Archives for January 2, 2004

I’m blogging from the apartment of Our Girl in Chicago, who is sitting in her Eames chair (yes, she has an Eames chair!), looking shockingly beautiful as Johnny Cash and the Tennessee Two twang away on the stereo (didn’t I tell you she was cool?).

I arrived in Union Station this morning after a deeply satisfying trip on the Lake Shore Limited, spent the day looking at paintings at the Art Institute of Chicago (about which more later), and now am making ready to go eat tapas and see a performance of A Little Night Music, chauffeured and accompanied by OGIC. One or both of us will report later tonight, or maybe tomorrow. In the meantime, it’s nice to be in the same room as my superlative co-blogger.

More anon. Hope you’re all having a Happy New Year.

Is anyone else out there finding themselves driven headlong from the nice, easy, addictive comforts of Law and Order reruns by TNT’s unbearable new ad campaign for its forthcoming remake of The Goodbye Girl? In case you haven’t been exposed (i.e., you aren’t one of the cult), the advertisement comes in the guise of a full-length music video in which Hootie and the Blowfish (an act I’d managed until now, through sheer dumb luck, to overlook entirely) perform the regrettably catchy title song from the original 1978 movie in painfully bombastic fashion.

I haven’t had the stomach to actually count, but the video-ad seems to appear two or three times per episode of L&O, including once at the pivotal moment before the verdict is read. To quote a more quotable show (L&O is many things, but a fount of witty repart

Happy new year to all! Back in Chicago after a long, pleasant visit with my family, I am sizing up the obstacle course of duffels, overnights, and shopping bags spanning my apartment, and reluctantly accepting that these items aren’t going to unpack themselves and scurry under the bed in an organized fashion. I have my work cut out for me before this place will be fit for the likes of my illustrious co-blogger, who arrives in mere hours.

Christmas was lovely (I’m wearing one of my favorite gifts as I type this, and in fact have barely taken it off for seven days now) but my aesthetic intake was pretty much limited to picking from among the sorry array of holiday wrapping paper on offer this year. Yep, I do consider myself a connoisseur of the stuff. Someday when life is perfect, somebody will pay me money to make up designs for wrapping paper and neckties. In the meantime, my personal cultural drought comes to an end tomorrow, when Terry rolls into town and lets me tag along with him to see a lot of plays and, who knows, maybe some art and cinema into the bargain. However we end up occupying ourselves, it’s a good bet you’ll read about it here.