i ate dinner in the field museum on saturday night. the gala was a gorgeous affair, but the only problem i had with the set-up was that, while enjoying my meal, i was forced to look straight into the ass of an elephant. lucky for me, i've endured worse without killing my appetite.

there was a ten piece orchestra, which was pretty neat, and of course the requisite open bar. most of the field museum was open for our perusal, but we concentrated mostly on drinking on the main floor rather than checking out the exhibits. really, they could have held the gala at a regular old banquet hall, and it would have been just as cool. the only problem i really had with the set-up was that the food was served "buffet style," which inevitably meant long lines. the other "only problem" that i had with it was the huge clusterfuck at the end of the night when we herded out the front doors. this was aggravated further by how drunk and tired i was.

we spent the night in a hotel on michigan avenue, where the cheese and i proceeded to argue for about an hour before finally trying to sleep. i hope it's normal for a betrothed couple to fight like that less than three months before getting married. i suppose that's what we should have expected- i would turn into a bitch, and chris would turn into a pain in my ass. isn't that what happens to every couple?

i think that must be the quickest way to turn a great relationship into one peppered with arguments. i'm not talking about going to the field museum and staying at a hotel. i'm talking about wedding planning. holy christ, i hope this is the most stressful thing we ever have to go through. if not, i fear we're in great trouble.

but i suppose an occasional fight is healthy for the mind and soul. at least that's what my fortune cookie said this morning. don't ask why i was eating chinese food for breakfast.

jackie in a dress. i took a picture.

i'm going to a gala tomorrow. i think this is the first official gala i've ever attended, and, in honor of the occasion, i looked up the word gala.


1. A festive occasion, especially a lavish social event or entertainment.
2. (Chiefly British.) An athletic competition, especially a swimming contest.

swimming contest? those chiefly british people sure do know how to take what could potentially be a great time (lavish social event or entertainment) and turn it into something positively horrific. i can't imagine a worse fate than having to participate in a swimming contest. i can swim, but my skill set is poor to fair at best. like, i manage not to drown, but i thrash like a conscious body in a body bag trying desperately to break free out of my burlap coffin and somehow, some way, get the heck out of the hudson river. don't tell me you haven't been there, done that before.

in high school, i managed to convince my swim teachers that i had my period 14 out of every 28 days. and the other 14 days, i'd convince my mother i couldn't go to school because i thought a tumor might be growing inside my knee caps, and i needed to stay in bed to make sure it didn't get any bigger. swimming class was a freaking nightmare. here is a detailed list of why i hated it:

1. poor to fair swimmer. remember?
2. looked like a twelve year old boy in my swimsuit, compared to all the busty bimbos in my particular class.
3. didn't like bathing cap.
4. the smell of chlorine made me want to vomit.
5. heard awful rumors of boys pooping in pool.
6. didn't like changing in front of other girls.
7. was not good at toweling myself off (due to anxiety of changing in front of others) and would therefore walk around the rest of the day with wet jeans and ultra wet socks.
8. couldn't see without my contact lenses, couldn't wear contact lenses in pool, goggles clearly not an option, was functionally blind for 45 minutes.

if i ever have a child who is being forced to take a swimming class, i will move hell (and high water) to make sure they don't have to take that class. i will steal doctor pads from the doctor office, set the school on fire, whatever it takes. because unless you get to consume maximum amounts of alcohol while wearing a fancy dress, galas are just plan awful.

lately, i've been feeling like the talking heads' song "psycho killer" was written solely about me. except for the parts of the song that are apparently in french, i can really identify with some of the lyrics, especially that first verse.

i can't seem to face up to the facts
i'm tense and nervous and i can't relax
i can't sleep cause my bed's on my fire
don't touch me, i'm a real live wire

it's all this wedding planning. i'm sorry this is quickly degrading into a wedding blog, but that's what's top of mind these days. i do have to say that i am very blessed to have the kind of friends that i do, though. yesterday i went over to my friend patti's house and she made my veil for me. she just made it, like that, using her own materials and supplies. and it's freaking gorgeous. thank you, patti, for saving me a hundred bucks. patti has also made a list of all the other things she wants to help me with, including the following:

altering my dress
creating bridesmaid jewelry
designing programs (although i told her tara had first bid)
table place cards
guest favors
burning a cd of "wedding songs" for the dj
letting me use her envelope gift box

on top of all that, she wants me to use her car for the day since it's a purple car and my wedding color is purple. i had to refuse that one, obviously, for insurance reasons, but i'll be damned if i didn't consider it for a second. then she's letting me borrow her undergarment for the skirt part of my wedding dress, which will make the skirt fuller, she burned me a copy of microsoft publisher, and, as if i wasn't already deeply indebted to her, she sent me home with half a tray of brownies.

how did i get so freaking lucky to meet so many people so willing to help me? it must be my charisma, and the fact that i'm willing to sleep with just about anyone.

everything's starting to hit the fan. i've been running around like a headless animal (you pick the genus and species) and yesterday, after i got home, it was nice to have a relaxing saturday night with the cheese. we made dinner together (tortellini in alfredo sauce with crab and mushrooms), shared a bottle of wine, and watched four episodes of "quantum leap." i'm really on a "quantum leap" kick these days. of course, i'm a sucker for time travel shows. when "sliders" was on tv, i was a sucker for interdimensional travel. i'm still searching for a way to do either; it would be nice to have an excuse not to go to work.

update:

chris got upset about the part where i said i'm willing to sleep with just about anyone- to which i responded, "but that's how we met!"

i have been very busy, and i think i'm only going to get busier. i can't wait until this wedding is over- then i'm going to party like it's some year ending in a nine.

we booked our honeymoon. we're taking a cruise to mexico and the caribbean, and the travel agent got me all worked up over getting a passport. i suppose i should get one eventually, but i'm too tired right now to be adding things to my "to do" list.

on top of wedding stuff, i'm taking on extra night hours at the second job. this was clearly a big mistake, but only time will tell exactly how big of a mistake. tomorrow is my first night shift, and, all told, it's going to be a 14 hour work day between the two jobs. then, saturday i'm going to my friend patti's house to do "wedding stuff," which should be both fun and stressful, and then i have to prepare for the huge work gala for next week. by prepare, i mean i have to go out and get those sticky fake boobies for my new dress. i should never have purchased a dress that requires sticky fake boobies, but i'm going to need sticky fake boobies for my wedding dress anyways, so i might as well test them out with all of my work peers watching. does anybody know the proper names for those things? i'd hate to walk into a store and have to use the words "sticky fake boobies" with a sales associate. also, i've got an appointment with cassie's mom this thursday to discuss flowers, and, cassie, if you're reading this, please warn your mother that i am a nutcase and somewhat liable to bite her neck if the price is too high.

oh, god, i can't wait until this is all over. i'm going to be one relaxed girl. hopefully the next big thing in my life will be something fun, like a winning lotto ticket, as opposed to something else equally stressful, such as the purchase of a home i can't afford or the birth of a baby that i can't afford. not to mention, i wouldn't even know how to raise a baby. which end do you change and which end do you kiss? i keep forgetting.

i hope i wake up tomorrow and it's the middle of may and i only have one job and nothing else to do but drink and shop.

i didn't know what polenta was, but it sounded fancy. i looked it up and found out it's cornmeal mush. suddenly, i feel like the butt of everyone's joke. this reminds me of the time i found out florentine was just a nice way of saying spinach.

things we did during the pre-cana

1. learned way too much about a married couple's infertility problems. kept wishing to not hear the words "in vitro" again.
2. wrote love letters to each other that will be mailed a few days before the wedding. assumed we'd still be together by that time and not living in different states due to wedding squabbles.
3. listened to couples share about their relationship. compared them to ourselves using a system of checks and tallies.
4. consumed part of a muffin, five grapes, two pineapple wedges, one sweet roll, one banana, five slices of pizza, three breadsticks, one bottle of juice, one bottle of water, one cup of soda, one cup of coffee, two plastic cups of champagne, and five cigarettes. between the two of us.
5. played the kinds of games where nobody loses. felt sad about not being able to kick some ass.
6. took six quizzes, cheating only on two.
7. shook a lot of hands.
8. dropped jaw at united states divorce rates, but felt smug about catholic divorce rates.
9. shared about our relationship, tried not to sound stupid.
10. did drawing exercise that went horribly awry.
11. struggled to keep eyes open.
12. found out where to get help in case of domestic abuse, bulemia, cancer, depression, AIDS, identity theft.
13. answered two close ended questions, fifteen open ended questions.
14. got free candle.
15. said prayer; went on to win forty bucks at poker last night.

tomorrow, chris and i are going to the church for our pre-cana. according to greg at work, the six hours that await us in the basement of the church are going to be "wrought with emotion." since greg's the kind of guy who's usually wrought with beer, i don't know exactly what i'm supposed to believe here- but i can't imagine the catholic church is going to make this easy.

i told chris tonight that, in preparation for tomorrow, we should "get our stories straight." we're going up against not only a jury of our peers, but also god and jesus. we have to make sure we don't contradict one another. like, if i lie and say that quiet prayer time brings us closer together as a couple, then chris can't butt in and say, "the only quiet prayer time we've ever had is when jackie says goddammit softly under her breath." i can't look bad here. apparently, though, chris took great offense to the phrase "get our stories straight." he looked at me like i had a set of horns and a britney spears cd. "what do you mean, get our stories straight?"

"i mean, what's the deal here? what are we telling these people about our relationship? how much are we agreeing to disclose?" i tapped my foot impatiently, but chris didn't answer. instead, he mumbled something about postponing some kind of ceremony, but i wasn't listening since i was suddenly captivated by aimee mann's rendition of "the scientist" pouring out of my computer. now there's a woman that's really won my heart.

anyhow, i'm a little nervous about tomorrow. first of all, although i believe in god, i'm not a very religious girl. second of all, i don't especially like catholic people, despite having been raised in a catholic family. what's up with all of the rules, for crying out loud? no meat on fridays, no birth control, no gay sex. these people should really let their hair down a little. also, they should rethink the whole "ccd" thing; those saturday and wednesday classes really cut into my nintendo time.

it's not just the religious aspect, though; it's the whole "emotional purging" thing that's really getting me. as a teenager and a girl in her early twenties, i was all about emotional purging. to a fault. now, i'm over it. i like my feelings to be mostly private, aside from the occasional telling blog entry. my feelings about chris are between me and chris. why does the church have to get involved? why am i even getting married in a church? oh, right. "compromise."

finally, it's the $65.00 fee. i guess this is better than the $300 weekend retreat the priest/ timeshare salesman had tried to sell us on, but it's still $65.00. this is what i could buy with $65.00:

1. approximately nine days worth of groceries.
2. new sneakers to replace my old kenneth coles. god, how i love those shoes, and how i'm so afraid to part with them.
3. quantum leap season three PLUS the new dave barry book PLUS a martini.
4. amtrak train fair to... frankfort, kentucky.

well, we'll see how tomorrow goes. maybe being in a church for the better part of the day will give me luck for poker tomorrow night. jesus likes gambling, right?

again, i'm realizing how fragile life is. last weekend, my sister's friend's boyfriend died, suddenly, when he had an asthma attack and started choking. he died in the bathroom of his apartment and was in there for about twenty minutes until his friends decided to check on him. a twenty-five year old guy walks into a bathroom, and, in under a few minutes, is dead. it's unfathomable. then, this morning, my friend at work tells me that her boyfriend's heart stopped last night. i don't know the whole story, or how he was discovered, but if another minute had gone by before he'd recieved help, he would have been dead. his heart just stopped. i know hearts pump and give us life and eventually, i know hearts have to quit at some point. i know this, but i guess i haven't really digested it. one day this heart inside of me will no longer work. i don't quite believe it.

another thing i don't believe- excuse me while i get off topic- is that, in a few months, i'm going to have the same name as chris' mother. i'm going to mrs. cheese. i know i've blogged about this before, but i still haven't gotten over it. "mrs." is a title for an old woman with three kids. it's for a school teacher or a woman in her forties applying for a home equity loan. what the hell is this? aren't i much too young and vibrant to be a "mrs.?" yikes.

speaking of loans, my customers just pulled in. time to make some magic.

i like it when chris makes dinner; it reminds me that he really is marriage material. last night he made bourbon marinated steaks with a red wine and mushroom sauce and a side of homemade mashed potatoes. nobody can mash potatoes like chris can mash potatoes; i'm in the process of making a t-shirt for him that states as much.

we've been contemplating opening a restaurant. actually, i just made that up. do you know how much work a restaurant would be? we couldn't even handle a dog, for christ's sake. however, we did pass an empty store front yesterday, and chris said, "we should open a business in there."

"what kind of business should we open?" i asked, playing along.

he then proceeded to tell me that he had always wanted to open a business where geeks can come in and play computer games against one another. ignoring the fact that we could never afford umpteen computers (not to mention a lease), i jumped in with, "we could also serve coffee and snacks. what about muffins?"

"muffins have crumbs," chris said. "it would have to be a food without crumbs."

"pizza," i mused, thinking that pizza and coffee are usually a winning combo. "but, wait, pizza is greasy. i don't want to be cleaning grease off of keyboards."

"so, basically, we need a food without crumbs or grease," chris mused. we drove in silence for a few seconds before chris said, "grapes. we'll serve grapes. no crumbs or grease!"

"grapes?" i repeated, imagining your average, overweight gamer geek sitting at a computer with a cup of coffee and a handful of grapes. "pure genius."

it was decided. "games and grapes" would be winning business awards from all over the area. well done, chris. well done.

i guess i'm taking requests now.

ferozan, my ziti party went beautifully. i do have pictures, but in the interest of protecting the privacy of others, i will not be posting them. i basically did nothing in the way of preparing dinner; mikey took over making the ziti and garlic bread, god bless that young boy, and jessie made the salad. we drank, we played win, lose, or draw (my team won, chris' team lost, and everyone else just drew), and then we busted out the karaoke. later in the night, we busted out the scrabble set, but by then i was much to drunk to spell words- although i was able to slap "ziti" down on double word score. it brought the whole night together in a neat little package.

i'm glad we had the dinner party. it's not usually something i would do, but everyone had a lot of fun. or at least that's what they said; i've never been good at telling whether or not somebody is lying to my face. the next day, sunday, i was pretty hungover all day. after cleaning up, i locked myself in the computer room, made a makeshift recliner out of two computer chairs and some pillows, and popped a dvd into my computer. why didn't i just use the tv, you ask? because sunday is freaking football day. thanks a lot, men of the world.

well, i finally got around to nailing down my new year's resolutions. there is nothing i love more than making resolutions i can't keep, so, in the grand spirit of setting myself up for failure, here is the official list:

1. stop going to work dressed like a slob. make it a point to iron my wrinkled shirts and take time to actually co-ordinate my outfits so i don't look like a hobo with a desk. stop going to work with wet hair tied back into a sloppy ponytail. buy more pants that fit properly.

2. get published in something, other than the daily herald. make real effort to work on series of david sedaris inspired essays (working title: me talk naked one day).

3. after the cash black hole that is my wedding, continue to save money as to one day afford the nicer things in life. save at least five hundred dollars per month. get chris to open roth ira. contribute another percentage point to my 401k. convince elderly sick man to put me on all of his accounts as sole beneficiary.

4. go out more. stop turning down invitations because i'm "too tired," "too broke," or "too drunk." make genuine effort to see friends more. buy their love with baked goods. or, since i don't bake, buy their love with spare batteries from my junk drawer. test all the batteries first to make sure they work.

5. be healthier. at some point start doing healthy things. stop doing unhealthy things. drink strange juices from new age wackos.

6. create elaborate filing system for pay stubs, tax forms, insurance forms, all bank accounts, and anything else of importance, including but not limited to good pasta recipes. stop fumbling around like a blind one armed man with a headache whenever i need to retrieve important info. organize desk at work, as well. throw out all packets of oatmeal in my top drawer. it's just plain embarrassing.

7. stop slouching. it's unattractive.

i've really set myself up for disaster tonight. originally, i was going to make dinner for five people: that's me, the cheese, the cheese's sister jessie, and our good friends tara and michael. tara, for those of you who don't know, has already made my "soulmate" list despite having hung out with her under a dozen times. then, i decided, if i'm going to invite jessie, i may as well invite the cheese's other two siblings, beth and mikey. so i invited beth and mikey, and then, i realized, i couldn't have all these siblings of chris without of course including my own darling sibling. my sis has a significant other, so of course i had to invite the charming mark as well. before i could say "better double the recipe," i realized i was making dinner for a total of nine people. nine people! i had to send chris out to buy a bigger pan.

i'm making baked ziti, the old standby, so it won't be too difficult. i am, however, worried about the logistics of the evening ahead. 1, what if i ruin dinner? 2, i have four chairs and nine guests. 3, it's kind of a rag-tag group of people as well, despite 2/3 of us being related to at least one other person in attendance. 4. i'm going to kill the first person who spills on my rug. because when you have more than six people over, you've pretty much set yourself up for a spill. the odds don't lie. once again, i stand poised to lose my security deposit.

although we basically trashed the first place we lived in and STILL got our security deposit back (minus eight dollars, as if eight dollars was enough for a magic wand to make the place inhabitable once more). so i suppose i still have a fighting chance. if not, i am completely prepared to issue bills for tonight. marcia, i'm looking at you, miss sloppy pants. you're eating in the bathtub tonight.

should be fun, though. we're all raging drunks who like to laugh, so bring it on. tonight, the food will flow like wine. the wine will flow like water. and the water? well, i'm all out of water. better refill the britta.

i am absolutely outraged that chicago is the fattest city in the country. i am outraged because i am a slender 100 lbs, and yet everybody else in and around this city is apparently a big fat slob. people, how could you let this happen? you're making me look bad.

apparently, six out of ten illinoisans are overweight. six out of ten. that's obscene. how could you let yourself go so much? put down that second helping of deep dish pizza, get your fat ass off the couch, and do something to fix this ranking. i'm tired of living in the fattest country in the world. and i'm disgusted that i live in the suburbs of the fattest city in the country. something has to be done; this is a call to anyone out there who has ever had trouble squeezing themselves into a compact car for a reason other than height. i will help you. here's how i've managed to stay so trim:

1. good genes.
2. high metabolism due to a lot of nerves.
3. did you know smoking curbs your appetite?
4. deep knee bends.

alright, i lied about the deep knee bends. thing is, i don't know how i've managed to stay so skinny. but i can tell you what. if i woke up tomorrow fifty pounds overweight, i would change my lifestyle immediately. remember girls, boys won't want to date you if your clothing can double as a tent. and boys, being fat does not automatically make you a big, fun-loving party animal. tv has steered you wrong.

shape up or ship out. i want detroit to be next year's fattest city, because, frankly, i don't like detroit. or st. louis. or anywhere in texas, i'm pretty sure i don't like texas.

chris and i discovered that comcast's ondemand offers karaoke. so after a little mild drinking, we decided to fire that bastard up. immediately after i took this photo, chris got very mad at me.
ain't he adorable, folks?

i'm tired of reading news articles about cats. in particular, i'm tired of hearing about houses that are just chock full of cats, homes with fifty, a hundred, three hundred cats. what's wrong with these people who collect cats like bert collects bottle caps? sure, i understand liking animals. i like animals so much that i once considered getting a goldfish, until i realized what a big responsibility that would be. and, sure, i understand that lonely old ladies need companionship. but, if one cat isn't enough, surely two or three cats would be plenty. even four, while pushing it, is still somewhat understandable.

but eighty cats? a hundred and twenty cats? at one point in the cat lady's life, she must have realized her grave mistake.

the thing that really gets me is that nobody finds out about all of these cats unless something very bad happens. in my extensive research, it's usually a fire. do cats cause fires? do fires cause cats? there must be a connection, but i suppose that's not the point. what is the point is that it's just plain wrong to keep that many animals in one house. there should be a job where a man, or a woman, goes door to door on a random basis to make sure people have an acceptable amount of cats. while they're there, they should also check to make sure that the home doesn't have any faulty electric outlets. because, dammit, something is starting all these fires.

two thousand sick

today was my last day to see my soulmate carole before she shipped back to the island of manhattan, and so i woke up this morning ready to battle hell or high water in order to get down to that southwest suburb in the sky. before hitting her house, i made a stop at to see my dad. he had called me this morning to see how my new year's eve had been; it's always a little embarrassing when your parents hit the town and you have to say, "yeah, i spent my night playing trivial pursuit and watching tv," but i handled it with grace and/or poise. he also called because i had made the mistake of confiding in my mother this week. there are several things i have learned in my 25 years. here are a few of those things.

1. don't blame spilled wine on the dog, because nobody will believe you.
2. never offer to adopt a highway unless you're really up to the challenge.
3. don't confide in your mother, ever.

my mother is, to put it tactfully, a screwball. the thing is, she's not a screwball in a lovable way like i'm a screwball, or lucille ball was a screwball. she's a screwball with a heart encased in ice. i'm sure somewhere in all that ice there's a lukewarm center, much like a piece of medium rare steak, but only time and a good knife will tell. she's insensitive and crude and consistently demonstrates how not to behave in public. she's the kind of mother who crassly tells you that every once in a while she watches soft core porn, and just the other night one of the "actors" that was "doing some girl" reminded her of my uncle. like, how the hell am i supposed to take that?

back to the point, i confided in her all of my wedding fears, mainly the cost and planning of this event. immediately, she tried to talk me out of getting married, citing that it was better to have money in the bank and a dull night on the couch than love and the chance to build a life and family with another person. after a bit, i had the good sense to hang up on her, but not after getting all worked up and having to bum a blood pressure pill off of some old guy at work. of course, she told my dad about the phone call, and he called to talk to me. since i hate talking on the phone, i told him i was coming down anyways and would stop in around one o'clock.

my dad has a good way of reassuring me that everything will work out fine, even in moments when we both know it won't. after having to live with my mother for close to thirty years, he's learned that you have two choices in life: to either relax and try to enjoy things or to spend seventy years to life in the slammer for manslaughter. clearly, he's chosen the former, for which i am forever thankful. so, he tries to reassure me, and he does an okay job. then he goes back to talking about new year's eve. he and my mother went to some big function that included dinner, drinking, a live band, and the chance to wear dress pants. he had a good time, but my mother didn't. after i get over the shock, i have another bowl of soup.

before i leave to go to carole's, my mother comes home. she starts up on new year's eve. she's so upset that they had spent two hundred dollars to go out to this party, and she says she'll never do it again. even though all the elements were there for a fun night, she was miserable about having to part with the two hundred bucks. listening to her lament about this situation, i begin to see the duality in our situations, and i immediately need another blood pressure pill. am i turning into my mother? instead of being happy about this wedding, am i pulling a nancy and instead trying to clutch to my wallet as tightly as possible? i can picture her standing at this party, arms crossed, grimace affixed to face while denying herself of any and all fun. she can't be happy about anything. she can never enjoy anything. she's a cheapskate and a worrywart and a miserable human being, and she's who i'll be in the not too distant future if i don't cut it out. starting now.

i drive to carole's house, and we have a grand day. her mother makes us dinner, and i talk to carole's mom about the wedding. without even meaning to, she makes me feel even better about things. katie, carole's other sister, didn't have a big fancy wedding. she had almost as many guests as i'm going to have, but she did everything very simply. simple flowers. homemade veil. no photographer or limo. christ, she was knocked up and had to plan the wedding in only three months. yet everybody had a grand old time anyways.

and even though i'm not knocked up (at least not to my knowledge, jesus, wouldn't that be a trip?), everybody will have a grand old time at my wedding. it'll be simple. we'll shell out the cash, probably make a good amount of it back, and we'll have this day forever to look back on.

i have to reread this blog entry if i start freaking out again. but right now, i feel calm. or at least as calm as one person can feel with about eight cups of coffee flowing through their blood stream. i know it's bed time, but i think i'm going to put on some stevie wonder and scrub the floors. or maybe just crack open a beer and watch another episode of 'house hunters.'