Thanks for Coming to Lincoln Park, Kuma's Too!

I still have never eaten at the original Kuma's on Belmont. John and I showed up once 10 minutes before the place opened for the day and we were yelled at by a heavily tattooed girl behind the bar that they were still closed. If I wasn't starving, I would have had the sense to retort and ask 'Then why is the damn front door open?'. But I digress, we left and had not had the chance to make our way out there since.

But happily, a couple of weeks ago Kuma's opened their 2nd location at 666 W. Diversey in the old Counter location. Honestly, the space felt to 'clean' for a burger place that has made its reputation on being 'metal'. Sure, all of the staff have full tatoo sleeves, wear ironic shirts, have funky hair colors, and seem to enjoy being rude to the customers. They basically are non-conformists that all do the exact same thing as the next person to stand out. And still have the audacity to look at me as though I am any ordinary 'yuppie', go figure. But something about pumping loud music into a clean cut space just doesn't quite settle right. Sure, the walls are covered with vintage posters of famous metal bands (Metallica, Judas Preist, etc.), and by covered, they are all neatly framed and hung evenly. And they also try to prove how 'edgy' they are by hanging naked lady pictures in the hallway back by the bathrooms.

If Kuma's wants to be a Lincoln Park metal bar, then they should do it. Not conform to some watered-down idea that they think the Lincoln Parkateers would be happy with. It's insulting to those of us who live in the neighborhood and actually appreciate it for being a diverse area with something for everyone. Sure, we have DePaul University and annoying college kids, Wrigley Field and drunk ex-frat boys, and entitled stroller bitches tooling up and down the neighborhood streets with their Bugaboos. But, we also have establishments that have stood the test of time regardless of the changing environment. You don't see establishments like Delilah's, Neo, the L&L, or even the Metro trying to change who they are to make the Yuppie Brigade happy, do you? And these places have been open since before I was born.

Because, unlike Kuma's, these places that have stood the test of time and realize that the majority of the annoyances that I mention above are temporary blips in the life of Chicago. Inevitably, the annoying DePaul Student becomes the Wrigleyville ex-frat boy who will meet a vacant trixie and they then morph into the Yuppie parents. And before you know it they have shipped themselves out to the suburbs and oblivion. Then there are the rest of us who, sure at one time were probably annoying college kids, but who have grown up, own homes, hold down good jobs, and have made the decision to make Chciago a permanent home. We just prefer to live park and lake adjacent rather than be conformist cool and live in Logan Square.

On a positive note, I am in love with Kuma's burgers. We went last Friday after work and I am still thinking about my meal and trying to come up with any excuse to go back, and soon! I also liked the loud music, absence of TV's, and booze selections. It is a great addition to the neighborhood for those who appreciate an alternative to a sports bar. Kuma's Too just needs to drop the perception that they only dane to be part of the Lincoln Park community instead of actually being a member.

The Lies Carrie Bradshaw Told You

To pass the time when I am home alone my favorite thing to put on the TV is 'Sex and the City'. I have never been able to decide whether or not I am one of the legions of women who love the show and see it as an instruction manual for life or if I just actually hate it.  Sure I love the fashion, the raunchy good humor, curly girl hairstyles, and watching the show satisfies my secret love of New York City. But damn, is Carrie Bradshaw annoying.

Case in point, I can feel my blood pressure spike in the 2nd season finale when Carrie is walking away from Mr. Big after celebrating his engagement to a 20 something year old girl with a normal nose and she theorizes:

"Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they need to run free until they find someone just as wild to run with." - Carrie Bradshaw

I'm so independent and AMAZING! And my face resembling a FOOT only adds to my charm!

However, my personal feeling is that this quote is actually a mask for something that much more resembles this:

A more believable assessment, no?

Every insipid, insecure, perpetually single girl I have ever known has had this quote plastered all over her dorm room, Myspace (I'm dating myself), Facebook page, and man hatin' Pinterest board since it was first uttered a decade ago. "Stupid" girls cling to this quote because there is absolutely no possible way that their boyfriend or husband leaving them was any fault of their own. As the only explanation their man could have left them is because they are just way to wild to be handled.

But the reality is, we are all responsible for our own actions and sometimes relationships don't make it. And if this relationship didn't make it because in your mind you were to busy 'running wild and free' and your man just couldn't deal with it, it probably means that you're a crazy bitch. These women should stop fooling themselves into thinking their guy didn't want them because they were not the 'simple girl' they tell themselves he actually wanted. Truth is, he wanted a sane girl that has her shit together. To be fair, nobody is 'simple' we all have our own crazy. But the real difference is that the so-called 'simple girl' isn't also a selfish floozy.

So ladies, take that stupid quote down, get your shit together and stop being a selfish floozy. In time, perhaps you will be a lot happier and maybe even start looking up to yourself instead of fictional Carrie Bradshaw.

Seen Outside the Neighborhood Starbucks...

You know, I think this could work. 

Fuck You February, You've Won Again.

How is that February is the shortest month of the year, yet the longest?

There is a part of me that loves winter. I look forward to the time of year when I can bundle up in my cute winter accessories and cozy up with John in a warm pub like Duke of Perth for all we can eat fish and chips and sip Hot Toddy's until we begin to drift off at the table (it only takes two, BTW).  Getting out of the house and the cold sun will be shining for Saturday afternoon walks to Starbucks, window shopping on Broadway and evening treks out to Lincoln Park Zoo for ZooLights and hot chocolate.

Then February rolls around and BAM! The sun has not shown itself in days, maybe weeks, it is cold, dreary, and the city seems cruel. I find myself doing little more with my time outside of work than watching really bad TV on the CW and living off tortillas that I char on the stove and melt cheese on.

I wonder why on 'Hart of Dixie' that it never seems to get cold or cloudy in the quaint little town of Bluebell. And how on earth you can find a Southern town in Alabama with that many attractive people? Not a single person in that town resembles the meth-heads I usually come across when I am on the other side of the Mason-Dixon line.

I watch 'The Carrie Diaries' and wonder when that cute-as-a-button AnnaSophia Robb will begin to resemble the original Carrie Bradshaw. Will she be hit by an MTA bus on the way to her unrealistic, yet fantastical, fashion magazine internship resulting in that famous crooked schnoz? Or how about when will she pick up that nasty cigarette habit that was such an integral part of Carrie's character on 'Sex and the City'?

On Thursday's I tune into 'The Vampire Diaries'. OK, well that is only because that guy who plays Damon is hot. I have no other excuse. It's not because the writing this season is just 'soooo good' with the convoluted plot lines and 'whoa-is-me' attitude of the main character, Elena. There are times when watching the show I just wish Buffy would show up and knock some sense into all of them.

When I am not glued to the television, I find myself fantasizing about living in an endless summer. Like going back to Hawaii and trading in my job and Blackberry for a retail position and nights spent at beach parties. Or I even begin to convince myself that Los Angeles wouldn't be such a bad place to live, even though if you approached me in any other state of mind than the one I'm in in February I would argue that nothing could be worse than living in that congested, dirty suburgatory.

The truth is, in February, being anywhere is better than being where you are. And dreaming about better days when the sun is shining and the city is alive again are in reality just one way to cope with this most depressing month of the year. Longing for summer that is just around the corner and once again getting to live my life in sundresses and sandals while heading out to the nearest street festival to shop the artwork and drink beer while listening to the cover bands.

But for today, on March 5th 2013, February still has its grip and Chicago looks like this:

Forced to reserve our parking via lawn furniture. 

Braving treacherous afternoon Starbucks trips

And finally, working from home because it's just too damn cold.

Fuck You February, I hate you.