u s e y o u r h a n d s

Hands in horrible pain stop Can’t do Missed Connections stop Read these selected ads from a hodgepodge of publications stop

BARN DANCE. TAMMY. We sweated together. You shared a beautiful vision. I remember the gaze! How about coffee? or more dancing? Rick (Austin Chronicle)

I MET YOU at the port-a-potties at Goose Island fest on Saturday night. You asked if you could go ahead of me and I said I was going to time you. Sorry I couldn’t wait for you. I’d like to see you again. (Chicago Reader)

STINKY You: Long hair, loving, having buttsplosions. Me: wishing I could help your digestion. Will we meet again? (Portland Mercury)

DAMIEN JURADO FAN You: Tall gorgeous blonde in red walking South on Alaskan Way w/friend after 8/21 SAM show. Me: long-haired cowboy rushing to ferry. I recommended “I Break Chairs’ Chat? (Seattle Weekly)

MC W/ THE RELEASE of “9 Dead Gay Guys” To the director: when the hell are you going to get that masterpiece released? I’ve been talking a blue streak about it! You wouldn’t believe how many scenarios your film gets jammed into. Besides, I am breathlessly awaiting seeing that hot Irish bull(y)! If you see this (and we both know how much time you spend online playing silly war games), flip me an email. Hope you’re well! -Your East Coast Siren Chauffeur (London Craig’s List)

YOU WERE AT albertsons at scottsdale and thomas – m4w – 34 i was squeezing melons while you were admiring zuccinis. our eyes met. our carts moved closer. yours was full of honey, whipped cream, nestle quick sauce, some cucumbers and a selection of summer sausages. you were admiring my hairy coconuts, daikon radish, bottle of nutella, sour cream and tuna helper. you reached for a banana and i reached to grab a bag to help you wrap it… but there was no more plastic. i went to go find some more, but upon return found only a smoldering cigarette butt and a coupon for handi wipes. if this was you, let’s meet again and maybe i can help load your trunk… (Phoenix Craig’s List)

Help. Hands. Help.

I checked my voicemail this a.m. and got the word that I landed one of the strangest apartments in Lincoln Square. And I couldn’t be happier.

Lincoln Square is located in the vicinity of Western and Lawrence and is home to the Old Town School of Folk Music and the diminishing seat of Chicago’s German community. After just falling in love with Andersonville, why venture south? I hadn’t even ventured in to Lincoln Square until dinner last week with Rachael. After a good movie, yummy Greek food, and some pinot grigio, I looked around and felt so pleased, so excited. So, now I’m going to live there.

My apartment is right by the Davis and within spitting distance of yummy sammich place Costello’s. I’ve got an entire floor in a house. There’s a backyard, a shed for storage, and laundry. The door opens into a little foyer with another door in front and to the right. Go to the right. The living room is good-size and fronts on the street. The windows are high enough so as to prevent people climbing in them. Turn down the short hallway. On your left, I’ve got several large built-in cabinets with glass doors. They sold me on this place. The bathroom is small, but features a roll-rim claw-foot bathtub. I am a bath person.

The bedroom is up ahead on the left and is literally the smallest bedroom I have ever seen. But that’s fine. It’s womb-like. Hey, what’s that door? Oh, shit. It’s the closet. The closet is this random, inexplicable nook you could never find in a modern building. I envision a settee.

Here’s my plan: run curtain rods around the entire room. Tightly blouse hot pink fabric around the entire room, covering up the window. Jam in ultra-plush double bed covered in black velvet duvet. High thread-count sheets (in pink). Lacy design out of rhinestones hot glued on to ceiling. Fairy lights.

But here’s why I rented the apartment. The kitchen is probably over 200 square feet. It’s the largest kitchen ever. And, like my current setup, it’s got a small oven, but also a small fridge. I was dismayed until the owner said out of the blue, “You know, you can totally cook a 22 lb. turkey in there.” And that’s what got me.

The whole vision of me as an adult? As the earth mother/bon vivant passing around wine and food at a party in my house? It’s going to happen here. And when it does, I hope you’ll be there.

I’m turning 25 on November 25. I think that’s two days before T-Day this year, but bookmark Saturday the 22nd. There will be a turkey. There will be eclectic sides. There will be wine. And in the middle, I’ll be there, beaming.

Where can I buy gloves? Gloves that you’d wear to tea.

I embarked on strange little excursions this weekend. Late-night swap meet, Hala Kahiki, smoke-filled Irish bar. When I lived in LA, I had a mailing list with my roommate and partner-in-crime the Lovely Miss Deanne. We documented our adventures for a few hundred folks. You can view Randomnities archives here at UYH.

This weekend reminded me of those times with the Dea’.

Pulaski is an interesting street. And I got to see quite a lot of it during the half-hour trek to Paddy Mac’s. We got a table near the door, a Stella and a cider, and copies of both the Irish-American News and Karaoke Nite Life. The I-A News has been a constant source of joy to me since I moved to Chicago. One column in particular, Hooliganism by Mike Houlihan, is a must-read. Houlihan’s ham-fisted working-class prose is littered with none-too-charming phrases like “cheese hog.” Here’s a sample:

Paddy wants to be the Irish Martin Scorsese and is studying film at Columbia. His assignment was to write, produce, and direct a short film. Paddy brings his quirky sense of humor to his film, “Courtney is Starving.”
It’s the story of a young man named Courtney in love with a very fat girl named Courtney. My son Billy stars in the film as bachelor Courtney and I volunteered to make my drag debut as Courtney the cheese hog.
A good thing too, because he was too afraid to ask an actual cheese hog to play the part. She would probably kick his ass.

Pick it up. All I’m sayin’. But Karaoke Nitelife also proved entertaining. The grainy, unflattering photos of karaoke belters are fabulous, but the real gem in this free publication are Karaokescopes by “Fubar the Adequate.” Here’s mine:

Lots of good energy surrounds you for the rest of the month and for the better part of August. Be careful of the kryptonite. You really need to find a playful outlet for your aggressiveness, though, since the final outcome will have people classifying you as an overachiever, which will only piss you off. Try singing novelty songs this month. “Weird Al,” maybe.

Have truer words ever been spoken?

Anyway, I’m just going to get to the swap meet because it was in many ways both fucked-up and glorious. Readers of UYH know of this writer’s fondness for the Missed Connection. I’m really just interested in the reasons for things. My brothers and I were hooked on the Leonard Nimoy-narrated show “In Search Of…” as kids. The show took meandering paths to explain cultural and historical phenomena. Maybe that’s part of why I’m so interested in the stories behind things.

The all-night swap meet, I’m sure you can predict, was a mother lode of creepy kitsch. Tacky I can handle. Frightening, I have more of a problem with. However, doll collectors must be immune to this condition. Why else would the Du Page County Fairgrounds have been home to so many doll vendors? I’ve posted a few doll photos in the photos section, but you’ll have to believe that there were literally thousands of half-naked and dirty dolls.

Who collects these? How did these dolls come to be in a scuffed plastic bin? Little girls played with all of them at some point. What happened to separate a girl from her doll? I can’t think of any happy reason why these dolls ended up in Wheaton at midnight being ogled by collectors and smartasses with camera phones.

I’m mentally redecorating my future Lincoln Square apartment. I saw a place this weekend that was nice, cheap, and close to the action, but I wouldn’t be happy in the kitchen and there’s no porch. I’ve been spoiled by the Damen pad. I haven’t worked out the other rooms, but the bedroom will involve the following: pink walls, maribou, black velvet, and rhinestones.