Tag Archives: Chicago

Into the fall

Man, have I mentioned this before?

Hate Autumn

All that happens in fall is white girls squee at their adorbs new trench and they just can’t even over this never ending pumpkin. There are jackets to be worn and blisters to be sprouted from the boots we have to be having but apparently these days we call them booties and we wear them with our ankle pants.

Are those really a thing?

"Ankle" pants

Ankle pants. For real, that’s what they are called. Ankle pants.

These pants claim to be worth $110. And they are also called ankle pants.

Versus the pants that don’t go to your ankles. I assume they are called ankle pants as if to say, hey look, there are my ankles.

My mother had a word for those.

Floods.

$110 for floods. Probably double for those hooker shoes there.

I digress. Do you SEE what fall does to me??

Desperate to hold on to summer, Jim and I planned a weekend getaway for his birthday. Then some fool set fire to an FAA facility and grounded half the flights in the nation.

sadface

sadface

So we did this instead.

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If that’s not clear, we had a bunch of booze, posed outside ugly sculptures, and sucked in our guts while we gleefully smiled in front of a fancy boat.

See that?

Summer.

It held on for the celebration of Jim.

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Thank you summer!

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Fall may begin.

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Lucky ’13

I’ve totally been waiting for the longest time to post this.

There were plenty of ups and downs in 2013. The most down was probably the idiocy that was my brief time in “fashion” and the fact that I now know that someone as hideous as The Beast exists in this world.

But there were more ups than downs, in the end. For starters, these guys:

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Looking all cute on Christmas…

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And giving the hugs…

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And wearing ties!

Then there was the joy of watching my husband cry in public, AGAIN:

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And he touched it too!!!

marney jim cup

Lucky Banana even got to go to opening night.

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The year 2013 was also the comeback of LASERS:

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And of course, Rob Ford.

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Thank you, Canada!

But the thing that I really like to show off about good old 2013, was the difference from beginning to end. On Jan. 1, 2013, I came home after a trip to Ireland. After that trip, at 5’4″ tall, I was officially 193 pounds, and apparently, no one told me that my clothes did not fit.

On Dec. 31, 2013, I am 150 pounds.

marney green sweater

See what I mean about the clothes? They couldn’t tell me that didn’t fit? Thanks, sisterhood, you jerks.

I think my ability to take a selfie has also improved, if you ask me. I’m pretty totes adorbs. I think that sweater is actually too big now.

You know, according to my BMI, I am still overweight. But I’d like to give a good old fashioned FU to the BMI. I’m not so fatty these days. Let’s try to keep it that way for 2014 — the year I turn 40!

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Hopefully my next Indi Mini-Marathon won’t be so plump.

Happy New Year, Y’all!

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Girls, girls, girls…

My mother is a wise woman. Every once in a while, I write stuff like that down, and I think she is out there making a note of it in one of her bizzillion bedside notebooks. But it’s truth.

My mother had much advice when I got married. Some of my favorites:

  • There will be times in your marriage when you want to rip his clothes off the moment he walks in the door, and there will be times when you will be angry that he has the nerve to breathe the same air as you. It passes. Marriage is a cycle.
  • Keep a cast iron skillet on the stove. If he hits you, hit him with that. Let him know that is why you keep it there (for real, I have a skillet on my stove).
  • When in doubt, make meatloaf. Men are gross and will eat meatloaf.

But the very very best advice my mother ever gave me, was not about marriage, but how to keep a part of yourself for outside the marriage. You do this, she said, with girlfriends.

When a gaggle of girlfriends came to town last weekend, my son giggled like, well, a 10-year-old, when I referred to them as “girlfriends.”

“Are you going to kiss???”

Good thing Jim was not there, because he would have been all, “Are you? Cool!”

But despite my husband Beavis’ thoughts that our weekend would entail a topless pillow fight, it was really, for me, just more proof that my mother was right.

“Remember,” she said. “You can live without a man. You cannot live without your girlfriends.”

Not that Mom advocates leaving our husbands, but she has a solid point. The guys that went from boyfriends to husbands could leave us and we would be sad. But if our girls left us, we would be crushed.

See what I mean?

Thanks ladies! Especially for the pillow fight!

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The daze of summer

I love summer. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. And again. And again. There are few things in this world that make me as happy as a hot sticky day. I absolutely adore those few nights a year when it’s so hot, the cover of the night sky cannot even bring the temperature down. Sitting on the porch in 85 degree temperatures at midnight just makes me smile. I don’t think I belong here in Illinois. It’s flipping cold in winter. But at the same time, I do think that the dreary nastiness of winter makes me far more appreciative of a little summer sweat.

This is how Jim feels about summer:

How classy is that? The truth of this picture is, Jim, despite being a ripe, mature 36 years of age, has no idea how to react when you point a camera in his direction. Doesn’t he look pissed? He told me the other day that he HATES summer. I think I will never forgive him.

Well, despite my husband’s inexplicable anger at the only good time of year, I do not fear the sun and the sweat which accompanies it. Last week I took the kids to a baseball game, but despite my intentions, we did not make it to the Taste of Chicago. So yesterday I put them on the train and away we went….

On the train. I was afraid George would not like it, but he was so excited. They made me sit up top.

Super lame blow-up games aren't so bad when they are free! Thanks Mayor Daley!

At the Millenium Park fountain.

I'm not totally sure how I feel about the fountain "sculpture." If you've never been there, the faces change. And then eventually, they purse their lips and water spits out, like they are spitting all over the children. Which of course, the kids adore. I tried to take a picture, but I needed new batteries and the camera clicked off. Stupid cheap AAs.

 Of course, a day in the city is not complete until you see something disturbing. Enter the other sculpture at the park that caught my eye:

I walked around this work of “art” looking for a title, but found none. So I can only assume this is entitled, “great big dong wrapped in foil.” In a park designed for children no less! I seriously should have been an artist, because I am certain I could have designed this nonsense.

All in all, it was a perfect summer day. I’ll let the boys sum it up for you:

Happy summer everyone!

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Rivalry, schmilvary

So, the Cubs and Sox are playing this weekend in the second installment of this year’s big crosstown classic. Which frankly, lost all its allure (in my opinion) when interleague play started. Back in the day, when it was just a single game that they played for the fans on an off day for both teams, that was good stuff. I had my Chicago Tribune issued poster with caricatures of Jim Frey and Tony LaRussa hanging on my closet door for much of my childhood.

Now, it’s even been named. This year, the winner gets…

wait for it…

The BP Cup!

No shit.

My brother promptly announced that while the cup itself is lovely, it leaks. He also thinks it should be handed to the loser, not the winner. Too bad, sucker, the Sox have already embarrassed the ever-living pants out of the Cubs, 4 games. You win! You win! You win! Take your BP Cup and put it in your BP case next to you BP World Series memorabilia from 2005 and celebrate with some of that nasty BP Miller Lite you drink on the South Side. It’s one championship the Cubs are happy to lose! Hoo!

Anyway, I headed to the game with the boys yesterday. Had a great time. The only real entertainment was when Carlos Zambrano had a temper tantrum in the dugout and was told to go home, you know, after giving up four runs in the first (final score 6-0 Sox). We had a pretty good view from our seats. Oh, I was so proud to be a Cubs fan at Comiskey U.S. Cellular Field. Those Ricketts kids are turning this team around!!! Thanks Omaha!

But there was one awesome highlight of the game. Check it out:

My sister Laura snapped this photo of me and the boys after the game. Sure, George looks like a total goober. But look how skinny I look! And no snide comments from those of you who are like, ummm, sure you look skinny, in you know, a total fatty type of way. Shut up, I look good!

Well worth the loss, Cubs! I’m ready for my BP Mother of the Year Award!

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Kane and able

There’s some exciting happenings here in the greater Chicagoland area this fine June day. And all thanks to a bunch of guys collectively known as the Chicago Blackhawks.

Let’s start with the obvious: I am not a hockey expert. Not even close. When I lived down in Baton Rouge, where hockey was surprisingly popular, Kayla, Nancy and I, along with other various WBRZers, would often find ourselves at a Baton Rouge Kingfish game. With no idea what was going on, but there were fights on the ice and cold beers in our hands and um, we were young and kinda hot and those were the days, you know what I mean?

My first Blackhawks hockey game was with my sister Laura at some point in my early 20’s. We found our seats at the United Center, somewhere around the ninth row off the ice. I turned around to put my jacket on the chair, and *WHACK* something hit my ass. I turned around and there were a few players warming up on the ice — not Hawks but I can’t remember who they were playing, maybe Tampa — who were actually laughing at me. It was a puck. My big old butt was a bulls eye. I looked around and found that puck on the ground under my seat. I think I still have it somewhere. I also dropped 40 pounds after that!

I watched my first Stanley Cup Final in 2000, while working nightside at WGNO. I do not remember who was playing or who even won (though Wikipedia tells me it was Dallas and New Jersey, and New Jersey won). I do remember that the game went into triple overtime one night… and double overtime the next game. And Al Michaels said, “If you don’t love hockey, you should.” That struck me as very funny and I thought, maybe I should watch hockey. But it wasn’t something I ever got into.

When I moved to Quad Cities, I went to several Quad City Mallards games. There’s a pattern here, in case you were wondering — people who work in television, especially in small markets, really have no issues getting free tickets to minor league games of any kind! I remember one game, when a guy was leaving the ice after a fairly nasty fight, and one of the dudes from the other team was chasing him. And we were all in the stands yelling “BEHIND YOU!!!” like it was a scary movie. That guy — the Mallard — got to the exit, waited for the guy to get close, and pulled the glass door behind him real fast so the would-be attacker just smacked himself into the glass. Hilarious. That was the last time I went to a hockey game until I met my husband in 2004.

Jim loves hockey. Loves it. Loves it so much that, knowing it was not a popular sport in these parts, did not TELL me that he loved it until after we were married. Made it sound like, sure, I’ll watch it if it’s on, but I mean, it’s no big deal. He was a big fat lying liar. He loves hockey. The day he realized I would sit and watch it with him, I think he fell in love with me in a whole new way.

Here’s Jim loving hockey as a baby:

OK, it’s a picture of a picture, so it’s cooked and not so great. But as you can see, he’s wearing a Blackhawks shirt.

Here’s Jim and his friend Eric loving hockey somewhere in the early 90’s:

No comments on the hair people. And by that I mean, no comments on the actual presence of hair. (That’s my thumb in the corner, too, I should really get a scanner.)

Just a few years ago, if you went to the United Center on hockey night, it was a ghost town. Totally dead. These days, it’s packed. Now, there are those folks (Tommy) who like to get into the issue of “true fans” versus “band wagon fans” and all that nonsense. That the “true” fans are the rough and tumble guys in the upper deck who stuck with the team even when they sucked, the same guys who couldn’t afford a playoff ticket even if they sold their alcohol-infused liver on the black market. To this, I say, bah!

First — who cares when someone became a fan? You’re not allowed to love a team because you just started loving them this year? That’s stupid.

Second — the Blackhawks just came on television last year. For years they were blacked out, because owner “Dollar Bill” Wertz wasn’t willing to put his team on television and give the product away for free. They only came on TV now because the old man kicked off and his son decided to actually let the fans WATCH what was happening. It’s asking a whole lot of people to stick with a team through and through when not only are they not winning, but you cannot even see them play unless you drive into the city, pay for parking, pay for a ticket (even a cheap one) and pay for concessions. My husband still did this — often. But there were plenty of smiling and cheering faces in the crowd this year and last year who did not. It does not, in my opinion, make them any less worthy as fans.

I asked Jim if I was one of these band wagon fans, and he quickly pointed out that I am not. That while I certainly am no expert, the team sucked balls when he first started taking me to games. And I tried, desperately, to learn the game. I get strategy and I can follow the puck (which is a feat, by the way, when you are trying to learn this sport — that stuff moves FAST) and I understand some of the calls and rules but not as many as I wish I did and I FINALLY get the line changes.

So last night, as we watched Game 6 of the Stanley Cup Finals, I reached over and checked Jim’s pulse. It was racing. Then, I checked my own, and it too was racing. Sweet Christmas, I AM a fan!!

Jim was deflated when the Flyers tied it up. And just like everyone in the world EXCEPT for Patrick Kane, we were more confused than excited when that winning goal went in the net during overtime. I’ll bet if we could turn back time and listen to the city of Chicago and the city of Philadelphia as a whole, we would hear a collective, “What the hell just happened?” PK was the ONLY person who knew that puck went in. When we watched it back in slow motion, you could pretty much hear most of my neighborhood cheer as we realized that the Stanley Cup was coming home to Chicago. Neighbors let off fireworks. Hank ran out the back door with a pot and spoon and banged away. Jim did NOT cry (ahem). Dudes… THAT.WAS.AWESOME. 49 years without a championship. It’s nice to be on this side every once in a while.

So thank you Blackhawks. Thank you for giving my husband a championship team. He loved the Hawks even when they were completely unloveable, and doesn’t care who is loving them now right with him. Mostly, thank you for giving us something to watch that is not baseball, because seriously, the Cubs and Sox blow. And thank you PK for knowing it before anyone else did. That was pretty cool.

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Fail USA and woooo hooo!

I’m pretty disheartened by all the to do going on over the airwaves and on the internet today. Seems Rush Limbaugh was in absolute GLEE that Chicago lost the Olympics, he said (paraphrasing here) that of course Chicago lost, because Obama is “an imbecile.”

Over at my very favorite hate speech website, Fox Nation, the joy is overwhelming. Some of the responses on the thread about the Olympic bid loss:

  • Waserum – “LMAO…IN YOU FACE OBAMA…IN YOUR FACE!!!!”
  • Barabrella – “I salute Copenhagen!!!! They too see what an egomaniac, and how arrogant Obama is. He thought he goes over there and kisses their a… and they’d bow! Hey Obama, how about cleaning up your crime and drug infested Chicago??. Why would they want to bring the Olympics to that dangerous hell hole????”
  • Laura S. – “I THINK THE 3 BIGGEST OVER-INFLATED EGOS ON THE PLANET JUST GOT ROYALLY SHOT DOWN!!!! (That would be obama, michelle & offra) I GUESS THE WORLD THINKS THEY AIN’T ALL THAT!!! Congrats, RIO!!!!!”
  • Mac – “Well I’m finally for the first time proud of the IOC.”
  • Reality Man – “Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha hahhahahaahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaahahahah ahahaahahahaahahahahahahahaaaaaaaahahhahahahahahahahahaha hahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Guess everybody doesn’t love your grandiose ass!!!!!!!! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah……..!!!!!!”
  • Delores – “yea, my team won!!!!!!!RIO….here they come!!!!”
  • be – “I can’t stop laughing!!”
  • Sector 001 – “Yes!!!! There is a God!”
  • rightwingmom – “FINALLY ~ Breaking News that made me SMILE!!!!”

There are thousands of posts just like it. Thousands. Thousands of people cheering against an American city hosting the Olympics. Thousands of people rejoicing that America lost out on this one. Thousands of posts coming from the same people who claim to have cornered the market on patriotism. Thousands of people who called ME unpatriotic for saying even one tiny little thing against Bush. There they all are, embracing the fact that Chicago lost as a complete and total WIN! HOOORAY!!!

Can anyone even IMAGINE what would have happened if this type of joyous rhetoric had come out of Limbaugh’s pill-popping mouth when New York City was removed from consideration for the Summer 2012 games? Sweet Jimminy, he would have been waterboarded and sent to live in San Fransisco! When New York loses, it’s a darn shame. But when Chicago loses, it’s time to bust out the champagne and oxcycotin cocktail!

By all indications, Rio put on a hell of a show to win this Olympic 2016 bid. The president of Brazil, Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva, led the Brazilian delegation in Denmark, and surprisingly, none of the pundits who claimed that the US President had no business being there had the same to say for the Brazilian President. Everything that I read seemed to indicate that even if Chicago had made the first cut, the games belonged to Rio. It’s bitter sweet. Sure it would have been nice, but it could have been risky. And there’s hope to try again for a future bid. But it still stings to lose. But, luckily, Chicago is half full of Cubs fans and all full of Bears and Hawks fans and we’re pretty good at taking it.

Still, I don’t get the happiness over the loss. My buddy GleN Beck, wearing, inexplicably, a tailored suit jacket, a maroon shirt and jeans, said he never had a problem with Chicago, despite his tirade yesterday. Instead, his beef was this: “Now that’s it’s off the front page of the paper, we will forget about the real meaning of the story: corruption and Valerie Jarrett. Corruption in Chicago that now lives in the White House.”

GleN Beck has endlessly accused Obama advisor Valerie Jarrett of some type of Olympic bid wrongdoing, but has yet to produce any proof of it. And by “proof,” I mean he’s not even smart enough to try and fake it. Or to manufacture it. He puts a picture of her on his chalk board, next to a picture of William Ayers and Obama and a picture of the Bolsheviks (you know — they’re all Marxist Commie Bastards!) and Richard Daley and Al Capone. TA DA! Politically corrupt. Nevermind that the White House continually debunks GleN’s weak claims.

He also at one point used the term “true ‘dat.” Hey GleN. The 90’s called. They want both their outfit AND their ridiculous white suburban slang back.

Tangent – GleN also included a poll result, from a Rasmussen Survey of 1,000 likely voters, about what issues they deem most important currently in this country. The results, as aired by GleN:

  • Government Ethics – 83%
  • Economy – 82%
  • Health Care – 73%

Dude. That adds up to 238%

Back to what I was saying. After Beck’s opening monologue where he got to say “true ‘dat” (which, I’ll bet, he’s been hanging on to that one since 1997. Seriously. He finally got to say it on the air!), he had the big old brass balls to bring on a bunch of mothers who refer to themselves as “The Sisterhood of the Mommy Patriots.” Now, I’m not going to give these women a hard time for wanting to organize Moms as a powerful political force, even if I have no desire to join their force. I will pick on their idiotic choice for a name, but that’s a different story. GleN had the NERVE to sit with these ladies and talk on and on about how very important it is that we all come together. GLEn FREAKING BECK. The man who says the President of the United States hates all white people wants us to COME TOGETHER. Hypocrisy much? Jackass.

Dudes, I’m just so sick of it. GleN Beck is an atrocious embarrassment to journalism. He spits out hate then acts shocked and persecuted that the White House will call him out on it. Just as he has the right to spew his hate, everyone else has the right to tell him to shut his damn trap — or, at a minimum, expose him for the whiny lying liar he is with a little thing we like to call “facts.” Don’t ever accuse GleN Beck or Rush Limbaugh of letting the truth get in the way of their “reporting.”

I think I should put myself in a time out. I’m off to indoctrinate my kids.

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