Bridget Callahan is Your Best Friend

So I’m in Chicago, and there will eventually be a long post with explanations and itineraries and photos. But this isn’t it. This is my not quite ready to go to bed and look at me having internet access for the first time in 4 days post.

First, it’s easy to forget there are any regular people in Chicago when you take the Blue Line everywhere. The Blue Line seems to only go through incredibly hot young people land. They immediately steal your attention away from the normal people who are also on the train, and also the weird ones and the homeless ones. I was taking the train back to Carrie’s today, and I was looking out the window at all the skinny jeans and ironic sock combinations and tiny hips waiting on the platform, passing by like a H&M mosaic. all of a sudden the train is pulling away and I see this skinny old guy with wild desperate crazy eyes and I was like HEY WAIT A MINUTE I HAVE SEEN THOSE EYES BEFORE. Cleveland came flooding back to me like coming up for air. Which was good for me, because I was starting to feel incredibly dowdy and inadequate, since none of those butterflies was likely to have sex with me.

I did see one guy on the train today that was so gorgeous, it was literally like watching a really good movie. I actually don’t know if he was really all that good looking, but I instantly wanted to fuck him, like, without even a second glance. He was wearing really normal clothes, and looked like you imagine Holden Caulfield would look if transplanted to the subway, and reading a book. He had a old battered backpack instead of a messenger bag. He even had a twitch in his cheek while he read, like he was really nervous. It was unbelievable. Chicago will mess with you like that. It’s stressful taking the train.

Also, it’s Obama land here. Posters everywhere. Everyone wearing way cool buttons. Hot guys who want to talk politics. Everyone biking everywhere. There is no indecision here. It's like Oz.

I will talk about Milwaukee later, since it was perfect and deserves more than just this story, but I was really just jolted by this. Because I stereotype like a mofo. If you’re wearing a hoodie and a plaid shirt and have messy unkempt indie boy hair, I assume things about you. A boy matching that description came in to a bar we were at with his friends also matching that description, and I overheard him saying something about Palin. So I’m thinking I can find someone I want to talk to in this pseudo Irish sports bar, and I go over with a flimsy excuse and say something like “did I hear you bashing Palin earlier?” and this dead ringer for half the drum players that have ever been mentioned in Pitchfork ever says quite sincerely “No, I LOVE Palin. She’s amazing.”

So, you know, that put me in my place.

Speaking of Palin…

I know you have all posted this already probably, but hey AWESOME. I say we break out the big guns and Fey starts doing real commercials for the Dems re-enacting faux pas.

Also, Les Misbarack? Well worth watching. No really, go watch it.