Last night Brian and I ate dinner at a nearby Italian restaurant. Long after we’d begun our meal, a party of 4 (2 couples) was seated at the table next to us. The initial conversation they had, which we couldn’t help hearing because of our proximity and because of the one guy’s booming voice, was about some Japanese restaurant, the name of which I didn’t catch.

One woman was so fascinated that she asked the conversation starter how the tables were set. I didn’t hear his answer but I imagine chopsticks were involved. Certainly this is a valid question because we Filipinos, for example, set our tables with a plate, a fork, and a spoon. No knives. Anyway, all 4 of them, who were all white, went on and on and on about various Asian cuisines and restaurants, mentioning a nearby Korean place whose name they didn’t know but that they see Koreans going in and out of there all the time. So it must be good, right? Kind of like Chicago Living Tip No. 22.

Should I have been offended? I don’t know, but I was definitely annoyed and Brian knew it. Finally, in a fairly loud voice, Brian asked “What do white people eat?” And, being not only white but from Iowa, he proceeded to tell me.

Recently, Brian and I went to the other nearby Walgreens that we don’t go to because several years ago they pissed me off for some reason that neither of us can remember, and at the time I DECREED that we would never shop at that Walgreens ever again but would shop at the other nearby Walgreens instead. Until a few weeks ago. Well. Unlike the Walgreens we usually go to, this other Walgreens does not lock up their deodorant (see here). And they’re mere blocks apart from each other. Interesting, huh? Not really.

Anyway, we won’t be shopping at that other nearby Walgreens again anytime soon because when we were there, Brian went down the paper goods aisle and I waited at the end until he turned around to face me. I had picked up a soccer ball from the bin at the end of the aisle and planned to drop kick it to him, knowing that I’d miss because I’ve never in my entire life successfully drop kicked a ball. He grinned and nodded his encouragement, so I drop kicked it, kicking my leg really hard because I knew I would miss it anyway. The ball went sailing over the shelves into the next aisle.

Although we hadn’t finished our shopping, I thought it was a good idea for us to just get out of there with what we had; Brian agreed. As we made our way down the aisle toward the front of the store, who should come around the corner carrying the very ball I successfully drop kicked but a Walgreens clerk. I mumbled something about it being an accident and we got the hell out of there.

First of all, what’s all this crap about changing the name of the Sears Tower to the “Willis Tower” or whatever the fuck the new owners want to change it to? Pfft. That’s like renaming Wrigley Field, know what I’m saying?

And get this — the other day Brian and I had lunch in The Neighborhood, where a quarter gets you an hour at a parking meter. Imagine our surprise when we discovered that now, an hour costs 4 quarters! WTF. It’s even more expensive in other neighborhoods. Christ. Apparently, Da Mayor leased the meters to some company for the next 75 years. You read right: 75 years, and I’m not shitting you. Oh, but get this — parking ticket fines still go to the City!

I’m not even going to go into how bad the streets are with some serious potholes from this past winter, and that it seems like nothing’s being done about them. Or any time soon, at least. Bad enough the City took forever plowing the snow.

You know what’s happening to this City? I’ll tell you what’s happening: it’s going to be the end of the Daley Dynasty, that’s what.

Not because “It has seen the end of Kenobi,” but because Brian and I finally, finally, FINALLY got to eat at Hot Doug’s! We’ve driven past it over the years as it’s only a couple of miles away. It looks like your typical corner hot dog joint, except their sign contains words like “sausage emporium” and “encased meats.” So I figured they also sold like, those really long links of sausage wrapped around a rod near the counter or something, like at a deli. Yuck. Who’d want to eat there and have to look at that?

This past summer a friend in Arkansas asked if we’d ever eaten there. I was like, “uh…no.” I asked how she’d heard of it because it isn’t a chain, like Gold Coast Dogs. Well, she saw a segment about it on the Travel Channel! And she was like, “Yeah, it’s supposed to be really good.”

So Brian and I went that weekend. OMFG. The line went out the door, around the corner, and halfway down the block. You’d think it was the hottest new club, except that it was about 2 in the afternoon, not in the morning. The place closes at 4, so we couldn’t have dinner there.

I figured our best bet would be to go on a weekday while everyone else is at work. So we tried again this past fall, on a day Brian had off. We went about 1pm and there was still a line out the door! I didn’t realize that the electric company has a plant nearby and people were probably on their lunch hour. Finally, today, in 8° frickin’ Fahrenheit weather, we achieved our goal!

It was packed, and there was a long line inside, but at least it wasn’t out the door. I realized that all this “sausage” and “encasing” on the sign business was because they serve not just hot dogs, but chicken sausages and whatnot. One of today’s specials was rabbit sausage infused with brandy (WTF does that even mean?) with all these fancy trimmings like foie gras mousse and raspberry mayo. Yuck.

Me, I had the mandarin orange/teriyaki chicken sausage with some kind of cheese I never heard of; I passed on the fancy “dijonnaise” that went with it — not a fan of mustard. It was good. There were bits of orange inside the sausage but it didn’t taste very teriyaki. The cheese (Esrom) was good, mild. Overall, my choice was a bit bland, so I’m thinking I should’ve been brave and went with the dijonnaise, which probably would’ve given it more taste.

Brian’s was better. He had the “Cristobal Huet,” which I should’ve ordered just on principle, but I was scared off by the seaweed. I tried it and it was awesome! The sausage was way more spicy than the menu’s description of merely “spicy.” Yum! Brian actually refilled his drink three times! Seriously!

Both of our orders were from the specials menu, which changes each day. I don’t even know if they ever have the same one twice! But anyway, the whole point is that we finally got to eat there!