So the seven of us, as I announced in an earlier entry, went to see Blue Man Group Friday night. I'll spare the rantings about the show, as Aureth has already put up a pretty good summary with a positively excellent scan of the playbill. I'll leave it at this: I'd always thought it was just publicity when the ads said, "Cannot be described." Well, having seen it... I have to agree. They're right, it cannot be described, except that the show completely rocked, even from our crappy balcony seats. I will say that the advantage of the balcony seats was that we got to see some of the chaos that ensued during the show in a way people in the main seating area could not, which was in its own way pretty cool. I cannot imagine what sitting in the front row would be like.
I will say one thing, after our little trip into Chicago to get to the theater: I hate cities. I was born to a family that had 20 acres of land on the edge of a farming town's borders. There were dirt roads, few cars, friendly neighbors and lots of room to just... enjoy yourself. Life was sometimes hectic but more often than not it was relatively calm. When I moved to Illinois I was overwhelmed by the suburb I had moved into (Carol Stream), where there were lots of town homes, apartment complexes, four-lane highways and considerably more people and cars. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry. It made me very homesick and was very intimidating. To this day I still don't much care for it, but after having moved to Hoffman Estates I've located a relatively sleepy corner of the village to live in and am mostly adapted -- even though I still think most people that drive on the roads here are rude, impatient and dangerous individuals who could stand to get clocked upside the head with a 2x4 to be reminded what a speed limit is.
After seeing Chicago, I'll gladly spend the rest of my days in Hoffman Estates or some similar medium-sized, established neighborhood.
Chicago, to me, was like Minneapolis, only ten times worse. People drive in a manner so aggressive it's amazing to me we didn't die eighteen times over. There was nowhere to park. People were everywhere, the roads were congested in such a way I thought it was rush hour... and it was 9:45 at NIGHT. Good grief. People cut us off, it was impossible to turn left if there wasn't a semaphore there with a left turn arrow, entire lanes of the road disappeared without warning to be replaced with row after row of parked cars. It, to me, was probably the least friendly-looking place on earth -- everyone seemed pissed off and in a hurry to get where they were going. I had been there once before. I thought perhaps that my experience was shaded by the fact I was still new to the area (Had been in the state less than four months), or by any number of other factors. Boy, was I wrong.
I suppose this is the point where Jen and Kette point fingers and laugh at the poor, dazed farm boy. But I don't care, because dammit I want to live someplace where I don't have to listen to the sound of traffic twenty-four hours a day, where it doesn't take an act of god to change lanes in front of somebody, where I can look up and see a sky rather than some towering building. I want a place to park. I want GRASS to be just as prevalent as the pavement, I want trees that aren't growing through decorative grates in a sidewalk. Tell me I'm living in some hick town, that's fine. I'm happy where I am.
I think I'll call my parents and thank them for raising me in Prior Lake, MN, on the farm. I should call them, any ways, because I've been remiss in that. I'm a lousy son, oh yes.
Bitching about Chicago aside, the drive in and out were mostly without event. We got home to my place, and shortly after Nessus and Roho took off back to Roho's apartment. Jen and Aureth, as seems to be usual, crashed at my place. The next morning, Aureth got up at something approximating a reasonable hour (for him) although it was far too early for me. Jen decided, since she had woken up and Jim was up, that I needed to be awake as well -- this decision resulted in my cat Ra being hurled onto my stomach, much to my annoyance and dismay. When that didn't prove sufficient motivation to awake and rise from bed, Jen proceeded to tickle my feet, which is a sure way to annoy me to the point I leap out of bed, if only to escape such vicious treatment. Not long after I got up (Maybe an hour and a half) Twan and his girl also surfaced. A brief discussion of the many ingredients for omelettes was somehow started, and at that point I proclaimed that all of us should pack into vehicles and head down to the local 24/7 restaurant (The Spring Garden -- good food, good prices, always open) to procure such butter-fried delights. We did so, and had a most excellent meal... and got the chance to sit around and just shoot the breeze for some time, so it was a pretty nice, relaxing time.
Jen hung around for a few hours after that, which we spent pretty much either sleeping (6 hours of sleep just is not enough for me, and i had to make it up with a nap) or watching TV -- I got to show her the South Park episode that nearly made Masem and myself go blind. I am a firm believer that misery loves company, so it was natural that I said, "Oh, you've got to see this!" when it came on. After Jen left around 9:30 that night, I sat down on the IRC network for a while, chatted with the various #watertower folken (as has become my daily ritual) and had a couple of gin & tonics before I fell off into bed to get a nice night's sleep in.
Today was pretty much a wash for me -- I had to go retrieve my work cell phone, which Twan had left in Roho's car on Friday night. I went to Jewel and did some shopping, mostly getting the sort of quick-and-easy foods that single men in their twenties are particularly prone to buying, such as pasta, Hamburger Helper, yogurt and junk food. Why don't grocery stores just condense all these items into one aisle and label it "Bachelor Lane" so that we don't have to wander to sixteen different points in the store to procure these few staples? Ah well, that's just the way of things I guess.
This week at work will be interesting: my manager is out of town on vacation, leaving us to handle ourselves (even though one of my coworkers is technically my supervisor). I'm curious to see just how much work I can get through while he's gone, since while he's in the building I spend most of my time avoiding him, avoiding my desk, and avoiding any real form of productivity. The man just drives me nuts and completely saps any initiative I have. His style of management is micro-management, which I have proven in the past I do not respond to well in the least, especially when some of the requests/projects assigned to me border on the insane (Oh, your internet is slow? Sure, I'll get right on that one for you... give me about six months while I go around with a spool of fiber and a backhoe so I can rewire the internet and make it FASTER for you...). I'm giving the position about six more months before I really start to consider throwing in the towel and finding another job. Six months because I need to see my review first, I need to see how upper management responds to Allen, I need to see if my other coworkers are going to quit, I want my stock options in the company to mature, and I want the job market to straighten itself out a little more. Time will tell, I guess.
Ah well. Off to grab another handful of Cheetos Curls (Mmmm, I positively adore cheesy puffs), wash up and hit the bed for the coming workday.
Collar me, don't collar me.