Somewhere between Bell's Palsy and death
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Miguelino to get big, fat, expensive dinner

Something’s happening over here at Chez Broad. I can’t tell you exactly what it is, because it’s not completely set in stone yet (plus I’m not sure how much I’m supposed to say publically, anyway, so I’m just not going to say anything concrete at all), but I need y’all to send good thoughts into the ether for me, because if it happens, it’s going to be HUUUUUGE. And it’s all because my pal Miguelino [aka NWI news stud Michael Puente] is a golden GOD who gets dinner on me, his choice, if it shakes out.

Stay tuned ...


Posted by Broad10:26 AM
Monday, January 29, 2007
A-listing on the z-list, babies

Check this out: I’ve been invited as a permanent poster over at Cat Raggedy, joining the ranks of Cat Rags and col, another hot piece of ass. Got my own log-in and everything. So now, I can lay on the couch and think about all the things I should be writing about for two blogs instead of one. Excellent.

Seriously, go over, if for nothing else than to see the sexy design mel whipped up for her over the weekend. Bitch gots an eye, no question.


Posted by Broad12:59 PM
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Proof that I’ve been out of the dating scene a little too long

Funny ending to the story about the hot guy with whom I was flirting Sunday afternoon during the Bears-Saints game.

It starts off Sunday evening: I’m filling Snidgey in on the deets when, for some reason appropos of nothing, I decided to see if he’s listed in the phone book. His name is kind of common, but sure enough, there was someone by that name in the phonebook in the town in which he lived. At first I thought Ok, what, if anything, should I do with this information? but blew it off until the next day, when I was telling one of my editors about it. We chuckled, and then I kinda forgot about it aGAIN until one of our writers called me up looking for a Colts fan. (I told said editor the group’s patriarch was the Colts fan, and this cat’s rounding them up to chat with them over the next few weeks.) I told him to find out if Hot Guy was single ... or, perhaps I could give him a call to find out patriarch’s digits, maybe ...!?? Hmmmmm ...

Fast forward to today. I was talking to Pops (and Peaps, who had the cutest case of the hiccups EVER), and I ran the whole story down to her. She was thrilled that I was taking initiative, etc., and it turns out that she KNOWS the family through her hub. Well, HOT PISS, I say! Ask Hub if he knows Hot Guy! This is awesome! So she texts him.

I was nattering on about something when, a few minutes later, I get:

Well, you’re not going to want to date (Hot Guy).



“Oh?" I say. “Why’s that!??”

Because he’s (Hub’s friend’s brother’s) PARTNER.



excaim


Now, having more friends and family of the gay persuasion than I can shake a well-toned ass at, I like to think that my gaydar’s pretty well-honed; I mean, I imMEDIATEly picked out the gay brother, but I just figured he was there hanging out with his fam. But Hot Guy? NOT. ONE. CLUE. Honest to God, I was absolutely floored before Pops and I started laughing our asses off.

She and Tara were bummed that it shook out like that—he being the first guy I’ve taken a serious shine to in forever—but I’m actually still kinda giggling over it. I cannot beLIEVE I didn’t see it coming.


Posted by Broad10:01 AM
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Covering sports is fun. Who knew?

Ok, so I keep meaning to post, but then I get sucked into the vortex that is my couch (oh, how I’m going to be sad when I give up that couch. I keep going back and forth over whether I should just have it cleaned and the middle cushion re-cushioned or if I should just scrap it altogether, but I digress) and then you know how it goes. And anyways, things have been rather quiet in these parts.

But how ‘bout them Bears, y’all? The Bears AND the Colts!?? Jesus, it’s going to be freakin’ bedlam in NWI for the next two weeks, though NWI roots more for the Bears by virtue of us being a technical suburb of Chicago. I’ll tell you what, though: If the paper asks me to cover the Super Bowl, I will do so gladly, because I? MET A HOT GUY TONIGHT! (does a little peepee dance of joy)

(ahem)

My gig today was hitting the local bars and watching people’s reaction to the game, and he was among a group I chose to interview. (And if you were to say that I chose to talk to them because of him, you ... probably wouldn’t be wrong.) The group was a blast, though at one point they wanted me to leave because the Saints made a few key plays, and it was thought that I might’ve been screwing up the juju. But the Bears came back, so it was fine. Anyway, if I do say so myself, there was a fair amount of touchy-feely going on, and it was not wrong, so ... Haven’t decided what my next move will be, but I think there might have to be one. 


Posted by Broad11:25 PM
Saturday, January 13, 2007
I think you’re suing the wrong guy

I haven’t attempted to be all political and indignant in awhile, but a story that ran in the paper yesterday stuck as well as led me into several lengthy discussions that I’m still trying to process.

Our good buddy JB wrote a story (which y’all can peep in all its glory after the jump) about an illegal from Mexico who killed his back while working for this dude. Insurance covered his injury for about 2 months when it discovered that the SSN the cat provided was false and thus stopped paying. Well now, the cat is suing to get paid.

As a rule, I’m not anti-immigrant, and I cringe whenever I hear about these nutbags wanting to build walls along the border with gun turrets and all that crap. But I have to say, I got a little pissed off when I got to the part where the guy said:

I want to work, but I can’t. And now, they aren’t paying me.

“What do you MEAN, they aren’t paying you?” I thought to myself. “When I’m ill or hurt or decide to take time off, do you think I get paid? Fuck no I don’t get paid, and I’m born and bred here. I don’t even have freakin’ health insurance if I DID get ill or hurt. But you, sir, are in the country illegally, and you provided false ID. What makes you think you’re entitled to anything!??”

I took my indignance along with questions over to JB; I didn’t cover the story, so obviously there were facts to which I wasn’t privy, as in specifically, what is the employer’s responsibility in ensuring that the identification a job applicant provides is legit. Well, regardless of whether the employer provided the ID for him or he provided it on his own, therein lies the problem: All the employer’s going to have to say is, “Well, we thought he was legal. Bad us!” and he’ll get off scot free (which totally baffles me because with all the ways we have to check on a brother or sister these days? Please, but whatever). I don’t agree one bit that the insurance company should pay for the guy because rules are rules. Then again, small businesses (and even large ones, undoubtedly) always cry about the wages they have to pay people, so then lawmakers end up looking the other way when it comes to immigrant labor, thereby circumventing a whole other set of rules altogether, and now my head hurts.

Story’s beneath the fold. Any thoughts, y’all?


Posted by Broad5:22 PM
Thursday, January 11, 2007
That’s why I love her so much

Sometimes when you leave our friend Poppy alone for a while, she starts letting her mind wander. This is what happens when you leave her alone with pictures of her Peapod (to finally be nicknamed “Peaps” from here on out) and Microsoft word:

baby’s new project


Posted by Broad4:44 PM
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Foreign things

Anybody as excited as I am that The Sopranos is coming to A&E!?? I’m, like, DYING, I can’t wait. Yes, it’s been out on DVD for five, six years now. Yes, it’s been on every version of HBO known to man. But I watch only three, four stations at the most, and my dial is always set to A&E. I’ll never have to think about changing the channel again!

I spent today cleaning my kitchen from top to bottom, or essentially top to bottom since I didn’t touch the top of the fridge or the insides of the oven or microwave (wasn’t quite THAT ambitious). Not only did I clean it, but for the first time in many, many months a while, I cooked, as in REAL food, not frozen pizza as I’m wont to do. I didn’t even BUY frozen pizza, as I also rediscovered that grocery shopping ain’t cheap. But it was either that and have some food for the next two weeks that I’m going to be piss poor or risk overdrawing my account and put myself into a huge hole that my next check won’t be able to cover.

(Which reminds me: Several people have been giving me grief asking me if I’ve finally given up the dream of living as a near-starving writer because they haven’t seen my byline in awhile. The answer is no, I’m still an intrepid reporter; it’s just that everything I work on shuts down in December, and then it takes a couple weeks for everything to ramp back up. It would be cool if the people that were asking were doing so because they miss my writing, but alas, the concern is more that I’m going to be hitting them up for rent. Such is the life of an intrepid reporter.)

Anyway, I about bowled Kaffy over when I told her all I’d done today; the best part was when she said that if I’d actually cooked real food, that had to have meant that I had to have gone to the grocery store for more than Pepsi and cat necessities.

Guess you had to be there.

Going along with the whole cleaning bit (though on a much lesser scale), over the past few days I’ve taken a cue from Ms. Pants and gone through some of my old entries about certain things in an attempt to purge them from my world, start 2007 anew, yadayadayada—not the entries themselves, but the impetus behind them. What I can say about the exercise is that while I still feel strongly, seeing what I said and what I felt at the time feels really foreign to me, like it doesn’t even compute. And ... that probably didn’t explain anything at all, but I’m all right with that. I’m in a comfortable, reasonable place right now, without much regret about anything that happened last year. Of course, I’m not saying, “I’m never ever going to let someone treat me like that again ever in a million years ever!”, because there’s nothing I distrust more than the absolute. I’m just saying that looking back at it fascinates me in way I’ve never been, kind of like looking at an experiment that’s gone horribly wrong.

On that note, I totally want this, and I’ve got a birthay coming up. Just saying.


Posted by Broad9:12 AM
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Future parents of America
Teen boy: Dumb bitch can’t even get the potholes fixed in the road, and she’s up there talking.

Teen girl: Um, it’s not like she can hear you through the TV.


-- an actual conversation Poppy overheard in the gynie office today [CLARIFICATION: They were watching Nancy Pelosi’s address to Congress.]
Posted by Broad1:18 PM
Monday, January 01, 2007
No, the crib didn’t get cleaned. Why do you ask?

A lovely ending to a great holiday—spent it lit up on la champagne with Kaffy in an undisclosed location of which we would have to kill you if we told you, and then I covered what just might be my New Year’s resolution next year: The Polar Bear Swim. For the uneducated, it’s a bunch of idiots who’ve donned bathing suits and taken a dip in Lake Michigan each New Year’s for the past 9 years. Now, I’ll admit that the first thing out of my gob upon seeing the masses run toward the angry waves was, “Not now, not EVER,” but then I went to the afterparty. The whole thing is a family tradition that got started when one of the elders had a heart attack, and he wanted a way for the family to get together and create the craziest memories they possibly could. What a blast these people are! They celebrate FESTIVUS, fer chrissakes! And there was going to be a zip-line with some of the guys holding a mattress so you wouldn’t get creamed by the tree at the end! And one year, they even made a 100-pound meatloaf! Seriously, how could this not be a freakin’ scream!?? The caveat, however, is that I’ll have had to have shed enough weight that I won’t be horrified to put on a swimsuit.

This year’s resolution, on the other hand, is that I resolve to continue working on rebuilding my spine (metaphorically, natch, though after ending up on the floor Sunday night (don’t ask), I really could use a massage). Oh, and being less tactful.


Posted by Broad8:32 PM
It is the job of a good person to be honest. To be self-aware. To deliberately explore the fault lines of your character and try desperately to not inflict suffering in this strange, ghost-ridden world of worked and fabricated objects. Sometimes the jobs of writer and good person coincide. But more often they don’t. There are way more writers in the world than there are good people.

100 things
Info meme #1
Typelogic says I'm an INFP.
Check my weekly astrological groove here.

Give it to me, baby.

Pssst ... My birthday's Feb. 3, and I want this, and this, and this ...


The Make-Believe Oral Cancer Foundation (M-BOCF) is now accepting donations on my behalf. Won't you please help those of us who jump to hideous conclusions regarding our oral health and help me get a root canal or two!??:



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Broad said: Like I said, my feelings are complicated on the matter, so ... I’m interested, however, in Her Highness’ thoughts on… ...[go].

Caterina said: ARGH!!! Not to deny you your goddess-given right of reflections and wishing what might-have-beens, but this guy was straight up… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, guess who was most nasty about the charitable giving?  The frigging church.  My church and my mom’s… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: By the by, I’m not the only one I know.  I have friends who work at soup kitchens because they’re… ...[go].

Wholovesya? said: As you know, I was a voyeur to the beginning of this, and I was loving your comment!  I have… ...[go].

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This explains that large bit of type at the top.

Tagline by Ben F'in Mollin, talking about those times you wake up still drunk from the night before.

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