16 June 2011

a lesson in etiquette

R.S.V.P. = respondez s'il vous plait, french for "reply please".

it doesn't mean do nothing. it doesn't mean you don't need to respond if you aren't going. it means FUCKING RESPOND!

for folks (like me at the moment) in the throes of planning an event, things like headcount are important. we need to know how much booze to have on hand, our caterers need to know how much food to bring, and we need to know how many cupcakes to have on the fucking dessert tray. and if there's one thing we don't need, it's to have to call your lazy, inconsiderate ass to see if you're coming or not, cuz it's not like we don't already have enough going on.

this has been a big beef for me for a really long time, refreshed anew because my cousin is getting married next weekend, and had to call several members of his own family last week in order to get a final head count to his caterer.

and i realized that in 45 days i too will be getting married, and have no doubt that a few days before i owe my final headcount to my caterer, i will be calling many of the same people to ask the same damn question. thing is, my call will come with a lecture on etiquette, and i'll be a royal bitch about it too.


15 June 2011

multi-city workings

i think having a grown up job in my field must mean that i'm meant to have more than one office under my purview. which is fine. i'm not one to complain about being a regular visitor to another town - even if town #2 is chicago.

zip lives in chicago so i've long been a frequenter, and for those of you who frequent my ramblings you probably know i'm not chicago's biggest fan (and i really really hate the cubs). no lie, chicago's a super fun town. i don't recall ever having a bad time (or even a bad experience) there. there's typically lots of drinking, eating shit i wouldn't dream of looking at calorie and fat count, and a general hop about town.

but there's something about chicago i don't like. it's dark and dreary in a way. it's almost always cold - even in the summer (save the two days last week that it was over 90, before dropping 40 degrees for my last few days), and it just seems sad. rumbling along the el, i watched the cityscape around me. buildings looking old and decrepit as far as the eye could see, dark in color, and stained even further by a century's worth of soot, seemingly slumping atop blocks and blocks of downtrodden urbania. taxi'ing along lakeshore on one of those two hot days, the beaches were packed (like nothing i've ever seen) with swimmers, sunbathers, and hundreds of volleyball players - all basking in the summery day that would fade into a dreary oblivion within hours. you've gotta give a hand to chicagoans for not letting the rare beautiful day go to waste.

that's the thing about chicagoans. thought not a smiling bunch, they seem to keep their spirits above whatever deathly vibe lingers in the air of their city. they know how to party. they know how to enjoy a beautiful day like no one else does. and they know how to be okay with the gut they've gradually grown since college ended (but the lifestyle didn't). and apparently their p.i.t.a. airport.

i really fucking hate the airport. a montrosity bigger than my hometown, o'hare international airport is a shitshow of epic proportion. the lines are ridiculous (and i get the frequent flyer line), the length of the terminals is indescribable, and the amount of people (even on a saturday morning at 9am) is unbelievable. and don't even get me started on the predictability of delays... makes me miss my old LAX to SFO commute.

'cept that now i've got a lot more zip, which outweighs every single one of chicago's negatives. and who knows, maybe i'll someday find something romantic, or at least intriguing, about the uninviting windy city...