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T h e A d v e n t u r e s o f C h i c a g o J o |
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Behold the Power of Cheese |
2003-11-21� �� 1:54 p.m. |
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I know that I�m a vegan and no longer eat cheese, but the saying has come to mind lately. Occasionally a good slogan comes along and makes you think. Like the US Army�s �An Army of One� has you consider how your contribution to the country can benefit yourself, that which makes the world go �round has come to mind lately.
And my friends, it�s definitely not cheese. Let�s take four quick examples that have occurred in the last 24 hours, and then we�ll reflect on what actually runs this joint. In the two-block walk to my office from the subway, I managed to catch several glances. And don�t think that I wore my trampy little skirt to the office; I had on full fall-time gear: a 3/4-sleeved black shirt, a skirt to my knees, panty hose, and knee-high boots. My hair was loose, my glasses weren�t on, and I carried my purse instead of my regular backpack, but not much else was different. Eyes lingered a little longer than usual, the newspaper salesman quit his �Red Eye, getcher RedEye!� momentarily, and my building�s security guard gave me a sly smile. I thought my commando-ness was displayed by a big hole, I forgot to wear a shirt, or there was something sexual oozing from my orfices. Granted, there may be some crazy pheromone action going on, but the truth is that I was completely covered in proper clothing. Yet, for some reason, I was getting all sorts of hottie-bo-bottie reactions. The second example occurred when I headed to this publications party on the west side of town, and I asked a cop for directions to the el. He asked, �Are you going out there alone?� �Yeah, it�s only a couple blocks from the Belmont station.� �No, you don�t need to go there alone. I�ll take you.� So I had a cop drive me from the middle of downtown Chicago 30 blocks north and 30 blocks west so I could attend a party. Example number three was when I entered the bar to a complete sausage fest. (And no, I don�t mean of the grilling and sauerkraut variety either.) Attention was given, homage was paid, and I was the most charming mutha in there without having to give so much as a thought to my words. I had those boys giggling like school girls. I had then giggling like potheads. I had them giggling like pothead school girls. A friend approached me and asked, �Does anyone in this bar have even a chance with you?� I had to laugh. I didn�t give any thought to it, but that�s just the way it is. So, this morning I woke up sick with a headache and terrible congestion. I get dressed in three minutes, smear on a smidge of eyeliner, and leave the house. I catch the el just perfectly, and lean again the doors exactly as I�m instructed not to. (I ride almost daily, so I know that the doors don�t open again until my stop.) So I get the usual, �I�m really just glancing around and you�re doing the same, so don�t think that you busted me staring,� glances, but I catch a strapping red-head with womanly eyes giving me a slight glance before returning to his morning paper. I smile to myself. No big deal. But then I feel this other man staring me down hardcore. Like if I were to completely move locations, he�d turn around to keep looking kind of stare. I�m a bit creeped out, but I keep my el-eyes (ya know -- the look at no one and nothing, and people will leave you alone stare) focused ahead, completely neglecting him. �Excuse me, miss,� he breaks in. �Yes.� �I just want to say that you look very intelligent.� I�m thinking, �WTF?� and I catch a sympathetic glance with a grin from the red-head. So I respond, �It�s the glasses. Don�t let them fool ya. I get that all of the time.� The man continued staring and talking about being a creative writer and how beautiful I was (blah-blah-blah), and the red head was silently trying not to crack up. I hopped off at my stop, wished both a good day, and I recalled the actions over the past two days. The glances while wearing one of my most covered-up outfits. The cop going out of his way when I merely asked a question. My position as queen stooge at the bar. The events at the el. And then I thought about how I handled each with dignity, grace, charm, and wit. It isn�t cheese that makes the world go �round. It�s pussy. Behold the power of pussy. �
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Moving Day - 2008-02-15
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