ScentSational

There's a phenomenon that must be addressed. It occurs every summer in Chicago without fail. It is the arrival of intense aromas, or "smell pockets," as my friend Lyndsay likes to call them. I realize that has a negative connotation; let me qualify.

Sometimes I get lucky! If the wind is blowing in the right direction, whiffs of chocolate from the Blommer Chocolate Company in the West Loop permeate downtown. Yum! On the street where I live are some really beautiful gardens. Yes, you "My Fair Lady" fans, there are lilac trees in that heart of town, and in addition I'm greeted by the smell of freshly cut grass and gardenia whenever I step out my front door; and I'll always welcome a sniff of Starbucks, greasy food at The Taste or a freshly showered dude - not really a city smell, but one I enjoy nonetheless.

Now, for the other side of the coin: let's be honest, most of the time, I'm not so lucky. Especially in the summer: The city heats up, and LOOK OUT! Every other step on major streets I'm hit by a wall of cigarette smoke, overflowing garbage, bum and Cubs fan piss, and every so often, something undefinable. I don't know what it is, but I don't have the urge to investigate. I find myself holding my breath, but I'm grossed out the whole time because that intake of breath was of something horrific. I'm holding a disgusting stench in my lungs, but the alternative is to keep breathing and smell it many times. It's like I'm eating it. I just gagged a little bit thinking about it.

On another topic, I was watching a show on VH1 titled "Celebrity Bad Habits." It's pictures of celebrities committing social gaffes like making funny faces while eating, over-the-top PDAs, and broadcasting their junk to the nation. I am so screwed. I know I'm gonna end up on one of these shows when I'm famous. I'm so unprepared for lurking paparazzi! I have to admit, it's cringe-inducing entertainment. I love it. However, those pundits have got to go. Their snide quips are no good. I would knock that shiznit out of the park. VH1! Hire me to be a jerk! I do it anyways, you may as well pay me for it!

On yet another topic, apparently the many summertime festivals in Chicago include The Chicago Short Comedy Video and Film Festival. My good buddy Adrian and Popcorn Island Productions submitted the short "Mercy Date" to the festival and it was accepted. Remember my post earlier this year? Go back and check it out, lazy bones. It's the one with all the stills. If you don't believe me, go to:

www.witsendshorts.com/festival.html

And... I guess we placed 2nd out of 41 films. Not too shabby. I have no idea what it means, but I like it. If you want to see it, go to:

improvidate.com/improvidate/multiMedia/multiMedia.html

I've never actually seen it, because I can't bear to watch myself, but I've heard some good feedback. I dunno. It was fun to make.

The Cold Shoulder

Most folks who know me are aware of a pretty significant scar I have on my right shoulder. People don't generally know how to react when they see it. I like to think that they're fascinated by the one part of me that isn't gorgeous, but let's not get delusional.

A complete stranger actually said this to me last Friday:

"Did you get shot or something?"

Wow. So, of course I said yes.*

- I shall now refer to the stranger as "Doo-doo Head." "DDH" for short -
DDH totally believed me. He asked for more details, and I dramatically whispered I couldn't talk about it. DDH then said, "well, we're glad you're alive," to which I replied "so are my parents."

What a DDH.

I'm sure it was his clever way of making conversation, but guess what? The truth is, I really don't want to talk about it. Scars don't generally come from happy, painless experiences, and sorry Mr. Standing Behind Me in an Elevator, it's none of your business. Let's talk about why your girlfriend dumped you instead. See?

I think my second favorite is when they touch it while saying, "what's that?" Especially when we've just met. It doesn't feel good. It hurts. It's invasive. It's like me putting my finger up your butt, and not all gentle-like. It's not appropriate. If you get the urge, punch yourself in the throat.

I guess I'm just amazed that someone could be so insensitive. I guess we can't all be gracious! Poor slobs.

*I wasn't shot. I'm not that cool.