Attn. All My Chicago Peeps

So, I have a question, Chicago People, does the following ring true to you at all?

Chicago is known as the Windy City. And Chicago can be pretty windy. Picture: it's January and you're walking amongst the skyscrapers downtown. Those tall, elegantly substantial buildings protect you from the bitter, biting wind if you hug close to them. But one building will give way to the next and and as you make your way across the corridors between them, a wind tunnel can strike. Wind tunnels focus the wind so that as you cross them, the wind might blow off your hat, knock you off your feet. But, if you are a Chicagoan, as you brave that wind tunnel with frozen snot on the inside of your scarf and sensation in your feet a distant memory, you'll grab your hat before it flies away, chuckle and think "It's only a certain kind of person tough enough for this. In Chicago, we filter out the weak. Chicago is so awesome."

This brings me to the real reason why Chicago is called the Windy City; because despite those January days, Chicago isn't really all that windy. Cleveland, I'm told, is way windier. And while there are various theories as to how the moniker came into being, there's one I believe because it sounds so much like Chicago. It was coined by the editor of the New York Sun in the late 19th century to refer to the Chicago habit of rabid boosterism. To his point: even the truly terrible Chicago weather serves as a point of pride for a Chicagoan.

Only denizens of the wider Philadelphia area are more vociferously proud of their hometown. And whence this proud spirit of noisy boosterism? Much of it stems from a genuine recognition of all the things that are wonderful about Chicago, the amazing architecture and theater, the sports teams, the brusque affability of its people, the sparkling lakefront. Yet there is one shameful, unspoken reason Chicagoans boast so much: it's often just so much whistling in the dark to cover up the younger sibling inferiority complex we have with New York.

Damn Y'All

Did you see Rachel last night? She was on fire.

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Coupla Things

So, I have this long commute to work and sometimes Laney and I chat (these days mostly about what things AREN'T FAIR). Other times we play various alphabet-related games. And sometimes we sit silently seething over the soul-crushing waste of time that a 45 minute commute is (it could be that only one of us if silently seething). But under any circumstance, whenever I see this car:




I feel like I've been transported to some third world banana republic and the recently deposed dictator of the military junta is sitting in the backseat wearing fatigues and wraparound aviators. Is that just me?

Also, two more chapters of Brooke, if you're interested (pw is brooke!123 )

America?

So, I'm a liberal which means I hate America. Duh. So, I'm having a hard time figuring out what to make of these two things:

Thing One: Frederic Mitterand, the culture minister of France who vociferously defended child rapist Roman Polanski, wrote a memoir in which he tells us:

I got into the habit of paying for boys....All these rituals of the market for youths, the slave market excited me enormously... the abundance of very attractive and immediately available young boys put me in a state of desire. (h/t Paul F)

Thing Two: In Australia, they think performing in black face is HILARIOUS!

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Seriously, if i'm going to carry on being an America-hating liberal, the rest of the world is going to have to stop being so so so creepy!

Pardon My Head Exploding

It's just been a weird few weeks. First there was this view of idealized (crazy photoshopped) womanhood:


And then there was this (hahahahalightenupit'sjustajokecakes)"



And how about Don Draper being voted the most influential man of 2009 on a poll by askmen.com?

On the political front, the NRCC is distributing literature waxing rhapsodic about how badass general McChrystal can put Nancy Pelosi "in her place." I bet they're disappointed that Don Draper can't put Nancy Pelosi in her place.. he'd be good at it. Then again, Nancy Pelosi is so old and gross! Speaking of which...

How about this article about Ten Hollywood Actresses who are "past their expiration dates"?

And then my head exploded. And I thought I am raising a daughter in a world where she will be viewed as no more than the sum of her parts by a substantial portion of the people she'll walk the earth with. In a world where braying jackasses somehow wield enough corporate, media power to put boob-to-waist ratio at the top of the general female wish list.

And then I picked up the pieces and remembered that there are lots and lots of really good men out there. I'm married to one. And we're raising a daughter with a focus on finding a place outside the vast sea of corporate, media-driven sexist shittiness out there. If we do our jobs right, she'll grow up understanding that her function in life is not to fit into some pat, played out definition of what a woman should be and instead just be the person she wants to be.

That is if she can avoid the kind of crap thrown at her from magazines and television.

Sigh.

Morning Commute Conversations

This morning we returned to a familiar topic: how much way more totally awesome it is to be me than it is to be Laney.

Laney: It's not fair. You get to do so much more stuff than I do!
Me: Like what?
Laney: You get to drink Miller Lite.
Me : I think you may be overestimating the value of Miller Lite.
Laney: But it's still not fair you can do so much more than me!
Me: You can put both of your feet behind your head. I can't do that.
Laney: Maybe I can do more actions, but you can have more permissions.
Me: Don't you think that's a fair exchange?
Laney: How do I get the mucus inside me?
Me: I really don't want to talk about mucus this morning.

I really think the ease with which we segue from putting your feet behind your head to mucus is really indicative of just how long our morning commute is. Also, Miller Lite? We're really not much of a Miller Lite household. It's not like Don comes home from work and says "Hey, baby, got a Miller Lite for me?" I don't even think there's Miller Lite in the fridge. Whence came the Miller Lite comment? I can only surmise that she's been watching football with Daddy.

Now, had she bemoaned not being allowed wine...

Brooke - Chapter 5

If you're interested, you can get it here.

PW- brooke!123