Friends

I called my neighbor Beth tonight to ask her which dumpster is ours because I'm sure I've been using the wrong one, and then so I'd have an excuse to say, "Oh hey, by the way, would you like to, I don't know, be my friend some time?" I just think it would be nice to have someone to go out to dinner with once in a while, rather than just eating here alone every night. Anyway, she wasn't home, so I got her answering machine that says, "Hi, you've reached Beth and Tristan..." Tristan's the cat. So even though I think she's way too smart for me, because she's a scientist and I think science is magic, we'll always have cats. In our non-existent friendship in my mind. (This is how our conversations will go: Her: "I had a real break-through in my lab today." Me: "What's the deal with that Sanjaya girl?" Her: "...Let's talk about cats now.") Also, her apartment is right across the courtyard from mine, so I think it would be funny to hang signs in our windows for each other, like, "I'm watching you," or, "Bring me some chips."

I got a call tonight from another guy I met at the Redhead the same night I met Allen. Dan and I swing danced to, I don't know, Billy Joel, probably. He's married, but his wife wasn't with him. That night he gave me his phone number and told me to call him when I moved here, but the next day I thought, "Well I'll never talk to him again," and deleted his number from my phone. Tonight he said, "You were supposed to call me!" Then: "I have a buddy I want to set you up with," to which I said no thanks, but he told me to call him next week and we'll go out. Maybe his wife will come, otherwise I'll start to think she exists only in his mind. (In that case, I'll bring Beth.) Oh, and apparently he lives downtown near the Redhead and graciously offered to let me sleep at his place if I'm ever out "partying." Who does he think I am? Lohan?

The Melting Pot

My dear friend Val was in the city yesterday, so we met for dinner downtown at The Melting Pot. It was so good to see a familiar face and to have someone to laugh with. We ate a lot and had the cheapest bottle of wine. Then I of course got lost on the way home because my Google Maps directions had me take a road that appeared to end. After all the panicking and map-gripping, I got home way past my bedtime and was too tired to iron anything for today, so I wore the same shirt I wore last night because I figured, "I only had it on for a few hours. WHAT'S WRONG WITH THAT?" Well, a lot. It wasn't until I got to work that I realized I reeked of coq au vin fondue (which I'm pretty sure was confused for BO at some point) and had chocolate stains down the front.

I signed up for the Office Olympics yesterday because it's the funniest thing I've ever heard of. A woman from somewhere in the company sent an email to every department asking for ten more participants. I thought, "Who wouldn't want to do this?" until I found out I have to be there at 6am—after I volunteered, of course. I emailed her today and asked her what sort of events I should start training for, and she said, "For sure we will be doing these three events again: the Ream Race, Chicken Frisbee, and the Chair-iot race. Three new events will be added (of these, one is still up for discussion and to be decided on): Build a Binder Castle, Collation Quest, Create a Logo with Post-Its, and/or The Recycling Contest." HAHAHAHAHAHA. She told me to stop by her cubicle if I want to look at pictures from last year or borrow the DVD, so I'll do that tomorrow when I don't smell so bad. Also, apparently the olympics were on TV last year. I don't know what channel, but I'm assuming ESPN.



I walked past The Redhead last night on the way to the restaurant. It's my favorite place.


Val bought me a book about Chicago (and wrapped it with Amy Sedaris's face).

What the el? (hahahaI'msofunny)

Last night I met Allen the Real Estate Agent (whom I had originally met at The Redhead Piano Bar when I was here last month for my interview and when I was SLIGHTLY—just a little bit—loaded, so I didn't exactly remember much about him) at Joe's Sports Bar in Chicago to see a cover band. At The Redhead he gave me his card and said he'd help me find an apartment, if he could, which he couldn't, but we kept in touch anyway. He seemed friendly and considerate via e-mail, so I agreed to go out with him for what I considered to be a non-date. He offered to pick me up at my apartment, but I said no, I'd take the el, so he couldn't kidnap me and wouldn't know where I live in case he wanted to kidnap me later (because that's where my mind goes). So I met him there and he was sort of boring and said things like "anyhoo" and "Okay, let's bounce" [meaning, for those of you who aren't black, "Let's go"] at midnight when I told him I wanted to leave. The place was really crowded and I don't like to have to birth my way through drunk people with full cups of beer when I go to the restroom, which, as you all know, is often. Plus the music wasn't that great. So anyhoo, he offered to give me a ride back, and I was all, "No, I'm an independent woman," and walked to the el stop where these two CTA women said, "No north-bound trains, young lady" to which I said, "WHAT!" They gave me vague directions to a different train line, so I walked and walked and didn't find it and started to feel nervous about wandering around a strange city alone at night. So I turned around and walked back to the el station and said, "Yeah, I can't find it" and we argued for a few minutes about how awful their directions were, until the woman said, "FINE. Here's what you can do: get on the south-bound train, get off at Lake, go up and across the thing and take the elevator up to the brown line." I didn't understand those directions either, but I got on the train anyway. This is really long, so I'll just get to the point. It took me two hours to get home (at 2am), and when I finally got back on the red line, I was worried I wouldn't make it on time for the last purple line train to Evanston. But I made it, and as I waited thirty minutes for the purple, I talked to two very nice engineering students from Missouri. We rode together to Evanston, and I wished I had gone out with them instead.

Today was gorgeous and warm (79!), so I went to Skokie's sculpture park that I drive by every day and say, "I should go to that park." It's three blocks of sculptures and bike paths. Then I came home and did laundry and made brownies like all women do on Sundays.

Thursday

I got my I-Pass today so now I can use my toll dollars for things like candy bars and strip clubs. It came wrapped in foil like a brownie, and without instructions. I also got my Finn Fest invitation! I've marked it down. I can't wait for food (beer), fun (sitting), and games (staying awake—Robert never wins) at Mimi's.

Well, I miss you all. It's weird not to know anyone here. Some day I'll have to expand my life beyond work and home and the highway in between. Right now I'm just TOO TIRED.

Weekend Update

My mom swooped in like Mary Poppins last weekend and now my apartment looks great. Actually I don't remember what Mary Poppins is about. I'd invite people over if I had any friends. (I told my boss that I know one person in the city, and she said, "Oh honey, we have to get you some friends." She told me to meet people at the grocery store. So the next time I'm getting ham from the deli counter and the girl asks, "Can I get you anything else?" I think I'll say, "Yes, I'd like one pound of...your friendship.") And she brought everything I had left behind in my moving panic.

On Saturday morning we took the El downtown because I wanted to see them dye the river green, but of course we missed it. We were too early and didn't have the time or the fur coats to wait. So we got back on the El, then drove to Ikea where I bought a dining room table and chairs and a rug for the living room. Funny story about the table...I started putting it together on Saturday night while we were making enchilladas and maybe drinking wine. Then I was sidelined because one set of screws was too short for the piece. My mom and I were REALLY mad at Ikea all night. Turns out I was just drunk and had the part upsidedown. Oops! The next day we laughed and laughed—me more than her.

On Sunday we put this place together, I showed my mom where I work, she bought me some plants, we took a trip to the lake, and made soup, which we ate at a real table. It was a great weekend. Now I'm alone again and looking forward to my next guest.









I found a place to get my wigs and hair.




Before the screw incident.


This guy was taking pictures and/or video of his dogs.










This is my bike closet. The silver bike is for my guests.

Work

Apparently Quill started fifty years ago with two brothers in the basement of a chicken store, or a chicken feed store, or a chicken coop...I don't know, I wasn't really listening. But these ceramic chickens are everywhere, and there's a bronze chicken statue in the courtyard.

My mom's coming tomorrow and I'm excited to go out to dinner because I've been eating spaghetti since Sunday. HOMEMADE spaghetti, though, which means something. But I do eat it at the coffee table because it's the only table I own, and in front of the TV. So, I don't know—I think I'm a bachelor now. Like Clooney.

A Sunday Walk

I went for a walk with my camera today, and not FIVE MINUTES INTO IT a young man with an Irish accent (and wearing a Guinness T-shirt—suspicious) came up to me and said:

IRISH(?) MAN: Excuse me. This is a bit embarrassing...But would you mind taking a picture of me naked? It'll just take a moment.
ME: What?
IRISH(?) MAN: This is really embarrassing, but I lost a lot of money to my friends playing poker last night, and the only way they'll let me out of it is if I get someone to take a naked picture of me. Will you please help me?
ME: Yeah, I'm not going to do that.
IRISH(?) MAN: What? Why not?
ME: Because it's weird.
IRISH(?) MAN: Come on, please?
ME: No, not a chance.

And then I walked away. I can't even imagine what that was all about. It's only day two and already I have an unfortunate story.

Here are some pictures I DID take on my walk:

It starts here

Last night I moved in in the rain. Erik dropped my mattress on the wet steps, but what can ya do? We started loading in Royal Oak at 8:30am and finished unloading in Evanston at 9:30pm. We looked and felt like hell afterwards (see below), but were able to go out to dinner and down a beer without falling asleep at the table.

The theme of moving day was "Oops...Oops...Uh oh...Pivot!...Watch the light! Watch the light!...Oops, sorry...Are you okay?"

It's strange and sometimes sad to be here and have all of this on my own, especially now that Erik's gone. I've been talking to myself a lot and listening to the TV in the background. I keep walking from room to room thinking, "What was I just going to do? What was I looking for?" (Sunday: I've worn the same outfit for two days because I don't feel like searching through my suitcases or putting my clothes away.)

But today I met a neighbor (Beth) from across the courtyard. She was outside walking her cat (Tristan—a fat version of Sandy, for those of you who remember that angel). I asked her to recommend a bank and she invited me upstairs to her apartment and gave me a lot of information on Evanston while I took notes. We exchanged phone numbers. She's a biochemist at Northwestern and had a lot of spices out on her dining room table, and kept mentioning her spices and where she buys her spices. I'm trying to think of a good way to get her to invite me to dinner so it seems like it's her idea, but all I've got so far is to tell her, "I like spices." (Sunday: I hope I don't run into Beth wearing the same outfit I wore yesterday. Although maybe she'll feel bad for me and invite me to dinner.)

Today was beautiful and we walked to town without coats on. There are a lot of rug stores.



It started with backing into a tree, even after a lecture on how I'm responsible for all damages.


Erik assesses our stacking.


Closing up shop.


Saying goodbye to my house/Christmas wreath.


CUT TO: Ten and a half hours later...Yikes, I look scary.


There are swastikas in the front hall.


Today we put together my IKEA bookshelf.


And by "we" I mean Erik.


Yellow shoes drying in the sun.


I got cable today.


This won't come off.


View from my bedroom window.


Dining room. For which I have no furniture. I'm thinking of making it into a dance studio.


Kitchen. I want to put saloon doors on the half-walls, but I'm afraid to approach the landlord about it. He might think, "I don't know about this girl. She has big ideas."


Living room/guest room. GET EXCITED.


Bedroom.


Bathroom.


Front door (the back door is in the kitchen).


Entrance hall.


Front door to the building.


They gave me a lot of keys. I'm like a janitor now.


The building.


The neighborhood.