Bad Advice

Yuck.

I went in for a new set of x-rays today (those aren't mine). I got so freaked out beforehand that I sprouted a lovely new cold sore. I tried to photograph that for you, but you really can't get the full impact unless you see it in person.

On February 9th I go back and see my periodontist who will solemnly tell me how completely fucked my mouth is. He's told me before. Why is it that dental professionals always try to make you feel like shit about your condition? My gyno has never given me a complex about my lady parts. She's never questioned my pubic grooming or remarked on how long it had been since the last time I saw her. My GP suggests I eat better (which I am), but she doesn't make me feel like a piece of crap because I could lose a few pounds. Yet dentists and their ilk always give everyone (and I know this isn't just me) the stink eye. And I actually floss. I take better care of my teeth than most people, yet every time I see a new dentist I need to go through the drill and tell them that no, I'm not a junkie. Yes, I do actually brush my teeth and no, I've never had a methamphetamine habit. One look at my fat ass should show them that, but I always need to clarify.

I've had dentists make me get tested for HIV, ask if I was an alcoholic, quiz me on how many cigarettes I smoke a day (none!) and wonder aloud why I put off a crown or whatever. Um, because every time I see one of you people it costs a minimum of $500. Usually a whole lot more.

So right now I've got $3000 earmarked for my periodontist. This is but a drop in a very huge bucket and nowhere near enough. I need to make a lot more money this year and a little luck would help too. Here's hoping the Year of the Ox is kind to me and my mouth. And to you as well. Happy new year!

Dear Ilene Chaiken,

I don't even really know what to say to you. Shane and Jenny?!? The Big Guy was in the kitchen doing dishes when I just started howling at the top of my lungs. He ran in to see what tragedy had befallen me and walked in to me ranting and shrieking "nooooo!!!!" at the TV.

See, Shane is the L Word cast member that all the straight girls love. She's boyish enough that she doesn't make them ask uncomfortable questions about their sexuality, but girlish enough to allow them to feel slightly naughty for thinking about another woman in "that" way. I am excluding myself from this, not because I am not a boring straight girl, but because I lost my yen for Shane a few seasons ago, when she ditched that cute Carmen at the altar.

Jenny is the girl that we're all embarrassed to have been at one point in our lives. Usually when we were about 16 and spent our nights sobbing our way through overwrought journal entries and experimenting with eating disorders and self harm. She is a reminder of how much we once sucked and therefore she is impossible for us to watch without cringing.

Putting the two characters together is like directing a fire extinguisher to the viewing population's collective lady part. That Shane would fall for someone as annoying and adolescently psychotic as Jenny instantly negated Shane's hotness. Jenny just got ten times more annoying, which I didn't even realize was possible. As the kids say—FAIL. EPIC FAIL.

Now, onto the other important matter—

Chicago—it's a wrap

I stayed a day later than the Large Greek and so checked myself into a much nicer hotel because it had an amazing pool. (Hotels in Chicago are dirt cheap in January—go figure.) This is the view from my room. If you can't read that little sticker, it says, "Due to a higher than normal insect population, we recommend keeping the windows closed."

They must have some polar-bear type insects in Chicago, because it was about -10 degrees the last day of my trip. Even penguins would've been looking for their cashmere socks. I had this whole big plan for my last night in Chicago—first I'd go for a swim in the glam hotel pool, then I was going to take myself out for Spanish food, and/or maybe see a play at the Steppenwolf. I wasn't going to let the weather keep me inside. No sirree. . .

On High Goose Alert

Flying the day after a major plane accident is always nerve-wracking. Then finding out that Newark airport is not letting anyone fly in is even scarier. I had the bad luck to be seated near a wing and kept frantically scanning the skies for wayward flocks of Canadian geese. I am pleased to report I saw none and we landed late, but without incident.

Chicago, Day One

I know Chicago is called the Windy City for a reason, but this week it's so frigid that it's the top story on the news and loads of stores are even closed down due to the deep freeze.

But it's going to take more than a blizzard and sub-zero wind-chill factor to keep this fun-haver cooped up in her hotel room. Yesterday I took a stroll down the Magnificent Mile (aka the big street full of spendy mall stores), where I bought some iPhone accessories and, more importantly, a scarf and hat. How I managed to leave home with zero in the way of wooly accoutrement is beyond me.

Today I took the subway out to Wicker Park and met my friend Rachel for lunch and a stroll. I wore two pairs of pants and so was not particularly bothered by the frigid air or swirls of snow. We had a delicious lunch at a place called Bongo something or other and then went to a store where the clerk informed me that I was very nice, "for a New Yorker." Sigh. We also checked out the uber-cool Quimby's Books where I picked up a copy of Michael Krugman's Andre the Giant book. Michael's a great writer and I can't wait to crack it open.

OH, and on my pal Rose's recommendation, we had steaks at Gene and Georgetti. The place was packed with red-faced big guys almost all wearing blue oxford shirts. In our particular dining room, I was the only woman! No wonder as this place is a one-way ticket to FatAssVille. I believe I consumed a month's worth of points in that meal alone. But so deliciously worth it. Even the Large Greek was left completely sated by his meal and that never happens. We waddled back to our room and passed out into food comas. Burp.

Good things about my neighborhood

I know I complain a lot about Williamsburg. Rightfully so, but I was recently reminded about all the good. Here are some of my favorite things in no particular order:
• Daisy Day Spa I got a facial here this afternoon and I still feel like I'm on the drugs. It was the best facial I've ever gotten—Aneta massaged my face, did a few painless extractions, and then massaged my shoulders, neck, arms and hands. She closed with a moisturizing seaweed mask and my skin is still dewy and glowing. I feel so good that I can't even think of anything to complain about!
• Milennium Market (pictured) Yes, it's overpriced, but it's also clean, huge, open 24/7, and one block from my apartment. I wish it were Whole Foods or Trader Joe's, but for now, this will do.
• Sweetwater I remember when Sweetwater the bar first opened. Everyone I knew was excited about "the new bar." I went there far more than was good for me for a while, but  eventually I got sick of having to hover-pee and decided I was too old to frequent a bar that required mouth-breathing in order to avoid being sickened by the stench. But a few years ago Pablo, his beautiful wife, Nina, and another partner turned it into a very sweet restaurant serving some of the best food in the nabe. The wait staff is always lovely and I've never had a bad meal here. And it smells good too.
• Flesh and Bone pilates studio If you're going to eat at Sweetwater, you're going to need to work it off. Clare and Sunisa are my fave teachers here (Clare's also the owner) and since I started going there regularly, I've gone down a pants size. Yes, there is also the Watchers of Weight to credit for that, but pilates definitely shrunk my butt.

Advice, please!

I am off to Chicago next week. I was only there once, years ago, and that was for a day on a cross-country drive with my buddy Kurt B. Reighley. I know very little about the town, except the eating is apparently amazing (though since I am a Watcher of Weight this is kind of a down-side) and that it's extremely cold. If anyone has any great ideas for what I should do when I'm there, please let me know in the comments. Thanks! Oh, and my Seattle column on cheaters got a lot of feedback—check it out.