A Public Service Announcement

This morning as I was walking to church, I was approached by a disheveled-looking man who asked me for money. He had the most typical story.

His wallet had just been stolen and he needed seven dollars so he could take the Metra train to his home in the suburbs. (The “Metra” is a local commuter train system that serves the suburbs.)

I moaned.

I’ve heard this story, or a variation of it, at least a dozen times. I guess these panhandlers think it’s a good way to make some quick money. Instead of requesting some change “for a cup of coffee,” they have developed this sad tale of being stranded in the city. If I can, then, provide them with the train fare, they will soon be within the loving bosom of their family.

It’s a quick way of making seven bucks a pop as opposed to 25 cents at a time.

Like I said, I’ve heard this story many times. Three times, they have just gotten off the bus from Mississippi and need train fare to get home to the suburbs. For some strange reason, it’s always Mississippi. I guess the good folks from down there don’t have lots of money for travel.

I was approached by the same guy twice within a six month period. He had a twist: He wore a security guard’s uniform to give himself an air of legitimacy. The second time he approached me saying that his wallet had been stolen, I remarked that perhaps he should re-think his choice of occupation as a security guard.

The thing is, when these guys launch into their story of a wallet being stolen and needing seven dollars for the Metra train, they’re never anywhere near the Metra train station. Or the bus station that had just deposited them from Mississippi for that matter.

Like I said, I groaned when he started in on this tired story.

I have all the compassion in the world for those who are less fortunate. I make a nice living, so I make sizeable donations to United Way and PBS. These panhandlers should be thanking me for making vegetarian cooking programs available to them.

I started to tell him that he should really think of something more original that needing seven bucks for the Metra train. Instead, I just mumbled a “sorry” and went on to get my latte at Starbucks.

Can't these guys come up with a different story?

Like I said, I have all the compassion in the world. But a lack of creativity is something that I cannot support, much less, tolerate.

The Sears Tower

Today was a beautiful autumn Saturday. Not wanting to waste it, I decided to walk across downtown to the Sears Tower in order to visit the new glass skyboxes on the 103rd floor. I figured that with Summer being long gone, there wouldn’t be many tourists crowding the place.

I’ve really been wanting to visit this new exhibit called “The Ledge” which consists of a glass box that hangs out from the observation deck that you can stand in. I also wanted to take some videos and photos of the experience.

I charged up my camera, got up early wanting to beat the crowds, walked all the way across downtown, (after stopping at Starbucks for a cafe Americano -- I'm not an animal, after all) only to discover there was a huge, long line of folks waiting to get through security.

This was an incredibly long line and it was moving about as fast as a glacier.
There were Cro-Magnons at the front of it.

That was just to get through security. Then you had to purchase your tickets. Then you had to take the elevator to the top. I could only imagine how impossible it would be to try and get into one of the few skyboxes.

I went home.

Stupid tourists. They ruined my plans.

I think that there should be an express line to the top of the Sears Tower for the residents of Chicago. Let the tourists be tourists -- but they shouldn’t impinge on our ability to visit our city when we want to.

On second thought, I’ll go visit the Sears Tower on a cold, Chicago wintery day when it’s ten below zero -- like a REAL Chicagoan.

Coconut & Lime Verbena Shampoo

While in Peoria for the umpteenth time the other day, I actually used the little bitty bottle of hotel shampoo. Normally, I bring my own shampoo in a little 3 oz. bottle because, that way, I know what I’m getting and my hair doesn’t end up smelling like Essence of Kiwi & Weasel Extract.

Also, during all my many business trips, I collect all the little bitty bottles of shampoo, conditioner, soap, facial creams until I have a giant box of them and then I donate them to a women’s shelter.

Well, that is my intention anyway. Right now, I just have a giant box of the stuff and it's getting gianter with every trip.

Anyway, my own little bottle of shampoo was empty and so I used the hotel’s shampoo which turned out to be Coconut & Lime Verbena Volumizing Shampoo.

Oh my goodness, my hair loved it.

Normally, I have really oily hair -- like an otter – but this shampoo made it so very soft and fluffy. All this time, I’ve been using plain ol’ Suave Clarifying Shampoo that costs something like $1.49 for a two-liter bottle at Walgreen’s. I wanted this Fancy Hotel Shampoo now.

But I only had the little bitty 1 oz bottle of the stuff. Whatever shall I do?

I googled it.

I think that whatever the problem, googling it solves everything.

Can’t think of words to a song?

Google it.

Does Olestra really cause anal seepage?

Google it.

Want a photo of Alanis Morrisette during the Toronto years when she looked like an orangutan?

Google it.

Just googling “coconut lime verbena shampoo” got me to the website that sells it. (Bath and Body Works.)

I have six bottles on the way.

My gosh, we are so spoiled these days.

Oh, and here is Alanis Morrisette during the Toronto years.

Jasmine Green Tea

A couple of months ago, I was with my friends eating at our most favoritest restaurant in the WWW (whole wide world), Lao Sze Chuan in Chinatown.

I sort of have an obsessive fear of being late for anything -- which really means I arrive inordinately early for everything. As usual, I had 30 minutes to kill so I decided to nose around in the various food shops in Chinatown while waiting for my friends. Yes, I can multi-task. (Dried squid air-bladders – hey, neat!)

I found this box of jasmine green tea that sounded really tasty. It had an even tastier price at $4.95 for 100 teabags. (“teabags” - - that’s funny.)

I brought it to work with me because I like to drink iced tea all afternoon. My desk drawer is festooned with no less that six different herbal varieties, along with three variations on an antihistimine theme, four kinds of lip balm, various denominations of stamps and two ceramic puppies. This would just add one more to the bunch.

Oh my goodness, this was the best tea EVER. To me, green tea doesn’t have much flavor and I’m not about to jump on the anti-oxidant bandwagon just because it’s good for you. (Mark my words. Ten years from now we’ll be advised to drink as much vodka as possible in order to cut down on the excessive amounts of anti-oxidants we’ve built up in our bodies.)

Anyway, this tea was incredible and it’s all I’ve been drinking for the past few weeks. Normally, I go through about four teabags (that’s funny) a day, so I soon realized I was close to running out. I tried to remember which food shop it was in Chinatown where I got this. I couldn’t remember to save me – they all look alike to me.

So, I hopped on the interwebs and found it here for $3.52 for a box of 100 teabags (hee-hee!).

I ordered six boxes which was just a little over twenty bucks for a huge supply.

I love it when I can come across good deals like that. Now I can happily be tea-bagging at work for a long time to come.

http://www.luckyvitamin.com/item/itemKey/69935

Peoria

I know this isn't much of an entry, but I made a promise to the blog gods that I would write every day during National Blog Posting Month.

I drove to Peoria last night after work for a work-related meeting this morning. Then I had a work-related lunch at the Crab Shack in Peoria. The crawfish buckets were ten dollars off today because the crawfish were about to go bad. Then I drove back to Chicago.

Now, I'm very very tired and want to sleep.

Peoria.

It will eat you up and spit you out if you're not careful.

NaBloPoMo - Rubber Highway Markers

Continuing on with NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month ) in which we’re supposed to write about things that interest us, I will now write about something that I used to be obsessed about that I’m sure no one else in the whole world has ever even thought about.

Back in the early 70s, the Texas Highway Department changed all the two-lane highway stripes from white to orange. I thought this was incredibly interesting as I was a 12 year old kid in a boring little town. Any changes of this sort helped to quell the boredom I was experiencing.

In order to paint the highway with the new stripes, the highway workers first applied these little rubber things to the center of the highway to mark where the painting truck was supposed to go. These little rubber things were a strip of black rubber, about two inches wide and eight inches long. They were then curled up sort of like a tortellini and nailed down to the asphalt in the center of the highway and spaced about ten yards apart.

Soon, all the highways in Texas had these little rubber tortellini things laid down the center of all the highways.

I became obsessed with them. I have no idea why. I was a strange kid.

On trips, I would just gaze out the window and try to get a closer look at them as they whizzed by at 70 mph.

I would plead with my mom or dad to stop and let me examine them close up. Of course, letting a 12 year old boy crouch in the middle of a highway really wasn’t conducive to safety and they never would stop.

Finally, one day I was with my brother and cousins as we were walking down the main thoroughfare, probably going to the dime store on the town square or something. I spotted some newly-laid rubber things in the middle of the highway and just couldn’t help myself. . . .

I darted out to the center of the highway and began tugging on one. I wanted it so badly! I finally had a chance to have my own rubber highway marker but it was firmly nailed down to the asphalt and wouldn’t let go.

An 18-wheeler appeared down the road and there I was, tugging away on this stupid highway marker. It began blowing its horn, but I was hell-bent on getting my little treasure. My brother and cousins were yelling at me, but I still wouldn’t give up on the task at hand.

Finally, it popped out and I scurried to safety with by beloved rubber highway marker!

I kept it for quite a while, closely examining its contours, measuring its dimensions. I’m sure I probably smelled it a couple of times.

Soon, all the highways were marked with orange stripes instead of white ones. The rubber highway markers had served their purpose and gradually disintegrated away. I don’t recall them ever being used again after that.

I’d like to think that if you go to my little bitty hometown in Texas, you’ll notice a couple of highway stripes that are just a little bit out of line – no doubt due to a rubber highway marker having been stolen by a weird little 12 year old boy.

NaBloPoMo

What is NaBloPoMo?

Why, it’s National Blog Posting Month. November has been designated the month in which you are supposed to write a blog entry every day on topics that interest you.

Sounds good to me.

Today’s topic: Brussels sprouts.

Yes, they interest me. I’m that easy.

I really love Brussels sprouts. A lot. These cruciferous little boogers are good for you too. For those of you who don’t like them, try this:

Steam them whole for about five minutes. Meanwhile, sauté some bacon, crumble in some chestnuts to the baconey juices (okay, it’s bacon grease) tumble in the steamed Brussels sprouts, add a splosh of marsala and a teaspoon of sugar. Thank you, Nigella Lawson.

Last night, I made some autumnal roasted veggies that are so good they will just make you fall on the floor and holler:

Peel and cube a butternut squash (I know I’ve lost some of you right there), cut Brussels sprouts in half, dice an onion into chunks, tumble them in a bowl with some powdered chicken bullion, a sprinkling of sugar and a few glurps of olive oil. Tump it all on a foil-lined baking sheet and roast them at 400 until charred. About 30-40 minutes.

You can’t stop eating it, especially if you put some butter on it.

Remember When . . .

Last night, I was telling the lovely Miss Healthypants about advances in the telephone industry that I’ve seen in my lifetime.

She replied, “Man, your are old.”

Actually, I’m not that old. It’s just that my little bitty home town in Texas was really behind the times. (They didn’t get push-button phones until 1983.)

So, for all the old folks out there, can any of you remember the following?

1. Telling the operator that you’d like to place a person-to-person long-distance call.

2. Placing a station-to-station long-distance phone call.

3. Phone numbers that contained letters. (Our phone number was MI 5-3191. Before that, it was OL 9-2368)

4. Sending or receiving a telegram.

5. Requesting the operator to place an overseas phone call and waiting for her to call you back when it was connected.

6. The first time you placed a long-distance phone call by dialing it yourself.

7. Calling someone who had a party line.

8. Knowing what a party line is.

9. The first time you ever used a push-button phone.

10. The thrill of using call-waiting for the first time.

Yes, I can remember all those things. (Man, I am old.)

How did we ever survive back then before the age of cell phones, email, Facebook, and online pornography?

I’ll tell you how -- We used clunky dial phones, wrote letters, visited each other in person and looked at underwear photos in the JC Penney catalogue like God intended.

I sound like an old fuddy-duddy and that’s not the case. Ever since I placed my first long-distance, direct-dialed phone call at the age of ten, (which was totally groovy) I’ve been a communication technology nerd.

Big time.

In the mid-eighties, I worked in the International department at a bank in Austin and practically got aroused every time I sent a Telex to Taiwan or Singapore. I’d even smoke a cigarette afterward.

I love the fact that I can play Scrabble on Facebook with friends all over the Earf.
Love. It.

I get nervous whenever I forget to bring my cell phone with me anywhere.

See? I fully embrace technology.

However, I still get insanely irritated whenever anyone texts me. That’s when I pick up my 1964 rotary dial Trimline phone, dial their number and ask them what the hell they wanted.

Man, I am old.

Halloween Tips

Are you concerned about how your overly-effeminate little boy will fare this Halloween? Have you run out of ways to "butch up" that little prancer of yours as he goes door-to-door?

Well, thanks to these great tips, all your problems have been solved!

(This really is one of the funniest things I've seen in a long time.)

Winter is Coming

Here’s a photo of the farmer’s market in its final hour as it is closing down for the winter months. It’s been here every Tuesday in the plaza of my workplace since May and I really enjoy its bounty every week. I said goodbye today to the happy vendors that I’ve come to know over the last few months.

When it opens during the chilly month of May, spring onions, leeks, snap peas, and tart little strawberries herald the end of winter. As the warm summer months take over, a huge abundance of fresh corn, tomatoes and juicy red peppers are there to enjoy.

Today, as the temperature was in the high 40s, I stopped by as they were putting everything away for the last time. Winter is right around the corner and with that, I bought two pounds of Brussels sprouts, some acorn squash, and a few apples that had managed to straggle in just before the cider house ruled.

And that’s just as it should be.