Not your average suburban mom. I’m more your typical, normal, commonplace, everyday, garden-variety suburban mom. With a thesaurus.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Chi-Town, Mangina, and the JCSS Cover Band - Part One

I have a brother.

Here we are at Warrior Dash 2011 being sexy.

His name is Steve.  (Although, as children we used to refer to him as "Little Laura.")(Because our mom hoped thought it was another girl and that's the name she picked out.)  Steve is the younger of my two siblings.  He's the baby of the family and got away with murder growing up.  (Spoken like a true first child who had a rule for everything and totally isn't bitter about the way her parents chilled out for children #2 and #3.)(Cassie and Steve, you can totally thank me later.)(Preferably with some kind of extravagant gift.)(Wrapped in actual wrapping paper, Stephen.)

Steve moved to Chicago a few years ago and I had yet to make a trip out there to see him.  So when my mom called me last week and asked if I'd like to take a last minute all expenses paid trip to see him without my kiddos in tow I was all, "Twist my arm why don't you."

We left my house on Saturday around 9:00 a.m. Michigan time.  We drove to Chicago in record time if you subtract all the pee breaks that were necessary due to someone's incontinence issues.  We arrived in Chicago at the same time as some torrential rain.  And traffic.  A lot of traffic.  The rain and traffic coalesced to form the most amazing version of bladder torture.  Both Cas and I were all, "we're totally not going to need another pee break before Steve's house,"  and then the traffic and rain were all, "Ha-ha, don't count your chickens just yet, dude."  (I don't even know if that expression works here, but I was thinking of my bladder, which made me think of my ovaries (obviously), which made me think of eggs, which made me think of chickens, so, there you go.)

The closer we got to Steve's, the tighter we held our legs together, and the more tense we became. (Because Cassie is awesome she sent Steve a text hinting that the bathroom should probably be available the nanosecond we arrived at his house.)(Steve is also awesome and texted back that he was thinking about pooping and hadn't yet decided, so we'd have to wait and see if there would be a bathroom ready.)(Because I am awesome I told Cassie she could go first when we got there.)(But only because the unspoken rules of Potty Dibs clearly indicate that the person to first mention the need to pee officially has primary bathroom rights.)(And that just happened to be Cassie.)(This time.)(I won't be so quiet next time.)

We arrived at Steve's house around 12:30 Chicago time.  It's much bigger than I thought it would be, and also (sadly) much better decorated than my own home.   I mean, the man has a Tinkerbell shower curtain.  Steve lives with two roommates named Doug and Billy.  Doug and Billy have known each other forever, mainly because they are twins.  They are also Toledo boys, and I've been there a few times, so right away we were able to discuss the awesomeness of the Toledo Zoo.  (In hindsight, I can't believe I didn't bring up The Toledo Mudhens, because I occasionally attend their minor league baseball games, and one time I saw Crystal Bowersox there.  That's kind of an impressive name to drop, so I can't believe I missed that opportunity.)

We walked to a restaurant called the Boiler Room where you can get a piece of pizza, PBR, and a shot of Jameson for $7.50.  This is one of Steve's favorite breakfasts.  I had the "Purist" - pizza with fresh mozzarella, basil, and a balsamic reduction.  It was delicious.  I also had a Diet Coke, and totally stayed strong while my alki brother tried to get me drunk.  (Not really.)(But he did offer me his extra shot.)(Because he was raised to share his alcohol. Because we are Irish.)

Cassie and I at the Boiler Room.
I'm going to end Part One here, but not before I tell you about my newest musical venture.  It turns out that Steve has found kindred spirits in his roommates when he discovered they each harbor an intense appreciation for the rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar.  Over lunch, Steve and Doug were discussing the possible formation of a JCSS Cover band, and I figured this was totally my moment. I, too, can belt out some JCSS at a moment's notice (or even without any warning) so I figured I was totally in to be Mary Magdalene.  I mean, my brother is going to be Judas.  And Doug was going to play Jesus, and I was sitting right next to him, so just by the rules of proximity, I was the obvious choice to cast in the only female singing role.  But when I volunteered my services, Steve was all, "Yeah ... we'll see."


This may have been the second time in my life I've been rejected from a band that doesn't even exist. This is probably how the Beatles felt when Decca Records turned them down.

Stay tuned for Chi-Town, Mangina, and the JCSS Cover Band - Part Two.  There will be redemption. And a Super 8 Motel.

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