Slide, Slide, Slippity-Slide

Apparently Coolio has been doing what he does just to survive, because today is his birthday. He is 44. I find this amusing because I sincerely thought he was younger, and also because I feel like he shouldn't even have a birthday at all because he doesn't seem like a real person.

I learned this startling piece of information on the Captivate Network, which for the non modern high rise working set, is a news service that appears on tiny screens inside of elevators. It struck me funny that Coolio's birthday was included as a piece of news today: Is today a slow birthday day and that's the only celebrity they could find, or is the programmer stuck in a time warp, still listening to Coolio albums unironically more than halfway through 2007? It's a mystery.

As usual, the best part is the thing that is happening in my head. Because I keep imagining people coming up to Coolio yelling "Happy Birthday!" and reaching to give him a nice birthday hug...but his hair keeps poking everyone in the eye.

Happy birthday, Coolio. I hope you are still having a fantastic voyage through gangster's paradise.

Amberance Is Losing Her Touch

H-Town: yo
me: word
H-Town: what up?
me: just work. you?
H-Town: the same
bored
me: that should have been "just work. et tu?"
H-Town: heh
me: it would have been funnier
H-Town: you failed
way to go, loser
me: NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!
H-Town: *ends friendship*

Moderation In All Things...

Except Cheddar Chex Mix, where I am apparently compelled to eat the entire bag.

99 Pink Balloons

I am sick and heavily medicated. Don't judge me.

me: so what was the clown car thing before? is someone having quadruplets or something?
H-town: friends and i were just discussing women who have a lot of babies
it's a vagina, not a clown car
so we laughed at that
me: i love that phrase
H-town: me too
me: i don't want lots of babies. clowns are scary
H-town: true dat
clowns are weird
weird = able to stab people at any time
me: i don't really understand clowns. the only thing is i like the ones that are good at making balloon animals. but i think maybe you don't have to be a clown to learn that
H-town: you don't
me: if i knew how to do that i'd make a bunch of obscene things probably. that's how i roll
H-town: balloon wangs would be easy to make, i'd want to see you make balloon cootchies
that's a challenge
complete with different colored balloons
me: i was thinking a balloon vagina with a bunch of balloon clowns coming out of it
H-town: hahaha
i'd pay you money to make that
me: if i ever learn this craft, that will be my goal

The 2nd Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Today is my half birthday! What is that? It's the day that is exactly 6 months after my last birthday and 6 months before my next one. A sort of birthday equinox if you will. And mine is today.

This may seem silly to you but think about it: am I not a completely silly person? Exactly. Also until recently I was not into my birthday. All through my early 20s I dreaded it. I took to laying in bed all day in a funk, being overly dramatic and complaining: (huge affected sigh) "I don't know WHAT I'm going to do. My life is slipping away, slipping away...." Clearly this was entirely the wrong attitude, so really I NEED to celebrate all my half birthdays to make up for all the ones I missed while I was busy being a miserable person.

Much like on my actual birthday, I am making a huge deal out of it. I sent the following text to a half dozen of my friends just now:

It's my half birthday! Come to Tai's later and watch me bounce off of stuff!

My friends can best be described as tolerant.

I think when I get older I'll start celebrating quarter birthdays as well. If people complain I can look at them gravely and say "You never know when you're going to go." Maybe a bit of a downer, but I'm guessing they will all end up buying me a drink.

Rainbow Brite Revisited

I have received several angry messages from friends due to my sucky posting habits asking for pictures of my new hair, so without further ado I give you...me:





Please note my posed posture and come hither look. This is because Melle secretly wants to be a fashion photographer, also evidenced here:



Descriptions thus far have ranged from "Rainbow Brite had sex with you hair!" to "A gay pride parade threw up on your head":


Personally I enjoy it. Commence with comments from the peanut gallery...now.

Reading Comprehension

In the following sentence, which of the underlined words appears out of place but actually isn't?



Last night, I went to Uncle Julio's to drink alcohol and eat cheese with my boyfriend.

Rainbow Brite

Today Melle plans to "explore Roy G. Biv" on my head.

Pros and Cons

The interns last day in the office was this past Thursday. This has both benefits and drawbacks:

• Pro - There will be no one here to talk me into getting ice cream that I don't need or drinking a margarita on our lunch break (true story).
• Con - There will be no one to go to lunch with, period.
• Pro - No one will be interrupting a conversation I am having with my boss by throwing a stress ball at me over the cubicle wall.
• Con - Said stress ball will also not bounce once and then land in my cup of tea, thereby cracking me up.
• Pro - I will not feel guilty when I don't have any work for him to do.
• Con - I will not feel guilty for not doing my own work because the intern and I decided to watch Charlie the Unicorn or Weird Al videos on YouTube.

"I bet you eat the crap out of some lobster."
"No, she wears pants, but they're not THE pants."
"Why don't you suck a bag of dicks?"
"Someone has to piss excellence around here."
Intern, you will be missed.

The Way To My Heart Is Apparently Through My Apartment

Funny what life throws in your lap. Boys for example.

I haven't had any funny stories to post lately, mainly because I'm spending all of my time with a boy who is not MrSteve nor the bartender nor the owner and my stories about those events are not particularly funny: they are sappy, and cutesy, and romantic, and disturbingly cheerful and likely to make the average Bizzybiz reader throw up. Not that funny things don't happen - it's just that they are pretty much inside jokes that only I and this boy would find funny. Who has an actual name by the way, but I haven't quite asked him if it was OK to blog about him and I can't think of a good blogname (Captain Awesome? Smiley McSmileson? Hey You, Nice Ass?) so for now he will just be some boy I am dancing around telling you about.

My point though, was that I wasn't looking for this boy. I had decided quite honestly that it was OK to be single forever and ever amen since I have such wicked awesome friends. "Find a boy" was not on my to-do list. "Find an apartment" is what was on the list. The ridiculously hot music and baseball loving leasing agent with the great sense of humor and the smile that will make you lose consciousness due to it's brilliance was wholly unexpected.

I have become a cliche. It's a good thing I'm so good at making fun of myself.

I Watched Spinal Tap This Week

MrSteve: Out? In? On the moon?
Me: Home, but I wish I could hang out on the moon!
MrSteve: Pity. The moon would be cool.
Me: I know. I would be bouncing all over the place
MrSteve: And that would be different from regular you how?
Me: Well obviously because I could bounce higher what with the lower gravity
MrSteve: My point was that you bounce quite happily about under 1 g.
Me: Right but on the moon I could bounce up to 11

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

So the guy that called the police when he found a skull boiling in a pot at some guys house? Yeah, we know that guy. He's a hairdresser and part time drag queen. His brother cuts the bartender's hair. We saw him at the Social Distortion show last October dressed up like a cat with giant boobs and platform shoes.

Chicago. It's a small town, it just happens to have 3 million people in it.

Fredrick the Entertainer

About forever ago I had bought tickets to see Naked Raygun and their special guests Dillinger 4 at House of Blues. The show was Friday night, and I took Melle as payback for her strong arming me into the Scissor Sisters show a few months back (although I have to admit, a man in black and white vertical striped, sequin super short shorts dry humping an amp does have a degree of entertainment value). The best thing about punk rock shows is the people - you never know what kind of characters you're going to meet. In this particular case we met Freddie.

Freddie is a chubby, bald (I couldn't tell if this was by nature or on purpose) 26 year old. He was at the show with his step-brother Lou, or as Freddie called him "Lou-dog". Freddie could accurately be described as "high-strung". Our conversation started when Freddie decided that Melle was carrying a fake ID, because it was obvious to him that she was not 26. In fairness to Freddie, she did tell him she was "going to be 27" which is technically true, but made it look like she was lying as she will not actually be 27 for another 8 months. I was slightly offended that he was not at all troubled when I told him I was 29.

Freddie quickly noticed Melle's tattoo, which is hard not to do because it is beautiful and also covers half her arm. We were then given a rundown of Freddie's various tattoos. "This is my dad's initials, and this one is for my mom. You see this one here? That one says 'strength through struggle', which is important. I got that one when I was straight-edge." I found it hard to believe that Freddie, who was drunk off his ass, was ever straight-edge and I told him so. "Well, I mean, except for the drugs. But my friends were straight-edge." He insisted to us several times that this particular tattoo was "important", even though it was obvious to me he wasn't gaining any strength and was clearly losing his struggle. "Then these, do you see these?" he asked, pointing to some dark patches on his forearm. "These are cigarette burns. There's another fresh one under this band aid too. These are all from my buddies that died. I had three buddies die in the last year, so I burned myself with a cigarette for each one so I'd remember, you know? That's what we do in my neighborhood."

I didn't know and neither did Melle. But as stupid as the whole thing seemed it got worse when we asked him where he was from that this is what they do in his neighborhood, and he told us Rogers Park (home of Loyola University Chicago and a Jesuit religious order).

Freddie also seems to lack a short-term memory. A guy went past us trying to get closer to the stage and elbowed Freddie a little bit in the process. Freddie flipped out. "Fuck man! Did you see that guy? He fuckin hit me right in the fuckin face! I'm gonna go fuckin kill that guy!" The guy hadn't actually hit Freddie in the face, unless he had a second face on his upper chest. In preparation to go fuckin kill that guy, he did the athlete pour with the rest of his beer. This is the thing where you open your mouth and pour your beverage over your tongue and down the whole front of your shirt without actually swallowing anything. He then threw his empty on the ground with authority and started for the stairs. I grabbed the back of his shirt to stop him and told him it wasn't worth it to get thrown out right at the start of Naked Raygun's set. This stopped him from going but he continued to stand there, breathing heavily and fuming.

Ten minutes later he erupted again. "No man, fuck it, I'm gonna go kill that fuckin guy that spilled beer all over my shirt. Fuck! Look at what he did to my shirt!" Melle and I looked at Lou-dog who just shrugged with resignation. It was clear he'd been to shows with Freddie before.

Eventually we had to part with Freddie and Lou-Dog because Melle had obliterated her liver, but I will always think fondly of him and his crazy cigarette burning ways. And that's how to attend a punk rock show.

Amberance: Guru

MrSteve: Back when my job was fun, today would have been a perfect day to go for a test drive.
Me: Yeah, well, eventually everything starts to suck.

later...

MrSteve: I have to start looking for a new place soon as well.
Me: Really? why?
MrSteve: Because I hate my place. The only thing keeping me there was the garage and now she says she needs her garage back. Actually, I'm thinking about maybe leaving here altogether to go somewhere else.
Me: Seriously? Why would you leave Chicago? Chicago is awesome! I'm going to live here forever!
MrSteve: As a wise philosopher once said, "Eventually everything starts to suck."

Caffeine Buzzkill

I have walked into the kitchen at work to heat up my tea which has gotten cold. A co-worker is in there pouring coffee.

Co-worker (all chipper and shit at 9:30 am): I've just got to have my caffeine in the morning! Hee hee!
Me: Yeah I was off the caffeine for a while, but I'm back up to two cups of tea a day. I can't drink coffee though.
Co-worker: Oh really?
Me: Yeah, it's way too much caffeine for me, but mostly it's because I don't like it. Coffee tastes like a shoe.
Co-worker: Ha ha! Well I add sweetener and milk to mine. That should make it better, right?
Me: No, then it just tastes like a sweetened, milky shoe.

Moving Right Along

So the bartender and I are all moved now, and boy what a relief. The bartender now has an actual bedroom with a closet and a door, and I have a room that actually fits all both pieces of furniture I have. And let's not forget the jacuzzi.

Speaking of the jacuzzi: have I mentioned the part where I'm largely inept at life? I'm clumsy, you see, and I don't have a lot of what they call "common sense". These traits are not especially conducive to things like moving. I started the move by shattering the glass in a picture frame, and ended it by shattering a glass that made it through the actual moving part intact when I was putting it away in the kitchen. In the middle I did the following:

• Dropped a dining room chair on my ankle. Actually I do that kind of thing all the time, but this time I dropped it hard enough to form an impact crater on my leg. Seriously. It bruised up all angry and purple, and as it has faded, the bruising in the middle is gone and there is a purple ring around the impact point of the leg of the chair. I'm just like the moon now.
• Asked for help. The old apartment had a key that opened everything. The new apartment has 6: The front two building doors, the mail box, the front door, the deadbolt on the front door, the back door and the basement laundry room. The building also has a friendly caretaker, and I know he is friendly because my first order of business upon beginning my move was to lock myself out of the apartment. I had taken a few things over myself because I didn't want the movers to break them (it's always better for me to break things myself). I had left the keys in the door. On my way down to make another trip, I actually thought to myself "Do I need to take the keys with me?" and I answered myself "No, because I am leaving this door open and therefore won't have to unlock it." I go out to the car, grab more stuff, walk back to the building and...oh yeah, I can't get in the building without the keys. Luckily I heard a Spanish language soap opera coming from the caretakers window, and he was happy to let me in after I buzzed the door. Unfortunately, I can now never need anything ever again because I am too embarrassed to speak to him.
• Took a bath. So sore was I from unpacking things, and so excited was I that I now have a jacuzzi, I decide that my top priority was to take a nice relaxing bath. A bubble bath. Right, so for anyone who does not immediately see the problem with this (which I'm sure is just me) you can't take a bubble bath and a jacuzzi soak at the same time unless your plan is to overflow your entire house with bubbles. Luckily I didn't actually overflow the tub, I just had so many suds I had to take a shower afterwards to get them off me.

Clearly moving is not my forte. Or bathing.

The Hiatus

OMFG, as the kids would say.

What with all the working hard, and the trying to find a new apartment (hi Aaron), and Reading Challenge 2007, and Easter, and margarita drinking (it can be a full time job sometimes) it's hard to find the time to check the blogs I read, let alone contribute to my own.

Reading Challenge 2007 takes up most of my spare time. This is a project Heather devised. Knowing that I enjoy reading and wanting to read more often herself, we made a pact at the beginning of this year to encourage each other to read more. So far it's worked out extremely well. I've completed 22 books so far this year, meaning I've been averaging about 2-3 books a week. After a slow start, Heather is doing very well too. I like to think this is because I publicly shamed her on MySpace.

A great side benefit to Reading Challenge 2007 is the getting of delicious mail. Heather and I have been exchanging books with the assistance of the US Postal Service, and the last package she sent me came with a box of homemade cookies, which I managed to eat all of in about 20 minutes. Heather makes a mean cookie. I wanted to send her back a pie, but I'm not sure it would survive the trip. Suggestions?

Yesterday I got the invitation to my cousin's wedding in the mail. I am very happy for him, but also it's really weird. This is primarily because I used to babysit him, which means someone I used to babysit is old enough to get married, which means theoretically that I am old enough to get married, which can't possibly be correct as I clearly don't qualify as a grown up. Despite the weird I am very excited. In other exciting family news, I'm going to be a faunt, which is short for fake aunt. Simmy is in the process of growing her first offspring, which should be fully cooked sometime in September. This will be the first baby of the family, which is super exciting, but which I secretly fear is going to get me booted from the kids table.

Melle and I have discovered a new favorite bar, Fernando's on Lincoln near my apartment. Fernando's is like a mexican version of Tai's Til 4 but with food. There is a real Fernando (like there is a real Tai) who has had the restaurant for decades (Tai's has been in business over 45 years). Fernando is retired but is there every day (just like Tai) and his son is running the restaurant now (just like Tai's son, the owner). I started calling it Mexi-Tai's. Melle calls it "the office" as in "Hey, I need to go spend some time at the office". She thinks this is hilarious, probably because she's never actually worked in an office. The margaritas are delicious. Melle told Fernando that they were better than the margaritas she had in Mexico. Fernando scoffed. "They don't know how to make a margarita in Mexico," he told us. "They do it all wrong. The make them with Fanta!"

I will be moving to my new apartment next week and I love love love it. For over two years I have been looking back with nostalgia on the days in Cleveland when I had a garbage disposal. My new apartment has one, along with a jacuzzi tub and central air. And a huge deck. All of my dreams are coming true!

Are You Bored? Circle One: YES/NO

The Intern is leaving for his real life job in a couple of months. This makes me sad because he is the only other person who will act juvenile with me and pass stupid notes back and forth in meetings. Also because it's funny when he gets irritated that I call his girlfriend "The Pants".

Let Me Know If I'm Leering

You know how when you first get something pierced you have to have some kind of jewelry in it for a while to prevent the hole from closing up? It's a really good thing vaginas aren't like that.

I have not had a dry spell like this since, um, ever. I am going crazy. Not having any sex is making it so that I can't think about anything else. (Also having sex makes it so I can't think about anything else too, so maybe it's me.) I have now begun sizing up every single human that walks past me in terms of mating with them. No seriously, I mean everyone. Are you 80 years old? Are you a toothless hobo who smells like moth balls? IT DOESN'T MATTER. I am checking you out. How you doin?

Case in point: My company is considering a new website and we've been listening to pitches from different website developers, as you do. Or rather, other people have been listening. I have been picturing all of them naked. Today my coworker asked, "So what do you think of those guys from Friday? Do you think they're better than the first group?" My actual answer: "I don't really know. I think the first group was more attractive. Well, actually the two guys from Friday weren't bad, it was just that one guy. Something bad happened to his head. It looks like the moon." Probably I should not be trusted with anything important right now.

Deal A Meal Is My Favorite Card Game

H-town: i love a good mumu
me: if i was huge that is totally what i'd wear
H-Town: ladies and gentlemen - the GOOD MUMUS!!
of course
they're comfy
me: i would be proud to wear my mumu. i would say "I may have a bigga figga but you don't get to wear a mumu!"
H-Town: haha
would you wear a tent?
if it got to that point?
i hope i'd be able to stop you before you reached tent size
me: I would cut a hefty bag into daisy duke shorts
i would go clubbing in it
H-Town: i'd want to stop you before you got to "we have to move you with a forklift" size
me: wait! if you don't stop me, does it mean i get to meet richard simmons again? because that would be awesome
H-Town: hmm that's a tough call
me: it would almost be worth it to become morbidly obese just to have richard simmons show up in person at my house
and cry
H-Town: and give you a pair of his hot pants to eventually fit into
me: he would sob openly as i showed him my refrigerator filled with cheese
actually i could show him that right now
H-Town: it's starting!
i'm willing to bet that if you wrote him a letter and said the only way you thought it possible to meet him was to gain 500lbs, he might come meet you now
he could promise to cry anyway
me: holy crap that's brilliant! we should get started right now
"My dearest Richard
H-Town: send him photos of you eating donuts and pizzas
threatening to put barbecue sauce on your cat
then say your cat's joined the cause
me: "You may not remember me, but I was the little blond girl who sat on your lap when you made an appearance at parmatown mall in ohio in the early 80's. Anyway, I've never forgotten your spandex biker shorts and have been dying to meet you again ever since...."
H-Town: hahaha
"should you not come to chicago to meet me soon, I will start to eat more and more until I cannot physically leave my apartment without the help of heavy machinery"
"enclosed is a photo of me eating a doughnut - I'm starting right now!"
me: every few months i could send him pictures of me getting fatter
i'd rig them so that i don't fit in the frame to make my situation look dire
H-Town: and show your shrine to him, surrounded by candles and empty entenmann's boxes
me: "please help. I can only wear my old bracelets as rings now"
H-Town: haha
me: "xoxo, Amberance"
H-Town: "i haven't seen my cat in weeks, I fear she may be stuck in one of my folds..."
me: "because i am so huge my perception of size is skewed. I fear I may have eaten my cat a few weeks ago thinking she was a nice juicy peach"
H-Town: haha
me: i really do need richard simmons though. there is not another human alive who has a chance of talking me into exercising. he's the only trainer in history who is not mean and nazi-like
H-Town: same here, i'd do aerobics with him
me: "If you just do 10 more sit ups, I promise I'll jump up and down and clap my hands and squeal"
H-Town: done
me: no doubt