May 24, 2007

Little Earthquakes

I guess it's just going to be one of those days.

For the last several months, Simon's been hemming and hawing about whether to go to Chicago with me over BlogHer weekend. This morning I found out that while I was waiting to hear from Simon, who was waiting to hear from his newly-moved-to-Chicago friend before making a decision, the bank of BlogHer rooms at the hotel where all the cool kids are staying (well, HeatherB, at least), is sold out. Argh argh argh. As of this moment, I still don't know if Simon's coming to Chicago or not, which means I still don't have a flight or a room or a roommate (Kristin? Krissa? what happened?), which means I'm a stressball. I'm not really mad at Simon (a little annoyed, yes), but my frustration with the situation is manifesting itself in crossed arms and knit brows and tense silences and I don't like it and neither does he. After all, he deserves a little slack after yesterday's stunt, wherein he passed a flowershop, thought about bringing me flowers at work, and then decided that donuts are better than flowers and so brought those instead (glazed and chocolate).

Here are two things I am mad about, though.

1. While enroute to lunch just now, I passed a group of four post-highschool hip-hop thugs on the street. The snippet I heard of their conversation went like this: "That's fucked up, man. Go give her her stuff back." "Naw. I don't care." A few minutes later, when I got to my favorite guilty-pleasure fast food joint, an elderly woman was just then realizing that her bag had been stolen. Luckily, two other patrons said they'd seen a bag on the street outside and went to retrieve it. It did indeed belong to the woman, and all her stuff was still inside. The thugs were long gone. What the hell is wrong with people?

2. When I returned to the office with my bag of guilty-pleasure fast food, my goody-goodiest coworker "tsk-tsk"ed me! Haven't I read Fast Food Nation? Haven't I seen Super-size Me? Don't I have any STANDARDS? I was this close to giving her a filet o' fist sandwich with a side of whoop-ass to go.

Posted by Leah at May 24, 2007 02:22 PM
Comments

I hope that all works out for BlogHer and the roomie. As for 1).. It makes me sad hearing those stories but I'm glad that the stuff was returned. and 2) haha

Posted by: Elizabeth at May 24, 2007 02:44 PM

Leah,
I called the W.Lakeshore last night and made reservations for a room at the Blogher rate. Try again - perhaps there was a cancellation?

Posted by: OMSH at May 24, 2007 03:37 PM

That's what we're going to try to do tonight. You give me hope! (See you there!)

Posted by: Leah at May 24, 2007 03:39 PM

You could always stay with Professor Shaikh in Chicago.

Posted by: Teddy at May 24, 2007 03:48 PM

That's DOCTOR Shaikh to you, hippie.

Posted by: Leah at May 24, 2007 03:51 PM

When is this big girlie festival?

Posted by: will at May 24, 2007 03:54 PM

I like fast food every now and again. (It's how I maintain my girlish figure.) Chances are you're just thinner than that co-worker and she's jealous you can eat McDonalds and stay svelte. Am I right?

Posted by: Amanda at May 24, 2007 04:06 PM

Wouldn't you like to know! Keep it in your pants, married boy.

Posted by: Leah at May 24, 2007 04:06 PM

Actually, Amanda, this girl is TINY. And bossy.

Posted by: Leah at May 24, 2007 04:07 PM

Have we ever discussed the ways in which I enjoy a good filet o' fish???? That's like my "oh my hell I'm having the worst day ever and my head is going to explode if I don't have some cheap tartar sauce" go to meal. YUM.

(Call the W and then email me and let me know what they say. I mean I'll still visit you in my pj's, bottle of wine in hand even if you're like five blocks away, but, ya know, check.)

Posted by: Heather B. at May 24, 2007 05:24 PM

That's NOT why I was asking. I'm asking because the wife and I will be in Chicago in early July. Plus you know, there's gonna be all those ladies there.


Posted by: will at May 24, 2007 05:36 PM

Sigh. I SO wish I could go to BlogHer and meet you. Amanda and I are concocting a road trip to California...

Posted by: Angella at May 24, 2007 08:43 PM

Hi Leah- I live in Chicago so if I can be of help in any way, let me know. I know of some cheaper hotels a little bit north of the city, by Lincoln Park, which are a short train ride downtown if you are interested. Or if worse comes to worse, you are welcome to stay with us as long as you don't mind cats sleeping on your face.

Posted by: Joni at May 25, 2007 06:07 AM

People who feel like they're allowed to be judgmental about other people's dietary choices blow my mind. The smug self-satisfaction of "How can you eat that garbage?" is supremely annoying.

Posted by: Doola! at May 25, 2007 07:16 AM

Would that Filet O'Fist come with tartar sauce? I figure if Olympic athletes eat McDonald's, it won't hurt me once or twice a month.

Consider this about the thugs: they all turned out to have consciences, and at least one was trying to do the right thing. Who knew the Voice of Reason uses expletives now?

I'm still waiting for a ManBlog symposium, complete with seminars on hunting, camping, kayaking and farting without letting your wife/girlfriend know it was you.

Posted by: Texas T-bone at May 25, 2007 09:42 AM

Hey, think of it this way: if you were fat, a total stranger would come up to you in line and tell you what you should order. (I wish I was joking about this.) People can be jerks under the guise of "help."

Posted by: the slackmistress at May 25, 2007 09:51 AM

1. look at it this way - since all the stuff was still in the old
lady's purse, the first dude apparently had somewhat of a positive
influence on the other dude. . .

2. you might point out to the coworker that supersize me was chock full of bad science. . . as an example - remember in the very
beginning of the movie where he was told to fast 24 hours before his initial tests 'cuz otherwise the test results would be skewed?. . . he never fasted for any of his subsequent tests which could explain why the results made it sound like he was dying. . .

Posted by: bloopy at May 25, 2007 10:47 AM

the nice thing is about making fast food a guilty pleasure rather than a daily meal is that you can work it into your healthy lifestyle with no worries. I'm having Pizza Hut (which is kinda bleh) at lunch for our goodbye party for one of our architects, and then I play volleyball for a few hours after work. See? All balances out - no need for Fast Food Nation. So there, skinny, bossy coworker lady. :)

Posted by: Rebecca at May 25, 2007 11:39 AM

Healthy lifestyle? What's that? :)

Posted by: Leah at May 25, 2007 11:45 AM

Are those fists organic?? Sorry, I am just going to sit here and chuckle at myself while you ponder how to politely pull my eyes from my sockets.

Have fun in Chicago...my sister lives right around there and it's so gawgiss around that time of year.

Posted by: monkey at May 25, 2007 12:26 PM

Email me. We can still be roomies, don't fret. I have to email Krissa too, but I think all will fall into place here.

Posted by: Kristin at May 26, 2007 08:54 PM