We Will Call It A Win, But We Aren't Done Yet
Happy Monday friends of my internets, I am writing this from a new Chicago domicile to be posted while I am in an office somewhere where I will do my office type things, and then fall into a heap of exhaustion while the sun is still out, for while it has been a good five days, they have also been exhausting.
So let’s recap…
If you watch my Instagram stories, you saw that I had a pretty rad Fourth of July. My volunteering gig was cancelled because the weather was supposed to be sketchy, but joke’s on them because it wound up being a beautiful night and I had so much drama-free fun. Nobody does the holiday like ‘Eyes to the Skies’ and it was one of the things I missed the most about life here when I was in Atlanta. I rocked my fanny pack and Birkenstocks like the sex goddess I am, and I could not have been happier.
I got home late after the fireworks, and I had to be up at the asscrack of dawn to move the huskies and I to a new unit, and then get myself to the Chi-town day job, because it’s run by communists who don’t believe in a post festival recovery day. Get thee to work, peasant.
However, because NOTHING goes smoothly the first time for me, our move was delayed until Sunday, and it would be across town. If you heard shrieking in the Chicago area around 8am CDT, it was me because I am a spoiled brat and having my commute become a whole TWO miles longer is unacceptable. Then I smacked myself upside the head and told myself to shut up, because there is a king size bed no dog shall touch in my future; another two nights won’t even matter. Not to mention, I didn’t even think I’d be this far along in my settling in here. I am literally two months ahead of schedule. Shut up and go to work, whiney.
So I shut up and went to work. Twice. Fridays are a double day for me. Office then bar, then wedge myself between two snoring heifers at 1am.
Saturday is my date day with myself no matter where I’m at in the world. I think everyone should have a date day once a week. It doesn’t have to be expensive. I typically don’t spend more than $20. I love it because it allows me to have fun doing the things I love everyone in my life would rather saw their arms off in protest to avoid. This week it was seeing the quirky Beatles inspired comedy ‘Yesterday’ and then taking myself out for discount all you can eat mall sushi next to an abandoned KMart because I had a coupon, and their wine is 50% off.
Side note: I am a FIEND for lunch specials and happy hour deals. If you do your research, you can get a decent $9 meal at Morton’s Steakhouse if you eat in the bar off their happy hour menu. Sure, you have to eat dinner at like, 4:30pm, but that’s better for your metabolism anyway. This is why I love Date Day with myself, because I love to see movies and eat meals with the senior set.
ANYWAY, ‘Yesterday’ was lovely. The perfect lighthearted comedy to send you skipping out of the movie theater. I had a great time. I hate seeing movies with other people. I’m just weird like that. I want my popcorn super salty without anyone else’s hands in it. I don’t want to defend my stance on the movie afterwards, I just want to be in a dark room with my phone off being entertained for two hours.
After that, I traversed the empty KMart wasteland to local Sushi joint, Sakura, where all of the horrors of Naperville converged on this Saturday afternoon. First there was a screaming three year old with a PACIFIER in his mouth.
Ugh. Lazy ass parenting. If the kid has all of their teeth and can speak in complete sentences, NO FUCKING PACIFIERS YOU LAZY ASSHOLES. Bedtime? Sure. Whatever. In the middle of a sushi place? HELL NO.
And whilst this child was screaming at the top of his lungs, the entire family of dumbshit WASPS were huddled around him like, “Brayxlen, do you think you can come to the car with us? Please?”
Look, I don’t ever judge a parent with a kid having a meltdown until I see that garbage. I’ve been there. You football carry that demon out of the public place, get them in the car, and in an age appropriate way let them know you can snap and end them at any moment, so they better knock it off. Every child needs to be aware of the line, and to never push their parents there. Not, “Oh Jaxxlee, mommy wants you to be a good boy! Can you come out with me to the car?”
Fuck no, lady. We do not negotiate with terrorists. You rip that binky out of that kid’s mouth and walk away. He will follow you. Then you football that whirling dirvish of evil to the car, strap them in their seat, go nose to nose, and in a low voice say, “You are in so much trouble when you get home,” and you chuck that pacifier across the parking lot like Tom Brady in the Super Bowl, turn up the radio and let that little monster put two and two together.
Welcome to consequences, kid.
My parenting book comes out tomorrow, by the way.
I got an unexpected phone call full of good news as the situation with Phrexlen was being handled so I was distracted and didn’t see the actual outcome. I want to believe all of the Asians in that place were sick of it and went full tiger mom on his ass.
So that phone call was my Tom Brady pass down the field I didn’t think anything would happen to. It was one of those, ‘fuck it, send,’ scenarios that tend to happen in my life. I didn’t think in a million years anything would come of it, but there I was eating discount sushi next to an abandoned Kmart and all my dreams just started coming true.
Ok, that’s exaggerating, but it’s pretty awesome. I know I get preachy about certain things, but I really believe in taking every opportunity and seeing what happens. You never know who you’re going to meet or what else is going to come up for you along the way. I have gotten this far in 30 days, because while I don’t have to work all of these jobs, I see the value in doing all of the things now while I have nothing but time on my hands. I will get sick of it and dial the work back, but for now, money is power in my situation. I’ll sleep when I’m dead. For right now, I take everything that comes my way. It has never failed me. Next summer I look forward to doing nothing but drinking frozen sangria by the pool and farting around like I did last year.
So back at the sushi joint, I ended the call and then the white dudes had to ruin everything. In front of me where some college bros from the two major universities in the area, just being SO LOUD and BRRROOOOOO. I couldn’t stop watching them. They thought they were so intelligent, but they were deliriously stupid. Every time sushi was set on the table, they had to refer to the pictures on the menu to remember what they ordered.
This is my new sitcom, by the way. NaperBROS coming Tuesdays to NBC.
Then we had to have our requisite ig’nant white dude who simply can’t deal with people having accents, or not reading the menu carefully. The Bros were served that godawful salad you get at sushi joints, and MAGA walked, nay, MARCHED up to that table with his New Balance dad shoes and exclaimed, “Hey guys! Don’t eat that. They’re gonna charge you for it. We ordered it and she said it ain’t free!”
The only sound in the place was my head hitting the table and the pop of a chopstick going into my jugular. Why are mediocre white men, especially the middle aged ones, SO CONFIDENT IN THEIR STUPIDITY?
When I regained consciousness, the bros were all looking at each other trying to form thoughts, because to their credit, they have been here before and know the routine. Finally, Chad3 found his words and was like, “Bro it’s always free. Everything on the paper is always free.” The server, visibly nervous, came around and explained the same thing with an accent. The bros and I understood her English perfectly fine. Instead of apologizing for the misunderstanding, Donald J. Moron huffed and puffed about things needing to be more clear and heaved his sweaty shame carcass back to his seat.
“Man, fuck that guy,” Chad4 said.
I’m starting to like the bros. But the wine is legit $3 a glass so I just had more. Date day was exciting this week!
Sunday came around, and it was moving day. I went to my breakfast place of the last two weeks and had my country eggs benedict, that I refer to as, “Holy Medicine.” If I could just live a life of sausage gravy and wine, that would be my best life.
OG met me after going to ‘real church’ (loser) and helped me move everything across town. The dogs were HYSTERICAL. As we were waiting at the stoplight, I said, “Oh no, I don’t think either one of these dogs has ever been in an elevator.”
Because God has a sense of humor and loves to roast me, we are living on the top floor. In a highrise.
The dogs were fine going up. A little worried, but ok.
Both of them hit the ground on their bellies like, “HOLY HELL WHAT IS THIS SORCERY WE ARE GOING TO DIE.”
Then we dragged them off the elevator across the marble floor on their bellies. Let me remind you they wear service dog gear because my doctor says I need them, so the people in the lobby had a good show.
I just smiled as we dust mopped them out the door, “MY DOCTOR SAYS I NEED THEM.”
When it was time to get them back on the elevator, they were having NUNNA that noise. Again, the crowd got a show as we both planted a foot on their behinds and drop kicked them into the elevator. THEY ARE PROVIDING A SERVICE RIGHT NOW, OK? OG hasn’t seen this much excitement in half a decade.
I have a private bedroom now because we are no longer in a studio, and I banished those heathens to the couch. I slept 13 hours. It was glorious. I will panhandle before I ever sleep with them again.
So that’s the last five days in my world. I am doing a lot of back patting this morning, because this has not been an easy endeavor, and I freaking rocked it this month. I am really stinking proud of myself. It really is just knuckling down and believing that failure is not an option. There will be days you cry into your cheesecake, there will be days you smugly sip rose and feel like a conqueror. Today I feel like a conqueror, and I’m going to bask in it for a minute. I’m going to slay this week so I can chill with some dude I know in Middle City this weekend.
Have a good week, freaknasties!