Has Thanksgiving weekend left you feeling unsatisfied?
Are you looking for some hearty goodness?
For all of you Unemploymentality fans out there (yes, I’m speaking to all 4 of you) I bring you Lyndsights
My new attempt at telling my story. Still me, with a little more depth, and just as much ridiculous-ness and shame as always.
Come, ride with me. (Said in the most creepy “unmarked van” voice I could muster)
Give it a chance…..spread the love the same way you did for Bob. Add me to your google reader, follow me on twitter (@rushbomb). talk amongst yourselves at the water cooler, tattoo my face on your bicep, etc. You won’t be sorry. Or maybe you will. Win win.
I’m asking ya’ll a favor….just as the addictive New Kids on the Block song demands, please hang tough through this hiccup in my blogging road.
I know I have been silent.
I know I have let you all down.
But I’m in the process of some maj life decisions and am trying to discover what the next chapter is going to look like and how/if Bob fits in.
Love love you all and if this turns out to be the end of the road, THANK YOU for your support, your web-friendships and for all of the laughs.
It would really suck to have a name that sounded like someone famous.
The co-founder of the Hover Round is named Tom Kruse. Brutal.
So, I’m trying to get back into the blogging swing of things so I thought I’d share a little bite sized gem I found on Craig’s List regarding a writing for trade deal.
I get that it’s a good idea to trade services…a you scratch my back I’ll scratch yours kinda thing…but this doesnt seem like anything I’d want in return for some writing work.
The title: Write your way to some free rent
The trade: Free rent for a room in a slightly haunted building near UIC/Bridgeport
Just what I’ve always wanted…a free, slightly haunted room!
A girl can dream,
Listening to: Martha teaching me how to cook
On my mind: When Michael Buble sings, he sings right to me. I promise.
…it bruises easily.
I know I seem super tough on the outside. Almost a Madonna-meets-Indigo Girls-meets-Demi Moore in GI Jane-tough.
But really I’m just a softy.
So when we were hanging around our Safari campsite and our cook Stephen made the following comment, I almost packed up and shipped myself back to America. Stat.
“She’s like Mr. Bean!”
The unsightly British man who, if I remember correctly, doesn’t even talk in his movies…just grunts. Is he even remotely funny? Any Bean fans out there?
I mean, I had a feeling my sense of humor wouldn’t translate in Africa but I never imagined it would come to this.
Stephen was laughing so hard he was crying and he kept repeating, “Mr. Bean…Mr Bean”
He may as well have tarred and feathered me and left me out as lion food.
Please glance upon the below image of Mr. Bean and tell me how you would respond if the comparison was made.
And of course Clare and Fulms could not stop laughing and have spent the rest of the trip reminding me of the uncanny similarities between us.
Stephen told me he thought I was so funny that I should stay in Kenya and he would be my business manager. I politely declined when I imagined the caption that would run underneath my press releases: American Female Mr. Bean Impersonator Delights Kenyan Audiences.
Aannnnnd Im out.
3 days till I’m home…I’m hoping I can round things out with a Carrot Top or Roseanne comparison.
Listening to: “God Must Have Spent a Little More Time on You” by N*Sync playing at the cyber
On my mind: I’d rather not have a perfume in my name at all then have it be selling at Walgreens or Walmart.
I leave tomorrow for Kenya.
My freak is totally freaked but I’m so excited.
I promise to come back with more blog inspiration (blogspiration) and without a raging case of yellow fever.
If you want to follow the kenyan adventure and hear about how I’m probably making huge cultural faux pas, check out www.yeswekenya.wordpress.com
Keepin it real since 1983,
Listening to: A waitress last night tell me that if i run into any trouble, to claim that I’m a Canadian. My friend Meggie then told me if I run into a pack of rabid dogs, not to run. Instead just back away slowly. What would I do without this solid gold wisdom?
On my mind: I’m really glad I can sleep on planes.
Goodbye for 3 weeks! Don’t forget about me!
One of the joys of living in this blessed city is the plethora of people that come visit you.
From old high school friends to distant relatives to baby’s daddies (just seeing if you were paying attention), everyone and their mom (seriously, they bring their moms) makes plans to visit Chicago at some point in the year.
And then we get to strap on our fanny packs and play tour guide.
This weekend is no exception and my older sister Meredith is coming into town to visit Emma and me.
I have posted a few things in the past that gives some insight into the psyche which is Meredith “Patron” Rush. (Nickname derived from a family function where Meredith made Emma and me take shots of Patron because she “couldn’t handle the fam right now”).
She lives in South Beach, she loves Gucci. She is an absolute riot. And we love her.
But with any visitor, there comes a list of expectations for their Chicago experience. Which means that to my dismay I have been to the Sears Tower and Art Institute and Navy Pier more than I care to divulge.
The following is the tall order that Emma got in a text from our sister about what she wants to do this weekend.
Really see the city. Mani pedis for all us b*&%$#s. You have a Chinatown? Yoga. Go down by the lake. Cubs game. Dive bar. One really nice dinner. Meet boy. Fall in love.
Shouldn’t be a problem. We come from a long line of multi taskers.
I wonder if there is anyone who has the name Manuel Labor?,
Listening to: The 500 Days of Summer soundtrack that is changing my life the same way the Garden State soundtrack changed my life in ’05
On my mind:Me likey crepes.
Welcome to the second edition of “Confessions of a Pre-teen Poet” an expose by Lyndsay Rush ages 11-13.
They really are only going to get worse from here on out, so buckle up, peeps.
This one, appropriately entitled “Common Misconception”, is my 12 yr old views on how misunderstood adolescents are.
It is written as a “take that!” to parents everywhere.
If Will Smith gets his hands on these powerful words, he’ll turn it into a killer PG-rated rap that goes straight to the top of the charts. Just imagine the music video potential.
So….<gulp> here it is. Remember, I did not make this up. In fact, I wish I did. This is the closing stanza from the 2 page poem and I think it really packs a punch:
…So for all the teens, runaways, delinquents and whores,Remember, grown ups everywhere, their pain’s as real as yours.
Take THAT grownups all over the world, take THAT!!!! How does THAT TASTE all you ignorant adults??!?!?
ps. I spelled ‘whores’ , ‘hoers’.
I still hate curfews! And responsibility! And chores!,
Listening to: Bamboozle is a fun word to say. So is wasps. So is merriment. However, these three things do not go well together.
On my mind: Saw the BEST fight at the cubs game today. 2 guys arguing over international politics…ok more like ‘which beer is best?’. The Cubs security is alerted to the escalating disagreement and start to kick out both guys. The whole time this is going on, the guys’ girlfriends are yelling “Stop it Marty!!” etc. Just when security has calmed it all down and is escorting the hooligans out of the ballpark, the one guy’s gf marches over to the other guy and dumps her ENTIRE full beer on his head and then throws the cup in the air in defiance and marches out. It. Was. AWESOME.