Mood:
chillin'Now Playing: Gypsy Kings
Yesterday I saw some animals at the Lincoln Park Zoo, or, as I call it, that Zoo that killed all those elephants.
Allow me to list them:
Chipmunk
Birdies (scientific name: small birds)
Rabbit
Children
Flamingoes
Cheetah that was panting like a dog in the heat
Camels
Pigeon Lady
That's it. After hours of walking around and a four-dollar train ride. Ok, the Pigeon Lady made it worth it. She was down by the lake with about 100 pigeons surrounding her. As she fed them, she kinda cooed and talked to them and pigeons actually were in her hair, and fluttering, hovering in the air right in front of her. It was kind of like that scene in Snow White where she's whistling and birds and animals all surround her, except with less singing and more pigeon shit.
Here's a word of warning about zoos in the summertime. The animals, being not entirely stupid, hide inside where it's cool. The humans, being entirely stupid, pay to walk around outside to see where they would be. So from June-August the zoos are not so much zoos as they are giant lemonade stands with the most expensive parking in town.
After the zoo disappointment, I got to see a Sox game. This is not my first game, and previously whenever those chicks in the scantily clad outfits would come out and throw t-shirts into the crowd, I'd stand up and wave like an idiot trying to nab one. And I'm generally pretty unlucky. I get in the wrong checkout lanes. I go to the ATM when it's out of cash. I buy things the day before they go on sale. This time as the ladies were hurling shirts into the crowd, I sat still, focused on shelling a peanut. And that's when luck fell into my lap. Or, more accurately, bounced off the screaming idiot in front of me, and I nabbed a 75% White Sox 25% Chicagoland General Motors t-shirt.
As luck would have it, my newfound fortune was amost compromised when some fellows in the row behind me, who had been commenting on most of the game in English and some other language but both very loudly, reached down and intended to grab the balled-up shirt right off my lap. A pacifist through-and-through, here was my response:
ME, clutching shirt and glaring: "What the hell are you doing?"
HIM: (nervous laugh)
ME, puffing out shirt: "Hey, while you're at it, why don't you take this one right off my back?"
Some people belong in a zoo.
