Archive for January, 2009


People have gotten friendme lately — and I think it’s fun. I get at least one friend request a day, and it’s amazing the people that find me.

Now I can hardly stand normal e-mail. It’s so much easier to just go to one place and be able to read all the random crap about what people are up to, then send them a note.

I’m still at the office proofing ads tonight, so after dining on Thai with the team, I checked Facebook to find some addresses for the wedding. And lo and behold, I found myself tagged! And this one I was actually happy to find — some aren’t very flattering.

This was from June, when Mr. Farmer took me to meet his high school friends at the Willie Nelson concert at Ravinia. It’s amazing I don’t look like death warmed over, as I felt like total crap. I had a massive cold, and I sat there and froze to death while everyone else lounged in shorts.


He is sooooooooo dreamy!


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Living Under A Rock

Tuesday was a big day for Chicago, with the whole Inauguration thing. Did I go to any parties? Sort of. Our sister PR firm had a chili lunch, and I stopped by. Basically it was a hen party of about 6 chatty marketing types.

It was clear I wasn’t in the know AT ALL about the Chicago society scene. The other ladies were talking all about Mellody Hobson — president of Ariel Capital — and how they LOVE, LOVE, LOVE her. Ariel happens to be a few floors below me, and they are fancy pants. Obama goes there for meetings. And she’s fancy pants, too.

It just so happens that Mellody is dating George Lucas. And word on the street is that he sends his jet for her every weekend.

So, I looked her up online tonight, and it appears that I’ve been riding the elevator with her.

As a complete aside, that morning I was getting my usual egg/cheese whole wheat bagel at Au Bon Pain, and the guy in front of me said to the boisterous cashier, “Big day today.” She said, “Yeah, big day. I guess so. Yeah. It’s my sister’s birthday. It’s a big day, like every day.”

At least some people are living under bigger rocks than I am.

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What’s been up, you ask?

Wearing all the clothes in my closet at once to stay warm, for one. Tonight is supposed to hit -14. I’ve been sleeping in sweats, slippers AND my bathrobe.

Second, I bought myself a personal trainer. Her name is Laura, and my first session is at 6:30 tomorrow morning. Hopefully she can kick my lazy butt into shape before my first dress fitting on February 18. (Yes, I bought a dress — top secret!)

Third, I saw Revolutionary Road tonight, and it was a snoozer. My legs kept falling asleep. It was like watching a play that had been nicely filmed. We should’ve opted for The Wrestler, but we were too hungry to skip dinner and make the early movie time.

Fourth, three agents called yesterday to book showings of my condo! Hooray! That makes 9 total. Now if the offers would just flow in that fast. But in the meantime, I’m enjoying having a consistently spotless house, though the people who saw my place today saw that I’d left my hairbrush on the toilet.

Fifth, Mr. Farmer and I put in his kitchen floor on Sunday. It took 10 hours and resulted in sore legs. He laughed at me when he gave me a pair of kneepads and I proceeded to put them on upside down. He also laughed at me when I put on his cowboy boots with tucked-in sweatpants and ran around the house. (Obviously he caught me without even trying.)

Sixth, I read Malcolm Gladwell’s new book Outliers over Christmas. Go get it! It’s a quick, engaging read that will reassure you that you’re not as successful as Bill Gates simply because you weren’t born in 1955. And that you should never fly a Colombian airline unless you’re trying to kill yourself.

Seventh, I’m FINALLY getting the save-the-dates out next week. Sheesh. Took long enough — I designed them the day after we got engaged.

Eighth, we saw the band for the wedding on New Year’s Eve in a dive bar in small town Kansas. The band was fun, and the clientele was fun-ny. All 30 of them were toothless smokers with Aquanet hair.

Ninth, I’m scared of vampires. Which is why I’m having a hard time bringing myself to read Twilight. So I’m lolligagging along in James Lipton’s Inside Inside until I make a decision. (It’s a good book — just a little slow. He’s the guy that hosts Inside the Actors Studio.)

Tenth, my Tivo is fat and happy, and that’s probably why I am, too.

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