One states that the name dates back to 1893 when the city was campaigning to host the Columbian World�s Fair. Chicago boosters blew a lot of �hot air,� and the verbose presentation of shameless bragging eventually won the bid from New York. Let�s linguistically note that �windy� is derived from the ancient Scottish word �windig� meaning �boastful,� and we�ll understand where the New York journalists pulled that out from to smear the city and give it a sticking nickname.

However, reviewing old records shows that a full five years before then, the city already had its moniker. Supposedly the city tried to promote itself (quite ironically, note the Scottish word again) as a summer tourist destination and prime living location. The virtues of wind were promoted for maintaining good health, as the Industrial Revolution produced nasty, ass-tasting air. With the nice wind, the filth and odor become someone else�s problems, and Chicago was the place to be.

Another and more obvious theory is that the name comes from that extreme blustery coming off Lake Michigan that fights its way to your bones, despite the layers of an undershirt, a turtleneck, a sweater, two scarves, ear muffs, a hat, a pair of gloves (or two if you buy $2 gloves at Walgreen�s), and a fleece-lined wool coat.

Today�s Weather Bug has flashed multiple times to warn me about today�s wind advisory. Whitney Young High School is measuring a consistent 22 miles per hour -- enough to sufficiently knock me on my ass.

I�ll take a hint from Mary Poppins� travels and leave the umbrella at home. I don�t need a one-way, freebie trip anywhere. With my luck, I�d end up in some craphole like Detroit, having to fend off the crackheads and rats the size of Hambone with a bent-up umbrella. Sure, pass me the Vicodin. I�m gonna need something to numb the pain if I have to hitchhike my way home.

This entire afternoon, I�ve felt the building swaying. I grew up mere miles from Lake Houston and spent many weekends boating and skiing. The weekends that were lake-free were often spent on Crystal Beach in Galveston. Despite being a waterlogged babe, I feel my stomach getting all topsy-turvy at all of this motion. Being on the 39th floor may give me a nice view of downtown, but buildings aren�t quite so stable in 20+ mph winds.

Me no likey.

I went to the Bastard Bell (half Taco Bell, half KFC) for their luscious cheeseless, onionless bean burrito, and I thought I was going to freeze up right there. (Please, no frigid jokes. I�m not old enough to have my sexual life poked fun at.) I saw some kids with hats that had ears on top. Looks like mama found something new to shop for...

I�m about to skip out early to spend too much money at the Body Shop on things like house fragrances and eye shadow. I�m also in the market for a new pair of khakis. I�ll tell you about my woes with the Perfect Pants later on.

(Oh yeah � If you have that listed in your favorite entries, did you already nominate that for a diary award? And what about my drunk dialing etiquette entry? Yeah. That�s what I thought, fool.)

All right. You guys have a good night. I�m outta here.

Word to ya mutha. Peace.�