Today I attended my first City of Chicago traffic court hearing.
About a month ago (the end of the month, when all of the quotas or or numbers or whatever need to be met) I was pulled over for "failing to stop at a stop sign". Highlight of the stop: The bald spotted buzz cut sporting, muffin tops spilling way over the utility belt/gun holster combo, "da bearz" accented officer proclaiming "Bitch, just sign the ticket."
Fast forward.
Best Traffic Court Moment: Despite the fact that Officer Friendly decided to make an appearance the charges were eventually dropped because he "could not remember the details". Yay.
Worst Traffic Court Moment:
Judge: "Well, I think we can drop these charges...the City of Chicago will dismiss first offences by drivers 21 and under."
Me: "Um, I'm 27."
Judge: "You sure?"
Me: "Positive."
Judge: "Well, I'll be. How do you plead, then."
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
Laundromat Lament
We have a washer and dryer in the basement of our building. However, I usually tend to make the trek to the laundromat every few weeks so everything is done in two hours, rather than spending an entire day traveling back and forth to our nasty basement.
Never. Again.
Highlights from yesterday's trip to the Glamourous Olympus Laundromat:
Never. Again.
Highlights from yesterday's trip to the Glamourous Olympus Laundromat:
- Obnoxious family hogged all of the washers and spread their shit out all over the entire laundromat
- Obnoxious mom from obnoxious family spent the entire time I was there screaming at her ugly, obnoxious kid
- Obnoxious dad from obnoxious family spent the entire time lurking around, muttering, and leering at me
- Obnoxious grandma from obnoxious family stole the one cart I'd managed to sequester for myself
- Two of the dryers I was able to block off from obnoxious family's total takeover didn't work - ran for 30 minutes and the laundry was still soaked
- And my favorite: Busted ugly, obnoxious kid with his pants down full-on peeing in the back corner of the laundromat. Awesome.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
The Wrath of T
Ah, The Wrath of T.
As anyone who knows me even slightly is well aware, I have a wee bit of a temper and an attrociously foul mouth. That said, I haven't gotten this mad about anything in a really long time - it was almost refreshing. Cleansing. A rebirth by fire, or some such.
About a week ago, I went down to the garage to fetch my car and head to work. When I opened the garage door, however, there was a car parked directly in front of the garage. There was no way around it.
First instinct: honk my car horn a bunch of times and start screaming, " WHOEVER YOU ARE... MOVE YOUR FUCKING CAR."
Next step: Kick offending vehicle a few times in the hopes of setting off the car alarm.
When both of these options failed to elicit the desired response of remorseful idiot hustling out to move his/her stupid car, I huffed off to bang on a few of my neighbors' doors - no one answered.
Next step: Kick offending vehicle a few more times - no false hopes of car alarm eruption this time, just a strong desire to make some dents.
Success!
Then I called the cops to have the car towed. And waited and waited and waited and waited. Shockingly, I was becoming even more irritated and irrational at this point. Plus, I was out of cigarettes and my procurement of coffee was being delayed due to this anonymous assclown thinking it was ok to park in front of MY garage.
Around this time, some neighbors from across the alley came out of their garages and we commiserated on the general idiocy of humanity. It was all very lovely and heartwarming and neighborly.
Just as I was explaining how I was regretting my decision to call the police as it was impeding my next plan of throwing a brick through the windshield of the car, closing my garage back up, and calling somebody to drive me to work, there he was: my nemesis. He was sort of a low-rent, blond version of David Silver. But not the cute later days David Silver, the icky, early version with the bad pants. And he had one of my idiot stoner downstairs neighbors with him. They are another story entirely. Suffice it to say: I do not care for them. Apparently, they have a houseguest. Sweet.
LRBVDS: "whaddya mean ya gonna throw a brick through my window. ya coulda just come and got me."
CT: "How the fuck am I supposed to know who you are or where you are? Just get your stupid car out of my way."
LRBVDS: "ya don't gotta be such a bitch - i was right there in the living room."
CT: "Again, how the fuck am I supposed to know who you are or where you are? Just get your stupid car out of my way."
LRBVDS: "man. ya don't gotta be such a bitch"
CT: "Near-Tourettes in quality oupouring of curse words at top volume tsunami of rage unleashed."
Damn. It was excellent. I sort of wish I had a tape recorder.
Oh, and I keyed his car. Just a little bit.
As anyone who knows me even slightly is well aware, I have a wee bit of a temper and an attrociously foul mouth. That said, I haven't gotten this mad about anything in a really long time - it was almost refreshing. Cleansing. A rebirth by fire, or some such.
About a week ago, I went down to the garage to fetch my car and head to work. When I opened the garage door, however, there was a car parked directly in front of the garage. There was no way around it.
First instinct: honk my car horn a bunch of times and start screaming, " WHOEVER YOU ARE... MOVE YOUR FUCKING CAR."
Next step: Kick offending vehicle a few times in the hopes of setting off the car alarm.
When both of these options failed to elicit the desired response of remorseful idiot hustling out to move his/her stupid car, I huffed off to bang on a few of my neighbors' doors - no one answered.
Next step: Kick offending vehicle a few more times - no false hopes of car alarm eruption this time, just a strong desire to make some dents.
Success!
Then I called the cops to have the car towed. And waited and waited and waited and waited. Shockingly, I was becoming even more irritated and irrational at this point. Plus, I was out of cigarettes and my procurement of coffee was being delayed due to this anonymous assclown thinking it was ok to park in front of MY garage.
Around this time, some neighbors from across the alley came out of their garages and we commiserated on the general idiocy of humanity. It was all very lovely and heartwarming and neighborly.
Just as I was explaining how I was regretting my decision to call the police as it was impeding my next plan of throwing a brick through the windshield of the car, closing my garage back up, and calling somebody to drive me to work, there he was: my nemesis. He was sort of a low-rent, blond version of David Silver. But not the cute later days David Silver, the icky, early version with the bad pants. And he had one of my idiot stoner downstairs neighbors with him. They are another story entirely. Suffice it to say: I do not care for them. Apparently, they have a houseguest. Sweet.
LRBVDS: "whaddya mean ya gonna throw a brick through my window. ya coulda just come and got me."
CT: "How the fuck am I supposed to know who you are or where you are? Just get your stupid car out of my way."
LRBVDS: "ya don't gotta be such a bitch - i was right there in the living room."
CT: "Again, how the fuck am I supposed to know who you are or where you are? Just get your stupid car out of my way."
LRBVDS: "man. ya don't gotta be such a bitch"
CT: "Near-Tourettes in quality oupouring of curse words at top volume tsunami of rage unleashed."
Damn. It was excellent. I sort of wish I had a tape recorder.
Oh, and I keyed his car. Just a little bit.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Total Ellipse of the Heart
[15:53] lennYjaxn: the category is: geometry. consider your wager.
[15:53] lennYjaxn: it's an ellipse with an eccentricity of zero
[15:54] wrybrarian: solar?
[15:55] lennYjaxn: not eclipse
[15:59] wrybrarian: oh
[15:59] wrybrarian: i'm an ass
[15:59] lennYjaxn: yes.
[15:53] lennYjaxn: it's an ellipse with an eccentricity of zero
[15:54] wrybrarian: solar?
[15:55] lennYjaxn: not eclipse
[15:59] wrybrarian: oh
[15:59] wrybrarian: i'm an ass
[15:59] lennYjaxn: yes.
Most Important Meeting
So yesterday evening I had the most important meeting of my young career as a web designer. I presented the design and architecture of the new website to the president, provost, and two vice presidents of the University.
The meeting was a huge success; they loved the design, they were impressed with our work, they had some changes to content that are completely reasonable, and I couldn't have been happier or more proud at the end.
That is, until the last woman in the room (the Vice President for Communications) pointed out that I had my shirt buttoned incorrectly.
The meeting was a huge success; they loved the design, they were impressed with our work, they had some changes to content that are completely reasonable, and I couldn't have been happier or more proud at the end.
That is, until the last woman in the room (the Vice President for Communications) pointed out that I had my shirt buttoned incorrectly.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Underpants-related
This morning, like a good little soldier, I started my day off with a visit to the gym. Fast forward 30 minutes to my mad rush to shower and get to work only semi-late. I realize that I have not brought ANY underwear. No clean panties, no bra, no nothin.
So, today I am wearing my dirty undies inside out, and keeping my jacket closed over my WHITE shirt. Dammit.
So, today I am wearing my dirty undies inside out, and keeping my jacket closed over my WHITE shirt. Dammit.
Friday, October 12, 2007
The Soft or Brown Step
I have a feeling that every post I make on here will involve poop somehow. Such is the nature of my business.
One of my regular daily clients are (that's not proper English, is it? One--are? Oh well) two Cairn terriers which belong to a couple who definitely think of their pets as human children, and dote on them way too much. Their names are Talisker and Phoebe. Their names have nothing to do with the story, but there they are anyway.
So I was walking them today and I took what I like to call a "Soft Step" or "Brown Step", depending on the day and my mood. These terms, as you may or may not be able to guess, both apply to the act of stepping in feces, usually canine. Anyway, I scraped as much of it off as I could on the sidewalk, finished the walk, and took Talisker and Phoebe back to their rich-person house. I took off my shoes upon entering, and went to their kitchen sink to clean the rest off with running water and paper towels. They have a garbage disposal, so I assumed any waste would magically disappear, seeing as that is how garbage disposals work. I'm scrubbing away, and the man of the house comes home.
Fortunately I was 99% completed with my task, just putting the finishing touches on it. Also fortunately, the kitchen is at the back of the house. I quickly turned off the water (not having time to run the garbage disposal), tossed the stinky paper towels in the kitchen trash can and casually strolled to the front of the house. "Hello, Mr. McCourt", I said. "Just washing my hands real quick. Have a great weekend, sir."
As I was closing the door behind me I couldn't help but notice one clean-yet-wet shoeprint leaving a trail from the kitchen.
One of my regular daily clients are (that's not proper English, is it? One--are? Oh well) two Cairn terriers which belong to a couple who definitely think of their pets as human children, and dote on them way too much. Their names are Talisker and Phoebe. Their names have nothing to do with the story, but there they are anyway.
So I was walking them today and I took what I like to call a "Soft Step" or "Brown Step", depending on the day and my mood. These terms, as you may or may not be able to guess, both apply to the act of stepping in feces, usually canine. Anyway, I scraped as much of it off as I could on the sidewalk, finished the walk, and took Talisker and Phoebe back to their rich-person house. I took off my shoes upon entering, and went to their kitchen sink to clean the rest off with running water and paper towels. They have a garbage disposal, so I assumed any waste would magically disappear, seeing as that is how garbage disposals work. I'm scrubbing away, and the man of the house comes home.
Fortunately I was 99% completed with my task, just putting the finishing touches on it. Also fortunately, the kitchen is at the back of the house. I quickly turned off the water (not having time to run the garbage disposal), tossed the stinky paper towels in the kitchen trash can and casually strolled to the front of the house. "Hello, Mr. McCourt", I said. "Just washing my hands real quick. Have a great weekend, sir."
As I was closing the door behind me I couldn't help but notice one clean-yet-wet shoeprint leaving a trail from the kitchen.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
more shower presents
So the roommate has been gone for a couple of weeks now. (btw, she took the mystery shower penny with her when she moved). And the few times I did see her over the 8 months she lived with me, I always marveled at her crazy lady/medusa-esque hair. it was HUGE. Long, curly and everywhere. Now, I've never really had long hair, and even if my hair was twice as long as her it would take 10 of my baby thin hairs to make up one of hers.
Anyway, cut to a week or so ago, when my brother was visiting to help with some random home improvements before I try to get antother roommate. I thought I heard some weird noises when he was taking a shower, I just figured he didn't like my smelly body wash. But he comes out, after an uncharacteristically long shower asking:
Eric: did you notice your drain running slowly?
Me: no, why?
Eric: are you sure?
Me: well, maybe a little, what are you talking about?
Eric: go look in the shower.
ok, so I look in the shower and I see a hairball the size of one of cindy's fat kittens sitting on the edge of my tub. (I promise I am not exaggerating). I shreik and close the curtain. Eric thought it was hilarious. I almost threw up when I realize that was the noise I heard from the shower- him struggling with a hairy beast that wrapped itself around my drain. bleh! it still grosses me out. even throwing that thing away gave me the shudders.
moral of the story:
A. no more medusa roommates.
B. Thank goodness for brothers with strong stomachs.
Anyway, cut to a week or so ago, when my brother was visiting to help with some random home improvements before I try to get antother roommate. I thought I heard some weird noises when he was taking a shower, I just figured he didn't like my smelly body wash. But he comes out, after an uncharacteristically long shower asking:
Eric: did you notice your drain running slowly?
Me: no, why?
Eric: are you sure?
Me: well, maybe a little, what are you talking about?
Eric: go look in the shower.
ok, so I look in the shower and I see a hairball the size of one of cindy's fat kittens sitting on the edge of my tub. (I promise I am not exaggerating). I shreik and close the curtain. Eric thought it was hilarious. I almost threw up when I realize that was the noise I heard from the shower- him struggling with a hairy beast that wrapped itself around my drain. bleh! it still grosses me out. even throwing that thing away gave me the shudders.
moral of the story:
A. no more medusa roommates.
B. Thank goodness for brothers with strong stomachs.
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