Thoughts of Today

1. Comment on our blog! Or should I not say that? We are cool and secure.
2. Kevin Wilson is reading a book called "Cats in the Louvre." Lisa thinks this is the best book ever. It is a book filled with all the paintings involving cats in the Louvre.
3. Lisa thinks that Brandy should take dance lessons at Maternity Belly Dance, one of the dance studios nearest to our home.
4. We are getting cable and internet tomorrow! Even though I am currently writing this from internet in our house! But tomorrow, I'll get to start paying MY OWN MONEY in order to use the internet which will make it so much better! Stealing is wrong.
5. Brandy and I want to recapture the original spirit of this blog. Which was excited! This post seems like a fake and feeble attempt. Brandy thinks even saying that makes the blog sound negative. We aren't negative!
6. But it is cold in Chicago!
7. We had a party this weekend! We saw many of our friends! This is our neighbor Matt Thomas!

8. KATIE SABELLA
9. I went to a biker bar the other night called Handle Bar. It's a biker bar... FOR CYCLISTS! I went with Michael Clemente and Maggie Culhane and we talked about books AS USUAL.
10. Today a magazine called "YOUR LOGAN SQUARE" appeared on our doorstep! We felt welcomed to the neighborhood!
11. Sean Adams spilled tomato sauce on our floor and did not clean it up. He is no longer welcome in our home, even though he is an award-winning writer.
12. The cat eats Brandy's jade plant every day. Brandy also broke everything in her room because she did not anchor her shelves to the wall.
13. I am so clever and funny, I cannot help but laugh as I write these!
14. I transcribe things Brandy is saying in passing onto this blog! BLURGH HA!
15. We might go to the Shedd Aquarium! I AM SO STOKED! BABY BELUGA! And pirannhas. The fish of death.
16. People played Spin the Bottle at our party.
17. Today we talked to Erica on skype!
18. I refuse to bike to work when the wind is above 30mph. I am lazy.
19. The other night, we think someone may have been attacked on our street. But it might have been a dog howling. We don't get a daily paper, so we'll never really know. The apartments below and next to us are open if anyone wants to be our neighbors!
20. Sasha hung this artwork above our toilet. Everyone at our party talked about it for hours! :





Oh, and this is my favorite song right now: I'M GOING DOWN BY BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN COMPLETE WITH PHOTO MONTAGE!

PICTURES!

Here is a kind of view of our apartment! It's from the party. Notice Maggie came in from Valpo. Notice the yellow walls. Notice how many people are at our party... and then REALIZE THAT THIS WAS BEFORE MANY PEOPLE EVEN CAME! Party got mad cray-zay-YO!!!

Oprah and James Taylor! Best friends.

I (LISA) am making an O for Oprah with the city of Chicago skyline in the back. I am also sunburned, sweaty, and I smell because Oprah's handlers kept me in a giant playpen cage with 600 other people for much of the afternoon.



Brandy told me she wanted a picture of her and Oprah. Then this picture happened.

hahahhahahahahahaha


A picture from the old days, when we came to Chicago to audition for Oprah. Oh, the old days of commuting to our now-place of LIVING

JOB-HUNTING (just as hard as quail hunting, if not harder)

I will begin this post with two statistics that have guided my week:

1. Out of about 53 metropolitan areas in the U.S., Chicago ranks around 47th in "Ability to Find a Job" aka "Chicago you are the 47th best place to be unemployed aka the 6th worst."
2. Out of 53 metropolitan areas in the U.S., Chicago ranks 3rd in "Places for Singles to Connect! <3 <3 <3!" which means "Chicago you are seeping with single people, from your buses to your pizza restaurants."

So with regards to number 1, my job search, as Brandy described yesterday, has been difficult. I began by searching for nannying jobs with this online site that seems pretty good(pretty good= anything other than Craigslist nannies). But the crazy part has been... NONE of these families are what I expect when I end up meeting them. They'll have these completely normal or completely bizarre profiles on the website and then be completely bizarre or completely normal. I have been grilled about my ability to sleep coach infants, quizzed on infant CPR, and lectured on how to discipline a child... all in my "meet and greet" sessions. Then there was the family that just left when I showed up and left me with their kids and their dog. Their child proceeded to try and milk me, all while calling me "GRANDMA." Most of the time, these situations involve me thinking "What the hell am I doing in this strange person's house, why have they left me with their child, and why did they give their child a glass bottle during his 'throwing' phase?"

But on the whole, I think I just come across as a very untrustworthy person, because the majority of my nanny meet and greets have been total busts, despite my summer nannying experience, my work with infants and pregnant woman, my years of neighborhood babysitting, my fluency in French, and my Notre Dame degree. I don't know what these people want. A 47 year old woman?

I have found a few families I really like though. The family that contacted me because "they liked that I went to Uganda" and the mom who lives down the street. These families reassure me that I don't give off child predator vibes. So that's comforting. If nannying fails, my next courses of action include possible ushering for the Joffrey Ballet (bahhh I WOULD LOVE IT), waitressing at a Dutch pancake house, or making sandwiches where Mallory works. Today, I feel better.

So we'll move onto number 2. The Chicago singles scene.

Last night, for Sasha's birthday, I reaped the fruits of the desperate singles scene. We all went out for pizza at Piece, this trendy little pizzeria/brewery in Wicker Park. I had planned to buy myself a whole pizza and then scrounge it for the rest of the week like the cheapo I am, but like the starving artist I am, Mallory and I inhaled the entire pizza at the restaurant. We also made friends with the rando guys sitting next to us... it was clearly one of those situations where the guys are hitting on you. But they offered us some of their pizza and talked about their lives, so we listened and generally humored them, at a distance. When the guy I was talking to went to the bathroom, his friend was like, "So my buddy! He's pretty cute, huh? Huh? Whaddya think? Huh?" I did what I always did in Uganda: I made up a boyfriend/husband situation and told him that I hoped their kindness was out of friendship as well as lust for me (in maybe not so many words). They seemed okay with it.

AND THEN. THE BEST THING EVER.

THEY GAVE ME ALL OF THEIR LEFTOVER PIZZA.

THIS was the best thing that could possibly happen to me for so many reasons.
a) It was barbecue chicken pizza.
b) It was free.
c) I am poor.
d) I had told them I "had a boyfriend" so I didn't have to feel guilty about mixed singles or owing them a date for giving me pizza.
e) FREE PIZZA
f) They weren't following me home so roofie pizza would have been pointless therefore I felt very safe.

SO THAT WAS GREAT. Anyway, I've got a big weekend planned. We all do. But I've got a few babysitting jobs, plus I'm running the gift shop for my theatre's show this weekend. WOOP. Oh yeah, and we're having a rager. I'm simultaneously terrified and excited. WOOP.

Keep in touch!

love, Lisa

sorry about any typos this may contain

Sasha and Bishop meet and greet, Why I need Lisa to find a job ASAP

Today is SASHA'S BIRTHDAY. If you've forgotten, Sasha is our roommate. Happy Birthday Sasha.

THIS IS SASHA.


THIS IS SASHA'S CAT BISHOP


Actually that's my friend Kevin's cat Walter, but they look exactly the same.

It's only been a week, so we don't know much about them so far. I've noticed that Bishop likes to chill in the bathtub and knock mason jars off my dresser at 5 in the morning trying to eat my spider plant, which is apparently LSD for cats. Sasha is more of a mystery. If she has equally weird hangout spots and drug habits, she's more discreet about it. But she cannot hide for long.

Hi Sasha.

In other news, I need Lisa to find a job ASAP so I can have my friend and roommate back. Never one to relax for more than 5 minutes in a row while unemployed, she's taken to interviewing for nanny positions in every second of free time she has. Hopefully this madness will end soon. Yesterday I thought she talked to me while we were at the coffee shop but it turned out she was just mumbling to herself about a cover letter she was writing. And without her around, I do things like try to convince the Logan Square library to give me a library card using Netflix as proof of address. And get paint in my hair while painting our living room because I don't notice that I'm leaning my head against the wall as I work. And shop for another house plant mostly to settle the debate about whether the shopkeeper likes boys or girls (boys), then immediately lose the houseplant. I cannot help but feel that none of these things would have happened had Lisa been there. Yesterday she went to a Starbucks Job Fair; without her around I read an entire Joan Didion book on the death of her husband, stared at the ceiling for a half hour debating whether or not the book made too frequent use of repetition, temporarily envisioned myself leading the life of a non-fiction writer, and ended up with a 500 word essay on why I don't understand death.

Someone please employ Lisa.

But good news: I have found a woodworking studio to barter with. I will be painting cabinets in exchange for classes and studio time. More on me hanging out with retired men later!

Sorry Cat

SPIDER PLANTS!

Today we found out that the cat has been eating what, for him, is the equivalent of LSD.


It explains a lot.

How Lisa Beat Brandy to the punch

In my first entry, I openly wondered how long it would take until a random homeless person hit on Brandy. Today, unless Brandy has not been open with me in the past, I succeeded in trumping that little card of hers.

Now, let me clarify: I am not above homeless people, nor do I pretend to be. I try my best not to be the person who looks the other way when they ask you questions as you walk by, and I actually have many homeless friends (I realize this makes me sound like the kind of tool who says "I love gay/black/Hispanic/short/fat/purple/alien people! I even have some of them as friends!"). But seriously. I think I do a fairly good job of not discriminating against the homeless population and even encouraging others to treat them with respect.

That being said.

Just because you're homeless, that does not mean I will let you use my computer. Or my cell phone. Or hold my purse. There are lines that must be drawn.

So today, I'm sitting in the local coffee shop circa 8:15am, planning an exciting day of applying to nannying jobs on sittercity and medical experiments on Craigslist. Some dude comes and sits next to me, but like any casually cool coffee shop patron, I continue about my business. I was actually reading this blog at this point, and the recent comment from Jon Ufer. It turns out that the man next to me was also reading this comment from Jon Ufer, because he opened conversation by saying, "So you're having a friend come to visit you?"

I did a polite laugh and closed the internet window. The man proceeded to then ask me if he could use my computer. I told him that I had a lot of work to do, ha, ha, ha (which was actually the truth, a departure from my typical lying-in-Chicago syndrome). So he decided we should talk. He started listing off all the medications he takes -- which I was fine with, because I've been looking for someone to commiserate with about the slow moving health care reform. Then he started talking about how he was a "level 5, stage 9, numbers numbers numbers." I assumed that this was some kind of Medicare classification. No. I was wrong. This actually turned out to be the level of criminal that he is. WHAT? I DON'T KNOW. I DON'T KNOW. He noted that it was a less dangerous classification than his best friend. At that point, I tried to get back to my work, so he asked to see my cell phone and complimented/reached for my purse. This was all very weird because it was not like a purse-snatching on a subway. No. It was in a coffee shop, at 8 in the morning, and I was surrounded by yuppies who were all blatantly eavesdropping and waiting to see how I was going to handle it.

In the end, I told him I was going to put my headphones in. I prefaced this move by saying, "I'm going to put my headphones in now!" Then, as I placed them in my ears, I announced, "My headphones are now in! I can't hear anything!" He kept talking, and I actually could hear him, but again, I said, "Ahh, yeah, I can't hear you, music! Music!"

As he walked away, I heard him mumble something about wanting to meet me for coffee again sometime.

And that was when I knew that I had been asked out by a homeless man before Brandy.

P.S. We finally got our hot water turned on yesterday! Thus ending my 4 day rampage against cleanliness.

DAY #1 IN CHICAGO: Oprah, the generosity of firemen, and how to properly deactivate your friend's security system

Lisa's obsession with reading the local paper came through once again to bring us this delightful surprise: Oprah needed dancers. I know I personally try to do everything Oprah tells me to (although not as much as this woman), so when Lisa showed me an ad from the Oprah show that asked if I liked the Black Eyed Peas and like to dance, I said yes, Oprah. Yes I like both of those things.

For those of you who don’t know, this ad ended up being for Oprah’s Season 24 Kickoff Episode. She shut down Michigan Avenue and had a live show with the Black Eyed Peas, James Taylor, Jennifer Hudson, and the Rascal Flatts. Oh and… Criss Angel. As a surprise, her producers hired a choreographer to organize a mass choreographed dance to the Black Eyed Peas “I Gotta Feelin’.” Eventually the entire audience would join in, with the top dancers getting front row access and (we surmised) heightened probability of meeting Oprah. This is what we were signing up to do.

So we went in for a brief “audition,” which mostly consisted of Lisa and I repeatedly failing to grasp about 30 seconds of choreography while the girl auditioning with us not only grasped the moves, but performed them in ballet slippers... because she was a member of the Jeoffrey ballet. We tried to make up for our blunders by smiling a lot and hive fiving employees on the way out. Lesson number one: spirit points are the most important points. Needless to say, were accepted into the last groups, 5 and 6. BUT WE WERE IN.

So on Labor Day 2009, Lisa and I arrived at the Windy City Field House at 8:30 am for rehearsal, fresh faced and deeply aware of how fitting and appropriate spending our first day together in Chicago rehearsing a choreographed dance for the Oprah show would be.

Four hours later, we were kind of over it. Or at least didn’t want to keep rehearsing the same dance until 6 pm. We already had the wristbands we needed for access, and we were feeling relatively confident Oprah wouldn’t make a surprise appearance at rehearsal after all. So we decided to skip out early. I told my instructor I had to leave; Lisa for some reason told hers she had to go work at Coldstone in Wicker Park at 3pm and beat traffic to be there on time or she would lose her job. Personally I think she had tasted the sweet thrill of deceit when lying to our landlord Joe about our roommate, and now she couldn’t get enough. Web of lies, girl. The city and all its dark temptations were already pulling at her previously impeccable moral character.

But rehearsing to participate in the largest mass dance ever was not enough excitement for Lisa, so upon arriving at our friend Sandy's apartment, she immediately locked her keys in the van. Hour five of City Life, Day #1: Obstacles.

Two young men playing cornhole nearby had prime seating to see how we would handle our first encounter with a hostile world. They watched us:
...Circle the van repeatedly
…Call the police (who declined to help)
…Change out of our dance clothes in the back of the van
...Circle the van several more times
...Sit on the curb to call friends for advice because we didn’t want to consult our parents within 5 hours of arriving in the city

Luckily, on the way to the locksmith Lisa’s friend Joe Kwaczala directed us to, we passed a firehouse. Repeatedly declaring that she “trusts firemen,” Lisa suggested that we turn to them for help, so we explained our situation to them, charming them with our innocent mispronunciation of the street name “Paulina,” and asked what we should do.

“Hold on,” one of them said, and went to the back. “Yeah, Frank will drive you over and help you out.” At this point I’m thinking Frank will take us in a small fire department car, or perhaps a fire department SUV. But no. Frank points to the big red firetruck and tells us to get in and he’ll drive us over. And Frank isn’t the only one taking us. All five firefighters get in.

So we all pile in, Lisa and I trying to act casual. Sure, it’s normal that this firemen is currently ensuring that my firetruck seatbelt is properly buckled in my firetruck seat. No, Lisa isn’t wondering what will happen if there is a fire and whether or not we will have to go to. Actually, yes, Lisa is wondering, and yes, she’s asking them. And so we rode, in relative silence. Personally I know I was trying to think of things to say but all my thoughts we obscured by the single sentence I AM IN A FIRETRUCK.

Our cornhole friends then saw:
...Lisa and I roll up in a firetruck
...Lisa and I getting helped out of a firetruckby five large firemen
...The firemen hovering around the car for 20 minutes while Lisa and I cheer and occasionally give high fives
...The firemen driving away honking and blaring the siren
...Lisa and I waving goodbye and promising them a cookie delivery soon.

As if that wasn’t enough excitement for Day #1, I then proceeded to set off Sandy’s alarm system when I tried to get us into her apartment. For those of you trying to break into your friend's apartment in the future, be forewarned, you must press and HOLD the deactivation button.

After that we napped. Because the next day we would be dancing on the Oprah Winfrey show.

All in all, I think this bodes well. Lisa is testing her wiles in a new forum known as unnecessary lying, trials and tribulations have lead only to free rides in firetrucks, and there are at least two boys who must already find us mysterious.

Adventure #1: Choosing a Roommate

Brandy and I moved in over the weekend, and we're already anticipating many adventures (for example, why don't either of us have screens, and why does our apartment not have any hot water? Whatevs.) But before we move on to the present, we must confront the past. Our Chicago adventures actually began far before our physical move to Chicago. Namely, our first adventure unraveled last Thursday and Friday: thus, I present, adventure number 1: Choosing a Roommate.

In order to secure the apartment, Brandy and I invented an elusive third roommate for our landlord. Her name was Jessica, and she was a journalism major from a sleepy Indiana time who went to Notre Dame with me. Basically, because we aren't very creative, this fake person was the actual person Jessica Farmwald. We had to have some sort of filler, and it made sense to exploit Jessica's life for my own housing market safety.

But immediately after leaving our new apartment, Brandy and I preceded to freak the frick out. Walking back to the subway stop, we were completely silent. Personally, my mind was reeling off a million worst-case scenarios of how the landlord would reveal our stories as vicious lies and I would be put in a high-security women's prison. Brandy, it turned out, was admiring the sky or the moon or something. But since she is such a good friend, we tried to alleviate my intense anxiety and made a list of 50 people that could possibly be our third roommate. This list included many people we'd randomly seen at the Franklin House bar in Valparaiso, John Siegel, a costume designer that a friend of mine had never met, and Jessica Farmwald herself.

In the end, we chose the most dangerous path. Yes. We turned to Craigslist. Desperate and terrified, we wanted instant gratification -- and no one on our list could give us that. Only Craigslist can fulfill those kind of sick housing desires. And then, like a beacon of light, one ad emerged. A 20-something, young, professional female graphic designer, seeking a place near the Blue Line in Wicker Park or Logan Square with like-minded, clean, creative girls, within our price range. YOINK. THAT. SHIT. Brandy immediately called... and that is how we CHOSE SASHA!!!!!!!!!

SASHA! Who is Sasha? SHE IS OUR NEW ROOMMATE. Sasha is from Washington DC via Drexel, and she has a real job, and she has a real cat. We are telling our landlord that she is one of Jessica's oldest friends. She listens to good music, but she also brought The OC: The Complete Second Season to the new apartment. Personally, I feel good about that balance. WE THINK THAT EVERYTHING MIGHT WORK OUT. And thank God. No. Seriously. Thank the Good Lord above.

Later one of us will tell you about Adventure 2: Ring the Alarms, another adventure that happened in the city before our move. Then, we can move into the present. Wish us luck!

We're Gonna Make It After All

On Monday, August 31, 2009, Lisa started her internship at Chicago Children's Theatre in Wicker Park. At the internship, which she immediately embraced with a deep love, Lisa contemplated the perils of the two hour commute needed for a timely arrival. She also contemplated her love for the city of Chicago and her desire to live out the gritty life she'd read about in biographies of Suze Rotolo and Marriane Faithfull (minus the heroin thing). At 1pm, she texted the following message to Brandy Parker:

"I'm moving to Chicago. With or without you, though I would prefer with. Let me know."

On Wednesday, September 2, 2009, Lisa and Brandy came to the city for a concert by underground local sensation Color Radio. By 8pm, they had found their apartment and decided that the keyboardist from Color Radio should be their neighbor. By 8pm the next night, they had signed a makeshift contract on scrap paper with a landlord claiming to be the cousin of Robin Tunney, star of "The Craft" and "Empire Records" for said apartment in Logan Square. Suddenly the world was spinning faster and faster!

Without jobs, without money, and without a third roommate to fill the room without a closet -- Brandy and Lisa decided to ignore the naysayers and embrace the dream of living in the city, ,and now, that future is here. Will they find jobs? Will they be able to make those elusive ends meet? Will their apartment have strange cockroach or smell problems that somehow explain the cheap rent? How often will they frequent the IHop and Popeye's chains that are one block away? Can they fit more than one single mattress into their miniscule rooms? How many times will Lisa accidentally stumble into Cabrine Green? How many times will Brandy's generous spirit be mistaken for love interest by creepy people riding the subway in the afternoon? How long can they survive on black beans and rice, and do they need a Brita filter?

Ultimately, will they fail? Will the city take them in? Or will the city spit them out?

Or... will they make it?

(INSPIRATION)

This blog vows to follow the adventures of Brandy and Lisa... AND THE CITY LIFE!