Halloween/Birthday Pictures

Magic 8 Ball and Rubix cube shouting out to the eighties.


Sexy Ninja spitting game on Sexy Cop.


Birthday karaoke! Introducing the Asian Kevin Bacon rocking Footloose!


"I Will Survive" Gap ad.

It's Just a Penny

I was standing in line at Dunkin’ Donuts the other day for my billionth cup of coffee and when the man in front of me received his change, he dropped a penny. I said, “Excuse me sir, you dropped your penny,” and he shrugged and did that little flip of the wrist that says, “It doesn’t matter" (or in some cases says you're flamboyantly gay). What’s that about? Are you too good for the penny? It took at least another minute for his donut and coffee to arrive thus giving him plenty of time to pick it up and a little too much time to look like a jackass (in my opinion). After he walked away, I picked up the penny and put it in the tip jar.

I think there is a divide among people; those that pick up pennies and those that don’t. Separating these two groups even more are the reasons behind the decision to pick up or not to pick up. Maybe the man was embarrassed to publicly make it known that he needs a penny, that he is financially unstable. Maybe he thought that someone else deserved it and leaving it was his way of giving charity. Maybe he was Michael Jordan and mathematically speaking, it really wasn’t worth his time to pick up the penny (although I should hope I don’t think Jordan is a short white guy).

I will admit, for one reason or another, I don’t want people to see me picking up a penny, but damnit! it adds up. My boyfriend picks up every penny he sees…covered in sludge, stuck to the ground, he’s “picked up some scurvy pennies!” as he would say. When he gets inquisitive looks he tells people it’s for good luck.

I guess there’s nothing really to conclude about all this, I just thought I would share the observation and encourage you to pick up pennies, nobody is above it.

D.Riggs

Small Thing: My day (and my friend Timmy’s) can be made by reading the “Stars are Just Like Us” section in US Weekly. (“They make the call signal with their hand!”)

Pictures

Liz and Tony painting pottery at Glazed Expressions, one of the best ways to resort back to 10 year old behavior.


Todd with Yayo, called so because she's all white...I don't like that so I call her kitty.


At Blue Bayou after the Cubs game. Bree putting Moch in her place...Canadian style!

Up Before Noon!

I went down to the Chicago Board of Trade yesterday with my friend, Anne (who works there), to watch the opening. If you're ever looking to stand in a room of about 500 and be the only one who doesn't know what the hell is going on (and everyone knows it), I encourage you to visit the CBOT, just a hop, skip, and a jump downtown. It's kind of like Vegas; just replace the blinking lights with piercing profanities, and the various slots, tables, and general gambling machines with creepy old men. I’m not kidding, these men are the guys who sit at the end of my bar mumbling to themselves and I’m just counting the minutes until they leave (that’s mean) (I tend to preface or conclude sentences by saying “that’s mean” as if being aware of it makes it okay).

It’s such a funny spectacle that money makes. People running around wearing very tacky mesh trading vests, throwing paper, making hand signals, and using a preposterous amount of acronyms (and my boyfriend and dad are military guys so I’ve heard my fair share). Anne kept apologizing because it was apparently slow and boring to her, but I was completely sold on the opening bell (imagine “RINNNNGGG” and then massive amounts of shouting), that was the excitement of my week, well a close second to the dollar I found in my winter jacket.

Speaking of my uneventful, lazy life, my friend Kim was talking about how bad she felt because she was so tired at work during the day, so I told her that when I don’t get nine hours of sleep and an nap around 3:00ish, I’m pretty much worthless…that made her feel better…and me worse.

Ta Ta,

D.Riggs

Small Thing: Seeing a shooting star. It last likes 1/100th of a second and sometimes you’re not even sure you saw it, but it gives you this wonderful sense of smallness and bigness at the same time.

Should I move to Seattle?

Since my move to Chicago about eight months ago, I've managed to sling about 10,000 drinks at people who probably didn't need them, hold down an unpaid internship (and come out completely fruitless maybe even less talented), go out to dinner 6 out of the 7 nights a week, and achieve more consecutive noon sleep-ins than most people will probably have in their whole life. And may I just say, it has been very fulfilling.

I say this all the time, but I'm pretty sure I caught this "lazy bug" in France. Blame France right, or is it Canada? Let's blame French Canada for a compromise. I used to be a very productive student at the University of Nebraska (that's probably an oxymoron) who felt frequent anxiety when there wasn't anything to do. Then I decided to go to France (the South mind you...think Mediterranean, blue chairs lining the street, 2 hour lunches with encouraged wine consumption) for a semester in 2004 (yeah that's right, I've been lazy since then). After my return to the States, I haven't been able to muster up any kind of desire to join the "rat race." (Whenever I use that phrase, I hear this crazy French man that I met in the city singing the Bob Marley song at the top of his lungs outside Tempo at 4 a.m. He was really trying to bring his point home about how lost Americans are in a sea of their own making).

My sister tells me that it's a leisure life. I agree with her because I care about my image. But really, it may be time for me to do something. The sense of urgency isn't there but maybe I can create something artificial. I used to want to be rich. Then I realized that I don't want to do any of those jobs that make you rich because well, as I've been saying, I don't really like to work.

Recently I visited my sister in Seattle and really enjoyed it (picture above is at Lake Serene outside of Seattle). The outdoor lifestyle really suites me and I really think there is something to say about being near the ocean. Even if you don't see it, just knowing it's there seems to make me feel better. So I'm thinking, maybe I'll move to Seattle. Hopefully if and when I move there I'm not thinking, maybe I'll move to California, or Hawaii, or Alaska. Is it unhealthy to move ever 6-8 months? Psychology would probably say I'm afraid of finding my purpose so I'm seeking change to occupy my time and procrastinate my future. I say there is nothing more invigorating than lifting insanely heavy amounts of shit that I had forgotten I bought.

Well welcome to my blog. If you choose to check up and read some of my posts, prepare yourself for a journey through a thoughtful mind of thoughtless material. It seems that my life is queuing in a line and I don't know what it leads to...maybe it's for free Frosties, hopefully.


My sister, Liz, killing a 5.9 lead climb with nine clips! The route was called "Ride 'em cowboy" and if my camera battery hadn't run out you would have seen why. Let's just say that straddling was a helpful skill.


Liz and I on the beach in Discovery Park. Love that laughing cow cheese!

By the way, I apologize for the massive amount of parenthesis I will be using. I'm a big fan.

Until next time,

D.Riggs

Small Thing: The "el" trains in Chicago have recorded speakers that announce, "This is [name of street]." Much to the delight of my friend Michelle and I, the Red Line has a stop named "Grand."


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