Rather than regale the three people reading this with the story of my complete nightmare trying to get home (beginning Wednesday at 5:30pm and ending when I crossed the threshold of my apartment at 7:00pm on Thursday), I'm just going to say this: I walked into my apartment 24 hours after I was supposed to take off from Chicago. Also, I'm tired and my brain hurts.

In other news, the wife's birthday is today, so last night, we went to the River Cafe in Brooklyn. We had a great table with an incredible view of downtown Manhattan, and the food was great. Tonight, we'll be heading out to Keats on the east side for some karaoke. If there's one thing that I do better than brain surgery, it's sing karaoke.

Labels: brain surgery, Chicago, Happy Birthday

Who the hell's been keeping me away from Chicago for this long? Sweet Jewish god, this place is really friggin' great.

It's a cleaner, more compact version of New York with nicer people. Even though I'm on the record saying that New Yorkers don't get enough credit for being nice, if not a little gruff, the people here are so friendly. And not in an uncomfortable or sexual way either. Just regular nice.

Last night, I had a great meal at a local steakhouse. Tonight, I'm off to US Cellular Field (which I understand is surround mostly by crack houses) to watch the White Sox of Chicago take on the Rangers of Texas. The Cubs of Chicago are out of town or I would have headed up to Wrigley Field (which I understand is surrounded by yuppies).

Hey, why not buy my book? It would make a great gift for your graduate or perhaps your best friend who really likes pop culture or maybe even that girl from the mini-mart that you clumsily flirt with when you purchase cat food. All of those people would enjoy it.

Labels: baseball, books, Chicago, Underrated, White Sox