Andy and I are in the throes of moving, the most American of pastimes. What is more American than dangerously over-stuffing a minivan and swerving about the highways and byways of this great nation?

Moving allows you to:

• Discover new places to be bigoted about.


• Make one's way in the world only to discover the skyrocketing price of gas means you're going to have to "borrow" from the people still inside the Hardee's at the Oasis (bring a funnel and some Altoids).


• Buy new IKEA furniture.


• Do the necessary research on an apartment after you've signed the lease, just like a Senate Appropriations Committee.


• Live in squalor and swear you won't next year, all the way up to the point that you lazily resign the same lease.

I should add an addendum: moving is the most American of pastimes only if the move is to another part of America, which is exactly where we're going. Boston.

We're going to Boston, where Andy will hit the books, get this website working, and get laid. Oh, and I should rediscover America instantly and feel inspired.

Until we're situated in our dingy new apartment with Internet/manage to steal Wi-Fi, I'll just be on Twitter. Follow @eaglie.

Labels: America, Housecleaning, Travel

It's an environmental disaster! Do something before it gets worse than the Exxon Valdez! It will lead to the destruction of the Gulf Coast people and their homes! Do something, please, before it's worse than Hurricane Katrina! Nothing we can do about it while it makes the shrimping industry extinct? OH GOD, SOMEBODY DO SOMETHING, NOW!!! TOO MUCH!!!

The British Petroleum oil leak in the Gulf of Mexico has been going for weeks now. In that time, we've seen the rare: perfect games in baseball, ALMOST-perfect games in baseball, and the rarest sight of all, a Chicago sports team on the verge of winning a championship.

We've seen politicians backtrack on stupid statements made years ago. We've seen almost-covert military operations by Israel. And we saw someone get named an American Idol by text message. Not exactly rare things these days, but all these things, all the while, oil leaked out of the earth and into our seafood.

Sigh. I will resign on this. There is no hope. That squeeze bottle of cocktail sauce in my fridge... so much will be wasted.

Labels: America, Critters, Economics, News, Religion/Technology, Travel

I have nine hours in Gotham to do everything from tap-dancing on gilded streets to ice-skating on the roof of Rockefeller Center. At least I imagine this will be the case. I can't go many places because the flight lands at 10 pm and leaves for Chicago again at 9 am. It's late for gallivanting in New York, but Andy and I will be fine. We can make it there. No "if."

Labels: America, Travel

Yes, I'm flying. In a plane. Tomorrow. That means I get to be among the first to "wag my tail" for the body scanners at O'Hare International Airport. Well, actually, thousands have already gone through since they opened--it's a busy airport--but I'm the first I know.

Tomorrow, a 3-D image of my body will become property of the U.S. Government. Appendages, crevices, and all. And I hope they take a good look at it because, soon enough, they won't be able to get rid of it for any preexisting conditions.

Labels: America, Chicago, Midwestern Values, Travel

Andy and I decided to stand in the smog an extra five days. But hey, we saw Judd Apatow and Seth Rogen! And Charlie Chaplin, though I suspect he was an impersonator.

I'm working on the trip write-up for you guys, and Andy's got an impressive photo collection to edit into a manageable, readable blob. But for now, I'll repost some highlights of the Twitterlogue:

After carefully considering how early I had to get up for a 6:30am flight, is it too late to cancel & fly to LA on my own wings? 2:09 AM Jun 13th from txt

So, far, my guidebook of Grapes of Wrath has lied. I can't pick oranges, grapes or even wine straight from the trees in #California. 4:58 PM Jun 13th from txt

Nesting hummingbirds have the speed & dexterity of 10 soccer moms. 3:21 PM Jun 15th from txt

Okay, so #LA has not been burnt. Just looted.10:50 AM Jun 15th from txt

The Surplus Store: Earthquake & Survival Supplies: seems to me "surplus" is a misnomer in earthquake-ridden, Laker-fan-infested #LA8:51 PM Jun 15th from txt

Biggest impressions at Manns? Probably Sam Jackson's hands, Jimmy Stewart's feet, or Jimmy Durante's nose. 12:32 PM Jun 16th from txt

Twitter is a sorry means for describing art but I'll try: based on one painting, the stigmata of St Catherine was caused by PEWPEWPEW beams. 1:52 PM Jun 18th from txt

I had my first sighting ever of the rare baja fish taco, which lives in festive environments, full of stucco. 7:47 PM Jun 18th from txt

And, yes, I realize that I'm taunting my readers at home, talking about mostly dry weather & Pacific sunsets painting skies. Ooo, rainbow! 1:01 PM Jun 20th from txt

I'm on a sugar-white beach grasped by the crawl of the tide and flame of the sun--man, I love this poetic landscape stuff so hard.5:09 PM Jun 20th from txt

At the end of #Route66. I think we cheated by taking United though. 2:27 PM Jun 21st from txt

#Vegas is BOILING HOT! WHY DID I LEAVE MY TERMINAL?!?! 3:30 PM Jun 22nd from txt

Now, the 4-hour voyage home. And some time(zone) traveling. See you guys in the future! 5:24 PM Jun 22nd from txt

Labels: Travel

Ah, bright lights, cameras, and action: Andy and I are making a trip out to LA for a few days. My whirlwind tour to a beautiful city of contrasts, a land of desire, you know, all those travel cliches.

I'll have the mobile Twittering turned on, of course, and I'll be taking plenty of pictures. I won't be Internet-less, though I probably won't be checking much email anyway. I'd rather be picking the grapes right off the vines and watch my step, lest I fall into very large crack (though that would be San Andreas' Fault, amirite?!).

I'll put my talons in the Walk of Fame, steal George Clooney's smug-ass star, and then buy expensive popcorn at Mann's.

Gotta get out to the ocean too, check out those chicks at the beach. And make some more stupid puns and Steinbeck jokes. All the tourist-y things!

I might die this vacation, being unlucky enough to be in LA when the Lakers win the NBA Finals. (When, not if... sorry to entire-world-that-thinks-Kobe-needs-to-curl-up-and-die-of-cigarette-burns.) But don't worry: I'll keep you guys updated from the grave.

Labels: Travel

Keep up on the conversation and Twitter-spam Friend of the Blog Chicago Burdman a bit while he travels to Appalachia!

Doesn't a trip to Appalachia sound familiar to anyone?

(I still need to find a new host for that damn Kentucky journal, don't I?)

Labels: Travel

He's flying the coop... heading west like Fievel, they say (more like how I say). Friend of the Blog and Andy, Chris Edwards, is going to be a star. At least that's what he says. And Andy. And, begum, I believe it when those two finally agree on something.

Just kidding, you two. Californie-way's a good fit for a man like Chris. Even a whole family of Chrises (not that I'm implying anything about his personal life). Andy promises me we'll go that way someday, too. He promises it'll be a better life, but I'd go only t'sitesee and spit on a few stars (not just the ones in the sidewalk, I mean).

Californie-way calls to the best a' us in ev'ry gen'ration. An' there ain't many better. Congrats an' enjoy it, Chris. Maybe me and Andy'll join ya. For a better life, down tha' dusty road an' away from tha'dusty bowl.

(Pack 'er up an' move fer Manifest Dest'ny, righ', Andy? An' don' worry: there ain't no spacific accent I were intendin'... Southern? Steinbeckian? West Side?)

("Spacific" pun intended.)

Labels: Language, Midwestern Values, Travel, Tribute

Two friends of the Blog are off to see the Wizard to go to Yale (same difference). Neither has ever been to Yale or New Haven, Conn, but I have! In fact, me and Andy went four years ago, January 2004, for a Model UN Conference: Andy represented Germany on disarmament, I represented Germany on KICKING ASS.

So I got to hang in New Haven for four days, three nights, and a few drunken stupors. Most of what I remember was that United Kingdom was REALLY hot. Andy was a little starstruck, too. He totally pulled a cartoon wolf-whistle and heart thumping, both in the least subtle fashion. But I figure I have some advice for the two of them as they skip on their merry way, down the Chowder-Brick Road, especially after I looked it up on Wikipedia for ten minutes.

I saw this sign! Hmm, what else?

There was a very nice breakfast/lunch place with an indistinguishable exterior (probably on College or Church Street). I had good eggs there and eventually clam chowder (how couldn't I, really?).

Louis' Lunch is important to remember. A hamburger stand A-listed by the Library of Congress? How could that be? Maybe because it invented the hamburger?

Maybe. I think that's really debated. The American government says yes, a whole lot of restaurants say no, Louis' Lunch says yes. (We all know who stole the first hamburger though... The Hamburglar, Sr.) As it is, it's a pretty plain burger with very good meat: yes, me and Andy tried it. It's white bread, meat, and maybe a garnish if you're feeling adventurous. But it's a piece of history... didn't you like history in school?

Then there's Yale. Beautiful lecture halls that are beyond huge, a massive quad to put any school west of there to shame... you guessed it: I don't remember a thing about the place. There is not, in fact, anything to do there, as far as I can recall. Except a lot of walking.

Though there was this great parking garage...

Labels: Travel

For some reason, it's rural Ohio, and it's not to get laid.

What am I doing with my life?

Labels: Travel

I just saw an address in Evanston, Ill.: "816 1/2 Church St."

Labels: Travel

And Mark Twain is right: "It has been said that a Scotchman has not seen the world until he has seen Edinburgh; and I think that I may say that an American has not seen the United States until he as seen Mardi-Gras in New Orleans."

It was a great trip, which I think makes up for me not live-blogging the Super Bowl, but that game was one of the best I've ever seen (I watched the second half in a few bars).

My thoughts on why it was so great? Because New England got embarrassed, thereby saving us decades of smugness. Also, it averted an Apocalypse: no region/city should ever win two championships in one year (Red Sox, Patriots) and if they had won three (the Celtics), someone might have had to murdah them.

One last thought before I get to writing the important things: the reading of the Declaration of Independence by NFL coaches, players, and retired veterans... was this smarmy or just plain cheesy? I can't decide which.

Labels: Travel

Hurricane Ditka is headed today to New Orleans! We'll see how that Superdome holds up! I'll be there in 12 hours, barring weather, delays, and a nasty habit of O'Hare's: hating people smaller than it.

Also, I'll be journaling the whole time, though sadly not here (no Internets). Expect something nice when I get back. However, Super Tuesday will probably receive precedence. Don't worry: that'll make the New Orleans travelogue that much sweeter, wetter, wilder, and windier.

Also, that was my second hurricane joke, and I haven't even made it to the plane yet.

What do you call a pair of jeans holding back Lake Pontchartrain?

Levees-Strauss. Or maybe just Bob.

Labels: Travel

I'm back from Florida! So is Andy (so inconspicuous that we come back the same time ALWAYS, AMIRIGHT?!?!)!

Due to outside obligations, I probably won't be doing much posting until next week! In the meantime, enjoy the below post! And a new video I've been getting sent to me a LOT:

Labels: Travel

Me and Andy are gone for the week to Florida. Hopefully, there'll be less Indiana/British pollution there.

Labels: Travel

Schlapped at German Fest: Milwaukee German Fest 2007
By Andy Dost

I went to Milwaukee's ever-famous German Fest last weekend, so right now, I'm going to get this out of the way and make sure not to make any more of these along the way:

What did the Jew say to the gypsy?
"You can have the shower next."

I swear: no more or else.

Getting to Milwaukee is easy, and it's not a terribly difficult city to navigate. Parking a ways from the fairground with the intention of taking a free trolley, we got some nice glimpses of the library area and the arena where the Bucks play.

But that's where the niceties ended. Buses were frequent, but buses emblazoned with "GERMAN FEST" were not. We waited 15 minutes. And another 15. We walked to another alleged stop. We walked to the next. We walked back one.

Milwaukee, it would not be wise to cross this satirist.

Finally, a trolley came. Only it wasn't free as advertised. It was $1.50. I was getting CTA vibes, the nasty ones where I imagine myself derailing a train into all the guys in orange stopping my train for 20 minutes to fix the signals.

Needless to say, we told the driver to leave us to our Milwaukee misery. The next trolley followed it 15 minutes later. This guy was happy to put my dad on free, and he told us all the trolleys were free.

So, what is it, Milwaukee? $1.50 or free? Or do drivers make their own choices, kind of leaving them flexible in their swindling?

We finally walked the whole way (don't ask, I still don't know), which took us by plenty more buildings, including breweries and one that looked somewhat like half a sailboat (this was the art museum, unsurprisingly). The boat/art museum told us we were near the gates!

Getting in quick-like, we battled through a Rhinelanders/Oompah Band parade: the Dachshund Races awaited! Those were what everyone was waiting for, weren't they? The stadium for this was packed. It was difficult to see the racers over people's heads (even at my height), and it was made more difficult by the average height of a dachshund.

"If you are behind the finish line, please, for your safety, move to the left," said the announcer.

"For 'your safety'? What? From the dogs?" A burst of laughter came from the woman behind me and I knew I had an audience.

Wading through the stunted adorableness to a seat, my dad made note of one racer wearing a professional-looking harness. "There’s a ringer?!" I had this woman howling, really.

The first race, involving five dogs, ended with one crossing the finish line and the other not crossing the starting line. Later, the race officials learned having the dogs play "fetch" with a rubber ball was more effective than telling them to go.

Riding the Sky Rider/Alpine Ski-Lift/James Bond Simulator, my mom and I were caught in a delicious smelling smoke cloud. Below us were roasting chickens and suckling pigs! All whole! Snouts and all!

We immediately began our search after getting down. We didn't know where they were selling them, until my dad finally realized that the word Spanferkel was close by, which means something like "young pig."

Of course, you cannot get away from a German fest without beer, beer, beer:

MOM: (pointing to the Jagermeister tent on the map) "Well, there's beer here."
ME: "What? Jagermeister?"
MOM: "Yeah, says there's beer here on the map."
MOM: "Mom, that is NOT beer."

Perhaps my parents are a little foggy on their hard liquors since their college days. Everyone kills those brain cells before they graduate.

Though it did turn out that tent sold beer! Just not Jagermeister-brand beer thankfully.

The best part of festivals like this is they bring out the best ethnic joke T-shirts in the world ("I HEART MY WEINER" with dachshund silhouette accompaniment and several Hogan's Heroes tribute shirts). While one of my favorites happened to apply to me ("WARNING: Irish Temper, German Stubbornness"), the best I found was "Schlapped at Oktoberfest!" with a picture of a man dancing close to a Frauleine. Good topic, and I can happily say I did not see any showerhea--

Labels: Longer Stuff, Travel

Eaglie is back, from Washington. Yes, I went to DC with my family, and I woke up Thursday morning to find out London was hit by terrorist bombs.

I know my great grandfather (Irish Catholic) would hate me for saying this, but the British are a good people. Always cheerful (or respectful), and never sullen.

My mom told me a story that when she visited the British Isles years ago, she couldn't find a place to stay in London. She walked the streets in the typical London weather (bad), looking glum. But a voice shouted to her, "Cheer up, miss, it'll get better!" And it was a man sitting in the street on crutches, a man who'd lost his leg during a Luftwaffe blitz on London.

This could not have happened to a less-deserving people.

Labels: Travel