Who Knew?

I've been looking for the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers Collection Volume 2 set of DVDs, for Matthew.

Shopzilla.com suggests that if I'm interested in Astaire and Rogers I might also be interested in...

Let Me Die a Woman (DVD)

Uncut, Transgendered Edition
Description: This hilarious and horrifying documentary on transsexuals includes actual surgical footage of the operations and close-up looks at the results, inside and out. Not for the faint of heart.

The Sounds of the Holiday Season

Friday 17 November, within a block of Marsh.... Macy's State Street:

Christmas carols playing in the stores.

Cashier to customer: "Happy holidays!"

Pedestrian to pedestrian: "Have a happy Thanksgiving."

Oddly dressed woman to person(s) unknown: "I'm gonna fuck shit up your fucking ass!"

Word from the Next Cube

"I was there when the placenta started coming!"

Awkward Conversation

At a party one fine Saturday night, a young man stepped out of the bathroom, and seeing an empty spot next to me, took it. A handsome young man, his tight white t-shirt showing off his muscular torso to best advantage.

This young man decided, for some reason, that the ideal conversational opener would be:

"I just had an orgasm! [He nodded his head towards the bathroom.] I haven't had one in like two months since my doctor put me on anti-depressants."

Let's see now, what have you told me that would be among the things I don't want to learn about someone within the first ten seconds of meeting them:

-You're clinically depressed.
-You're on antidepressants.
-You generally have no sex drive.
-You just had an orgasm.

I wasn't even sure what to say.

Thank you for coming sprang to mind, of course, but I didn't say it.

Did He Leave His Wife At Home?

Customer came to the theater window to buy a ticket.

Customer did not want a seat in the poncho section, where patrons wear plastic ponchos to protect their clothing.

Why?

"I am on a business trip, and I cannot wash my clothes."

Imagine This

That Maya Angelou was recently reading "Mary Poppins" by P.L. Travers.

That Maya Angelou decided she simply must dress like that dapper British nanny. Exactly like her.

Then you will know what I saw at the CVS Pharmacy near Union Station recently, right down to the umbrella.

This Guy Really Had A Screw Loose

Walgreen's, near Sears Tower. 9 November, late in the afternoon.

Man goes up to Maxine, one of the cashiers.

(Maxine has no eyebrows, and so pencils them in each morning. And she always looks like someone startled her as she applied her left eyebrow, for it starts near her nose, quite normally, but then wanders off upwards into her hairline.)

Man purchases six-piece tool kit. Maxine offers a bag. Man declines, exclaiming "I only need this!"

He rips the clamshell packaging apart and extracts the screwdriver, and leaves.

I'm Not From Around Here, But I Can Puzzle It Out

Caller: "We're at Michigan and Wabash, where's the theater?"

Me: "You're about five miles south of the theater."

Caller: "So..... we need to go.... um..................................five miles..................................north?"

Truth in Advertising

Union Station, Friday, 3 November. Panhandler asks for money:

"Five bucks, wanna fuck a whore."

The Food's Not That Bad

Outside the Subway restaurant, on Broadway, just south of West Sheridan.

Young man stops right outside the door. Gets on knees. Begins to pray.

Concierges: Living In Their Own World

I took a call this morning at the box office from a hotel concierge, around 9.30 am.

"What time," she asked, "are your phones turned on?"

"9 am," I replied.

She laughed her little concierge laugh. "I'm sorry, I though they were turned on at 10."

I wanted to ask why she had called if she thought no one would answer the phone.

No, actually, I wanted to ask why she had wasted valuable time that I could have spent making fun of a fellow box office employee, the muscular Barbra- and Madonna-loving bartender I chatted with the night before, or whatever member of management was out of the room at the moment; time that I had to waste talking to a woman who had dialed a call with no expectation of talking to anyone.

Guess What? I'm Not From Around Here

Box office, Saturday morning, 30th September...

Caller: "I'd like to buy tickets for the show, for Saturday October 14."

Me: "At 4, 7, or 10?"

Caller: "We're coming in from Grand Rapids."

Me: ...waits patiently for caller to expand upon statement.



No such luck. Apparently, the fact that they are coming in from Grand Rapids should have been all I needed to figure what time they wanted to see the show.

"I'm sorry, the show for people from Grand Rapids is already sold out on that day. We still have seats for the people from Grand Rapids show on the following Saturday, though."

I'm Still Not From Around Here

Conversation with box office patron, by phone:

Patron: "Are there little busses that go to your theater?"

Me: "Ah, there are several public transit busses that service the area...I'm afraid I'm not sure what you mean by little busses."

P: "Well, I'm not from around here."

M: "Ah.....:

P: "We're going to be at Navy Pier [which she pronounced as if very carefully enunciating a foreign language out of a guidebook]. Are you far away?"

M: "The theater is about five miles north of downtown Chicago."

P: "How far are you from the Magnificent Mile?"

M: "That's downtown, and the theater is about five miles north of downtown."

P: "Oh, so you're by University of Chicago."

M: "Well, the University is south of downtown. The theater is north of downtown."

Heard On The Street

9 September, Balmoral and Lakewood. Woman pushing stroller, while her perhaps five year old daughter walks alongside.

Mother to daughter: "And my vagina says you're not."

Why Computers Are Not Always Smart...

I have just received an email from Hyatt Hotels. Based on the information I provided (with an eye toward getting a graphic design gig with the company), they say, I am qualified for the position of Manager, Quality Assurance. The job involves...

"management, analysis and reporting results of Guest and Meeting Planner satisfaction surveys, including vendor management, contract/pricing management, communication (written, verbal and formal presentations) and partnership with the corporate stakeholders (Operations, F&B, Marketing, Sales, Development, HR/Compensation, etc.)"

It looks like English. Doesn't make much sense. Partnership with corporate stakeholders?

• Primary vendor contact and management associated with special proprietary projects appended to these studies

Sure. I'm all about special proprietary projects appended to studies.

• Responsible for relationship-building with corporate stakeholders and hotels

Those stakeholders again. Who are these people?

• Responsible for traveling and conducting work sessions with individual properties to

I'm all for traveling. I wish they hadn't left off the last part of that second sentence, though.

A Day At The Box Office

Woman cuts in line at window.

Woman leans in.

Woman says: "We ordered our tickets with American Express. We don't have to wait in line, do we?"

Sadly, "we" did.

Look For Me On Project Runway

Not one, but two people at work today told me I was dressed drably, and not up to my usual standards. As my boss put it: "Jeans? A polo? K-Swiss sneakers? Where are the great clothes?"

Which means one of two things, I think.

I am incredibly stylish.

Or the people I work with are so incredibly not stylish, that I seem to GQ material by comparison.

Give Me An S!

I was at Chicago's Shedd Aquarium recently, in the company of some dear friends from Michigan and their (as it turned out) adorable children. We made our way to the elevators that take guests down to the Wild Reef exhibit.

There was a woman there, we'll just say an older woman, a Shedd employee.

Was she enticing guests to visit the Wild Reef with charming patter, or a winning spiel?

No.

What she was doing was this: she was (almost) yelling "Sharks! Sharks! Sharks"

She would occasionally mix things up by adding "S! H! A! R! K! S!"

Where's My Geritol?

Late summer, 2000. Around 10 o'clock in the evening.

I stand at the corner of Broadway and Montrose, waiting to cross the street.

Someone calls out, "Ooooh, daddy." It's obvious from the tone that the young man calling this out has seen someone he would like gain conjugal knowledge of.

I look around, to see the young man, and to see who he might be referring to.

I see a young, muscular man, shirtless, glistening with sweat.

I see no one else.

I realize he was referring to me.

I realize that the young, muscular, shirtless, and it appeared, non-underwear wearing, hung, young man, who is smiling at me, was referring to me.

I realize he just called me "Daddy."

I feel old. I appreciate the obvious compliment... but... daddy?

A Brief Update About The Airline

A letter arrived yesterday, addressed to me, from that airline I loath.

I opened the envelope. I pulled out the letter.

Dear Ms Yvonne Cole*, it began.

I can't figure out if Ms Cole had the same complaint that I did, or if they are just utterly inept.

*Name changed.