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  • Writer's pictureLeah Jones

Finally, Geoff, your in my blog.

This is the longest I have gone without writing, while I’ve had access to a computer. But when I can be in my own bed, with my cat, listening to NPR or Johnny Cash–why sit at my desk and write?

Anyway.

I started my weekend right–with the Gypsy Skillet at Le Sabre Diner at Montrose and Damen. Andy and I went down for brunch and bottomless cups of coffee. Yeah, it was Stewarts coffee and not Kona, but it was a bottomless cup in the truest sense. A couple hours of coffee later, I headed back to the apartment for nap and to wait for my parents.

My parents got to town and within five minutes my dad asked, “Are you hungry yet?” “Yep, but I need to call Geoff first.” Geoff is a friend from college and we have recently rekindled our friendship. That is the magic of email at work. Geoff gathered his things and met us at Sweet Occasions while we were having a pre-dinner Kona coffee. We headed the only place we go for dinner when my parents are in town–Tango Sur.

Time for some good Argentine beef. Yum. We were able to get a seat right away and parking–both unheard of at the Southport hotspot. Here is how blogs can make your life wierd: my parents have never met Geoff and Geoff has never met my parents. They all read my blog daily and know all the same things about my time in England. They could have talked about me all night if I hadn’t been there and it made them something other than strangers. It is an information bridge in the six degrees of seperation.

After dinner, my parents headed back to McCormick’s Place Hyatt. Geoff and I headed to Maggie and Steve’s Fuck Winter party. The tropical punch, Beach Boys, leis, and sandles were in full force. Well, except for the Beach Boys. Lots of co-workers came to say Fuck Winter, but lots let the cold keep them home.

Before the party Geoff and Scott (my roommate) got into a “who’s more indie rock” battle. Geoff dropped the more obscure reference and apparently won. Then we got to Maggie and Steve’s and Geoff saw their CD collection. He nearly fainted. Here was someone who could take the indi rock king label from him. But, he managed to request a band that Steve did not have in his collection of hundreds of CDs. Apparently, Geoff won again. I don’t understand all the rules of Indie Rock battles.

I spent most of the night pretending like I understand futbol (soccer) talking to a man in a Boca Jrs. Jersey and Laura’s husband–a huge futbol fanatic. Around 1:00 AM, the jet lag got the better of me and I dragged Geoff out to get a cab. Our polish cab driver told us stories of people being sick in the cab and cabs getting t-boned on Fullerton. This cab drive I didn’t feel wierd being on the right side of the road, but I think the spatial demension part of my brain is upset.

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