Ali’s Awesomely Awkward Adventures: More Blue Line Fun!

Maybe it’s just me, but it tends to get weird when you bump into an acquaintance when riding public transit. Take, for instance, the morning a coworker walked on the same car as me. First I feel excited to see a familiar face—and a face that’s not familiar because I served you beer last night, cause that happens more than I’d care to talk about—but then quickly, I realize now we either have to make small talk for the next 15-20 minutes, or one of us risks being rude by not sitting down with the other person. She sat down next to me. Whew. I put my book away and feel confident that we have enough work gossip to get us through the morning commute.

Her phone rings. She answers. Okay, back to reading. I pull my book back out. She loses her connection. I put my book away. “So…” Her phone rings again. I take my book back out.

Just as I’ve discovered I should hold my book on my lap so I can stop this little game, she jumps up. “My stop is next! Bye, honey!” Umm. My stop is next, too. But to avoid the likelihood that I will fall into someone’s lap by the jerking of the train stopping and starting, I always wait until the last possible second to stand up and exit. Now my routine was shattered! Uggh. I get up and try not to fall down.

I chat with her a bit more until we reach the stop. “Ok, bye!” she says. Uhh, what? We don’t walk together now? Now I feel obliged to let her walk ahead of me. I feel increasingly like a social pariah. Luckily I had to transfer to the green line, so eventually I stopped feeling like I was following my coworker around Chicago.

I completely accept that in this situation, I made it awkward—and probably only in my head—but this morning, I faced some awkwardness that I know was not in my head, and not my fault. AT ALL.

So, on the days when I have to go straight from my internship to working at the bar, I park my car by work and walk to the California blue line stop so I don’t have to take public transit home late at night. Might seem a little silly, but last night a homeless guy was peeing right in front of the train entrance as I walked to my car, so I was grateful not to have to get in range (or better eyesight) of all that bizness.

Anyway. This morning, I’m stepping out of my car and see a guy I know walking down the street.

We say hi. We discover we’re both walking to the El, and we’re both going in the same direction. Going to the same stop, as a matter of fact. However, he’s walking incredibly fast and I’m wearing heels, and Lord knows I can barely walk in my bare feet, so this presents a problem. I’m thinking he’s in a hurry and doesn’t have time to chat, so I’m fully prepared to say bye and leave it at that. But he keeps talking (albeit over his shoulder practically, because I’m tripping all over myself trying to keep up), and we end up walking up the El platform together.

We talk for a minute while we’re waiting for the train, and he’s looking over my shoulder for the nonexistent train so frequently that I’m starting to get uncomfortable. I ask him a question. He starts pulling a book out of his bag and gives me a distracted answer. And then: “Well, I’m going to go stand down there. See ya.”

Umm, bye?

You might be thinking, “Oh Alison, this isn’t that weird…it was the morning, he just wanted to read his book and get to class.” Uh huh. Maybe.

But when I said “a guy I know” I also meant a guy I’m supposed to go out on a date with.

Tomorrow.

Guess who has an awkward text message coming his way!

Hamm Family Photos

Jay undertook the major project of scanning some old family photos and putting together a slideshow in memory of our grandparents--our grandpa passed away this February, our grandma 13 years ago as of tomorrow--and some of these photos are too badass not to show off.

Here, Grandpa milking a cow. To state the obvious. And here are two of Grandma Hamm:



Clearly, becoming a cat lady was inevitable. It's in the Hamm genes.

I need more live music in my life.

Every week, it seems like I think about, then don't actually go, to see some kick ass live music. Last week was Jenny Lewis. Two weeks ago, Camera Obscura. Etc. Etc. Of course, there's often some legitimate conflicts, like sold out shows, no money, waiting tables on a Saturday night...blah blah blah. I need more live music!

This week, I'm missing Anthony Hamilton. Sigh. These YouTube clips just aren't cutting it.

Major Oversight

Somehow, the NYT's obit of David Carradine completely overlooked his most important role. What the EFF--how could you possibly not mention this?




Justin! What a bastard.

You might already be familiar with this one from Swayze fest, but since the NYT so carelessly overlooked some of Carradine's finest work, I feel obliged to show it again:



Speaking of Swayze fest, I'm sorry for slacking. I know I've ruined your Sundays without it. On a serious note, I was sorry to hear about Carradine's passing. It sounds particularly difficult for his family considering the circumstances.

Magical Moments Waiting Tables

Last night was a magical one at Logan Bar and Grill. Simply magical. I am still astounded on a regular basis by the silly, silly things men will say to waitresses.

Here are some of the gems from last night:

Silly Customer: “You know, you’re kind of cute. But you look like a good girl—you know, the kind that would love to talk to my mom about baking. I bet you’re one of those good girls.”

Me: “Uh huh.”

Silly Customer: “So where does a good girl like you go to have fun?”

Me: “Mostly I just stay home, knitting, baking and reading the Bible, thinking about how much I’d like to meet your mom.”

This is the point where I pretend I am very busy and important and scurry away. May I just add that this conversation occurred shortly after this man whined to me that his Grey Goose Pear and cranberry cocktail (“with two limes, please, sweetheart”) was too weak.

A) Don’t call me sweetheart. B) Don’t drink that. Ever. C) Shut up and drink your damn cocktail.

Luckily, we ran out of his precious pear vodka after his second cocktail, and his friend had his fill of pear ciders, so they asked for their tab. Thus ensued the next fun exchange:

Silly Customer, who we'll now call GG Pear and Cran Fool: “I hope you put your number on our check so we can go out sometime.”

Me: “Yeah, but it’s for your mom.”

GG Pear and Cran Fool: “You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart. Can I ask you something?”

UGGH. NOW WHAT. I nod and pray that this guy will give me his effing money as quickly as possible.

“What’s your favorite pizza topping?”

Do I really need to go on? Apparently he “read” somewhere that this was a great pickup line. Then, to make my night even more exciting, he went outside to have a smoke, and told two other guys I was waiting on to ask me that question as well. They did. Then they asked me to describe myself in one sentence. UGGH. I don’t need a sentence, just two words:

“Not interested.”

Later on, a guy who'd been sitting at the bar came up to me and said, “Do you find me attractive?”

HA! Now that one is just funny. After I busted out laughing, he said, “I think you’re pretty attractive, but I guess I’d better tell you that I live with my girlfriend. I think we should start out by being honest.”

This is my life.

Introducing…the best bike in the whole world

You might be wondering: How many posts can Alison possibly talk about this EFFing bike? The answer: A LOT.





I’d like to introduce Patricia:


I can think of no better name for this beauty. She was my grandma’s, and my grandma’s name happens to be…Patricia! Now, my grandma goes by Pat, but that just won’t do for this bike. It’s Patricia. Remember that.

D and D (Dad and Debbie) delivered Patricia on Friday night, and of course my Dad shined her up for me beforehand. Check out how she gleams in the sunlight.

Saturday, after a lovely trip to the Chicago Botanic Gardens and to Goose Island for dinner and delicious beer, we got back to my apartment, and I think Debbie could tell I was antsy to take Patricia for a spin. (My dad was falling asleep into his beer at the time.)

The next thing I know, I am suddenly 12-years-old again. D and D walked around the block while I circled around them a few times. (I wasn’t ready to brave the traffic on Belmont without a helmet.)

The wind was in my hair. I was grinning like a maniac. I passed D and D and waved wildly. I almost ran into a car. My neighbors out on their porches looked increasingly confused at the sight of a grown woman on a bike riding around in circles on a Saturday evening. I kept grinning. Then I forgot how to brake.

The next day, we went to Target and picked out a helmet. Still looking for the suit of armor.

All in all, a great weekend!

And just a warning to all you possible bike thieves out there: Stay away from Patricia. We don't want this to happen. Yeah, it's another Pee Wee clip. Accept it.

"IT'S JUST ME! WITHOUT MY BIKE!"




"I bought this one hour before my bike was stolen! WHY? WHAT'S THE SIGNIFICANCE?!

I DON'T KNOW!"

The 'aww' factor

Last night I was talking to this couple who are getting married next month, and they were so happy and in love, talking about their wedding, that I actually said, “Awww.”

And meant it.

But Jesus, they were talking about being best friends, and you could tell it was actually true. They even looked a little teary eyed! It was so heartwarming that I actually found myself being genuinely interested in their wedding plans. I was so stunned by it all, I accidentally gulped down half of my Tecate in one drink.

Basically what I’m saying is that I’m not always the angel of doom. I think I’m growing.

But I still think diamond rings are bullshit.