From Dear Diary by Lesley Arfin, one of the new books I'm reviewing this month for UR Chicago:

When I was in middle school, if you did not own a brand new Il Bisonte pocketbook on the very first day of school, then you were basically doomed to be a loser 4ever. BTW, "pocketbook" is the best word. I'm going to startd a band called Pocketbook.

Ah, a girl after my band-naming heart.

In another part of the book Arfin recalls a horrible party she went to in the 6th grade:

About five girls with thick eyebrows and clear braces cornered me. They told me in the nicest way to go home because everyone hated me and I wasn't wanted there. It was hard enough to muster the courage to go at all, but I had this pride thing going on where I wanted to show my ex-friends that I couldn't be controlled, sort of like Bush trying to get rid of terrorism.

Today Byron and I are having a Boys from Jupiter meeting and I mention that I know someone who is interested in us designing wedding invitations for him.

"That's cool," Byron says. I tell Byron that since it's in the planning stages he'd like a quote from us.

Byron pauses, looking like he's deep in thought. "You mean like, a love quote, or a relationship quote, or..."

"Byron," I say, looking at him like he's crazy, "he wants a pricing quote on how much it will cost for us to do the invitations."

"Oh," Byron says. "Well that makes more sense."

Cop Buddy Movies That Were Never Made:

-Cripple & Snoops
-2 Jews & a Gun!
-License to Carry a Nightstick
-Stop! I Just Shot You!
-Racist & Racister
-Hotheadz
-Helf & The Heeb

Two Jews, Lizze and I, discussing the finer points of fake names.

Lizze: I don't like his friends. They're all like, Jewey McJew.
Me: The sole fact that you used "Mc" makes them sound not Jewish.
Lizze: (sigh) Fine, how about Jewey Jewstein?
Me: Much better!

Byron and I design a lot of websites, but one of our favorite clients are the women that run Lovely Bakeshop over on Milwaukee. We refer to them as the Lovely Girls.

Yesterday the four of us were hanging out at the shop, and Gina was telling us about a friend of hers who has also hired us to do their site. "She's a dancer," she says, "and she totally has an awesome dancer's body."

I sigh and share my wish that just once, somewhere in the world, somebody would say, "He's a web designer, and he totally has an awesome web designer's body."

But really, who would that person be?

Last night I met a tranny in a gay bar.

"You look smart," she told me. "It's the glasses," I replied.

We talked a bit more. "You also look straight," she told me. "It's the glasses," I replied.

Evidently the glasses say a lot.

Last night was the first "attack" by Chicago Guerrilla Gardening, my latest in a long line of rambling projects. In case you're unfamiliar with the concept, we go in at night, quickly root around, clean up and plant, and then take off before anyone is the wiser.

"This whole gardening project is kind of like your dating life," a female friend of mine commented. "You're afraid to commit. But you have no problem spending a chunk of time and energy devoting yourself to someone completely, if you can leave them and not have to deal with them later." I looked at her, a bit hurt. "That's...not completely true," I eeked out. Guerrilla Gardening as dating? Interesting.

Regardless, you can read all about the first attack here, as well as view all of our photos of the "attack" (which are also included below).

Last night I discovered my new favorite show, Flight of the Conchords, on HBO.

The show is about these two New Zelanders living in New York, and they end up breaking into song several times over the course of each show. And I think we all know how I feel about impromptu singing.

At one point, after meeting a woman at a party, Jermaine sings, "Lookin' at the room, I can tell that you, are the most beautiful girl in the room. And when you're on the street, depending on the street, I bet you're definitely in the top three good looking girls on the street." He goes on to serenade the girl with, "You're so beautiful, you could be a part-time model. But you'd probably still have to keep your normal job."

View clips from the show here. Or just look below where I've posted the Robots video.

Reggie, the guy I'm a life coach for, has just written an article about dating for Jargon Chicago.

Who needs a drink?

Oh, I forgot to mention. My latest string of book reviews are out in UR magazine. They're given me a page in the magazine all to myself this time.

Check out the site or pick up a copy from your local UR vending box today.

I'm sure you people are tired of hearing how old I'm getting, what with my:

-Being excited about a wrinkle-free Oxford shirt

-Giving up my Chucks for more comfortable, supportive running shoes

-Crying while listening to a segment on NPR

-Love of The Big Chill

Well this morning, while checking on the status of my Visa Rewards points online, I noticed I'd acrued quite a stockpile of points. I browsed through their catalog. iPod docks? Magazine subscriptions? Gift certificates for eating out? No. I used 20,000 points to buy a paper shredder. It seemed like a smart investment. Not just a smartinvestment, but hip one too. That bad boy can handle six sheets and a time, and has a forward and backward setting to help unclog paper jams.

If this is what getting older is like, bring it!

Yesterday I'm IMing with Sonia, a fellow web designer.

Sonia: How's work?
Me: It's okay. No "exciting" projects. Though I'm not sure what would be exciting. Maybe doing Flash while skydiving?
Sonia: That is hot. I like to write Actionscript on the john.
Me: Wow, that gives "on (release) { gotoAndStop (2) }" a whole new meaning.

The other day I read an article in Good magazine about a London based organization called Guerrilla Gardening. The group, started by Richard Reynolds, was created with the intent of planting and landscaping gardens in empty public spaces during the middle of the night. Sounds like a good idea, no?

I immediately flocked to the message boards at guerillagardening.org, only to find that Chicagoans are not the most active group of renegade gardeners (perhaps it has something to do with the fact that Daley is already so beautificationally minded).

Regardless, I plan on finding a small little spot (or two or three) out there in need of a facelift, and taking a stab at guerilla gardening in Chicago. Anyone care to join in and help me out?

Have you checked out One Bad Person lately? It's the blog of Reggie, that guy I'm working as a life coach for.

As much as I want to think that he's making progress, I just don't know. In the past week he has:

-Started sponsoring a third-world child and written a letter to the kid telling him about his eating and TV watching habits.

-Slipped GHB into an annoying person's drink at a bar.

-Talked about his "How Soon is Now?" box, where he keeps the phone numbers of underage girls until they're 18 (at which point he takes the number out of the box and calls them).

-Rattled off a list of things he's done to get laid in the past week.

In retrospect, maybe I'm not doing as good of a job as a life coach as I thought I was.

Worst-Selling Varieties of Sweatpants That Have Words on the Ass

-Fat Ass
-Cellulite
-Cottage Cheese
-Wide Load
-(in small print) If You Can Read This You're Too Close
-Assy

When Paul McCartney was 24 he recorded the song When I'm 64. Today, at the same age, I write a blog of the same title.

Bernadette called me this morning, telling me that she'd just come from Starbucks. "I saw you in 40 years," she tells me. "Me in 40 years?" I ask. This, needless to say, would be me when I'm 64.

"Uh huh," she continues, "He had the same glasses as you, and the same hair, only white. And he was with this woman who looks like someone you would be with. Except, y'know, 40 years older." "Well obviously," I add.

"And they were sitting at a large table with the newspaper spread out between them, and just reading. And I thought, That's Josh in 40 years.

I nod, processing what Bernadette has just told me. "Well, things are looking up," I say. "If that's how it turns out that's not half bad."

Last night at work a certain Chicago news anchor and her boyfriend came into the restaurant. As with any news people (similar to teachers, when you're in the 3rd grade), it's weird to see them out in the world and equipped with their real personality. Hers wasn't particularly flattering.

As we got to the table her boyfriend neglected to pull out her chair. "You didn't pull out my chair," she whined, fake punching him in the stomach. "You're such a bad boyfriend. I'm totally going to break up with you!"

After previously hearing her tell me news from Iraq, it was odd to hear her whine to her boyfriend about pulling out her chair. Shouldn't she be more serious? At the very least, shouldn't she be less of a brat?

While I understand that people have real personalities, quite frankly, I don't think I'll be getting my news from that station anymore.

Today I'm sitting in the window at Argo, doing work on my laptop, when Micah walks by. I knock on the glass to get his attention and walk outside to say hi.

"Is that Kellie sitting next to you?" he asks, looking in the window. I turn and look at the girl seated next to me. "No," I say, my tone confused as to why he would ask that.

"Well she's blond and she's on a Mac," Micah says. "I just assumed."

It got me thinking that when I go out alone I should start hanging out near people who look like friends of mine. Like stunt friends, kind of. Or stand-ins.

"I saw you the other day walking down the street with Lizze," someone could say. "No," I'd reply, "that wasn't Lizze. That was her lookalike, Tracy. Lizze was busy but I couldn't be seen alone."

If this isn't a nitch market waiting to be filled, I don't know what is.

Signs that I'm getting older, numbered for your convenience.

Today I was shopping on L.L. Bean (1), when I came across their great wrinkle-resistant shirts (2). I browsed through the colors and styles, finally finding the one I wanted.

Then, while checking out, I noticed the "Add Monogram" button.

"Ooh! I can have these monogrammed?!" (3) I said out loud. Lizze just rolled her eyes.

My AARP card is already in the mail.

There's a new cable network named Sprout. PBS created it, and it's billing itself as the first and only 24-hour preschool network.

My first question is, what kind of parents have their preschooler watching television at 3 in the morning?

My second question is, what kind of programming is on for preschoolers at 3 in the morning?

These are the things I think about.

Popular items at a restaurant that only serves dishes named after musical artists/bands:

-Nelly Frittata
-Custard Timberlake Pie
-Natalie Creme Brulia
-Soy Division Soup
-Talking Heads of Lettuce Salad
-Bananarama Crepes
-Monte Cristopher Cross Sandwich with Billie Hollandaise Sauce

The other day, while at the O'Hare blue line stop, I noticed this:

Why the hoarding, O'Hare?

Jeez. An entire city completely burns down once and everyone is overcautious from then on.

Right now Florida is in the middle of tropical storm Barry.

I know they just go through a list of names alphabetically to name the tropical storms, but don't you think they should at least have a criteria for names that make it on the list?

Tropical storm Alexander, for example, sounds intense, and the name gives me the impression that the storm is wreaking havok. Tropical storm Barry, on the other hand, makes me think of an older Jewish man with a baldspot wearing a maroon cartigan.

Especially when he's in Florida.

A list of ways to incorporate Yiddish into dirty talk, compliments of Lizze:

You really got me schvitzing over here.
You came. Mazol Tov!
Schlepp that gorgeous tuchus over here!
Do that shtik you do.
I want to lick you from your toes to your pupik.
Nosh on this.
Not tonight, dear. It's such a potschke.