Haaave you met R?

C'mon. I love this show.

Last Saturday was my friend R's birthday. He's a big Lincoln Park fan (he lives there) so I agreed to meet up. Since I don't really take any of the girls who live there seriously (one suggested I add a bell, basket, and pegs to my road bike so I'd look like a douchebag. Weird), I figured I'd do what I could to help him meet some girls.

I didn't have a great idea of what to do to rope in a girl to talking to R (not to say anything negative about him in that way, though). Instead, I just went with the go-to wingman move used by Barney Stinson (For those who don't know: Neil Patrick Harris on How I Met Your Mother. Start watching it): simply saying "Have you met (insert buddy name here)?" and getting out of the way.

Though the girl was interested enough to talk to R, R commented that it was like talking to a picture of a hot girl: no steady conversation. So unfortunately, my attempts for R turned out to be un-Legendary.

These interactions led me to a few conclusions, though:

1)It's way easier to talk to girls at bars when you aren't super drunk (which I usually am). Maybe that's one thing to work on, as opposed to knowing all the lyrics to the 90s rap songs that play.

2)How come it's easier to approach the opposite sex for other people? There was no hesitant questioning if I should wait until Girl of Interest was absolutely alone or looking in our direction. Nope, those feelings were saved for later in the night when I considered talking to girls (I didn't).


But back to the general meeting girls thing, how do girls generally feel if someone were to buy them a drink and try to talk to them? Jay's girlfriend says it's not a big deal and it shows interest. I've never done it before. Not because I'm cheap, but I feel like I'd be making a girl feel obligated to talk to me for five minutes or whatever.

Does this actually happen? Or do girls just think "Sweet. Free drink"?

Swaps!: A Fun Frakking Food Tour

This is my first 20sb blog swap. I'm trading with The Brooklyn Boy, a pretty cool guy whose blog I'll be following:




"I've never gotten past the first thing ..."
"What?"
"The post thing. We went when my parents were here and then turned around."
"Uhhh ... wack. We're definitely going. And we're going to Grimaldi's first."
"And then ice cream?"
When her eyes light up like that, it's hard to say no. Especially when she's improving on a good idea. So with my oh-so-fun Furlough Fridays, we met up around 4:30 and hopped the train to DUMBO.
We quickly found out 5 p.m. is an awesome time to go to Grimaldi's, because we waited about 20 minutes (they were trying to sort all the vacated tables into 2-tops) and by the time we left, the line extended so long it almost reached the Fulton Ferry landing. Inside I ordered a Peroni, because a) I like beer and b) it's Italian, and we agreed on a mushroom and ricotta pizza. Because I was feeling ambitious, it was a large. The lady is small. She gamely ate three slices, which means I ate five, managing to impress not only due to volume but also by wisely eating the slices in size order (large to small), which made it waaay less intimidating to wolf down the final one.
After dinner, we chilled on the Ferry landing for a bit before setting off across the bridge. Moseying across while doing our best to avoid bikers and also the throngs of photo-taking tourists, we soon exited onto Chambers St. I mentioned my high school was down the block, and she mentioned never having actually seen it. So we hiked crosstown, randomly running into a co-worker of mine who lives outside the city, and took a quick peek inside after I hit her with urban legends (track team practice, pre-bridge: running back and forth across the West Side Highway before the light changed) and fun facts (the bridge staircase railing being named "The Holy Rail" for skaters).
Ambling from there into the West Village, we hit up cones for some delicious gelato. I can't remember the fruit, but it was a marscapone combo. Playing tourists, we laughed at the smutty pulp-novel-cover postcards and gave a dollar to a barbershop quartet after listening to a song. (Support your local artists!) Walking off the gelato as we headed up to Milk Bar, we focused on our mission of ordering crack pie, which we hadn't previously because the cookies are so damn good. That accomplished, we headed back round my way, struggling the final few blocks because seven miles was soooo far. And it was 9 o'clock and I'm old (almost 26!)
Our food tour was not finished, however. See we woke up, ate the crack pie (fiending for more) and then went to Clinton St. Bakery for the city's best pancakes. Thank fuck for high metabolism. And girlfriends who eat.

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Pitckfork and the rest of the Weekend

I'm doing this post with my phone during my commute so I can stay awake:

This past weekend, two friends came to town: Z, a friend since 3rd grade, visited to see the Saturday performances at the Pitchfork Music Festival with Kumar. He wasn't too happy with 10mph rush hour traffic. J, a girl I know from college, rode down to hang out with her high school friends. She opted for the bus, which was an hour late. Neither were happy with their trips.

After eating dinner, Z and I stopped by J's friends' apartment for a few drinks. Though I like living in a simple walkup apartment nice ones (with working appliances) still look better. After an hour or so, Z and I walked to Kumar's apartment. The rest of the night was filled with people playing guitar, discussing how ridiculous it is that parents are joining facebook, and Old Grand Dad 114 whiskey. Old Grand Dad was pretty cranky.

On Saturday, Z left for the festival while I met up with J and her friends on Michigan ave. As much as I enjoy buying clothes for myself watching other people do it isn't as fun. But at least I'm not spending my money. Our nighttime plan was to go to The Violet Hour for a few drinks and then go from there. While J walked to the bar with her friends, I rode my bike from Rob's apartment while he took a cab with his girlfriend. I wouldn't say that Rob is the quickest person to get ready. Pair that with waiting for a taxi and traffic, and I was there 20 minutes before him. Violet Hour is probably the one bar in Wicker Park that you have to wait in line for (thankfully it's worth it). The bar is owned by the owner of super-nice restaurants Blackbird and Publican. When you go into the bar, you get seated by your party size. When Rob and gf arrived, I failed to explain this to him and let him refuse to skip the line (he didn't want any dirty looks). Long story short: we got in about 35 minutes before Rob. Luckily the drinks and atmosphere was great. Following paying for 10 drinks (of $10-12 each) between J's friend and I, we were in need of some cheaper drinks.

On to Crocodile and its $2.50 Pabst tallboys and free personal pizzas. Yup: when you order drinks that cost something like $6 total or so, they give you a small pizza for free. As a reference, mixing scotch with pbr and dirty basement dancing will likely make you black out.

Sunday was my turn to go to Pitchfork with Kumar, Jay, and a few others. Like last year, it was a great time. A quick recap od the acts I saw:

Pharoahe Monche: a rapper who hangs with the likes of Mos Def and Talib. He put on a great show, aided by a DJ from the group the Xecutioners. Apparently MF Doom from the night before wasn't great due to the audio setup, so I'm happy I saw Pharoahe instead.

The Walkmen: NYC via DC indie rockers. These guys were amazing. They played most of their songs from last year's You & Me, which were great, but a little slower. In songs like The Rat and In the New Year, the sounded their best.

Mew: Dutch "Opera Rock" (as described by Jay). These guys have a pretty big following I guess. They sounded unique, but definitely European. I saw them instead of Grizzly Bear because Jay said that GB would be in town during September.

The Flaming Lips: indie rock gods 2nd to Pavement. If last year's headliner Spoon had an arrogant cool, this was the complete opposite, but just as fun. I'm not a big Lips fan, but this live show left me wanting more. The band had more confetti than I've ever seen. They blew up giant balloons until they burst as well as shot it from cannons. And oh yeah, their 90 minutes of music was great too. Of all three days, I definitely picked the best day to go.

So that sums up my weekend. Lots of running around and hanging out. One thing that I thought of was the fact that my effort toward meeting girls has been at zero for quite a while now. All I've done recently was say Hi to D at the cafe.
So I'll ask a question either single or dating people can answer:

Do you find it's easier/more productive to kick back and not pursue the opposite sex or to be proactive about meeting new people?

At a Club

An Actual Club? Of course not

I feel like I did a solid job of not spending too much cash this weekend. This is important, because I'm poor and need to save up for the horrendous security deposits that landlords ask for. I didn't end up going out on Friday because random circumstances with each group of friends caused them not to call back. Some got drunk way too early, some were at small gatherings "not open to others," and another completely lost his phone. Though it was a little frustrating, I still probably saved $30 or so.

My Saturday involved the beach (the second time in this very un-hot summer) and then WestFest on Chicago Ave. WestFest was kind of boring except that we saw the last 45 seconds of Mucca Pazzi. Following the band, we watched part of a DJ set of all the standard club songs you love to hate (And I just hate). During this set, we noticed a woman dancing on stage with her infant. Weird. Soon after, I got a call to meet up with Rob, so I biked over to his place with the intention of meeting up later.

We grabbed some food at Pizza Metro, the best pizza around. Or at least the best pizza in my area. For under $3, you get a pretty liberal slice of pizza that's wildly delicious.

And then we started drinking...lots of cheap beer (PBR only). Usually when I drink a lot, I have a pretty good time. But whenever I get caught up thinking about my string of bad luck with girls (I'm not even going to post a link for this. Just read any post...) I tend to get frustrated and overanalyze a lot. Now I'm not saying that I turn into a crying girl, but I get confused about what I should do.

Case in point:

After our first bar, we went to Rainbo Club. Now, this isn't a club at all, but just a one-room dive bar that probably holds 60 people. When Rob and I walked in, I thought I saw a girl who I'd asked out last October. Long story short, she agreed to go on a date for dinner with me (twice), but flaked out on plans and never returned calls (no date ever took place). I see her every so often, but she acts like she hadn't agreed to anything. Needless to say, I avoid her. It turns out that it was the girl, C. I didn't say hi to her and hadn't any real plan to. As the night wore on, Rob and I drank our fair share of $2 Pabst (Pints, at that. Awesome). Out of nowhere, I see Donna from the train standing around. Since I see her once or twice a week, saying hi is no big deal. Strange thing is Rainbo Club is the last bar I'd expect to see her. Being a Lincoln Park girl, she's usually in that neighborhood drunkenly dancing and paying $5 for beers. Before leaving, Donna sat down with Rob and I to talk a little. During the conversation, she asked Rob if his totally normal looking glasses were prescription, to which he replied "Yes, this isn't Lincoln Park" (Read: Rob automatically didn't like her dumb question).

So there I had it. In one bar stood two girls I'd asked out on dates. One was hip, the other was a female Bro (is that a Sis then?), and neither had wanted anything to do with me. This got my only-realize-how-drunk-you-were-until-next-morning self to thinking: Have I totally struck out with both ends of this social spectrum? Does that mean I'm screwed with everything in the middle, too? Rob said that I was overthinking it and need to just relax. I said (and still think) that if I don't do anything at all, there won't be any girls throwing themselves at me.

The positive thing that came out of the night is that I didn't foolishly text either girl: C because I've deleted her number from my phone, and Donna because I managed to restrain myself.

Rob also mentioned the age-old advice that I shouldn't try to meet girls at bars. What do you think about this? I'm not sure how I feel either way, because if I met a girl at some non-bar location, there's still a pretty high probability that she goes to bars on the weekends.


Also, I found out that one of the front desk girls at my gym met her new boyfriend at the gym. He gave her his number, and she called him. It's a little embarrassing because I did the exact same thing to her (she never called me). When I heard this, I was a little disappointed, thinking that she should've called me, and we would have had a great time. But in general, I'm just glad she called someone back. Now I know that what I did wasn't completely wrong.

Let's Be More Adventurous

Kid separated his shoulder waterskiing the day of his party

So the past week (outside of the work part) has been pretty fun. I went back to Wisconsin for the 4th. A 7th grade friend had a party, so I got to see him for the first time in about 8 years (wow. that's long). My hatred for Wrigleyvile grew, as some Bro must have broken off the back fender of my bike to show off for some illiterate girls he was with.

I went to the cafe today after my haircut in hopes of seeing D from last week. She wasn't there, which isn't a giant surprise. But now it makes me think that I should have gotten her number before running away. Instead of complain about that single situation, maybe I'll try to do it differently with the next girl.

While at the cafe, the barista gave me free coffee with my sandwich (yay! free stuff!), but who knows, it could've just been a mistake. Though she was really cute and made some small talk about Chicago's disgusting weather, there's a funny clipping from the Onion titled "Barista Not Actually Flirting with You" (Read it. It's funny) taped to where you order coffee. So that pretty much knocks down any truth to my assumption.

Have you ever thought someone was into you and then been completely wrong also? I know this wasn't my first time.

A Small Step for YFW...

Last night I saw one of my favorite bands, Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks (moreso his former band Pavement, but both are great). When seeing live shows of artists you're really into, there's always a jumbled up set list you'd want them to play. If they hit even 25% of the songs, I think you can leave pretty happy. SM played some new stuff, some songs off his previous album, and a couple from his first two. Overall, it was a really entertaining show. No dancing, just head bobbing.

After the show, we went to a standard 4AM bar. By the time we got there, I was exhausted, but tried to do a bit of hanging out. The bar was pretty busy and there were quite a few girls (as well as guys) there (I guess that's the definition of "pretty busy," huh?). There were a few girls I wanted to talk to, but just felt like it would be too weird. By the end of the night, I was both super-tired and kind of down due to my shyness.

But today was a little different. After working out, I made my standard trip to the cafe. Upon entering, I noticed a petite girl in a green shirt. She looked really cute, so after buying my coffee, I sat in the table directly to her right. For the next hour, I drank my coffee and read Will Self while glancing over every....45 seconds it seemed. I think she looked over a few times, but I never really know. After a while, I knew I wanted to say something, but I felt sketchy doing so around some other people. Instead, I decided to do the one thing I know: Say hi and quickly leave. Now this wasn't without first trying to overcome all my shyness. This included packing up all my shit and just sitting at the table for 10 minutes, standing up and doing nothing, and walking to blow my un-stuffed-up nose. Finally I decided to walk over and say I was leaving, but wanted to say hi. She was really friendly, and I think she was open to talking a little more because she asked if I lived around the area and what I did for work (after I asked her what her book was about--teacher stuff). So I may have been able to swing it into an actual conversation, but I was pretty nervous. I told her, D, that I hoped I'd see her again. She said that she lives across the street from the cafe, but it was the first time I'd seen her (I go at least once per weekend).

So that's it. How'd I do? Should I have asked for her number, or is it fine I'm just trying to get lucky and see her there again? I feel like most guys figured this out when they were 14, but I was busy playing Nintendo 64 and learning algebra.