Latin Music = Great Party

So I went to a Halloween party in Pilsen on Saturday.

I was supposed to be Barrett- the graduate student, however Barrett instead decided to stay at home grading papers, after having a busy afternoon going to an anti-war demonstration dowtown and stuffing his stomach full of veggie samosas and biryani on Devon Ave - where he may or may not have picked up a bit of food poisoning. His tummy hurt like hell and despite his wish to eat in one of those authentic IndoPak joints (where all the cabbies go to eat), he realized that he just wasn't cut out for that much curry and spice.

It was time for plan B.

I put on my cycling kit, sprinkled some mud on myself and in just a minute I looked like a 2002 Paris-Roubaix Winner Johan Museeuw (pictured below).

I went with two girls, and since they showed up a bit late and already dressed up (as Frida and a pirate), it was too late to ask them to change into the podium girl outfits to compliment my look.
I am sure that the idea would not have gone down smoothly anyway :(.

The party was great. What made it so good was the DJ, who played mostly Latin music with few hip-hop and 80s tunes mixed in. I danced pretty much the whole time, and even though I didn't know the steps for some of the dances, I did well. All the people there were also very cool and laid back, which made me very glad I went. I ended up talking and dancing with a super cute girl scout for about 3o-40 minutes. I was craving some cookies but she didn't bring any with her that night. She also forgot to bring her boyfriend which I realized at the end of our 40 minute "nice talking and dancing with you" moment. Apparently, her other 2 friends were SINGLE and looking but I never caught on to that. All I could think of were the coooookies.

The other memorable costumes : two graduate students (yeah - the couple) dressed as the red tape whatever that means, not one but two priests, the Brawny man, and the Flavor Flav.

Heading home, we decided to take Damen and check out the scene in Wicker Park, and it was happening big time. These people go all out. One of my cycling teammates played the show at the Double Door, where a bunch of local bands dress up as some other band and do covers. His band was Culture Club. Read his blog! Good times.......good times.

My Halloween Costume - Meet Barrett!

I am writing this after texting back and forth with my friend, who invited me to a huge party in Pilsen on the ocassion of birthdays and Halloween. As she asked me if I had any ideas for a costume, I finally remebered what I wanted to be myself. I played around with the idea of showing up in one of my cycling or soccer outfits-taking the easy way out. And as I was in the middle of pressing number 9 key for the third time, the lightbulbs lit up in my head like crazy: "I AM GOING TO BE A GRAD STUDENT FOR HALLOWEEN!!!!!"

How could I have overlooked this hardworking yet underappreciated (not to mention underpaid) segment of our population, when selecting my Halloween persona? I say persona because it is more about showcasing one's acting skills rather than just wearing a costume. After all, most of my friends are grad students and I should be able to pull it off easily. This is my tribute to them, with all their genius and tiny imperfections.

In order to look most recognizable I will wear a pair of Camel infused Levi's jeans (5XX), a gray 50/50 blend stretched out turtleneck (Old Navy), brown cord double breasted jacket with elbow patches (vintage), my black plastic frame glasses, big maroon acrylic scarf (my mom's back to knitting project gone wrong) tied into a loose knot, an optional wool hat or a fedora, all bottomed out with some black Converse All Star shoes. But enough about the clothes.

I will arrive to the party 90 minutes late blaming the CTA, and bring an opened 12 pack Old Style carton (containing 5 Old Styles, 3 PBRs, and two random Goose Island brews - let's say Honker's and 312). I can totally see the chain of events to follow.
I will politely blow off the first 2 people I see on the account of their wearing the high school cheerleader and football player costumes respectively. I didn't hang out with this type of crowd back in the 11th grade, why the fuck would I want to shmooze with them now? They probably didn't even make the squad or the varsity team if they dressed up as such for Halloween. Plus, they will probably ask me what my costume was, and if they can't read through my elbow patches, they're still reading at the high school level. I will proceed to the kitchen where I will store away my beers and survey the scene. I will then be impolitely blown off by 2 ladies dressed as nurses on the account of my scarf and looking nothing like the Dr. McDreamy they're after. The nurses don't like my sense of humor anyway, just read my At the Doctor's post. After an akward 5 minute period of standing by myself enjoying someone else's Belgian beer (perhaps another grad student's who'd spent his study abroad days in Brussells or has now gotten a first teaching job at the junior college and can afford to share with all his awesome taste in beer - acquired at the many post academic conference drinking outings at the Hopleaf), I will spot a cute hipster chick in skinny jeans and a classic blue Sonic Youth t-shirt. We will get into a conversation and I will try to impress her with my knowledge of random indie bands, all of whom I had seen listed on my neighborhood record shop's display board and listened to on myspace. My sporadic and uninvited glances at her overflowing washing machine will piss her off and I will get nowhere. After swiping another smooth Belgian, I will go onto the porch and encounter a couple smoking. "They have to be grad students!" I'll say to myself. And they will be. We will immediately bond over the fact that we've all been turned down for Fulbright's 3 times, that we can live on lentil soup and falafel sandwiches for a whole semester, and that it's so fucking hard to get any grants for the type of enlightening studies we are doing. Our conversation will last some good 45 minutes, in which time I will explain to him (a poli sci major) origins of the conflict in the Balkans, that Milosevic is not spelled Milosowicz, and listen to her ramblings about the time spent in Morocco's Atlas mountains studying Berber tribal culture. The exchange will end when I get invited to a Socialist conference, as I draw the line at the Kucinich type of leftism.

The rest of the night, I will get into a several boring conversations with already drunk people, all of which I will end with the favorite excuse that always works like a charm: " Oh yeah, I have to go home and grade some midterms, I am so behind with everything."

And there you have it. An uneventful fictional Halloween in a pretty uneventful life of a fictional grad student. I guess I'll have to give him a name. Let's call him Ga...Barrett.

Casual Fridays.

Today is Friday!
I never thought I would be one of those people who would be tired at the end of a 5 day work week, working a regular 9-5 job. I had worked odd schedule jobs until this - my first real job out of college- and I always thought that the happy hour was stupid. I feel differently now.
What I considered even more stupid is the idea of a casual friday, when all the people try to look casual wearing their out of style jeans. In my line of work (engineering) I get to wear jeans almost every day, and casual for me has a different meaning. Well today, my coworkers all showed up in jeans and white walking gym shoes. I don't remember when I saw so many pleated jeans in my life. I forgot that these existed.

How to talk to non-cyclists.

http://www.bikeradar.com/road/news/article/humour-how-to-talk-to-non-cyclists-12730

Just so we have an understanding.

Chain Letters!

I just received one of them chain e-mails from a colleague at work (yessssss). It had to do with some picture of what he called "God's eye" taken by the Hubble telescope out there in the vastness of our universe. It is supposed to change my day around (for better I hope) and eventually make an impact on my life so I shouldn't keep this e-mail and need to pass it onto 7 more people. Great, if you're reading this blog you have one chain letter coming your way.
Now, in some respectable companies this kind of e-mail would not be allowed, but neither would blogging so I'll take the chain letter.
What I am getting at is that for me chain letters lost their credibility and intrigue once the copiers and especially e-mails started being utilized for their distribution. In the old days, you had to hand write the letter, put it in the 7 or 107 envelopes, lick them envelopes and put the proper stampage on there. That shows real belief and desire to have your life improved or risk doom by not passing the letter on. Copy and Paste just seems too convenient.

Police evict rebellious ex-nuns from Polish convent

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20071010/ap_on_re_eu/poland_rebel_ex_nuns

Now, what is a "former" Franciscan monk doing rebelling against Vatican with 65 ex-nuns?

Sting - The worst lyricist of all! WTF????

According to Blender

http://www.citynews.ca/news/news_15548.aspx

I don't know about this Blender publication since I never read a single issue, but I smell a rat.
Any publication that preoccupies itself with the best and the worst lists is stupid to me.

"....be yourself no matter what they say!"

Sting - "Englishman in New York"

At the Doctor's.

So, apparently one of my chest hairs decided to give me break and not make a showing on the surface, hoping it would make me look a bit less like Tom Selleck and more like the guys in the BOD commercials. In the process, it created a whole lot of mess underneath the skin and a minor surgery needed to be performed. On thursday, I went too see my doctor and a small incission was made which hurt as hell. I was told to come back on Saturday after taking some strong ass anti bio's which were to reduce the inflammation.
My appointment was for 10:00 am, and I showed up half an hour late, which translated into a 2 hour waiting room experience. Making eye contact for a second with the strange looking dude across from me and then looking away pretending I wasn't looking at him was my only amusement left after reading through a stack of WebMD magazines. At 12:32, my name was called out and I entered the doctor's office. They took my blood pressure, pulse and weighed me again.
I was whole 4 pounds lighter since Thursday. A perfect occasion to say something funny!
Nurse: " You are 209, that's 4 pounds less than thursday night!"
Me: " Yeah, I hooked up with Jenny Craig last night. Four pounds in one night, I really like her program!"
Me (Silent) :" I am sooooooo funny, hahahahahaha."
Nurse : " Yeah.....please have a seat. I'll be right back."
She came back carrying a toolbox of scalpels, needles and various poking instruments. I guess I am done with comedy. When you get this kind of feedback, you're pretty much out.
Half an hour later, I walked out bandaged up and in pain, but y'all don't worry! I'm gonna be OK.

The best birthday ever and the real Scotsman.

My birthday on Friday was indeed the best ever.

I had the pleasure of hanging out with some of the most talented actresses, models, animal right activists (slash immigrantgay hater - BB). We all had a great time surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of some of my favorite people - Critical Massers. Dita told me that I looked much better in my spandex outfit than Marilyn Manson ever will in latex, and the rest of the ladies agreed. I am not sure if this was post divorce angry talk and an attempt to score on a rebound, but it sure did feel good and it cancelled out all the hostility I've been getting with the :"Get off the road you f@$%# !" comments while dressed in my cycling outfit.
As the ride was passing through Logan Square, I decided to say my goodbyes, split off, and head towards my apartment in Lincoln Sq. On the way, I encountered a bunch of drunk Cubs fans marauding onto the streets from their "$12 Bud Light buckets and 10 cent wings" corner bar, singing the Go Cubs Go anthem - off tune. The Cubs had clinched the division! All we need to do now is keep our hands away from foul balls, and they might actually go all the way. Nah!

I got home, showered, and changed into my party clothes. A friend was throwing a party in her glamorous 1 bedroom apt. in a trendy WickerS Park neighborhood. Or was it BuckStown? Not really sure, but it is trendy. At the party, I had the honor of meeting a real Scotsman. Living in Chicago you run into a lot of Irishmen and Englishmen, but Scots are a hard find. At first I didn't know what to say, he was surrounded by a crowd of people trying to talk to him about stuff. All I kept repeating in my head was: " Please don't be the first person to bring up Braveheart or quilts!". Let me tell you, if guys are fans of the women with the french accent (I've heard that Russian is also in but my being of Slavic roots, it doesn't do much for me), women at the party were all "one finger playing with the hair and one leg up" over this guy's talk. You could be balding and 100 punds overweight, as soon as you opened your mouth you'd become freakin' Sean Connery. As someone who prides himself on being able to immitate various accents (my Apu and Arnold are superb), it was discouraging to realize that my Scottish is way off. I will never again do my Groundskeeper Willie or the "Choose Life..." monologue from Trainspotting. Eventually, we talked about soccer and the fact that I knew about Motherwell kinda impressed him. Unfortunately I forgot to bring up "The Flying Scotsman" - a movie about a famous Scottish track cyclist. Maybe next time.