By Drew Adamek

I never thought I would leave the small town I grew up in; as far as I knew the rest of the world only existed in the television. Other cities, other states, were strange, exotic, distant and unreachable places I would only ever read about.
So I’ve kept track of all the cities I’ve slept in and the most memorable night spent in them as a reminder that the world is a lot larger than I can conceive. I love having stories about these cities; I feel like a romantic drifter in a ’40s novel sometimes (especially since I rarely leave the house now). This list isn’t inclusive; it only includes memorable trips.
Here, then, are the (large) American cities I’ve slept in:
1. Chicago.
The once and future home. No need to explain the greatness of this overnight (a lifetime’s worth).
2. Milwaukee.
I had my first heartbreak in this town. I still think about crying on the beach every time I return.
3. Detroit.
I went to a Rosicrucian baptism for my godson. First time I was scared driving through a city.
4. Minneapolis.
Spent an uncomfortable night on the couch after I discovered that the girl I was hitting on at work was my roommate’s girlfriend.
5. Indianapolis.
I slept overnight in the Greyhound station with a hippie chick and a chain-smoking Buddhist monk. We only talked about movies.

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Posted on March 2, 2010

By Steve Yaccino

I was recently jolted from a deep sleep by a surprise 7 a.m. phone call. It was the federal government calling. More specifically, someone from the EPA. It seemed my Freedom of Information Act request was ready. The one I had filed more than three years ago – to track down the yuppie who ratted out the Blommer Chocolate Company. “Do you still want them?” she asked me as if the documents were something she found while cleaning the garage. “Um, yeah.” “Do you still live at the same address?” Since then, I’ve moved five times.
I filed the FOIA request in August 2006 as part of a Beachwood Reporter investigation to uncover the identity of the Fulton River District resident who complained about the smell of chocolate in the air. Since 1939, the neighborhood’s Blommer chocolate factory has pumped its sweet aroma throughout the area and down the capillary avenues that lead to the heart of this city. That smell is a reminder of Chicago’s candy history – the stomping ground for Milk Duds, Tootsie Rolls, Jelly Bellys, and, of course, Wrigley gum. To thousands of workers and residents in the district, the chocolate scent is simply home.
Save one condo dweller. His complaint sparked an EPA citation that found emissions vented from the northeast corner of the factory roof in violation of the 2001 Clean Air Act. To make things right, Blommer would have to install control equipment. Many worried it would also burst the Wonka fantasy.

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Posted on March 1, 2010

By Drew Adamek

I am a Chicago ex-pat. But I love talking about the city everywhere I go.
You know me; I’m the bore who corners you in an airport bar somewhere and rambles on and on about how great whatever that thing I love most is. In my case, it’s the city of Chicago.
It’s a tired cliche that the world equates Chicago with Al Capone; I haven’t found that to be true in my experience. Once in a while, someone will mention gangsters or crime, but most people have other things to say about my beloved home town.
Here, then, are 10 things people not from Chicago talk about when they talk about Chicago:

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Posted on February 26, 2010

By Jerome Haller

Many people show their love and appreciation for others on Valentine’s Day. And a lot of my store’s shoppers did exactly that. They bought balloons, cards, boxes of chocolates and stuffed bears.
Even one of the assistant managers got into the spirit. Normally, he wears a stern expression and doesn’t talk much. That night, he smiled and joked with the staff.
“Maybe he got lucky,” the Cool Cashier said.

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Posted on February 25, 2010

By Mike Luce

From: Denver (DEN)
To: Midway (MDW)
Date and time: Sunday, February 21 – 4:50pm (Mountain)
Gate: C46
Gate/Pilot Announcements: Standard fare, with one brilliant exception. After an additional wait of ten minutes, the gate agent came on to announce that our crew had been located and were on the way.

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Posted on February 24, 2010

By The Beachwood Pancake Affairs Desk

In light of National Pancake Day, we received this press release regarding Miss Illinois, IHOP and Children’s Memorial Hospital. Let’s take a look at each of those elements.
*
***MEDIA ALERT***MEDIA ALERT***MEDIA ALERT***
FREE BUTTERMILK PANCAKES ON FEBRUARY 23 AT IHOP
National Pancake Day Celebration To Benefit Local Children’s Miracle Network Hospital
WHAT: In celebration of National Pancake Day, IHOP restaurants nationwide will offer each guest a free short stack of buttermilk pancakes in an effort to raise awareness and funds for Children’s Miracle Network hospitals. This year, IHOP is hoping to stack up more donations than ever before, with a goal to raise $1.75 million, for a total of $5 million five years with its National Pancake Day fundraising effort. To find a local IHOP or to donate online, visit www.ihoppancakeday.com.

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Posted on February 23, 2010

By Drew Adamek

I left Chicago in 2006; a day doesn’t pass when I don’t think about the Windy City. It is home; it’s where my heart lives. I am glad that I left; otherwise I don’t think I would have ever been able to leave, and there are still parts of the world that I want to see and to live in.
But I do miss Chicago. Everywhere I’ve lived since suffers in comparison. Chicago is still home.
Here, then, are the ten things I miss most about living in Chicago:
1. A Common Enemy.
In Washington, D.C., people have all sorts of enemies – Republicans, Democrats, Chads, Jennas (DC’s Trixies), Rich People, Poor People, Dick Cheney. It’s hard to focus, and you don’t know anyone’s enemy until you ask. But in Chicago, everyone I hung out with had the same enemies: The city, the mayor and Brett Favre. You could walk into just about any bar, coffee shop or office, shout out that you just got a bullshit parking ticket, and everyone commiserated.
2. The Fucking CTA,
It was easy being late to work, appointments or meetings; just blame it on the CTA and you’d get knowing nods in return. However, that also meant that the chances of really being late because of the CTA were pretty good.

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Posted on February 22, 2010

By Drew Adamek

My road from unemployable teenager in Wisconsin to middle-aged, balding, crunchy yuppie in rural Massachusetts is littered with a lot of strange situations, jobs and people.
I dropped out of high school in 1990; I didn’t get my GED until the mid-90s. I graduated from college with honors in 2002. In the interstitial period between dropping out of high school and graduating from college, I worked a lot of shitty, shitty jobs.
I had a bit of wanderlust that took me for stays in Florida, Michigan, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Missouri and Texas. In each place, I had the only minimum-wage jobs a high school dropout could get. I’ve probably had three-dozen or so gas station, assembly line, manufacturing plant and manual labor jobs.
Some things are the same about all crap jobs: the unlivable wages, the degrading and dangerous work, the endless cycle of poverty and wage stagnation. The other truism I found was that there was always going to be a character or two around.
Here then, are the strangest co-workers I’ve ever met.

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Posted on February 19, 2010

By Drew Adamek

Justin Halpern created a firestorm of buzz with his “Shit My Dad Says” Twitter feed, a chronicle of humorous musings from his cantankerous, septuagenarian father. Halpern has more than a million followers and just signed a sitcom development deal with CBS.
Since Halpern is living the wet dream of bloggers and Twitterers everywhere, I thought I would try to cash in too. But I rarely leave the house anymore, and my Dad isn’t nearly that entertaining. In fact, he’s a bit of a homebody too, so I went with the next best thing.
Here, then, is (Boring) Shit My Dad Says:
1. Looks like snow.
2. Turn that down.
3. Nothing good ever happens after midnight.
4. I like margarine better than butter.
5. That Seinfeld is pretty funny.

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Posted on February 17, 2010

By J.J. Tindall

St. Catherine of My Cock
I will never understand.
This is the beginning, and
the end.
I will never understand
what it means to be
a woman.

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Posted on February 16, 2010