1. A disabled trans man is the new International Mr. Leather. Something to file away for the next time someone in the trans community accuses all gay men everywhere—and not just, you know, me—of being rabid anti-trans bigots.banned the sale of barebacking videos at IML's Leather Mart this year. Which seems right. But they're allowing people to sell—and show—bestiality videos. Which seems way wronger than orca dildos.
3. You ask the waiter if the dish can be made without eggplant, the waiter assures you that the dish can be prepared without eggplant, you ask if she's sure you can get it without eggplant because eggplant makes you wanna hurl, she promises that there will be no eggplant. You know where this is going, right?
4. The char polish at the Wiener Circle on Clark Street is worth a trip to Chicago all by itself.
5. I grew up here. No one cared about the Blackhawks, no one ever talked about the Blackhawks, no one ever went to Blackhawks games. Cubs, Socks, Bears, Bulls. But suddenly everybody cares about the Blackhawks.
7. The lakefront. The bike path. Spend the day in Chicago's endless lakefront park and you'll wanna get in a time machine and go slap Seattle's founders to death for preserving so little of our waterfront(s) for parks/recreation/posterity. And spend a day at one of Chicago's beaches and you'll never be able to take Madison Beach seriously ever again. And while you're in your time machine go slap whoever is responsible for those hideous condo towers at Madison Beach.
8. My hotel room has a view of the Hancock Building, which has been hit by lightning three times while I worked on this post. Every time I use the word "bestiality" in a post, I have to look it up. It's like a mental block. These are unrelated, but I wanted to keep the number of items in this post down to ten.
10. Your dish comes with eggplant. You don't eat it—but you don't complain or send it back because another guest at your table works at the restaurant and the chef has been sending out samples and appetizers and small plates throughout your meal and you're stuffed (and grateful) and the food has been awesome. Except your entree. Which has eggplant all over it. But you don't send it back. But it still strikes you as odd that the waitress doesn't ask you why you didn't touch your entree, which deprives you of the opportunity to point out that THERE'S EGGPLANT ALL OVER IT. So you bottle up your rage and that's how people get ulcers and die. That and thinking about someone actually using an orca dildo.