No Guts, No Glory.

Facebook Post-Hook Up Awkwardness

2009-03-28T12:36:00.008-05:00

If there's one thing I've grown to embrace about my life it's the awkwardness that seems to follow me everywhere. I am a natural magnet for all things "awk." This afternoon was no different.

I just got home from a super fun Saturday morning grad school class. Just made a sammich, plopped myself down on the couch, and of course went straight to Facebook for a necessary distraction before I start cramming for a midterm.

I had a message! How exciting!

Jake *****

Today at 12:55am

So sometimes long ago one-nighters end up in facebook friend territory...wow, hilarious! How is Chi treating you these days?

Was this message the result of a dare? A drunken haze? Desperation?

Mind you I met this individual at an 80's dive bar one humid night in August 2007, before I had my own apartment downtown again. We drank way too many vodka+Red Bulls, I may or may not have fallen on him while dancing to Journey (note to long-time readers: I was wearing THE red stilettos coincidence? I think not), and I might have ended up slurring "bar exam" more than once as we talked about his upcoming law school graduation. Despite all this, he was dead set on leaving with me, which I was pretty cool with. We took a cab to Lincoln Park when I realized we had a problem. I didn't live in Chicago anymore, and neither did he- he was visiting some friends for the weekend.

FAIL.

Shivering, I demanded that he give me his suit coat because I was freezing. He reluctantly obliged, and we started a drunken walk down the LP streets at 3 am, arm in arm, listless and without purpose. We wandered around aimlessly until I saw two beacons of hope: a 24-hour burrito place, and Miss Jen's apartment two doors down. Suddenly things were looking up.

After stuffing our faces with cheesy carne asada and guacamole, I rang Miss Jen's doorbell while calling her on repeat. After 10 tries, she answered the door with one eye open, and half asleep. She eyed up the stranger next to me with a quizzical expression and just said "Whatevs, come in, as long as he isn't a murderer who plans on killing us and stealing all my stuff, he can come in."

...and she said that in front of him, which means if he were a murdering kleptomaniac, he would have known already that we were on to him.

Jake and I stumbled into Miss Jen's apartment, only to realize that all of the furniture sans one living room arm chair was gone since she was moving out in a few days. GREAAATTTT. So while Jen slept like a baby on her queen size bed, I had to make out with this guy in a chair. In an empty room. In someone else's apartment. Outside the bedroom of her other roommate. At four in the morning. As you can imagine, I got real tired of it real fast, and abandoned him while scooting Jen over so I could join her in comfy, blissful sleep.

I woke up the next morning to Jen shaking me violently. "Kayleigh...Kayleigh...did you know that THAT RANDOM GUY is still here in my house?"

I groaned, rolled over. I had hoped that he would have bolted like a normal guy long before I woke up. I got up and peered around the corner into the living room. Jake was sitting, wide awake, playing on his phone. When he saw me, his eyes lit up and he exclaimed "I was waiting for you to get up! I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."

I visibly rolled my eyes, and dragged myself towards the bathroom as Jen looked at me and waved her arms around in all directions like an air traffic controller, signalling "WTF is going on here?! GET. HIM. OUT."

Immediately he tried to kiss me, and I turned my face at the last second so he awkwardly grazed my cheek. "Well I'm still really tired" I lied. "You should go." Blunt, and to the point.

Despite looking crestfallen, Jake shuffled to the door, stepped through it, and then turned and looked at me. "I really like you....I wish I lived here, I would try anything to make this work." I stared at him in disbelief, confusion. What was going on here? He leaned in again in an attempt to kiss me, but I reached forward and went for a hug instead, like a total dude. After a few awkward seconds, he grumpily asked for his suit coat back. I tossed it to him, bid him adieu, and closed the front door.

Two days later I had a facebook friend request in my inbox from Mr. Sensitive. I accepted, and never thought of it again, until this day almost two years later, when he decided to write me a message.

And that my friends, is another day in the awkward life of Kayleigh.

Kayleigh's Got Her Groove Back

2009-02-12T23:32:00.011-06:00

In the course of the last few months, I've amassed some "key learnings" if you will. Jess from Everyday Adventures in the City coined this phrase and writes a synopsis of her weekly key learnings every Monday. Hopefully she won't mind that I'm about to steal this idea and smuggle it over to this ole blog.

So what have I been up to? Great question. In the short answer: failing with men, journeying to Asia, gorging on delicious food, drinking a lot, etc. See? Nothing has really changed, has it?

Without any further adieu I'd like to present my "15 Key Learnings" of the Last Month or So. If you'd like me to expand on anything, comment it out, and I will build out a bigger post around it. Otherwise, psssfftttt!

So break out the fanfare, the champagne, and your awkward dance moves, because here we go...

1. It is 2009, and there are 25 year old men who still have bowl hair cuts.

2. It's pretty cool to stumble upon a Kimodo Dragon in the wild, until later you realize that it could have killed you.

3. Going from 90 degrees to -15 in less than 48 hours will make you feel insane and ill all at once.

4. While dining outside at a Vietnamese night market, don't just point randomly at something on the menu without knowing exactly what it is. The "dinner" will be served with its eyes, head, and organs still intact.

5. Elephants can paint pictures!

6. It's actually possible to get a "palms sweaty, I can't stop thinking about you" starry eyed silly puppy dog crush on a man 30 years older than you who is actually the same age as your father. Oops.

7. Getting up once on a 15+ hour flight is a bad choice. Trust me.

8. It is perfectly acceptable for all traffic to halt in the middle of rush hour in Bangkok so a man can walk his pet elephant across the street.

9. Ninety-nine percent DEET bug spray FAILS to repel mosquitos when you're deep in the Cambodian jungle.

10. When running from the Vietnamese police, always dive straight into a nearby bar. That way you can keep drinking, and chances are there is a secret nightclub upstairs.

11. Drinking 8 shots of vodka, 3 Buttery Nipple shots, and countless beers will somehow NOT make you throw up. I'm dubbing this the "miracle combination!"

12. If you're wearing a football jersey, Ugg boots, and a knit hat and crash your friend's salsa dancing class, men will still line up to dance with you.

13. Having sushi for the 3rd time in one week is that much more enjoyable if your ex is paying for it.

14. To cross the street in Saigon, Vietnam, you must walk very slowly into traffic that is coming straight at you at 60 miles per hour. This is due to the absolute lack of traffic rules or lights. Running across the streets, however, will get you a one way ticket to the morgue.

And finally, my personal favorite:

15. If you go out with a day trader that has A.D.D., he might give you one of his credit cards on the 2nd date and never ask for it back.

Oh hai

2009-02-08T01:38:00.002-06:00

How've you been?

...is anyone even out there? (crickets)

Kids' Table? Green Bean Casserole? Men in Tight Pants? NO THANKS

2008-11-27T10:16:00.009-06:00

When Kayleigh put out the all-call for guest-bloggers, I jumped at the chance. My own readers can really only take so much of me.

Most days, I'm slummin' it at Your Ill-fitting Overcoat, but today I'm kicking my feet up on the posh, solid-gold-trimmed throw pillows of No Guts, No Glory. Thanks for inviting me over, Kayleigh, and sorry that I forgot to take off my shoes.

xo
Laurie

==

I have a confession to make...

I don't really like Thanksgiving.

I know, I know. I already told you that I hate Halloween, and I've got posts bashing St. Patrick's Day, Columbus Day, Valentine's Day, and New Year's Eve already in the pike. Ebenezer Grinch, at your service.

I actually found a few sympathizers over the Halloween issue, but I suspect I'll have a harder time getting an 'amen' on this one. For most of us, Thanksgiving is a day off from work, a chance to stuff our faces, and there's even a parade involved. What's not to like?

Allow me to explain.

Thanksgiving means togetherness.

And, in my family, togetherness means yelling.

Half of my relatives are bleeding-heart, tree-hugging, commie-pinko democrats and the other half are bible-thumping, oil-drilling, right-winging republicans who, on the political spectrum, fall somewhere between Rush Limbaugh and Alex P. Keaton.

The battles are bloody ones and no one escapes unscathed.

Thanksgiving means food.

I was a vegetarian for seven years, so Thanksgiving has long been a yearly exercise in piling my plate with dinner rolls and canned cranberry, and praying no one noticed.

I grew up in the South, y'all. And the South? Doesn't really "do" vegetables.

Potato salad? Has bacon. Green bean casserole? Has bacon. Seven-layer salad? HAS BACON. Even the dessert-- a delectable marshmallow dish my grandmother appetizingly refers to as "Fruit Mush"-- is composed almost exclusively of gelatin, which is derived from horse bones and was thus off the menu.

I'm an omnivore now, but far too many of my formative Thanksgiving years were spent pushing pads of butter around a plate and being lectured on nutritional health by people who think "Bacon Bits" is a food group.

Thanksgiving means football.

And football means more yelling. It means loud shouting, long-standing rivalries, and men in tight pants doing things with each other that I don't understand and can't participate in. If I wanted to watch that, I'd go back to theater school.

Thanksgiving means being thankful.

I am all about thankfulness.

I am all about thankfulness, but I'd argue that it's hard to be thankful when you're running around like a butterball turkey with its head cut off, dirtying every pan in the house, and willing your oven to spontaneously reproduce.

Holidays = stress. And stress, for me, is not conducive to contemplative gratitude.

Thanksgiving means dining at the Kids' Table.

I am twenty-six-years-old. I've moved across the country twice by myself, I've attended three institutions of higher education, and I've recently learned how to do my own laundry. Two of my cousins are married, one is pregnant, and another is wanted in at least four states for tax evasion.

And yet, every Thanksgiving, we all cram around a card table and eat mac and cheese with plastic forks, relegated to chairs intended for someone sporting one-third of our body mass. And why do we do it? Because we are told to.

Side benefit: reduced proximity to the political "discussions" at the grown-up table.

Thanksgiving means honoring the first inhabitants of this great nation.

Honoring them, that is, by pillaging their land, eating their cornbread, and then watching football teams we've named after them, while crafting holiday headdresses out of construction paper, safety scissors, and a misguided fetishization of the exoticized Other.

Am I getting too deep here?

Thanksgiving means travel.

Whether it's a four-county station wagon caravan with three kids, a cooler of cheese sticks, and a lifetime supply of pool noodles...

... or an urban singleton in coach, sandwiched between a snoring grandpa and a shrieking infant, armed with only a cup of instant coffee and a dog-eared issue of Sky Mall...

I think we can all agree on one thing:

Traveling kind of blows.

Joking aside, I don't actually hate Thanksgiving.

The truth is that I relish any opportunity to spend time with my family, skip out of work, and escape the snow for a few days. I'm thankful for so many things in my life-- my family and pumpkin pie being two of them-- and although I'm thankful for those things every day, it's nice to have that yearly reminder.

I also really, really like mashed potatoes.

But if I'm going to travel across this great land, spend extended time with my family, prepare an elaborate meal in the kitchen, and count my many, many blessings... I prefer to do it on a day when liquor stores are open.

photos courtesy larimdame, suzyhomemaker, szczur

[Laurie- thank you so much for sharing this hilarious little gem. I owe you! Everyone, if you do not read Laurie's blog, go over there and do it now. There's never any time like the present! She is witty, funny, an amazing writer, and always shares the best pictures.

I hope everyone reading this has a wonderful and gluttonous Thanksgiving, even if you are banished to the kids' table, and stuck between two feuding relatives on the couch. If anyone needs me, I'll be curled up in a ball on my aunt and uncle's leather recliner, clutching my stomach and moaning as I watch the never-ending annual Thanksgiving marathon of the most amazing movies ever.

xo,

Kayleigh]

Teaching My Boss Drinking Games

2008-11-24T10:51:00.006-06:00

Boss: yup, these two pages will be separate
Kayleigh: got it
Boss: the first to flip a cup assigns drinks?
Boss: woops
Boss: wrong im

(Huh?)

Kayleigh: hahaha np
Boss: by the the way is that what flipcup is?
Kayleigh: the game flippy cup?
Boss: yeah

(Do I continue this conversation and risk my boss thinking I'm a drunken lush? Do I pretend like I never went to college and feign innocence? Oh, screw it.)

Kayleigh: there are two teams facing each other, usually playing on a long table of some sort. each player has a small amount (typically) of beer in a glass in front of them. one end of the table starts- then that person and the person across from them (who they are up against) have to chug the drink, place the cup down on the edge of the table, and try to flip it upside down
Kayleigh: it goes on and on down the line and whichever team does this the fastest wins.
Kayleigh: ahh, college (Don't judge me??)
Boss: holy smokes
Boss: much too cerebral for simpletons like myself
Kayleigh: haahah it is funny. i haven't played that in ages (Lie)
Boss: lol
Boss: so what happens when you flip the cup?
Kayleigh: you'll want to place the cup down on the edge of the table, so it's halfway hanging off. then, using a very gentle touch (too much power is a bad idea) flip the exposed edge upwards
Kayleigh: if you're lucky, you'll get it on the first few tries haha
Kayleigh: use two fingers when you flip. it's good form, haha. and now it appears that i do nothing but play drinking games lol
Kayleigh: good luck if you play :)
Boss: i'll probably pass

(Ed. note: AWE-SOME. Failure- 1, Kayleigh - 0).

Maybe I shouldn't tell my boss about how a week or so ago I walked home from the bars, drunk as a skunk at 3 am with some friends, and I suddenly made everyone stop and wait on the sidewalk. I then proceeded to run into a random bar and demand a free shot. That's right- I walked into a random bar drunk at 3m, walked up to the bartender, pursed my lips, put on a bossy face, and demanded free liquor. The bartender looked at me and said "come again?" So I repeated myself. Loudly.

A man who sat perched on a neighboring bar stool swiveled around and narrowed his eyes at me. He then identified himself as the owner of that fine ~~Cougar bar~~ establishment. After scrutinizing me, he nodded to the bartender and asked what I wanted.

"Whatever you're having" I coolly replied.

"Tom, pour two shots of Jamo. Can you handle Jameson?"

My stomach lurched. But I tilted my chin up defiantly and told him to bring it on. I took the shot like a champion, and the owner told me that he's never seen a female take down a shot of Jameson whiskey without so much as an involuntary facial twitch.

I laughed in his face, thanked him for the free shot, decided that I would never walk into that bar ever again. I then scampered back outside to my friends. Best 5 minutes ever.

Update: My boss just asked another co-worker - "Hey, Ray-did you drive me home from the bar Friday night? You didn't? What's that? I was dancing on a pole next to the window? Oh...."

My boss + Kayleigh = SOUL MATES.

Miss Me? Want to Guest Post?

2008-11-23T15:17:00.004-06:00

Hi everyone...if you can't tell, I'm experiencing some writers block. While I try to get my act together, do you have any questions for me? Is there anything you'd like to know or ask me? Do you have any lingering thoughts or questions from any previous posts of mine? I will answer every question with total honesty* no matter how embarrassing or ridiculous.

I hope to be back soon. So, my friends - fire away.

So while I am waiting for more writing inspiration, does anyone want to guest post for me? I'm interested in anyone and everyone. I'll accept the offers of the first 5 people who email me: kayleighblog at gmail dot com.

P.S. Who the heck is Edward, and wtf is the big deal about Twilight? It's driving me up a damn wall.

*Except I will not reveal my full name, telephone number, or home address. Sorry, kids.

The Haunting: Part 3 - The Reckoning

2008-11-03T22:20:00.002-06:00

(This is the final installment of my Haunting story. In case you need to get up to speed, here is Part 1 and Part 2).

Little did we know that things were just getting started.

Liar was to be first.

One night, as Liar slept, she woke up to a horrifying crash. She glanced at her digital alarm clock- it was exactly 3 am.

She clicked on her bedside lamp only to have the breath sucked from her lungs. She had four large picture frames hanging on the north wall of her bedroom. At 3 am, all four of those pictures projected themselves off of the wall, and landed FACE UP about 5 feet from where they had been hanging. It was physically impossible to have the pictures land face up, and end up in the middle of the room. It defied the laws of physics.

Liar was so terrified that she stayed awake for the rest of the night, shivering and crying in her bed, until daylight broke. When it was safe to leave the comfort of her bed, she ran to the solace of the kitchen, and pulled out a huge butcher knife from the main drawer. The knife was placed on the windowsill next to her bed, where it remained until the day we moved out. She refused to sleep without it.

We pondered the picture frame mystery. We inspected the frames lying on the ground face up. We knew that something immensely terrifying was happening here. Every time we had new 'contact' with the spirit, the intensity of the act was kicked up a notch or two. Now I was scared to be in the house alone, day or night. The Roommates and I worked in shifts to make sure that if possible, no one would ever be in the house alone.

It just wasn't safe.

My mother called me multiple times a day to check in and see if I was OK. I would listen to the hysteria in her voice, and her questions of how can I live there, and did I want to live at home for the remainder of my lease? But I couldn't do it. I couldn't abandon my roommates, no matter how scared I was.

The spirit showed itself to Miss Jen and the Director soon after Liar's personal test. This time, it would inflict physical harm. This time, we realized that our lives could be at stake.
____________________________________________

Miss Jen had the Director over for one of their regular sleepovers. Although the Director did believe in the ghost just as much as Miss Jen did, they never expected that he would experience anything with it. After all, things only happened to US. However, that all changed one night.

As Miss Jen and Director laid in her bed fast asleep, Miss Jen suddenly began having seizure-like activity, and spasms, similar to what happened to me every night. The Director woke up to see Miss J shaking violently and muttering IN A STRANGERS VOICE. He was so terrified that he shook her and shook her, screaming her name, and began sobbing hysterically because she had turned into something or someone else. Suddenly, without warning, it stopped.

It was 3 am.

As they clutched each other, sobbing hysterically, Director informed Miss Jen of what had just happened. She didn't even know that all of those things had occurred. It was if she had been dreaming.

It was then that they heard rustling and movement underneath the bed. Their descriptions ranged from "a wild animal" to "something out of Aliens". Imagine laying in bed hearing something rustling underneath it. A literal monster under the bed.

Somehow they feel asleep.

I woke up at 9 am to the sound of their screams.
____________________________________________________

Miss Jen had a huge tapestry nailed into the wall above her bed. The tapestry had a piece of wood at the top, with three nails pounded in to ensure that the tapestry hung properly. This same piece of fabric had been in place without incident for almost a full year at this point.

At exactly 9 am, the piece of wood holding the tapestry wrenched itself out of the wall and cascaded down to the two sleeping bodies below. The wooden beam brained the Director in the forehead, and gave him a huge black eye. Somehow, by the grace of God, the two inch nails landed with the spikes pointing up. Otherwise the nails would have driven into his skull.

We inspected the nail holes in the wall to find out how the beam came loose. The three holes were widened and enlarged way beyond any possible capacity. It was to the point where someone would have had to grip the wood and move it up and down repeatedly in order to enlarge the hole, and have the beam slip out.

Except no one had done that.
__________________________________________________

We then considered calling a priest. Calling Ghostbusters. Opening the Yellow Pages and finding people that specialize in poltergeists and hauntings. We even tried to find out the history of our house in the Chicago library. We quickly realized that we didn't have the money for the former, and nothing showed up for the latter.

We couldn't have felt more alone.

____________________________________________________

I was fed up. Fed up with being so scared every night that I KNEW there could be monsters under my bed, or my sheets could be missing when I came home, or objects could fly across the room without will. I was through with worrying legitimately that every time I walked up and down a flight of stairs that something unseen would maybe push me down.

I did the only thing that I could rationalize as a viable option. I talked to it.

One afternoon while my roommates were at class, I sat down in my TV room and took in the stifling silence. Then -

"I am sick and tired of your b*llsh*t! Stop scaring my roommates and I. We get it, you're scary, and you know what? It's getting old. In fact, whatever, you seem like a total wuss anyway. Who haunts people like this? In fact, you probably don't really exist. You hear that? I DON'T BELIEVE IN YOU. I think you're pathetic."

I yelled that at the top of my lungs. When I was finished, I sat there on my couch, and tried to quell my stammering heart that was about to burst through my chest. I sat there for a good 20 minutes in silence, half expecting the damn guy to appear and start choking me. But all I got was silence.
________________________________________________

The next morning I woke up on my own at 8:30 am with a splitting headache. This was rather unusual and completely unprovoked. I stumbled to the bathroom, took some Excedrin, and fell back into bed. I didn't have to be up until the afternoon, and consequently hadn't even set my alarm. The birds were chirping, sunlight was peeking through my blinds, and I could hear children outside on their way to school. I relaxed and closed my eyes.

Not 10 seconds after closing my eyelids, I heard the voice. A man's voice.

A man's voice was speaking in a hushed tone from somewhere in the near vicinity. The voice had low decibels, and was seemingly speaking gibberish at rapid speed. I continued to lay there with my eyes closed, and I thought "No way. NO WAY. This cannot be happening, this cannot be happening..." I refused to open my eyes.

The voice would not stop. I realized that I had to open my eyes. So I did.

Nothing was there, but the voice continued. Where was it coming from? I was spellbound, and had goosebumps so large that they literally hurt.

I looked over at my digital alarm clock. The digital numbers had vanished. I crept slowly towards it, and placed my ear next to the speaker. The voice was coming from my radio.

I looked in disbelief at the electronic device. The radio was in the "off" position, and the alarm was not set. I tried turning the radio on, off, setting the alarm, changing volume, and flipping through the stations. Nothing, absolutely nothing, made this man's voice stop or even WAIVER. His voice just kept talking, talking, talking, talking even though the radio was OFF. I remember thinking "this is unbelievable...what is he saying? What is he trying to tell you?" but I was so scared that I needed to get out of there.

I ran.

Liar was the only one home, so I burst into her room sobbing, and demanded that she come here the ghost talking through my radio. The minute Liar crossed the my door frame, the man stopped talking. We were mystified. I then unplugged the radio, tried plugging it back in, and tried to turn it on. The digital numbers stayed off, and now absolutely nothing was coming out of the speakers. It appeared that it was broken.

Shaking and uncontrollable, I loudly proclaimed that I needed to talk to my mother. I had finally reached my breaking point. I grabbed my cell phone, which had been charging all night, and started dialing my mom. As soon as I hit "send", my phone made a beeping sound and informed me that its power supply was suddenly drained, and that it was powering down.

How could this be happening.

Liar suggested through incredulous eyes and tears, that I try charging it in a different room. I yanked the chord out of the wall and started charging the phone in the TV room. As I pressed the phone into the charger, the charge light flashed "on, off, on, off" over and over and over. Holy sh*t. This thing was MESSING WITH ME. At that point I went off the deep end.

Panic and hysteria set in. Liar tossed me her cell phone which strangely was not affected by the power drain. She then uttered the fateful words "I need to get my laundry - I'll be right back." Every single scary movie has a similar line. When you hear that, you know something bad is about to happen. This time was no different.

Hands shaking, I dialed my house. As soon as my mom answered the phone, a fresh set of tears sprung from my eyes and I screamed "Mom!!!! (through sobs) I have never been more scared in my life than I am right now".

At that exact moment, the table lamp next to me turned on by itself, despite the fact that it's a click lamp. My cell phone began charging, my clock radio began blasting Garbage "I'm Only Happy When It Rains" at an obnoxiously loud volume, my desktop computer shut down and restarted, and the microwave in the kitchen scrambled.

All of those objects were plugged into different outlets, in different rooms. And all of those objects belonged TO ME. In fact, my computer was plugged into the same power strip as Miss Jen's laptop and Liar's printer. It only wanted me.

I then laid on my couch, my body wracked with sobs, listening to Shirley Manson echoing through the house. It would have been a somewhat comical sight if it hadn't been so terrifying.

Well it certainly showed me.
______________________________________________

At this point we only had a few more days left in our lease. We were all totally convinced that it was either going to appear to us, or physically hurt us. Things had escalated to a frightening point. We knew we weren't safe. We just had to make it a few more days...

In those few days I saw what I would dub "the shadow people" more often than I can count. The fleeting image of something reflected in glass out of the corner of your eye, and when you turn to see what it is, you've literally missed it by a half second. Our entire apartment was covered in glass hutches, and a myriad of windows. I saw....things. Things that darted just out of my line of vision. Things that were watching me.

On my last night I sat in the TV room, trying to distract myself in a weird attempt to fall asleep. Liar had closed a door that actually divides the first floor hallway, and the door fit too snugly in the doorjamb. That meant that in order to close the door, you had to literally push it with all your might into the door frame. It was noisy, and barely fit.

As I sat and watched TV, I would hear that door squeaking as if it was being pushed. This went on every 20 minutes or so. I refused to go look at it. When I went to brush my teeth, I had to walk right past the door. The door was literally open. The only way that could have happened is if someone did it themselves. I had been there the entire time. No one else.
___________________________________________

The next morning was a happy one, for we were close to leaving forever. It was then that the things that had been stolen from us months before mysteriously re-appeared. I found my tweezers resting on the bathroom sink. Miss Jen found her one earring in the TV room. Liar found her bag of bobby pins in her dresser drawer. We had no idea how they got there.

As I finished packing up my room, I found a discarded camera memory card in one of my jewelry boxes. After examining it, I placed it back inside the jewelry box and closed the lid. I then bent down and for about 30 seconds rummaged through my duffel bag full of sweaters. When I stood up, the memory card was resting ON TOP OF the CLOSED jewelry box. Within 30 seconds an object that I had placed inside another object had moved outside again.

At this point, I just let it all sink in and started to laugh. I had to. I laughed and laughed until tears started pouring down my cheeks. It was not going to have the best of me.
_____________________________

The three of us gathered in the now empty TV room, and embraced fiercely. The entire house was empty and packed except for a few crates and boxes that were stacked neatly in Liar's room. We even deemed it safe to pack the butcher knife.

As we stood there, clasping each other, crying, laughing, and saying "we did it! We survived!!! It's almost over!!" we heard a series of loud crashes.

We ran into Liar's room, where every single thing had been turned upside down and throw across the room. We quickly fell into silence.
______________________________________

I was designated as the person to do the final run-through of the place. Liar and Miss Jen ran to the safety of the front outside porch and waited for me to open every single door, closet, etc. to see if anything was accidentally left behind.

To this day I am not sure how I summoned the courage to do this. It was one of the creepiest things I have ever experienced. It was a bright, warm, beautiful summer day, yet I felt clammy, cold, and watched. The house moaned and creaked as I silently made my way through, opening and closing doors as quickly as I could. It was almost as if the house were alive. I felt like it had sprung a myriad of eyes, and that it was watching my every move; trailing me over my shoulder.

I left the keys on the kitchen counter, and literally turned and sprinted down the front steps, never to go inside again.

When I got to the street, I turned and stared at the house once more. I made it. I had won.

_________________________________

My parent's next door neighbor have a daughter my age, who (completely random) had lived in the same unit of that apartment building right before me. When I went to see the house for the first time, I saw that she lived there and was shocked but excited. She was quick to pass the house off to me; quick to sing its praises.

A few days after I moved out, this girl's mom called my mother to do their bi-yearly chit chat. As the conversation flowed, this woman all of a sudden goes "So...did your daughter think the house was haunted?"

My mom almost dropped the phone. There was no way this woman knew of anything, because we never told her. Heck, my mom would never go around saying her daughter's house was haunted. She didn't want to end up in the nut house.

"Yes...in fact...Kayleigh and her roommates experienced a lot of things in that house."

The neighbor laughed. "Makes you wonder how they ever survived a year at that place, doesn't it?"

If they only knew.

Happy Halloween! (Plus a little treat for you)

2008-10-31T11:39:00.006-05:00

I want to take a break from the regular scheduled programming which in this case, means my Haunting story, to bring you some Halloween smiles and festiveness. As for the Haunting: Part 1 & 2, thanks for reading and for your comments! It has been harder than I thought to write this stuff down, but it feels good to finally do so. Your comments keep me going! Welcome to all the new readers who jumped in just in time for this spooky series. Part three will be coming either later this afternoon or tonight (muwhoahahahaha!).

OK so I have a treat for you all- I don't really ever post pictures of myself on the blogging internets, but just for fun, I am linking to a post from last year with me in costume. I was a snow leopard. Cue unoriginality here. But since I am not dressing up this year (stupid grad school orientation at 8:30 am November 1st) I thought it would be fun to share here.

What is everyone dressing up as??

I also wanted to share a picture of flyers hanging up in the kitchen of my workplace. This proves how flippin' cool my company is. Not only are we having a pizza party, but they are giving out cash prizes for the best costumes. The Sarah Palin flyer just made me laugh, period, especially the last line. You may have to click to zoom in on this one.

Oh, and Halloween trickery started early around here. Yesterday there was a SHOOTING 100 feet from my place of employment, and not even 30 minutes after I had been walking outside in the same exact place. Turns out this dude pulled a knife on a cop, and consequently got capped in the shoulder. Some stray rounds flew into a nearby building. Nothing like sitting in your cubicle at 9:30 and hearing gunshots on a Thursday. The town where I work is extremely upscale and such, so everyone was in an absolute uproar. I thoroughly enjoyed sipping my coffee and looking out of our 3rd story window watching the ballistics unit plotting bullet trajectories, marking the shells with neon cones, and putting up crime scene tape EVERYWHERE.

CSI, Chicago!

Have a safe and fun Halloween, everyone!

The Haunting: Part 2 - The Defiance

2008-10-30T22:40:00.004-05:00

(This is part II of my haunted apartment story. Part 1 can be found here.)

They never did say "I told you so" -but then again, they didn't have to. When daylight finally came, my roommates and I silently crept up the stairs to the second floor to survey the damage.

Absolutely nothing was out of order. Nothing.

We all looked at each other, and wordlessly understood that we would have to band together from here on out. We had no idea what was yet to come.

The night I heard the running footsteps marked the last night I would feel in control when it was time for bed. Every single night from there on out was filled with my salty, hot tears; whimpers; and borderline hysteria.

The very next night, the spasms started. Every single night after I first heard the footsteps, something would seemingly possess my body for a few short seconds when I would lay in bed.

I never wanted to turn the lights off. I would get into my pajamas, say goodnight to my roommates who's rooms seemed a world away, and shaking, would retire to my room.

I slowly would drag myself into bed, and lay perfectly still underneath all of my covers, while staring at the blank white ceiling. Not a single inch of flesh was exposed from under the covers, save my face. It didn't matter that it was so warm that I was sweating.

The first time the spasm occurred I wrote it off as a bizarre and frightening experience that would probably never happen again. But then it did- over, and over, and over, and over. Every. single. maddening. night.

About ten minutes into laying down for the evening (under the covers, with the lights on, staring at the ceiling, totally and vividly awake) I would start to get a tingling sensation in my lower legs, almost as if they were falling asleep. The tingling would escalate into a feeling that I am quite unable to explain, but it was just DIFFERENT from the normal 'limbs falling asleep' feeling. When this happened I would close my eyes and fight the tears, because I knew what was going to happen next. As soon as the 'tingling' got to epic proportions, my entire body would jerk violently, my back would arch, and my body would literally propel into the air in my bed. It was all over in 2 seconds, but those were two seconds that my body was not in my control. I would then lie in bed, sobbing silently. It made me feel so powerless, so afraid. Even now that I type this out, it must seem crazy and not make any sense. I wish I could have it make sense. But just imagine this happening every single night for months. Knowing that it was about to happen and being POWERLESS to stop it.

I was so scared that I would sob myself to sleep every night, lights on and all, and just when I could sense that I was a breath away from deep sleep, I would suddenly jump up, lunge forward, and turn the light off. The goal was to fall back into bed so quickly that I would instantly fall asleep. Sometimes when I woke up in the morning the light would still be on.

This nightly routine was interrupted a week or so after I started getting the involuntary spasms. One night, I hit the lights off, but when I fell back into bed, I was suddenly wide awake.

This was bad.

Utter fear permeated every sense of my being. I was too afraid to get up and turn it back on, because that would mean leaving the comfort and solace of my blankets. To be exposed to IT. What if it appeared to me when I was out of my bed? If I laid in bed and stuck it out, at least I could hide underneath all of the covers.

So I laid there in the jet black darkness, praying silently for sleep to overcome me. The house began to settle- creaks and groans echoed throughout. Then I noticed that I felt very, very cold. In fact, it was just my face. My face was cold.

Suddenly I realized that every time I breathed, little puffs of white breath filled the air. The moonlight filtered in through the window and illuminated the clouds of my jagged breathing. The air was so cold that I could see my breath.

It was April.
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Miss Jen's mom decided to surprise us with a visit soon after. When she came into the house, she greeted us all cheerfully and announced that she was just going to crash upstairs- after all, it had a fouton, TV, fridge, closet, and bathroom with a shower. Why would she NOT sleep up there? We all exchanged looks.

The Roomies, Miss Jen's mom, and I all decided to go out to dinner and have a few laughs. I parted ways soon after to meet up with my boyfriend for awhile. Everyone else went shopping, and then home to the apartment.

When I arrived back at home later that evening, Miss Jen and her mom anxiously greeted me at the door, asking if I stopped at home right after dinner before going to The Athlete's place for snuggle time. "Um, no." I replied. And then the dreaded question. "Why?"

Turns out that Miss Jen's mom went upstairs after they returned in order to put on some comfy clothes and drop off some purchases. Her suitcase had been unzipped, and her clothes were strewn all across the room. A floor lamp was knocked over. Her toiletries had been removed from a tiny bag and thrown across a table.

Her mom literally thought that I went through her stuff and did that. She couldn't have been more wrong. I verbally cursed the ghost for taking things to this scary new level. Physically moving personal, large objects was pushing the limits for me. Any shred of control that I felt disappeared that day.

Two weeks later, The Roomies and I woke up particularly hung over on a Sunday, and headed to a greasy local diner for some comfort food. It was a beautiful spring day, and we returned to the apartment laughing and singing.

I walked into my room and was stunned.

Someone had stripped the sheets off of my bed, and threw them on the ground. My pillow was tossed into a remote corner of my room. My comforter, as in an act of defiance, was thrown directly on the ground in front of my bed, where I step to lunge towards the light switch every night. My blood literally ran cold. This thing was taking the ONLY comfort that I had in the house, my bed and its contents, and deliberately STRIPPED them and THREW them down on the floor. As if to say, haha, I'll get the best of you yet, and even better- I'll be waiting for you when the sun comes down.

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The TV/family room was literally right outside of my bedroom, and sometimes I would sit and watch TV by myself when the girls were asleep. The soft glow of the screen and the muffled voices made me feel human again, and allowed me to forget about what was watching me in the dark. One of those times I suddenly noticed that every minute or so, my head would literally unknowingly turn and glance into the dining room, as if to nonchalantly check on something. This is the same room that the dog freaked out in, and the same room where I would sit at my computer as I felt someone stare into my back.

When I suddenly realized that I CONSTANTLY and INVOLUNTARILY looked over into that room, I was very alarmed. Something was compelling me to look over there. This next part will probably sound strange, but I am totally convinced of it. It was then that I moved to the opposite end of the TV room and sat on the couch that faced out into the dining room. I decided to face the sensation head on, and defiantly stare right into the room.

I then felt the creepiest, and most spine tingling sensation that a man in his 40's or mid-50's was standing straight up in the middle of the dining room, facing me. Boring right into me. He wasn't smiling. He didn't look mean necessarily, but he looked foreboding. I literally saw this man although he didn't literally 'appear' to me. I know that this doesn't make a lot of sense. But I was utterly convinced that the man I imagined was really indeed standing there, staring right into me. Little did I know that my theory would be proved a few weeks later.

I spent many nights at The Athlete's, crying into his pillow and mumbling about how my house was possessed, and how I was losing my mind. He would absentmindedly pat me on the head and listen to me ramble, but I knew he thought I was exaggerating what was going on in the house. He didn't really believe that it was haunted. He thought it was my imagination. I don't blame him for thinking this, because nothing ever happened if strangers were there. It wanted us.
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But The Athlete would soon change his mind. Little did we know that in a few weeks time, my roommates and I would each be personally tested by the spirit in physically terrifying ways that we could never imagine.

Sleeping with butcher knives next to our beds then became commonplace.

Sanity was quickly forgotten.

The Haunting: Part 1 - The Beginning

2008-10-28T23:05:00.011-05:00

March, 2004:

As I write this, I literally shake in fear. There was a time in my life when I really knew terror. When I could taste it, hear it, and see it. When my home held me prisoner to the desires of an unseen assailant; when I had no knowledge of what would happen next, or if I was safe. When I laid in bed night after night, shaking in terror, while counting down from 1,000 with the lights on just to try and fall asleep for a few blissful hours.

I was, however, a disbeliever of the supernatural for the first 20 years of my life. I scoffed at the idea of ghosts and hauntings. Who had time to believe such nonsense? When me and my two roommates, Miss Jen and another awful individual whom I will only refer to as Liar, signed the lease to our new apartment, we noted that it looked rather....dilapidated. Scary. Run-down. Foreboding.

If I knew then what I know now, I would have dropped the keys and started running.

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Miss Jen and Liar were always very superstitious individuals who believed in the possibility of ghosts with every fiber of their being. Miss Jen, in fact, is highly intuitive and from day 1 she mentioned that she was a bit creeped out by the house. That something about it was nagging her, almost as if the house was like a creature laying dormant in hibernation until the day it returned to the world ravenous and full of intent. She knew, and the house made her feel uneasy. Liar would join in on the sentiments, and the two of them always looked at me skeptically when I laughed at their fears.

The first ten months of our lease went without a hitch. The unsettling feelings that my roommates initially felt were slightly diffused due to the lack of any sort of bizarre activity in the house. None of us suspected that the last two months would be filled with sheer terror.

Miss Jen and I have tried to come up with a reason as to why the hauntings started then. Why March 19th, 2004? We only came up with one solution: it was anger. After St. Patrick's Day, the three of us had a sort of disagreement about various living situations, and decided through lots of yelling and tears, that it would be better if we all moved out and split up for the next year. We truly believe our promise to leave the apartment and our discord caused the spirit to start acting; to make himself know. Yes, I did say himself. The ghost was 100%, without a doubt, a man.

The haunting started off in a way that made you do double takes, made you question yourself, and others around you. My first incident came when I decided to take a shower in our upstairs bathroom one night after a long day of school. The roomies were contentedly sitting on the loveseats on the main floor, watching some RomCom's while sighing over Hugh Grant. I excused myself and headed upstairs.

Looking at the picture of that hallway still to this very day makes the hair rise on the back of my neck. I get chills. I remember what it felt like to stand there. That picture depicts what you see when you walk up the flight of stairs to our top floor, and stop at the landing. A huge room was converted out of the attic, which is what you see straight ahead through the open door. The bathroom where I was showering was off-camera to the left.

All the lights were off. No surprises there, but I was kind of creeped out anyway, but that's just because pitch black dark freaks me out, especially when matched with eerie silence. I reached over and flipped on the hallway light, one of those simple up-down flip switches that instantly bathed the long hallway in blissful white light.

My shower was uneventful. I wrapped my hair in a towel, pulled on some clothes, and opened the bathroom door. The hallway was bathed in darkness. I hesitated for a moment, and rationalized that the light bulb must have burned out while I was in the shower. Just to make sure, I reached forward and flipped the switch. The hallway was once again illuminated. The switch had been pushed to the 'down' position.

Rather ticked off, I stormed downstairs proverbial guns blazing. Miss Jen and Liar looked up from the TV in mid-laugh. When they saw the look on my face their smiles melted away. I accused them of playing a prank on me and turning the light off. Their blank faces confused me. They knew nothing about it, and in fact, they hadn't moved since I last saw them. I told them that this was impossible, because someone had pushed the light switch into the off position. The light bulb wasn't burned out. I remember how frustrated and angry I felt that no one ponied up to the prank. However I will never forget how hurt and confused they looked either. They genuinely acted like they didn't know, and that was what threw me off.

Soon after this, the memory of the light switch incident lingered in my memory, and would be put to the test. Miss Jen was dating a guy I'll call Director, and they bought a puppy together. I'll never forget the first time the dog came to our house.

Puppy bounded up the stairs, walked into our main dining room, and froze. We all laughed and called her, trying to coax her towards us. The dog ignored us. That's when we noticed that the fur on the back of her neck was standing up. The dog fixated her stare on one corner of our dining room ceiling, and wouldn't break eye contact. This went on even after she slowly backed herself into another wall. We all stood there in silence, watching this dog who two seconds earlier had been bounding through the front door barking. I cannot describe in words how eerie it is to see an animal emit the kind of behavior that I saw that day. It was like she was STARING intently at something that none of us could see with our naked eye. She was dead set on it, and wouldn't move for a very long time. She also began to let out muffled whimpers. Miss Jen looked at me with eyes the size of saucers.

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The presence of a disturbance began to infiltrate my mind and challenge my rationale and sense of reality. I started to sense that certain areas of the house were unnerving. That is the only word I can think of that is remotely accurate. The room where the dog freaked out- that was where my desktop computer was. When I typed at my desk, I started to sense that someone was standing in the middle of the room a few feet behind me, and that their eyes were boring into the back of my head. The hair on the back of my neck started to stand up. The window immediately to my left served as a mirror for me to look back into the room without turning around. To be honest I was too afraid to look, even though I still chalked all of these things up to randomness at this point.

(Here is a picture of that room. The end table with the vase was where my computer desk ended up going).

The landing at the top of the stairs where the infamous light switch incident took place started to give me the creeps, too. I would walk up the stairs and pause after the final step, and stare out into the long hallway. An overwhelming sense of dread and spookiness would wash over me, every time. Something in the house had changed. In fact, when I would walk through the kitchen to the back of the house to even get to those stairs, I would start feeling like someone was sitting on my chest.

Then came the day when each one of us discovered that things were suddenly missing. Miss Jen was missing one rhinestone earring. Its companion glittered from a Dixie cup on her nightstand, where she kept them every night. My tweezers which usually graced the downstairs bathroom shelf vanished. Liar's tiny bag of bobby pins? Gone. All things that we used on a regular basis- all things we would realize were missing. We accused one another, and tensions ran high. I had to explain to Miss Jen over and over that I would never steal one earring. I accused Liar of taking my tweezers. The guilt continued until each of us narrowed our eyes and looked at one another and realized that we were all telling the truth. We were dumbfounded. How could things just....disappear?

My class schedule was such that I was usually gone from mid-morning until early evenings, every day. The roomies, however, got to chill around the apartment together watching movies on certain afternoons when I wasn't there.

One night I came home to find them both wiping tears from their eyes. They were huddled together on the couch, whispering to one another intently. Bewildered, I asked them what was the matter, and for pete's sake, why are you whispering? "Because..." they said. "We don't want it to hear..."

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I found out that night that The Roomies were totally convinced that our house was haunted, and that all the strange things that had already occurred were building up to greater and scarier things. I scoffed and laughed at them, but a small part of me felt frozen in fear. Weird things had been going on around the apartment, and my sense of unnatural things had been flying off the charts. Despite the sliver of self doubt, I stuck to my guns, and figured that I had to laugh it off and dismiss the ghost as a figment of their imagination.

"Really?" I said. "And why are you TOTALLY convinced that there's a ghost here?"

Miss Jen and Liar gripped each other's arms, looked at each other, and gulped nervously.

"Because, Kayleigh...when you're not here, we hear it. It runs on the second floor. It sounds like it's breaking things, but then everything is always fine. It only runs when you aren't here."

They both promptly burst into tears. I'm going to be truthful- I was furious at them for this admission. I honestly thought it was all an act to scare me, since I refused to believe that ghosts existed in the first place. I began to affiliate all the strange things with deliberate actions by my roommates. The thought made me absolutely livid.

That night I tucked myself into bed, in my tiny room the size of a walk in closet, that graced the front of the house and happened to be one room off from the room with my computer. I laid in bed, about to doze off into sweet release, when I hear the first few thumps.

My eyes shot open.

In the darkness my heart began to race. Then, without any mistaking it, I heard a stumble- then rapid, angry, deliberate footsteps running wild on our second floor. The footsteps ran from my end of the house to the other. BOOM, BOOM.....BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM - *CRASH!*. This went on repeat for at least 15 minutes. The footsteps were so loud, and the ceiling and walls so thin, that the LIGHT FIXTURE in my room was SWINGING back and forth from the vibrations. My bed frame shook silently, as if in fear, and my tense body lay paralyzed in a death grip with the comforter.

Crashing ensued. It sounded like everything we owned upstairs had been shattered. The light above me continued to sway, and hot tears sprung up behind my eyes. Suddenly, I knew my roommates weren't lying. Suddenly I knew that I had been wrong. Suddenly I knew I was so terrified that I couldn't have moved if I tried. I remember laying there, thinking over and over and over and over "there is no explanation for this, there is no explanation for this" until I felt like I was going insane.

Just as suddenly as it began, the running and crashing stopped. The house was again bathed in eerie silence along with its inky darkness, except this time it was full of secrets. And now I knew that something was there, watching me.

It had begun.

I Need Your Prayers

2008-10-27T23:14:00.003-05:00

I am rarely deadly serious on this blog. But I've just been issued devastating news and I need to just...know that people out there might be willing to send good thoughts and prayers in my family's direction.

Even now I don't know how to say it without it sounding cold and distant, but I don't know how else to express my emotions right now.

My maternal grandmother battled breast cancer when I was in high school, and beat it. One huge hurdle in the family. We all thought at the time that her illness was our big test of faith, of courage, and of will. Look what happened, too- we beat it!

Then, last Christmas, my 3 year old cousin got bacterial meningitis. He was hospitalized for 3 months, and is now permanently brain damaged. He can't speak, can't walk, can't take care of himself, and it's still a question as to if he is aware of his surroundings/can recognize faces.

When that happened, I thought to myself "This is it. There is no way that this isn't the biggest test of our family's life." My cousin should have died a hundred times over but he always pulled through. His case is so incredible that he is used as a teaching tool for doctors at their Children's Hospital. My mom spent the first 2 months of 2008 away from home, helping their family take care of their house and their other two kids. We are all so thankful that my cousin is still with us, despite the fact that the little boy we used to know is gone forever. We mourn the loss of someone who is still alive.

I thought I had already been dealt with all the bad news I could handle for 2008. I thought that I was about to close out this year while holding my breath, keeping any other bad news at bay. I was wrong.

Tonight my mother called me and informed me that one of her sisters has breast cancer. She isn't even 50. I am horrified, hurt, angry, scared, and at a loss. She's having a test done in a few days to see if it has crept to any other areas of her body. I'm scared for her, I'm scared for my mom's health, and as the only daughter between my mom and her sisters, I am terrified for me. It sounds selfish to hear news about someone else and immediately think of you and your immediate family, but I couldn't help it. I'm just scared, and I want to know when is this all going to stop? When?

Then my mom decides to tell me that my aunt and uncle, the parent's of my cousin that had the illness mentioned above, are getting a divorce. In fact, my uncle moved out of his house two months ago, and is now living with my aunt who is sick. A dysfunctional pair of sadness, humiliation, and fear. My mom's side of the family is like the Brady Bunch. She's the oldest of 6, and we all run like a pack. We're tight. We're old-fashioned and old-school. This sort of thing just....doesn't happen in my family. We are all so close and now we are being wrenched apart.

I don't know what to think of anymore. I went to church last night at an absolutely gorgeous cathedral and couldn't shake this sinking feeling the entire time. I had a feeling that I would be coming there more often. I just knew that something was about to happen. I brushed it off to some other things, not realizing that this was indeed what was coming. How could I know?

So whether you are religious or not, take a second to just have a little chit chat with God on behalf of my family. We really need it.

I promise I will return to regular postings this week. Thanks for listening.

A Year in My Dating Life: A Look Back

2008-10-20T22:26:00.006-05:00

Only recently did I realize that I've had this blog for a little over a year now. It's been a year since I started sharing my thoughts with the world, a year since I moved back to downtown Chicago, a year since I weaned myself off daily doses of delicious dinners (courtesy of the mom), and most importantly - it's been a year since I rejoined the dating world after a long hiatus.

When I lived at home in the burbs and my roommates consisted of mom and dad, my love life kind of took a nose dive. My socializing was done at work, and the weekends were spent in a literal drunken haze with my friends from college. I was still weaning myself off of my college party schedule, and therefore spent most Saturdays and Sundays hungover, curled up in a whimpering pathetic ball of human fail. Even if I met a normal, cute, smart, cultured, and decent member of the male species during that time I wouldn't have known what to do with myself. Basically, I was a hot mess.

When I finally had an apartment to call my own, I resolved myself to the notion of "acting more like an adult" while "eating frozen dinners only on days of the week that end in 'y'" and "putting myself out there". It was time for me to date again.

So I invite you to take a look back with me on my life in dating* from last year to present times. It wasn't always easy, it wasn't always fun, but like a champ I stuck with the program. I was determined to put myself out there, no matter how much the dudes sucked, were more metrosexual than the cast of Queer Eye, were rich and snobby, were borderline stalkers, or just plain old boring.

So, here we go. A look back....

1) Brandon

Lowdown: 28 year old attorney living in a tricked out condo in the heart of Chicago's posh Gold Coast neighborhood.

The Look: Resembles a European model. Expensive leather shoes, custom-made Armani suit, Cartier watch, silky locks that you just want to run your hands through.

First Date: Drinks at a posh bar in an upscale hotel- the epitome of glitz and glamour, where you can schmooze and rub elbows with Chicago's elite. Think clean, elegant lines, imported leather furniture, snooty cocktail waitresses, and drink ingredients that you can't even pronounce.

Oh #&$! Moment: When I asked what he and his friends like to do for fun, Brandon took a sip of his Manhattan and calmly exuded uppity-high class snippery, while he commented that he and his friends smoke cigars and drink in one of the main bars at The Drake Hotel on the weekends. This particular bar has a freaking HARP in it, people. So that's how he occupies his free time, you know, when he's not in New York or Miami.

What do I do for fun Brandon? I go to dive bars, take one too many shots, forget my name, and on occasion fall asleep in my stilettos. Glad you asked, but I must say thank you ever so much for the classy kiss goodnight.

Total Number of Dates: 1

Fail Scale: 7

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2) Will

Lowdown: Slightly rotund, slightly insane uber rich 26 year old who hails from a snooty, wealthy town in New England. Seemed visibly put out when he found out I drove a Honda Civic. Claimed to be a field agent for the government (rolls eyes).

The Look: Popped collar, designer label, casual frat attack look. The icing on the cake was the pair of beat up Sketchers he was wearing.

First Date: He took me to his favorite local bar for a drink or two. Kind of boring, but hey, it sufficed.

Oh (*#& Moment: When he immediately went into a tirade about the last 3 girls he took out and how he was confused as to why they never returned his phone calls. Ever. At this point I'm staring at the exit as beads of sweat begin to bead on my forehead.

Oh @)($ Moment #2: When the bill came, he did the "slow reach for his wallet" thing and seemed visibly put out when I held my gaze and didn't reach for my purse. After perusing our bill, he plopped the receipt down and half sighed as he signed his name and included a tip. The total was $20, and yes, I'm sure he wanted me to see the grand total. T-A-C-K-Y.

Oh (*#@ Moment #3: As I'm practically running to get away from him, he comments on the blizzard swirling around us and asks if he can bum a ride home, despite the fact that a bus could have picked him up outside the bar, and despite the fact that he lived 5 BLOCKS AWAY. Are you kidding me?

Oh *@&#! Moment #4: As I drove him home he made a quip about work and then casually mentioned my then company's name- despite the fact that I NEVER TOLD HIM the name. Holy. crap. Government man doing background checks on me?! He then tried to stick his tongue down my throat. WOOF.

Total Number of Dates: 1

Fail Scale: Definite 10

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3) The Enigma

Lowdown: 26 year old pretty boy from the suburbs, and kind of a male diva. DJs at downtown Chicago clubs, plays semi-pro football, is captain of a paintball team, never could admit when he was wrong, never could stop talking about himself, trained in the Navy Seals, and had one of the shortest fuses out of anyone I've ever met.

The Look: Metrosexual to the extreme, with a very "L.A." look. Always wore designer clothing, and no less than 5 pieces of jewelry at all times. Pretty sure he got his eyebrows done, and if a piece of hair was out of place he would flip out and become moody. He had more pieces of real designer clothes and accessories than I could ever hope to acquire in a lifetime. Let's just say that when his cats decided to use his $2,000 pair of Dolce shoes as a scratching post, I had to hear about it. For hours.

First Date: Drinks at the Signature Room Lounge at the top of the John Hancock building in Chicago. He paid, and acted like a gentleman. He scored big points during the beginning of our courtship- $300 dinners, taught me all about sushi, took me to movies, made me delicious home cooked meals, took me to meet all of his best friends, had me come watch him DJ, etc. It was during this time that I tried to push aside the fact that, well, he was just too METRO for me.

Oh @!*@ Moment: The time he called me at work, borderline hysterical and in a literal rage. He happened to look down while typing in his cubicle and realized that he was wearing a pair of OLIVE GREEN pants and not the GRAY ones that he had wanted to wear that day. The gray pants, Kayleigh, perfectly matched the colors in his tie and perfectly complimented his shoes. And guess what? His day was now RUINED.

Oh #*@! Moment #2: Whenever he had a bad day, he would call me at 5 pm and say, "UGH I had such a shit ass day. I'm going shopping, call you later." Wait, let's rewind the game tape. What? Isn't that MY job? Aren't you supposed to go home, grunt, and watch manly things on TV while guzzling beer when you have a bad day? Come on, sweetie, let me wear the dress in this relationship.

Oh *&#$ Moment #3: He had a credit card to the Juicy Couture store. I would rather set myself on fire and not shower for a week than wear something from that store, let alone set foot in it.

Oh @#$! Moment #4: We were out at a fancy Brazilian steakhouse for an elegant downtown dinner, while the subject of crazy things that happen to people in real life involving horrific accidents, and how people survive them came up. Why we were talking about such macabre things at a refined restaurant is beyond me- we talked on average of 4-6 hours a day so I guess weird stuff is bound to crop up. ANYWAY so my idiot self delves into this intricate and horrifying medical story that I think I read about in the newspaper.

After my 10 minute tirade, The Enigma calmly took a dainty bite of his pork tenderloin, a large sip of wine and commented with a deadpan expression: "Kayleigh...that was the plot of an episode of Grey's Anatomy."

As my face flushed crimson in embarrassment and with realization that hey, wow, he's right and gee, isn't this embarrassing, and um, can I possibly hide behind that giant rack of ribs, another part of me went: "Wait, hang on. Are you really schooling me on Grey's Anatomy episodes?!?"

Total Number of Dates: 15+

Fail Scale: 5

Why the middle of the road 5, you say? Let's just say I ignored his many faults because the man was gorgeous.

_____________________________________

4) Danny

Lowdown: 24 years old, big hot shot from the biggest insurance carrier in the U.S., traveled to places like India, Bangladesh, Ireland, and Japan for work, started his own multimillion dollar charity, collects wine, was his high school quarterback and owns his own home.

The Look: Everyday average looking guy, Italian, tall, with dark hair. Seemed like a man's man and someone who really knew how to relax.

First Date: Dinner at an outdoor cafe where we watched a fireworks show, and then went onto my roof top deck for chit chat and what he perceived would be cuddle time. FALSE.

Oh &@#! Moment: When he asked what my favorite movies were, I responded with "Terminator 2, Blues Brothers, Anchorman, and Nightmare Before Christmas." His response?

Monsters Inc., Finding Nemo, Toy Story, Supertroopers. In that order.

AWKWARD.

Oh !(@* Moment #2: When he took me to a comedy show and got lost THREE TIMES despite me saying "turn left here". He then decided to turn right. Or go straight. Or just do the opposite of what I said. I wanted to barrel roll out of the car into oncoming traffic.

Oh &@#! Moment #3: When in a desperate attempt to make conversation with me (since I was bored out of my mind staring at the ceiling, the floor, the cobwebs, and the doorway) he began asking me repeat questions of things we already had talked about for an hour. I did what any bored, and seemingly trapped female would have done: called him out on it.

Oh &#$@ Moment #4: As he dropped me off after date #2, he commented at how my street was empty. As he began to parallel park his PURPLE SCION, I icily proclaimed that my street was crowded and that it was a shame there weren't any more spaces. He got the message.

Total Number of Dates: 2

Fail Scale: 8

_______________________________

So what did I learn from this past year in dating? It seems that I've dated some really rich, annoying, metrosexual, hot, rude, and boring dudes.

Here's to hoping this next year is better, and that the Fail Scale eventually hits below the "5" mark.

*Disclaimer: A date refers to going out to dinner, a movie, etc. with someone of the opposite sex, with the full understanding that it was indeed a date. This post does not refer to all the other encounters with men within the past year that were the result of drunken shenanigans, sexual tension, or bad decisions.

Take That, Indecent Exposure Guy!

2008-10-14T10:38:00.003-05:00

A few weeks ago I was harassed by a guy who felt the need to expose himself indecently on a major Chicago street during rush hour.

Reading this tiny news snippet from the Chicago Tribune made my entire day:

Man arrested for lewd exposure on Mag Mile

October 14, 2008 at 10:08 AM

An Edison Park man was arrested over the weekend -- the third time since Sept. 1 -- for alleged "lewd exposure" in public places, most recently near Water Tower Park on the Magnificent Mile, CBS-Ch. 2 is reporting.

JUSTICE.

Remember that Time I Lived in a Haunted House? I Do.

2008-10-13T16:13:00.003-05:00

Today as I briefly poked around the blogging world, the latest post by Jenn at Free and Flawed captured my complete attention.

She posed the question of ghosts. Do you believe in them? Have you ever been a part of a haunting?

Her post triggered an onslaught of memories that I had stuffed into the recesses of my mind. Memories that I haven't really examined since spring of 2004 - the time I realized with 100% certainty that I was living in a haunted house.

To all you non-believers and skeptics out there- I used to be one of you. In fact, I used to take it one step further- I used to laugh and scoff at my friends who believed in such things. In my mind, there ALWAYS was a rational explanation for otherwise unexplainable phenomena. I fiercely maintained this attitude until IT happened. Four months of sheer terror changed my life.

In the spirit of Halloween, I will be telling the story of my experiences in the haunted house from beginning to end. No details left unsaid, and more importantly, I will not make anything up. Everything I write will be a real account of what my roommates and I went through.

I haven't decided when I will start penning out this tale. It will ultimately be broken down into snippets, making it part of a small series. Either way it needs to be shared. It's time to start writing about it.

So, gentle readers.....to be continued.

The Day Tide-To-Go Pens Saved My Life

2008-10-10T12:32:00.011-05:00

Saturday, October 4th, 2008- 10 pm CST

"I have big news....you better pour yourself another glass of wine and sit down."

She hesitated; the hand that had been hastily drying dishes at a rapid speed suddenly slowed to a crawl.

My mother's eyes flickered with fear.

"What, are you engaged? Because you wouldn't get engaged without telling me first, right? Who is the guy? Are you engaged? You're engaged, aren't you?!"

I hastily assured her that no, I'm not engaged, because usually having a boyfriend would have to come first. She visibly relaxed at that statement, but tensed up again when she realized that she still had no idea as to what "news" meant.

A half-empty bottle of red wine beckoned to me from the bar counter, and as I poured myself another glass and retreated to the family room, I could hear my mom fumbling about the kitchen.

My aunt and uncle, who were both in on my secret, smiled at me encouragingly from the couch as I nestled down on one of my mom's custom made white high-backed chairs.

My father, perched in his broken in leather recliner, looked up from his newspaper and frowned slightly as his brow furrowed. He could sense that he would not like what I was about to say.

My mom poured herself another glass of Kendall Jackson and bounded into the family room, joining our awkward party. She sat up at the edge of the couch and looked at me with eyes the size of moons.

All four of the other people in the room stared at me with various looks. My mother's was tense and visibly shaken; my aunt and uncle's- warm and supportive; my father's stern and unyielding.

"Let me guess....you got a scholarship for graduate school!"

"...No, mom. I wish..."

My dad remained silent. As I took another huge gulp of red liquid courage, my aunt burst out:

"Actually, everyone, Kayleigh's pregnant!!!!!!!!"

As my mom's face fell in shock, my dad's newspaper actually fell, and my aunt began howling with laughter, I chose to laugh INTO the wine glass as I tried to take that fateful sip, which caused wine to go, well, everywhere.

Red wine stung my senses and blurred my vision. When I reopened my eyes, I was greeted with a crime scene.

Immediately I zoned in on the crisp white armrests of my chair. The intricate custom made fabric was littered with what looked like blood spatter. The custom hand-sewn one of a kind pillow that was resting next to my lap? Coated in crimson catastrophe.

I was also wearing a cashmere uber expensive creme colored sweater- that belonged to my mother. I looked down at my chest and cursed when I realized I looked like a murder victim.

The house flew into an uproar.

My mom lunged towards me in what seemed like slow motion. She grabbed my arm and wrenched me out of her beloved chair that cost the equivalent of half a year's worth of tuition to a private high school. She then dragged me into the kitchen.

At this point, I began babbling my apologies and began running helplessly in circles like a nettled hornet around my aunt and mother, who were rambling incoherently about what the next step should be.

My dad and uncle remained unfazed, and began chatting politics amongst themselves as if nothing had happened as the women scrambled around in a flurry of chaos.

Unfortunately for all of us, I had purposefully ensured that everyone in the house drank their weight in booze that night, in preparation for doling out my "news". I wanted everyone merry, and loose and a goose. This did not play well when three slightly drunk adults needed to figure out how to save the life of a beloved piece of furniture.

My aunt suddenly ran into the guest bedroom and pulled three Tide-to-Go pens out of her suitcase. All three of us began scrubbing feverishly; three adults coloring like Kindergartners.

There's nothing like potentially ruining your mother's prized piece of furniture AND favorite sweater right before you are about to drop a figurative "bomb" on her.

I decided to change out of my demolished sweater, leave the wine in the kitchen, and regroup in the family room.

As the fresh stains began to dry, my mom regained her composure. She then tried to guess my secret once again, but this time around it was asked in a flat voice.

"Let me guess," she quipped dryly. "You're going on vacation."

I looked up meekly and nodded. I no longer wanted to even talk about it.

"Well? Where are you going?" my dad asked in a crisp no-nonsense voice.

"...Asia?" I squeaked.

Silence. And then...

"WHEN?! Where? How?" my parents roared.

"Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam...for a few weeks...December into January...a travel group...Angkor Wat, jungles, beaches, elephant rides, orchid farms....I already paid...I'm sorry?" was all I could muster as my mom clenched her jaw and tightened her grip around her wine glass. Timing was never my thing.

I focused my attention on the now fading stains on the armrest and wished I could disappear. How could I make them understand? How could I put it into words how important this was to me?

Then suddenly my mom broke into a smile. A smile because she knows, in her heart, that I am doing everything that she never did for herself when she was my age. A smile for me, despite that:

my mom + prized white chair + coveted white sweater + red wine spills = owned.

My father turned on the TV to deflect all human interaction and grunted a response in my direction. I knew we'd have to talk about it later.

The next morning I woke up to the sound of my mom's voice saying, "Good morning, my Thailand Girl! Breakfast time!" and the scent of home-made apple cinnamon french toast wafting through the air. I smiled into my pillow.

Freaky Friday: The Kayleigh List

2008-10-03T16:12:00.004-05:00

So I'm inspired by fellow bloggers who have regular weekly segments. Because of this, I came up with a ~~lame~~ awesome segment of my own.

It's no secret that I like the internetz. Therefore, I found it only natural to glean the wackiest articles from the world wide web to share with you all.

If you guys think this is really uncool, let me know and I'll think of something else. However? Some of these are EPIC. After reading some of these I seriously question the future of the human race.

Before I get to the good stuff, I wanted to share with you a Chicago mass transit tale. This morning as I rode my express train to work, I could barely keep my eyes open. This is nothing new. I tried to read the newspaper, and as all the words started to swim together, a random dude suddenly became animate and started screaming in people's faces about how excited he was for the weekend. An entire section of people literally visibly recoiled in horror as this dude started swaying from side to side, all while yelling about how much he enjoys grill cheese sammiches on Saturdays.

Once I arrived at work, a co-worker jumped into the elevator with me and asked if I saw the "guy who was hammered on the train". That's right- drunk as a skunk before 9 am! God bless it.
OK on to the linky links.

Jet Blue Follies: When Pilots and Stewards Attack

2 JETBLUE pilots charged for beating cabbie over $9 fare...

Passenger: JETBLUE Attendant Sexually Harassed Me...

Sexually Charged Ridiculousness:

Blank Shot- Man Turns Gun on Self After Girlfriend Refuses Sex

New Levi's Ad Campaign Raises Eyebrows: 'Unbutton Your Beast'... (this one gets a picture)

On the ball: Introducing the world's first testicle cookbook

Scientists reveal why having an affair could be the death of you - especially if you do it standing up

Great personality = ugly as sin: The dating dictionary that teaches lonely hearts how to read between the lines

Celebrity Insanity:

Celebs' airbrushing exposed ( click on portfolio) (This is great- see before and after airbrush pictures for celebs like Lindsay Lohan and Halle Berry. Ladies, your self esteem will skyrocket!)

Sharon Stone 'wanted to get her adopted son's feet injected with Botox'

Teenage Blues:

I had plastic surgery for my school prom (I wish this was made up)

And with that, have a wonderful weekend, everyone!

I Put the Ass in Class -- Tales from a Wedding Weekend

2008-09-23T13:35:00.014-05:00

So I went to a wedding this weekend. Usually weddings are occasions where you find yourself all weepy eyed, nostalgic, and excited for the newly married couple.

While I felt all of those things at one point or another, I embraced the facts from the very beginning:

That the wedding was going to be a shitshow. My friends, in accordance to my usual life, it was.

The wedding proved to be the first among my group of core college buds. Admittedly there was a ton of scandal surrounding this wedding, and as I mentioned in a previous post I was hell-bent on discussing it with all of you.

However, after watching them walk down the aisle and commit to one another, I decided that it would be in poor taste and just plain wrong to delve into all of the issues surrounding their relationship.

Instead, I would like to turn the spotlight onto me and my friends, and fill you in on our ridiculously hilarious weekend.

Saturday, September 20, 2008:

8:45 a.m.: Hungover as shit. Stumble into the hotel bathroom and in a semi-delirious stupor manage to pull on appropriate clothes to eat breakfast in. Gather The Athlete and Martise (my two roomies) and hit the breakfast buffet where I manage to down 4 coffees in a row.

11:30 a.m.: Start driving to the church. Thank God for the invention of the Garmin Nuvi, as I have no idea where the hell I am.

12:30 p.m.: Arrive at the church. ONE HOUR LATER. Have you ever driven a car in 90 degree weather that long, while you are so hung over that you are not really sure if you might crash your car? Yeah.

12:32 p.m.: Congregate in the church parking lot with A, who is sitting in her car removing her nail polish and chugging Diet Coke as she is also incredibly hung over.

12:33 p.m.: As I reach into her car to steady myself and paw at her can of DC, I realize that A and I are WEARING THE SAME OUTFIT. Think two different black dresses with a pink shawl. AWESOME. We literally looked like wanna-be bridesmaids.

1:00 p.m.: Ceremony begins. I begin to feel like the air is being sucked out of the room. As I stand, sit, and kneel my way to celebrating the couple’s union, I feel as if the room is closing in and I am going to pass out. CLASS ACT. Pretty sure pure vodka was coming out of my pores as well.

2:15 p.m: Drive through McDonald’s to get a ginormous water in a last ditch effort to cure my case of “The Shakes”.

3:40 p.m.: Pass out

5:15 p.m.: Get picked up by Shuttle Bus to go to the reception.

6:00-9:00 p.m.: Eat a ton of food, drink a lot, still have the shakes, and get sweaty on the dance floor.

10:00-10:50 p.m.: Do two Kamikaze shots with the bartender and a group of my friends. Whoa, I am hammered.

11:00 p.m.: Everyone goes outside and waits to go back to the hotel via the Shuttle Bus.

11:10 p.m.: Joe decides to jump onto the Shuttle Bus and start dancing.

*Here is Joe as he's jumping off. My camera phone kind of crapped out on this one.*

11:11 p.m.: Elderly wedding guest informs our group that she just called the police.

11:12 p.m.: Shit, the cops?? Everyone jumps into the van.

11:14 p.m.: I drunkenly demand that our driver takes us to a liquor store. He counters with “Give me $20 bucks”. Shit.

11:45 p.m.: The hotel informs us that all wedding guests should take their carousing to the hotel library. Hotel library? There were many leather bound books and it smelled like rich mahagoney. Plus there was a big screen TV, and a table for flippy cup. YES!

11:50 p.m.: Give my debit card to my friends with a $50 credit limit blessing. They hoof it to the nearest liquor store.

Sunday, September 21, 2008:

12:10 a.m.: Friends arrive carrying cases of PBR. When I inquire why all the PBR, they inform me that I had in fact demanded it. Oh, right.

12:15 a.m.: Dude who looks like he's in his mid-50's asks me if he can have a few beers because he "really wanted to get his wife drunk so she'd sleep with him" and that it's "been awhile". I did what anyone else would have done- sold him 3 cans for $5. WIN.

12:15-1:25 a.m.: Drink lots and lots of PBR. See the new bride walking through the hotel lobby and drunkenly tell her how beautiful she was; like 40 times in a row.

1:28 a.m.: Another wedding party staying in the hotel comes and crashes our party in the library. They DON’T bring their own beer. A dude wearing a kilt and the rest of his tuxedo tries to take one of the cases away from me. Kayleigh does not like this.

1:30 a.m.: Notice that all of the men from the other wedding party are not wearing pants. Well, except for the guy in the kilt.

1:40 a.m.: Start getting hit on by one of the strange men from the other wedding group. He tells me I have the most mesmerizing beautiful brown eyes, I ask him what the hell he does for a living. Because I’m a huge bitch like that.

1:55-3:15 a.m.: Me and Wedding Dude graphically make out in the courtyard, in the hall, in the library (Colonel Mustard, with the wrench), on the stairs, on the benches, and in the lobby.

3:30-4:15 a.m.: Simultaneously want to punch Wedding Dude and all of his friends in the face, as they repeatedly point at me and exclaim “You keep making out with our friend Wedding Dude!” to which I’d reply “Very good! You DO have eyes!” Also begin to get uber annoyed as Wedding Dude is hell-bent on taking me back to his digs for sexy time. Or my digs, if that’s what would make me feel more comfortable (rolls eyes).

4:45 a.m.: Declare that I’m going to sleep. Wedding Dude starts to follow me, begging to “just sleep next to me and that he won’t even try anything.” I decide that I’m sick of his damn whining, so I acquiesce.

5:00 a.m.: Discover that the room key in my hand isn’t right. Too drunk to understand what to do next. Wedding Dude is very apprehensive at my side.

5:01 a.m.: A comes miraculously tearing around the corner, and takes my key card and disappears. I stand at my door step dumbfounded.

5:05 a.m.: A comes back, hands me my new key card, and says goodnight. I am still dumb founded and full of extreme feelings of gratefulness.

5:06 a.m.: Crack open my door to the rumbling sounds of Martise’s snores, along with his body moving up and down under the covers. Wedding Dude looks in cautiously. I inform him that my friend will kick his ass if he wakes up (Ed. note: false)and finds him in our room. Wedding Dude informs me that he doesn’t care, he still wants to take the chance.

5:07 a.m.: I slam the door in Wedding Dude’s face and lock it. I hear his muffled whimpers on the other side of the door, and howl with laughter. Martise does not wake up.

5:25 a.m: Brush my teeth, wash my face, and put on my PJ pants in the bathroom. As I reach for my tee shirt, it slips from my fingers and falls in the toilet.

5:26 a.m.: Fish my only shirt out of the toilet water and fling it into the shower. What the hell else was I supposed to do? Decide to fall asleep half naked. My male friend sleeping in the other bed would just HAVE to deal.

8:00-8:20 a.m.: The Front Desk calls on repeat. Martise finally answers. He is informed that there is an “unidentified female” passed out right outside our hotel room door, and that if she belongs in our room she needs to get in there stat.

8:21 a.m.: Martise opens the door, and takes a picture of this unknown chick passed out on the ground. Who could pass that up?

8:35 a.m.: The paramedics come to scoop this girl off of the floor. When they wake her up, she insists that she “didn’t know what happened” and that she “didn’t even drink that much.” Senorita, you were woken up by a team of paramedics on a hotel hallway floor. Save it.

8:45 a.m.: Martise wakes me up. I am still drunk, and my answers come out in choppy sentences. I am informed that everyone is meeting for breakfast in 15 minutes, and that my presence was required.

8:50 a.m.: Martise hands me one of his tee shirts, and I go to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. Disaster. There was no time to brush my hair, put on makeup, or look like a human being. I wore light blue PJ pants with flowers on them and an oversize tee shirt down to breakfast. In public.

9:00 a.m.: As I walked to the breakfast buffet, I rested my head against the hallway wall as I walked. Picture that in your head. I couldn’t even walk straight.

9:20 a.m.: Stare longingly at the pile of greasy bacon in one of the buffet bins, and reach for the tongs. That’s when I realize that Kilt Boy from the night before was standing two feet away from me on my right.

9:21 a.m.: Kilt Boy yells out in a deep booming voice “Hey, aren’t you the one who made out with my friend Wedding Dude last night?” he then turned to a table of his comrades (sans WD) and yelled for further reassurance “Hey guys! This IS the girl that was making out with Wedding Dude all last night!!”

9:22 a.m.: I put down the bacon tongs, and turned to face the dining room. All the busboys, waiters, and breakfast patrons were staring right at me in shocked silence. I put my hand in the air and declared “That’s right everyone- I DID make out with Wedding Dude last night. And I want to personally thank you, Kilt Boy, for owning me before 10 a.m. on a Sunday morning. Thank you.”

He then stared at me intently, completely missing all social cues to SHUT THE F UP, and screams “Yeah, weren’t you wearing that same pink shawl thing as that other girl, and wasn’t your hair all curly, and…”

“Congratulations you DO possess a short term memory. Are you done yet?”

9:25-10:20 a.m.: Eat with friends, rehash the hilarity from the night before, and laugh at me for getting owned while still in my pajamas, hungover at breakfast. Hangover is getting worse, feeling of intoxication slightly subsides.

10:25 a.m.: Get up to leave, and see Kilt Boy coming at me again from across the room. “HEY!” he screamed, “Do you have Wedding Dude’s number? Do you want it? Huh?” Everyone looks again.

Not my life.

10:30 a.m.: Pack up all the stuff in my room, and throw it will nilly (who says that?) into my suitcase. It was then that I realized that I only packed up the bare essentials: stilettos, multiple bottles of vodka, pink shawls, and pajama pants. I then picked my still soaking wet shirt out of the shower and threw it into my bag with the rest of my stuff.

11:35 a.m.: Made it back to Chi-city in one piece.

Monday, September 22, 2008:

I have a little too much fun at work with the picture of the random girl who passed out:

Tuesday, September 23, 2008:

My hangover finally broke. God bless America.

Freaky Friday: The Public Indecency Edition

2008-09-19T18:52:00.007-05:00

It's been a long day.

As I came out of the subway and began my 10 block walk home, my mind clouded with thoughts on the wedding I'm attending tomorrow, my urgent need for Diet Coke, Prada heels, and how much Grad school is going to cost. I didn't know that I would soon stumble across a scene that would sear itself into my memory banks.

In fact, even though I am currently safe in my apartment, I can still see the disturbing scene burning behind my eyelids.

One of my guy friends from college coined a phrase for me that embodies my usual everyday life: "Kayleigh- creepiness just seems to follow you everywhere, doesn't it?"

Yes, Adam, it does.

As I rounded a corner and started strolling up a major Chicago street at peak rush hour tonight, I noticed I was quickly approaching a hovering pack of men who were lollygagging on the upcoming sidewalk. This in itself is a typical Chicago scene.

These individuals were sitting on a park bench, giggling, loving life. My eyes drifted over them as I approached, thinking nothing of it. Only when I was within 10 feet of this middle aged group of loiterers did I realize that wait a minute- that tiny dude has his fly open and WTF, he's exposing himself to people walking by.

Mind you, this realization is overtaking me just as I'm about parallel to this cackling group, who think that this display by one of their delinquent brethren is hysterical.

I shuffled by the madmen, who were celebrating this Exhibitionist's Friday night choice with loud laughter and taunting catcalls for all walking by. Yes- at 6:15 p.m. I saw some random, scary dude's junk. I want to cry just typing it.

It was total harassment. I don't even have to say how horrified and upset I was by it- I'm sure y'all get the picture.

The kicker?

Not even two blocks away from this scene sat a Chicago police car, with two cops inside. They were parked at the side of an intersection, and when I walked by their car I could see that they were both playing SCRATCH OFF LOTTERY tickets. Both of them. As a man two blocks away flashed his junk to the world, these two idiots sat with their quarters and scratched off lotto tickets while sucking down on Slurpees. Isn't it great when stereotypes come to life?

To make matters worse, I was then almost run over by no less than ten 14 year old kids on skateboards who decided that riding on sidewalks is a good idea.

It's not even 7 p.m. yet.

Sigh.

I'll be back with scandalous wedding tales come Sunday, but just to tide you over until then, I've decided to post one picture of the Derek Zoolander-like A&F model that I went to a high school dance with. Did I mention that he was a [straight] male cheerleader in college? Yeah...here's a picture of him in his cheerleading uniform. Please ignore my horrible Paint job, and the fact that I airbrushed his eyes out and he now looks like Cyclops from X-Men.

Have a great weekend, kids! More tales of scandal and ridiculousness when I return.

The Red Stilettos

2008-09-17T09:11:00.005-05:00

Since I've had numerous inquiries about my Red Stilettos, I thought it would be best to just post a picture of them here.

So here you are, gentle readers. I humbly present to you the shoes that make men run a muck, women to stop and stare, and sexual deviance ensue:

And although I swear that this blog isn't all about relationships, sexual misconduct, and general mischief, I have several posts lined up that reflect recent dating follies, an upcoming wedding teeming with scandal, and the fact that I just found pictures of someone I went to Homecoming with (Ed.note: circa 2000) modeling in an Abercrombie & Fitch catalogue and posing shirtless in one of their stores, looking like Derek Zoolander(choice photos which I will share with you).

I'm sure you can't wait.

I'm Looking At You, Kid

2008-09-10T21:45:00.013-05:00

After such an overwhelming response to my last post, I want to thank each and every one of you. Big shout out to all my regulars (love you guys), occasional curious kittens, and people who introduced themselves to me for the first time. I squealed with excitement, not gonna lie. And I was super excited about all the comments about champagne, brunch, reality TV, and basic love of procrastination. I want to snuggle on the couch in my PJ's with y'all, while we watch reruns of the Britney Spears meltdown, accidentally kick the empty champagne bottles off of the coffee table with our feet, and munch on toast, bacon, and scrambled egg sandwiches.

I also wanted to give a special mention to the people of Canada. I didn't realize that so many of my neighbors to the north visit here so often! Who would have thought, eh? (Couldn't resist, hehe).

Every one's comments were fascinating- I had introductions, a cameo by Christin Bale, promises to get drunk with me, a declaration of love, questions, praise, and more. I was absolutely delighted!

And because I'm a freak and apparently have NO time on my hands (false) I decided to respond to you all individually. And link to you. Because I'm real personal like that.

As they would say in Mean Girls: "Love Yas! *double palm to mouth kiss in rapid succession*

P.S. You might have to click on your individual grouping to read my responses clearly. Without further adieu-

-Fort Knocks, Katelin, Deb on the Rocks, Emrlds, Mandy:

-Alexa, Heather, Lauren, Luthy:

-Natalie, 16 Paws, 2pts, RS27:

-Paula, Joy, Maxie, Sophia:

-Miss Burb, firstday, Bayjb, Elle Michelle:

-Kyla Bea, Angela, pj, Princess Pointful:

-Lori, Nicole Antoinette, Chele, Sandy:

-Brandy, Ang*, Princess Hippopotamus, OI:

-Steph, SO@24, Douchegirl, Single, Jennifer:

-Erin, and Joy @ BTF (times dos):

HOLY CRAP I'm exhausted. Not complaining. I'm just sayin'.

Coming up next: When Dating Goes Wrong: Keep Your Hands to Yourself, Your Eyes on the Road, and Your Tongue Out of My Mouth.

I Seeeee Yoouuuu

2008-08-28T17:10:00.005-05:00

Hi, there. I wanted to take this time to say thanks for reading, whether this is the first time you've stumbled across my site or the tenth. I love you all.

I'm curious as to who you are. No, no- don't turn around and look at the person sitting behind you. I'm looking at you, kid.

So if you're a reg, part time, or new visitor I'd like to hear from you!

It's De-Lurk time. Please leave me a comment and tell me a fun fact about yourself, or feel free to ask me a question/say anything on your mind. I'll leave it up to you. But all that I ask is that if you're reading this right now, say something in the comment section.

So, hi, residents of Australia, Thailand, UK, Italy, Turkey, Canada, Germany, and the United States! You seem to come here the most. And for all the countries I didn't mention? I'd love to get to know you, too.

I won't bite. However I am likely to show up at your house with a bottle of champagne (or two....or five) when you're half asleep and/or hung over and insist on getting sloppy over brunch and reality TV shows.

OK hopefully that didn't scare you away. Now go ahead and comment/question/regale me with your awesomeness. And I may or may not write down the names of all commenters and pick your name out of a hat for an alcoholic (or comparable) prize, to be announced at a later date.

xo,

Kayleigh

Why I'm Going Straight to Hell: A Homewrecking Tale

2008-08-26T14:59:00.004-05:00

I spent a large portion of last week going to White Sox games for work where I sat like a princess (I’m the only girl on my work team) and indulged in a lot of free beer and hot dogs courtesy of my male co-workers. I also managed to get hit on by a guy at a local beach after one of these games who after 1.5 Fat Tires informed me that he steals pairs of sunglasses from 7-11 because they are “too expensive”. Imagine my delight and joy when a minute later he pulled out a hitter and began smoking weed right then and there belly up on his beach towel, blowing noxious smoke towards a set of palm trees and a group of rowdy teenagers tackling each other in a hormonal bout of insecurity.

Good thing I’ve been spending a lot of time hanging out with my buddy L.A. Fitness, Inc. because otherwise running on beach sand would have been kind of tough.

However, let’s cut to the chase. Ladies and gentlemen, I think it’s about time for me to delve into the Homewrecking story.

One of my girlfriends from high school, Lo, invited me to a double birthday party at a particularly notorious bar near DePaul University’s Lincoln Park campus. Since I hadn’t seen Lo in literally two years, I acquiesced, and even expressed glee at visiting said location. There was one hitch- her ex was going to be there, and she needed me to diffuse the awkwardness and distract her so she could drown her emotions in a martini glass. That was all it took to fully convince me. I was in.

Lo showed up a few hours early to my apartment, where we put on some “going out” music and proceeded to down an entire bottle of champagne while sitting demurely on my living room couch. I was wearing my Fire Engine Red shiny stilettos, and a strappy low cut dress. The shoes should have been my first indicator that the night might end in sexual deviance. Whenever (and I mean whenever) I wear “The Red Shoes” something extremely inappropriate happens. The notoriety of said Red Shoes is well known with my girlfriends and other lucky individuals.

We rolled up to the bar and I started in on my already buzzing state of mind with a Cosmo. Plastic down on the bar, yes sir, please open a tab for me kind of a night. Lo scanned the room nervously and proceeded to down a Malibu and pineapple while honing in on her ex and narrowing her eyes into silts. I had every intention of being social and meeting new people, but purely in a non-attention getting, NORMAL kind of way. Lo knew just about everyone in the bar, since they all went to college with her, and dragged me around the room for introductions all while avoiding the burning stare of her ex.

It was only when I was introduced to both birthday boys that I felt the wind go out of me. One of the guys, Matt, was absolutely gorgeous. As he shook my hand and threw me an adorable heart melting smile, I felt my hands get that oh-so-clammy feeling and my fingertips slid down my martini glass in a smear of love sweat.

A tall, perky blond stood in a sentinel-like position behind him, casually chatting with a dark brunette. You know the stance- far away enough to say that she wasn’t cramping his style, but close enough to literally reach out and reign him in if need be. Lo noticed me looking at Matt as he retreated, and mentioned that he and his girlfriend, Dana, were a cute couple.

“Oh, darn,” was all I could really muster as I watched Dana flounce around the room as she clutched Matt’s arm and laughed.

Since all the good guys in Chicago are always taken, I accepted my defeat and started drinking heavily. Soon I was chatting with Dana herself at a bar table, dancing with Lo, and slinging back shots with Matt’s 21 year old sister. Life was good.

As I tucked back my fourth Cosmo and wiped off the remains of two Jager bombs off of my lips, I pushed the tables away and began getting down on the dance floor with Lo to classics such as Freaknasty’s “Da Dip” and Puff Daddy’s “Can’t Nobody Hold Me Down”. I was having an absolute blast. It was then that I noticed that Dana had disappeared and was nowhere to be found. Matt, however, was tearing up the dance floor, eyes wild, with fresh Red Bull stains on his polo shirt. Classy situation.

Imagine my shock when I feel a pair of arms sneak around me from behind as I’m dancing with Lo, and notice that someone is gyrating all over my back. Cue surprise when I turned around and realized that it was Matt, in all his drunken birthday glory. I began dancing with him, but kept my distance and incorporated a lot of twirls and spins into our dance routine, which is something I do with men if I’m nervous or don’t really want to be physically close to the person. In this case, I had to deal with a myriad of unsettled eyes compliments of all of Matt’s friends, who cautiously looked on to make sure that our dancing didn’t take a turn into Inappropriate Land. Lo kept shooting me looks as if to say “What the hell? Don’t take it too far” and I let my eyes tell the story of my innocence as I twirled myself away from Matt’s eager arms.

Suddenly Matt tried to kiss me. And at that moment while I pushed him away for the tenth time I thought to myself “You can either make the right choice and walk away now, or you could willingly and openly do what’s wrong and have some fun”. You can guess which idea won out.

Once I made that decision, I enjoyed kissing Matt’s neck slowly and sultrily as we danced and when all of his friends weren’t looking. It was fun to drive him absolutely wild. Finally he pressed me up against the wall of the bar and tried to kiss me again but this time everyone was looking so I kept playing dumb and pushed him away while whispering naughty things in his ear. The instant chemistry between us was utterly explosive.

By closing time, Matt was about to have a meltdown. He grabbed my arm in the chaos of the bartender’s yelling, and people drunkenly stumbling outside, and pulled me around the corner and feverishly kissed me like I was the last girl on earth. Not gonna lie, it was really hot. He then began to beg for me to go home with him. I told him that I wasn’t going anywhere without Lo, and since she was spending the night at my house, he had to get her permission first. Hos before bros, you know?

Since Matt is Lo’s bff, she readily agreed. So the three of us started walking across the street to Matt’s condo, and one of his work buddies seized the opportunity of the girl to guy ratio and ran across the street to catch up.

Once in his condo Matt kept the lights off and began graphically making out with me the moment Lo and Random Dude stepped out onto the balcony for a 3 a.m. breather. It then led to his bedroom, where I then knew I was past the point of playing dumb with Lo.

Before you assume that I rounded the bases, tuck those dirty thoughts back in your pants. I kept it strictly PG-13. But a very hot/borderline “R-Rated” PG-13.

Around 4:45 a.m., Lo texted me from the family room asking if I wanted to leave. I immediately replied YES. Matt however? He didn’t like this idea, and clung to me as he rolled on top of me in a desperate attempt to re-stimulate the makeouts.

As much as I love ze makeouts, now was not the time. The only thing in my mind was “how the hell am I going to sneak out of this kid’s condo”? I knew then and there that I had to pull out an ancient college sneak-out trick. I had to put Matt to sleep.

So there I was, fending off a kissing onslaught, and the “Oh baby baby’s”. I knew this wasn’t going to be an easy task. Immediately I asked him if he liked spooning. When he said yes I flipped him on his side, threw my arm over his stomach, and began lightly kissing his hair as I softly trailed circles into his back.

Sixty seconds later we had a winner. I then got up, tossed a sheet onto his naked body, and tip toed out of there. I got home around 5:45 just in time to see the sun start to peek over the horizon.

I of course made sure to send a rather unsettling text to Matt for him to enjoy when he woke up and realized the full extent of his indiscretions. I also may or may not have laughed. I am evil.

The entire evening was a total win because thanks to me playing it all innocent in the early start of the night, Lo wasn’t upset with me for getting it on with her bff. She remembered seeing me push him off, and said that it wasn’t my fault and I did all that I could initially.

I love it. And as for Matt and Dana? As of last week, Splitsville had a population of 2.

I think I’m going to leave the Red Stilettos in my closet for awhile.

Why Does My Life Revolve Around Alcohol?

2008-08-13T10:15:00.013-05:00

I know I owe you all a story about my homewrecking exploit that was fueled by Cosmos and Jager bombs, but first things first. Is anyone else as obsessed with the Olympic Games as I am? Did anyone see the agonizing defeat of Team USA in women’s gymnastics last night? Or Michael Phelps become the most decorated Olympian of all-time? I am currently running on what I like to call an “Olympic high”. This is aided by the fact that I just drank a cup of extra bold (oooo, daring) black coffee and the caffeine high is making me loopy.

As always, there are many things I want to share with you. I enjoy penning out little snippets, and since everyone enjoys lists, here we go:

-This past weekend, after spending literally 24 hours in the Brussels International Airport, my little (and only) brother came back from Europe after spending six weeks studying abroad in Granada, Spain, and visiting Gibraltar, Morocco, The Netherlands, Lithuania, and Belgium. Cue intense jealousy here. Many beers were had, trust.

-Going to my FIRST Cubs game (for work mind you), and drinking a lot of Mai Tai’s which resulted in me being mildly toasted in front of all my bosses and co-workers. I was also lucky enough to see a balled up pair of women’s pink panties lying on the floor of my stall whilst in the bathroom at Wrigley Field. Chicago Cubs, your fans are WILD, baby.

-Meeting one of my female co-workers named Rylie at a bar post-Cubs game and drunkenly asking her, "Oh, are you just being Rylie?" after she danced around to a song. Let's just say she wasn't pleased.

-Drinking BOXED wine in my parent’s kitchen with said P-rents , amigas, brother, and brother’s friends on a Sunday night which resulted in my judgment being so impaired that I was unable to drive home to my apartment. Binge drinking= not just for college students anymore (you heard?).

-Watching my mom accidently drop a bottle of Vueve Cliquot Yellow Label which promptly shattered into oblivion on my kitchen floor. Somehow post cleanup I still managed to step on a microscopic piece of glass late last night and it is now currently wedged in my big toe. I tried to get it out but to no avail, so I am limping today.

-The Enigma (some of my long-time readers will know who I speak of) has started texting/emailing me nonstop. We haven’t really talked since we stopped seeing each other in May, and all of a sudden, BAM! There he is, all up in my face. If he wasn’t so damn cute I wouldn’t have bothered responding, but hey, I’m getting my flirt on in an “I’m acting like I don’t care about you and, surprise, I really don’t, but it’s fun to play with your emotions anyway” kind of way.

-My office didn’t have air conditioning or RUNNING WATER for all of Monday and Tuesday. This translated into me having to walk two blocks to Barnes and Noble whenever I had to use the restroom, and me absolutely sweating in my sweltering hot and humid office. We have 40 feet tall floor to ceiling windows that cannot open. NOT PRETTY. However? This translated into me getting treated to yummy iced tea by my boss at the Argo Tea across the street both days where we proceeded to sit and waste time for almost an hour just to have the chance to sit in a temperate atmosphere. The crap I deal with, I swear! *Update*: our CEO just dropped by and attempted to pay us off in the form of a Panera gift certificate. It worked.

-Decided that I’m applying for graduate school starting in November for a dual MBA/MSIMC degree. Am I Nervous? Um, yes.

-Got a free ride on the Metra train on Monday because the train ticket guy must have had the hots for me.

-I’m looking forward to getting out of work at noon on Friday and watching the Chicago Air & Water Show on my rooftop.

-My friends and I will be hosting the 3rd annual Slip and Slide extravaganza bonanza at my parent's casa this coming weekend. Think buckets of margaritas, tunes, beer bongs, 50+ feet of tarp/slip and slide, burgers, ice cream sundae bar, me falling down by 10 p.m., and tons of friends eating a homemade breakfast courtesy of my mom the next day.

-I just put down a deposit for a trip that will take me to Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam in December/January including New Years Eve. I absolutely hate New Years Eve and cannot think of a better way to spend it than being in an exotic foreign country. Think Bangkok, riding elephants in the jungle, Angkor Wat, Siagon, etc. So, hi Chele- maybe we can get together when I'm in Bangkok? :) I hinted about this trip to my parents and they are basically furious with me because they want me to save my money, but they also know that I’ll end up doing what I want anyway. I feel like this is the time in my life to make stupid and on-a-whim travel decisions. I've been know to do this sort of thing from time to time. Whenever I settle down, I doubt I’ll have the same opportunities. So carpe diem, people!

-I received an absolutely wonderful Pay-It-Forward gift from the lovely Heidi Renee, which included Mexican chocolate, Burt's Bees gear, jelly beans, and a handy-dandy mini journal. I need to get my act together but I swear I will host my own PIF. (You heard it here, folks -- aka pressure me into submission if too much time goes by).

-The wonderful Maxie of "I Hate So Much" and Jess of "Everyday Adventures of Me in the City" gave me blog awards this past week. *Takes a bow* THANK YOU ladies!!!

Homewrecking story up next. Promise.

HOLY $#@&: How I Survived the Chicago Tornadoes of 2008

2008-08-04T23:12:00.005-05:00

I should have known something bad was headed my way when I forgot my umbrella on my way to work and was greeted by a downpour of epic proportions that made me show up to work looking like I jumped in a pool. Because of that, I was sopping wet for half of the day.

Things cleared up during the day, and somehow the morning deluge was nearly forgotten.

Around 8:00 p.m. my TV began broadcasting news of tornadoes rapidly approaching the area at speeds of around 60 mph. I scoffed at my television and turned the volume up, despite casting a wary glance towards the windows just in time to see black clouds moving quickly across the horizon.

Suddenly half the sky was jet black, and lightening began flashing so quickly and from every direction that I thought bombs were being detonated. I later found out from a newscaster that lightening was pummeling the area with 15 flashes/strikes PER SECOND. Whoa.

So there I am watching Shallow Hal (I know...terrible) when the TV cuts out yet again and the mechanical robotic voice informs me that everyone within the city limits should take shelter immediately and get away from windows. I've lived in this area my entire life and have weathered through plenty of tornadoes. But that usually means scampering into a basement and hiding out for awhile. This was a new challenge.

I have never faced a tornado while living on the 17th floor of a downtown mid-level high rise, with un-obstructed views west, south, and east over the lake. I stood in my window frames paralyzed with fear and doubt as I wondered if I should really start to worry about the storm.

"Tornadoes can't hit the city" I thought to myself. "I'll be just fine up here."

Then I heard the sirens.

Never in my 5 years of living in Chicago have I heard tornado sirens go off. I didn't think they even COULD go off in Chicago. I thought is was a myth, like the Loch Ness Monster or Lindsay Lohan's rehab success.

I shut off my TV and wrenched open a window. Yup, sirens. Going off in downtown Chicago. I froze. The lightening struck all around me, illuminating the sky and reaching out like fingers towards the spires of buildings down my block. Instantly the hail dumped down from the sky, and as I looked out of the living room windows I witnessed PIECES OF BUILDINGS being wrenched from their respected places and swirl in a tornadic (I may have just made that word up) cloud in front of my face.

Let's recap:

1) Sky jet black
2) hail
3) Sideways rain
4) Pieces of buildings flying through the air
5) thunder so loud it my windows shook
6) lightening so frenetic and frequent that it seemed like God was throwing a strobe light rave
7) howling wind
8) sirens going off

Let's just say it was time to get the &^$@ out of there. I rarely panic in these situations, but it was so bad that I was dead convinced that my windows were about to blow in. I grabbed some pj pants and a tee shirt (yes, I was sitting around in my underwear), put on my flip flops, grabbed my keys and phone, and bolted for my life.

As I ran down the hallway I must have screamed the "F" word no less than 15 times in a row before I got to the stairwell. (Ed. note: If you thought I was about to take the elevator you're absolutely insane).

I called my friend A who lives within walking distance and when she answered I screamed, "GET DOWN GET DOWN! RUN NOW!!!!" and she basically dropped the phone, ran to her lobby, and hit the deck.

As I ran down 17 flights of stairs to get to the lobby I was on the verge of hysteria and my hands were shaking.

I reached the lobby where my building's pajama clad residents opted to huddle around Jason, my punk rock+combat boot wearing doorman, as if he were the key to our salvation. We watched in near silence at the weather outside the two main glass doors and listened to the tornado sirens go off intermittently for the better portion of an hour.

It was then that I looked down and realized that my pj choice was pretty poor. I was wearing what I lovingly refer to as my "Rex-Kuan-Doe pants" which are long legged pants from Old Navy that are a replica of the American Flag. Think Rex the Taekwando instructor in "Napoleon Dynamite". Yeah. Not the kind of thing you want anyone in see you wearing, let alone in public. What can I say, I love collecting guys' clothing.

Back to the story.

So I stood there humiliated by my clothing choice, listening to sirens and watching the storm absolutely pummel my beloved city.

After it was safe to return to my room, the following TRUE FACTS came to light:

1) 70 mph winds hit one neighborhood north of where I live

2) A chaise lounge chair from the 21st floor of my building (the rooftop) BLEW OVER THE SIDE and fell down past people's windows to the ground. It is nearly midnight and the storm is once again in full force (I wish I had a video camera...I cannot even begin to describe the fear I have in my heart and what I am physically witnessing outside my window). We don't know where the chair landed because no one can go outside. Hopefully it didn't fall on someone.

3) The famous John Hancock Building is two streets over from my apartment, and it is confirmed that at least one window on the 40th floor blew out from the wind/storms impact. Think about that. It was bad.

4) A mile or so out on the lake there were 100 mph winds. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that grounds for a hurricane? I know a hurricane didn't occur, but I believe that wind speed is typical in a storm of that magnitude.

So now I'm back in my apartment, alone, scared out of my f-ing mind at the shitstorm of agony raging outside my window. They said the storms and the worst of things were over, but once again, we were lied to. The rain is coming down so hard that I cannot discern the outlines of buildings outside my window. The lightening is so bad I keep thinking that I'm going to be struck dead inside my apartment. I have my window cracked so I can hear the sirens if they go off for the 8th time tonight.

I thought I was going to go to bed at 8:45 p.m. Yeah, right. What a joke.

Firetruck and ambulance sirens have pierced the night on repeat since 8:15 p.m., coupled with tornado sirens and deafening thunder.

And NOW I'm supposed to go to sleep? What. a. nightmare.

I don't know about y'all, but I'm going to be clutching my pillows and staring at the ceiling from underneath a mountain of blankets. I don't even care that it's like 80 degrees outside. I'm in survival mode. Start saying prayers now.

Coming Soon: How the events of the past weekend have cemented my title as a Homewrecker.

Apparently I Really Enjoy Being "That Girl"

2008-07-23T12:38:00.010-05:00

Last weekend while my brother was in Morocco riding camels, eating cous cous, and gawking at Arabian palaces along the Med. coast, I got stupidly drunk in Chicago and made an ass out of myself in public.

Life is unfair.

I attended an event titled "The World's Largest Block Party" (the validity of this claim TBD) in the west Chicago loop. The police shut down a few streets, and allowed everyone over the age of 21 to absolutely run amok. This event has a renown reputation as a huge singles/hook up situation, so I was more than a bit interested from the get-go.

So the streets were blocked off, tons of people were playing bags (or "cornhole" to some of you), eating BBQ, and drunk Karoke-ing on a side stage (that had a live band to boot...so much fun).

Your $35 entrance fee got you 5 drink tickets (to use for beer or wine) and the opportunity to see Train perform live.

My friends and I figured that the $35 for 5 drinks coupled with drunken mingling with other people sounded like a great plan.

The problems began when we met "The Wine Guys". Wine Guys consisted of four brothers of various ages who were doling out the wine and taking drink tickets from extremely intoxicated patrons. Let's just say that Wine Guys took an immediate interest in my girlfriends and I, which lead to many instances of "Oh no, keep your ticket. This one is on us". Thanks, sweet cheeks.

Around 9 p.m. I had to physically remove one of my girlfriends from the venue after finding her rambling, sweating, and walking around by herself drunk as a skunk. I walked her past about 30 of Chicago's finest, only to have them APPLAUD as my friend flung herself face down into the backseat of a cab. It only got more ridiculous from there on out.

Train starting playing soon after, and when "Meet Virginia" came on I decided that despite getting 3 glasses of wine for free, I needed to use the rest of my tickets. I grabbed my cup and my friend's and headed out to the beer garden to hit up my favorite men for drinks.

I suddenly became sidetracked by the presence of the bathroom, and somehow lost the cups and my sense of need for booze.

When I arrived back at the concert, my friends looked at me and asked what happened to both cups and the booze. I looked down at my empty hands and honestly had no f-ing clue what I did with them. Classy.

Well Train ended (don't really remember that since I was having way too much fun playing with free glo-sticks) and I guess the girls decided to round up the Wine Guys to see if they wanted to go out for drinks (aka get even more intoxicated and possibly make bad decisions).

Needless to say they acquiesced, and before I could even realize what was going on, John linked arms with me and we began leading the drunken crowd in procession to a local dive bar.

I had no idea how long we walked, or where we were. I was totally sloshy. We sat down in the bar at a huge table, and each guy was paired up with one girl for conversation and drinks. Should have been the setting for a totally normal, fun, sassy time. But of course someone had to ruin it.

Of course that someone was me.

I'm guessing it took all of 10 minutes before John and I started graphically making out AT THE TABLE. Did I mention that this young lad is 21? Yeah. And I'm 24. Let that sink in. I'm a predator.

You could not even begin to imagine the threatening looks I began to get from his 30 year old brother in one corner, who literally verbally threatened to basically kick my ass "if I hurt his little brother." Of course this was all said with a sickly sweet smile. Mind you this was all an absolute haze to me, but in my drunken state I began uttering "Are you threatening me? Really?" at loud decibels.

John, or Young One, constantly looked at me with doting puppy dog eyes, and on occasion would whisper in my ear, "Do you want to um, maybe go outside?" So we would, and it was raining, and my back was pressed up against the brick wall of the bar, making out so hard I thought my face was going to fall off. I might have been asleep at the time, that's how drunk I was.

Young One and I would then return to the table and promptly begin making out again. For hours. We took breaks to stare into each others eyes and for me to hand feed him chips and salsa as if he were a baby bird. What the heck is wrong with me.

I really don't like younger guys, but since a lot of older men I've dated have ended up being childish anyway, I guess it's a wash in my book. And I wish I could say this has been the only 21 year old in this calendar year, but it hasn't. Yerg. Am I a cougar in training? Wait, don't answer that.

So countless chips and salsa, vodka tonics, make outs, and shots later, the bar was closing down and the rain was coming down hard.

I didn't know this at the time, but the guys shelled out a few HUNDRED DOLLARS to pay for our food and drinks. When I am this intox, I tend to run away without saying goodbye, and I started to run for the door.

The guys followed us outside as I flagged down a cab with lightning speed.

Young One looked at me with the big puppy eyes, "But wait! Can't I at least get your number?"

I stopped in my tracks. Hopefully I didn't roll my eyes.

After giving him the digits, we hopped in the cab just as the guys asked us where we were going. One of my friends then told them MY ADDRESS.

As we sped off, I began rambling that I didn't want all those dudes coming to the apartmento. So what did we do? The classic female "shake off". We needed to kill some time in case they decided to swing by my homestead. So what did we do?

We went to Rock and Roll McDonald's.

If you live in Chicago or have visited, you probs know about the Rock and Roll McD's. Even if you HATE McDonald's, you will love this one. It's beyond amazing. I'll save my ranting and undying love for this place for another day.

We ended up getting food to go and hanging around and drunkenly mingling with the 3 a.m. bar crowd in hopes that the boys were then nowhere near my place.

It worked. We got home around 3:30 with no Wine Guys in sight. I wonder how angry they were when they got to my place only to have my doorman who looks like Wolverine tell them to go away? Eeek.

Imagine my delight when I received an email from one of my ladies this morning with two pictures of me making out with Young One at the bar. Awe-some. I love photographic reminders of my lusciousness, especially when I am sober.

This was right after I tried to open a can of pop at work whilst walking back to my desk and dropped it on the floor. My co-workers looked up as I yelled "SHIIIIIT!!!" at a volume that is not to be used in the workplace. There's nothing more fun then getting saucy pictures that I didn't know existed and then cleaning the floor on my hands and knees within the same 10 minute period.

My life? http://www.didthatreallyhappentome.com/