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

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.