Holy Cow!

Holy cow, what a week.

Crazy politics, a wild ride on the markets, an absolutely terrible weekend for the Bulldog Nation (and Gator/Badger/Trojan Nations, respectively) resulting in a shakeup in the Top 25 polls, and the White Sox may join the Cubs in the playoffs if tonight's tie-breaker game goes well.

And it's only Tuesday.

Since sports seem to dominate the news (immediately following the news that matters, you know, like to our wallets, our health and our nation's reputation), I decided that we must be doing okay.

If we still can find the extra cash, reserves of passion and boosts of energy it requires to be a sports fan, even in these trying times, then I believe (naively, stubbornly) that we are still alright as a nation.

If we can still dress up like this:








and hang on to some shred of hope that this year will be different, then we must still have heart. And, heart is what it takes to be a sports fan these days.

Especially when your team goes into the season ranked #1 and falls in week 5 to a conference opponent in a decidedly ugly game.

Especially when the "voice of football" in your head retires and it just doesn't seem quite right without him up in the box.

Especially when your city has two teams that may make it to the playoffs, and you're curious what will happen to the city when the north/south side rivalry really heats up in a head-to-head battle across 3 miles of urban terrain.

Especially when you watch your team, with its sorry quarterback and supposedly dominant defense, give up two games in a row in the fourth quarter (or overtime) and you have to hang your head in shame, again.

Especially when your team hasn't won the world series in 100 years and it would just be so nice not to be famous for blowing it.

It is tough to be a sports fan these days.

Call us stubborn. Call us ignorant. Call us in denial. Call us losers. Call us ridiculous. Call us overrated. Call us against the odds. Call us down-and-out.

I'm still game. We believe.

Go Dawgs! Go Cubs! Go Bears! Okay, fine. Go Sox!

Ding Dong to the Rescue

This one is just too good to keep on the shelf. Pun intended.

As you've likely read, I work in an agency. Which means that I'm surrounded by people that are far more brilliant and creative than I could possibly imagine. And, they are silly, funny tricksters.

A colleague of mine, John, is very outgoing, friendly and talkative. He's in new business development, so that is a convenient mix of traits for him to boast. He's a storyteller like me, and I can only imagine his friends teasing him the same way mine do.

For whatever reason, John finds himself in some pretty outrageous and hilarious situations sometimes, and I can hardly wait to tell you this one. I only hope it translates to be as funny as it was when I was listening to it fly around the office today.

And I was really listening. I heard roaring gales of laughter coming from the cubicles and just had to know the source.

John was the source.

So, he was waiting for the bus at the train station yesterday morning, having just arrived in on his commuter train from the 'burbs. Yes, he's one of THEM. Don't judge.

Anyhoo, he was standing with his trusty little leather commuter briefcase, minding his own business (which in John speak means he was making idle conversation with a stranger with whom he'd soon be exchanging numbers and making dinner plans) when it happened.

A man and a woman were crossing the street together in front of him. The man, in his full business attire, dropped to the pavement. The woman bent down, frantically, over him and began rifling through her oversized handbag, in a sheer panic. She then turned to the crowd over her shoulder and shouted, "He is in a diabetic coma! I need something sweet!"

John, ever the Boy Scout, looked into aforementioned trusty briefcase to find the lunch nestled there inside between his Wall Street Journal and Ad Age. He quickly ripped open the brown bag (likely packed by his wife, but this detail is unconfirmed) to discover he had one! A sweet! A treat!

He held it above his head, moving towards the downed man and the frantic woman. He shouted, out loud as most shouts are, "I have a Ding Dong!"

(author's forced pause for inevitable inappropriate giggles)

Now, of course he was referencing his individually wrapped Hostess Ding Dong, but who knew. It is the city, mind you.

She looked up, and said, "Is it sweet?"

(another pause for inappropriate giggles)

Oh is it.

Not to mock this woman in her time of need, but come on lady, haven't you ever heard of a Hostess Ding Dong!? Surely she's graced the inside of a supermarket, a convenience store, a pantry, a school cafeteria or even seen a vending machine since 1967?

I digress. She was flustered, so I'll give her a pass.

John stepped forward, waving his Ding Dong (sorry, too easy) and said, "Yes! This thing is sweet enough to bring a horse out of a diabetic coma!" and thrusts the treat in her direction. (sorry, WAY too easy)

The frantic woman, growing less frantic as she mashed the Hostess cakes into the poor fellow's mouth, probably failed to miss the ridiculously apparent humor in the situation. In fact, I'm quite sure she did.

But, the office here didn't miss a beat.

Oh - you want to hear how the story ends? Geez, you're so thorough.

The diabetic man was fine. He got up, brushed himself off and resumed his day on a better note than it had apparently started. Both he and his lady friend thanked John profusely for his kindness, timeliness, and convenient possession of an individually wrapped sweet treat. He even had a sweet woman, who'd watched the whole event, say to him when they'd finally boarded the bus, "Things will surely go your way today" implying some sort of cosmic or karmic retribution.

I'll let him get away with the fact that he's a grown man, ahem, carrying a Hostess cake in his lunch.

But, the office, as I mentioned, never misses an opportunity to tease. Promptly, the designers were whipping up a "King Dong" medallion which was then printed out, pasted to foam core, trimmed neatly and affixed to glistening blue beads. He was pronounced the King Dong for the day (apparently it was actually King Don, but that's not as funny). And the rest of the office was trying (unsuccessfully) not to cross that line TOO far when making jokes. Retorts. Some of which HR probably wouldn't like.

Let's put it this way.

When a colleague claims he saved a man's life, and it involves putting a Ding Dong in the other man's mouth, it is just too easy.

MeMeMeMe Meme

Not feeling much like this today, but isn't a good laugh contagious?
Because my mind is otherwise full today and I have no stories and I didn't do anything interesting last night and everyone has been well-behaved on the bus and I can't possibly be funny and you don't really want to hear about everything else that is going on, instead I'll take the cop-out that was handed to me.

I'll respond to a Meme that I was tagged for by Robyn who is the sister of a friend of mine here in Chicago. Robyn and her husband are living in Johannesburg, South Africa, and her blog (and her life!?) is really interesting.

Can you imagine? And I thought the trek from Atlanta to Chicago was far.

I'm certain that I'm supposed to tag other readers/bloggers to do this, too, but I'm not feeling like pressuring others to do it, so I'll just serve up myself today. Consider it 20 little mini-stories brought to you by Colleen.

Anyhoo, here's the Meme, and my could-possibly-be-lame-but-I-am-trying answers:

1. What are your nicknames?
Coll, Clean, Cleaner, Limpia (the Spanish word for Clean), Colon (which sadly digressed into Colon Blow in H.S. from the SNL commercial for the high fiber cereal, go figure) and Colleener Machiner. Oh, and for some strange reason my sister calls me Boppo.

2. What game show and/or reality show would you like to be on?
American Idol, oh wait, I can't sing. Top Design, but oh wait, I only watch design shows, I'm not a designer. America's Next Top Model, but not because I have any false impression of being a size 0 or 19 years old or anorexic, but because I think the makeup looks cool and I'd love to see how it all goes behind the scenes. So, since I've waffled and denied any chance of appearing on those three, let's go with Divine Design. Candice Olsen is a goddess, and I'd love to see how she'd manage small urban spaces.

3. What was the first movie you bought in VHS or DVD?
I can't recall which one I first bought, so here's a random few "firsts" as it relates to movies. The first movie I saw in the theater was E.T., and apparently the opening forest scene scared me so much I wanted to go home. Afterwards, of course, I had an E.T. t-shirt, necklace and the ugliest stuffed animal you've ever seen. The first movie I remember really watching over and over was Girls Just Want to Have Fun with Sarah Jessica Parker. I just wished and hoped I went to a Catholic school so I could wear a plaid skirt and rip it off to reveal something much funkier and cooler underneath. Dork. The first movie I ever snuck off to see without my parents knowing was Top Gun. It was PG-13, I think, and I was only 11. The horror! (Maybe they wanted to protect me against hearing bad 80s music like Berlin?)

4. What is your favorite scent?
A good men's cologne, used sparingly.

5. If you had a million dollars that you could only spend on yourself, what would you do with it?
I'd have to pay off all debts for me and my family, and then I'd travel. I'd try to write/photograph it so at least the feeling of wealth (and money-making) could last...

6. What one place have you visited that you can't forget and want to go back to?
Vernazza, Italy. A charming little cliffside town on the Mediterranean in the Cinque Terra region. It was magical.

7. Do you trust easily?
Yes, too much so. My blog is probably evidence #1 of that.

8. Do you think before you act, or act before you think?
Oh how I'd love to commit one way or another for this one, but I think it depends. What a wuss answer. I think first when it has consequence, and act first if it is frivolous and something that won't cause harm. Unless you count retail therapy - then there is no thinking whatsoever.

9. Is there anything that has made you unhappy these days?
Besides the obvious politically correct answer of the economy, War, obnoxious election ads and poverty, I think that back pain and communication challenges are the only answers.

10. Do you have a good body image?
Uh, who does all the time? I feel ok sometimes and lousy sometimes. I'm a woman, that's what we do.

11. What is your favorite fruit?
Kiwi, if someone else will peel and slice it for me since I mangle it while trying. Or pineapple, on the side of a drink. Or strawberries, on top of cheesecake. Or raspberries, drizzled in chocolate. Am I off track here?

12. What websites do you visit daily?
Yahoo Mail, CNN, ESPN (during college football season), my blog and top 5 blog roll sites

13. What have you been seriously addicted to lately?
College football, Divine Design (see above) and Samantha Brown's Passport to Europe.

14. What kind of person do you think the person who tagged you is?
I don't know Robyn, but if her sister is any indication, I bet she is funny, pretty, spirited, smart, passionate and interesting. With a great laugh and a fabulous head of curls.

15. What's the last song that got stuck in your head?
Psycho Killer by the Talking Heads. It's a long story.

16. What's your favorite item of clothing?
A hot black v-neck 3/4 sleeve knee-length dress from Kenneth Cole that I bought for a special occasion. I felt sexy and it was a great night. Can't bring myself to "dress it down" and wear it anywhere else, like the sales guy promised I could, for fear of ruining the memory of that evening.

17. Do you think Rice Krispies are yummy?
Only when combined with melted marshmallows.

18. What would you do if you saw $100 lying on the ground?
Look left. Look right. Look left. Look right. "Attempt" to find owner. Shrug shoulders. Put it in pocket. Buy a handbag. (Incidentally, something like this happened when I was only like 6 - in the grocery store with my mom - and I believe it was a $50. I gave it to my mom. Not sure what happened with that cash, but I don't recall ending up with a new handbag.)

19. What items could you not go without during the day?
My computer, my cell phone, lipstick, powder and a ponytail holder. Color me a vain tech whore.

20. What should you be doing right now?
Working. Duh.

A Maven is Ravin'

The marketing world is an interesting one. And, combine that with the blogosphere in which I reside, and it compounds that interest factor even more.

About two months ago, I was approached through Facebook by a woman in Los Angeles that has been reading my blog and wanted to talk to me. She works for a company called Brand About Town who has been hired by Method to create an interactive panel, or a social network, of people who are "connected" in their respective communities. In the marketing world, we call these people "social influencers."

Justine, my initial contact at Brand About Town, had been following my blog and thought I seemed like a person that could be "connected" to other women in my life, and thought this blog's personality and the topics I write about were a good fit. Hence, the introduction. She asked me to interview with another colleague, Jamie, while she was in Chicago. I went to the W Hotel (after doing my due diligence on what this was all about) and we had a lovely chat that confirmed a few suspicions I already had about the program.

First, Jamie was a gal that I could be friends with here in Chicago. We laughed, shared stories and found coincidences in our life. And, we both agreed that this type of "buzz marketing" was quite smart—me from an agency perspective, and her on behalf of her client—when the client didn't want to dump loads of money into traditional advertising media (i.e., commercials, print campaigns, etc.). Finally, we both were confident that Method's line of eco-friendly, non-toxic cleaning products lived up to their promise of helping women, namely, rethink cleaning.

I was on board. After sending a silly personal bio and a photo, I was officially deemed a "Method Maven." While the maven part may be a bit of a stretch (seeing as the defnition states it as "an expert or connoisseur") since I was fairly new to the product line, I was game to try.

So, Jamie and Justine sent me a really fancy welcome kit with products to try around my house. And, I have. I'm not here to sell you anything or tempt you into buying into anything, but just to share my experiences, as I do here every day. And, frankly, I'm not a paid spokesperson or anything like that (and there are no pyramids or creepy sales brochures in this program), so don't think anything is wonky here.

To the contrary, this was a straight up genius plan. Get women across the U.S. to host a party, sponsored by Method and produced by Brand About Town, and invite a group of friends. Show up on the designated evening with said women, and have fun. It's that simple.

Last night was our chance. Fifteen of my friends came and we conquered. The entire experience happens in what they call a "pop-up-shop," a temporary location with a store in the front and a "living room" in the back. The Chicago shop is centrally located in Lincoln Park on Halsted near Armitage. It is a fantastic little boutique store that is only open until mid-October. And, you'd never know it was temporary. Photos below will convince you of that.

But more importantly, we were treated like the special VIP guests for the evening. We were ushered in by the hostesses, offered wine or other beverages and asked to partake in the delicious heavy appetizers that were spread throughout the hip, modern and comfy space. We were then seated around a large high-top table where the demonstrations and "class" would be held. We ooohed and aaahed at the cute decor—most of which was made of eco-friendly or recycled materials such as wood, muslin, wicker, bamboo, etc., with a global feel—and settled in for the main event.

With the luxe curtains closed behind us, separating us from the front half of the shop, we began. Our "teacher" for the evening was the lovely Joan Morais, an aromatherapist from California. She led us as we made our own organic beauty products—a lip balm, a spa facial tea, and a bottle of deliciously scented bath salts. We all got to take part in the process, and take the goodies home with us when we left.

Joan also shared recipies, ideas and resources for how to make the items on our own, with other ingredients to our chosen tastes. She and her beautiful daughter Brittany were gracious and friendly, and taught us all quite a bit. I feel smarter and more green just having met them! I can email any of you the recipes she gave us if you just leave a comment with a request.

With my marketing hat on, I must say, the brand experience was solid, seamless, friendly and pleasant. We were invited as guests, hosted by the brand, and allowed to enjoy a very fun and girly evening at no expense. And, no pressure. On the way out, we were asked if we'd like to be a "brand advocate" for Method, and if so, would we opt-in for future communication. Yes? Great, here's a cute funky t-shirt in exchange. (It says "cleans like a mother" on it). This company sure knows how to make this easy.

And, as if that weren't enough loot, each guest was able to then pluck a eco-friendly reusable shopping tote back from the giving hands of the staff, and was excited to see the load. Each bag featured a full-size bottle of the surface cleaner, the toilet bowl cleaner, the hand soap and dish gel. Full size bottles! No trial sizes here. And, from a strictly aesthetic point of view, these bottles are WAY cuter than Scrubbing Bubbles any day.

Before departing, we all swung by the "cleaning confessional" photo booth. The booth printed two sets of the photo strips—one for you to keep, and one for you to hang on the booth wall with your "dirty little secret"—many of which said things like "I secretly love to iron." and "I brush my dog's teeth twice a week." and other silly things related to the brand's niche. Not that they urged us to do that—but it was just there.

Overall, I was honored to have been asked to host, excited to get to invite and expose fifteen great girls to such a fun experience, lucky to have met and worked with Joan, and thrilled to tote home even more fun Method products.

Photos of the escapades are below, including a capture at the bottom of all the loot (including the wire basket of lavender products they sent me in the welcome kit). I've not yet tried all of the items (a girl's gotta sleep!) but plan to scour the home in a non-toxic way as soon as I'm able.

If the hand soap is any indication, my entire condo will smell delightful when I'm through.

As any good Maven's should!




































































Thanks to the hip girls who made the Method "Detox Chicago" event a fun part of their week:

Brenna
Brittany
Caroline
Clare
Jenna
Jill
Katie
Kim
Kristen L.
Kristen M.
Laura
Libby
Nilsa (who wrote this cool post about the party)

Sharon
Tammy

Now, get cleaned up!

I Won't Quit My Day Job

As many of you probably know, video games have really taken off. Quite like this handy Internet thing.

I've never been a big fan of the gaming world, however. Yes, I fell into the spell of Super Mario back in the day, but wasn't quite cool enough to get past that game or Duck Hunt. I think we had four games total including Top Gun, which was mostly for my Dad's benefit.

So, it came as no surprise that I've not bought a Playstation, or a Wii, or an Xbox, as these systems continued to grow, expand and get even more complex.

However, I must come clean on this one.

I am quite a fan of Rock Band. If you're not familiar, then you're truly missing out. It is like karaoke for your home. Yet the best part is that you can involve others—there's someone on guitar, someone on bass and someone banging away on the drums. That even have a foot pedal!

While I've tried all of the instruments (miserably failing at each—it was worse than trying to pat my head and rub my belly simultaneously), I must say that singing sure is my bag.

Before you get all excited and send me items to autograph, let me be clear. I'm terrible.

But oh is it fun to wail and screech and stretch for the high notes and sink into the low notes. It is a total gas to sing along with the words as they jet across the top of the screen, matching pitch and annunciation and holding notes as needed. All while being backed by a real life band! One with plastic, color-coded instruments, but who's judging. A real life band!

The microphone feels good in my hand, and the volume controls allow me to turn up the sensitivity when I'm confident about my skills on a certain song, and turn it down to allow the backup track to overpower me if I'm not so sure.

It is a powerful thing, that rush.

Many of you were there, or have witnessed on YouTube the joyous disaster that was my 30th birthday in Chicago. A surprise weekend that included my favorite cover band (who has since retired!?) dragging me on stage at Joe's Bar to sing, not accompany, to SING the LEAD on "Every Rose Has its Thorn" to more than 1,000 drunk strangers.

I didn't know the words and the lead singer had to feed them to me line by line. I blame that on the fear, or the tequila shot that my friend T-Money had just bought me. I was mortified and thrilled all at once. Just recalling the story sends thrills of adrenaline pulsing through my body. Jill totally orchestrated it so I could live out my "dream."

It was fantastic, and the culmination of many years of saying, "Man, I wish I was a rock star." Now, I don't really mean it, but sometimes watching the VMAs or the Grammys did I wish that I could pull that off. Wearing the cool outfits, jamming with a great band, belting out the notes to a perfectly written song, watching the fans sing along with me—that was heaven.


My experience at Joe's wasn't quite like that, but time has allowed the memory to gel into what I want to remember. People were gleefully singing along with me while I held their rapt attention in my sparkly top and hip jeans. They liked me, they really really liked me!

Anyway, more to the point, and the recent past, Rock Band has allowed that feeling to not be so fleeting. Now I can experience that joy and that rush every weekend! In my friends' home! With a real life band! And wigs! (Sometimes I raid my Halloween closet and bring them over. Everyone loves wigs—you'd be surprised.)

This past Friday was no exception. We gathered about 15 people or so at about 7 pm, and the games began. Taking turns of course, we rotated through old classic rock songs, newer pop songs, alternative hits and other great covers. We handed the mic around and took turns cheering each other on.

Brett held the crowd's attention while mastering The Talking Heads' Psycho Killer and managed to slip into the low notes with ease. The middle lyrics in the chorus, however, did throw him for a bit of loop.

You see, part of that song is in French. And, despite his pretty good vision, when those strange words started running 'cross the top of the screen, he was confused. Dismayed. Though temporarily.

Before I knew it, he'd turned the French phrases into his own comedy routine—saying, "Psycho Killer, here comes French, Fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better; Run run run run run run run away." and "Psycho Killer, this part is French..." and "Psycho Killer, here comes French, obligatory weird sounds...Run run away."

We were dying laughing and could barely make it through the song. I'm pretty sure David Byrne (the lead singer) would have rolled over to hear it. Though he's not dead, just hasn't been heard of since 1988.

Otherwise, I'm certain we made him and all of the other aging rock stars proud. I must say, Rock Band has made my (pretend) dream of being a rock star come true.

If only on Friday nights on W. Diversey.

Love in the Frozen Food Aisle?

I feel like I must preface this post with a reason. Otherwise, this comes way out of left field.

This post was prompted when I read one by a blogger in Canada (a single male) who mentions his frustration at meeting women today after the love of his life ended things so abruptly. He's quite quirky and hilarious, and his post today made me think. And comment something, albeit shorter and more rambly, like this.

Whoever said you should, or could, meet singles in the grocery store has never followed me while I'm there. I go so infrequently because I hate it so much. I miserably enter the store, but I always follow the same pattern of behavior while inside.

I hurriedly scour the aisles, in the same order each time. I go quickly from produce (the far right of my store) and circle around through bread, soups and condiments, to the cereal aisle (where I always buy at least 2 boxes of Special K with Red Berries, unless it is on sale and then I really stock up looking like the crazy cereal woman), and then I make my way past the butcher and the seafood guy and curve towards the dairy aisle. There I scoop up about 10 yogurts, grab some cottage cheese, and haul a gallon of milk and a carton of OJ into my basket.

Oh, and I'm usually dragging that little plastic "yes I cook for one" basket over my arm with the handles stretched beyond the norm into bendy-dom and my right arm has huge, red, swollen indentations in it from loading too much into that little guy and I am nearing a state of misery when I finally find my way in the liquor and beer aisle (the far left of my store) and I grab a few must-haves from over there.

Then I skate past the 3-for-$12 bouquets (oh how I wish someone else was buying the fresh cut flowers) and head over to the checkout lane. I'm scanning the gossip headlines while I secretly rue the day I chose the 15 year-old checkout person's line who has to radio over the speaker for a "21" to come ring up my wine, causing the whole checkout line to sigh and harumph while we wait for that person to casually make their way over to my lane to help out the rude youngster, and I can't really blame them. I should have gone with the self-checkout line since I'm only buying about 12 things that will inevitably cost me $75.

Shaking my head at the lack of customer service that is present anywhere in America today (except super-duper Nordstrom lady), I storm out of there because I'm so hungry and my feet hurt and I just can't get home fast enough to open the bottle of wine that made my basket so heavy. The four block walk makes my arms ache, just proving the need to work out more. Which is an activity that I dislike even more than grocery shopping.

Yeah. Not the time to get hit on. Note to my single male readers: the grocery store is a horrible, awful place and I can't imagine that most women would like to be asked out over a stack of Lean Cuisines.

But maybe that was just me.

(And, yes, it feels good to say that last line in the past tense.)

To Stress My Point

I was saddened today to hear on the news that Chicago has been ranked by Forbes magazine as the #1 Most Stressful City in America.

They based the rankings on many variables, including: unemployment rate, cost of living, number of days of sunshine, the cost of gasoline and the air quality. They called many of the top 10 (or losing 10?) urban monsters, and my favorite: "human bee hives."

My defenses went up. If you've read more than one of my posts, you know that I love this city and really reach out and enjoy many corners of it. I love the diversity of the people, the neighborhoods, the architecture, the nightlife, the sporting events, the cultural activities and the sheer feel of it. I love it.

And, that doesn't stress me out at all.

In order to defend her, I looked up a few facts about Chicago that you may not know. We boast the:

World’s largest commercial office building (Merchandise Mart)
World’s busiest airport (O'Hare)
World’s largest public library (Harold Washington)
World’s largest Tiffany dome (Chicago Cultural Center)
World’s largest free-admission food festival (Taste of Chicago)
World’s largest illuminated fountain (Buckingham Fountain)
World’s largest convention facility (McCormick Place)
World’s largest parochial school system (Archdiocese of Chicago)
World's largest outdoor block party (Old St. Pat's)

I could go on, but no one wants to read a list of measly items like that. Those aren't the things that truly make this My Kind of Town.

I love this city, and will defend her, for so many reasons that make life LESS stressful. Not the least of these are the fact that this is a beautifully planned, organized, gridded city. It makes sense. It is logical. Eight blocks is a mile. Everything starts at 0 at State and Madison in the heart of the Loop. Addresses on the north and west side of the street are even, the others are odd. It just is easy.

The highways are a tad bit more confusing, and of course they're filled with traffic, but eventually you get used to the fact that they refer to them in names, not numbers, here. After some time you realize that the Kennedy is 90 to O'Hare, and that the Edens is 94 up to the north shore. It eventually dawns on you that the highways going north and south, while sporting the same number, don't always have the same name. I consider it a tourist-check. Just seeing if they're paying attention.

As you clearly know from my many posts about the Chicago Transit Authority (CTA), this city is also home to a fairly big and easy-to-conquer system of public transportation. It's not perfect, and it's not as good as other cities I've visited, but it gets me to and from work for under $4 and under 30 minutes door-to-door each way, so I can't complain.

People, including myself, complain about the weather, the traffic and the lack of free parking (available or non-paid). Gas is almost $4.50 a gallon and despite any denials to the contrary, the snow is coming. But...

It also doesn't stress me out that much. It provides great fodder for this blog, and for a storyteller like me, that actually is decreasing the stress of finding something to write about each day.

Back to the facts, ma'am, you ask? Okay. This city is also the global headquarters to some seriously famous and large companies, including, but obviously not limited to:

Boeing
Sears
Walgreens
Caterpillar
Motorola
Allstate
Kraft Foods
Abbott Laboratories
McDonald’s
Sara Lee
Exelon
CNA Financial
OfficeMax
CDW
Wrigley

So, in summary, in one fell swoop in this city, you can get an airplane, a dishwasher, shampoo, a tractor, a cell phone, insurance, macaroni 'n cheese, pharmaceuticals, a cheeseburger, natural gas, investments, a ream of paper, a computer and a pack of gum.

You can also visit a building with its own zip code, catch an international flight, check out a book, see stained glass, eat more than you can handle, see a fountain that was a gift from a husband to his wife, go to the sales conference, visit a nun, and drink outside at a street festival where you're likely to meet the love of your life (or so they claim).

Not bad! Kindof, well, de-stresses you to have all those things taken care of, no?

That's what I thought.

In case you're still not sold, or you're too ADD to read all of this, you can simply look at the visual aids below (although I guess if you've gotten this far, you must've read something).

In the borrowed words of Stevie Wonder, isn't she lovely?



























































*special thanks to Spudart for some of the gorgeous photos above!*

Forbes, take a hike. Go back to New York. What do you know?