Things the Dog Has Chewed Up So Far:

my couch
my couch cushions
one scarf
one glove
two hats
a shoe
a slipper
appr. 15 pieces of cardboard
one lint roller
one X-Box controller
one Christmas tree branch
3 bowls of cat food
1 cat
1 piece of chocolate (wrapped)
3 ponytail holders
a gazillion socks
a pillowcase
a pillow
the bathmat
2 shirts
a plastic sword
my hair

Whee! Puppies are fun!


"Hey! That phone looks delicious."


"Here kitty kitty"

baby it's cold outside

You should know that it's 9 degrees in Chicago right now, with a wind chill of about minus six hundred. If you're in Chicago, of course you already know that. But if you're reading from, say, Thailand then SCREW YOU WITH YOUR TROPICAL TEMPERATURES AND NON-FROZEN EXTREMITIES, YOU BITCHES. And if you're in Canada, stop calling me a pussy.

The puppy is spending a week with me while my friends are out of town. He still piddles on the floor, and if the high temperature on Friday really is two degrees, he'll be piddling on the floor even more because I am not going anywhere near outside. Except maybe for a cigarette.

Eleven days. That's how long until I have to be at work again. Eleven wonderful, glorious Bob-free days. I'll try to check in here every now and then, but only if something is compelling enough to make me brave the Sanity Challenging Dial Up Connection From Pop Up Hell.

Til next time, kittens. Merry merry and all that.

Thou Doth Not Protest Enough

Some of my peeps have talked idly in bars about going to D.C. to protest the (ohgod) inauguration next month. It's seeming like a better and better plan every day. So if you krazy kids aren't off in China or Uzbekistan or whereever, let's go.

The Washington, DC protests will take place on the day of the inauguration, Thursday, January 20th. Bus transportation from Chicago has already been organized. Round trip bus tickets are available for $80 (buses leave at 5 pm, Wednesday from Columbus Drive & Monroe and return on Friday morning).

To get your ticket, please make checks payable to "8th Day Center for Justice," write "DC bus ticket" in the memo section, and mail to: 8th Day Center for Justice, 205 W. Monroe, Chicago, IL 60606-5013. For more information on bus transportation, call 773.878.0166 or 888.471.0874, or email CCAWR@aol.com.

Other Things to Protest

Jennifer Garner may be having Block Affleck's baby. Way to slum, lady.


Pretty!

Some clueless country singing chick has a hit song about supporting the troops by putting a sticker on her SUV. Her gas-swilling SUV. Brilliant.

My girl PJ Harvey says she'll never play a live show again. Bitch!

Polly Jean "Send His Love to Me"

Believe the Hype

Sideways is an excellent, excellent film.

The Secret Lives of Co-Workers

To look at the people I work with, you might think them a little ... how can I put this nicely? ... vanilla. Most are married or in long-term committed relationships. We don't really hang out together, save the occasional after-work cocktail, and we don't talk too much about things other than work. Until lately. Within the past few weeks, I've gotten to know several of my co-workers a lotbetter, and let me tell you something. These people are out of control. They make me look like a prissy Victorian nun by comparison, kids. Like a frigid Republican suburban housewife downing Zoloft and vodka. Like Mandy Moore.

It may be time to step up my game a notch.

Belle & Sebastion "Step Into My Office Baby"

Dear Santa,

Please bring me one of those new Signature iPods for Christmas. I like these two the best:





Thanks, my little chunky monkey. You're the best!

Your pal,

Tequila Red

Are those space pants?

In light of last night's debaucle, I'm wondering: can a cheesy pickup line actually be cute if it comes from a cute girl? Like what if I just walk up to this dude and say "Hey, could you hold something for me?" and when he says okay, I just slip my hand into his and stand there. Ha, that would be awesome. Also, never ever gonna happen. But what about one of these suckas?

Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?

Are you a parking ticket? 'Cause you got "fine" written all over you.

Do you believe in the hereafter? Well, then I guess you know what I'm here after.

You must be Jamaican, because Jamaican me crazy.

Did you have Campbell's soup today? Because you're lookin' mmm... mmm... goooooooood!

Your eyes are the same color as my Porsche.

Do you have any raisins? No? How about a date?

Do you know how much a polar bear weighs? Enough to break the ice. Hi, my name is....

What's a nice guy like you doing in a dirty mind like mine?

If you were a booger I'd pick you first.

Hey, does this rag smell like chloroform to you?

Nice try, fools

LONDON, England (AP) -- The 1970s and '80s rock band Queen is planning a tour next year with guitarist and vocalist Paul Rodgers replacing legendary frontman Freddie Mercury, who died of AIDS in 1991.

My senior year of high school, I had this boyfriend. Larry was his name, and he was the second of many Larrys I would inexplicably date over the years. But this Larry - Larry #2 - was special. Sure, he lived with his mom. And no, he wasn't all that bright. But he wasn't my boss (Larry #1) and he wasn't gay (Larry #3), so he gets the edge. Plus, the boy took me on what is still one of the best dates I've ever had. A moonlight picnic in the middle of this little meadow, wisps of mist twining through the pine trees around us, a ceiling of stars overhead. It was our first date, and we talked and laughed and kissed and slow danced, and Queen was the soundtrack to it all.

At the end of the summer I said goodbye to Larry #2 and left for the Army, and Freddie Mercury came with me. All the way to basic training, I blasted "Headlong" on my discman, over and over, scared to death of what the hell I'd done and what the hell might be waiting for me in South Carolina. On the first day, our Drill Sergeants ordered us to hand over any contraband, but I hid the CD player and Queen's Greatest Hits Volume One deep inside a shirt instead. Every night after lights out, I'd slip it down from the hiding place in the ceiling tiles and let the sound of Freddie Mercury's voice drown out whatever aches, pains, and humiliations I'd suffered during the day. (BTW - the Drill Sergeants called me "Cinderella," if that gives you any idea.)

Anyhoodle. As far as this new band goes? Maybe it will be good, maybe it will suck, but I'll tell you something: it ain't never gonna be Queen.

"Under Pressure"
"A Kind of Magic"
"Headlong"
"One Year of Love"

Oh forget it

Sat next to my Train Boyfriend on the way home tonight.

I put my book away.

He took off his headphones.

And then neither of us said a word.

We deserve to die alone.

You'll shoot your eye out!

Guess what's playing as the Midnight Movie at The Music Box this weekend? Only the best Christmas movie evs!







Aw, now I'm in the Christmas spirit. How about a happy little ditty that properly conveys the way I feel about the holidays?

The Mountain Goats "No Children"

Weekend in Review

Friday Night

Between the hours of 11 pm and 2 am, the Fabulous Foursome struggled to find a Wicker Park bar that didn't absolutely suck balls. (Danny's, I'm looking at you.) In the end we made our own fun, with a photo project interesting only to us, Jenna's Guided Tour of Asia via Digital Camera, a Jackson 5 singalong, and a swing through Mickey D's 24 hour drive-through. Approximately one (1) cute boy was spotted in the course of the evening. Boo.
Grade: C

Saturday Night

Spent some quality time with Fredbeck.

John Stirratt tricked us into watching his sister's band.

My most favoritest bartenders in all the world served it up at the Tiny.

Someone caught me in a compromising position on the living room sofa with a guy I used to date.

Two words: Sonic. Boom.

Grade: A+

* * * * * *
I honestly don't know what I'd do all day without Craigslist. Work?

Outcast Male Seeks Outcast Female - 35
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: anon-51700699@craigslist.org
Date: 2004-12-08, 10:33PM CST

I'm just looking for someone who is fun, caring, and accepting. Please only answer this ad if you're an outcast like me. Only then can you understand.


adopt me!
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: anon-51548827@craigslist.org
Date: 2004-12-07, 6:22PM CST

My dad died a long time ago and I don't get along with my mom. I'm in my late 50s and have no parents. Adopt me! Be my father or mother! I'll be a great son! Prefer rich parents who like Alfred Hitchcock, French cinema, science fiction, and are generally left wingers and not religious. This is a serious post. Support me emotionally, financially, and in many other ways. No damn racists or bigots please.

* * * * * *
Songs that'll warm you up like a big steaming bowl of Campbell's Tomato Soup:

Spoon "Advance Cassette"
Travis Morrison "Born in 72"
Los Shut Up "Trolley"
Wilco, "California Stars"
"Maps," Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Career in Toilet: Prequel to a Flush

Hey, you know that TV spot I just sold in? How excited I was to be doing real live actual TV commercials again? How that spot on my reel might just be my ticket out of this godfosaken dump? Yeah, well, that spot was just killed. Our stupid clients got themselves fired a couple of weeks ago, and their replacement ain't down with the "traditional media." Like "TV commercials." Presumably he also hates things like "higher sales" and "making money." Stupid twat waffle.

I'm so over this job/industry/life-sucking force of evil. Somebody make me write that bestselling novel already.

Wah.
Mates of State "Whiner's Bio"

Aging in Reverse

When I was 23 I was an old lady. Married, kids, stuck in suburbia, bored as hell, fat, schlumpy. Express and the Gap were high fashion in McHenry, you know. And anyway, when you're married who cares how you look?

Exhibit A:


Fredbeck just sent me this photo. It was taken during a company softball game 7 years ago. I'd just had Olivia, but who are we kidding - I carried that extra 40 pounds for another year or so. Also, note the Supercuts hairdon't and the Mom Jeans®.

God, is that really who I was? It must have been, but it seems so long ago it's hard to remember. I look at that picture and I wonder how I ever thought that could have been good enough for me. How I could have embraced this status quo, content to be the Average Suburban Housewife. But, you know, I guess I wasn't. You can't tell by looking at her, but the girl in this picture is starting to realize that this life is not what she ordered after all, that there are better things out there if she is willing to look for them. Inside, something is stirring. One day soon she will wake up and she will be ready. She'll make terrifying changes and bad decisions and leaps of blind faith.

And it'll be worth it.



EDITED TO ADD:

Wow, that was way too serious. Here's a picture of my bum.

Looky, looky, who played hooky.

Yesterday I pretended Dylan was sick so I could nap and Christmas shop and get myself out of a super annoying work project. Damn, why did he have to "recover" so fast? Jerk.

* * * * * *
Last week my work partner asked me to write a headline for her family holiday card, which is WOW so exciting! Especially since she's preggers and wanted to use a picture of the sonogram on the front. Especially especially since the sonogram is so abstract it literally had to be labelled with arrows pointing to "head" and "body." Naturally, it turned out to be the best thing I've written all month:



Ha. That still cracks my shit up.

* * * * * *
Hot hipster boy gets on the train this morning and plunks himself down in front of me. He's got the requisite shaggy hair/sideburns/stubble thing going on, plus a coat that looks distinctly thifted. Kari likee. Then I heard the song he was blasting in his headphones. Dido. "White Flag." And I died a little inside.

* * * * * *
Wilco dude John Stirratt has a side band called The Autumn Defense, and they're playing a show Saturday night at Le Hideout. Their last full album "Circles" got big critic love but I never even heard of it 'til I stumbled across their website. They have a light semi-seventies feel which I am declaring cool because it makes me happy, in a Brady-Bunchish sort of way.

"Silence"
"Tuesday Morning"
"Why I'm Like This"

Hype-machine The M's are also on the hot list that night. Get yerself there.

"I love this man, I love him, I love him."

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

Overall, a good weekend with the Short Ones. On Saturday, we went to visit our baby Wilbur, who is an adorable cross between Jaws and a leaky faucet.


Cute, but he still pees on the floor. The dog too.

Then we shopped for foo-foo Christmas ornaments and saw a play. How friggin' cultured of us.

* * * * *
Yesterday, the whole family gathered on Western to watch the Toys For Tots Ride go by our house. Thankfully, we weren't outside when that asshole ran over one of the bikers and killed him just down the street. From time to time I am still stunned at how shitty people are.

* * * * *
In less godawful news, I justthissecond RSVPed to my office Christmas party. Now, as you may or may not know, I do not have a boyfriend. Did you know that? I wasn't sure if you'd heard. Due to this lack of present Love Interest, I was forced to check the dreaded "no guest" box. Which wouldn't be so bad if any of the boys working here were both a) hot, and b) single. Which there aren't. Wow, this is going to be great party! Somebody pass the roofies!

Last year's holiday shindig wasn't that bad. I look like I had fun, don't I?







Yeah, I know what you're wondering. How will I ever top that ... top? And I think I've found the answer. This year I'm wearing this:


I might not have a date but at least I'll leave with some extra cash. Bow-chicka-bow-bow!

Open Letters

Dear Shell Woods:

Here's to kicking real booty on LSAT Sat. Get it done, girl!

Your future client,

Tequila Red

* * * * *

Dear Modest Mouse,

The Aragon? Really?

Saving my $36,

Tequila Red

* * * * *

Dear Women of Chicago:

For the love of god, stop wearing these already:

No, seriously. Just stop. STOP. The whole "UGGS" and "poncho" thing has already pushed me to the edge. Right now I'm a Burberry scarf away from knocking you in front of a bus.

Hats off,

Tequila Red

* * * * *

Dear Train Boyfriend:

That was pretty funny how you faked like you were walking over to talk to me last night but then you just stood next to me and listened to your headphones instead. Boy, you had me going there for a second! Tell you what. You're shy, I'm not that shy, so I may just go ahead and make the first move here. But if I slip you my number and you don't call it? You'll want to start looking for a new place to catch the train.

Losing Patience,

Tequila Red

* * * * *

Dear Kevin White:

Looks like your boyfriend Urban Meyer is headed to the University of Florida.

HA HA HA HA HA! You got punk'd! Sucka!

No love,

Tequila Red

* * * * *

Dear Radiohead,

Thanks for not breaking up yesterday. Also, thanks for OK Computer. And most of Kid A.

XOXO,

Tequila Red

So Jealous

Meet Tegan and Sara.



They are playing a show tonight at the Double Door. Unless God hates me and this show is already sold out, Wendi, Fredbeck and I will be in attendance. At least two of us will be singing along to every song. All three of us will probably leave nursing crushes.

Metromix did an interview with Tegan last week that was simultaneously pointless and hilarious:

Who'd win in a fight: the Olsen twins or the Quin twins?
We would. We're both feisty and we both have a lot of experience beating the crap out of each other.

Can you take your sister?
Sara is more of a cheap fighter because she tends to hit me with things, like the time she threw a trophy at me and it tore a chunk out of my leg. I've gotten her good a few times though. Like the time I pulled her jacket over her head and stood on her until she cried.

Hee.

Listen & love:

"When You Were Mine"
"You Wouldn't Like Me"
"I Hear Noises"
"Empty In Between"
"Not Tonight"
"Walking With A Ghost"
"Living Room"
"When I Get Up"
"I Bet It Stung"
This site is excellent and has tons of delicious T&S selections. Download to your hearts' content, babydolls.

My Train Boyfriend

So there's this boy. I see him in the evenings at the Mart every now and again. He is in fact the hottest man on the planet. The first time I caught him checking me out, I actually turned around to see who he was looking at, he's that hot. Like, the Johnny Depp level of hot. Out-of-my-league hot. I-might-barf-on-his-shoes hot. HOTT.

We make googly eyes at each other every time, but that's as far as it's gone. I keep telling myself to talk to him, just say something crazy - like, oh, I don't know, perhaps "hi"? - but his hottness overwhelms me. Take last night.

I walk by him on the platform. Eye contact. Good lord. Also: yowza. Eye contact. Eye contact. The train comes. We maneuver ourselves onto the same car but then comically veer off in opposite directions. Dammit, we're stoopid. Of course the only seats open are up against the side of the train. I can't even see him, just one of his shoes. This sucks.

One stop goes by, then another. Suddenly a lady gets up and I scramble for her seat, feeling foolish. But it offers an improved sightline of Train Boyfriend, so. I make a big pretense of flipping through a magazine and examining my fingernails before finally risking a look. Because I'm 12.

Aaaaand he's not there. Crap! But it's not his stop yet, so ...? Oh. OH. Hee. We're such morons. Morons perhaps meant for each other.

He switched seats too.

The ensuing eye contact is faint-ilicous. Butterflies in my stomach. I can't look away. Staring. Staring. Staring.

"Excuse me," says the lady next to me. Beeotch. I stand to let her out and then, without thinking, plop myself down in her abandoned seat. Well that's just great. Now there's a stupid metal bar right between us, directly at eye level. I hate the CTA and wish all train designers everywhere dead. On the bright side, it affords me a chance to study train Boyfriend's supremely kissable lips. Verrrry nice. And then it's his stop and a herd of clueless people are standing between us, ignoring my mental order to MOVE SOME ASS RIGHT NOW JERKS. Finally we catch eyes for a split second ... right before he disappears down the stairs.

Oh, Train Boyfriend. I will talk to you one day, I really, really will.

Just probably not today.