Whew. I haven’t been in my metblog account in what feels like an eternity. Turns out that exploring Chicago and settling in takes longer than I anticipated.

I’ve been doing a lot of things Chicago-related. Just in the past three weeks, I’ve gotten new ink at Chicago Tattoo and Piercing Company, discovered some amazing food, and seen some great shows.  I’ll save the food and shows for other posts, since I’m a bit backed up. But right now, let’s talk about my tat!

A few weeks ago, when a friend was in town for her birthday, we decided we were going to get tattoos. Kind of an impulse, I know, but it was something I had been thinking about for a while.

I made some calls and was referred to The Chicago Tattooing and Piercing Company (1017 W. Belmont). We hopped on the bus and headed south, and when we walked in the door, we were pleased with our decision.

The business is very clean and professional looking (unlike the place where I got my first tattoo) and the man who did my tattoo (Mike) was lovely. He was patient with me, and he explained everything he was doing as he went along. He even talked me out of getting it on a specific part of my body, because the quality would be bad. He didn’t have to do that, and I know a lot of 19-22 year-old girls that are proof positive that not every tattoo artist does do that!

The whole thing, which I’ll post a picture of just as soon as I have a functional camera, only took about 20 minutes and was fairly cheap….as far as tattoos go, anyhow.

So, if you’re itching for some ink, and I know you all are (right??), head over to the Chicago Tattooing and Piercing Company.  If nothing else, they won’t let you get a bad tattoo….

There have been a couple of bicycling tragedies in the last few weeks here in Chicago, with two vibrant young people (one of them a fifth grade teacher) lost. Both stories are very sad, and very sobering reminders that real dangers exist for city folks who ride their bikes.

Where I’m from, suburban/rural Indiana, the worst hazards a cyclist faced were overzealous farm dogs and the occasional stray litter of pigs spilling out into the road. Here in the city, I’ve learned to watch out for cars, and, more specifically, it’s wise to assume that not only do cabbies not see you coming, they’re actually out to get you. I swear that every time I venture out on two wheels, even in broad daylight, there are at least two or three cabbies who pull sharp u-turns directly in my path, sometimes simply stopping right in front of me. Maybe they think my bike is a hovercraft and I can simply fly over the top of their cabs? I’m not sure. The point is: bike defensively, folks.

Now that the safety lecture is over, ten reasons to ride your bike more:

1. It’s free. It’s not $4.00 a gallon to fuel up, and it’s not $1.75 on your CTA card. Granted, at most gas stations it’s a quarter to pump up your tires, but mile for mile, biking is cheaper than any other form of transportation.

2. A wide range of health benefits: you will increase your stamina and boost your muscle power with all that cardio. You’ll also sleep better and enjoy elevated moods. Winter depression begone!

3. No pee smell, like on the CTA.

4. All that cardio will rev up your metabolism, and prompt your body to crave healthier food.

5. You get cool points every time you walk into a party or other social gathering with your helmet in hand. Double cool points if you rode through even the tiniest amount of precipitation. (”Dude, did you ride here in the rain?” Shrug this off casually with a “Yeah, whatever, it’s cool.”)

6. You’ll also score hot points. Exercise is good for your sexual health and with the inevitable few pounds dropped and an increase in your energy, you’ll be hotter and friskier before you know it. This is also an excellent reason to talk your significant other into joining you in biking adventures.

7. Extra snacking privileges - with all those extra calories burned, you’ll be able to get away with a lot more extracurricular eating, on top of all the veggies and fruits you’ll naturally be craving. Last summer I biked like mad and I was the fittest I’ve been in several years, despite treating myself at least once a week to a nutritionally terrible but utterly delicious McDonald’s cheeseburger and Lay’s potato chip snackstravaganza. (That treat is properly eaten with the chips crushed in the sandwich, by the way. Propriety and decorum be damned.)

8. Related note: food eaten while sitting on one’s bike seat are calorically void* — this includes any and all food purchased from mobile ice cream carts.

9. Enjoying the beauty of nature and the city and its inhabitants. The city observed at a biking pace is quite different from zooming along in a car or bus. You notice and appreciate things you hadn’t seen before. I also love biking up and down the Lakeshore Trail, taking in the fresh breeze, and overhearing tidbits of conversation from fellow park-goers. There’s a lot of marvelous diversity among our fellow citizens, and feeling connected to that is a pretty cool thing.

10. Opportunities to make more friends. Affect bullcrap political motivations for biking and pick up more greenies, hipsters, and vegan anarchists, if that’s your thing, pick up hippie chicks and dudes in bike shops and at red lights if you want to go that way, or join organized events like Critical Mass and make thousands of friends at a time.

On that note, please enjoy this video I made chronicling my first Critical Mass ride, in September of 2007. That was a night to remember — five blissful hours in the saddle and not one, but two amazing post-ride dinners. First, there was a fine beefy meal at Tank Noodle (supplemented by BYOB Guinness), and then, after a nearby birthday party, a 2:00 a.m. run to good old Standee’s on Granville, where I ordered grilled cheese with extra pickles and “whatever kind of pie you have.”

* wishful thinking

Edited to add: this enthusiastic pro-biking post was, indeed, followed up that same day in my offline life by my first real crash, which I wrote about on my personal blog. More of a thump than a crash, and certainly a lesson well-learned: don’t underestimate the might of the Windy City’s wind.

Yesterday turned out to be Incredibly Awesome Thursday, and I’m determined to make it a weekly occurrence. Essentially, Incredibly Awesome Thursday (IAT) involves saying “yes” to something that you normally wouldn’t, perhaps because it sounds boring, it’s too far away and you’re lazy, whatever. My “yes” last night was to a dance performance at the Chicago Cultural Center featuring Matthew Hollis’ and the Power of Cheer. My mom, a former high school cheerleader extraordinaire, was quite keen on going, so I somewhat reluctantly agreed to tag along…and it ended up being awesome. Incredibly awesome, in fact.

Matthew Hollis, an amazing choreographer, dancer, and performance artist, presented a taste of the work he’s developing with a grant from the Chicago Dancemaker’s Forum, a unique blend of cheerleading, modern dance, theater, activism and a little bit of therapy. Hollis and his troupe of equally talented dancers (did I mention they’re all in short shorts?) act out stories from Hollis’ life, including a particularly impressive number performed on teetering stilettos. The cheer that I can’t get out of my head? “Guns are bad, guns are gross, you might as well eat poo on toast!” Well put.

Before the performance, we popped into the Gallery 37 Store, which was chock full of fantastic artwork by Project Onward artists, from colorful silk screened tees and bags to vibrant pastel drawings. Project Onward is an organization designed “to support the creative development of visual artists with developmental, cognitive, and mental disabilities.” Rock on.

We also had a chance to investigate the Puppet Bike, which, unfortunately, was out of commission by the time we arrived, but even the outside of this happy little cart covered in whimsical paintings of frolicking bunnies and kitties was entertaining. According to the Puppet Bike website, the stage on wheels was created by Mr. Trusty for a bipolar friend who couldn’t hold down a conventional 9-5, but the portable theater offered the perfect solution–work when you want, park it when you get bored. I’ll definitely be heading down to Millennium Park this summer so I can see the Puppet Bike in action. (Metblog’s Fuzzy Gerdes beat me to the Puppet Bike punch in his February post, but I just had to ramble on about it again.)

So that, my friends, is what Incredibly Awesome Thursday is all about. Next week–who’s with me?

Fear of Salons, that is.

As a formerly bad-haired child, I’m very weird about who touches my hair. Trust me, you only need to sport a curly mullet once before you learn that lesson. Seriously.

I haven’t been to a proper salon in almost 5 years. A friend of mine is a licensed hair stylist, and she usually comes to my house and does my hair. Except now I live in Chicago. And she doesn’t. So it’s time to move on.

Not many of you out there get the privilege of actually seeing me IRL, but if you could, you’d be all “get a haircut, hippie!” So, I’m on a quest….for the best hair stylist/salon in Chicago. Or at least in Andersonville.

This is not going to be an easy quest - I’m a total hair snob. Call it post-traumatic stress, call it vanity. I call it “I-had-bad-hair-for-the-first-16-years-and-now-I’m-in-charge”. Yeah. I’m picky.

I did some yelping and found Salon 10, a salon that is supposedly an “Andersonville landmark”. It also happens to be less than a mile from my house. They also happen to only charge $45 for a haircut. That may sound steep to the male readership, but trust me, it’s practically stealing. I may be a snob, but I’m also fond of my disposable income.

So, I made an appointment. I happened to get an appointment with the stylist who was raved the most about on Yelp (Ken), so that was a little comforting. In the meantime, any salon feedback would be greatly appreciated, and I will definitely update on Ken’s prowess.

Wish me luck.

Lions and tigers (but probably not bears)!

According to the Chicago Tribune, a “very big cat” is on the loose in North Chicago. If it is, as has been speculated, a wild cougar, then keep an eye on your kids and pets. Cougars are thought to need the meat equivalent of one deer every day. One deer or seven or eight pugs, if you will.

On a side note, 78 people, so far, have decided to take time from their busy days to comment on the situation on the Trib’s website, kicking things off with random short jokes and obligatory John Cougar Mellencamp references. Impressively, it only took 22 posts for someone to explode in pointless, misdirected, anonymous anger. “You sir, are a **** You know absolutely nothinmg (sic) about cats and have the audacity to post here.”

Indeed! The audacity to post a comment on the internet armed with less than all the facts! In a less-than-academic manner! This is the internet, and we are all noble and enlightened communicators, expressing ideas with only the most philanthropic of motivations!

The insulted poster, his hackles then also raised, responded with a lengthy cut-and-pasted quote from an Illinois Department of Natural Resources document, once again restoring justice and balance in the blogiverse.

So, yeah, watch out for wild predators — in Northern Chicago parks and forests, as well as on the wild and wooly internets.

Google did it’s usual pranks for April Fool’s Day. It created gmail backdating, and rickrolled everyone who clicked on videos on the opening page of youtube.

Not to outdone, Chicago had a couple of pranks.

I’m sure you have already seen Time Out Chicago pretending to be bought out by Donald Trump. If not check out the Letter from the Publisher, read the comments and have a good larf (though don’t laugh too hard since Crain’s believed the story at first). TOC also blogged about a new comedy club called Jokeaholics Anonymous set in the Thompson Center and charging $40 a ticket with a three drink minimum. This joke was taken seriously by Stagetime which (unlike Crain’s) has yet to publicly admit that it was a joke.

All of this information appeared originally on the Chicago comedy blog The Bastion on March 27th. Today, the Bastion got into the spirit of April Fool’s day with this post.

Now I have to make sure my roommate did not put any plastic wrap on the toilet.

I’m still new enough to city life that the novelty of public transportation hasn’t worn off yet. Granted, being an independent writer, I don’t have to pack myself like a Lake Michigan sardine into the rolling tin cans of the CTA at rush hour ten times a week to get to an office, which I’m sure sucks the romance right out of the experience.

City trains and buses are great fun for me. I’m from a painfully quiet small town in Indiana where there is very little public interchange among citizens, who mostly drive from home to work to Applebee’s and then home again in giant, socially-isolating SUVs. To me, the CTA is a rolling theater of drama and comedy, and always good for people-watching.

That’s why I was especially charmed by the CTA Tattler’s report that CTA President (and former police officer) Ron Huberman recently masqueraded as an anonymous public transportation hero, and, at 7:30 in the morning, convinced a disrespectful rider to back off the train.

From the Tattler:

“Apparently, a misbehaving guy was making inappropriate comments to a woman about how she needed to wear more clothes, was going to get raped, etc. . . . No one did anything and then out of nowhere Huberman stands up and gives the guy a glare and says, “You’re going to get off the train.”

The guy talked back and Huberman kept repeating. The guy ended up getting out at Addison and Huberman followed him out.

Wow! That’s dedication. If I were still the wide-eyed Hoosier girl I was back in ‘05, a tidbit like this make me wonder if there are Food Protection agents from the Chicago Department of Public Health on hand to snatch day-old hotdogs from my lips when I duck into the 7-Eleven on Halsted for a post-comedy show nosh.

That, uh…that doesn’t happen, right?

I won’t be sending this post to any of my friends, because once they find out that I’m blathering on about the Field Museum’s Evolving Planet exhibit yet again…well, it won’t be pretty. I guess you could say I’m a little obsessed with it, but trust me, I have good reason. I mean, where else could one traipse from the Precambrian to the present in under two hours, taking in such dazzling wonders as authentic Wooly Mammoth turds and suggestive fertility sculptures?
And if you’re in similarly dire financial straits, don’t forget to pick up a Museum Passport from your local library and kiss that pesky admission fee goodbye.

[Photo courtesy of Luke Schierholz.]

…supply the city of Chicago with drums? Apparently just one. Meet Dave Cohen: Dead-head, drummer, vintage drum dealer, and owner of the coolest collection of drums (and cymbals, and hardware, percussion stuff, and…) that I’ve ever seen.

Dave Cohen and a 24″ ride cymbal

It was a dark and stormy night (really, it was), and I was at the Celtic Knot to see Sexfist. I was looking to buy a couple of cymbals at the time, and I was talking to Gus about how there’s absolutely nowhere in the whole entire city of Chicago to buy drums (Guitar Center doesn’t count). Gus, of course, knows every musician and music-related person around here, and he told me about his friend Dave who has an amazing collection of drums and sells them out of his apartment right up the street. Gus proceeded to call him and tell him that we were coming over. So, at half-past midnight, I was on my way over to some guy’s apartment to bang on a bunch of cymbals.

And what an apartment it is–I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves. If you get anything from this post, get Dave’s contact info, and get in touch with him for all of your drumming needs. Whether you’re looking for vintage stuff (read on to see and hear about some really cool vintage stuff), or just reasonably priced non-vintage stuff, he’s got it: 847-UNI-STIK or http://drumshtick.com/drumshtick.html.

But he also happens to be a really cool guy, and he was nice enough to talk to me about stuff like being a founding member of the Dark Star Orchestra, working in the legendary Frank’s Drum Shop downtown, and building this amazing collection. Read on to see the interview, more pictures, and my embarrassing lack of knowledge of Chicago music history.
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I grew up reading Daniel Pinkwater’s children’s books, many of which are set in a thinly disguised Chicago (”Hogtown” and “Baconburg“), populated with eccentric characters of his own creation, like the Chicken Man. Except, of course, that the Chicken Man was real. Man, Chicago’s weird.

(Via a Metafilter post rounding up a ton of Maxwell Street blues performance videos.)