Jen

First blog of the day again. . . hmmm

This morning I felt incredibly sick due to the overcrowded, un-airconditioned, blue line train from Pat’s to work this morning. I was ready to, pardon my verbiage, blow chunks, if I didn’t get of the L. As soon as I got to Jackson, I pressed my back against the cool marble (I know, gross. Still, it was the cleanest thing I could fine and it helped me out a lot.) near the elevators and then sat down there for about ten minutes. It was terrible. Strange thing is, I am perfectly fine now. Even in a good mood. Go figure.

Last night, we (my Pat, Pat W., Ken, Kevin and Frank, oh, and of course, Jordan) all met over at Jordan’s house and watched the cubs game and drank beer. It was a good time. There are always strange people meeting at that Pilsen apartment. This guy, Bo, an older African American fella, told me that I was “cuter than a peach”, which I thought was nice, and then as he had more beer, I was “cuter than a mother fucker.” One of my favorite stories went something like this (paraphrased, of course): You are so cute, that if there were a bunch of fellas in an airplane and you told them to jump and they didn’t have parachutes, they’d still jump. Now, I’m not writing this to pat myself on the back or anything, but I’ve never been told long stories about how cute I am. Ok. pat, pat. I’m done patting myself on the back now.

After lunch, um, I mean the mission, I’ll talk about those guys on display at Sears on State Street.

Mission in action today at 12:00. See you there, boys.