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September 30, 2004
Invisible Garden
I got off the bus at the corner of North and Stockton last night and noticed that Ben Franklin was surrounded by scaffolding and half-covered with short pieces of text. "When did that happen?" I wondered. Mid-June, it turns out (never let it be said that I'm afraid to be late to the game). The pieces of text were submitted by visitors to a website for the art work -- The Invisible Garden.
Posted by Fuzzy at 4:58 PM
September 25, 2004
Recovery
It's 2 am and I just got back from a waaaaay south side police station.
A month ago Shaun's motorcycle was stolen from out in front of his girlfriend's place down in Wrigleyville. Just this last week he had finally purchased a replacement and had gotten a check from his insurance company on Friday and then today a cop called him to tell him that his bike had been recovered along with a number of other motorcycles. (When Shaun returned the cop's voice mail they went through a laundry list of motorcycle makes -- "So you had a Honda?" No. "A Suzuki?" No. "A Yamaha?" Yes. "Black?" No. "Blue?" Yes. "OK, it's right here.")
They told him if he didn't pick it up right away it'd be transferred to a lot where they'd charge him a daily storage fee. So after I got done with my show tonight and he got back from speaking to senior business students at Purdue (yeah, Shaun was talking to the future leaders of America -- that's a whole 'nother story) we were driving his pickup truck down to the 5th District Police Station to get his motorcycle.
When we finally got there (Chicago's a long city -- it's a 25 mile drive from our house to the 5th District) I was surprised to discover that the courtyard of the police station was a homeless enclave. Seven or eight people were sleeping in the courtyard and one woman wearing a bright blue blouse and lots of jewelry was zooming around with manic energy. As we approached the door of the station, she made a beeline for Shaun and started trying to sell him (or give him -- it was unclear) her earring. "No thanks," Shaun said, "but he [pointing at me] sure would like a hug." Bastard. We provided some chuckles for the watching police inside the station as I tried to avoid the outstretched arms of CrazyLady without actually breaking into a run.
Getting the bike was surprisingly simple. Shaun produced his police report from the original theft, identified the bike ("Yup -- that's my bike. Hey, it's clean!") signed one piece of paper, and the officer left us behind the station with the bike. Shaun pointed out that he hadn't even had to show any ID.
At first glance, the bike seemed OK -- it was cleaner than it had been when it was stolen and the rims were shiny. But when Shaun went to see if he could start the bike to drive it away, we began to realize the bike was a mess. The ignition was smashed in, the bike had been laid down on both sides, a mirror was snapped off, the front brake lever was snapped in half and the rear brake pedal was torn off completely. And when we had given up on getting the bike started and started to push it, we noticed that the steering was crooked and the frame was probably bent. (Look for this bike on eBay, soon!)
If it was surprising that Shaun didn't have to show his ID to get the bike, it is not surprising that two guys in t-shirts pushing a motorcycle out of a police station back parking lot at 2 am will draw some questions. We had made it 20 feet when we were stopped by two officers who had just driven in.
"Hey. Hey! I assume you two are police officers?"
"No, sir."
"Then what are you doing?"
"My motorcycle was stolen and I just recovered it..."
"You recovered it?"
"I mean, you guys recovered it..."
They let him get the rest of his story out and he showed them an excess of ID (Shaun often carries his passport around just in case) and they let us go. We made it another 30 feet before another cop car drove into the lot and stopped us again. After Shaun told his story again, these cops shared that they had to watch out because impounded cars were often taken to this lot before they were towed to the real impound lot and that people would steal back their own cars.
When we made it back around to the front of the building where we had parked the truck, CrazyLady zoomed over to us. "My daddy had one of these. It was red. And a truck. And a boat. Would you like this mumble-mumble-dibble-bop." Shaun said he thought she was trying to sell him a piece of plastic.
One way to turn an errand into an adventure is to bring inadequate tools. Staring at the back of the truck, trying to ignore CrazyLady's attempts to bring us up to speed on the Sox game, we realized that we had forgotten to bring any sort of ramp. We tugged at the bike a bit (and noticed more things that had been damaged) and tried to think.
There's some sort of scent given off by a mechanical problem that draws guys and unsolicited advice. A guy drove up in a car with spinning rims, parked, and started offering suggestions.
"Maybe you could take the tailgate off and then get the front wheel up onto the bumper and take a rest and then get it the rest of the way up."
Sure, that's an idea.
"You guys from Lakeview?"
Yeah. More or less. Up north.
"My uncle was the guy that was shot in Wrigleyville. He had a concession stand up there. I know all about that neighborhood."
OK.
"I have to go visit some people inside but I'll help you get it up if you're still here when I come back."
Thanks.
More thinking and tugging and thinking and eek! CrazyLady is sitting on the motorcycle!
"Please get off my motorcycle!"
"All right. OK. Mumble-Dibble-Stimple."
Finally I had a brain flash. If we took the tailgate off, it could be the ramp. After that it was almost too easy. RimsGuy came out at just the right time and helped us push the cycle up the tailgate/ramp. We wedged the bike in diagonally and lashed it down with the one winch-strap we had remembered to bring (inadequate tools, people, that's the key) and then it was just an easy half-hour drive back north. CrazyLady waved goodbye to us with a Dunkin' Donuts cup and a piece of wax paper and bid the south side a fond adieu.
Posted by Fuzzy at 4:17 AM | Comments (1)
Shucks
All right, I'll say it. We lost. 3-2. But we lost to last season's champions, and the 2 runs we scored on them are the only runs anyone has scored on them so far this season.
Posted by Fuzzy at 3:58 AM
September 20, 2004
Ruth Buzzy
Nobody rocks a coffee house in the south suburbs like Ruth Buzzy.
(Bare opened up for Ruth Buzzy at the Muse Cafe this past Saturday. That's right, we open for rock bands. What does your improv group do on Saturday nights? Wish you were in Lansing, that's what. Suckas.)
Posted by Fuzzy at 11:15 PM
Tortoise
Tortoise, World Music Festival, Pritzker Pavilion, Millennium Park, 9/20/2004
I think the best kind of concert is running into a coworker in the hall at 4 o'clock and he says, "hey, a band you like is playing a free concert a few blocks away in a few hours" and you don't have anything else going on that night and there's mexican food on the way there. But that's just me.
Posted by Fuzzy at 10:19 PM
September 18, 2004
Victory
Are these the faces of victory? Yes, yes they are. 6-5 over the Feets of Fury in a nail-biting bottom of the 5th comeback.
And now you see schedules of upcoming games and more standings and stats than you'd ever care about at the new Chicago Deep Dish Division Kickball site.
Posted by Fuzzy at 12:11 PM
The S(c)heffield
Hey, they fixed it.
Posted by Fuzzy at 12:05 PM | Comments (0)
September 16, 2004
Photos from Toronto
Hey, I've put up a gallery of photos of the Chicago Neutrino Project crew in Toronto.
Posted by Fuzzy at 7:00 PM
September 13, 2004
The important things
Well, in between all this kerfluffle about shows I was doing in other countries and such, I completely forgot to mention the real news -- my kickball team, the James Brown Celebrity Hot Tub Party, defeated the Burninators 13-4 in our opening game of the fall season. No thanks to me -- I was on a plane to Toronto at the time. But this week, beware... other kickball team... whose name I haven't looked up on the schedule... just beware.
Posted by Fuzzy at 9:51 PM
September 11, 2004
Halfway
Two more shows tonight -- 10:30 and midnight. Tabetha and Kerry from Slap Happy sat in last night. Then we partied with Joey. Who will sit in and who will we party with tonight? You'll have to come to the show to find out.
Posted by Fuzzy at 11:05 AM
Chicago interlude
Clyborn, just south of Diversey.
I took this picture back in Chicago on Thursday but hadn't had a chance to post it yet.
Posted by Fuzzy at 10:48 AM | Comments (0)
September 10, 2004
Slushie
I just gave a jump start to an ice cream truck in the parking lot of our hotel and the ice cream guy gave me a lime slushie for helping him out. Helpfulness is yummy.
Posted by Fuzzy at 2:48 PM | Comments (0)
Toronto arrival
I'm sitting in Slap Happy's Kerry Griffin's living room, blanking the rest of the tapes for the shows this weekend and watching Rounders on TV. (Hey! John Malkovich is the Russian bad guy!)
I came into town a day early to be a point man in case anything needed doing. Other than the tapes, it doesn't seem like anything needs doing. Oh well. But it did mean I got to see the Second City Toronto mainstage show - "Invasion Free Since 1812" - with Slap Happy's Sandy Jobin-Bevins. And I both worked my way into the improv set and was invited. (It had been recommended to me that sitting in on the set was a good way to promote the show, so I had asked Carlie if that was OK. Sandy evidently didn't know about that and when he saw me after the second act he asked if I'd like to do the set.) It's only my second Second City improv set sit-in, and the other one was a TourCo show in Arlington Heights, so... I was a little nervous. You wanna be cool for the cool kids, you know. But it was fun. I jumped out near the beginning playng a parakeet with my hands. Who became the main character of the scene. After that, it all seems easy.
A bonus feature of watching Rounders is that I've now seen Sandy's new commercial for the Cash for Life lottery 3 times. Sandy and his family! Sandy in a beret! Old Sandy!
Oh, and I don't want to say that Toronto street signs are terrible. But they are. I got lost 5 times trying to get from Second City to Kerry's house.
OK, if you're in Toronto. Or eastern Canada. Or upstate New York. Come see one of the four Chicago Neutrino Project shows this weekend.
Posted by Fuzzy at 3:06 AM
September 8, 2004
On the Radio
It looks like the Chicago Neutrino Project's visit to Toronto will be plugged on CBC Toronto's Here and Now program. If you don't already listen to this paragon of radio excellence, I think this week is the time to start, don't you?
Posted by Fuzzy at 3:10 PM
September 5, 2004
Toronto bound
We got invited to go up to Toronto to do the Chicago Neutrino Project at Second City's Tim Sims Playhouse. Second City is tieing into the Toronto Film Fest with the opening of their first film production, Dave Thomas' Intern Academy, and what says film tie-in better than instantly making a movie? Nothing, that's what.
We'll be doing four shows over two nights -- Friday, September 10 at 10:00 PM and 11:30 PM and on Saturday, September 11 at 10:30 PM and midnight.
It's all come together on rather short notice, so if you know someone in Toronto, be sure to plug the show to them.
Posted by Fuzzy at 10:56 AM
A couple of street conversations
My coworker Kyle and I were walking back to office after lunch on Thursday, a Streetwise vendor (dressed, somewhat oddly, in a baby blue-and-white basketball uniform) stuck a paper out towards me and said, "How about it, guy."
"Sorry, man."
"How about you, baby," he said to the person right behind me. Baby? I glanced to see who was behind me.
"Kyle, did that Streetwise vendor just call you baby?"
"Yes.
------------
Earlier in the week, Erica and I were walking past the playground at Swift School. A car was stopped in the street. It was a big seventies muscle car with big tires and those rims that spin. (I don't know my seventies muscle cars well enough to know what it was, but Erica later said, "let's call it an Impala. You know, because of the song. 'Wanna be a -- baller, shot caller/Twenty inch blades -- on the Impala.'")
If we hadn't noticed the rims before, it was highlighted for us by a woman standing by the playground wearing a matching set of baby-blue terry-cloth hot pants and too-tight shirt. "Spin, motherfuckas, spin!" she enthused.
"Anyway," she continued, "it's 555-1212 [only she was giving some real number here and the guy in the car was putting it into his cell phone] and my name is Therese."
"Did we just witness a pick-up based on cool rims?" I asked Erica when we got a little farther down the street.
"Yup. And did you notice that she gave her name after her number? And then she pointed out her baby who was playing on the playground."
"That's the one woman in a hundred that makes guys think it's worth shouting things at every woman on the street because she's the one that'll answer back."
[I just showed this to Erica to fact-check it ("I think her name was Therese, not Crystal") and she said, "I think I saw that guy yesterday driving down the same street. I should give him my number." "What!" "Sorry, baby, it's the rims."]
Posted by Fuzzy at 10:16 AM
September 3, 2004
New City's Best of Chicago
You can vote for Chicago Metblog as Best Local Blog in New City's Best of Chicago 2004 Poll (and, oh yeah, best other stuff, too. But Best Local Blog, that's the ticket!)
If you wanted to say that the Chicago Neutrino Project was the best theater production of the last year or so, well, I wouldn't mind that either.
Posted by Fuzzy at 10:48 AM
September 2, 2004
Erica Reid
It's a little bare bones at the moment, but if you're interested in seeing Erica Reid perform, you can now check out www.ericareid.com for all your Erica Reid-related performance information needs.
Posted by Fuzzy at 5:13 PM
Obama speech on iTunes
The iTunes Music Store and Audible.com have the speeches from both the Democratic and Republican conventions for free (you do have to have an iTMS or Audible account) so I finally (I'm slow, I know) got to hear Barack Obama's keynote speech (iTMS link - Audible.com link)
Some other choice bits:
- Barack Obama and Alan Keyes on Fresh Air
- Alan Keyes accuses a Chicago Tribune reporter of working for the Democratic party
- Alan Keyes accuses Fox News Chicago's Walter Jacobson of working for the Democratic party
We've got it so good in Illinois -- one of our senatorial candidates is inspiring and the other one is just so loopy it's funny.
Posted by Fuzzy at 10:23 AM
September 1, 2004
Alarm!
Last night, Erica and I were having a late supper. On several recommendations we had gone to see Playtime at the Musicbox. It was great, by the way. I usually have an attention span of about 3 seconds, and I complain and complain about how slow old movies are, but I sat enraptured through long slow takes of very little happening at all (and other shots where so much is happening that you're not sure what to look at).
Anyway, we didn't even start cooking until 11 pm. I threw some burgers on the grill and grated some pepper jack (Tillamook pepper jack, which is also great. I remember when Tillamook cheddar showed up in Chicago a few years ago and I'm happy that more varieties of Tillamook are available here now) over some torilla chips and stuck them in the oven on broil.
And we got talking and yakking and I flipped the burgers once and, hey, I almost forgot about the nachos.
When I opened the oven door, cartoony flames shot out half a foot in my direction. AAAAAA! I slammed the oven door shut. Whadda I do? Whadda I do? OK, turn off the oven. Done. OK, let's get that pan out of there. Turn on the sink and grab some hot pads and open the oven door again. Flames! AAAAA! Slam. Now smoke was starting to bubble out of the burners on the stove. And the smoke alarm went off. Well, good to know that works. Fire extingusher! OK, it's got some sort of seal on it, good thing this isn't an emergency, I'd be dead by now. There, got it. Open oven door. Whoosh. The fire's out but there's still smoke everywhere.
And now there's another alarm going off out in the back stairwell. Great. Did I set off someone else's smoke alarm? And now the smoke alarm on the oven starts going off. Great job, oven. I set up a fan to blow the smoke out of the kitchen and sure enough in a minute the smoke alarm in my place went out. But the alarm in the stairwell was still going. Great. We all just moved into this building and I've been trying to make a good impression on the neighbors. A loud alarm at 11:30 pm is probably not the best way to do that.
I went out into the stairwell to look. There was a loud mechanical bell alarm in a box at the bottom of the stairwell. There were no switches visible to turn it off. The four units in my building all have alarm systems that the previous owner had installed and Shaun and I hadn't bothered figuring it out because we didn't plan on using it. But I guess the fire alarm in my unit had triggered it. But how to turn it off? I went down into the common area and found a box labeled "Norshore Alarm", the same name as on the security system in our unit. Amd it was even clicking in rhythm with the alarm. And it was locked. But it had phone numbers on it -- I ran back upstairs and grabbed a phone. "The number you have reached has been disconnected." Crap. (I didn't try this until today, but the "Contact Us" link on their website is also a 404. Good job, Norshore.)
When in doubt, brute force is always an option. So I took the alarm box apart and disconnected the alarm. It took a really long, loud time to get all the screws off the cover plate. And of course I took all the screws off in the wrong order so the alarm fell inside and the box and made different loud klaxons. But, finally - silence, blessed silence.
Oh, and the burgers? Erica saved the burgers.
P.S. If you have an oven fire, don't actually bother opening the oven. Just turn it off and wait for it to burn out.
P.P.S. I just realized that my little oven fire was literally a three-alarm fire.
Posted by Fuzzy at 6:31 PM