Old Single Mom: What I Learned in My First Two Weeks at ChicagoNow

Old Single Mom: What I Learned in My First Two Weeks at ChicagoNow

It’s been almost two weeks since I joined the awesomeness that is ChicagoNow. And I would like to take a few moments to share with you what I have learned about my Everythingness in that short, precious time.

1. ChicagoNow.com is the bomb.

If you are a loved one, and are only on ChicagoNow to support ME (thank you and I love you), I encourage you SO much to look around. The creativity in here is magnificent. I can’t  open this site up without my insides jumping up and down from reading a punchy, “gotta read it” title. There is something for everyone. And I mean everyone.

I can't contain all the awesome in one post. I have ten more up my sleeve.  Do yourself a favor and go take a lookie...

2. I now know of three things that (allegedly) make readers Go Away from Old Single Mom:

I have no proof. I just know that on the days these things happened, people went away. Let’s call them "yellow flags:"

a) pictures of Lady Capris lounging in a Pigeon Forge Hotel.

lady capris

I recently chronicled a visit to Dollywood, and the day I posted this picture was the first time that Facebook Insights let me know that  someone chose to take their leave of me. Coincidence? Maybe.

b) Entire pigs roasting on spits, also from Dollywood.  (There will be no picture)

I posted that picture because that dead, red pig was just such a bizarre spectacle to witness. People lined up to take pictures of that bald pig that looked like it was perpetually rolling down a hill in slow motion. I didn’t even consider that it might be offensive to, say, staunch vegetarians (NOT the kind who enjoy bacon on their green beans every once in a while. You know who you are..) or even animal rights advocates. So: No Dead Pigs. GOT IT.

c. This just in from late in the day, yesterday… calling a pizza with sliced olives  A “Devil’s Anus Pizza.”

Lost one that day. But that might not be enough to stop me from calling a sliced black olive  “The Devil’s Anus.”

3.    I’m really worried about Miley Cyrus, you guys.

She’s a cool, talented girl at heart. She’s Dolly Parton’s goddaughter for gawdssake. She is my friend on Facebook (yes it IS really her!!) and she keeps putting up pictures of herself smoking big, fat Disney Money blunts, and is always surrounded by a  group of very large, HARD CORE hip-hop fellas who are all pressed up against her, telegraphing what looks to this OSM to be inappropriate intentions.  I’m still reeling from Amy Winehouse’s death, Amanda Bynes' latest antics have kept me up for more than one night in the past month, and now the girl who brought us “Party in the USA” AND “The Climb” is in trouble.  Miley: If you are listening, it’s not good for the pendulum to swing so far to the other side! (Here, I'll save you the trouble:)

4.    I feel sorry for Google +.

I see it, there, next to Twitter and Facebook, with its serious little logo, trying to be something it isn't. I think Google+  makes Twitter and Facebook uncomfortable, like when someone invites their "friend from back home" to a barbeque, and they end up being super weird.  I’m about to create a profile just because I feel bad for Google+.  Like when I HAVE to buy something at a lame garage sale to make the organizers feel, I don’t know, less humiliated.

Perhaps it makes me so uncomfortable because it reminds me of that period of my life when I seriously considered trying to make it as a rock star, despite just not being one. I hope you can make that connection in your head, too. Maybe this will help:

turbo skirt

My friend, Shayne, on my right/your left pulled it off much better than I. She pulled things out of her closet for our gigs. (Gig? No. I'm right. Gigs..) I had to go shopping at Ragstock or something else "not-Target" to find something rock-appropriate.  I ruined the whole thing anyway when I couldn't admit that Turbo Skirt was one bad-ass name for a girl band. My bad.

5.    My cat, Kendall, is a big jerk.

Even my almost 5 year old kid knows it. G says, “Ken is our buddy. And Kendall is the big one.”  I know I didn’t just learn this in the last two weeks. But I’ve been looking for a place to vent about it for a few days.  I want to be heard when I say, “My cat is a big jerk.”


"My name is Kendall. I'm a big Jerk."

Thanks for taking the time to read this. I really mean that. #SummerOfNoBullshit

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