Lincoln Park Day

Today we went to the Alfred Caldwell Lily Pond, the Lincoln Park Conservatory, and the Lincoln Park Zoo. There are no pictures of zoo animals because my camera battery died, but here are some other photos from the other places.

This looks cool, but structurally unsound.

Here is a special duck or waterfowl of some sort. It looks more regal than your average Chicago duck, the speckled brown ones or the green headed ones. When I was little, my mother collected the crusts of breads I would reject, and we'd take them to a pond probably not too far from this one, and feed the ducks.

There were these nice cherry blossoms, so pink they look like they would reek of Fanta Strawberry or something equally artificially sweet.

Tree bark. When my dad first went to Japan with my mother and me, he'd often fall behind everyone because he'd stop to take a gazillion pictures. I remember distinctly one time when he disappeared, and we all stopped to ask where he was. We found him directly up against some random tree, taking close ups of its bark.

Here's another one, but with vertical lines and orangish-brownish colors.

At the Conservatory, I walked out of the Fern Room and the first thing I noticed after taking a breath of fresher-than-Fern-Room-air was this woman's stockings. And then I realized she was painting her nails some gaudy pink color that vaguely matched her equally gaudy, furry top. I think I was both appalled and impressed by her behavior. And then Mordecai pointed out that that bench is dedicated to a Kei Roth.

At this point my camera battery was not going to come back to life even if I rubbed it between my hands, so I was not able to take pictures of: a droopy camel hump; a rhinoceros' behind and its contents unloading; shivering and diving penguins; a regal lion basking in the sun; a jaguar pacing back and forth, licking its lips while eying two ducks outside of its cage thingie; a wonderful tiger peeing and pacing around; and random primates. Too bad!

Diner coffee!

Last Friday was Matt's last day of work. Emily invited me to his last lunch outing, and since Mordecai and I had no other obligations for lunchtime that day, we went down to Hyde Park and joined them. It was good times.

It was very good. I like the little splotches on the cup.

Emily and I ordered the exact same thing.

I miss these folks!

Pro-Grape

Yesterday I decided to personify my favorite flavor of soda and candy: grape. The boots are from the past, around 1998 or so. I'm not sure why I got them, as I had never been a big fan of purple or pseudo-metallic fabric, and only recall wearing them once back then. A decade later, they've returned to my feet, to gather comments, stares, and one classmate wanting to steal them.

In honor of this outfit, Mordecai took me out to Mr. Sub. I got a hot dog, fries, and Grape Crush. I know Mr. Sub doesn't mess around with grape soda. Afterwards we walked around Logan Boulevard to "exercise" (maybe it counts as "physical therapy"?), but only to collect more calories in the form of coffee and chai tea at the Starbucks on California.

I thought of getting Skittles yesterday to count how many grape Skittles there are in a given bag. I really think they're underrepresented, though I don't have an exact theory of why yet. Instead, my co-TA gave me a grape Dum-Dum he found on the ground somewhere on campus. It was flagged with a quote from John of the Gospel, and it turned out that it was from the peeps at West Loop UBF. Shout out to UBF! (Hi Abe!)

Tulips

I like tulips. Are they available throughout the summer?

TRAGEDY again

I dunno what happened to the straw, so I cut that area with my teeth.

TRAGEDY

I didn't look at that greenish-yellowish sign on the door to see the details of Doggie Diner's fate. Hopefully it was just a fire and it'll take some time to revive the place, and not a total demise of the home of the world's greatest cheese fries.

Eternally 12 Years Old

Good God.

As an official member of Mariah Carey's fan club, Honey B. Fly, I feel obligated to speak on the matters at hand. Let's begin by assuming that they really did get engaged and married. I'm just sort of annoyed at how irrelevant Nick Cannon is. It seems like this whole relationship is just an extension of her slogan, "I'm eternally 12 years old!" which would be eternally sad. But overall, the 11 year age difference, whether or not they had a pre-nuptial agreement--I don't really care. We all know that Mariah Carey is crazy, and hey, as long as she's not linked to Eminem, I'm OK with everything.

But what I really care about is the ring. Let's give Cannon the benefit of the doubt and say that he didn't give Mimi the leftover ring from his previously failed engagement to a Victoria Secret model. I've read reports that the one Mimi was seen sporting recently is a $2.5 million customized Jacob & Co. pink and white diamond, platinum ring. What I'm pissed about is that I'm just a measly fan--I don't even get out of control at concerts and yell, "THIS IS MY SONG!" and start screaming the lyrics throughout her performance. And yet I know that she's got connections to Van Cleef and Arpels; those ridiculous butterfly rings are customized by VC&A. Surely Mr. Cannon must've know her penchant for Van Queefer and Apple jewelery! That's all I'm mad about. Now we just wait and see what official people officially say about all of this.

More recent purchases

For my birthday, Mordecai's parents generously sent me this nifty gift card from Best Buy:

I had some things that I had been meaning to purchase for a while, and I was able to acquire them all at once. It's pretty sweet to hold multiple things in your hands, not having to decide which to sacrifice for a later time.

From left, I got Marie Antoinette; The Police, "The Police"; Lost in Translation; Michael Jackson, "Thriller" (25th Anniversary, Deluxe Edition). My interest in the Police has significantly increased since singing "Next to You" and "Synchronicity II" in Rock Band, so I got some massive Best-Of compilation. And my favorite song by Michael is "Beat It," so I figured if I were to buy my first MJ album it oughta be "Thriller." I like the shiny, holographic cover, and splurged on this edition because it contains an extensive little booklet that may or may not be worth the extra $10. If not, I guess the translucent paper is worth it. Also, the DVD is a little transparent, which is pretty awesome (but the DVD is included in the non-deluxe edition; I'm not sure if that non-deluxe DVD is also sheer-like).

I've seen both Sofia Copolla's movies here, but I hadn't seen them since the theater releases long ago. I'm looking forward to the scenes featuring macaroons in Marie Antoinette. As for Lost In Translation, I've always had mixed feelings about it, and I still do after seeing it again at home. There are many questionable moments that render parts of the movie uninteresting, even bordering on offensive. But I'm always eager to see images of Japan, especially of areas that I have been to, like Shibuya, or of people I've seen on TV who I love, like Matthew Minami (a.k.a. Fujii Takashi). I think the movie was made with the right intentions, even if some of them slipped through the cracks. Overall, I have to say the movie makes me excited for my summer vacation in Japan.

Acid Wash?

I don't really remember when acid wash was big in the 80's or 90's. A lot of people cringe at the re-sight of them, but I don't see anything inherently wrong with it.

["Unisex Mineral Wash Stretch Bull Denim Slim Slack"]

I saw one of the sales attendants at American Apparel wearing these jeans with sneakers, and I didn't find them to be "ironic" or whatever abused adjective it is that people are on these days. But the price tag wasn't all that appealing, even if each pair is uniquely acid washed. I also figured that summer is on its way, so I let this one go. Instead, I focused on something more attainable--the t-shirt. Lately I've been into purple, which has traditionally been a clothing color I considered grandmotherly and thusly avoided. I justify my sudden interest by saying that I'm wearing my favorite Skittles flavor, the underrepresented grape, or my favorite soda flavor. If you didn't know, a hot dog and fries goes best with Fanta Grape. (Welch's Grape needs to step their game up.)

[Pinhead]

It kinda looks dirty, but I think it's a nice change from solid colors or the "Tri-blend"fabric. One thing you will not know about this t-shirt until you've touched it is that it is so soft. I don't know why, if it's the wash, but I could live in this shirt forever. And then it would really smell as dirty as it looks.

Southern Style Chicken Sandwich

Joe wrote about McDonald's latest menu addition, the Southern Style Chicken Sandwich. Inspired, Mordecai texted me this morning suggesting McDonald's drive-thru for lunch. The bun was indeed soft like those of the Filet-O-Fish (but not perfect; it had a little butt crack-like line), and the sandwich was indeed pretty bare inside.


I liked the way Joe's photo exposed Burger King's pathetic breakfast wrap. I've made an effort to expose Southern Style's bareness. But the sandwich itself looked good (I had a American Idol Chicken McNugget Happy Meal), and with a packet of old ketchup lying around in the car, we get a satisfied customer, if not also enthused:

Cubs vs. Mets 2008

While I am normally a White Sox fan, and even though the Cubs destroyed the Mets, I have to say the game today at Wrigley Field was quite enjoyable. Mordecai wanted to see the Mets play in Chicago, and I can never object to a live viewing of Jose Reyes. Further, I have been wholly supportive of the Cubs' acquisition of Kosuke Fukudome and hope he does well with them. Our field trip to Wrigley Field wouldn't have been complete without another Japanese baseball fan, Kota, and our baseball-game-regular (though for Sox games), Matt Hacker.

My camera reduces the blurriness of close-up photos. It also serves as binoculars when we can't figure out who's pitching. Kosuke has a rather boxy body. It reminds me a bit of Domo-kun.

I wish Jose had been beaming his million-dollar smile so my camera's super-zoom could capture it. Instead, I have here his "I'm gonna steal second base for the 209381209381203912nd time" pose.

I can't quite figure out why I don't care for the Cubs despite going to many games during summer day camp (Crayon Campus!), despite going to said day camp with Shawon Dunston's daughters, despite spending many days after school down the street from Wrigley Field (Sanko! Pan Asia!), despite having Ernie Banks' signature addressed to me (BTC!). As of late, I look at that neighborhood with more or less contempt, for its infestation of pseudo-"pub" sports bars and for the despicable vehicular and human traffic the area produces on weekend evenings and game days. But I like going to baseball games, even if I end up paying more attention to the food and nearby roaming fans than the game itself. Today I derived surprising pleasure from wandering around the stadium alone in search of a concession stand that sold Red Rope.

Ideal dinner

My dinner location tonight:

We discovered this Tastee Freeze at California and Armitage at the end of last summer. In honor of today's temperature (70F), I requested a trip here after tonight's American Idol. As we pulled up, I remembered I had a late lunch and only a salad of lettuce, cucumber, and soy nuts before Mariah's performance. So I decided I had room for a side snack and ice cream.

We shared a Snickers Sundae and cheese fries. No one beats Doggie Diner's cheese fries, but I always appreciate the effort by other fast food locations. The bottom of the sundae consisted in chunks of Snickers and caramel, which required digging. It was a little difficult with a sub-par plastic spoon.

For the Record

Mr. Porok handing out candy on Friday!
What's scary is that the stuff on the board looks insane.

I was going to say that I'm getting tired of people writing Mariah Carey's new album as "E=MC2" because at least according to the album cover, the "2" should be a superscript. (It turns out I don't know how to write superscripts in Blogger, but I'm also not a professional journalist covering her album for an official publication.) Obviously, there is a difference between multiplying and squaring something. I had a decent foundation in mathematics, even if I ended up being the only Asian in Mr. Porok's class junior year. Anyway, it turns out that Mariah herself says to MTV that "It's sort of like, the emancipation of Mariah Carey, times two." That was disappointing.

But me and Mariah, we go back like babies and pacifiers. I'm a pretty loyal fan (I was one of the few pathetic souls who went to her Charmbracelet Tour but missed out on her less embarrassing, more successful Rainbow Tour), so I refused to download her album through torrents before the release date. Indeed, I contributed to her beating Elvis as the solo artist with the most #1 singles by purchasing "Touch My Body" on iTunes and downloading it as a ringtone. Today, I watched her "mentor" American Idol contestants on TV, and then I made my mom take me to Target to get her album. I opted to get the "Deluxe Limited Edition" of her CD, which cost a few more dollars. I'm not sure what's so deluxe about it--normally in diners, you get soup or salad and some fries in addition to your sandwich. In this case, you get "an exclusive iPod skin and fold-out poster." They don't mention this on the sticker, mostly because it's pretty obvious, but you also get the now-ubiquitous flimsy cardboard CD case as well.

What am I supposed to do with this creased-ass poster of the cover?

That serves the real purpose of being the lyrics and liner notes sheet?

If I had known the contents of this edition beforehand, I probably would've gotten the original version. The most coveted version of Mariah albums are always the Japanese ones anyway, with all the special bonus tracks. But the experience of breaking the plastic, of digging into the CD case seeking treasures, and then feeling simultaneously duped by the "poster"/lyrics sheet and giddy for the silly iPod skin is priceless.

Toe Cleavage!

Earlier this week, I ordered a pair of pointed flats from the Gap. They are a part of some "European Collection" that is available only through their website. I had a gift card, so I basically paid for one of them. I probably won't get to wear them until after I'm completely healed, but the "limited edition" factor and that they were featured on New York Magazine's "Shop-A-Matic: Spring Shoes" had me on board.

But on Gap's website, or New York Magazine's website, no model, no mannequin, wears the shoes. All I knew about the shoes were that they were two-toned and pointy. I forgot to consider how they would actually fit on a human foot. Generally speaking, this is why we should purchase shoes in person, and not online.

But everything seems fine, and the two tones look kinda cool. I was worried about the pointiness, since I'm not used to that. They're even comfy! Who knew. So far, so good.

But TOE CLEAVAGE?! This seems a bit risqué. What about the children?! I like the shoes enough to get used to it, so it's not a big deal. It was surprising though, and I wish there were pictures of someone wearing the shoes just to know beforehand. Well, now there are such pictures available on the Interwebs. And once I start wearing the shoes, I will have well-aired toes.

Golden Nugget

When Maddi (Mordecai's sister) first started visiting us in Chicago, she remarked that we ate like 12 year olds. I think this was because our dining destinations were something like: Weiner's Circle, Doggie Diner, Arturo's, and Margie's. With or without out of town guests, we still eat out a lot, and a lot of the times we end up at the Golden Nugget on Clark (we've got a good Friday/Saturday waitress here, and this location is somehow more appealing than the one on Diversey, which is a lot closer to us). Tonight I had waffles with some bacon.

Their bacon is so good. It's probably mediocre by "true" bacon standards, whatever that might be. But I ask very little of my bacon-cookers and bacon: it shouldn't be raw or burnt, and it shouldn't be all fatty. Bonus points for shininess.

I also enjoy their crappy cup of coffee. It is typical diner coffee, but I love it. I don't particularly drink coffee at home, and it's largely because the coffee Mordecai makes tastes different, and also because I don't have that cup and saucer. In short, I cannot duplicate the experience of diner coffee, so I don't bother.

Fluffy Day

This morning on the way to school I picked up some McDonald's Hotcakes. They were nice and fluffy. Mordecai suspects they are called "Hotcakes" because they are not made in pans, so cannot be called "Pancakes." Whatever the case, they are not bad.

Before I left for school, my birthday presents from Mordecai arrived. My leg is resting on one of them in the above picture, while I sit in the other. I got a Kapibara-san tissue box holder. I named her Lucy, after the kapibara who appeared on Shimura Ken's animal show. She is so soft and fluffy, even more than my hotcakes. The chair is Philippe Starck's Louis Ghost chair. Mordecai had shown me this chair before, and my interest in it had grown since I saw it in TeenVogue in one of those sections where they revamp someone's bedroom in NYC. It is surprisingly comfortable and just generally awesome.

Carleton and Lucy hang out at my desk.

Ankle Progress

As of last Thursday, my left leg has been liberated from the hot pink cast. I am still bound to crutches, but I now have what is called a Cam Walker brace, which helps me slowly start walking again on my own. It basically looks like a moon boot on steroids; a friend has also dubbed it the "RoboCop Boot." The walker is removable, so it enables me to access my left leg again. This basically means I can wash it and wear my jeans again.

Bathing and wearing jeans are good things, but they don't hide the conspicuousness of the brace. I wonder if most people don't care about this, concerned only about the forthcoming return of their leg's health. But for me, this means the return of my right black Hunter boot! The top of the boot is at the same height as the brace, so there's a little bit of matching going on beyond the color. I'm very glad I didn't pick the hot pink Hunter boots back last fall.

Because my Hunters only work with my jeans or tights, and in order not to live out of those two jeans for the next month, I've ordered some leggings from American Apparel. So I guess in lieu of Avril Lavigne-on-crutches, I'll be rocking a somewhat Lindsay Lohan-on-crutches look.

Japanese Day

Today I got my haircut out in Arlington Heights. I wanted bangs, largely because they had grown out to a half-assed length, getting all up in my face, and thus causing me to often lose my balance on crutches. Also, I've always wanted straight-across bangs. I liken them to the bangs of Shokotan, Fukakyon, "Hana Yori Dango"'s Tsukushi, and Teen Vogue's editor-in-chief Amy Astley (sometimes featured on "The Hills"). I think this kind of hair might be what Joe often cringes at (I recall a reaction to temporary BoA bangs), but I see him only once in a while to play video games, when we all eat and stare at the screen a lot anyway.

The overall length is about the same as before. I'm going to try to grow my hair out, so I can have long hair for a kimono-wedding next summer. As of now, it's the only demand my mom has made of me and my wedding.

We went to Mitsuwa afterwards, and I picked up some comics, Oronamin C (Red Bull but much better, i.e. carbonated), Milky, body wash, and a compact eyelash curler. I did not purchase that St. Patrick's style sushi, pictured above, but I liked how it looked. I actually hate most sushi and wasabi altogether. I am coming down from a Japanese high after having had some family friends rather suddenly visit. I'm supposed to go in June--I hope "free wireless" exists in Japan.

AIC

Brancusi, "Two Penguins," wheelchair, and my Luke hat/bag

Today my dad, Mordecai and I went to the Art Institute. We saw the Homer/Hopper show, the Ed Ruscha exhibit in the photography gallery, and we stopped by Brancusi's penguins before leaving. We got dropped off in the back at Columbus Drive, nabbed me a wheelchair (limited quantities!), and thusly avoided a long line out front to get into the Homer/Hopper show.

The Homer show was alright. The watercolors were nice, but I didn't particularly like the way he depicts people. They almost look like people in Normal Rockwell paintings. There were a couple of great pieces of fish though, one trout and one bass--those was impressive.

I liked the Hopper show more. For some reason, it seems like he was a nice, modest person. The whole section on the city, including "Nighthawks," is especially great to go through. His last painting was also pretty epic, just an empty yellow room with light coming in from the window to the side. I got a postcard of it :D

And then I got a new camera (Canon G9), an early present for my birthday, though unfortunately at Best Buy and not Central Camera. Whee!

Crippled Continued

Last Thursday, after eons of waiting, I was x-rayed and re-casted. The old cast now stands on the piano, and the current cast bears no obscene drawings, or obscene drawings cleverly covered up by Mordecai. I got to see my left leg for the first time in a month, and it was pretty gross. Both sides of the ankle are somehow bruised, and my leg is tiny and limp. It was gross gross gross, but kind of funny too.

This picture doesn't really convey the sadness of my leg--my foot just look a little puffy. In two weeks, I get a "Cam Walker," some boot-like thing that straps on with velcro in the front. It looks considerably heavier and a bit robotic. Seeing my leg didn't really make me excited about walking again. I've been getting chauffeured by my parents and Mordecai, and if something isn't within my reach, someone, usually Mordecai, gets it for me. Tomorrow, Mordecai, my dad and I are going to the Art Institute, and I am going to try to get a wheelchair. Wheee!!!

Squishy

I really love squishy fries, especially from McDonald's (above). This works out well with Mordecai, because he likes crispy fries, so we often take a few seconds to trade. I also love McDonald's Coke, and had Joe not pointed out McDonald's Coke's awesomeness, I would've totally taken it all for granted. I'm not sure what it is--extra but the perfect amount of carbonation, precise Coke flavoring? But now every time I have Coke at McDonald's, I make a point to say to myself, "Damn, this is some good Coke."

Also pictured are what I call my Avril Lavigne nails. Basically, they matched my cast. But true to Avril Lavigne, they really started looking tasteless as they chipped away, so I switched to a paler, frosty, more girly, less "punky," pink. I think my cast and broken ankle themselves are more "punk" than anything about Avril. But her song "Sk8r Boi" will always have a place in my heart.

Fractured!

If it isn't one inconvenient health issue, it's another! This seems to be the motto of my life. Or the other motto is, You've been living in Chicago for a long time now; aren't you used to these winters?! I'd totally be dead by now if this were the 19th century.

Scene of Evil

On Schubert and Troy near my house, there is an Evil Human who makes a lot of money by renting out tons of units to tons of people. In the summer time, their untrimmed bushes grow empty cans of beer. In the winter, Evil Human doesn't shovel snow on the sidewalk it's responsible for, so the snow gets trampled on, it turns into water, it freezes over multiple times, and it never gets any direct sunlight. I guess I was feeling sort of immortal Monday morning, and I came to Evil Block, thinking I could get across without a problem. And then I did it--I slipped and "fell funny on my leg." I even heard a crunching sound!

Panda pants courtesy of Maddi

So my left ankle (my non-drumming, non-piano-pedaling ankle) is fractured. I was afraid they were going to have to cut up my Hunter boots and my favorite gray jeans, but I only lost a sock overall. I was in a bootleg temporary cast from Monday until this afternoon, and now I have a heavy but fashionable hot pink cast on my left ankle. Apparently, surgery is a common necessity to fix broken ankles, but I don't seem to need it. Three people have already mentioned pins and crap being stuck in your bones for that. Sick! I didn't even know surgery was a possibility--I had been in blissful oblivion for three days.

Come sign my cast!

When I was young, I always looked at other kids on crutches with a little envy. Doesn't it kinda look like fun? It isn't so hard walking in crutches, but it turns out that continuing to walk in them for even a short distance is exhausting. By the time this is all over, I'm going to have one skinny ankle, a weak left foot, a weak left calf, a really strong left quadricep, a strong right leg, and buff arms. The funny thing is, I'm going to be in better shape now than my pre-crippled days (can I say that?).

Beverly Hills, 90210

For most of January, Mordecai and I watched Seasons 1 and 2 of the TV series "Twin Peaks." I don't remember the show running in the 90's, and I hadn't heard of it until Mordecai told me about it a couple years back. But like the feeling I get from completing Phoenix Wright games, I feel loss and emptiness after it's all over. What now? I ask.

Leo wants to know what next, too. He's got spiders on his face, Shelly on his mind.

A couple weekends ago, I came across a used but near-perfect copy of Season 1 of "Beverley Hills, 90210" at Reckless Records. I know Jenni raves a lot about 90210, but the thing about 90210 and myself is that I was too young to understand the contents of the show. Not only was I too young, but I was also probably a little too foreign, and I wonder if the English went by quickly. I think for these reasons among others, my mom didn't care whether I watched the show or not.

So now, I seize the opportunity to fully comprehend what exactly went down in Beverley Hills, 90210, starting with Season 1 (Season 4 is supposed to come out this April; there were a total of 10 seasons!), which originally aired in 1990-91. Some of the outfits and vocabulary are just too much to bear! I like how the girls' styles are consistent--Brenda reps a conservative Midwest look, Kelly is classic, and Donna is WHACK. One of the cool things about the show is that you're supposed to see teenagers, but really, you have a bunch of 20-somethings and near-30 year olds hanging around open lockers gripping binders with about four sheets of loose-leaf paper in them. Oh, how I looked up to binders so much in early grade school. Don't even get me started on Trapper Keepers.

"Can I buy you a drink or something? Oh come on, I'm a nice guy!"

How come no one told me that Brenda dates REX MANNING in the pilot!?!? His name is actually "Jason," a 25 year old lawyer, but his apartment screams, "Rex Manning! Say no more, mon amour...lips are for kissing, baby je t'adore!"