Butt what?

“You can get a good look at a t-bone steak by sticking your head up a bulls butt, but I would rather take the butcher’s word for it.” Tommy Boy

I have seen a lot of butt in my life. Usually it is more bad than good. After my morning train ride (see Homeless butt) I felt this was a fitting tribute to all of the butt in my life.

Good butt

Butt steak – Butt steak is something my friend F and I discovered at the Three Farthings bar. Picture it: Chicago, 10pm on a Friday night. F and I just left an okay display of the Chicago theater scene. All we wanted was a light bite to eat and a glass of wine in an environment that would be conducive to conversation. We ended up at the restaurant portion of the Three Farthings. F, who is admittedly NOT a foodie asks me, a semi-foodie, (but not Semi-Homemade!) “What is Butt steak?” Three tequila shots and ½ a butt steak later, F and I were very pleased with our new discovery. The only thing I know about butt steak is that it is damn good.

*clarification* F and I split the steak, but I did the 3 shots.

Sir Mix-a-lot butt – Though you wouldn’t know if by looking at us, my sister and I can recite every word of Sir Mix-a-lot’s Baby Got Back (aka Big Butts). It is true. I am not sure how it happened, but it did. “Oh My God, Beck. Look at her butt. It is so big…” just tempt me – I will do the whole thing…

Bad butt

Old lady butt –The most dreaded aspect of working out at a YMCA, or my gym, is the possibility of locker-room old lady butt. This is when you are silently and discreetly changing into your workout clothes and out comes naked old lady, fresh from her post-workout shower. She has no shame and has, apparently, earned her right to be naked in a public locker-room. Of course her locker is next to yours so you get a full view of her old lady butt as she searches the bottom of her locker for her unmentionables.

Homeless butt – After writing the piece about the CTA only a short day ago, my senses were rudely awaken this morning as I stepped onto the train. Before 7am, I was confronted with homeless butt. A man had sprawled out over four seats. He was sleeping on his stomach and his pants had come down to expose full on butt. Once I had identified exactly what I was looking at. I made my way in the opposite direction and found myself a seat. It is just another day in the big city, right?

My only words of advice would be to be careful out there – “Excuses are like butts; everybody has one and they all stink!”

Train, train, go away.

I love the CTA! Really, I do.

I love stepping into the dirtiest, smallest train station; paying just more than I would at Starbucks for my usual (venti, with room, earl grey, one bag, no honey), trek up the stairs and miss the train by seconds; then stand around in the beating sun (though it is only 7:20am) and squeeze myself on the next, already packed, train. I love it! Really, I do.

I have always thought there was something romantic about trains. I think initially the cross-country, turn of the century (20th, not 21st), Hogwarts-esq trains are what caught my eye, but those trains don't go to the loop. Everyday I imagine giving my case to the porter, when really my bag is laying on the grimy CTA floor. I fool myself into hearing “Cattle have strayed onto the tracks and now some farmhands are trying to shuffle them off. " When actually it is the, “The train has stopped momentarly, waiting for signal clearance ahead," recording.

On the train I can read my book, or sleep, or daydream, or talk obnoxiously on my cell phone; but so can everyone else - that is the beauty of public transportation. The CTA is a communal experience. You may not know your neighbor, you only weakly smile at them going to the laundry room; but you are instant friends the when the brown line takes the curve over North Ave a bit fast. When the two of you step into the train car and the bouquet of odors enters both byour noses, you are two peas in the same stinky pod.

You do not have the opportunity to create these relationships sitting at a stop light. When driving, you isolate yourself from the experience of society functioning as a unit. And though there are days when I crave to jump in a car, peel out onto a boulevard and do a quick three point turn, they are few and far between. I will always plead for the train to come again another day.

AK

chillin' without veggin'

I have been in my new apartment for over a week now. I have my clothes all put away and my dished neatly stored. I have even bought that fancy new automatic shower cleaner. I am pretty sure it goes against my efforts to have "zero-impact" on the environment, but boy do I love the prospect of not having to clean my shower ever again! The only thing I have not settled into is my television.

I have the same TV that I, alone, balanced on top of our full-size refrigerator in that TINY freshman dorm room over seven years ago. VCR included in the TV; approximately 24x24 in size. It works, and the way I have my new apartment set up; I can watch TV from the bed, the kitchen, and the bathroom hallway. (can you say studio)

And I love TV, but I love crappy TV most of all. I used to fall asleep to Comedy Central, at 2am switch to TBS, then wake up and click to CNN. (I miss Soladad O'Brien) But since I have moved, I have not watched any TV. I have no cable, no local channels, not even one of the four PBS stations Chicago carries. What will I do without Antique Roadshow?

Of course I have my limited collection of DVD and VHS. Drop Dead Gorgeous and Harry Potter are getting considerably more play than they would have under normal circumstances. NPR is also getting a lot of play. And in an odd way - I prefer it.

Listen to the NPR allows me to multi-task in a way that is not capable while watching TV. Right now, I am eating dinner; listening to a great Chicago NPR program 848; and writing in my blog. I am catching up on current events without having to listen to an old white male news talking-head chit-chat with a young, attractive female talking-head.

I am chillin' without veggin'. Is that possible, or have I just rationalized another potentially lazy expression.

So, will I get cable? I compromised today and increased my Netflix order to two-at-a-time. Will I be able to replace my compulsion for crappy TV with NPR and documentaries from Netflix? I hope so, but at what cost? Will I now have nothing to say in the kitchen when other co-workers gather? Or, will I finally have something to say because I didn't spend the night before engulfed in Super Nanny.

And as my sister reminded me, I can always watch reruns on the Internet...

AK

Today I blog; tomorrow I die

So, after many months of contemplating the possible repercussions of blogging, I have decided to go for it. If it means I will have to defend, deny, or delete this blog before I am employable again, so be it.

But what will I write about? What is interesting in my life besides my endless bitching of the CTA? I will start, but please tell me what you want from me.