Tag Archives: chicago

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hair

hair priorities over the decades

Alright – so we’re back in St. Louis finally… The trip back was a long ass kicker – taking nearly two hours to break free from Chicago rush-hour.

Took the following day to relax, do laundry and swim through the many iPhoto dumps made during the excursion.

While anally labeling and time stamping the images I remembered an older archive scan from yesterdecade. I had promised Brenna (previous non-entry) that I wouldn’t share her stogie pic with the world, (for if I was maintaining a blog – then fair turnabout would be posting an equally embarrassing photo of Tony). The one I have on hand – drags me right into that ball of shame…

“Dr. Tony” and I were best mates back in those days. I can still remember the adolescent sense of freedom when we’d drive for countless hours, nowhere, with the windows rolled down in his mother’s flesh colored Doge Aspen. Aside from the moving landscape, the only sensory stimulation was the blaring Duran Duran B-Sides and the stench our combined overuse of Beneton Colorsâ„¢. (And how did only I wind up being the fag?)

T’s new woman has definitely put him through a type of finishing school – I assume the kind you get when you shack up with a dame with real class… but funny – every once in a while little “Tonyisms” still surface. We’re all really the same people we were in high school – just polished up some.

Oh yeah – and with a significantly less pronounced focus on hair.

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high-end grub

smooooooooth

Returned to the hotel, freshened up and jumped the brown-line to Tony’s neck of the woods.

I’ve been friends with Tony since age 15. When I start doing the math, I start feeling really old.

tony and brenna dinner

“Dr. Tony”, works as a management consultant despite his doctorate in chemical engineering at MIT – Though he enjoys a decent salary, he is starting to learn that “souled out” feeling that comes when you become a corporate cog. He’s not happy – and it shows between his words and in his eyes. I think he’s getting ready to break out – and make a change. I know whatever he’ll do – he’ll kick ass..

 

Tony lives with his girlfriend Brenna – who I had only met in passing before. What a great woman. Articulate, complex, intelligent, oh yeah – and AN AWSOME COOK.

Dinner continued to the patio out back and consumed pricey red wine, cigars and designer cigarettes.
Brenna really let her hair down – which was reassuring… It’s one thing to be pleasant and wonderful and put on a good act for your boyfriend’s odd out of town buddies – but to cut loose and carry on like one of the boys? – She’s genuine. I hope Tony gives her a ring… This one’s a keeper.

Geoffrey, not used to red wine, got schlitzed. We poured him into a cab and returned to the hotel. I promised him that nobody would ever find out about him hitting on the cab driver since I don’t blog.

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in search of sausage.

Two Dorks and a Bag of Weenies

Today’s excursion – a visit of the Vienna Weenie factory on Chicago’s North Side.

We picked up Julie and James and raced north with hunger pangs and dreams of nitrates.

Victims of poor timing and planning – we learned after arriving that you have to call ahead to schedule a factory tour – AND – the employee cafeteria (open to the public) had already shut down for lunch.

Tina: death to weenies

Heartbreak.

The company store was open so we bought a bag of Vienna Cocktails Dogs and enjoyed them on the parking lot while waiting for Julie’s friend Tina to arrive.

Tina rocks. A spunky little school teacher with a great fashion sense, compulsive obsession with hair color, (it was orange last time we saw her), and a kinky streak we suspect would make any of the automatons at the Cell Block blush. She’s a friend-in-law by way of Julie – but we adore her nonetheless.

She expressed her disappointment at our predicament by destroying a cocktail weenie.
Hmmm.. Symbolism.

We ventured south to a place called The Pontiac – a retrofitted service station turned cafe.

We sat outside and socialized.. Enjoyed a sandwich – and moved on.. Tonight we head to my childhood friend’s home for dinner – not that I’m blogging or anything.

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cheesy music

had’s great distraction, music – mine,… cheese

The Virgin Music Store… Nothing virginal about it. The place smacks of seasoned tune peddling – and oh boy – they’re good at it.

Babybear was lost for about two hours. I scanned the DVDs and Books – and picked up a few things:
DVDs = Crash (the NC-17 version) and The City of Lost Children
BOOKS = Augusten Burroughs’ “Running with Scissors”.

I couldn’t tell you what all Chad bought – he finally surfaced with arms full of discs and a distinctly giddy expression on his face. I can tell you though that our tab-out made my little romps at Sony and Timberland look like amateur hour.

Stopped by boutique called H20 and picked up some mint scented body stuff.. It was a little silly standing there, waxing masculine, and asking which body scrub had alpha-hydroxy acids in them.

Hungry – we took the H20 girls’ advice and hit Giordano’s for lunch for some Chicago style pizza. They call it pizza but it’s really more like a cheese pie – and quite possibly the most decadent thing I’ve ever stuck in my mouth. Any residual apathy we had from last night’s bar excursion melted away in the cheesy goodness and we were soon back at the hotel suffering from a serious case of dairy-comma.

Staying in tonight… We’ve been going non stop since we got here. (and before).

Considering turning on the television. (gasp)… Anything is better than blogging.