These are most likely the top three things that come to mind when you think: City Bus.
First, The Burberry Addict was on my bus. She was donning a Burberry headband, a Burberry scarf, a Burberry sack and a Burberry jacket. Enough with the Burberry.
She was talking to her friends - who were also sporting at least one Burberry item. The female had a Burberry sack and the male a Burberry scarf.
It was like watching a Klan meeting - but instead of white hoods everyone had a Burberry item.
I was sitting there, minding the business of the Klan, when the scent of white wine shot up my nose.
yuck. I do not want to smell that. Who is the alcoholic with wino breath?
The scent of wine was coming and going and it was irritating me. I could not rest until I found the source.
After several minutes I realized it was the classy lady with the Burberry handbag. She was drinking wine out of a paper cup.
A paper cup. Wine in a paper cup.
I would have to be hard up for booze to consider drinking wine out of a paper cup.
I do not enjoy drinking anything out a paper cup. I'd rather slurp up a beverage out of my soiled palm. The thought of white wine, in particular, out of a paper cup made me vomit in my mouth.
eeeeewwwww. The thought of the taste of soaked paper mixed with wine was so repulsive that I could not decide which was worse: The current unpleasant scent or the odor of fresh piss on the the red line train.
However, I was focusing so much on that I failed to notice that the bus had not moved for several minutes.
What in the lord's name is going on?
It seems a Porcshe hit the bus and we were waiting for the police to come.
Reports stated that the Porsche tried to out run the bus from the right lane and ended up hitting the bus.
Return your Porsche immediately.
If your high performance automobile can not out run a CTA bus...your high performance automobile is defective.
This is not funny...
...I just feel the need to set something straight.
I am no English major. Have you seen this blog? I mean really, I could use an editor. But there is a certain American colloquialism that drives me up the wall. I twitch when I hear it.
It should also be noted - I am no expert. I am from Chicago where I am certain that we NEVER learned that ending a sentence in a preposition is improper. I was actually informed of this when I met a young lady, Amy Kloner, in college and when I said "Why don't you come with?", she said said "You are from Chicago"
When I asked how she knew she explained that everyone from Chicago has no issue ending their sentences with a preposition. I was outed by my preposition use...not my obnoxious accent that I came to control...but the use of a preposition.
I still have no clue what the hell a preposition is. Except that another friend, Aime, can sing all the prepositions (whatever that means) to the tune of Yankee Doodle Dandy.
The phrase in question is this:
I could care less
Really? Really? You COULD care less? Soooooo....that means that you do care on some level - if you in fact COULD CARE LESS. I believe the term you are looking for is "I couldn't care less"
Because if you in fact, COULDN'T CARE LESS - then that means that you care to the point you could NOT care anymore. Which I believe is the emphasis you are going for.
Every time someone says "I could care less", I SCREAM inside "COULDN'T....YOU COULD NOT CARE LESS, say it right for F's sake. DO YOU HEAR YOUR NONSENSE?? DO YOU? COULDN'T CARE LESS!!!! COULDN'T, damn it!!!!"
It was my friend, Lindsey, that pointed this out to me. I hate her for it. My life has been full of twitches ever since and an extreme desire to correct people. BUT - it is annoying and rude to correct people's speech when you know what they mean. So I refrain.
This is a large burden. It is very, very large - blood boiling burden.
Now...everyone...you have been educated - go out and conquer the world with this bit of knowledge.
I am no English major. Have you seen this blog? I mean really, I could use an editor. But there is a certain American colloquialism that drives me up the wall. I twitch when I hear it.
It should also be noted - I am no expert. I am from Chicago where I am certain that we NEVER learned that ending a sentence in a preposition is improper. I was actually informed of this when I met a young lady, Amy Kloner, in college and when I said "Why don't you come with?", she said said "You are from Chicago"
When I asked how she knew she explained that everyone from Chicago has no issue ending their sentences with a preposition. I was outed by my preposition use...not my obnoxious accent that I came to control...but the use of a preposition.
I still have no clue what the hell a preposition is. Except that another friend, Aime, can sing all the prepositions (whatever that means) to the tune of Yankee Doodle Dandy.
The phrase in question is this:
I could care less
Really? Really? You COULD care less? Soooooo....that means that you do care on some level - if you in fact COULD CARE LESS. I believe the term you are looking for is "I couldn't care less"
Because if you in fact, COULDN'T CARE LESS - then that means that you care to the point you could NOT care anymore. Which I believe is the emphasis you are going for.
Every time someone says "I could care less", I SCREAM inside "COULDN'T....YOU COULD NOT CARE LESS, say it right for F's sake. DO YOU HEAR YOUR NONSENSE?? DO YOU? COULDN'T CARE LESS!!!! COULDN'T, damn it!!!!"
It was my friend, Lindsey, that pointed this out to me. I hate her for it. My life has been full of twitches ever since and an extreme desire to correct people. BUT - it is annoying and rude to correct people's speech when you know what they mean. So I refrain.
This is a large burden. It is very, very large - blood boiling burden.
Now...everyone...you have been educated - go out and conquer the world with this bit of knowledge.
First Fall
I have nothing to report.
Except: I took my first fall this season on then frozen tundra of Chicago this weekend.
I took the fall after getting out of a car and then I just waited at the rear tire of the auto for my companion to find me and assist me to my feet. I just remained face down on the street until I was helped, because that is what drunk damsels in distress do.
Except: I took my first fall this season on then frozen tundra of Chicago this weekend.
I took the fall after getting out of a car and then I just waited at the rear tire of the auto for my companion to find me and assist me to my feet. I just remained face down on the street until I was helped, because that is what drunk damsels in distress do.
Maniac
I witnessed a crazy interaction this week.
I was standing on the corner waiting for a bus. Which reminds me of a Violent Femmes song. Anyway - a car in the middle lane clears the intersection and then stops.
Odd...
The 30-something year old gets out and is apparently yelling at some pedestrians. Four unrelated pedestrians turn around and walk back towards him to meet and greet whatever his fightin' words were.
Two of them are screaming and extremely irate. "THAT WAS A RED LIGHT" Things such as this are being said. One of the four was more calm and was yelling "YOU are going to KILL someone if you keep driving like that"...."NO..all I am saying is that YOU are going to KILL someone one day"
I could not hear what the vehicle driver was saying- just the "F YOU" at the end when he got back in his Denali and sped off and I did not see whatever had happened. But I'd like to point out some things:
a. The driver was on his phone. He had a flip phone and it was open while we was throwing up his arms screaming and when he got back in the car he promptly continued his conversation.
b. FOUR irate pedestrians can not be wrong. Clearly the man ran a red light and nearly killed them. I do not need to see the actual circumstance in order to know this. If a crazy man gets out of his car and beckons you back to the scene of the incident - you are not going to come back unless you know you are in the right and you were nearly killed.
c. I can only assume the driver was drunk, high on cocaine or a complete prick. Who the hell in their right mind gets out of their car in the middle of downtown Chicago to fight pedestrians? Maniacs that need to be evaluated or those under the influence of alcohol and/or narcotics...that is who.
I was hoping the whole thing would evolve into a giant brawl because I wanted to see the driver get beat and I find street justice violence to be both rewarding and entertaining.
I was standing on the corner waiting for a bus. Which reminds me of a Violent Femmes song. Anyway - a car in the middle lane clears the intersection and then stops.
Odd...
The 30-something year old gets out and is apparently yelling at some pedestrians. Four unrelated pedestrians turn around and walk back towards him to meet and greet whatever his fightin' words were.
Two of them are screaming and extremely irate. "THAT WAS A RED LIGHT" Things such as this are being said. One of the four was more calm and was yelling "YOU are going to KILL someone if you keep driving like that"...."NO..all I am saying is that YOU are going to KILL someone one day"
I could not hear what the vehicle driver was saying- just the "F YOU" at the end when he got back in his Denali and sped off and I did not see whatever had happened. But I'd like to point out some things:
a. The driver was on his phone. He had a flip phone and it was open while we was throwing up his arms screaming and when he got back in the car he promptly continued his conversation.
b. FOUR irate pedestrians can not be wrong. Clearly the man ran a red light and nearly killed them. I do not need to see the actual circumstance in order to know this. If a crazy man gets out of his car and beckons you back to the scene of the incident - you are not going to come back unless you know you are in the right and you were nearly killed.
c. I can only assume the driver was drunk, high on cocaine or a complete prick. Who the hell in their right mind gets out of their car in the middle of downtown Chicago to fight pedestrians? Maniacs that need to be evaluated or those under the influence of alcohol and/or narcotics...that is who.
I was hoping the whole thing would evolve into a giant brawl because I wanted to see the driver get beat and I find street justice violence to be both rewarding and entertaining.
Pardon the Large Photo
The photo is not the most pleasant - but as you can see: I am bundled and braced for cold weather. It is like 2 degrees. That, my friends, is cold.
More pleasant photos of me can be found earlier in the blog. Including, but not limited to, the one where I look like a polish cleaning lady.
More pleasant photos of me can be found earlier in the blog. Including, but not limited to, the one where I look like a polish cleaning lady.
Not enough
I have heard recently that I do not blog enough.
Sorry - I don't have much to say.
As much as I would like to ramble about myself I try to keep it funny.
I gained 3 lbs yesterday because I ate out for brunch and dinner.
I am glad people can do this every day and not weigh 250 pounds. I can not.
So yesterday, although I enjoyed my brunch, I had a complaint.
Toast.
When I am served a slice of toast I expect 2 things: butter and a selection of jellies, jams, or some other fruit flavored spreads.
I got this: a packet of grape jelly.
Grape Jelly? Are you serious? How dare you. I have been insulted. Grape Jelly is the white trash of jellies. Gross. I am not 5. Even at a young age my tastes were more discerning. I have never in my life thought a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich was acceptable. I need a high class preserve with seeds and chucks of fruit. Not some purple colored goo.
If you are going to give one the only option of grape jelly then perhaps you should slap a pad of butter on their plate.
Am I in jail? Where but in jail would one be served dry toast?
I am not a convict. Give me some butter.
Sorry - I don't have much to say.
As much as I would like to ramble about myself I try to keep it funny.
I gained 3 lbs yesterday because I ate out for brunch and dinner.
I am glad people can do this every day and not weigh 250 pounds. I can not.
So yesterday, although I enjoyed my brunch, I had a complaint.
Toast.
When I am served a slice of toast I expect 2 things: butter and a selection of jellies, jams, or some other fruit flavored spreads.
I got this: a packet of grape jelly.
Grape Jelly? Are you serious? How dare you. I have been insulted. Grape Jelly is the white trash of jellies. Gross. I am not 5. Even at a young age my tastes were more discerning. I have never in my life thought a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich was acceptable. I need a high class preserve with seeds and chucks of fruit. Not some purple colored goo.
If you are going to give one the only option of grape jelly then perhaps you should slap a pad of butter on their plate.
Am I in jail? Where but in jail would one be served dry toast?
I am not a convict. Give me some butter.
Slap Me in the Face with a Cheeseburger
I have an issue waking up in the morning. It is part of my undeniable charm.
I could sleep through a war. I am not kidding. It is absurd. I need not go into the story from college where passing out on or near a railroad track seemed genius.
Currently I have this system:
My phone alarm goes off and then fifteen minutes later another alarm goes off. I switch the 2nd alarm between radio and alarm every few weeks to keep it real - because after too long - I can sleep through either.
Currently it is on radio. I listen to Steve Dahl in the AM, because he is a riot.
Sometimes when I actually do wake up from the first alarm - I just lay in bed, wait for the radio alarm and laugh it up in bed.
This morning my phone alarm went off. As usual...I got up, collected it, brought the phone with me to bed, snuggled up with it and started pressing buttons to snooze. Well...I turned it off. This is why I have 2 alarms.
Then I fell back to slumber, nuzzling my cell phone.
I started to have a dream. Someone was describing all these delicious cheeseburgers to me. In my dream, I look for pen and paper and feverishly wrote down all the delicious components of the cheeseburgers. I have not clue why I need that to be documented - it was a dream, what can I say. I could could not keep up with the cheeseburger list. It was stressful.
Then I pleasantly awoke to find that....it was my good friend, Steve Dahl, on the radio describing such things.
I have come to this conclusion: if delightful food is being described to me...that is pretty much the best way for me to be find my way out of sleep.
This can't be a positive thing.
I could sleep through a war. I am not kidding. It is absurd. I need not go into the story from college where passing out on or near a railroad track seemed genius.
Currently I have this system:
My phone alarm goes off and then fifteen minutes later another alarm goes off. I switch the 2nd alarm between radio and alarm every few weeks to keep it real - because after too long - I can sleep through either.
Currently it is on radio. I listen to Steve Dahl in the AM, because he is a riot.
Sometimes when I actually do wake up from the first alarm - I just lay in bed, wait for the radio alarm and laugh it up in bed.
This morning my phone alarm went off. As usual...I got up, collected it, brought the phone with me to bed, snuggled up with it and started pressing buttons to snooze. Well...I turned it off. This is why I have 2 alarms.
Then I fell back to slumber, nuzzling my cell phone.
I started to have a dream. Someone was describing all these delicious cheeseburgers to me. In my dream, I look for pen and paper and feverishly wrote down all the delicious components of the cheeseburgers. I have not clue why I need that to be documented - it was a dream, what can I say. I could could not keep up with the cheeseburger list. It was stressful.
Then I pleasantly awoke to find that....it was my good friend, Steve Dahl, on the radio describing such things.
I have come to this conclusion: if delightful food is being described to me...that is pretty much the best way for me to be find my way out of sleep.
This can't be a positive thing.
votes or boats
My friend just told me a funny, funny story.
She gathered up her three children, three and under, to go vote...she is supermom.
She gets there and her son, Jesse, says "where is the boat?"
He apparently thought they were going boating, not voting.
I love it. So cute.
It is not the yacht club, my young friend, it is simple a voting poll.
Not to be confused....
She gathered up her three children, three and under, to go vote...she is supermom.
She gets there and her son, Jesse, says "where is the boat?"
He apparently thought they were going boating, not voting.
I love it. So cute.
It is not the yacht club, my young friend, it is simple a voting poll.
Not to be confused....
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