What's with these pseudo homeless 22 year olds in Wicker Park herded against opportune street corners (north/milwaukee/damen) donned in Khaki, clever hats, and $400 worth of tats and piercings? And why are they trying so hard to be so dirty? Is that real dirt? Did the buy it at Urban Outfitters....is it a loose powder or a compact? Here's $2.25, take the purple line up to Wilmette and use your parents shower!

Having spent many years working on Oak Street (specifically for Joan Weinstein) I fully understand that styles are cyclical. But what is with this dumpy, messy resurgence of metallic flats, especially on Lincoln Park College students (especially the 5’4” and shorter ones). Not good. It just exacerbates that already overplayed “OH MY GOD IM TOTALLY LATE FOR CLASS!” look.

Holy shit, it’s 8pm and your at a bar! Put on some f---ing heels, brush that greasy birds nest and try some damn Bare Esceuntuals for a change. Zits and worn out flats from DSW do not make you look “more approachable.”

My roommate brought home a fabulous little Dirt Devil floor vac (back in the day we used to call it an electric broom). I though, "Dirt Devil?! Is it any good?" Well, I

stand corrected....this mo fo can suck something fierce!!!! Mad skills......I could only imagine that section on it's resume...

Detail-oriented, with the ability to complete multiple tasks and projects in a high pressure environment

Demonstrated relationship-building skills with clients, customers and vendors

Ambitious and hardworking with a commitment to excellence

Can suck a lemon through a garden hose

Lord knows I love a good conspiracy theory. I am fascinated by the possibilities of them, and even moreso the fascinating belief systems that they foster in those who

don't claim to belong to them...The webs of congnitive strings and connections, and limbs that we go out on to make them connect... that we have created over the course of

years to describe these conspiracies that we aren't even sure exist. If anything, they exist, perhaps only, in the deeply layered stories and associations that we make in

our desperate attempt to defy our own banal, mortal existence.

They are much like the internet. The actual internet is non existent, intangible, has no real form, no walls, ceilings, reception desk, health plan, employees, board of

directors. No one actually ever meets. No buearacracy, no infrastructure, no administration. It exists in the connections that one computer user makes with others by

degrees of seperation.

Seriously, none of those people actually know Kevin Bacon, and barely know each other....and yet, in that ectoplasm, a deep connection exists forming it's own reality.

All of this is fabulously esoteric, and makes for terrific rhetoric, and discussion....until, of course, on the days I have a work meeting. Suddenely, the thought that

thousands of people, seperated by generations, intricately, and furiously organized to maintain a secret over the course of centuries goes out the window when 10 people

can't decide on what to order for lunch in the course of 20 minutes. Good day.

So I ran this morning to Coldplay. I know it's total emo douche music, but it seemed to work. I just pretended I was Gwyneth Paltrow being chased by a herd of Madonna's indigenous children....."take care of us!!!! Mama is on another world tour in Namibia with Donna, Nikki and Umfoofoo...let's have a play date with apple. We're tired of sewing her H&M dresses 12 hours everyday.......They don't even pick them up anymore!!!!"

8 loads of laundry after our hot water was finally turned back on (Landlord finally coughed up the $2000 he owed from the last two years before we rented) I have underwear and socks again but I am too tired to shower, groom, or even begin to have the wherewithal to contemplate briefs, boxers, or those colored bikinis that come in the tube.

I looked over on the bus today and noticed this woman with the tightest, biggest perm I've ever seen and 8 layers of hardcore Mary Kay pancake that took no less than a pod of grey whales and maybe a humpback to manufacture. But you've gotta give it up to her. I mean, in this weather, even on a mild summer day, if I walk more than half a block at a decent gait....I mean I'm not dripping in sweat, but the foundation is gonna migrate!!!!! And the fact that by 5pm her eyeshadow wasn't covering her areolas is a testament to her mad skills!!! Get your resume together honey, the sci fi channel could use an artist like you!!!