. . . I distribute birth control. No actually today at Planned Parenthood I am in the security booth up front which I actually prefer to the birth control distribution process. I like it because I am in my own little bullet-resistant (someone will have to explain me the benefit of bullet "resistance" someday) booth with my gatorade and my granola bars and my internet access. What more could a girl want? This is pretty much the only time these days when I have a few minutes to blog and e-mail. Thank god it's a sunny day and people are ditching out on their pap smears, right? More time to write . . .
There has been much mention of the glorious girlie day out the five of us shared this week and I just wanted to touch on some important details that I wanted to record forever in internet immortality.
Chili Pepper. Although the oldest, probably my favorite of the Baton Lounge drag queens we saw on Wednesday night. Definitely the most expressive face with the widest range of looks to guilt you into giving her money and some killer friggin' legs too. Whenever the music would kick in, she would bust out some badass, surprisingly agile dance moves. But all the ladies were lovely and very entertaining.
Face licking. A hobby I think we need to parake in more often and I think Sarah would definitely agree. 'Nuf said.
Taco Bell. The best idea Mychela Burke has ever had at 3:30 in the morning. No, scratch that - the best idea she has ever had in the short history of her puny existence. Seriously though, I mowed those tacos like nobody's business.
Lying to my co-workers. Wish I could claim that I was badass enough to actually lie to those I work with but, much like Senior Ditch Day when I convinced my mom to call me out as sick, my boss and my trainee both knew where I really was on Thursday. Damn, I wish I wasn't such a coward. However, I am currently trying to foster the growth of the rebel within and we will touch on that in one of the later topics of conversation . . .
Fruishi. Holy sweet mother of god in a sidecar with chocolate jimmies and a lobster bib. (That's some weird quote I have always loved from some equally weird comic book my brother used to read when we were kids). The greatest invention since god created the earth. Sweet sugary rice rolls stuffed with yummy fresh fruit and garnished with even more yummy fresh fruit. Beautiful presentation and eaten with chopsticks and everything - fucking perfection. It brought me to tears. God bless America. We are so damn inventive.
Kissing Miki on the mouth. Something everyone should take a stab at but especially if she tracks down unbelievable tickets to a Cubs game on a lovely, sunny Thursday afternoon. Probably 14th row behind home plate, a little off to the 3rd base side, and she somehow managed to swindle seats right next to some Spanairds so I got to chatter in castellano and reminisce about the Iberian peninsula! With the return of Todd Hollandsworth, Todd Walker, and Corey Patterson plus with Carlos Zambrano on the mound, the Cubs were poised to absolutely trounce the pathetic Colorado Rockies who have been winning about 1 out of every 8 games on the road. But wait, then we all remember that the Cubs are forever cursed and while they can often muster the gumption to take on the most talented teams in baseball, they quiver and choke in the face of the weakest adversaries at all. Cue Colorado Rockies. We got stomped - 5 to 2. But we looked cute as hell, decked out in Cubs gear, we partook in all the baseball game day necessities - peanuts, beer, hot dogs, nachos, soft pretzels - and showed out support until the bitter end with our rally caps. The sun was quite lovely but thank god we were in the shade for most of the game or else our inevitable sunburns might have thrown the wrench in the "Oh-I-have-the-stomach-flu" works.
Naps. Holy shit are they underrated.
Tomato Tattoo. A delightful little slice of punky heaven right here in Chicago. I HIGHLY and ADAMANTLY and FERVERISHLY recommend this tattoo shoppe (yes it's that swanky) to anyone in the market for some quality inking. Rob, the dryly sardonic owner with the deadpan M.O. who is actually a big softie inside - fielded a call from mom during my session - created my tattoo. The man got inside my head, saw what I was thinking of, said "That's a good idea to start with but let me make it 10 times cooler," and did just that. When I saw his sketch my mouth fell open and most of my anxiety about the event melted away. It was awesome in the true sense of the word. The rest of my anxiety disapated when he first touched the tattoo gun (pen? needle? thingamabobber?) to my skin. Rob claimed to have a light touch and that he did. My inkwash hibiscus tattoo that was going to take 45 minutes but actually took more like 105 minutes, didn't really hurt at all. The tat looks JUST like the sketch did and I can't stop staring at it. Neither can Micah. :) Best of all, my favorite chicas were there the whole time to support me in my attempt to foster the growth of my inner rebel (tie-in) and to keep me entertained as I stared at the ceiling for almost 2 hours. I don't want to jump to conclusions or anything, but I can't help but wonder if the experience might have lit the tattoo fire within a couple of them . . .
Mountains of crab meat. Thank god my brother works at Joe's Stone Crab or else I might never have discovered the sheer bliss of their savory cuisine. And thank god I used to work there or else we might not have gotten a free pile of crab meat. Seriously, the Alaskan King Crab/Stone Crab appetizer would have cost us about $80. We devoured copious amounts of seafood that night and even though no one wanted a bite of dessert, I ordered a slice of key lime pie. When it arrived, we voraciously consumed that too, like a school of angry pirahnas on an unsuspecting bovine. Of course, the best part of the meal was the entertainment provided by none other than my brother Matt who played the role of our server but really, the Master of Ceremonies for the last event in our 28-hour carnival extravaganza of girlie quality time. We all concurred that dinner in a posh restaurant would be much less fun for rambunctious, ridiculous, not-quite-adults like ourselves if Brother Matt wasn't there be to even more ridiculous than us and make us feel at ease.
All in all, it couldn't have been a better bonding event even if we had been stranded on an inflatable raft in the Pacific for 28 hours. Plus no one wound up dehydrated, deranged, or dead. Although Sarah did get a bit of a sun burn. I got to share many laughs and new experiences with the best friends I have in the world and the best friends I will ever have in this lifetime. Although it was a nice, solid chunk of time for the five of us to spend together, I know it's just a slice of the time we have already shared and a sliver of the time we will share yet down the road. LA, DC, NY, Chi-town, Tuvalu . . . it won't matter where we are. I know that you ladies will always be the rock solid foundation of my life. I love you from here to the moon and back again.
