Pigeon Food

Thank you for getting me laid by following Chris on Twitter.  I certainly appreciate it.

We got word today that we are accepted for the castle apartment.  Yay!  It was a very rigorous process, with many calls put in to personal friends and and landlords and supervisors by the prospective landlord people.  This must indeed be a castle full of fine, upstanding gentlefolk.  There's no moat.  It just looks like a castle.  Plus it has lots of Tudor-y decorations on it.  I like it a lot. 

Along the lines of you being excited that Rahm Emmanuel lives in Chicago, I think incredibly stupid things all the time.  When I am visiting my family in Maine, I frequently find my self thinking, "Wow!  There's a Maine license plate on that car!  Cool!"  Then I get used to seeing them, and get all surprised when I come back and see Illinois ones.  I think my best There-May-Actually-Be-Something-Wrong-With-Me moment was walking into Goose Island one time.  There was a small group of people just heading out.  One of them looked a little like me.  "Oh look!" I thought, "There's me!"  It all happened so fast.  What the Hell?  If that person was supposed to be me, who was I?  It was most disturbing that my brain has the capacity for such idiocy.

The coyote man got his popcorn at the Davis, which is very near the coyote house.  Apparently they have a free refill deal, so he would get a refill, and bring it home for the ducks.

Speaking of fowl-feeding, I can't think of anything that makes me angrier than people who feed pigeons.  I literally don't know what to do with myself when I see that.  It makes me crazy.  This is mostly because I have an irrational fear of pigeons.  When people feed the disgusting beasts, more of them come for food.  And more.  And some more.  Stop feeding pigeons.   Then they will die.  And fewer things will smell like shit.  And their cooing won't haunt me when I walk under things.  If I were Indiana Jones, my big dramatic scene would be being trapped in an aviary.  Or underneath the Quincy Brown Line stop.  And I'd go, "Pigeons.  Why did it have to be pigeons?"

Once I got the tasting menu at Blackbird, and was served squab.  It may have been the most delicious thing I've ever eaten in my life.  So, I guess pigeons aren't all bad...