And no, buffistas ain't got nuthin' on a roomful of trapped English teachers.

Kat speaks the truth. I happen to have an awesome department that enjoys hanging out together, but boy is that often not the case.

Hah. We're still trying to get my parents on Skype to talk to the boys. Of course, I'm the throwback who refuses to advance. My coworkers find it hilarious and frustrating that I won't a) share or use my gchat at work b) share my cell # (not that I ever answer it) c)won't skype with them (or set it up) and d) I will tell them over the phone to email me because otherwise they aren't getting their answer. I like the time buffer email allows. I like the documentation it provides. Also, the chance to edit. If it is that urgent, come to my office, and deal with the faces I'll make and the f-bombs I'll barely cut off. Or that I may crawl under my desk (for reals.)

Thank god I work with a bunch of sarcastic, blunt folk. Especially last night. Because I was on the phone with T and she was all "Dude, I didn't know I'd have to work, I took a sleeping pill so bear with me. " "Oh, this will be FUN. I'm tipsy. Let's see if we can avoid fucking this up. Wait, I didn't say that." "Don't worry, I probably won't remember this in the morning. Fucking Ambien." ".I'll tell our boss to put that in your performance report: can operate OPUS in her sleep!"

One thing I've learned these past couple months: I may feel like barfing, but I can still think in an emergency and immediately leap to contingencies. Work ones, at least. I'm a little boggled at that, but I am a planner at heart. I may waffle a bit a the onset (needing someone to tell me GET OUT when I've just heard the halon go off-hello lack of preservation instincts- there's a bit of denial of reality happening at that moment.) I just never considered myself any good at not having a plan, and having to formulate one on the fly when...I just want to barf. But give me a minute, and I'll have the immediate-after shit covered. Cause I'm a planner.

It's a sports-watching day: I spent the day out in the central Valley watching college students from all over the country play Ultimate Frisbee. Me, I was cold: I had a long sleeved shirt on, and then a pretty heavy wool sweater, then a windblocking fleece jacket, and a hat and gloves and a cashmere scarf. Whereas many of these kids were in shorts, or shorts over running tights.

It was hella fun: my oldest niece is one of the captains of her team, and we put them all up last night and cheered them on today and saw them beat a couple of other teams, and then went over to watch the boys' team play.

It made me miss my old frisbee-playing days, but I suspect my feet couldn't take it any more.

I also met a totally wonderful golden retriever who loves him a frisbee. And I got a windburn.

And now I am at home with my feet up and a Pisco sour, and life is pretty good.

News from Wisconsin... tomorrow the protesters are bring vuvuzelas.

This theatre review was posted yesterday:

Parrish's play — which reaches with more passion, wisdom and lyricism towards civic definition (and redefinition) than any Chicago work I've seen in a long, long time — captures this precise moment of Chicago's re-invention with such astonishing alacrity that you want Mayor-elect Rahm Emanuel and those jockeying to share his power to put down the reports, resumes and briefing books this Saturday night and head, not to party with the Bulls, but over to Belmont Avenue where they might ponder the living soul of the paradoxical town they will soon be leading, and to whose citizens they will need to articulate a vision that goes deeper than parking meters.

Tonight, Rahm Emanuel was in the audience.

News from Wisconsin... tomorrow the protesters are bring vuvuzelas.

Oh man. That's...hardcore. Vicious.

>News from Wisconsin... tomorrow the protesters are bring vuvuzelas.

Oh man. That's...hardcore. Vicious.

Only vicious if they bring vuvuzelas not just tomorrow,but Monday.

Dear Upstair Neighbor

I under stand you have two young children who, apparently, like to jump everywhere instead of walk. It is 10:30 at night. What the heck. The thudding and bumping is ridiculous.

No Love, Me

I have had a few different people occupy the upstairs apartment in the 2.5 years I have lived here. This is the first family I have wanted to confront.

Oh nice, now it sounds like they are running laps.

Things finally calmed down upstairs, so I decided it was safe to go to bed. The kid's bedroom must be above mine. More thudding and I can hear the dad saying something.

I've never had a problem like this before with apartment neighbors. I don't want to be confrontational, but yikes.