2002-02-01 - 3:44 p.m.

Spending an extra day in Kansas City almost killed me. But I think I did an admirable job of not freaking out, considering the circumstances. What were the circumstances? Well, to impart the full picture would be completely boring. But for a quick glance, picture this: me breaking two plastic scrapers trying to chip an inch-thick layer of ice from every window of my boss's rental car. Then picture me at Laguardia last night, fresh off a prop plane from Philly, a day late and several (expense-able) dollars short, too happy to care that my luggage didn't make that nearly impossible, cross-airport connection like I had.

I am glad to be back! Did I metion that already? I also had a great time in Chicago. Saw Annie, Joe, Ann, Kevin, Ed, Karl, Jaime, and L. Blake. Even ran into Tim Stoner (his real name, but not spelled correctly because I'm going to talk shit about him in a hot second) at this one pretty sweet bar in Wicker Park. Tim spent more than a few hours at the 306 E. Madison castle, and Ann and I were nice enough to the lad. But you know what, sometimes people aren't nice in return. Being the archetypical asshole movie ex-boyfriend of Ann, Tim wasn't even classy enough to pop open his three-year-old can of misplaced rage on Ann. No, he decided he'd take a swipe at me. Asshole. After all that putting up with him for months and months. I think I even went to his lame co-op graduation party. This encounter was one of those times that in retrospect, I should have laid into him and his comically (that comic being "Peanuts") large head. But no, none for me, Tim. Thanks. Keep it.

Otherwise, thanks to Annie for putting me up for three gorgeous, unseasonably warm days and for introducing me to the wonder that is the Hideout, which is my conception of the Perfect Bar. The music was amazing, the dancing was hot, the beer was cold, the beer was cheap, the people were all friendly-like. Some cool lady I was dancing with had even written out her phone number for me before I even said a word. How often does that happen? (That's rhetorical. It never happens.) Lesson learned: Don't move your lips. Just move your feet.