Gina's RantSpot

If you're in the city of Chicago, remember to put your new sticker on your car. This is the day that you will start getting tickets and they probably cost more than the sticker itself.

My favorite quote of the day: (Context -- I was asking a male friend's opinion as to whether or not I should cut my hair) "You marry a woman, she has kids and then she gets a mom haircut and turns into a pear. It's false advertising. I want my money back!"

You know who you are, and you're funny as hell.

Oh, and for those who don't know, no, I'm not married, and I also have no children. And for the record, I've since changed my mind about cutting my hair.

By the way . . . you see that little link to the left underneath my profile that says Review My Site? Please review my blog, if you have time (and something nice to say). It draws more folks in.

Danke schoen!

AND a congrats to Amy R., who I hear is sporting QUITE the rock on her left hand these days. I can't wait to see it!

The column dropped today! Check it out!!

On another note, my eye and the contact lens are comingling quite swimmingly, and I've learned that a nice hot compress can help things out tremendously.

The good news is that a publishing company MIGHT be interested in reissuing my book, but I have to make some changes. I don't care about the changes. I'm not one of those writers that's in love with every word I write and insistent that things must be printed exactly the way I've written them. I love the thought of having input and creative suggestion. At least that's what I say NOW. Talk to me in about six months and see if I'm still positive.

I haven't been feeling very creative lately, so this might be the project I need to jumpstart my creative passion once again. The bad part is that I've had a lot of unbridled creative energy, but haven't been in the mood to give it a voice. I don't know if it's had to do with health issues or stress, but whatever it is, it's the true definition of writer's block. Or maybe I should be a corporate person again. Who knows? I'm conflicted today, obviously.

But the good news is that the weather's great here in the beautiful city of Chicago. Now if they would only stop construction . . .

Okay, vanity wins. The contacts are in. I'll let you know if my eyeball falls out.

I've become obsessed with my eye, which I'm sure has a lot to do with being under-worked recently. I can become obsessed with a lot of things when my little brain doesn't have enough to do. Anyhoo . . . my eye looks a little bit better today, even though I was told that it was going to look worse before it gets better. Encouraging. I've been wracking my brain trying to remember an incident that would have caused the broken blood vessels. I don't remember a strong bout of coughing or sneezing or straining to lift anything recently. I guess it's just going to have to be one of my mysteries of life.

Another mystery of my life has to do with jewelry. I don't know what it is about me and earrings, but I'm thinking that perhaps we don't get along. First of all, if you don't know me, I'm probably the most underaccessorized person you'll ever meet. I'm a disgrace to my mother, who is always accessorized to the nines. My friend Larissa is always wearing at least 5 pieces of jewelry at all times. She makes pretty little jangly noises when she moves and I can always hear her coming. I'm the complete opposite, and it amazes her that I can walk out of the house without earrings, necklaces, bracelets, scarves, hats, gloves, or any other garment that isn't absolutely necessary. That said, my jewelry collection could fit into a paper cup.

Lately I've been trying to keep earrings on, because I also hate looking at unoccupied holes in earlobes. The earrings, however, don't seem to want to stay on me. I swear I must have lost about 10 earrings in the last year, and because I always think I'll find the match while doing laundry, I now have an annoying assortment of mismatched earrings in the paper cup that is my jewelry box. Maybe I'll attach them with a staple gun the next time.

On another note, I'm taking a poll . . . does anyone think it's weird to go to a concert alone?

Saw my optometrist today who told me that my eye infection isn't really an infection. Apparently I had a coughing fit, or a sneezing fit, or lifted something that was too heavy. Whatever I did, it resulted in bursting blood vessels in my eye, and making them look ever so attractive. And to make me look even more attractive than I already do, she suggests that I continue to wear my glasses for a few days. Yippee!

I'm pissed. I got a parking ticket this afternoon FIVE minutes after the meter expired. All I can say is that I would hate to be a meter maid. Nobody's ever happy to see you, you have to wear those horrible orange vests and/or sashes, you have no real police authority, and you have the potential to get into several arguments a day with irascible people (like myself).

This explains why meter maids and those penny ante traffic cops that lurk around during rush hour are the most miserable sour pusses on the face of this planet. They don't smile. They have no reason to smile. Because they know they're bringing sadness and distress to the lives that they touch during the day, and putting more revenue in the hands of the city, who clearly doesn't know what to do with it. Whatever the city does with it, these ticket-writers know that they're not going to see any of it, so they're just thankless agents of doom.

The next time that any of you feel like your job is depressing and thankless, be happy! You could be a meter maid. And if you are a meter maid . . . well . . . sucks to be you. And I mean that in the nicest possible way.

I'm falling apart! I woke up the other day with a nasty eye infection. It looks like my eye is bleeding, and I'm sure it's contact lens-related, which sucks because I HATE my glasses. Between my back and my eyes, I'm feeling pretty impaired right about now.

My clients are quiet, which is a problem for me from a time perspective. I'm definitely one of those people who needs to be busy or else I'll drive all of my friends crazy with my restless energy. So, I'm actively trying to find new projects and things to involve myself in . . . that make money. Gotta be productive. I suppose I could just enjoy the time off and lounge around all day and party all night, but those behavior patterns lead to a few professions, and since being a crack ho isn't my aspiration, I'd better get on the ball.

On another note, I went to see my dad play this weekend, and encountered a bachelorette party. It was muy amusing. First of all, these girls were BIG, and I don't mean fat, I mean tall. Some of them were verging on 6'2". Or maybe it was their hair. They all had big hair. The bride was wearing a veil with little plastic penises glued all over it. Our group was trying to figure out a few things:
1) Where they were from
2) How old they were
3) Whether they bought or made that veil
4) Why, Why, WHY they chose Navy Pier as a bachelorette party destination.

We decided to guess. For question #1, two us guessed Indiana (myself included), and one guessed Naperville, one guessed Schaumburg. For question #2, we figured that these girls were a maximum of 24. Question #3 was a scary one, because I didn't want to believe that penis-laden veil has an actual SKU and bar code, nor do I want to imagine a bunch of foofy amazonians sitting around a table with a hot glue gun, white netting, and a bag of plastic dicks. One of the members of my group was mortified that she wore the "Johnson veil" knowing that children would be around. That hadn't occurred to me (being the child-sensitive chick that I am -- NOT). I was more outraged by its tackiness. I decided to leave that one alone. As for #4, we figured that they didn't know where to go in the city, so they chose a destination with a ferris wheel.

I, at least, got the definite answer to #2. When they walked past, I congratulated the bride and asked where they were from. And they weren't JUST from Indiana, they were from SOUTHERN Indiana. Yee-haw! :-)

The night definitely got better when I went to a bar to visit a friend and a random patron complimented me on my underwear, which he had to be looking down my pants to see (since I'm not usually one to do the intentional thong show). Afterwards, driving home, I was stuck in my own personal hell. At 2:00 am, I was caught in a strange chasm of bike riders. There were hundreds of them driving through the city, causing traffic to be blocked off and testing the reflexes of the club crowd. It dawned on me that there's an annual midnight bike tour through Chicago. These bikers are serious. They've taken the time, energy and hard earned cash and invested in attractive helmets complete with headlights. They should have joined forces with the bachelorette parties. I'm sure the peenie veil would have looked fetching underneath a construction helmet.

Happy Monday!!!