Tag Archives: humor

Things to note when writing my obituary

28 Dec

I read an article in the Chicago Sun-Times today about Cheetah the chimpanzee, who was featured in the 1930s Tarzan films, and died this week at age 80.

As much as I hate the exploitation of animals, I was inclined to read the entire article, which detailed the chimp’s life in a way very similar to a human life – Cheetah was an actor who loved finger painting and watching people laugh. Of particular interest to me was the last sentence of the article:

“Cobb says Cheetah wasn’t a troublemaker. Still, sanctuary volunteer Ron Priest says that when the chimp didn’t like what was going on, he would throw feces.”

Well that’s something you don’t read in an obit everyday.

So, here’s a note to my friends and loved ones: When writing my obituary, if you could please refrain from using the word “feces” it would be much appreciated.

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#duhwinning

26 Dec

Pete and I went shopping for desks a few weeks back.

Here’s the one I picked for myself:

Here’s the one I picked out for Pete:

(Guess what my favorite celebrity meltdown of the year was.)

Animal Autism

1 Nov

Last week, Pete and I were just hanging out and talking, and I asked him how his day at work had gone.

“Well, it was actually really sad,” he said. “This woman who owns an animal shelter for dogs with special needs came in and was trying to drum up fundraising money for the holiday season. These dogs are so sick – some of them only had three legs, and others have autism, and some even…”

This is where I interrupted.

How, I wondered aloud, could a dog have autism?

“Does it not like to cuddle and plays the piano really well? Does the dog not make eye contact and is into patterns and maps?” I asked.

“Well, I’m not sure, but the autistic dogs have seizures.”

“I think you mean epilepsy, not autism.”

“Oh yeah. I think you’re right.”

So that conversation got me thinking. I’m not sure if animals can have autism or not, but I found a few that I really do think fit the bill:

Chicago International Film Festival

10 Oct

A movie about depressing Chicago winters? Yes, please!

Let me just start this story with the following disclaimer: My father cannot sit through a movie in the theater without complaining about how annoying everyone around him is and how THAT GUY is chewing way too loudly. I never thought I would become that person. A few days ago, I had an experience that made me realize that I am my father.

Pete and I were lucky enough to attend the opening night of the Chicago International Film Festival. We got free food (which I think we actually stole, and then encouraged others to do the same, but that’s besides the point), rubbed elbows with celebrities like Gary Cole and Dennis Farina and attended a star-studded after-party (we SWEAR Billy Zane was there).

It should’ve been, like, the best night ever, but it was kind of a flop. Let me explain.

The main feature of the night was the premiere of this new indie film, “The Last Rites of Joe May”. We were soooo excited to be sitting in a world premiere!

Then the movie started. It’s about this old man who has no friends or family. While in the hospital with pneumonia, his landlord thinks he’s dead and gives his apartment away to a woman with an abusive boyfriend. Because that’s not depressing.

Oh, and did I mention the film takes place in the middle of a Chicago winter? I have to live through that ish every year and really wasn’t in the mood to be reminded of the sad, sunless season that starts in just a few weeks.

So about 20 minutes into the movie, I realized this film was not my cup of tea and started spacing out. That’s when I first took notice of the woman sitting next to me. She was wearing a bright blue skirt and leopard print high heels which should’ve been a sign that she was going to be a handful. She had this little clutch with a snap that made this little “POP!” every time she opened it.  She’d “POP!” it open every five minutes, search around for her phone with it’s glaring white light, then “POP!” it back closed. And she kept “POP!”-ing her gum. I think there was something wrong with her jaw because normal bubblegum bubbles are not that loud.

And then there was this smell. Someone was wearing wayyyyyyyyy too much perfume. And someone (might have been the same person, not sure) took a dump in their pants. Not even kidding, it really smelled like someone had an accident in a perfume shop, it was so terrible.

And I sat through that for over two hours. I wanted to die and I kept rubbing my temples and rolling my eyes. By the end, I was in a really horrible mood.

The only good thing that came out of the evening was that Pete dropped his (stolen) beer bottle on the ground and it rolled all the way down to the front of the deathly quiet theater. The whole theater broke out into applause and Pete said he felt like a real celebrity!

Today is Pete’s birthday. And you know what the only thing worse than that stupid movie I had to watch? This commercial:

Pete’s been singing this song all day, and I can’t say anything because it’s his birthday and I’m not allowed to be mean today. This is just not my week.

Home Alone

9 Oct

I am 27 years old. By this point in my life, I should be able to spend the night alone, but I can’t, and it’s really a problem.

I grew up with three sisters, two parents, and a dog. Since college, I’ve always had roommates, first friends, and now my life-roommate, Pete. (Half the time I don’t even want to talk to Pete, but just knowing that he’s there and that I COULD talk to him if I wanted to makes me feel less lonely.)

Well, the point of this story is that I have never spent more than a night or two in a home alone in my entire life. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s something I never had to get used to, or just because I’m a huge scaredy cat, but something terrible happens every single time I’m left home alone.

My parent’s house is particularly scary. It dates back to 1910, when there was this huge estate on our street. Our house was where the gardener lived. It fell into disrepair around the mid-century and a lot of work has been done to it since. (It’s amazing what my mom can dig up at the local historical society.) But it’s still really frickin’ scary and creaky.

A few years ago, I spent the night at my parents with my old dog, Mousse, to keep me company. He was 14 at the time, which would make him about a bijillion in dog years. In the middle of the night, we heard a huge “BANG!” coming from downstairs – it sounded like a broom fell over or something. Mousse and I both shot straight up and just stared at each other. “Can you go see what that was?!” I asked Mousse. He looked at me as if to say, “I’m 100 years old, you selfish, lazy piece of poo. YOU go see what that was.” And then he went back to sleep.

Well, the same thing happened this week, minus the trustworthy old dog (may he rest in peace). I was already bracing myself for a scary night when my parents asked me to sleepover while they were out of town. So that’s why I decided it would be a good idea to watch the new show, “American Horror Story” alone. It’s about an old haunted house. Fabulous!

In reality, that was a terrible idea. At 10:45 p.m., I prepared for bed like this:

At 11 p.m., I tried to wash my face with my eyes open in case someone tried to sneak up on me. At 11:30 p.m., I called Pete to say goodnight.

“I’M SLEEPING,” is how he answered the phone. “I CALLED YOU 50 MINUTES AGO.”

“Sorry I didn’t see that you called. I just wanted to say goodnight.”

“UGH….I’M SO TIRED!”

“I’m so scared. I was watching this show…”

“DON’T BE SCARED. LOVEYOUGOODNIGHT.”

At 12:45 a.m., I was laying in my sister’s bed with all the lights on trying to focus on my book until I fell asleep. Except my book was also about a haunted house (it’s called “The Thirteenth Tale” and I recommend it) so that wasn’t working out too well.

I don’t know how I eventually fell asleep , but I did and was THRILLED when I woke up and saw that the sun had some up. I was also exhausted at work that day.

Life Updates

28 Sep

I just wanted to share a few very important life updates:

1. The Wicker Park Floozy (see “Lies, deceit, and other things I love” for the full story) moved out of Pete’s old apartment building, according to neighborhood sources. I’m pretty bummed about that. I bet her sugar daddy broke up with her and she couldn’t afford the outrageous rent anymore. Darn.

2. The lady I mentioned (see “Cube Etiquette”) complained in a recent meeting that she goes home with a headache everyday because the area around her is too loud. And could everyone around her really try to keep it down because she’s on the phone all day. Huh.

3. I went to Minnesota over the weekend with my mom to visit my sister at St. Olaf College. Man, that place is a trip. People SING on campus there, like it’s a freakin’ episode of Glee or something! I went to the University of Iowa and the only thing people did there was drink alcohol and make poor choices.

4. Heard this song on Pandora radio yesterday and went crazy in my car.

Other than that, I’ve  just been super busy with work and wedding planning but hope to be posting more stories next month!

Conference

15 Sep

Earlier this summer, I attended a conference for work in Washington, D.C. I was only gone for a days, but missed my fiancé all the same.

When I got home, he asked how my trip was.

I said, “It was fine, but there was this weird guy there who was hitting on me ALL week. He said I had a ‘beautiful spirit’.”

“Did he have brain damage?” Pete asked.

So don’t be surprised when I run off with the guitarist from Journey.