Dirty Sexy Money Returns... Kind Of

Since I used to follow Dirty Sexy Money and have covered it before on this blog (here, here, here... and here), I figured I should let any other fans of this soapy series know that ABC will be airing its final four episodes this summer... starting tonight.

That's all there is since the series was canceled, but at least we'll get some closure... which is better than nothing, I suppose. I have a feeling that the finale is going to be totally ridiculous, but since the only other thing I'm watching this summer is NYC Prep, "ridiculous" is all relative. Anyway, if you want to see how DSM ends, set your Tivos!

(By the way, for sci-fi/fantasy fans who may be interested, I've also been advised by several people to Tivo Torchwood: Children of Earth on BBC America, its premiere is on the 20th. There's been nothing but awesome buzz on this one so I'm willing to give it a shot.)

Bad Purchases

Every time I prepare to do the laundry, I get annoyed. Not from the actual task of doing the laundry (though that's certainly not my favorite thing in the world), but rather from the constant reminder of how I wasted money on a crappy sweater from Gap. This black sweater has been at the bottom of my dirty-clothes hamper for months at this point. The reason I can't wash it is because it has to be laid out flat to dry, and there's just really no place in my condo to do that, unless I don't mind whatever's on the floor getting covered in dog hair.

Perhaps if it was actually a nice-looking sweater I would find a way to make the air-drying work (I could probably lay it on a towel on top of the counter or something). But it's kind of pointless now, because it's all pilly and fuzzy and looks like I've had it for twenty years. It's made of some weird acrylic/wool/polyester/spandex blend and basically started breaking down after the first time I wore it.

The thing is, I knew this was going to be a bad purchase... so why did I buy it? I have no idea. I guess I wanted a black sweater and thought this one would be a fast, quick and relatively cheap option. So -- as with the unflattering gaucho pants of 2007 and the sky-high-what-was-I-thinking-I'm-going-to-break-my-ankle brown heels of 2008 -- I just need to donate my black sweater to charity and be done with it.

I gave it a proper funeral (as you can see from the picture in this post), so now I no longer have to be annoyed by Crappy Black Gap Sweater. May it find a nice home with someone who has the patience to shave the pills off of it and lay it out flat to dry time and time again, because that person is certainly not me.

Another Successful Taste of Chicago Visit

The Taste of Chicago food festival has come and gone from The Windy City once more, and I still don't think my digestive system has fully recovered. This year Nerdy P was not able to join me like she has the past several years (do you recall our '06 and '07 adventures?), but my husband's parents were in town and so it was fun to go with people who had never experienced the craziness before.

Those of you following me on Twitter already know the bizarre combination of meats, starches and desserts I downed this year... but are the rest of you ready for the list? Well here it is... I had: a slice of deep-dish spinach pizza, three skewers of sesame beef, a slice of garlic cheese bread, a HUGE piece of Baklava (forgot to mention that one on Twitter), two mini-brownies and a ton of chocolate-covered caramel corn. No, I did not throw up at any point that day -- over the years I must have developed a stomach of steel! (Which, unfortunately, is very different from Abs of Steel.)




While it wasn't as hot as it's been in past years, I did end up getting freakishly sunburned on my arms, which I'm very bitter about as 1) I was carrying sunscreen in my bag but forgot to put it on, and 2) I won't be able to wear anything but long-sleeved shirts until these weird patterns fade. Grr.

Despite the sunburns, we did have a great time at the festival. The low point was seeing the scary dummy I wrote about a few days ago.

Actually, after I published that post I realized that I never mentioned how completely ridiculous it was that the guy controlling that evil-looking puppet was hidden behind a makeshift shelter. I mean, isn't the whole point of having a dummy to make it look like he's really the one talking when you're sitting next to him? I guess whoever was in the black shack had absolutely no ventriloquial (yes, that's a word, I looked it up) skills. He just wanted to haunt everyone's dreams for the rest of eternity.

If he's there next year I'm going to bust down his hideout and shoo him away. Unless The Frozen S'more returns (it wasn't there this year), then I'll be too busy stuffing my face with those.

My Second Worst Nightmare

Back in January I wrote about my worst nightmare, zombies on the loose. This past weekend at the Taste of Chicago I unfortunately realized what my Worst Nightmare Runner-Up would be: evil clowns, dolls and dummies on the loose.

Allow me to explain. From afar this ventriloquist's booth didn't look too disturbing. Or at least I figured it couldn't be that scary since there were little kids crowded around the set-up.


Since the dummy was turned away from me and I saw his pretty normal-looking Howdy Doody friend sitting off to the side on the ground, I moved closer.


Still not really focusing on the dummy's face, I read his sign, which said, "For a quarter (or change) I will tell you a joke or take a picture with ya."

Then I took a good look at the tiny mannequin's mug. Mistake! I was absolutely horrified. I mean seriously, who creates a dummy that looks like this?


Forget Chucky, this guy is evil!

Needless to say, I didn't sleep well that night. At first I thought it was from all the food I ate at the festival (more on that some other time), but now I realize that I was obviously haunted by the face above. And tonight you will be, too. Aren't you glad I shared it with you?

(On a related note, only a few minutes ago it hit me that perhaps this dummy was meant to look like Michael Jackson, what with the hat, outfit, white socks and all (though they must have been fresh out of stock at the sequined glove store). That's no way to pay your respects, Mr. Ventriloquist!)

Eric Clapton and Steve Winwood at the United Center

As I sat listening to Eric Clapton and Steve Winwood play at the United Center last week, I started planning out what I might say about the show for this blog entry. But a lot of the descriptions and phrasing that ran through my mind seemed familiar -- like I'd already written the exact same things before. Lo and behold, after searching through my 'A to e' posts I found that I did in fact write about a Clapton concert back in 2006. Sometimes it is really unnerving to have such an awful memory.

Anyway, while three years ago I saw Clapton by himself and he played a lot of his most popular songs, this time around he reunited with his Blind Faith bandmate Steve Winwood and they focused on old blues standards. This probably made anyone who appreciates "good music" and/or superior guitar-playing really happy, but I was sorely disappointed. Over the course of about two and a half hours, I only knew two Clapton songs: 'After Midnight' and the slow, acoustic version of 'Layla' (which I don't like nearly as much as the original version). I kind of recognized 'Forever Man,' and then covers of 'Georgia on My Mind' and 'Sweet Home Chicago' were the only other tunes I was familiar with that evening. That equates to five songs I knew in 150 minutes!

The legendary Buddy Guy came out for the encore and sang along to 'Sweet Home Chicago' and then helped draw the show to a close with 'Drowning on Dry Land' (the entire set list is here, if you're interested). I've seen Buddy pop up at a few other concerts before (like with John Mayer at the Taste of Chicago in 2007) and he always steals the show. Clapton and Winwood's voices were cracking and fading a bit and I chalked it up to the fact that they're both in their sixth decade, but then along comes Buddy Guy, who's 72) and blows them both out of the water with his loud, commanding, powerful-as-ever pipes.

Although I'm probably giving off the impression that I didn't enjoy the show, let me be clear that I did -- I simply wish that more of the Clapton and Winwood songs I know and love had been played. Hell, the concert was free, we had box seats, and I got an awesome chocolate and caramel-covered apple from the infamous "dessert cart" on top of getting to relax for once, so I'm not complaining.

And even though Steve Winwood played absolutely none of his solo hits from the '80s, this concert helped remind me of all of them, and so the next day I downloaded 'Valerie,' 'Back in the High Life Again,' 'Roll With It,' 'Higher Love,' 'The Finer Things' and 'Don't You Know What the Night Can Do' -- a song which I absolutely loved back in the day but had completely forgotten about -- from iTunes.

Since I didn't get to hear DYKWTNCD live, the next best thing is its video from 1988, so I'll leave you with that. Extra points to anyone who can remember the Michelob commercial set to this song in that same year!

The Best Stain Remover for Slobs

I have a pseudo-confession to make: I'm no domestic goddess. That's only a pseudo-confession because everyone who knows me is already very much aware of this fact. If I wasn't so lazy I might take and upload a few pictures of the mess that is my condo right now for proof. But since I have no motivation to get off of my chair, find my camera and then snap photos of my "work space" (read: kitchen table) you're just going to have to believe me.

Here's how I roll: unless someone comes to visit or there's a major catastrophe that requires an immediate clean-up, this place pretty much does not get dusted, vacuumed, or sprayed/scrubbed down in any way, shape or form.

My lack of knowledge and interest in all things housekeeping is probably why I didn't learn about Fels-Naptha miracle soap until a few months ago. I was at my Aunt Sue's house and was worrying aloud that I might have ruined one of my favorite tops because of yet another spill (did I mention I'm really clumsy?). She busted some Fels-Naptha out of her linen closet and told me to use it on my shirt before throwing it in the wash -- she guaranteed the stain would come out.

Lo and behold, it worked. And it has since annihilated some other really nasty stains. Who would've ever guessed that this cheap, unassuming bar of yellow soap is way more effective than all of the high-tech intensely marketed whiz-bang sprays and sticks lining grocery market and convenience store shelves?

Since my aunt gave me her bar, I'm not really sure where you can buy it and test it out for yourself if you're curious. I did some quick research online and it seems like it's pretty hard to find in physical stores nowadays -- but Ace Hardware may carry it.

What I do know is that I'm totally sold on this stuff. On a related note, I was really worried that it would cause some sort of allergic reaction because my skin is ultra-sensitive and will revolt if the wind so much as blows on me the wrong way. But I haven't had any problems with FN so far -- though granted, I just rub it into a lather on the stained clothing item, it's not like I'm doing anything to add it into the mix of my normal detergent. (And for the record, I am aware that FN is not to be used as a normal soap for the face or body.)

Now that I'm near the end of this post, the realization hit me that everyone and their brother probably already knows about Fels-Naptha, and therefore you're most likely all laughing at the fact that I just caught on to this decades-old household staple. But what can I say? I'm excited that I don't have to keep tossing all of my stained clothes into the trash any longer. (I truly am that messy -- it's a problem.)

The Wearable Towel: The Next Snuggie

I hardly ever watch live TV, so I didn't hear about the Snuggie phenomenon until after its infomercials had been on the air for months. And if it hadn't been for some downtime during a vacation last year, I wouldn't have ever known about the ShamWow. (I also was introduced to The Aqua Globes during that same trip.)

But now there's a new phenomenon hitting the nation, and I'm happy that I learned about this one right away. Recently I was at my parents' house, the TV was on, and I caught the ad for The Wearable Towel. If you haven't seen it yet, here it is:

My knee-jerk reaction was "I want one." But upon watching the commercial again, now I'm embarrassed that I ever considered paying $20 for such a ridiculous invention. Why in the hell do I need to run around the house in a towel with armholes in it? When I get out of the shower, I dry off and immediately get dressed. And if for some reason I don't want to put on an outfit right away, there's this little thing called A ROBE that works wonders.

Maybe I'm in the minority and there are a ton of people out there who keep their towels wrapped around them for a significant period of time after they bathe. So if they want to use The Wearable Towel in the privacy of their bathroom while they're getting ready, fine. But the ad had to go one step further and show people casually sauntering down their driveways to pick up the newspaper in this ridiculous toga-looking contraption. And don't even get me started on the preposterous "beach scenes."

If I see someone in a bright red terrycloth towel along the shores of Lake Michigan this summer, I am going to go up to them and ask if I can take a picture of them and post it on my blog because I think what they're wearing is soooooo trendy, cool and futuristic. And then we can all have a good laugh at their expense.

The Mysterious Purple Blob

Over the past few months, I've been saving up post ideas for this long-neglected site and have a bunch of fun topics that I plan to write about now that Lost has ended its fifth season. But I realized last night that -- as things are still really busy for me over the next few weeks -- I shouldn't kill myself by trying to publish any of the longer pieces in the near term. So I'm going to ease back into my daily "According to e" schedule with short, but hopefully still interesting, commentary about really random stuff.

Which brings me to one of the many road trips to Michigan that my husband and I took earlier this year. We usually stop at Arby's if we have to choose between any of the fast-food options (mmm, curly fries), but for whatever reason, on this particular journey we pulled into a McDonald's drive-through for the first time in a long time. With our order we were each given a tiny bag of McDonaldland cookies.

I have not had McDonaldland cookies in forever. In fact, I wasn't even aware that they were still on the Golden Arches' menu -- and maybe they're not. Maybe the bonus bags they doled out for free were made of all of the leftover cookies once the product was discontinued or something. Who knows... but what struck me as I ate the little shortbread treats was that I had no idea what Grimace -- the bloblike creature featured on one of the cookies -- was. I guess when I was younger I thought that he was supposed to represent a milkshake or something -- those drinks were kind of purplish and certainly would be kind of blobby if you poured one out of its container.

So I decided to do some quick research and found out that not only is Grimace simply an "anthropomorphic purple being" rather than a milkshake, but he was also once a bad guy in McDonald's commercials way back in the day. He also used to rock four arms!?! Here's proof:

As time went on, I guess somebody realized that the shapeless character would work better as one of Ronald's goofy friends. Here's how I remember Grimace:



Wow, I totally forgot about the pirate Captain Crook who would steal Filet-o-fish sandwiches! (He's shown at the very end of the commercial, sitting at the table on the left.) And I definitely have no memory of that crazy professor dude. Watching these commercials as an adult, I'm now pretty sure that everyone involved in creating the McDonaldland characters was taking some serious drugs.

Finally, I learned that Grimace has a crazy Irish uncle who tended to pop up whenever it was Shamrock Shake promotion time. His name is Uncle O'Grimacey... no lie.



I'm happy to have learned that Grimace is nothing more than a big purple globule who happens to like milkshakes... but now I want some answers about Ronald McDonald himself. Who ever thought that a scary-looking clown would make a good mascot for a kid-friendly hamburger chain? I've never seen a not-horrifying version of Ronald. I think Evil Grimace needs to resurface, kidnap Ronald and hide him away in a cave. Down with clowns!

But I Don't WANT to be Reincarnated

Last weekend I was home in Michigan to celebrate my dad's retirement. One of the gifts he received was a book about making the most out of this next phase of his life. I flipped through it and paused at a section that discussed how many people have to come to terms with their fear of dying once they stop working, as "getting older" and "retirement" obviously go hand in hand.

The authors said that they have psychologist friends who have helped thousands of people get over their hang-ups about death through the power of hypnosis. They explained that these thousands of patients often speak about their past lives while in a trance-like state. I can only assume their point was that once you realize death may not be "the end of everything," but rather just one experience in a never-ending loop of lives, you're more likely to stop worrying about kicking the bucket and start enjoying your golden years.

However, I had exactly the opposite reaction. I don't think I'd want to live any more lives. Don't get me wrong -- I actually believe in the concept of reincarnation... it's just that I'm not sure I like it. Let me be very blunt: if you're reading this web site, that means 1) you can read (duh) and 2) you have access to a computer that's connected to the Internet. That puts you in a very, very small percentage of the earth's living population. Odds are, if you come back as someone else, you're not going to have it so good. In fact, compared to what you've got going on right now, your future life is probably going to be pretty darn crappy.

So thanks for thoroughly freaking me out, retirement book! I've got a few more decades until my husband and I can stop working, and now I get to spend them fretting about coming back as some unlucky soul without a supportive family, wonderful friends and a cool dog.

Great. Just great.

- e

Look at That Face!

As some of you know, I was in Las Vegas recently. This time around, my husband and I stayed with our good friends, DP and LHP. They have an absolutely beautiful home, but the king of their castle is clearly their English bulldog, Bruno. We'd gotten to know Bruno before he moved out west with his family last year, and the warmer temperatures seem to be agreeing with him. You can tell from his smile that he's thinking, "I am one lucky dog!"


That one big tooth that sticks out just absolutely kills me!

Anyway, Bruno had me laughing all weekend, but his most interesting quirk is that it is nearly impossible to get him to go outside to go to the bathroom. And I don't mean that he isn't house-trained... he is. He just simply doesn't want to be bothered to go out to do his business.

I was absolutely stunned to see D and L commanding him over and over again to go #1 in their backyard before we headed out on the town for the night. If we so much as rattle my dog's leash or whisper the word "outside" within earshot, he starts jumping around like a freak... and he pees approximately every ten seconds once he's out of the house. But Bruno? Nope, he was having none of it. He would just stand there and do nothing, peering up at his owners with a look of defiance, challenging them to somehow make him go pee. It was unbelievable. As you can see from the picture below, he's gotten pretty good at holding his ground.


Lest you get the impression that Bruno is simply lazy or doesn't want to move around too much, I should probably mention that he gets into lively battles with his brother Jack (a spry cat), will run all around the place chasing his toys, and will back his behind into you so that you can scratch it as soon as you sit down. But for whatever reason, he may be the only dog on the planet that doesn't feel the need to, uh, make his mark every time he's outside. That's just how he rolls, I guess!

- e

Pirates: Real and Fake

While in Aruba last month, I was looking out at the Caribbean Sea from a pier-turned-bar when this cool boat pulled up to dock.



I was pretty excited by its name, of course...



However, believe it or not, I didn't end up purchasing a ticket to sail with The Jolly Pirates. It's just better for everyone if I purposefully avoid situations where I'm bound to get seasick. 'Cause that's not very pirate-like.

Fortunately for me, there's another way I can live out my pirate fantasies... on land, and here in Chicago. When my husband and I were leaving the city a few weekends ago, I was almost too stunned by what I saw draped over The Field Museum to take a picture. (Luckily, traffic was moving slowly so I recovered before it was too late.)



Yes... I kid you not, there is currently an 8,400-square-foot exhibition called "Real Pirates" just a few minutes away from me. Its web site promises that I'll "get the chance to experience pirate life by hoisting the skull-and-crossbones, tying pirate knots, learning how to fire a cannon, and more."

This is almost too good to be true. You can bet that I will be going to this exhibit at some point before it ends in October... and you can also bet that, if allowed, I will take pictures of me acting a pirate fool while there. And then of course I'll post them here so you can all laugh at me.

But it will be a jealous laughter... don't deny it.

- e

Pet Peeve of the Week: Phone Book Deliveries

As you could probably guess from the lack of entries on this site over the last month or so, I've been pretty busy. The good news is that I now have a long list of things I want to write about, so I hope to return to a semi-regular posting schedule soon. And what better way is there for me to get back into the old swing of things than to complain about something?

About a half hour ago, I was heading home from the vet with my sick (again) dog, and what did I see but a huge truck parked outside a nearby apartment complex, and two guys taking out stacks and stacks of new telephone books to drop off at each entryway.

Now, I don't know how it is where you live, but here in Chicago it seems like we get two HUGE phone books -- the yellow pages and the white pages -- about every other month. Thankfully, people on my block now have a recycling program, so I'm hoping that everyone's making use of it when they chuck out their old phone books. But that doesn't change the fact that a ton of paper's being wasted and countless trees are being mowed down to print these directories in the first place. I seriously don't remember the last time I cracked open a phone book... I just Google-search any place I want to eat or visit or whatnot, and up pops its address, phone number and (most likely) web site URL.

Do you still use and phone book, and if so, why, for the love of God, WHY?!?

Everyone's talking about the death of newspapers and the decline of printed media, yet there's no end in sight for these freakin' twenty-pound monsters. Why are they still being printed in such quantity and with such frequency?

Unlike junk mail or telemarketing calls, I don't know of any way to "unsubscribe" from getting the phone book. So I guess for now I'll continue to build a bit of arm muscle every time I take one from my doorstep to the recycling bin in the back.

My Worst Nightmare

It's a good thing I don't live in Austin. I'm a bad enough driver as it is, but if I had seen this sign during my morning commute, I would've surely caused an accident (you don't even really need to play the video):

Apparently someone hacked into Austin's roadworks system and changed the electronic billboard that usually posts traffic advisories. A spokeswoman from the city said, "Even though this may seem amusing to a lot of people, this is really serious."

Damn straight it's serious!!!

Now when the zombies DO attack, no one's going to pay attention to the warnings. Didn't this hacker ever hear about "the boy who cried wolf?" I hope the person responsible realizes what he or she has done. The zombies totally have an edge in Texas now.

- e

e's Favorite Things: The Thera Cane

This should come as no surprise to Lost fans and readers of Long Live Locke, but over the past week I've been spending an unhealthy amount of time in front of my laptop. In fact, since I last posted here on 'According to e,' pretty much all I've been doing is writing.

The good news is that my back and shoulders are no longer suffering (as much) because of the ten physical therapy sessions I've completed since December. I've learned to be conscious of both my posture and how I tend to tense up throughout the day. I'm armed with tons of stretches and weight-bearing exercises to help build my scrawny upper body muscles. And perhaps most importantly, I now have the Thera Cane.

Everyone who's seen this thing in my apartment has been like, "What the HELL is that?" But once they experience the wonder that is the Thera Cane, they are jealous and want one, too. Basically it is a strange-looking device that helps banish tight knots in your back (or elsewhere, I guess, but I just use it on my back).

At my last PT session I asked my therapist if she had any recommendations for things I could buy to use at home to help ease the pain of when I inevitably do something to pull a back or neck muscle again. Out came the Thera Cane. She said that when something is pressed against a tight muscle, the body's reflex is to loosen up in that area. So when you apply pressure on sore spots with this easy-to-use contraption that has small knobs jutting out from a cane-shaped bar, they dissipate much more quickly than they would on their own.

I LOVE THIS THING and would highly recommend it to anyone who doesn't have a live-in masseuse. It was around $40 on Amazon and it's the best money I've spent in a long time. Yes, it is totally goofy looking, but who cares? It works. This thirty-something has a cane and is not too proud to tell the world about it!