I have a really stupid job. Probably half my time is spent out and about: measuring things, taking photos of things, measuring things I already took photos of, photographing things I need to measure, meeting people, going to City Hall and getting permits (which is the biggest crock of shit imaginable and it's own rightful blog post), taking out of my ass, ordering and consuming Dunkin' Donuts coffee, etc. I go all over the place. I see weird things / people. I always have a digital camera with me. Put two and two together.
Why does "Pete's Sidelines" make me feel dirty?
Blog shmlog.
It was such a nice day today and I had to go not downtown but to the Gold Coast-y Viagra Triangle-ly Heart of Evil known as State / Dearborn / Walton / Delaware, a.k.a. Walton on the Park. There's really no good way to get there from the near Northwest side where my office is, so I decided to take the scenic route: Elston Avenue. I think Elston is my favorite street in Chicago. It's like a mini-expressway through the city. There's rarely a lot of traffic (that Fullerton / Damen six-corner ass-fuck notwithstanding) and it cuts right through most of the bullshit. It's also just a WEIRD street. The view driving southeast into the heart of downtown can be pretty cool, too:
Just ignore the Lexus, the electrical wires, the streetlights, the traffic signs and that gigantic pile of bum dung off to the right
Anyway, State/Walton/Delaware/Dearborn pretty much SUCKS and is probably my least favorite place in the entire city. Why, you ask?
Three Corners of Bullshit
Yes, these are the southwest, southeast and northwest views from the corner of Walton & State, in all their glory. Where the fuck are they going to find all these people to buy these places? Oh, and the northeast view? They're just breaking ground now. The noise was defeaning. The pollution, teaming. The douchebaggery, rampant.
I did my thing and got out of there lickety-splitly. Everyone in that neighborhood thinks their better than me, anyway. Maybe they are with their expensive cars and their complicated shoes. Fuck those people.
As do I, Sarah Marshall. Slut.
You know why I hate you and your eponymous movie, Sarah Marshall? Because some guy who lived downstairs from this guy who used to pull bongs and play Doom with a guy who wrote 6 jokes in "Knocked Up" wrote this assuredly-shitty "Sarah Marshall" movie, and now for the next ten years we're all going to be subjected to, "From the team that brought you 'Superbad' and "The 40 Year Old Virgin,' Paramount Pictures proudly presents the biopic everyone's been waiting for, the heart-warming and inspriational story of His Holiness, Karol Józef Wojtyła, John Paul II!"
Possible Titles:
The 80 Year Old Virgin
Pope on a Rope
Rope on a Pope
Pope on a Pope
Rope-a-Pope
Pope-a-Dope
Pope-a-Pope
Hey, Let's Get Drunk and Fuck High School Girls!
Superbad II: The Popening
You Cock-Blocked McLovin
Again, it was such a nice day and I was cruising back north on Elston, listening to Allison Krauss & Robert Plant like the good, college-educated white guy with taste and vitriolic hatred for all things emo I am and I passed a Baskin Robbins.
"Hmm...youu know...it's 70 degrees out. I'm going to get some ice cream. I realize it's 11:15 in the morning and I haven't eaten lunch or anything. Am I still getting ice cream? Fuck to the yes."
You seriously have no idea how covetously my wife is staring at this photo, cursing my name for the ability to get ice cream at 11:15 in the morning
Considering that 10 years ago I would have done whatever drug you'd set in front of me (as long as I didn't have to shoot it), getting ice cream in the morning is now me being "naughty." I'll meet you at the bridge and we can jump off it together. Maybe we can watch some "America's Funniest Home Videos" first.
How many places like this are there in Chicago, you think? Is 3,000,000 too high? I say no.
Has anyone ever figured out what a "super taco" is? I've always secretly kind of wanted to order one, but I'm a little afraid. A little afraid of it being embarrasingly immense and a little afraid of it sucking beyond reproach.
And finally, my paean to the cruelest, most foul and yet most delicious Chicago-style fast-food snack guilt known to Chicagokind: the pizza puff. What's the opposite of sublime? Blunt? Direct? I think it's "pizza puff." In what context does one order a pizza puff? You can't order just the puff and a drink, right? I mean, that's not enough for lunch. Is it? Similarly, can one really order the puff and a drink WITH FRIES and not just immediately change into a 10 year old college sweatshirt, flannel pants and fuzzy slippers? Can you order the puff and a drink with a salad? What if the place doesn't carry salads, or what if their idea of "salad" is 1/4 head of iceberg lettuce adorned only with an immense slab of both carrot and cucumber? Fuck that. That's not a salad. That's what you feed your pet rabbit.
My wife has insisted that there is only one proper context for the consumption of the pizza puff: extreme inebriation. And while I don't refute her claim that the puff is quite beguiling to the drunk, I--as a sober person at least, ehhh, 20% of the time--would appreciate more puff-munching (ahem) opportunties.
Anyone? Bueller?
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