Peanuts and Crackerfans

What another great weekend here in Chicago. Chris's dad, Bob, came to town for Father's Day and showed us quite the time. We ate too much food, drank way too much wine and ended it last night at Wrigley Stadium for a little Sunday night baseball. Baseball games are pretty fun, they're very relaxing. I felt quite nostalgic at Wrigley as we all sang Take Me Out to the Ball Game together rocking back and forth eating our cracker jacks and peanuts. It reminded me of my brief softball stint when I was younger. But then that damn Kit had to go and get traded to another team ruining my shot at winning the big game. Back then it truly was a league of our own. Although the only thing I was ever good at was running the bases. I couldn't hit the ball, couldn't throw it further than ten feet, and I was usually too distracted in the outfield doing kart wheels and making grass bracelets to catch the rare fly ball that came my way. It didn't take long for me to figure out that if I was playing outfield as a ten year old that was no good. Everyone knows first base and short stop are the two coolest positions. I was only on the team because my aunt's restaurant "Ricardos" sponsored us and paid for our T- Shirts.

One of the highlight's of the night was when I happened to witness a distracted 15 year old boy accidentally walk into the ladies restroom. I watched in delight as the boy wondered into the bathroom while texting away on his phone not paying any attention. Didn't take him more than a second to hustle out all embarrassed and red faced. Oh the shame of walking into the wrong bathroom, you can only know what I'm talking about if you've done it before (unknowingly.) Purposely peeing in the other bathroom in a gas station or bar is completely different story. I've done it only once, but I'll never forget the humiliation when I walked into the boys bathroom at the Johnny Carson theatre in third grade at an elementary music concert. That shame has left its mark. Of course I didn't see anything, no one ever does, but it doesn't matter. It's a different world in bathrooms. Seeing a man at the sink instead of woman is like seeing the Terminator in their washing his hands. It's terrifying and I don't know why. I guess bathrooms are just shameful places in general if you think about it. It's why people are terrified to go #2 in public, PPP, public pooping phobia. Oh God maybe if I flush enough no one will hear, God forbid anyone know what I'm doing in this stall, it's just far too humiliating if the person next to me knows, and I better make it quick, because there's a line, and I'd hate for the person next to me to know anything, whatever happens they have to think I just peed, so I better do this fast and quiet, in and out, gotta make it quick or I'll just die. And then there's the shame of someone walking in on you, at which point both people typically fumble out apologies at fast as possible for the fear and embarrassment of just seeing a complete stranger in their most vulnerable state. I'm sorry! No, I'm sorry! I didn't know! Me neither! It's fine! It just didn't lock so I was trying to hold it with my knee, didn't you see my foot sticking out? I stuck it out on purpose so people would know it's occupied! Wonder when we all got so modest and got away from the preschool habits of peeing with the door open, or going into a stall two at a time. But enough of that, I could go on about potty stigmas all day.

Back to Saturday night, Chris and I went out on a street that reminded me a lot of downtown Lincoln. Only because everybody was absolutely shitfaced walking around looking for food, girls were squating on the sidewalks crying or texting or looking for more food. It's weird at first going out in a new place with new people, we were the outsiders. For starters we had to stand in line to get in. I'm not a fan of that. And then inside the bartenders would serve the people they knew first, which wasn't us. People were drunkenly dancing and singing in a circle, but I wasn't in that circle. I watched with sad eyes knowing that I was the weird Iquanas patron who stumbled into the Rail. So Chris and I took shots to ease our sadness. We found the people we knew and tried to assimilate ourselves into this new Chicago crowd, which after a couple of drinks and Goldy shots I think we did quite nicely.

I'm still recovering a little bit today. I'm supposed to be heading to Nebraska either Tuesday or Wednesday via car because I'm bringing Harlow back for the fourth of July, but I fear the flooding is standing in my way. I'm not happy about this. Why doesn't the water just go away, I don't get it. Can't someone just Shamwow it or something. Or better yet, why hasn't anyone taken cue from Inspector Gadget already and created the car that turns into a boat with the flip of a switch? By hell or high water I'm gonna find a way.