Filling the childhood sized hole in your heart.

Yesterday I spent the better part of the morning watching Oprah’s last few episodes and crying like I had an actual reason. At times I choose to hide my love and dedication for the show but for the most part I hold my head high and say, Yes, I’ve grown up watching Oprah and I love her. Like many in myself and my Mom’s generations, the Oprah show has sewn on the fabric of our being, affected and molded who we are. For better or worse, I am partially who I am because of her. Of course the bulk of the credit (or blame depending on your opinion of me) is awarded to my parents and family, and myself; but like stand-out teachers and coaches, Oprah stirred the pot of my youth adding her own ingredients to my complicated recipe. The show was one of many bonding mechanisms for me and my Mom. We watched every day at 4, after school. That was my break time. Snack time. Time for Oprah to tell me what book to read, which John Travolta movie I probably won’t be seeing, how to spot a child molester (you can’t, they look, smell, and sound like everyone else), what it’s like to be oppressed in any way, in any society, and how my bowel movements better be s-shaped. I often shared a large cushiony chair and ottoman with my Mom and we discussed what we were seeing. Until recently we still drank hot tea and watched DVRed episodes of Oprah and I cherish all those memories and subsequent conversations.

Even though at times I wear an F U on my forehead, with sharpened sarcasm that I can skewer whomever I deem deserving, I’m quite a softy at heart. My parents raised me to be compassionate and grateful for all I had. Oprah broadened that compassion by letting us all into not just the misfortunate in our country, but the truly destitute, endangered, and suffering of those in many others. The show was a catalyst to give more and complain less. What can ever be wrong with that?

It's easy to dislike someone so successful, so popular, often times so opinionated and I enjoy getting in on those bandwagons, but I grew up with this show. It ending affects me and many others. I'll move on of course, already have, but the end of an era inspired me to write and so I am.

Even though I’ve watched and learned most from her in the last decade or so, the loss of the Oprah show conjured up such nostalgia. My oldest best friend and I reached out to each other yesterday because we’ve nerdily been discussing the show since our pre-teens. We’ve passed along book, film, and television selections, let alone the complex array of information we gleaned in 20 years. In some bizarre way Oprah was America’s mother, and the world’s step-mother. She’s done more for women around the world, not to mention any human being in need of inspiration and strength, than any other human being in our recent history. It may be easy to parody and mock her “favorite things” shows or when she gives everyone a car, but it all comes from an enormously generous place, and her intention is only for good. I believe that wholeheartedly.

I found myself crying and resonating with so much of what she passed along on her final show Wednesday. I’ve learned from her many guests, just as she has. And I find myself getting in my own way and accepting real happiness or success that comes. I’ll never forget those words and will do my best to remind myself to just relax, suck it up and enjoy. The simple and beautiful message to merely follow your bliss, whatever that may be, big or small, is something I’m striving for and do not want to let go. The fact that her success only began in her 30’s is admirable and reminds me to be patient, continue to learn, work hard, and just enjoy the ride.

We could all die tomorrow, not in some rapture BS, but in some cruel and tragic way that always gives humans 30 seconds of perspective. If I did I could honestly say I’ve lived better because of Oprah. And like millions, I thank her for it. I’ll hopefully continue to channel her work ethic and her philanthropic spirit as I aim to pave my own success and mark on my little world.

I hope those of you reading have felt my appreciation and love for you and nothing less.

Script from her final show.

Bitch is the new black. And black is back.

I’m going to go against my previous regime and decided to bore you with a forceful recommendation of the funniest movie I’ve seen in many years, let alone this mediocre one (for movies, not for me, I’m having a great 2011!). This movie is widely acclaimed by critics, is continuing to kick ass at the box office, despite hunky opponents like Thor and whatever Will Ferrell decided to distribute this week, and has the most talented cast since Inception, without all the mind confusion. If you haven’t figured it out yet, please read something else. Duh, Bridesmaids! Jesus this movie is damn funny. I just saw it on Monday, after a delicious lunch (dim sum to be reviewed soon). I usually like to visit the cinema before noon, as the tickets are only $6, and I love saving 5 bucks and then putting it toward food later. But not on Monday. I knew Bridesmaids deserved my full $11.50 (that’s right suburbanites, the movies cost $11.50 when you live somewhere awesome! Bit of a drag but worth it.). So I ponied up my hard-earned dough, scored a bucket of popcorn from Garrets, not the crappy kind from the movie theatre, and settled in to give my abdominals and cheeks (facial, not gluteal) the work-out they’d been craving.

I’d be remiss if I did not mention the cavalcade of press surrounding this film and the gender heavy commentary. It’s so old news. It’s as if no one even remembers Gilda Radner or Lucille Ball. Or Ellen Degeneres and every other brilliant comic and sketch artist that has graced us with their talent since the mid 20th century. And that was when women weren’t even allowed to work, let alone would people ever admit they were funny. But they were, god dammit. And in similar ways to men, being physical and silly, and in new slinky feminine ways. They were a total comedic package, and the public begrudgingly laughed along.

Now its 2011. And much to the chagrin of some seriously backasswards folks, we have not only an African American (proven by a long form birth certificate) president, lady Secretary of State and other important, powerful rolls, but we’ve also been privy to a decade of uniquely funny, strong people, men and women. In real life most people are boring, semi-educated, broadly funny, and in general uninspiring. Both sexes. Not just women. Not just men. Everyone.

Tina Fey was the head-writer on SNL for years, now garnering tremendous success on her hilarious TV show (please stop watching How I Met Your Mother and watch something actually funny like 30 Rock), wrote the very funny Mean Girls, starred in one of my personal favorites from 2008, Baby Mama, and currently released her memoir Bossypants, which I enjoyed immensely. And during her reign at SNL she nourished and fostered the talents of many people, but really paved the way for Kristen Wiig, Maya Rudolf, Amy Pohler, and Rachel Dratch to not only shine, but, sorry to say it, kick the men’s asses. Big time.

Kristen, the star of Bridesmaids, has proven her comedic and acting chops not only as a variety of repeat characters on SNL, but also in supporting rolls in great films like Adventureland, Ghost Town, MacGruber, and the recent release Paul. You may also remember her as the mean-spirited but wickedly funny co-worker of Katherine Heigl’s in Knocked Up. She stood out to many in that role, then garnered additional attention at SNL and her career really started to bloom. She’s a genuine talent, and although she is leggy and attractive, she always serves comedy first, is not afraid to look or sound stupid, and her humorous confidence makes her even more attractive. Her, Tina and Amy’s success is proving a great trend in our society, so the talk of this movie being a “chick flick” or some sort of “comedy for women” is insulting and just plain stupid. Women are funny. Get over it.

I genuinely laugh at men and women's very apparent shortcomings. Some of my favorite comedians will blatantly make fun of women and how they’re inferior to men. I personally don’t enjoy the WNBA either and I’m fine with that. I don’t take it that seriously, otherwise I’d be offended 97% of the time. Comedians like Daniel Tosh are making these jokes in irony, not sincerity, and hopefully most are smart enough recognize that. But the general question of whether women are funny is a bit tired and I think the question has been answered. Many times over. Many years ago.

Off the soap box and on to the movie. My intention here was to express my feelings on this bullshit debate and rhetoric and to implore you to see this film. There’s nothing I can write about the movie, the plot, the characters, or any other detail that you can’t find in another review out there. The important thing to know is this movie is a comedy, for everyone, not just women. Yes the cast is mostly composed of women, like most comedies have been with men up to this point, but it’s not geared to any specific audience. Just one with a sense of humor. Me and my big hunk of man love went together and we both laughed til our cheeks (facial) hurt. Each of the bridesmaids could lead their own movie or show, they all contribute valuably both in character and in humor. Kristen is the star here, though, and she deserves to be. She remains likable despite some major flaws and breakdowns. And holy hell in a hand basket is she fricken funny.

Big ups to Jon Hamm, my current #1 crush after watching not only his brilliance in Mad Men, his sexy assholiness in the Town, and a secret dream I had, but more so for his foray into comedy. He’s delivered above average performances twice on SNL, had a uber funny re-occurring guest role on 30 Rock, and his performance here is uncanny and disturbingly funny. He plays an asshole we’ve all either dated, wanted to date, or watched a friend stupidly date. Not much else needs to be said, but the 19 year old in me wants him in this movie; it brings me back to a sad time when sexy was enough and substance went by the waste-side. I think most men know exactly what I mean. Ha. Ya burnt!

As Tina Fey so eloquently stated during her appearance on SNL’s Weekend Update back in early 2008, “Bitch is the new Black!” And black is back people, like it or not. Just surrender and enjoy it.

Also, movies like Something Borrowed and He's Just Not That Into You and other formulaic RomComs are awful. If those are chick flicks, fine. They're deplorable and should be shipped to GITMO to torture terrorists. Shouldn't need to be mentioned but that's another reason this movie is so great. It projects people as they are, raunchy, confused, funny, with sometimes challenging bowel movements. The following clip is one of the trailers you may have seen. The beauty of this is there are many funny moments but most are not in the film, so all you "i'm afraid all the funny parts are in the previews" people can rest easy. It's all funny.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nrRd2QSsGc4

I love men. I love women. Most are blah. Some are special. Some are funny. Watch some of them be funny in Bridesmaids. Enjoy.

Now that you're finished giving up something, eat this...C.B.A.!

C.B.A. Chicago Bagel Authority. Enough said. Oh. My. God. I know what you’re thinking, “bagels? really? boring.” Rest easy because it’s not simply a bagel place. Oh no, it’s so much more than a bagel place. Steamed bagel sandwiches. That’s right. Steamed, mmm, such a sexy word. Steam. I’m getting hungry again and I’m fairly certain I’ve yet to digest my last sandwich from this blessed place. We first got wind of this place by walking the wrong direction on Armitage attempting to meet friends for dinner at a nearby tapas restaurant. Seeing the sandwiches being prepared through the window was enough to stop us in our tracks and set the intention to visit the establishment soon. And so we did.

C.B.A., as it’s affectionately known to Chicago residents, is situated just steps west from the Armitage (New location on Belmont! Right near the EL station) Brown/Purple line stop, in the heart of Lincoln Park. Probably one of the most charming areas of the city, with beautiful Amsterdam-like architecture, tree-lined streets, and a plethora of boutiques and restaurants, to suit any taste. Just upon entering C.B.A. you’re greeted with a waft of delicious smells you can almost taste. Meat and cheese mainly, but other goodies as well. It has a very casual charm, exposed brick lining the interior, a few rectangular high tables toward the back and a couple cozy booths perched next to the windows, mostly inhabited by moms and toddlers. Avoid it weekday late mornings, later afternoon is best as that’s when the children and moms are napping. There are random photos, drawings, and subtle odes to the Ohio State University Buckeyes, as the owners are from Ohio. No need to worry Wolverine fans, it’s a subtle homage, almost lazy in it’s execution, which adds to it’s charm, so damn casual. The staff is very friendly, at any time of day, and are composed of mostly young, relaxed bagophiles. There’s some cute ladies for the men to enjoy and one AHdorable gentleman, who despite being with my husband I make a bee line for each visit. C.B.A. is no doubt ripe with delicious meat.

The menu is broken down by the type of meat, including 7-10 veggie options that hold their weight against any meaty selection. There’s also a breakfast menu and the option to simply pick a basic bagel, prepared in-house, including a wide variety of spreads and bagels with specific flavors, whatever you fancy. There are easily 50 sandwich choices, all come steamed, and they’re described in chicken scratch on 3 large chalk boards behind the employees. For the convenience of those with regular sight, or worse, they provide menus at the bar where the sandwich artists line up and you simply let them know you’re selection, pay the cashier, be sure to tip and go anxiously wait for what will be a life-changing sandwich.

Now, at this point I’ve had at least 10 of their sandwiches, including breakfast, veggie, and at least one from each meat column. None of them, zero, have been bad or even mediocre. All have made me make the “O” face. Today, for the first time, I ordered a sandwich I’d had in the past. It’s called the Messy Katy. It’s not even on the chalk board! It’s turkey, sliced ever so thin and piled generously with avocado, tomato, sprouts, cream cheese, honey mustard, and here’s the kicker, steamed on Bialy. What’s Bialy? Those familiar with bigger cities, New York in particular, will be well acquainted with baily and all its glory. The shortest way to describe it is a bagel hooked up with an english muffin and had nothing short than the bread equivalent of a Brangelina type child. There’s no hole, its not steamed and then baked, just baked. I think. Ah, well. It’s the perfect texture and flavor for a sandwich, slightly salty, soft enough, not too thick for the sandwich and it’s co-habitants. All sandwiches have adorably clever names like the DePaul Ruben, Hide the Salami, the Ritz and so on. Again, all are highly satisfying, cleverly designed, the flavors complimenting each other perfectly and the accompanying bagel flavor perfectly snuggling and rounding out each bite. Most importantly, they’re made with love. The employees seem sincerely jazzed about their little hole in the wall and love to share in their customer’s enthusiasm.

The good people of C.B.A. gave their labor of love a name befitting of their product. They are the authority on bagels here in Chicago. We’ve made it a weekly trip. They have free wifi for customers, a cooler of tasty beverages to wash down your even tastier grub, and a selection of high quality potato chips with accompanying flavors, and for real fatty’s like myself, uber fantastic rice krispie treats, smore cereal bars, and large chocolate chip cookies. You can consume the food pyramid in one sitting and I encourage you to do so. Prices range from 5-7 bucks a sandwich, well worth it. They have a punch card for frequent customers. I hit my free sandwich milestone today.

Everyone’s life could be steamier. This is a great place to start. Enjoy.

Look and listen, but mostly listen...

I love food, very much, bona-fide living to eat kind of person and not the other way around. But in order not to turn into a person that needs a crane to be exported out of their house I find ways to balance my life between mastication. Some of these things involve being sedentary but not most. Hear me out. Actually, listen. Below are 3 semi-rant suggestions on various forms of entertainment. I enjoy movies, TV, music and comedy immensely. As described below I often do not seek such things out as they somehow find me, perfect for a lazy masticator. I only plan to blog 2-3 times a week so I've included these "entertainment of the week" segments in one long blog. You can enjoy said things while walking, biking, training, busing, driving, as I often do. Except the film, give yourself a lazy Sunday and focus yourself for 90 minutes damn it! Read this at your leisure. Thanks, masticate, enjoy. Song of the week:

This is something I’m choosing to write about because I get into moods, or obsessions, I don’t know really but I’ll be into one particular song for years, more like days or weeks, but I’ll just listen and listen and dissect and analyze. I love music, but I don’t pursue it. My brother pursues it, finds it, good music lurking in the undergrowth. It just happens to me, someone wonderful will bring something by me and I’ll go, hey! I like that, that’s now mine and was my idea, you screw off, thanks for nothing.

Years ago, my man child lover friend also known as my husband (such a boring, antiquated word), Derek, puts on this song by a band that will soon become MY favorite band, the band I’VE been listening to for years before anyone else and before the radio stations and MTV finally got wind of it. It was a song called The Lengths, by the incredible two-man band, The Black Keys. Feels good to just say that, ahhh, or write it, type it. Shut up. I’ve since fallen in love with every single one of their records, every single song on every single album, no exaggeration. I push them onto my loved ones like I have some secret, juicy gossip they’ve just got to hear and I’ve just got to tell before anyone divulges it before me.

This particular song I have been obsessed with for years, not just days or weeks like the others. It’s a departure for them, a rare slow, somber, heart-wrenching semi-ballad sandwiched between the wicked riffs and drums and 3 minute wonders some of you may be familiar with. The song wreaks of longing, of resentment, torture, emotional demise, a light-hearted vengeance, or more likely, heavy-hearted revenge filled hatred disguised in this incredible melody and soul-crushing lyrics. Here’s just a few from the beginning:

'Tell me where you’re goin What is going wrong Felt you leavin Before you’d even gone

Hold me now, or never, ever, hold me again No more talk, can take me from this pain I’m in'

I’m chill-ridden and emoting just from typing that. Top it with the unbelievably beautiful music and you’ll never be the same.

So, as my first song of the week entry into this blog, I choose this. This, because I quite literally put my iPod on repeat and listened to it no less than 100 times on an international flight back to the states. This, because it makes me both love and hate my husband at the same time and I don’t know why! But I love it. Just listening to the first few seconds of the mind-bending guitar riff will send anyone with a soul into a meltdown. It crushes you, renders you completely shattered, broken and then renewed. I love these guys for many reasons and am very grateful and proud for their recent success. I will stand by them when people ultimately get sick of them because radio stations overplay their awesomeness. You’ll never hear this song overplayed, because it’s too obscure, before their break into the mainstream scene. And for that, you’ll never get sick of it or forget it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8tBPidveM4

Listen. Learn. Transform. You’re welcome.

Podcast of the week:

Like everything else except meetings and parties, I’m late to the trend. My Mom tried to convince me for a good two years to wear wedges. I refused, not sure why, just wasn’t into it. Then one day, out of nowhere, I wore a pair, most likely belonging to my mother, and I was hooked. My Mom just looked at me in disbelief like “really?seriously?” That clearly has nothing to do with this, it merely serves as an example that I’m late to things most people already are enjoying and pursuing, like podcasts. I am now quite obsessed with podcasts. It all started about 18 months ago when I got wind of the Ricky Gervais podcast. Ricky and his awesome co-writer, co-comic genius Stephen Merchant, pioneered the podcasting movement and have a record-breaking 300 million downloads as of late. I plan to delve into particular episodes, conversations or simply the mind of Karl Pilkington in general at some point, but for today I’m just going to pay them their respect with an honorable mention and then move on to the chosen podcast of the week. Drum roll please..... oh, no one’s reading this? Except my mom? Right.

Doug Loves Movies. DLM is hosted by none other than funny man Doug Benson. He calls himself the professional humoredian, which I quite like because I love wordplay! Almost as much as cadbury mini-eggs. I munch on them now as I explore my lexicon and cleverly devise some diction for your entertainment. DLM came across my lap like almost everything worth experiencing does, through someone else telling me about it. Again I don’t pursue things, like music, it just happens upon me and I soak it up and invariably pretend it was my own idea. So, MY favorite podcast as of recent stars the lovable Doug Benson, best known to me while watching VH1’s Best Week Ever, and always mistaken for I Love the 80’s, 70’s, 90’s, and all the sequels I followed incessantly during my college years. I’m still desperately waiting for those to release on DVD. My god that’d be a dream come true. But I digress.

Doug brings on a few guests, usually comedian friends of his, often who’ve worked together on some recent project, most likely another podcast as it’s an incestuous trend there in Hollywood. He’s had such guests as the cast of NBC’s Parks and Recreation, podcast favorites like Jimmy Pardo, Scott Aukerman, and Chris Hardwick. He’s even landed big names like Kevin Smith, Sarah Silverman, and John Lithgow. Needless to say they’re all entertaining, laughter is abound in this 60 minutes of amusement.

He spends the first half discussing movies he’s seen recently with his guests, often leading to non-related tangents, which induce the most laughs, and then always bringing it back on message to play the AhMazing Leonard Maltin game. Doug created this fun and easy game with the helpful tool of the Mr. Leonard Maltin (famed film critic and regular on Reelz Channel, see if you can find it) App. I won’t go into detail on how the game is played because that would be tedious and time-consuming; all I’ll say is it’s hilarious to listen to and ultimately informative at the end. It may be useless knowledge but it’s knowledge nonetheless. And that is knowledge I’m ripe with, serves me so well in this cruel world. Each guest plays for an audience member, most of which are fans and bring in creative (or not) name tags that each celebrity can choose from, and the winner then hoists a cavalcade of peculiar prizes at said audience member. Doug rounds out the 60 minutes in heaven by calling someone a shit head. The names being chosen by the audience member whose representative did not win the Leonard Maltin game. It’s random, but funny, really seals everything together.

Mainly I enjoy the podcast for very simple reasons. I love to laugh, first and foremost, and this hour is filled with it. I also love movies, so when they do occasionally talk about movies I can pretend I’m part of the discussion and 90% of the time I agree with Doug, except on Inception, that movie blew my mind! And most importantly, Doug genuinely seems like a nice guy. That might sound lame, but there are so many douchey, asshole, semi-funny people out there that are making boat loads of money and being rewarded for their assholiness. I’m fairly selective on who I invest time and energy in, and especially money, and although the podcast is free, DLM is well worth it. You can also buy DLM comedy albums on iTunes for 2 bucks or purchase other podcasts and albums with which Doug is a participant. This was about podcasts, and like a DLM episode, about half of this was relevant material.

I hope you came away with some useless knowledge.

www.douglovesmovies.com

Laugh. Eat. Laugh and eat. Enjoy.

Movie of the week:

Seems like Old Times

What? Is that a real film? Is it one of those on-demand, straight to DVD movies with Val Kilmer and 50 cent? No, it’s not, but more on that later, as I love Val Kilmer and do not relish being made fun of for still loving him despite his Chaz Bono like appearance these days and multiple straight to DVD films with the aforementioned rapper/actor. Already digressing, apologies.

Seems like Old Times is a smile inducing, 1978 comedy starring Chevy Chase, Goldie Hawn, and Charles Grodin, written by the incomparable Neil Simon. Hot off his year-long stint on the freshman season of Saturday Night Live, Chevy was cute as ever with that cavernous chin dimple and impeccable delivery. He plays Goldie Hawn’s ex-husband, Nick, a journalist living in a deserted area in the mountains of California. Goldie’s character, Glenda, is a defense attorney now married to Charles Grodin’s character, Ira, Assistant District Attorney, soon to be named District Attorney if all goes to plan.

Glenda is famous for defending the defenseless, then employing the unemployable herself in order to keep her clients in check. Her soft spot lead to her employing a driver, caterers and maids despite not necessarily affording it. She also has 6 dogs, 2 cats, and 5 goldfish, a fact charmingly thrown in her face by Aurora, her sassy hispanic house-keeper, burdened with the task of caring for all species of the house.

The fun really starts to happen when Nick is abducted, forced to rob a bank, then thrown out of a car for dead in Glenda and Ira’s very district. The chemistry between Chevy and Goldie is palpable, and the orchestra of lies floating between the three main characters as Chevy’s character Nick becomes a fugitive in need of defense would entertain the animals taking up their house, let alone the humans fortunate enough to watch this by choice. Charles and Goldie’s characters are at odds because while attempting to keep work and home separate, they’re consistently reminded they are on opposite sides of the courtroom as a defender and prosecutor, and then the added stress of an ex-husband making his way back into their lives and the potential ramifications, both to Ira’s career and to their relationship in general.

Not to be forgotten or discounted are the infectious performances by the supporting cast, including the previously mentioned Aurora, the driver and at times butler/servant Chester, the Native American brothers Glenda defends, the judge, the governor of California and Ira’s co-worker, the two idiots who devised the plan to abduct Nick and start this whole charade, and of course the animals. The sarcasm and banter within the cast makes this movie beyond watchable, the end bringing them all together in a very satisfying way.

I have my mom to thank for introducing this film to me at a young age, along with other classics from that era like Caddyshack, Arthur, The Goodbye Girl and Fletch. Seems like old Times, in particular, is so gentle and sweet. There is no filth or vulgarity, and that’s not something that bothers me, but this allows for enjoyment from all ages and let’s it rely on the clever writing and genius delivery by the very talented cast. I highly recommend cozying up with the family, or even by yourself, one lazy Sunday afternoon and spending 90 minutes you won’t regret watching Seems like old Times.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0081480/

Watch. Eat popcorn. And bunch-a-crunch. Cherry Coke. Enjoy.

A boost at any time of day: Pick-Me-Up Cafe

Pick-Me-Up Cafe We’d lived in Chicago a good 6 months before stumbling across this national treasure. Well, local treasure. We live on Addison, steps west of Wrigley, yes, wise decision for people who enjoy falling asleep at 11 and rising at 730, but I saw the big red sign and for a life-long baseball fan new to this wonderful city, the tractor beam sucked me right in. The life and energy the losers called the Cubs bring to this neighborhood is unmatched and at times it’s annoying, but mostly it’s just fun. On one of the annoying nights, the Saturday before St. Patty’s day, which fell on a fricken Thursday this year, so 5 days before the day, people are giving themselves permission to act like drunken idiots as early as 11 a.m. that day. Poor Ireland. I’ve been there. And yes they like their drink, but none of them acted like these American buffoons. What a beautiful, respectful way to pay homage to the Emerald Isle.

Anyhoo, back on message. You have the back-story. We deliberately walked around Addison and Clark, the ground zero of idiotic behavior and grouping, to find a place to eat on Broadway or Halsted, in a slightly more civilized, quiet drunk kind of area. We did that thing where you walk and walk and say “how about here?” Read the menu, hem and haw, then say “nah” and keep walking. So frustrating this custom, especially when you get rage hungry like I do. We stop in this awesome looking place in our shabby clothing, bulky coats, and overall shameful attire and attitude, all to be embarrassed when asked what time our reservation is for and ultimately made aware of not only the clientele but also the popularity of this establishment. Epic fail. Lesson learned.

Walking again. I decide we are going to the Chicago Diner, just a block west on Halsted, because it’s DElightful, its got a young hipster vibe, which I don’t have. As an old soul with little interest in style, I don’t belong anywhere but my friends and husband fit right in there and I at least have visible tattoos which will get me in the door. Oh and I experiment with vegetarianism, double rainbow. Naturally, 45 minute wait. Balls. The adorable, most-likely gay host tells us of a couple diners with a similar vibe, Pick Me Up being one of them. See how I finally bring it back to the task at hand? 30 second break to pat myself on back.............Ok. That’s better.

Soooo, we walk, again, this time back toward our neighborhood, to the very street we were avoiding in the first place, Clark street! Gah! Idiots. Pick Me Up is situated in this awesome flat-iron shaped building, nestled between an al’s italian beef (to be discussed soon) and some random store, probably a head shop. What am I a tour guide? Look it up! It’s got an cutesie large three dimensional coffee cup perched on top next to a sign with the restaurant’s very name. We walk in two separate doors that most mid-western folk could not squeeze into sideways and approach the host, wearing too cool for school scenester glasses who hands us our menus and tells us kindly to sit wherever we’d like. Yep, it’s that kind of place. The tables are all different, they have a diner look and vibe, plastic soft seats or booths, metal rimming edging the tables, but they take it up an artsy notch and make the tables strange shapes. Fuck the square and rectangles of yesteryear. No, we’re not even going round, we’re going full on what the fuck is this and how many people is this designed to sit? 5? It’s strangely awesome of course. You get cool points for being there, which helps me because I always feel parched and in need of those points.

We sit. In 10 minutes Winnie Cooper from the fricken Wonder Years!!! comes to wait on us. I swear! Derek says no, but I swear guys! She’s fricken A.DOR.ABLE. I love her, immediately. My angry hunger from the walk and rejection from previous eateries has surpassed and I’m in nostalgic heaven. Winnie Cooper looks the same, puppy dog brown eyes, long straight brown hair, bangs, sweet smile, but now she’s a regular badass because both of her arms are coated in tattoos, full on sleeves! Omg, I could not admire her more. I want you all to see her. Ok, anyway, I order a felafel pita. Derek orders their club sandwich. These sound like regular ole boring items but when you’re sitting at an irregular shaped table, with an uber-inked Winnie Cooper as your waitress you want a little normalcy. I enjoyed my wrap tremendously, particularly the generous helping of hummus inside said pita, as I’m a whore for hummus and I consume it on a daily basis, no matter what my gastrointestinal tract has to say about it. Or anyone else for that matter. Derek felt his club was the best thing since the sliced bread that surrounded the characters inside the sandwich and we left with a pep in our step and one of Pick me Up’s famous brownies. No they’re not some hippie dippie sweet one would find in Amsterdam. That’s the only thing that would have made it better. Just a regular ole brownie but it was tasty.

The bill was reasonable, the staff super cool, relaxed and friendly, and the combination of random shit on the walls and tables, mixed with the eclectic diner style menu made for a very pleasant experience. It’d be great with a group, lunch date with a friend, lunch date with a book, or a quick cup of soup, as I forgot to mention their soups are awesome! We’ve since been back multiple times and I may write about those experiences in a future blog when I’m struggling for material.

Enjoy. Eat. Live long and prosper. Thanks for reading.