Downtown

Yesterday my coworker Brendan and I went downtown to the Art Institute of Chicago. First we ate hot dogs at Millenium Park because he said I should have a real Chicago-style hot dog, and you know I never turn down a hot dog. And I wanted to see the giant bean. Then we went to the museum and the painting that Brendan wanted to see was on loan to a museum in South Carolina, and the painting I wanted to see was in Boston. We said "What!" a lot. It was still a great trip. Later we got ice cream, and as we crossed the street my ice cream fell off the cone. If I were any younger I would’ve cried. A few minutes later a man asked Brendan where he got the ice cream, and I said, “If you want free ice cream, there's some in the street over there.”

For an early dinner we went to a small Mexican restaurant, Garcia’s, and sipped on strong margaritas. During dinner we found out we both ran the same track events in high school, so Brendan thought it would be a good idea to go to his old high school and have a race on the track. I said I was really full of beef and liquor and might vomit, but I also can never turn down a race. So we drove to Niles and to Notre Dame High School for Boys and ran a 100m in our jeans and street shoes in the dark. And he beat me. I was beaten by a smoker! I was not happy. Today my hips hurt. Then we went back to his house and played foosball and argued over who was Chandler and who was Joey.

Brendan and I have a lot in common, actually. We both want to be screenwriters and we like the same TV shows, which is all that matters to me.

Today was even warmer and felt like summer. The beaches were already packed. I went to Colleen’s new apartment in the city and she put me to work in her David apron from Florence.













I'm not sure what this is called, but I call it the Face Fountain.