Dear Poor Lucky Me,

 

I just don’t understand what I was doing before I got my iPhone.

 

How did I get anywhere without the little GPS? How did I entertain myself when I had to wait in lines without Scrabble and Solitaire and Tetris and email and You Tube on my phone?

 

More importantly, what will I ever do if I’m out somewhere and the battery runs out. Or, God forbid, I lose it? I think I’d be wandering around the city, crying and scared until some one picked me up and forced me into sex slavery.

 

Is this a common fear?

 

Signed,
I’m Delicate

 

Dear I’m Delicate,

 

Well I can say with certainty that before I had my iPhone I rarely left the house. I used to have a compass in my car that kept me oriented, but if I had to travel by foot I was terrified.

 

I tried to learn how to tell time by watching Crocodile Dundee on a continuous loop one weekend, but I ended up just falling in love with Paul Hogan. To this day there is a court order that prohibits me from calling or sending any packages to his home. That’s unfortunate because I think that Paul, or “Croc” as I call him, and I would be the greatest of lovers and friends. We’d have that kind of relationship where you just feel like you can’t even breath with the other person I had a bidet installed in my apartment so that if he ever does come over, he’ll have a place to wash his socks.

 

Your fears about sobbing in public and being sold into sex slavery are very common, and very real. I know they’re real because I live across the street from where Dick’s Last Resort used to be. Every Friday and Saturday night I get asked where Dick’s relocated and I can just tell it’s code name for something really scary. Because no one in their right mind actually wants to go to that restaurant/bar, and you know it.

 

Sincerely,
Poor Lucky Me

Dear Poor Lucky Me,

 

What do you think about the balloon boy incident? I followed the story with great interest that entire day, but once found out the parents had already been on Wife Swap I got suspicious.

 

Plus, who has a balloon strong enough to carry their child away just sitting around in their yard?

 

Signed,
Nice Try

 

Dear Nice Try,

 

I never actually thought the little kid was in the balloon, because what the hell kind of Mylar balloon can carry off a six year old? Then later some one told me that weather balloons are designed to carry like 60 pounds of equipment. But since I didn’t know that at the time, I assumed it was a sham.

 

Turns out I was right- not because of the science I assumed I understood but because the family was a weirdo reality television family. I loved how every time a news person would ask the little kid what he meant when he said “we were doing it for a show” he would barf. It would be useful if all humans had that quality. I mean it would be gross, but it would out a lot of liars and cheaters.

 

I’m a sympathetic barfer though, so I guess I’d be worried that I’d always be barfing in the presence of liars, thus falsely implicating me as a liar. On the other hand, I could prove to people that I was telling the truth by not puking when asked about being a sympathetic puker. So, I think I’d be safe.

 

Sincerely,
Poor Lucky Me

Dear Poor Lucky Me,

 

Life has it’s ups and down and I accept the good with the bad. I’m generally a pretty happy person and feel good about the world I live in.

 

Except when it comes to french fries. Why in the hell can’t people get fries right? Is it so hard to serve them crisp and hot? How can anyone live with themselves serving up cold or mushy fries? Bad fries make me question the innate goodness of humans.

 

Yours Truly,
Jeff

 

Dear Jeff,

 

I know a cab driver who owned an Italian Beef stand in the 90’s. He is a proud man and asked me to spread his message about fries.

 

The debate will rage on forever about cut size, frozen vs unfrozen, seasoning, and paper tray vs paper bag. But my friend insists that the only difference between delicious fries and bunk ass fries are Idaho potatoes. He says they are more expensive, but longer and meatier and make premium fries.

 

Smaller potatoes are cheap and have therefore infiltrated hot dog and Italian beef stands all around the city. They’re like Chinese cashmere: it all looks the same until you get home and realize you got what you paid for.

 

I hope that someday Americans take a stand against super cheap crappy products. I think that French fries are a small but significant place to start. Demand to know where your potatoes come from! *

 

Sincerely,
Poor Lucky Me

 

* Unfortunately, some of us have political objections to Idaho potatoes due to Idahos reintroduction of legalized wolf hunts. This puts a damper on our enthusiasm for great french fries since they interfere with our protests. Stay strong, friends of the wolf.

10 Obvious Reasons Why Coke Products Are Better Than Pepsi Products (In No Particular Order):

 

1. Pepsi tastes gross.

 

2. Coke tastes delicious.

 

3. Sierra Mist? Please. That is the most bogus soda name ever invented. I mean Slice isn’t awesome either, but it’s way better than Sierra Mist.

 

4. Diet Pepsi Jazz Caramel Cream. Yes, that’s a real product. Coke had a stumble with Coca-Cola lime, but Jazz? That’s unforgivable.

 

5. Pepsi’s Red White and Blue color scheme is so Rush Limbaugh. Okay okay we get it Pepsi, you love America! Jeez.

 

6. Santa is pro-Coke. Brittany Spears likes Pepsi. Who do you want to align yourself with?

 

7. People drink Coke all over the world, it’s called American Champagne in France. You know what they call Pepsi in France? Crap. I mean I don’t know for sure but I’m assuming that’s correct.

 

8. If you eat an entire pizza by yourself and drink a Diet Coke, you won’t get fat. Everyone knows that.

 

9. Rum and Coke: Good. Rum and Pepsi: horrifying.

 

10. Studies show that no one asks for Pepsi by name, they just settle for it if they can’t get Coke.*

 

* Studies conducted in a non scientific setting at PLM main offices.

Dear Poor Lucky Me,

 

I like the idea of hard boiled eggs, but whenever I cook them and sit down to take a bit I sort of get grossed out. If I’m at a salad bar and they’ve got them already sliced up or, even better, deviled, I’ll dive in and eat dozens. But it’s just not the same at home.

 

Are do-it-yourself hard boiled eggs different in some way? Or am I just stuck in my own head?

 

With Great Respect,
Hungry in Hammond, IN

 

Dear Hungry in Hammond,

 

Unless cooking is a hobby of yours, I think that there are a lot of foods that are great in restaurants but weird at home. Beef Carpaccio is a good example. Even if you buy high quality ingredients and consider yourself a great cook, I probably won’t come over for beef carpaccio. I mean, no offense, but it’s just a little too real for me, you know?

 

However, I think I can solve your hard boiled egg dilemma. You need these special instruments that peels and slices those bitches up like Easter at the country club. Check it out here.

 

The thing is, most problems in our American lives can be solved by something sold on television. You can learn how to apply for grants, give your hair more volume, cook a whole chicken in 20 minutes, get your clothes incredibly clean, learn how to invest in real estate and make smoothies. All from the comfort of your couch. I’m waiting for the infomercial about at home liposuction and do it yourself calf implants. You’ve just got to patient, the T.V. marketers got your back.

 

Sincerely,
Poor Lucky Me

Dear Poor Lucky Me,

 

When people in the city use those huge golf umbrellas to protect themselves from the rain, are they aware of how annoying and dangerous their behavior is?

 

Do they even care that they could poke my eyes out?

 

Best to You,
Cold, Wet and Angry

 

Dear C.W.A.,

 

I think that in urban settings a lot of social niceties are set aside because people are just trying to get from one point to another. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, I guess that depends on what side of the umbrella you’re on. 

 

A golf umbrella does seem excessive, unless the motorcycle twins were walking down the street. And if Bill and Benny were walking down the street in the rain in Chicago with golf umbrellas, I would applaud them.

 

I would say that most people don’t think of their umbrella habits as either annoying or dangerous. They just think they’re maximizing their chances of staying dry. It’s not about you, remember that. It’s like when people smash into you trying to rush to the train, or when tourists stop in the middle of the sidewalk to stare at a map…it’s never about you. In fact, enjoying the city requires a delicate balance of intensity and easy going-ness.

 

Besides, if you do get your eye poked out by some one’s golf umbrella you can probably sue them and not have to work for a while. That’s a huge bonus in my book. In fact, it just started hailing….I think I’ll go for a walk down Michigan Ave and hope for the best. I have TWO eyes after all.

 

Sincerely,
Poor Lucky Me

I took this picture six weeks ago. It has taken this long to process what I saw. But here is what we’re looking at: A passenger in a car, sticking his foot out the window. I’m not sure if he’s airing it out or giving some kind of salute. I don’t even know if the foot is the primary appendage being administered to. There is just something so deviant about sticking your bare foot out of a moving vehicle if you live above the Mason Dixon line.

Dear Poor Lucky Me,

 

I know you an a candy aficionado and live in Chicago. What do you think about the candy tax? Personally, I’m very freaked out.

 

Candy makes up most of my diet and with these tough economic times, I just don’t know where that’ll leave me.

 

With Worry,
Sweet Tooth, Empty Pocket

 

Dear S.T.E.P.,

 

I’m so sorry for your loss, and I share your pain. Part of the tragic new tax is the arbitrary distinction between candy made with flour and candy not made with flour. Butterfingers are candy, but Butterfinger Stix are considered food? Outrage!

 

I can only assume that the flour lobbyists have gotten to Pat Quin, because to to encourage candy companies to add flour to their product to avoid higher taxation should be criminal.

 

And why candy? Why not Flaming Hot Cheetos or Cool Ranch Doritos. Actually, strike that. Don’t tell anyone I even said that. because if they raise the taxes on Cool Ranch Doritos I will freak out. Seriously. I WILL FREAK OUT.

 

Needless to say, I totally understand where you’re coming from. I mean, why is it so expensive to eat, drink, smoke, use gasoline, and park in Chicago? It’s not like we are a land locked island in the South Pacific. I guess the upside is that if we ever move somewhere else, we’ll feel rich as thieves because we’re already used to paying $1.10 for a pack of twizzlers.

 

Sincerely,
Poor Lucky Me

Ten things that you might notice if you’re a recovering Catholic visiting St. Peter’s Basilica, the Vatican Museum, and the Sistine Chapel:

 

1. Going through a metal detector to see a church seems more normal than you expected.

 

2. The Popes clearly had a strong (potentially erotic) interest in ancient pagan sculpture.

 

3. It is possible to be overexposed to gigantic Renaissance tapestries.

 

4. Even people who have dreadlocked mullets like to going sightseeing.

 

5. Such powerful waves of human odors wash over you while waiting to view the Sistine Chapel you have no choice but to assume it is impossible to leave the queue to use the bathroom.

 

6. The only way you could ever get anyone to view a gallery of modern Christian art is to force them to wait in a line that cuts through a room. The Vatican Museum has twelve rooms. Several of the pieces were clearly of the “outsider art” movement.

 

7. People who take pictures in the Sistine Chapel despite the dozens of signs that say “Photographs are forbidden” might not be able to read.

 

8. Looking at relics like St. Carl’s toe bone and St. Nancy’s femur and imagining people praying to them made me wonder if these Catholics went to a different Sunday school than me. Because in my Sunday school they taught us that we weren’t supposed to pray to idols and graven images. Actually I guess they didn’t specify toe bones, so maybe that’s open to interpretation.

 

9. Maybe the church could sell this stuff to a private company and use the proceeds to help poor people. Like Mayor Daily and the parking meters, except, you know, not use the money for kick backs and back alley deals.

 

10. My cynicism switched turns to off when I’m confronted by artistic and architectural masterpieces, but I can’t help but wonder (cynically) if that was the point of it.