She’s a beauty
Again I appeal to the general public for advice on some new beauty products. And by beauty products I mean, facial soap and moisturizers. What do you use and why? I am a bit picky when it comes to not having a fragrance, etc. and the more natural, the better. Cost is of some concern, but then again, it’s my face! So, I am willing to invest. It’s just one of my pet peeves in life is buying some overpriced, overpromising product that I hate, and it continues to take up premium space on my medicine cabinet shelf.
Help! I implore you!
Serial snoozer
I would like to appeal to the general public about your thoughts on snoozing. Are you a snoozer? Are you like me, a serial snoozer, snoozing anywhere from 1 to 8 times a morning? Do you secretly loathe your snoozing and long to be an upright, bolt out of bed non-snoozer? If you’re a non-snoozer, do you have any advice for a snoozer whose bottomed out on their habit? And while we’re at it, how do you feel about schnoodles? Snoozing schnoodles?
My new favorite thing
Sasquatch, by Kraken Mosaics
I NEED THIS.
This person is incredibly gifted.
God, even their screen name, presumably referencing Clash of the Titans (the best movie ever), is brilliant.
UPDATE: It will be in my longing clutches soon.
My initial thoughts
So, twice in the last week I have been addressed with only my first initial in email communication by people who are basically acquaintances. Do they have some sort of undetectable attachment disorder? Am I the sort of person that you feel like you have known a long time just after meeting me? Do I inspire an unwarranted comfort level? I am interested in this phenomenon of addressing near strangers in a very comfortable manner. I guess it’s no different than calling someone “dear” while at the store, or “sweetie” in a diner situation.
In other news, I had Cream of Potato and Dill Pickle soup today for lunch, and it was super tasty.
An open letter to Abby Ryan
Dear Abby,
I’d like to start out by saying that over the years I’ve been listening to Chicago Public Radio, I’ve come to really admire you. At first you were a mystery to me. Who was this woman who slaved away for Chicago Public Radio for 16-17 hours a day? That raspy voice rattling off the traffic at a manic pace whether it be 5:30 a.m. or 6:00 p.m. Didn’t they ever let you leave? I pictured you in a small, dark, dank dungeon-like closet in the basement of Navy Pier, with Lisa Labuz standing over you menacingly, making you recite the delays on the Stevenson, Ike and Edens faster faster FASTER!! And like all good dominatrixes, she’d make you thank her for it afterward… “Thank you, Lisa.”
Well, once I googled you, and I found out that you’re not actually an indentured servent of WBEZ, you’re just a sweet, God-fearin’, bracelet-makin’ traffic girl, who ironically enough prefers to bike everywhere, does a split shift day, and indeed enjoys more time out in the fresh air and sunshine than this corporate monkey.
Anyway, Abby, I am writing this letter to say that I feel just awful. I didn’t mean to call you all those terrible names while I was on the highway yesterday morning. I mean, I know that traffic is a wild, untamed beast that pounces and retreats at will. It’s not your fault you said 23 minutes to Lake Cook Rd., and it actually took like 45. I’m sorry I overreacted. I shouldn’t have called you a liar, or doubted your abilities and done the unspeakable… AM RADIO. I was just in a bit of a state, and it will never happen again. I am so, so sorry.
Your faithful servant,
Collene
