Sweet Home Chicago

At the time I sit down to publish this, there's still one minute left of Weight Loss Wednesday, but right now I don't care about Weight Loss Wednesday. If you think that's due to Frema gaining two pounds in one week, you're only partly right.

Luke's and my weekend extravaganza kicked off with the long-awaited Jerry Seinfeld show in downtown Indianapolis. Prior to our living together, I had no interest in Jerry Seinfeld, in his stand-up or his trivial, nothing little show, but the minute Luke's bags dropped at the front of my door step, all preconceived notions flew out the window and soon I was pissing my pants with the best of them over Jerry's housecleaning prostitute and "not that there's anything wrong with that" bit. On Friday night we hurried home from work, scarfed down a couple of bacon sandwiches (bacon sandwiches for me, at least, as in, no lettuce, and tomato on the side), and scurried out the door a good forty minutes before the seven o'clock start time. And if all we had to do was pull into the Murat Theatre parking lot, claim a space, and make our way to the ticket booth, I would've had plenty of time to relieve myself before finding our seats. However, coming from a city as ginormous as Chicago, I never in my wildest dreams imagined we'd actually have to deal with something as "big city" as parking issues and therefore allotted zero extra time to address the crowds.

The Murat lot was, of course, full, so our only option was to seek comfort in the arms of another, less sophisticated one, one with lower standards and no ability to accept credit card payments. This meant wasting ten minutes of pee time circling the block, rejoicing over the spotting of a bank and simultaneously cursing the fact that IT DID NOT HAVE AN ATM, WHAT THE HELL CENTURY ARE WE LIVING IN, PEOPLE, before victory was ours.

Once the car was secured in a no-tow zone, we flew up eight flights of stairs, during which I realized I paid seventy-seven dollars a ticket to squeeze my legs together, attempting to hold back the yellow flood, in the middle of the damn balcony. But we made it on time, seconds before the opening act, and twenty minutes later Jerry skidaddled onto the stage, and I actually shed a tear, so happy was I to see him. Urinate, schmurinate. What's another eighty minutes of holding it in for Jerry freaking Seinfeld?

The next morning, we saddled up for three glorious days in Chi-town. Luke was on assignment at a national housewares exhibit, and his room just happened to be at the W Lakeshore, one of BlogHer's own hotels of choice, and also the place where Molly and I and Isabel and Hollow Squirrel will be partying like it's 1999 this July. I felt it was my duty as a blogger to take two days off from work and test the waters.

I've just laid the framework for the perfect segue into hotel pictures, but first I have to tell you about this.

For the first time since my dad purchased his rad Harley motorcycle last summer, he took me for a ride around town. We zipped along on Archer Avenue, past our local Jewel, past the McDonald's that issued my first paycheck, past the abandoned lot behind the train station where my first boyfriend and I would make out like rabbits. There are condos there now. It's all very sad.

(I didn't tell my dad that, though. It was traumatizing enough for him to catch the two of us sucking face in the very alley you see above. I'm glad we're able to share such treasured memories surrounding my coming of age.)

OK, the hotel. This was without a doubt the most la-dee-da overnighter I've ever stayed in. The toiletries were provided by the spa housed below the main level, the convenience basket featured a ten-dollar pair of flip-flops, and there was a window (with shutters!) built into the wall of our bathroom. I scratched my head on that one for a good twenty-four hours, until I realized you could number two and still catch the results of that last DNA test on Judge Hatchett. Genius!

If the architects were smart enough to marry bowel movements and the boob tube, why could they not understand the importance of being able to cop a squat on the royal throne while your spouse is lathering up?

After Luke's Monday shift at McCormick Place, we moseyed on over to Navy Pier and took turns using our new digital camera. These shots were my feeble attempt at capturing the atmosphere.

I wonder how many first dates are staged here, how many first kisses? Over the summer they hold a fireworks display over Lake Michigan twice a week. It doesn't get more romantic than that.

The Pier is home to the nationally renowned Shakespeare Theatre, so one might think Luke is auditioning for an upcoming play here, but he's actually miming my intense dismay over the fact that Pretzelmaker is gone, my friends. GONE. The salted Parmesan cheese pretzel with garlic and I never even got to say good-bye. Sniff.

It also took my husband some time to absorb the shock. "Why, God, why?"

To be sure, it was a fantastic weekend, filled with family, friends, hair cuts (praise Jesus), my father's homemade barbequed ribs, and two issues of Marie Claire (which I absolutely love. Glamour's cookie-cutter opines pale in comparison. Thanks, Matt and Patty!). The memories I carried with me to work today just about made up for neglecting to factor in the time change when programming the VCR for 24. Dammit.

Comments

[Brooke]

I am so so so bum that we missed you guys :o(

[VirginiaGal]

Random thoughts in response:
No pretzel ever again! Oh the horror. I am officially disappointed on your behalf!

When reading the first information about the show for which you had tickets my brain processed Jerry Seinfeld as Jerry Springer....

Last, but certainly not least, the most recent Clinique gift at the (one) local department store included a free 1-year subscription to Marie Claire along with the other makeup related goodies.

Sounds like you had a fantastic weekend. Yay!

[Silly Hily aka The Hilarazzi]

Thank goodness you are back and finally got a chance to post. I was [this] close to having a No Frema Attack.
I'm glad you and Luke had a good time. That hotel rocks. I must admit though, every single time I read "me, Molly, Isabel, and Hollow Squirrel" I cry and maybe even die a little inside. (And yes, I will make a point to say that every single time you mention it for the next several months because waaaaaaaa.)

Side not: I giggle every time you use the word piss. You just don't seem like the kind of girl to use the word piss so it cracks me up.

[Marriage-101]

I've been to Navy Pier during the summer fireworks and you're right, it's VERY romantic. I also enjoyed riding the big ferris wheel at night and being able to see the city. We stayed at the W hotel in Civic Center and hoitey-toitey about sums it up, but I hear the one on Lakeshore is even more extravagent.

BTW, your blog has made me give some serious thought about attending BlogHer.

[Molly]

That's the best damn picture of Luke ever! You guys crack me up.

I'm glad you had a great weekend. Can't wait to join you there for BlogHer!!

[Rachel]

Sounds like a great weekend! That hotel bathroom is awesome! I would love to go to Chicago one day! And eat some pizza!

[CPA Mom]

I'm with Silly Hily. I die a little inside when I think of you, Molly, Isabel and HS at BlogHer. Without me. WAHHHHHHHHHHHHH

And no more pretzels? For the love of all that is holy, WHYYYYY???

We saw Jerry Seinfeld when he came here. Deeply disappointing. And I didn't even need to pee.

[Stacey]

Good times! You have whet my appetite for some good Blogher recaps come July. Woo hoo!

[Lindsey]

What great pictures and fun adventures! I am also a fan of Marie Claire--it's the only magazine I have a subscription to.

Your post also made me have to pee, really badly. I'm not lying. I'm headed to the throne right now!

[daddy d]

What fun. Such an adventure in such a short time. I could never keep up with that pace. Youth has so much energy to live.

[Liz]

Sounds like fun!

[Fraulein N]

Looks like good times. I love the shutters in the john; I would have put them to the same good use, I'm sure.

[HollowSquirrel]

When you type things like BLOGHER and getting together to party like it's 1999, I get all excited and can't concentrate on work and instead calming get up, shut my office door and do the dance! Kind of like The Safety Dance but with less chance of whiplash. I do the Running Man though. SO excited. I heart Navy Pier and your husband (but not in a Melrose Place kind of way). He's ahhdorable. Perfect for you!

[Sista Sambo]

You two take the coolest trips! Dan and I should really more plan more things together outside of what we've already done. I love the picture of you and Daddy on the motorcycle! I love you sister!