First Fridays fun

I went! Yay for me.

Met up with a girl I met at a bar (nice, because it's harder to meet girls than guys, and she's a sweetie) and some of her friends, and we looked at some art and ate some apps. The headline Tropicalia exhibit's really cool; accessible and fun, in contrast with Dan Flavin, the last artist I saw at FF, whose art you sort of had to put up with and struggle to find interesting or pleasing points about. Tropicalia featured everything from adorable '60s poly dresses to media by hippies who look exactly like our own, and a song, "Prohibido prohibir," taken from the French redical cry of the time, Il est interdit d'interdire. I learned more Portugese, too: Seja Marginal Seja Herói; Be an Outlaw, Be a Hero. I like that. It was a cool exhibit.

After they rolled on to some kind of DJ show or something I stuck around to spend my drink tickets and ended up talking to a group of three guys (gotta love that), who reminded me of my DC crew--whoops, you haven't heard that one yet, but you will soon. Anyway, I loaded the gun right, but totally misfired (hmm, that's a rather violent metaphor, Elle, where'd that one come from?) because I had my eye on this cute dark-haired guy, but the leader of the group was Luke, a handsome beachy type. He was so outgoing and friendly that I ended up doing all the talking to him, while struggling to make eyes at dark Sean, so it was like:
Luke: What brings you to Chicago?
Elle: (puzzled look)
Luke: Because you have an accent.
Elle, to Sean: No way! You think I have an accent?
And like that. They thought I had an English accent, which I so don't. (I started listening to myself and decided that I bring my voice up at the end of a question, whereas some Americans just make theirs louder, which might have been where they were getting that, but anyway, please.) But next thing I know Sean with excruciating obviousness switches places with Luke so he's next to me and Sean's talking to the sidekick, John, and I was like, crap! Because of Luke's gregariousness I failed to communicate with the guy I was there for. That, or Sean just didn't like me.



Nah!
But Luke actually turned out to be cool (and was an undeniable cutie) and got my number at the end of the evening, so I was happy. He's moving to Columbus or something next month though. Grumble.
Wonder if his buddies will ever go back to the MCA . . .

Today's pressing question

Should I go to First Fridays at the MCA tonight, though all my usual escorts are out of town?

 

Or should I go home and be lazy?

Taste Just Like Mandy

Have I told you about how my roommate has the shittiest taste in movies E*V*E*R? I didn't know anyone in the world actually liked With Honors, the flick about a Harvard undergrad who learns the Real Meaning of Life through befriending a homeless guy, except one of my boyfriends who once made me sit down and watch every puke-inducing minute of the damn thing, and in retrospect, I marvel that I didn't break up with him on the spot, except that he was really hot, but my roommate owns it on VHS. I mean, all I have to tell you is that the woman owns Kate and Leopold, like, the single most laughable movie ever. But I had a strenuous vacation and am in the mood to veg, which is why I'm sitting here tonight having a Mandy Moore-fest. Actually, nothing against the actress. I think she's darling and genuine, and her cover of "Someday We'll Know" in A Walk to Remember is a fantastic version of one of my favorite songs. But you know the movies they put her in. Deliberate dialogue and radio soundtracks and high school boys asking people out on real dates--ha ha. That's okay, I'd been feeling like I had a few too many brain cells recently, anyway.

Overheard on Washington and Wells

Italian tourist, spying the El, to her boyfriend: "Oh, look! It is the sky train. I want to see!"

Even when I went to Disney World as a little tot, I thought it odd how excited everyone got about the monorail. You'd think la signorina there would recognize that all that matters is whether the thing runs on time . . .