25 Years Later.

On Monday a co-worker asked me, "how does it feel to be 25?" after the Saturday celebration of my birthday.  Of course, it doesn't really feel like anything.  Just like 23 faded into 24, I can now rent a car at a lesser premium.  I'm not getting married, I don't have a kid, I work a pretty normal job in the most beautiful city ever; 25 looks pretty fantastic so far. Like an adult should, I decided to spend the day surrounded by friends at bars frequented by those just out of college.  The bar crawl supported the Make-A-Wish Foundation of Illinois, an organization near and dear to my heart, that I mentioned in past posts.  I won't echo my philanthropic speech but just wanted to say "thank you!" to all my friends who attended and got a little [or a lot] drunk for an amazing cause.  For anyone who sent a text, wrote on my facebook wall or whatever "thank you!" also because it means so much to have amazing people like you all in my life.

Enough of the sap. Cheers to the mid-20s!

"Let her eat cake!"

I don't, but other people "do"

I'm hardly a romantic and never grew up imagining my own wedding day.  Barbie and Ken married on occasion, but I was strictly the planner.  "The day" is definitely something on the back burner of what I have in mind for my immediate future.  But when I randomly stumbled across http://greenweddingshoes.com/ today, I fell a little in love and decided to share.

I still stand by the above statement, but looking at pretty things once awhile can't hurt.

Friday.

Tomorrow is my birthday, I ate a skillet cookie for lunch, and am unmotivated to work.  On that note, have a great one.

Everything we do, we do it big. G-Unit Style.

The second edition of my weekly softball e-mail.

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Hey G-Unit,

Tuesday night's rematch against estrogen fueled  rival, Booty Pants, translated into another W for SMG-Unit.  With a motivating pep talk by returning fearless leader, Scott, and the encouraging screams of "LET'S DO THIS" from John, the G-Unit took the lead early and held on throughout the game.  After the dust cleared, we emerged the winners in a 9-4 victory.  Fortunately for everyone (except this beat writer's willingness to embarrass you publicly) the night went rather smoothly.  There was little confrontation, our umpire was sober and capable, and there weren't any controversial plays that led to us losing our shit on the field.  Props to the team for hitting a number of line drives, keeping up the stellar defense, and overall proper softball mechanics.  (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NkRVTBsl1zk)  Big things happen.

Big thanks to Alycia and Nikki, G-Unit's Tuesday night best-dressed cheerleaders, for keeping the beer cold and cheering us on to a win.  Also, for presenting the methodology behind "food naming" and "Biggie Smalls."  http://tomhaverfoods.com/

After the game, we headed to Bar Louie for celebratory $1 burger night (tots & fries are $3 extra - you've been warned).  The patio was going fantastic and the night air crisp until dark clouds began to roll across the skyline.  Proud and unafraid, G-Unit drank its draft specials and stared the storm in the eye (it was kind of like this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K_pN312Te98).  That lasted all of 10 minutes before we headed inside for shelter.  (It was exactly like this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dYg-LtUxhcE).

After Bar Louie we parted ways, but only after Stevewas groped and prodded by a 20-year-old wearing striped J. Crew shorts and boat shoes.  According some whacked out Trib survey based on creeptastic Craigslist Missed Connections, the Red Line is the most romantic of all train lines.  Steve proves it's true.  (http://articles.chicagotribune.com/2010-09-30/news/ct-talk-romantic-trains-1001-20100930_1_romantic-train-brown-and-purple-lines-cta-s-red)

Reminder, we have next week off for the All-Star game.  Everyone enjoy your July 4th weekend!

Keepin' it real with the whole sha-bang-a-Bang (one bang),
Dot

G-g-g-g-Unit Steamrolls to a Victory

I was recently promoted to the official beat writer for my company 16" softball team and I am sharing this e-mails.  Last names and companies have not been included to protect the innocent.

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Hey G-Unit,

Apparently it's bad protocol to lie to the Tribune (lame) so today you get a two-in-one package of last night's scouting report.  First, the original hoax e-mail created to piss off our fearless leader and second, how awesome we are.  Enjoy.

E-mail one, the hoax.

The night was cool and the mountains on the Coors Lights blue as G-Unit rolled into Grant Park to take on sister agency, Booty Pants.  After a slightly awkward delay, involving a lack of Booty Pants, the game got going albeit only after the umpire drank 1.5 boxes of Jewel brand Cabernet.

Filling in as interim coach, Sgt. John I, led the team to an initial destroying of its competition.  Our feet were swift, our bats were mighty...then it came crashing to a halt.

Jeff, always one to keep it humble on the field, began a controlled argument with the seemingly drunk umpire.  Words were exchanged and a slight physical altercation occurred.  Jeff will be back next week pending physical examination of said umpire.  The rest of the game unfolded in Bad News Bears fashion as the Unit fell 15-17 after a slight massacre in the fifth.  Fortunately, casualties were few.  Resident lefty, Collin, was seen mumbling "don't text us about the lineup when you're on vacation...bull shit" as he threw the blue binder to the ground in disgust.  First base(wo)man, Colleen "Swissbeatz" was personally offended by the lack of hustle, proclaiming it for all of Grant Park to hear.

The Unit then drowned their sorrows in some post-game drinks at Shenanigans, followed by some Jennifer Grey dirty dancing at the Hangge Uppe. 

Also, if anyone has seen Gerard please let us and/or his family know.  He was last seen at Big Shitty at 3:17 a.m.
______

E-mail two, the fun ruining real one.

SMG-Unit showed what they were made of Tuesday night in Grant Park.  In reference to above, there was a delay and the umpire was probably intoxicated.

After some shaky innings, the G-Unit prepared to kick ass and take names in the 6th inning by bringing the game within one.  In the 7th, the levy broke and the Unit took back what was rightfully theirs.  Starting with Jason's momentum changing, close single at the top of the inning things could only go up from there.  The Unit went on to smack the ball around the field for awhile, get aggressive on the bases, and trigger a gratifying Spark defensive meltdown.  Seven runs later, the dust cleared and G-Unit was victorious in a 14-8 W.

Proud interim coach, John I, was in tears after the game and wiping his eyes behind his bifocals.  It's possible that it was joy or that he was still embarrassed about his early wipe out in center field.  Because we "will never speak about this again" (his words) we may never know.

Highlights of the night were plentiful including Jon's excellent back up in right field (we're contesting that call), Turtle's triumphant return to the mount and mid-inning grass relaxation, and the multiple base hits by the G-Unit ladies.  Even quiet Jeff lasted a full 7 innings without any major altercations.  I guess having a girlfriend does calm you down. - http://www.cosmopolitan.com/quizzes-games/online-quiz/cosmo_quiz_are_you_ready_to_settle_down

Enjoying the victory, the team turned to one of the favorite parts of the night...killing the case of beer.  Claude and Sam competed in a photo finish shot gun competition.  Replay video is still pending but a repeat in Starbar will be held later this afternoon.  Lotus invites to go out shortly.

Finally, props to Nikki for fending off the umpire's advances at catcher.  He actually asked for your number after the game...I gave him Scott's.

Until next time G-Unit!  All we do is win!
Dot

"Just play. Have fun. Enjoy the game." - M. Jordan

The beer dinner from last night aside, I am currently in some of the best athletic shape of my life.  I blame Chicago and its miles of bike and running trails, numerous park areas, and Groupon for its various deals on hot yoga.

A couple months ago I bought a bunch of attire from some little boutique called "Nike Running" then a month later acquired a fancy bike from Target.  I also bought a helmet, which gets me made fun of relentlessly, but I don't want my brains splattered!  Then I joined some sports leagues and just kept it going.  Did you know Chicago has dodgeball AND kickball AND some weird thing called 16-inch softball?  TRUTH.  First I ran a 5K then a 10K and everyone is talking to me about running something called a "half marathon" which is ridiculous because when the hell did I start to like running?  Jury is still out on the half, because that's hard.

Below are testaments to my current athletic prowess as I attempt to keep my competitive edge and not get chubby.  Coming soon: the video of me playing sand volleyball last week, where I fell backwards and landed on my ass.  However, I did hit it over the net so wapow!

I ran a 10k through a zoo in 56:20, then took a picture with a shoe. Normal Sunday morning.   

502 overall but 20 out of 103 in the F20-24 age group. I'll take it!

I channeled my catcher training last night and blocked home plate in a one-run game, bang-bang play situation.  This is the result.  I have been giving everyone, deserving or not, the thumbs up today.  Best part of the story?  We got the out and kept the lead that inning!  I would do it again if necessary.  

Not pictured: my bruised shin and cleat mark in my ankle.

In April, my gal friends and I also ran an Easter bunny themed 5K in this beautiful attire.  Awk-ward. 

Finally, some of the coolest BAMFs you may never know.

Won't you be my neighbor?

I'm inspired by the site Dear Girls Above Me.  In celebration of three years of cohabitation with my heterosexual life mate, and one of my best friends, I'm writing an open letter to our past and present neighbors.

Dearest neighbors,

Let us take a few moments to thank you for shaping the history of the Fry - Voyles Château, 1 and 2.

First, to the girls living above us in 2008.  We were so excited about our first big girls' apartment post-graduation.  It was a palace in our eyes, with amenities close to the after college mecca, Wrigleyville, that allowed us to get the collegiate partying "out of our system" at the dreaded Clark St. JBC.

What we would have gave to get some fucking sleep that summer, on account of your 80's rock mix.  As much as we love Journey and Bon Jovi, would it have KILLED you to put your iTunes on shuffle once in awhile?  Another favorite is when you would listen to the first two minutes of the song, then start over, on repeat.

That same summer Coldplay released "Viva La Vida" and changed all our lives forever.  You loved that song...twenty times in a row at deafening decibels at all hours of the day and night.  Never mind our twisted schedules of work and sleep, we woke up and for some reason I can't explain / I know St. Peter won't call my name / Never an honest word / But that was when I ruled the world.  It was time to enact sick revenge.

About a week later, post-Cubs game and all day weekend binger, we rolled in around 2 a.m. and way past the point of regular adult motor skills.  Side thanks to mom and dad, for the gift of computer speakers with a separate bass large enough to fill our home with sound.  Dear neighbor, Micah and I will never forget plugging in those speakers, holding them to the ceiling, and pressing "play" therefore releasing an explosion of "Viva La Vida" directly at your floor.  Oh sure, we heard your foot or shoe or whatever that was pounding.  All ten minutes of it.  Drunkenly falling off a chair and risking bone breaks were totally worth it.

We didn't feel bad when you moved out.

Next up, to the girls living upstairs #2.  Sorry your living situation was shortened by the fact that you two bitches fought constantly, apparently fueled by serious arguments as "it's YOUR turn to buy the TOILET PAPER."  Unfortunately, you two also brought Karma in with you as you were another set of loud music players.  A little more alternative, with the Dave Matthews Band all the time.  Fortunately, we were experienced, and cut you off the passive aggressive way by coming straight up the stairs.  I hope the next neighbor that you ignore, the one buzzing and knocking, lights a fire under your door.

Me, fist sore from knocking, viewed by Micah and the bottom of the stairs: "Hey.  I'm your neighbor.  And I like Ants Marching, don't get me wrong.  I just don't want to hear it through my ceiling at 8 a.m."
You, terribly awkward and bothered: "All you had to do is ask."
Me, perturbed by your ignorance: "That's exactly what I'm doing.  Please stop."

Fortunately you both grew to hate each other and moved your belongings, including the KISS boots you all must have worn indoors, and put your shit in the building's courtyard until evening.  God help me, I prayed for rain all through that sunny day.

For the new neighbors at the new apartment, I'll save most of this for another time.  This means you: immature dudes upstairs with friends that piss on our front door, guy in sweatpants whom waters the sidewalk, drunk girl in a prom dress.  Most of all you, awkward short man and your Delia*s freak wife downstairs with the bat shit crazy dog.  Believe us, if your dog bites us in the middle of doing laundry again it will be drop kicked.  Yep, it's us who purposefully press our own buzzer to cause chaos and relish in delight as your pup goes into a thirty minute freak out session.  It's retribution for your music playing (really, is that a CELLO?!) in the make-shift conservatory below Micah's room.

Until next time neighbors.

Gratefully yours,
The residents of The Fry-Voyles Château
 Please note Lincoln Park change of address