Chicago, Chicago, it’s my kind of town
So, I was in Chicago this week, an awfully awesome city. And this guy from Nashville says, after you ma’am, are you going to Nashville too? And I’m like nope, New YORK. And he says, “wow, the big city. I wasn’t impressed with Chicago.” And I can’t figure out why this guy from Nashville, land of hush puppies and fried food and fried food isn’t impressed with Chicago, so I say, well I AM, (mainly because I just came from lunch where I ate this chocolate fusion cake which was hot fudge on chocolate, smothered in chocolate and who in the hell can not be impressed by that??). And he laughs, and I say, ANYWHERE out of the big dirty apple is impressive. And he laughs harder, in that southern kind of gentlemanly way (which is very impressive to me, but he’s really not my type, but at least I impressed SOMEONE. (That J-Date thing still isn’t panning out so I cancelled.)
But anyway, that is not the point of this story, just a little background info. Well, I chose to fly out of Midway Airport, because it never EVER fails that I sit on the ground at O’ Hare for like 2 or 3 or 4 hours (last time I was prepared with the Chinese from the food court-but it didn’t change the fact that it took me eight hours to go an 1 ½ flight.) So I rush like a banshee from my 3:15 meeting to catch a 5PM flight, and I’m like all happy because I get there ON TIME. But then I notice, the very serious nature of security here with big signs that say “NATIONAL HOMELAND SECURITY” and all the checkers are little white boys (or girls, but I can’t tell because their hair is so short, but my person is wearing a flower earring, so I assume it’s a girl until I see the name on the badge – which is DANIEL) ALL WEARING GUNS. And I’m like, “did I miss something? I mean did something serious happen here at Midway with Terrorism? “Cause at JFK, where 911 happened, you usually see a (and I’m really sorry if I’m insulting here) but a lazy security checker, chewing lots of gum and fooling around with the other security folks-and I generally feel somewhat insecure because the security is making me feel generally not so secure. But Midway for God’s sakes , it’s not exactly a hot bed of terrorism, but then again, what do I know? And I continue to see lots of Homeland Security Officers with guns, but I move on, until the very serious frowning x-ray machine lady (I can tell ‘cause she has long hair) is checking and rechecking eveyone’s stuff. As though the barefoot girl with stringy jeans and two pounds of makeup may actually have an atomic weapon or something. (And I didn’t even take OUT my plastic bag of mascara). That gets through, but my little brown purse doesn’t and needs to be swept AGAIN. And I start to panic that I’ll miss the 5 o’clock. But it passes security check 2, and I rush to the gate with well, 40 minutes to spare.
So, I start browsing around and see this very large exhibition (next to the Hudson Newspaper Stand -what is it about them in airports?) about soldiers and military and everything they’ve done for us, with the names of the soldiers that didn’t make it home. And it makes me sad. But then I start reading about keeping America safe and all that, and I thought I’d take a picture to show you guys. So I did, with my Blackberry, but then I realized it’s illegal to take pictures in an airport, oh what the hell. But more painfully my thoughts were, it’s just a God Damn shame that we even NEED a military and I am so sick of men killing each other, and woman in children in the Middle East, and Russia and the rest of the world.
Well, I’m sorry I’m rattling on and on and on, but somehow, I know you’d agree with me. And also, my damn flight it delayed indefinitely, ‘cause guess what? There are thunderstorms in New York. And Midway doesn’t have Chinese.
Laras Lousy Play List
Oh my God, how awesome is this? You can do it too! If I can, ANYONE CAN!
Coping
So Bella has OCD. Or at least, what I think is OCD. Well, let’s put it this way. Anytime she gets one tiny pimple or two or five (and it’s really NEVER MORE than five), it is cause for alarm, consternation, and multiple trips to Duane Reade for Clearasil, or calls to the Dermatologist, and, at the very least, at least 40 conversations about the mountainous puss spewing dots upon her face, all within a 12 hour day. Which has caused me to drink at least one if not two or five glasses of white wine (haven’t been able to make the switch to red despite my numerous attempts.) In the meantime I told her that if she mentioned those goddamn pimples one more time , I was going to start chanting the Barucha’s, (in Hebrew) loudly, whether or not we were in public. Which I did. At least 5 times today, ending quite resonantly, and loudly with AAAAMMMEEENNNN. Which at times caused her to laugh, but the final time, caused her to tell me she was “GOING TO MY DAD’S” and I’m like, buh BYE! So, she throws her clothes all in a huff in her bag, and storms out the door to her father’s. (She did bring her toothbrush) And I sigh, thinking, it was almost a good day. And then, I find in her room this paper: Calm down Overcome, Problem solve, Invite, Negotiate, Go for it. And I thought, “I did a great job with that.” Amen.
Garbage Can Eatery
I know I am not the only one who does this. Dump food in the garbage…so you don’t pig out and eat the whole goddamn chocolate cake. And then. Reconsider. All those starving children in Africa. I KNOW I am not the only one.
See??
The Hottest Guy
7PM SUNDAY NIGHT: Bella is watching a movie. On her iPod. 1″x1″ screen. (This took 1 hour to download, btw and cost me $4, but she hasn’t complained about her pimples for about 15 minutes, so it’s worth the money).
Bella: He is the hottest guy. EVER.
Me: I understand. I met my man.
Bella: You mean that short Italian guy we met in TJ Max?
Me: Yes.
3PM SUNDAY AFTERNOON: And it wasn’t just his accent. Shopping for a suitcase has never been like this before. Who would a thunk it? Just as I am deciding whether or not to spend $59 on a leather wallet in TJ Max (yes, can YOU believe it? In TJ’s? $59?) a hot (and I mean not Bella version hot, I mean grownup, adorable, Lara DEAN version HOT), man comes over to me and, in a fantastic accent, points to his leather bound book and asks “can you tell me where that (Filene’s) STORE is”. I fluttered. I sputtered. I flirted. I spirted: Yes, it’s downstairs! Where are you from?” Italia. OH MY GOD. “What else are you wanting to do in New York?” I enquired. “SHOP”. HE SHOPS!!! Not an American man. I then proceed to list all my favorite places and restaurants, and sightseeing trips. It takes up 2 pages in his book. Where are you staying? Christopher street. Not available. He’s gay. With my girlfriend, he says. OK, OK. Girlfriend, boyfriend, whatEVER. Did I really think he was coming over to enquire about ME?
And then, while in line, with my new wallet, I see HER. And, I think, well, she’s NOT SO PRETTY. And I ask Bella, she’s not so pretty right? And Bella agrees. And then, I’m like (What the fudge am I teaching Bella?? Good mother, send her right into the waiting arms of therapy). Well, I say, she’s obviously got more than looks, and everyone should look beyond looks. Looks really don’t matter much in the long run, you know?
And, she says, of course not mom.
7:05PM SUNDAY NIGHT:
Bella: He is just sooo hot.
Me: I understand. I really, really understand.
Death of a Cell Phone (aka–I HATE Verizon Wireless)
I hate Verizon. Yes. I do. I do indeed. In January 2007 I sadly buried my 7 year-old-StarTAC. Does anyone remember them? Anyone here OLD enough to remember them? And it was the time when cell phones were used, for GUESS WHAT??? MAKING PHONE CALLS. And they lasted. And lasted. And lasted.
But anyhow, back to Verizon. So, I’m finally forced to break down and buy a friggin’ MOTOKRZR (that the sales person told me was the best one out) and it can do everything but clean Bella’s room and the dishes, and I am so powerfully happy it’s like I finally found Jesus and had the best sex of my life all in one . And what a relief. I can now actually receive texts. Not like I was missing them before, but who the hell knew WHAT I was missing? And, being Blackberryless at the time, I could now AIM people during boring meetings. The only catch, and yes, it’s a biggy, was that I had to extend my contract for 2 years, so I can’t switch over to a new Wireless Co. without paying a ridiculous cancellation fee. But then, and (you didn’t read the fine print either did you?) comes cell phone battery hygiene. Did you know about this? Cause I sure as shit didn’t. My Startac NEVER complained. Her battery never DIED. But if you don’t read the fucking fine print on your cell phone charging instructions, you will never learn that : 1) If you charge your cell phone battery more than 6 times overnight or you will KILL it (which by the way costs $40 to replace). A cell phone usually charges after 2 hours completely. 2) Never talk on your cell phone battery while it’s charging. 3) Only charge your cell phone when it’s fully drained OR YOUR CELL PHONE WILL FORGET that it can fully charge. So I guess you are supposed to charge the phone when you put the Pot Roast up, or something like that. But what if you don’t cook?
Back to the MOTOKRZR–About a year later (6 years earlier than any problems with the Startac) the battery starts lasting only 6 hours, 4 hours, 1 hour, 15 minutes. OK time to go to the cell doc (aka VERIZON SERVICE). And, just like the doctor’s office you wait an hour OR TWO along with 15 other screaming yelling upset cell phone owners. And then Verizon tells you that it’s YOUR FAULT because you CHARGED OVERNIGHT. And you can’t even lie about this because they gingerly touch your battery and can feel the “bump created by over charging”. Yes, it’s true. So anyhow, me being me, complained enough so that I got the battery FREE (They didn’t want to add yet another yelling customer to their line.)
So, I’m happy as a clam (almost except for the 2 hour wait) and I merrily go my way. Until, SIX MONTHS LATER, I have the same exact problem with the freaking phone, because, it’s REALLY, REALLY hard to get my mind around the twisted fact that I CAN NOT charge my phone overnight (because I always did with the StarTAC) But then, something else is wrong with the KRZR. Did you know all these fantabulous phones need their software upgraded? Since my wonderful KRZR has not been updated since 2005 ( I don’t get that either since I didn’t get the phone until 2007), VERIZON, out of the kindness of their hearts, gave me a new phone, although this one’s not really NEW, it’s REFURBISHED. (Because they say, Motorola doesn’t make them anymore. But then I got online and saw that Motorola DOES make them.) Does this mean I now own someone else’s reject? But they want me to pay for a battery ($40–overnight charge law and all that. ) So I complained, a lot, and LOUDLY, and they gave me a new battery too. Free of charge. Because I just don’t feel, after spending $200 a month on this lousy phone service, I should have to keep worrying about a friggin’ cell phone battery. If you they can get man on the moon, they can get a cell phone battery that lasts. Without instructions. (And cleans toilets too…I need that more than ring tones for God Sakes.)
SUNDAY UPDATE: The “new” AKA refurbished KRZR I got last week is now BROKEN. Going back to the TITLE of this article: I HATE VERIZON WIRELESS.
The Attack of the Vacuum Monster
This, perhaps, is the only reason to ever pick up a vacuum. That and mile high dust bunnies.
Untitled from Lara Dean on Vimeo.