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"If you can laugh at yourself loud and hard every time you fall, people will think you're drunk."Links
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Happy Mother’s Day to this fabulous woman (1977 version).
Two and a half weeks of web posting issues later, my review of Zooey Deschanel’s new (and less-than-fabulous) indie flick, Gigantic, is finally up on venuszine.com.
Her Twitter may be annoying as hell and her show may sometimes get downright embarrassing to watch, but nothing is stopping me from rushing home tomorrow night to tune into Oprah interviewing John and Elizabeth Edwards at their sprawling North Carolina abode.
Affair details? Illegitimate child? Yes, please.
As much as I love sinking my teeth into good political marital affiar scandal, I am always amazed at how much people reveal to Oprah during interviews, especially ones where so many personal questions are asked of the subject. I’d love to see just one interview where Oprah gets smacked for asking something too personal.
Nothing gets my juices flowing quite like seeing a strapping young gentlemen hack a giant lugge on the sidewalk. Almost every morning during my walk to the train, like clockwork, I will see a young man who is walking a good 20 feet ahead of me pause mid-Rico Suave stride and spit onto the adjacent pavement, leaving myself and a handful of other young women completely bewildered. And disgusted.
Seriously, why are there men who think this is an attractive or masculine thing to do? Please, STOP DOING THIS. You are becoming increasingly more hideous with each spit and each step.
I’ve been seeing these everywhere around school lately, and I can’t help but feel like I am in third grade again. I would say it’s kind of cute, except I’m in college and people have to be complete morons to not know that you can, in fact, spread influenza to your co-worker if you hack all over their keyboard while they’re gone during their lunch break. Whoops.
Looks like this B is the one spreading swine flu all over the Chicagoland area.
one month from now? yes, please.
Here’s a glimpse at a typical day at The Chronicle, all shot on my nifty little Canon PowerShoot!
Watching one dumbass interview another dumbass is something that vacillates between being really entertaining and incredibly uncomfortable. Last night, after Oxygen decided to cease rerun after rerun of The Bad Girls Club (the only show that ever seems to be on that channel), the Trya Show came on.
Anyone who knows me well is aware of my extreme dislike for this woman. In any other circumstance, I would have quickly turned the channel, but when her dramatic introduction revealed that she would be interviewing Bristol Palin’s baby daddy, I knew I had to watch.
Watching Levi Johnston speak is like waiting for Elmer’s glue on construction paper to dry. I couldn’t tell if he was really high (that may be entirely necessary when speaking to Tyra Banks), or if he was really just that stupid. Even more painful? Listening to Tyra try to break the awkward silences with some of the most ridiculous questions.
I think it’s safe to say that I live in Chicago’s most boring neighborhood.
Today, I had the great pleasure of doing an Everyblock search on my lovely Lakeview zip code. I say “lovely” sarcastically, because the first several listings in my search results yielded a great number of bank robberies—one that just occured at 10:30 this morning on Diversey. Yuppies with their yorkies getting their money taken away…wah wah.
For those of you who aren’t familiar with Everyblock, it’s a pretty nifty little web gem. Select one of the major cities listed, type in your zip code and you are immediately greeted with a surprisingly comprehensive list of all the happenings in your ‘hood—crimes, business and restaurant reviews, new business openings, real estate listings, photos and updated business licenses. The site even goes as far as reporting crimes as miniscule as telephone threats.
Aside from the number of robberies and street thefts (which is typical for really any neighborhood in the city), nothing too exciting seems to be occuring in my zip code. I think this means I need to move soon—preferably to an area of town with a little bit more exciting criminal activity. Am I really that demented?
Less than six weeks until graduation, and desperation has gotten the best of me.
1. My career aspirations are dunzo. There’s nothing quite like hearing that Cat Fancy Magazine is hiring for editorial positions to make me realize that the economy (and this beloved journalism industry) is in the shitter. While this most likely won’t be the case forever, I still can’t help but find myself wondering if I would be in this same position right now had I just settled on an entirely different career. I keep having nightmares that the peak of my career will be me as an editor of a church newsletter, or a copy editor for Woodworking Daily.
2. I am an emotional lunatic. Over the past few months, I have managed to call my mother roughly three times per week in tears. Depressing, yes. But even more than that, pathetic! Luckily, I have the kind of mother who has no problem telling me I am a lunatic for being so emotional. Thanks, mom. Always keeping it real.
3. My sighs have become more audible. Everyone I work with already knows this about me, but sometimes, for no apparent reason, I let out a loud sigh in the midst of a hushed newsroom just to have a handful of people gawk at me or ask me what’s wrong. While it is honestly an unintentional act 95% of the time, I will say that my sighs these days are just masking my need to open the window and scream onto Wabash Ave.
4. I have been able to fall asleep without the aid of Tylenol PM. I know most people would probably thing this is a great thing, especially since I have been a Tylenol PM advocate since high school, but this is a monumental occasion in my life. Lately, I’ve been feeling so exhausted, overworked and emotionally spent that I forget to pop my nightly meds, causing me to pass out on my couch with all the lights on.
