Undercover mission
So, did you happen to read the recent post over at mirandala.org describing the cast of characters that make our lives more interesting in our office complex downtown? Did you read about Three-Foot Hair Lady? And did you say to yourself, “Self, this is outrageous. Even the idea of a three-foot tall ‘do is completely preposterous. Miranda is clearly a slice short of a loaf.”
Well, the Loch Ness Monster of hairkind surfaced this afternoon, and I have photographic proof of its existence! Check it out! Please note that these photographs have not been altered or manipulated in any way.
I know, I know. This supposed “hair” could easily be a feather duster or a narcoleptic shitzu resting on her head. Which I realize are both more plausible explanations. But honestly, when you take a close, hard look at this photo, you can tell that this woman and her vertically-abled hair are real. In fact, there are other witnesses! If you look closely in the second photo, you can pretty much make out the incredulous stare from the man in the passing car. Ok, so it’s a little blurry. But I swear, she’s the real deal! No one can escape my super secret spying abilities and lack of ethics and shame. No one. And Talc Lady, you’re next. bwahahhahaa
Radio days
Very excited about the new Secret Radio Project brewing over at Chicago Public Radio. Have been sitting here daydreaming and brainstorming potential interviews, playlists, soundtracks and audio documentaries that need to come to fruition. First up, I want to crack the wacky, omnipresent nut that is Walking Dude.
This blog has a really spot on description of him (shabby Yanni demonstrates an impressive Separated at Birth talent, which is one of my favorite passtimes), though I see him just about every day outside of my office building now and have determined that his official trade is Jewelry Peddler to the Stars Cab Drivers. But wow, he does cover a lot of ground. Similar to the infamous Rose Lady, whose territory seems to span a 20 mile radius on the Northside, and not unlike a Visa card, this guy is everywhere I want to be. Though I am convinced that the Rose Lady has created an army of clones, because she is seriously EVERYWHERE. And even though Walking Dude does also have this gift of omnipresence, you sort of feel like you’ve won a contest when you spot him. At first sightings were kind of creepy, but then it slowly became comforting in that communal, these are the people in your neighborhood sort of way.
At any rate, if you haven’t seen it before, be sure to scroll down to the bottom of Rozanne’s post and watch the Dudementary made about him. It features about 30 seconds of Walking Dude, er, walking, with rare footage of him taming his mane. It’s fascinating. The frustrating thing is, I’ve never heard the man speak. And though it’s almost better that way as the less I know about him, the more I can preserve the pure character I’ve created in my mind, but curiosity will most likely get the best of me. And for my first Secret Radio Project I will go undercover as a veteran cabbie just to record his concise “Watch? Bracelet? 24 karat…” sales pitch, and then maybe I’ll pretend it’s my husband’s birthday just to keep him talking. But I guess what I wonder most is, does he have any idea he’s a local legend? And where does he live? My co-worker and I have a theory that he’s actually a very wealthy eccentric with a restless spirit and a love of leisure suits, just looking to pass away the time.
These are the things that keep me up til all hours of the night when my brain has been overloaded with oppressive work type things and hasn’t had any elbow room for the past couple weeks. So, Secret Radio Project, here we come. Now tell me, what are you going to do?
sucka!!!
man - i have just re-confirmed that i am a total sucka. i just spread an urban legend with utmost sincerity. has anyone else heard this story?
KILLER BISCUITS WANTED FOR ATTEMPTED MURDER (actual AP headline)
Linda Burnett, 23, a resident of Palm Springs, CA, was visiting her in-laws
and while there went to a nearby supermarket to pick up some groceries.
Several people noticed her sitting in her car with the windows rolled up
and with her eyes closed, with both hands behind the back of her head.
One customer who had been at the store for a while became concerned and
walked over to the car. He noticed that Linda’s eyes were now open, and she
looked very strange. He asked her if she
was okay, and Linda replied that she’d been shot in the back of the head,
and had been holding her brains in for over an hour.
The man called the paramedics, who broke into the car because the doors
were locked and Linda refused to remove her hands from her head. When they
finally got in, they found that Linda had a wad of bread dough on the back
of her head.
A Pillsbury biscuit canister had exploded from the heat, making a loud
noise that sounded like a gunshot, and the wad of dough hit her in the back
of her head. When she reached back to find out what it was, she felt the
dough and thought it was her brains. She initially passed out, but quickly
recovered and tried to hold her brains in for over an hour until someone
noticed and came to her aid.
Apparently this is all an elaborate set up for a blonde joke. A BLOND JOKE. still disconcertingly popular in California.
D’OH!!!! WHY DO I BELIEVE THESE THINGS????
is anyone else on the planet so easily duped?
ps…i missed ya’ll. it was truly awesome to see everyone. big love to yous.
kittyteef out! (and back)
Her name is Rioja
I had a pleasantly surprising dining experience recently, right in my neighborhood. Rioja is a tapas restaurant that popped up in Andersonville about a year and half ago. Much more affordable than its high-end seafood predecessor Atlantique, Rioja delicately sizzles and sparkles. Draped in dark red hues, Rioja has a large bar area where we were seated, and there’s also an adjacent dining room. Salsa music softly played in the background.
We began with a pitcher of Sangria which seems bottomless, serving 4 or 5 people. Bread and roasted garlic is whisked to your table shortly after you are seated. There’s endless tapas to choose from on the menu. The seafood dishes here are the highlight. My favorites were the scallops, a little crisp on the outside, and buttery on the inside, and served with a risotto. Also the grilled garlic-lemon shrimp wrapped in serrano ham, drizzled with a melon-fig relish
was a burst of citrus goodness in your mouth.
If meat and potatoes are your thing, you’ll enjoy the pork tenderloin with mashed potatoes and sauteed green apples. There’s also a roasted red pepper and goat cheese hot spread that’s delightful. All of the portions are enough to share, and honestly every single one of them won me over.
Our waiter gave a little frown when I said I didn’t want coffee (I was still working on my Sangria!) and for some reason we were seated at an “unfinished” table, literally a slab of rough wood covered with a sheet of brown paper, which oddly enough we didn’t notice until the end of the meal. But that won’t stop me from re-visiting this joint.
Rioja is a great date place. A place to gather with friends. A place to grab a lite meal, or have a full-on smorgasboard.
I will be returning to this secret Spanish jewel.
Rioja is located at 5101 N. Clark St. 773-275-9191
Quark wants me fired
Ok, so I know I’ve ranted about this before to one or all of you, but man, the programmers of the Quark spell check have a vendetta against me, and possibly every copywriter out there.
Not to get all conspiracy theorist on you, but really why, in the height of World Wide Web mania, WHY would you offer “orgy” as an alternative spelling to “.org?” All it takes is one mindless, compulsive click, and I’m cooked. And although I might be able to find endless humor in this mousing error, I doubt my clients or employer would.
I implore you, makers of Quark software, please correct this snafu before it affects my livelihood. Or, Divine Robot, Ruler of the Cyber World, please create a .orgy domain and the situation will correct itself.
Thank you in advance.
