talk about a shitstorm brewing

the trib reported today that dave matthews' bus is under fire again. not only are they handling suit from the city of the chi, but now the tour boat company is joining in the fun. if you missed the drama from this summer, it's alleged that mr. matthews' longtime driver dumped about 80 lbs. of human waste from their tour bus as it was crossing over the kinzie street bridge downtown, right onto the heads of unknowing passengers in a tour boat below. now, i have a finicky repulsion to even sharing a common wall in a public bathroom with someone unseen on the other side, but i cannot imagine the barf-o-rama that must have ensued after this poop swabbed the deck. i wouldn't think that the chicago river was too pleased to be lapping up the excrement from that schlocky band either.

read on for the firsthand skinny.


--------------------'People sat in stunned anger' --------------------

August 10, 2004, 1:07 PM CDT

Tribune staff reporter Brett McNeil, who filed Monday's report on the foul liquid that drenched passengers on a Chicago tour boat, was one of those passengers. Here's his first-person account.

Mostly what I remember is people gagging.Before that, I remember our lightly lisping docent say what a beautiful day it was to catch the city's river bend reflection on the green glass of 333 W.Wacker Drive. And, really, it was: just this cool and sunny day with billowy white-gray clouds floating in a deep blue sky.We were puttering along the Chicago River, watching paddlers from the FlatwaterClassic float by, craning to see the tops of sundry architectural marvels. A perfectly polite, boringly edifying way to spend the afternoon. And then came a gush of goop raining across most of the upper-deck viewing platform. From where I was seated, toward the front of the boat, I couldn't see what was dumping on us but figured it was a street cleaner or maybe one of those landscaping trucks that you see spraying arcs of water into the median weed beds along Ashland Avenue. Somehow I got just the lightest little splash on my left shirt sleeve, while people two seats away were left squeezing gritty gunk from their sticky wet hair. We passed under the bridge and the deluge seemed to pick up, getting stronger as the passengers toward the rear of the boat approached the waterfall. The stuff splat heavily on the deck, dousing dozens of white-haired ladies and gents in nylon windbreakers. There was confusion.Then the smell hit us. An unmistakable stink: porta-potty juice. "Oh, God." The woman next to me turned and said to no one, "I had my mouth open."Another woman, whose white shirt was soaked in what looked like dirty wiper fluid, said nothing. She just stood up and surveyed the boat, her eyes registering what she was now wearing. Reflexively, she began heaving. She looked like she was drowning.The docent was slow to understand the magnitude of what had happened. "It appears that some water has hit the boat," he said, ridiculously. A guy from the back of the boat shouted: "That's not water, buddy! That's urine!"The docent, still playing dullard, asked, "Should we go back?"By then, though, the boat's crew was rushing in with wet naps and paper towels, and soon we were turning around and plowing back to dock in high gear. Damning the no wake zone, we sent recreational boaters splashing in our wake as Chicago's Little Lady churned for home. People wiped off their glasses, took off their coats, and sat in stunned anger.What could you do? I was on the boat with my girlfriend and a friend of hers visiting from out of town. They, too, managed to avoid the worst of it and we hustled down into the boat's main cabin. There we could avoid the stench up top but could clearly hear people puking in the nearby bathrooms.We sat downstairs, hugging the air-conditioner register for stench-free air, until back at the Michigan Avenue dock. I did not begin reporting about all this until after we'd gone to the Billy Goat Tavern and washed up in the bathrooms, which was a mistake. Because I wanted to get my hands and face and hair clean, I didn't get the name of the guy who was standing on the sidewalk when I got off the boat wearing only his waterlogged khakis. Stripped to the waist, he was actually joking with a woman airing out her wet red dress. "I feel like I'm in a bad Ben Stiller movie," he said.

Copyright (c) 2005, Chicago Tribune

they call me...el diablo loco

feeling a bit loco myself after this madcap journey to minneapolis. i can count the number of times i've been able to sleep on an airplane on one hand, and the return trip to chicago was one of them. of course, i'd gone to bed at 6 a.m. and gotten up two hours later to head to the airport, so i was in dire need of rest. didn't even feel us take off, that's how out of it i was, and when we landed, my only indication that i was to wake up was my torso lunging forward in the seat when we bounced onto the runway. YangBoss and i were shuffling through o'hare like a pair of zombies and hit the end of the c concourse without even realizing we'd passed the baggage claim a good 10 gates prior. we literally stood there looking around blankly at the gates in front of us prohibiting any further walking before we could make ourselves turn around to find how we'd gotten off track. we continued in our sorry state down to the carousels and stood for about 15 minutes staring in vain at baggage coming out from another flight before spying one of our banner cannisters sitting off to the side. more zombie stares ensued until YangBoss said, "Agent99, look over there." and lo and behold, here comes our two suitcases on a totally different carousel, the only bags remaining from our flight since we took so long to to drag ass down there. we was some seriously sleepy peeps.

the convention was successful for us. our showcasing artist grabbed 40+ forms and i got my hooks into a few schools i'd never booked with before, which is always a good thing. the new booth made its debut to oohs and ahhs, so that 10 grand seems to be well spent. it was a hell of a lot easier to deal with in the airport than its predessor, for sure. a few highlights of the week:

* random handshake with jesse ventura as he left the podium after his address to the convention attendees. upon seeing him cross paths with mr. belding, YangBoss proclaimed, "now that's a good 'chocolate in my peanut butter' moment."

* getting my first taste of absinthe in the company of a magician, juggler, contortionist, a dope dealer lecturer and their ladies. according to the regular drinkers there, the evening's mixologist wasn't giving the potion its full power, so i wasn't lucky enough to have any fun hallucinations. hated the licoricey taste anyway, so i don't think i could have stomached enough to get me drunk anyway. back in the day, i would have sucked that stuff down with a quickness, but not so much now. they were delightful company, though, so it was kind of them to share.

* being accosted by "el diablo loco" and his crackheaded cousin in the skyway. a kiss on my hand gave way to a hasty trip to the bathroom to disinfect.

* made some new pals from the PurplePlanet's comedy improv team. there's nothing like being selected the winner of a smokeout for two, especially with such a hilarious guy. after indulging, i traipsed back into this bizarro party for geeky advisors and witnessed some kind of kumbaya singalong in the dark. escorted in with the command to, "go on! just join in!", i feared we were inadvertantly joining a cult meeting, but saw that it was nothing more than some overbearing woman forcing her bad singing on the group. when "you are my sunshine" was deemed the appropriate encore, i knew it was time for me to jet. i guess this is somewhat similar the type of stuff we did during "hair" parties (and that's a stretch, really), but these folks are here on a professional basis which therefore makes kumbaya time a little much in my book.

readying myself to continue on the meet 'n greet path with a visit to this greek life conference. worry not, i'm not getting back into that life, this is strictly for biz purposes. indeed, i dusted off the gamma phi and order of omega badges to look the part today. thankfully this will only entail a couple hours' worth of schmooze before i can hightail it into rush hour traffic. certain to have some moments of previous life recognition as i chat with these people. i don't regret ever joining the house back in cape girawho, but the Agent99 that stands before you today is so very different and it's just funny to come face to face with reminders of my past. back in 1995, i was a flannel-shirted wonder with about 40 extra lbs clinging to my frame and no clue about the streak of independent thinking that was going to take over six years later. now, 10 years after my days as a sorority pledge, i'm in a completely new place in my life, free of many emotional shackles and making my way in the world, slowly but surely.

catcall of the day

i was starving this afternoon and decided to slip across the street to the funkin' don'tgotherenuts to grab a bagel. i'm trotting along and suddenly hear, "oh, you are SEXY! SEXY!" shrieked my way from an suv passing by. i never caught sight of this guy, but he proceeded to stick his paw up through his sunroof and wave at me for the rest of his journey down devon avenue. it caught me off guard and made me laugh, but at the same time, i have to wonder why men do this? honestly, what's the point? unless you're gonna brake that ride and try to chat me up, i just don't get it. i'm recalling that funny brotha in the woody wagon who rolled up next to me as i was entering my old tower grove crib in da lou and inquired about whether i had a man because "you sho' look good to me!" perhaps the lesson here is that i sho' look good when i'm creepin' the streets. he could have at least offered to buy me that bagel. put yo coin whur ya yap is, yo!

every blog has its day

so, after i switched my blog away from the wandering dalliances to good old agent99, i found that the dalliances were still accessible on the net, but i couldn't make any adjustments to it. a nice little tech lamb at blogger kindly removed the page for me, but said that it may show up on search engines for awhile longer. curiousity peaked, especially since i've shared neither of these blogs with anyone of my own accord, i did a google search and found this hit:

http://www.patentist.info/patent-invention/13093.html

it's some kind of patent attorneys site and i still haven't figured out what relationship these random blog entries form with the site content, but there i was, linked and all, specifically to my diatribe about what has thus far, become my last day serving at the TouristChophouse. have no idea why they'd be interested, but it amused me to no end that some patent lawyers were privy to my ranting.

mc wiff his snaggles

upon leaving my first coaching session with VoxyLady this morning, i strolled past a delightful old man who looked at me and said, "well, hello pretty girl!" i smiled and returned the greeting and he finished with, "yes, you sure are a pretty girl!" then i noticed he seemed to be missing some of the major frontal snags that many of us take for granted, but it diminished his grin not a bit. that's an attitude we could all benefit from.

i still have yet to spy a missed connection on craigslist for me from the funny messenger boy who literally fell from bike to ground while watching me wait to cross the street by millenium park. it was really a cute incident, because i caught him staring, then moved a bit to let his wheels through the sidewalk and somehow the turn of his handlebars pulled him in a slow motion slide from seat to street. i could tell he was really embarassed, especially as i cooed, "oh, you! let me get your bike!" while he flailed around in the spokes. this happened a few weeks ago on one of those monsterously cold days, so we both resembled midwestern sheiks with our bundled mugs. all he knows of me is a friendly voice behind a white scarf inside a blue suede coat. that's more than some, and yet, sometimes just enough.

the instapaint for the love den arrived today, which means Mole and i have to take on this project on our own without the assistance of MeMaw. there's a dvd to show us exactly how to do it, and without the need for dropcloths or masking off the floorboards, perhaps we can pull off this "painting". think i have three weeks, according to my agreement with the focus group company, to complete this task and report my results. must consult MeMaw again about the best way to curtain the bed. i simply do not trust my instincts as far as any of this is concerned, but at least this little endeavor is not only free, but will give me an extra 50 bones when it's done.

i have a yoga mat dying to be released from its dragon pouch. time to charge into rush hour traffic!

safe in my garden

i love me some zach braff and he makes my indie blood pump. as usual, i am way behind the times as far as movies go, so i just saw "garden state" a few weeks ago, and oh, baby! it's been awhile since i've seen anything that i could truly relate to, and his character's sense of numbness was right on. who knew the "scrubs" could prepare him for this? i'm salivating just thinking about what his next projects may entail. and i found a nifty blog he periodically posts to. you can love zach too if you wanna. http://www2.foxsearchlight.com/gardenstate/blog/

tried a new class at cheetah last night: urban grooves. we had a sassy gay boy subbing for the regular instructor and he sure was fun. it was mccluer pom pon all ovah again, complete with moving diagonal formations. his best quip of the night, while showing us a hand slap move, was, "just slap him right in the face, like 'get the fuck away from me!'" the regular teacher also has a hip hop class on wednesday nights that is going on my schedule fo' sho.

Woonsocket and i had a really nice time together on saturday. she introduced me to the ulta, where i promptly had a spending fit and dropped 100 bones on girly products that i may or may not need. i especially gravitated toward lip glosses and now have five brilliant new hues to cover my "buggy whips". this store is conveniently located next door to our whole foods, so there is a threat of multiple return visits on my part. i was congenial to a evening weekend jaunt to wrigleyville because she was begging for dinner at thai classic. it's her and her fiance's old 'hood, so i was all for a little walk down her memory lane, which is the only reason i voluntarily went up there. we were extraordinarily lucky to find good parking and the food was pretty good too. slo-mo service, but i ain't gonna bitch at my people. that's disrespecting the industry brothahood, ya heard? the best part was getting the skinny on Woonsocket's birth mother tracking her down. she's never had a remote desire to meet or know anything about her initial pair of parents and given that she just turned 30, it was surprising that it had taken such a long time past age 18 for anyone to look for her. turns out that the baby mama has been looking for Woonsocket for years and because she's lived all over the damn place (just since college graduation, she's called massachusetts; new hampshire; maine; colorado; las vegas; chicago; rhode island and chicago again, home), she's been extremely difficult for this woman's private investigator to locate. oh yes, she hired the magnum p.i. to find my friend! Woon's real mommy dropped this greeting card from the baby mama in her lap during christmas shopping and as i suspected would be the case, my gurl felt nothing. from the get-go, she had no interest in meeting up, but her folks seemed to feel sorry for this woman and ended up inviting her and her husband over for dinner! Woon was freaking out, but all's well that ends well, because her dad called to make the arrangements and the hub of baby mama was totally bizarre on the phone. when pops introduced himself and made the dinner offer, this man responded with, "well, lori won't be able to do that for a long, long time" and hung up on him! Woon said it was an immediate end to this strange disruption in their lives as the b.m. has not contacted them again. we both wonder if this husband snapped when he found out she'd been looking for Woon and knocked her lights out. my gurl's comment was, "what, did he chop her up in a million pieces and put her in the garage when he found out she'd had a kid as a teenager?" it's not like she has any other children to be concerned about their feelings or impending familial drama. too, too strange.

time to celebrate fat tuesday with my all-time fave funk band in the chi, bumpus! headed to the harmony grill to have a snack with Mole before the show at schubas. methinks a crab cake is in order before i jump around to "yo daddy used to run the show!" hearos in hand and soon my ear, it's gonna be a sweet night.

sound advice for voiceover

had my first appointment with VoxyLady last week and feel very confident that i will find some success in this endeavor. it officially marks my final attempt to get anything creative swinging for myself in this city before i pack it up and move on. it's nothing negative in my eyes, just a realization that i no longer wish to subject myself to this insane cost of living if i'm not utilizing the city for my pursuits. and since i know i don't want to do theatre anymore (unless some really interesting opp reared its head and i was confident it would be lacking standard theatre folk drama) and the trials and tribulations of these flaky bands are not want i want either, i know i can be just as happy living la vida loca in new orleans and working the agent gig from home. i realize that this is going to require some serious work on my part, which i'm ready and able to do, but i firmly believe that there will be a nice r.o.i. at my disposal when it's all said and done. have my first coaching session on wednesday where i'll get in the studio and VL will assess my strengths and we'll start working from there. she's totally connected to the pulse of this industry, and if she can get LispyDramaQueen a mcdonald's spot, then i *know* there is work out there for me too.

bah dah bomp bah baaaaaah! i'm lovin' it!

a new crib for 130 bones

MeMaw came through with her decorating expertise this weekend. in less than three days, we assembled curtains for three of our rooms, added two new rugs (and gave new life to an old model), rearranged the dining room, added a fabulous set of asian-esque pottery barn plates to our serving stable, replaced our raggedy laundry baskets with a nifty pair of cloth bins on wheels, repaired our ghetto mattress with goosefeather heaven and hung 15 fabulous old skool record albums in the living room. with $130 on my end (plus Mole's blood bath & beyond/linens in strings gift certificates) and MeMaw's generous purchase of the rugs and curtain rods, we now live in an adult version of our former sparse abode. Mole feels like our home is now the best he's ever dwelled in, and i have to say that i'm very, very pleased with the results. once my instapaint arrives, we can get the den of love finished and that should put an end to our apartment updating for awhile, at least until we try to organize the arrival of the chaise lounge. why MeMaw couldn't have upped that thing into my possession when MrBojangles drove the wurlitzer and cane rocker up in here in that $350 u-haul expedition is beyond me. The WeatherBird has been chastising her about this as well, so the point has been taken.

made friends with two of the coach house girls on saturday night while we shoved their tiny ride out of an ice bank on our street. we was like a human team of sled huskies, shoving that car's grill in reverse with the power of eight hind legs. surprising that we hadn't ever really seen them to be introduced before, given that they've lived there for a year, but apparantly it is so. in a strange twist, within minutes of successfully releasing their trapped auto, i hopped in to move my own and got into the same predicament. a dashing young neighbor of eastern european flavah appeared from the shadows and did all of the steering for me through my open driver's side window in between occasionally murmured instructions, "move up" or "now, go back. stop." CoachHouseGurl cha-cha'd out of her waiting taxi to check on us and methinks was trying to chat up the Mole out on the street. before flouncing on to her evening's activities, she asked Mole if we knew each other and my cute man said, "yes, we are lovahhs!" and there was this fleeting look of disappointment on her mug that i surely can get down with, cuz i know i've been there on the prowl and it's a drag to find a man you're putting the flirt on has a lady -- and better yet, is really happy with her. feel free to look, but don't get greedy, my sistah. i'll cut you for real! :)

this week is turning out to be a busy one right off the bat. taking a day off work is sure to make the remaining four days rush by quickly. getting back on track at la cheetah with a yoga class tonight and believe i can stay on task from here on out. it's really a matter of just getting my dragging ass out of bed earlier in the morning and getting a jump on my day. have to feel good about netting another $7000 gig for march. that really made my day today. now, if i could just get a few more dates locked in for april, i should be able to go past my numbers for that month too. things are indeed picking up in agentland. if i can score this date for the SleepyComedian, it will mark the first national act booked by my hand, not to mention my first in fivefigureville. let us pray!

i was noticing last night that our current roll of paper towels in the kitchen proclaim the "simple pleasures of life" with some sailboat graphics and i can't help but wonder how one acquires the job of creating paper towel wisdom. is it an in-house position or some ad agency copywriter's plush assignment? the former man of my now minneapolis pal, LadyJ, was an addy copywriter who got to whip up all the kids' puzzles and quizzes on the back of some our finer sugary cereal boxes, so it's possible. i'm telling you, if you paid me to spout off my random thoughts on a roll of bounty, i'd have *plenty* of advice to share. for the environmentally conscious, "second only to dishtowels!"; commanding, "keep it muthafuckin' real!"; wonder, "sweet mystery of life, at last i've found you"; safety, "please use your turn signal"; simple courtesy, "if you sprinkle while you tinkle.....". i'd be sweet and cowtow to the inane demands of my sure to be superb clients, until they pissed me off and i decided to shag. then, look out, because i'd drop in some anti-war and bullshit on discrimation slogans and perhaps a tip on how to file complaints against the corporation with the better business bureau. bet those consumers don't know how about the asbestos they're smearing onto their kiddies faces with a bad batch of towels from a funkified factory that was swept under the rug. i'd find a way, on my way out da door. :) oh, the messages that could be spread about our country's landfills!