List # 3,848,931

People I most hope to see in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame before I die:

1. Tom Waits
2. Lester Bangs
3. Pixies
4. The Beastie Boys
5. The Smiths
6. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
7. The Roots
8. They Might Be Giants
9. Annie Lennox
   
10. N.W.A.
    
11. The White Stripes
12. The Jam
13. Björk
14. Neko Case
    
15. Neil Diamond
16. Warren Zevon
17. Sonic Youth
    
18. The Wu-Tang Clan
    

Please don't tell the ASPCA.

So I've had the new car for a month now and have gotten accustomed to every feature save one - I can't, for the life of me, figure out what this button does:

At least it doesn't collate and staple ...

Rock & Roll, Hoochie Coo.

Well, I can now say first hand that Cleveland does, in fact, rock. Or at least, if it doesn't full on rock, it emanates an unusually pleasant vibe to which one might amble along. John and I hit town on Tuesday evening (making fabulous mileage in the new Hyundai, which Daisy has christened 'Shark', for its dorsal fin/XM radio antenna) and grabbed a bite at a nearby sports bar (the Mongolian barbecue that had been recommended was closed) and crashed at our hotel, the Alcazar (which was the low point of the trip - despite being high on curiosities, as it functions simultaneously as hotel, long term business housing for foreigners and a retirement home, its lack of comfort earned it a solid 'thumbs down' from the Henry/Luzar Board of Review.)

Wednesday morning (after an unpleasant and largely unsuccessful battle with mattress-inspired insomnia), we trundled across town to check out Hot Sauce Williams for some breakfast barbecue, the likes of which I have never before had. It wasn't the best I've ever experienced, but it was one of the more unique sauces ... somewhere in between Chicago sweet and Louisiana hot. Once full of meat, we were off to the crown jewel of the trip, the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame!

The RRHoF was a blast, though the things included just made me want more. Music is such a vast field that every time I came across a choice artifact by one of my favorite performers, I wanted to see other things. For instance, there were only a few Led Zeppelin pieces on display (both belonging to John Paul Jones.) But on the whole it was a very unique and entertaining experience. The one big minus: lousy gift shop. Just the standard caps/mousepads/shotglasses all with the ugly logo and "Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum" emblazoned, and a lot of grossly overpriced compact discs.

That evening we stuffed our bellies with steak at the Cleveland Chop House. I had a fantastic Kansas City strip and some delectable white cheddar mashed potatoes. Also, it seems every place in Cleveland offers beer in two sizes, 16 and 22 oz. Guess which we usually chose.

Finally Thursday morning we made a trek through the Museum of Art, which was surprisingly delightful. The forbidden newly renovated East Wing featured a fantastic collection of paintings and sculpture from Romantic to Impressionism to Modernism to Post-Modernism to Pre-Apocalyptic (including some of the most charmingly pretentious pieces I'd seen in a long time), and the rest of the gallery was quite well stocked too. We did get pushed away from an area containing what I'm sure was either a bastion of mystical treasures or a heist in progress by a condescending Russian docent, but on the whole, the experience was enjoyable.

After that, it was a quick but incredibly satisfying lunch at Yours Truly (housed in America's second oldest planned shopping center) and we were back on the road, Chicago-bound.

On the whole, a very nice getaway, even though very brief. And the best part - I still don't have to be back at work until Tuesday. Ah, vacation, I adore you!

Flee to the Cleve!

I am officially on vacation! I have the whole week off from work and the first order of business is, of course, road trip! John and I will be heading off to the Chicago of the Mid East, CLEVELAND!



Envy me. Envy me till you turn green as asparagus.

Ps. Stupid Hulu commercials. Browse in another tab for 30 seconds, if you like, but please don't hold it against me.

Awesome.

Portrait Of The Artist ...

... as a 31-Year-Old in Need of a Shave

September 12

Today is my birthday. I am thirty-one years old. According to Patton Oswalt, this is not a birthday, and really, after hitting thirty last year, I'm not that excited about being a year older. But it is the way of things, what with linear time always progressing in the direction of increasing entropy, so I have accepted the facts and will do my best to enjoy the day that is, in the most trivial of measures, more mine than yours (unless you are Mary Therese or Lee Newman or Daisy's playground pal Matthew or any one of the other millions of people that certainly share this birthday as well. We can share.)

I have so far celebrated by waking up far too early, discovering a new cavity, and going to someone else's birthday party (the aforementioned Matthew.) If that's sounds gloomy or depressing, then let me spin it and say I am also having a terrific day. My early wake up was a shiny blond toddler smiling and saying "Happy Birthday Baba!", which far and away outcharms my alarm clock. And Matthew's birthday was a blast - held at Pump It Up: The Inflatable Party Zone, and chock full of bouncy glee, as well as pizza and cupcakes (Daisy continues to amaze me with her dexterity and resilience when the grail at the end of the quest is a pink iced cupcake.)

I guess there really isn't a positive spin to put on the cavity. Stupid inconvenient flossing!

The rest of the day appears to be similarly pleasant: Daisy and I are about to head to the playground, then will go out to dinner with Heidi. Tomorrow night I will be imbibing birthday beer at the Long Room on Irving Park, so feel free to stop by.

Daisy's movie is over - we are off to Bixler! Happy Birthday to me!

Swimming with Sharks

Back in Chicago after the briefest of jaunts west to share the ladies' final weekend in La Jolla at Grandma's house. And it was absolutely magnificent! I have not swum in the ocean or sat on the beach in ... well, possibly ten years. Grandma (sometimes also known as Jackie) is a magnificent hostess with a beautiful home and a terrific hot tub - which I was immediately ordered to jump into by Commandant Daisy.

In addition to playing the beach bum, Heidi bought me my birthday present (early, and wonderfully timed): my first ever pair of Ray Ban sunglasses. They are black Wayfarers with blue trim; Heidi dubbed them "Elvis Costello meets Risky Business." I approve.

We also made a trip to the aquarium, where the above photo was taken.

Oh, and the title of this post comes from a moment of the third day. After spending plenty of time observing specimens at the aquarium, we made a trip to the beach. As I was making my way back to shore, I looked down and saw something moving past me. The thought process that followed went something like this "Oh look, a shark, no wait, sharks are dangerous, that was just a fish that nope, nope that's a shark alright, well then let's make our way towards shore, yep, shark, actually that's awesome, where did it go? I want to see it again and also avoid it, Shark!"

In the words of Tracy Jordan, "Live every week like it's shark week."