shperta!

my blog friend johnboy writes about sparta (the place, not the movie) here. fascinating.

(and i link to it because i think johnboy knows what he's talking about, being a classical scholar and all.)

It’s Not You, It’s Your Apartment - New York Times

It’s Not You, It’s Your Apartment - New York Times

some people may call us shallow but there are some of us who can only take so much when it comes to gettin' down in a craptacular apartment. and i've gotten down in some craptacular apartments. (i'll go on record and admit i've even had a craptacular apartment or two - but i rarely had sex in them. and i was depressed. very very depressed.)

a list of greatest hits:

C-, the financial analyst who lived in a studio in boystown with plastic lawn chairs instead of living room furniture mere inches away from a sagging twin bed and hot plate. he once chased me around his room with his pants around his knees but when i told him it wasn't working out i used his apartment, instead, as an excuse to get rid of him.

T-, a 30-something consultant who lived in a basement with stolen sugar packets, an old lava lamp and a couch that was clearly stolen from a dorm room.

B-, who lives/ed like he lives/ed in prison: one fork, one spoon, one cup, one towel and a mattress on the floor. his record collection, however, is/was stellar.

The Librarian, whose dilapidated connecticut shack was entirely the fault of his bossy, manipulative roommate who owned giant, shedding cats and her bertha-like brother who lived in the attic. not comfortable.

would love to hear of any domiciles that gave folks the heebie-jeebies when it came down to gettin' down.

wow. even the times knows about our train issues

A Rail System (and Patience) Are Stretched Thin in Chicago - New York Times

i made plans to meet a friend up in lincoln square on sunday for lunch.
i left the house shortly before noon; i walked to the chicago bus about 2-3 blocks away; it came after a teeny 3-5 minute wait. then i transferred to the brown line/franlkin stop which took *forever* to arrive. when i finally got to lincoln square it was 1.30.

90 minutes for a usual 45 minute train ride (if that.) unbelievable.

and this morning?
a normal 15 minute bus ride took twice the time.

ding perhaps shares too much

my raincoat smells funny. it smells like old guy.

what a day - when i left the house it was pitch black and i got to the office at 7 for a board meeting and then realized, halfway through the meeting, that after my shower this morning, i'd forgotten my instead cup.

niiice. so now my lower regions are stuffed with toilet paper.

and the day for the agency's spoken word event (at which B-'s sister will perform) is one month out. i'm looking at the nifty postcard advertising the event right now and trying to find a family resemblance but can't find one.

in the stirrups

so a couple weeks ago i went to the doctor for my bi-annual pelvic. (although i know better, i usually don't go to the doctor unless something is hanging out of me, bleeding.)

anyway, there i am, in the stirrups, being palpated by my doctor and missing the old cloth robes we used to wear during these kind of examinations.

then she goes, 'Hm.'
i think, Hm is never good.
i say, 'what's wrong?'
she says, 'did you know you have fibroids?'
'uh, no.'
'well, you do. do you know what they are?' palpate. palpate.
i say, 'big tumor-y things?'
she laughs while continuing to palpate. 'yes, big tumor-y things.' she snaps off the gloves and gets ready to do the pap.
'you got 'em. i'm going to recommend you get an ultrasound just so we see how big they are.'

i just nod and i can't help but think, wow, i really won't ever have children. i have fibroids! huzzah!*

god works in mysterious ways, doesn't He?

*for folks out there who may be befuddled at my logic re: infertility: fibroids keep growing back so i'd either have to get them lasered out all the time, take constant medication all the time, or get a hysterectomy. it's an inevitability. goodbye uterus.*

**and, indeed, god works mysteriously because my STD screening was totally clear! whoo hoo!!**

caught.

i've been a fugitive. for years, i've 'deferred' (avoided/postponed/whatever) my student loan from undergrad and it finally caught up to me today.

the guy on the phone today sort of chuckled and said, 'you're a hard one to locate, actually. i'm glad i caught up with you.'

'yeah, so am i.'

and so he did - from 1992 to the present - whoo hoo! and the principal didn't much rise over all that time. (yes, i already know i'm bad with money. no need to chastise me.)

but, there is a little sigh of relief; in two months my dept of education/student loan debt will be completely gone. why i waited this long, i don't know. it's not like the original $1300 was all that huge...

JT

i'm just too frakking old, you know?

thanks to a very generous friend and acquaintance, i went to the JT concert last night. (a school night!) i think my hearing is broken. oh, not that JT wasn't great. he was...awesome. he puts on a great r&b show. see him play the piano, strum the guitar, dance (and dance and dance and dance) and see him drink tequila and see him get all sensitive with 3 slow jams in a row. it was a little bit of prince, morris day, janet & michael jackson, and it was great. (i think he might even have the coolest back up singers on the planet.)

but it's exhausticating, being at the Allstate arena, listening to thousands of girls scream and watching timbaland blow everyone's mind with some weird 20 minute intermission show. and then riding home in a limo while 14 grown women sing along to JT all over again? my hearing is definitely broken.

however, i must admit: JT is the funkiest little white boy ever.

over at Alas, a Blog, a fascinating review of some back and forth. from Alas (and i heartily encourage y'all to follow the links and read the discussion):

*** ONGOING INTER-BLOG DEBATE ABOUT RACE, BEING A WHITE “RACE TRAITOR,” AND FEMINISM ***
Or, as Nine Pearls aptly calls it, “The White Lady Pity Party.” There are good link round-ups at Fetch Me My Axe and Renegade Evolution, so I won’t attempt to replicate their work. But I will point out three posts that were (for me) stand-outs: Brownfemipower’s typically super-sharp and well-written analysis; the “Clue Phone” post at Cassandra Says; and this milk-shot-out-my-nose visual post at My Private Casbah.

i'm not going to weigh in (because Brownfemipower's post really said it all) but the whole thing is just fascinating.

taboo: taboo for a reason

i was on the bbc news site because i wanted to read some news that had nothing to do with the united states when i came across this.

gick isn't even the word for it.

about my lost link list: i loved my link list. it wasn't super extensive like others' were, but it was made of my favorite things. it will return! soon. as soon as i've figured out where i put my favorite links...

the longest day. ever.

At long last, I have finished preparing my boss for her second lobby trip to Springfield. Not to whine, but here I go: Waah! I'm working really hard! Waah! I need a nap!

And underneath the whining, a quiet 'heh. i rock.'
...
so now that Forth & Towne is closing, i need to plan a massive shopping trip to hoard accessories and cute jackets for spring and summer. who's with me?
...
the political season is underway and i have only meh thoughts about hillary and obama in black churches to prove their street cred. (what cred do they seek, i wonder? is hillary really trying to show what a friend she is to black folks? and is obama really going to cave on the whole 'if you're mixed you're not black enough' meme? i guess so.) how ridiculous is our political process that we pay more attention to the stupid photo op than actual policy?

what i'd love to ask hillary:
without referencing the 60's, martin luther king or anyone from the civil rights era, why should black people pay any attention to you today?
...
in what is becoming an uncomfortable phone call habit, my father keeps asking me what the outcome was of my lunch with MichiGarry.

this lunch was back in january.

so my father is either *really* worried that i'm going to die unshriven and alone or he's entering senility.

is it bad that i'm hoping it's the latter?