaventure." He looks like a guy that hung out with the boyfriend of one of the girls I lived with my senior year. But by the time we get to his stop, the bus is usually full enough that he just pushes his way to the back (as good bus etiquette dictates) but now and then, we look at each other with that, "don't I know you" look. Finally, this morning, he had no choice but to stand in the front and he asked if I went to St. Bonaventure (which of course, I did) and we chatted a bit. Turns out he works at some real estate company in the Loop and like me, keeps in touch with just about nobody from college. I remember him being in our apartment now and then simply because he hung out with Phil (the then-boyfriend of my then-friend) but I don't really remember much other than he was always perfectly nice when he was around.

Neat-o-riffic.

After watching Women's Murder Club last night (not an Emmy winner of a show but delightfully simple and entertaining, along with starring Angie Harmon, whom I believe to be super HOT), I was all excited to curl up in bed and listen to my recently-purchased Counting Crows album, Saturday Nights & Sunday Mornings. The idea behind the album is that it's broken up into a Saturday nights section, when one goes out in search of sin and debauchery and then Sunday mornings, when you hope to find yourself again. So I wanted to veg in bed and listen to it in its entirety and in the order on the album. Which Apple could make a bit easier by not automatically alphabetizing tracks on an album. I have to listen to it within my "purchased" playlist and not by its own album, which doesn't really matter much but still...who sits down and thinks, "I'm gonna listen to music alphabetically?" Anyhoo. My stupid ass fell asleep very early on Sunday morning. But from what I did listen to, I still believe the Counting Crows have some of the best lyrics ever put to song.

And so begins my day of twiddling my thumbs with nothing to do at work but wait for my mom and aunt to get here. They're coming for a long weekend and should be at Midway at 6:45 tonight, which means this may be the longest day ever!