I realized as I began writing that this is my fourth entry in a row about Leslie Hall, which made me feel kind of like a crazy person. But since I think in Illinois it takes five blog entries to qualify as stalking, I’m just going to go ahead with this one.

Besides, don’t we all just need a little bit more gold lamé in our lives? With the drama of Kevin’s body shot finally over, we were ready to dance the night away to the hip-hop beats of a bejeweled rapper from Iowa. It was every bit as wonderful as I had hoped. I leave you with this final photo tribute:

Here she is thanking her momma for making her gold pants.

And now Leslie extolls the virtues of the Bedazzler.

Next she tells us how to kill zombies. [Hint: shoot them in the brains.]

After all that, she still has time to pose with her fans. Here, Dop and Kevin pose in front of a dirty naked woman painting.

Prom King Ryan and his Gemtastic lady get all moody in black and white.

Can you feel the love tonight? I sure can.

Still haven’t had enough? Here are the rest on Flickr.

16 Comments; | Filed under: Leslie and the Lys

There are many stories I could share about Tuesday night. Stories that might involve mullets or mosh pits, PBR or Purell. And of course, there are the Leslie stories. All in due time, but this first tale really deserves its own post. With photo essay.

I had a long-overdue reunion on Tuesday night with Ryan and Kevin, my blogger pals I met at the last Leslie and the Lys concert. This time, I brought Natasha along and we were also joined by Kevin’s BF, Dop.

Leslie’s show didn’t start until midnight, so we passed the time laughing and drinking $2 Pabst Blue Ribbons and watered-down scotches. At one point, just as I was sharing a recent horrific experience with unintentionally (honest!) finding porn on the Internet, a woman wearing a baseball cap and a veil walked up to Dop and Kevin and asked them if they were wearing boxers.

Dop gave the woman a puzzled look and shook his head no. Kevin, whose honesty made me suspect that he was a former Boy Scout, said, “Well, I have boxer-briefs on.”

Her eyes lit up as she said, “Those’ll do. Would you mind parting with them?”

Kevin nearly inhaled his sip of beer and laughed out a polite, yet firm, “No!”

As though it were necessary, given the veil and white baseball cap with the word “BRIDE” scrawled across the top in glitter gel, the woman explained somewhat apologetically that she was participating in a scavenger hunt for her bachelorette party. When Ryan turned her down flatly as well, just before walking away, she turned to Nat and me and asked, “I don’t suppose either of you is wearing boxers?”

This was yet another time when not wearing underwear worked to my advantage. (kidding. so kidding. about it working to my advantage, I mean.)
I think the woman skulked off before we could even bother to answer. The five of us laughed this off and went back to admiring the magnificent mullet of one of the bartenders. About a half hour passed when I noticed a white cap bouncing our way again.

Ever the persistent bachelorette, this time she walked right up to Kevin and asked, “Okay. Would you let me do a body shot off of you?”

Even in the darkly lit bar, I could see his face turning red, as he laughed somewhat uncomfortably. The woman looked over at Natasha and me and said, “Would you mind if I did a body shot off him?”

I looked over at Dop, who was trying to contain his laughter, and said, “Absolutely not. Go right ahead.”

I felt delirious with power for that one moment. It was like being the Godfather, or some sort of gang lord. That’s right, this is my turf, and I decide who gets to do body shots. You got that straight? I decide! And today, I say you can do a shot off of Kevin.

It again became clear to me that Kevin is just an all-around good guy because I really think he was being honest when, as she led him by the hand toward the bar, he looked back at us and said, “Well, okay but, how, how does this even work? I mean… how do you…? What do I…?”

Ryan, Nat, Dop and I stood around as helpless, but hysterically laughing, witnesses to the train wreck that is the average bachelorette party. Natasha grabbed my arm, hard, and said, “You remember our promise, don’t you, Jenny? No veiled baseball hats or penis necklaces, no scavenger hunts or suck-for-a-buck t-shirts. I mean it!”

And then we cut our thumbs open with my grandpa’s pocket knife and swore on blood that we would never throw a trashy “Naughty But Nice” bachelorette party for each other.

In order to best describe what happened next, I am going to do something that has never been done on a blog before. EVER! Because I am a Pisces, and we are empaths, I was able to understand every emotion Kevin experienced during the entire ordeal. Because I am a voyeur, and never leave home without my camera, I was also able to photo document every moment.

For your viewing pleasure, I have created the blogosphere’s first flip book. You will simply need to print out each of the pictures below on high quality glossy paper, bind them together, and then flip through to create an animated reenactment of the infamous body shot caper. The captions below each photo represent the exact thoughts going through Kevin’s mind during what were, I’m quite certain, the longest three minutes of his life.

I’m sorry we all threw you to the wolves, Kevin, but it was for the good of the whole. You earned your purple heart that night, along with my undying respect.

“Oh god. She’s coming back. Do you think she knows that I really was wearing boxers all along?”

“A body shot? I think I saw them do that on Real World Seattle one time.”

“Crap. She just bought the shot. She’s totally not bluffing.”

“Okay… so, I just tilt my head I guess?”

“Jenny, if you can read my mind right now, for the love of god please put down the frickin’ camera and make this stop. I’m only smiling to hide the pain.”

“Jesus loves me this I know, for the bible tells me so. Little ones to him belong…”

“Oh man… the salt is burning. And now she’s licking me. Happy place, happy place. Remember that cabin in northern Wisconsin we used to go to? Gosh, we sure caught a lot of walleye that one year. SHE’S STILL LICKING ME!”

“I wonder if lime kills bacteria?”

“Okay, so um… I’ll call you?”

16 Comments; | Filed under: Leslie and the Lys

…ever looked into the face of sheer joy?

No?

Then BEHOLD!

[I know – some may say that sheer joy looks very similar to intense pain. That’s just the way my face goes. Trust me – it’s joy.]

21 Comments; | Filed under: Leslie and the Lys

Where you at Tuesday night? ‘Cause I know where I’m at. Funky Buddha, babies. Watching the Goddess of Gold Pants herself, Leslie Hall.

If you know what’s good for you, you’ll be there too.

Shit. (That’s for you, Viv.)

9 Comments; | Filed under: Leslie and the Lys

Despite the innate planner in me, spontaneous evenings out are often my favorites, with no schedules to meet or expectations to live up to. On Saturday, I was just about to leave to go grocery shopping and pick up some dinner when I heard my cell phone buzzing. A missed call.

“Hey, it’s Nat. Farnsworth and I are going to dinner at Olé Olé, and then out for drinks. We’ll be there around 8:30. Give me a call on my cell if you want to join us. Oh, and we have a present for you if you come… bye!”

I knew that “out for drinks” would mean going to our favorite neighborhood cocktail bar, where Natasha, Farnsworth and I were working hard to become regulars. Nat’s boyfriend recently crossed into uncharted territory there, by learning that there was a secret list of off-the-menu drinks that had to be asked for by name. One of these drinks was the color of Windex, tasted like tropical paradise, and had a single red cherry resting perfectly at the bottom of the glass.

It was almost too beautiful to drink.

The prospect of that, coupled with Nat’s sing-songy promise of an unexpected gift made it clear that groceries could wait, so I quickly got ready and met them at the restaurant. Before I could even open my menu, Farnsworth told me he wanted to give me my gift – a rare find from a recent yard sale that he couldn’t pass up:

I may have gasped with delight.

“OH MY GOD! Where did you get this!?”

Farnsworth smiled, pleased with his purchase, and said modestly, “You know, I picked it up somewhere.”

“Ohmigod! Thank you so much! This is so perfect! A book of breakdance poetry?! It’s exactly what Nat and I need to inspire us for our breakdancing class. Hey – is Dee-Dee signing up for it, too?”

Nat shrugged, “I don’t know. I think she’s still busy coming up with our hip-hop names.”
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with Dee-Dee being in charge of that. Wasn’t she the one who kept suggesting pig Latin versions of our astrological signs? I mean, she wanted me to be Isces-Pee. Isces-Pee?! Are you kidding me?! Yeah, because a breakdance name with the word “pee” in it is really cool. That’s really gonna inspire fear among the other breakdance crews.”

“Well, it’s not much better than the Irgo-Vee that she wanted to call me!”

“I thought you were gonna be Xanadu?”

“Nah, I think I’m over that.”

“Actually, I was thinking that maybe I want to be called The Squirrel, or just Squirrel.”
“Like walking the squirrel?”

“Exactly. ‘Cause I’m CRAZY! You never know what Jenny’s gonna do on the dance floor – she’s all squirrelly and shit!”

Farnsworth chimed in, “Squirrelly-J!”

I thought about it for a minute and started to nod, “Squirrelly-J. The Squirrel, aka Squirrelly-J. It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Watch out for Squirrelly-J – she’s just trying to get a nut.”
Nat filled our glasses from the pitcher of margaritas that had just arrived. “So what’s your signature move, Squirrelly-J?”

“Good question. Maybe I could like, chatter at people. Like squirrels do? You know, like, ak-ak-ak-ak-ak-ak?”

“That’s not really a move, though, is it?”

“No, but it might scare some people off the dance floor.”

“Or maybe all your moves could be in a straight line, like a squirrel walking along a telephone wire?” suggested Farnsworth.

“And then I just throw walnuts at their heads. ‘Cause I’m Squirrelly-J, ak-ak-ak-ak-ak!”

“Personally, I think we need to start the class first and let our natural style dictate our names.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. But we at least have to start thinking about what we’re going to wear. I was thinking of getting a new pair of Converse Chucks for class.”

“No, those make my feet look weird. I might get a pair of black Vans.”

“Look, if you want to do this right, you know what you both need to get, don’t you?”

Nat and I shook our heads no.

Farnsworth paused for effect, then said, “Old school Adidas.”

“Ooooh! You’re so right! And it just so happens that I have a pair of old school Adidas. Sweet.”

With footwear decisions made, and a potential hip-hop nickname in the works, I was now able to enjoy my dinner, but not before an impromptu poetry reading from my new favorite book:

Electric Boogie

Now I do the moon walk,
Watch my feet,
Heel, toe, backward glide,
Right to the beat.
I’m walking in space, man.
I am the ace, man.
– Lillian Morrison

Nat and Farnsworth snapped their approval. We finished our margaritas, paid the bill, and headed off to continue our evening of secret drinks and B-Boy poetry.

[Tune in later this week for the fascinating conclusion – Drinks: Desperately Seeking Susan]

13 Comments; | Filed under: Breakdance

As a friend, you learn that there are boundaries you must not cross. Honesty is essential in every friendship, but that must be tempered with kindness and common sense. There are rules we all know and understand: you never speak ill of their siblings, you must not reveal that you always hated their exes, you concur with them when they tell the officer the light was still yellow.
These are universally understood. But no one ever sent me this addendum to the agreement: thou shalt not criticize thy friend’s corporate vending machines.
Natasha: “Oh, I have to stop in my office before we go. I need to pick up my laptop.”
Jenny: “That’s cool.”
[The two arrive at Natasha’s office. Jenny waits in the hallway while Nat gathers her things.]
Jenny: “Hey, what’s up with your generic vending machine food?”
Natasha: “Huh?”
Jenny: “Crunchitos? Honey Buns? Big Texas Cinnamon Rolls? What kind of broke ass company do you work for?”
Natasha: “Shut up! What are you talking about? We have normal food in there!”
Jenny: “Oh, you mean like the Austin Vanilla Cremes? Or the Choco Layer Cookies? What the hell is a choco layer?”
Natasha: “Shut up! Well then… what do you have in your vending machines?”
Jenny: “Uh, Nutter Butters? Oreos? Hostess Twinkies? Perhaps you’ve heard of them?”
Natasha [voice getting softer]: “Shut up. The Austin Vanilla Creme cookies are fine. People have too heard of them.”
Jenny: “What?”
Natasha [trailing off]: “I mean, it’s not like I even eat anything out of there…”
Jenny: “Huh? What’d you say?”
Natasha: “Nothing. Let’s go.”
[Twenty minutes later, in Natasha’s car]
Jenny: “You totally work for Hydrox Corp.”
Natasha: “SHUT UP!”

21 Comments; | Filed under: General

Just a heads-up, if you are a blogger and we ever meet in Chicago, you can be assured of a few things:

• We will visit The Bean
• There will be tequila
• I will not drink any

Okay, so this time I really did drink some tequila, just not in its raw, unrefined form. In fact, no one did. We all sipped our Tequila Cosmos and Tequila Mojitos like proper ladies and gentlemen. This was a much more civilized bunch than met at TequilaCon NYC, what with the nonstop pounding of shots and relentless ridiculing of the non-shot drinkers. I WILL NOT BOW TO PEER PRESSURE! EXCEPT IN PORTLAND FOR TEQUILACON ‘07!
But enough about TequilaCons of yore and yon. This past weekend’s event was informally dubbed “Davecago” because it all began when Dave2 told Kevin and me that he was coming to Chicago on business. The boys spread the word, and suddenly there were a dozen people eating pizza and drinking pitchers of beer in Wicker Park. Bloggers and non-bloggers alike, living together in harmony.
I love hanging out with people from out of town because it forces me to approach Chicago like a tourist, and see and do new things. Like eating mashed potatoes on pizza, for example. This is not a topping I would have ever ordered, nor will I ever order it again due to the bizarre texture that was a bit like damp cornmeal, but I believe I am a better person for the experience.
This was kind of like a mystery blogger meetup, because most of the folks I met were completely new to me. But as the beer and wine flowed, we quickly fell into true bloggeek mode, with in-depth discussions on RSS feeds, blog design, how we feel about comments, and how a seemingly innocent entry put Dave on the most wanted list of every clown in the contiguous 48 states.
Our bellies loaded up with carbs, we made our way to Salud – the site of TequilaCon the First, the event that began my love affair with strangers I met on the Internet. For some reason I didn’t get the memo that we were all supposed to drink Mango Tequila Mojitos, so was clearly the odd man out with my Tequila Cosmo.

Except for RW, who was truly the outlander with his Mexican Zinfandel, but he’s a classy guy and doesn’t bow to peer pressure either.
Now, our numbers slightly smaller, we cozied up around the perfect table and discussed favorite authors, and current reads, and Mac vs. PC, and our conflicted feelings about MySpace. After a delightful evening with some genuinely interesting people, we said our farewells and boarded respective trains, planes, and automobiles.

[me, Dave, Kelly, Ariana, RW, Lynne – photo by Gary]
And that was Saturday.
On Sunday (which was, it should be noted, the second of two of the most spectacularly beautiful days we ever see in Chicago – 75˚ and cloudless, slight breeze), I met up again with Dave and Gary to see a collection of exhibits at the Museum of Contemporary Art.
After spending a long time reading through the comics/graphic novels in the Chris Ware exhibit, and admiring the Warhol retrospective (Oh look – it’s Liz Taylor! And there she is again, and again, and again…) we moved on to another featured artist – some German photographer.
Before walking in, we were met with two large signs that said, “Warning: contains some adult content. You may want to view this exhibit first before bringing young children.” In retrospect, had I written the signs, they would have said something more like, “Warning: You may want to avoid this exhibit altogether because it will dissolve the right hemisphere of your brain with its suckitude. The highlight is a photograph of a man peeing on a chair.”
Art makes me hungry, as does pretty much everything else in life, including eating, so the three of us headed to the South Loop to grab some food near our next destination – the Printer’s Row Book Fair. This would prove a mistake, since every restaurant in a 10-block radius had lines a mile long. We eventually settled on the shortest line: peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and squirty tubes of blueberry yogurt off the kid’s menu at Panera. I know how to show visitors the finer side of Chicago cuisine, to be sure.
We all miraculously made it through the open-air book festival relatively unscathed, although I did have my eye on a 1950’s hygiene guide for boys.

It was clear that no matter how hard I tried, neither Gary nor Dave would get in line to pose with Curious George, so I led us onward to one of my favorite destinations – Millennium Park.
The park was absolutely packed with children playing in the Crown Fountain and adults snapping shots of Cloud Gate (aka The Bean). No matter how many times I go there, I just can’t resist a photo opportunity.




Finally, I heard my four favorite words – “Let’s get a drink!” – so we ended our long day with beers and vodka lemonades and chips and salsa. It was a wonderful weekend with a great group of people, and contrary to what Kelly’s husband predicted, no one was murdered by psycho Internet people. So thanks to all who joined, and I look forward to adding you all to my reading lists!
Ariana
Dave
Gary
Kelly
Kevin (and Katie, Brian, and Jen)
RW (and Lynne)
Steve
Susan

21 Comments; | Filed under: General

My life-energy has been sapped by long walks in the city, great art, and afternoon beers in the sun, so my full recap will have to wait a day.
However, let me just mention that I spent the weekend with another amazing group of bloggers, and finally, finally, we were able to put aside the petty differences that have divided bloggers for centuries. And this enlightenment was perfectly illustrated by a curious little primate who touched our lives, if ever so briefly. I mean, if the monkeys and rats can learn to love one another, can’t we all?
Can’t we all?

Oh, since I’m all about sharing my addictions (and to distract you from the utter lack of content in this entry), allow me to pass along another recent colossal time-waster: make your own Jackson Pollock paintings. (via boingboing)

10 Comments; | Filed under: General

Hey –
Did you ever have a really great idea to go home and write a play where all the dialogue and characters were based on spam emails you’ve received, but then your friends called to invite you out to dinner at your favorite restaurant so you met up with them and drank wine and ate cheese?
And let’s say that one of the reasons this is your favorite restaurant is because they make the most unbelievably divine pasta Bolognese, but when you got to the restaurant you saw that pasta Bolognese was no longer featured on the specials board and you would cry the tears of a thousand sailors. I’m sure that the waiter would recommend some other amazing dishes like the soft shell crab special and chicken thigh stuffed with couscous and three different desserts, and you would eat them all because they were quite delicious, but still, you would lament the fact that they were not pasta Bolognese.
Maybe you would come home with every intention of writing that play, but still suffering from the disappointment of no Bolognese, and fatigued by the bottle of Spanish red you drank at your favorite restaurant and the glass of scotch you sipped while defragging your hard drive, you would find yourself distracted and unfocused. After a few failed attempts at writing something clever and interesting, maybe you would play Bejeweled for a while, eat the remaining three Oreos sitting on your kitchen counter in a plastic baggie to protect them from humidity, and then ultimately sell out by digging through your photo archives and posting a picture of your nephew holding a tiny snake.
Nah, I’m sure you would never do that.

Read more »

20 Comments; | Filed under: General

Saw it in the window, and just had to have it.


It would seem that the only thing that can pull me out of this Post-TDW (three-day weekend) funk is a dress made entirely out of Marshmallow Peeps. But now the dilemma: what shoes do I wear?

22 Comments; | Filed under: General