CheapThrills

Girl Date

  

My first night in Chicago, I rolled 2 suitcases into an empty apartment that was somehow “mine” and promptly freaked out.  I couldn’t stay there alone, on a sofa I’d just bought off a stranger (the only piece of furniture in the apartment at the time). So I ran to a friend’s house – a girl from Boston who came to Chicago for a 2-month project – and crashed on her couch for the rest of the week. At that point, she was my only friend in the city.

When she left, though, I was on my own to meet people. And can I just say, traditional ways of “making friends” (especially girlfriends) is WAY harder than you’d expect. It sucks. Bad. It sucks so bad that I’m going to write a whole separate post about it sometime.

That’s why last week I asked out my waitress. I was at a bar feeling pretty outgoing after a few too many Bombay-and-Tonics. She was serving my table trying to get us extra food and drink deals. She mentioned she just moved from Brooklyn and had a thing for dead birds… and I was sold. A girl at my table and I asked her out on a “friendship date” – just 3 East Coast gals on the town! - and the coolest part about it was that she didn’t find the proposition weird at all. She seemed flattered, in fact. We exchanged numbers, a few fun-loving texts, and next thing I knew I had plans for the following Tuesday.

What an awesome time we had.

If you’re a young woman living in a new city, I highly recommend this mode of meeting new people. Making girlfriends is so hard because – it seems to me – women are far less likely to put themselves out there for other women. We chitchat and exchange numbers and go out on dates with guys, but we don’t put that same energy towards making girlfriends… which is infinitely more important than wasting time worrying about guys who turn out to be pathological liars or self-obsessed sommeliers or – God forbid – BOTH (that actually happened, thankfully not to me). Forget that. Right now, I'd much rather enjoy an al fresco brunch and people watch with a gal pal.

A Big Mac won’t kill a hangover

And neither will greasy fries! Boo! That’s always been my cure (or, rather, my excuse to savor McDonalds shamelessly).

The morning after boozy nights, a girlfriend of mine would prepare me her trusted hangover remedy: three drops of Milk Thistle in a cup of water. Apparently Milk Thistle increases liver function or some such. But it also tastes like urine, which proved counteractive to the whole nausea thing.

The best way to avoid a hangover? 1. Eat before you drink. 2. Drink Gin. That is all.

Happy St. Patty’s Day from Chi-town!

 

More on hangovers from CNN

Too many options on Chicago's Blue Line

I'm neither one, but I think I should sign up. Just to be on the safe side.

My New Year’s resolution…

...is to stop being a social media hermit.

So I deactivated my Facebook about 10 months ago because it worsened all the already painful problems in my life. Kinda like putting a magnifying glass to an ant on a sunny day.

Then I stopped blogging. I don’t know why. A friend of mine once warned me to NEVER blog about how you don’t blog enough, but I’m doing it anyway. Because it’s actually hilarious, when you don’t keep up your blog it becomes the spawning ground for spam comments (who knew?!). Comments used to give me a thrill. But then I wrote this one really upsetting post awhile ago in which I basically just sobbed all over the internets, and the first comment I got was from Viagra Online. That really messed me up. Now I get comments DAILY from oh, I dunno, maybe “Free Cambodian Dating”? Or, better yet, just plain 'ol “Boobs”? It just feels so violating, like someone spray-painting your baby’s face.

Then I tried to replace blogging and Facebooking with Twittering. It didn’t work. I’m going to say something now, something that may shock and offend. Twitter sucks. It’s boring and stupid. I have an account, I guess I’m pretty active on it or whatever, but it’s useless. If I’m going to blog, I’ll blog. If I’m going to write status updates with links for my friends, I’ll do that on Facebook (or even AIM for that matter). Twitter just adds nothing. I got jazzed about Twitter exactly once, and that was when Robert DeNiro responded to one of my tweets. But then it turned out it wasn’t the real Bobby. Of course it wasn’t. Freakin’ Twitter.

So here’s the part where I admit some hard truths. Here we go:

I get lonely without social media. And not just any social media. MY social media. Twitter never felt like mine, but rather a hodgepodge of many people’s one-liners. Flickr was never mine either—I don’t want my photos searchable on Google Images. LinkedIn has always been fine, but that’s my WORK place, ya know?

I miss blogging. But when you stop, it’s really hard to start again. It’s like, if you haven’t written in awhile you feel like your next post has to be THE BEST. And then you get freaked, because you have no ideas that can live up to that. And then you feel like you just have no ideas AT ALL. I guess that’s called writer’s block, or blogger’s block, or something.

And, yes, I miss Facebook (picture me cringing as I write this next bit, ok?). The truth is, I’m severely saddened that no one knows my favorite movies anymore. Or my favorite quotes. They’ve changed in the last 10 months, and no one knows because I don’t have a stupid Facebook account. Also, I so much miss exclaiming “new profile pic!” after a fun night out. And speaking of photos, my new ones have no home without Facebook. They sit in iPhotos, all lonely and lifeless with no comments or thumbs up. Poor photos. Maybe it's juvenile, but it’s almost like deactivating one’s Facebook profile disappears a huge chunk of one’s social life.

So I’m going to start blogging more. About whatever. Even if I have no ideas, I’ll just write about Tiger Woods or something.

I’m also going to reactivate my Facebook account sometime soon. It’s so scary, because I deactivated during one of the hardest times of my life. So my profile is like a time capsule of crap-land. But I gotta get over it. Not to say I’ll never deactivate again (I most certainly will if I feel the need), but I think now it’s about time I reentered the social media world. Because these late-night convos with my plant (it’s a her and she has a name and she’s brilliant) are getting pathological.

Things To Do When You Have Swine Flu

I was supposed to go home to Philly for Columbus Day weekend. Instead, two days ago I found myself curled up in the fetal position shivering on hospital paper sheets with a fever of 103.5. They swabbed my nose (gross!) and sent me out the fire exit all dolled up in a bendy face mask. On the way home, passer-bys gasped at my twitchy, shaky, sweaty, masky appearance. Kids ran away, visibly upset.

The doc called the next day. H1N1 virus (a.k.a swine flu). Confirmed. Actually, the first case he's seen in Chicago! But the best part? I must stay home for an entire week... thus missing my weekend at home and eating the airfare (thanks a lot American Airlines).

Anyway, this is Day 3 of my week long quarantine. I'm feeling ok. But I'm kinda, well, bored. So to pass the time, I've been:

• Doing jigsaw puzzles. Well, just one. But I've got the border done!
• Catching up on the news. Did you hear the Phillies won the World Series?!
• Looking out the window at my neighbor's TV. It's fun to try and figure out what they're watching. Like a spy.
• Seeing how long I can go not showering, wearing the same pajamas. If no one is allowed to visit you, you can smell however you want! It's great!
• When I get the mail: Wearing my mask in the elevator and facing the wall, totally still. It really freaks people out.
• Wearing my mask around the apartment and taking pictures of myself with my webcam. Surprisingly entertaining.

If you have suggestions for other super-neat things I can do with the next 4 days of my life, send them my way!

-Ryan

Live at the Oprah Show!

You won’t believe it…
A friend of mine actually scored tickets to Oprah.

Wednesday morning, we found ourselves dressed to the nines, in a cab whizzing (literally, the cabbie was going about 55 on city roads) to Harpo Studios for a 7am Oprah Show taping.

Sadly, I’m somewhat limited in what I can reveal about the show itself. But I will say this: Oprah seemed, well, a little odd. It hit me almost immediately, when she was announced out and meandered onto set in a total daze.

Barefoot.

I thought she was trying to make a statement; something along the lines of “Black women are beautiful head-to-toe no matter what.” But no. She honestly didn’t know what the hell was going on. When she sat down, she ran through scripts for about 10 minutes while someone put on her shoes for her and someone else sprayed her hair. We all sat in an awkward silence, half smiling, half cringing. Excited, but also... confused.

The beginning was weird, but the actual show was a total trip. I kept having David At The Dentist moments, thinking to myself, "Is this real life?" And the guest rocked. So if you find yourself home sick on September 30th (or know how to work your DVR), tune in. I sat in the front row, so you may see me. Look for the orange scarf and mohawk-y fro.

Chicago ad events are... different.

Last night I attended my first Chicago industry event, the Chicago No Show. A bunch of DTASers took the train uptown to the location, a gritty music venue called The Riviera Theater. Felt like a field trip, and I was stoked to get to know my new co-workers.

As we entered, we learned that they weren’t serving any food. At all. At 7pm. Then the doorman got all pissy with me when I tried to retrieve my just-handed-over ticket so I could grab some grub across the street (Him: “Uhhh, I mean, I don’t even know which ticket is yours.” Me: “Dude, it’s the one on top that I just handed you.”).

A few of us left to eat and chat (probably the highlight of the night). When we got back, I started noticing all the differences between the Chicago scene and the Boston scene. Simply put, as I saw it last night: Boston = Daphne. Chicago = Velma. Which I actually dig. A lot. I’m not a Daphne at all. 

But there are some pros to Daphne-ness. Like hors d'oeuvres.

Back in the land of Velma, the bar closed for an hour during the awards ceremony. And then there was a… comedian? I think? (though he could have been someone really important) shouting about something on the stage. But the sound was all off and no one paid attention to him, so I couldn’t hear anything. The few words I caught:

“Easily offended…. IS NOT…. you.”
“Winning in Chicago…. HARD”
“Shot… bar… award…”

They only gave out 6 awards. So 6 people got to drink during the show. And everyone else stood in front of the bar, waiting/fuming.

 

Then the bar reopened for 5 minutes. Then it shut down again. Then it reopened again, as a cash bar.

By the time the band came on (which was a pretty cool add to the night), I was tired and ready to leave. So I did. And a weird man in a Technicolor sports jacket followed me out, asking me over and over if I worked at an “Advertising Agency.”

Velma. She’s a cool, down chick. She keeps it real. But sometimes she needs to get her ‘ish together.

My new boss is totally hot

Pro: Inspiring style.
Con: The money I will probably definitely spend on a new Fall wardrobe.

Tell me about your boss. I'm interested.

Oprah!

No, I haven't met her (yet...) but they're filming the Oprah Show season premier right outside of my office. They've shut down Michigan Ave. from Ohio to Wacker, so I walked through the craziness this morning and can see everything from our office windows. I'll try to get a better picture later today or tomorrow. And get coffee with her after she's finished taping, naturally.

Related - My New Friend

Bye bye Boston

It’s the weirdest thing ever. I’m moving. To Illinois.

Well actually, Chicago, which I didn’t think really counted as the Midwest until I saw road signs for Indiana and Milwaukee. Tripped me out.

But I digress.

I moved to Boston in 2001 as a freshman at Boston University. My first day of classes was an exciting and wonderful one.

And my second day was Tuesday, September 11th 2001.

I suddenly felt so far away from everyone important to me, and so isolated.

Anyone who has been reading this blog knows that I’ve had qualms with the racial landscape of this city. I’ve always felt a deep divide between the races, one that’s hard for a mixed girl like me to reconcile. I’ve tried to quell my frustration, but it’s always been there – from the day a white Jewish friend from Philly visited me at BU and asked “Where are all the freakin' Black people in this city??” to just a couple months ago, after I returned from my first trip to Chicago (where I spotted numerous people of color downtown sipping martinis and cokes at fine restaurants... gasp!) and found Boston just as segregated as I left it.

But now that I’m leaving, I’m going to forgive Boston for all that. Because there are so many wonderful things about this city that have shaped my life here:

The seafood.

The proximity to Philly, and Philly’s seafood (a dozen Maryland blue crabs? Yes please!),

cheesesteaks (that's a bride at Pat's Steaks. At 3 a.m.),

and people.

The foliage.

The sports. Or rather, the beer at the games… because, as you can see by my total lack of attention to what's actually happening in the game, I don’t give a crap about the Red Sox. Which I can say out loud without getting clocked now that I’m moving.

Saint Patrick’s Day. I’m not Irish at all, but I REALLY dig bag pipes. There’s something so urban about them.

The shenanigans.
      

But most importantly:

This face. These eyelashes. This man. He's meant and means more to me than I can even say.

_______________

The month of August will be my last month here in Boston. And I really want to celebrate the city, along with the people who have had a positive influence on my past 8 years.

Plus! There’s still so much I haven’t done here. I’ve never been to Martha’s Vinyard. I’ve never seen the art at the ICA. I’ve never taken a duck tour or been on a whale watch. I’ve never taken one of those Freedom Trail tours with a colonial person. And probably a whole bunch of other crap that I should have done by now.

So I’ll try and fit in as much as I can. And if you’re from the Boston area, suggestions welcome!

As far as this blog goes… obvs it has been in a transitional period for awhile now. So with the move, I’m thinking of taking a different angle. Something about adventures in a new city (inspired by my Jesse Jackson run-in, naturally). Maybe I’ll think up some alter ego like Beyonce/Sasha Fierce, see what happens, and document my findings here on CheapThrills... who knows?!

The future’s an exciting place to be.

 
(As you can see, I'm still pretty tickled by Chicago's beachfront)

My new friend

First night of a work trip to Chicago, and look who the wind sent me. Things are lookin' up.

Ryan and Jesse Jackson at a Gold Coast restaurant