Odds and ends. But mostly odds.

It’s really hard being absolutist about stuff. Well, it’s hard most of the time. For example, I think Sarah Palin and Glenn Beck serve one purpose: giving low-information citizens the emotional permission they’re looking for to stay uneducated, hostile and solipsistic. I loathe Sarah and Glenn and I can barely be civil to their followers who keep giving them a platform to spread their pseudo-intellectual cancer. And I see no gray areas in this matter. Unfortunately, as an absolutist, I see no gray areas in lots of places. For instance! My abandonment of Coke Zero. I enjoyed my last Coke Zero on January 2 (I prefer to start my self-deprivations on Mondays) and while I want to drink another Coke Zero more than I want to choke Sarah Palin with the empty cup, cheating on my resolution is tantamount to quitting it altogether. So I can’t allow myself even a tiny little sip in my withdrawal process.

I am full of gray areas regarding this blog. I clearly don’t write in it much anymore, even though deep down I really want to. But I’ve just grown lazy and complacent about it. And as an absolutist I should just abandon it altogether. But then I’ll be minding my own business at a street fair or a diner or—as was the case this weekend—a lesbian birthday and suddenly a stranger will pop up and start saying nice things to me about my writing and my weird sense of humor and how he or she really, really, really looks forward to my posts and then I think SHIT. Now I have to go write in it again. And I’ll write a few more posts and then I’ll get lazy and then I’ll think I should just shut it down and then another pesky fan will pop up and peskily say nice things about my blog and the cycle peskily starts over. Darn you, pesky fans! Darn you like a sock!

My socks are in a permanent state of wetness. Because it’s snowier here than a girl who lives with seven tiny men in the woods. And I seem to have a highly advanced sense of puddle-dar. Because I keep stepping in calf-deep piles of snow and slush and wetness and then spending the day in wet socks. And the snow here is so deep and so copious that there’s no chance it will be gone any time soon. So I’m now carrying extra socks in my gym bag everywhere I go. And while we’re on the topic of the blizzard, I quickly grew tired last week of predictable little neologisms like snowpocalypse and snowmageddon and snOMG. So I wielded my considerable blogging and Facebooking influence to get everyone to start calling the blizzard Snownadu—which is both an homage to my favorite song ever plus a nod to the fabulous disco-ball effect you get when you cover a city in almost two feet of snow. But Snownadu never took off. Which is a total snowdgedy.

The snow is extra sun-glinty when your eyes are dilated. I went to the eye doctor on Saturday for the first time in probably five years. And I stumbled out an hour later with enormous pupils and an $855 bill for a checkup and ultra-expensive new glasses (because they looked better than the cheap ones and if I’m gonna start wearing glasses post-LASIK I want to look totally badass, or at least slightly handsome). But! Enormous pupils are not the ideal accessory for a sunny day in a city blanketed by a Snownadu (see how easy that is?). So I was forced to wear temporary roll-up sunglasses (because I forgot to pack real sunglasses even though I knew I’d be dilated) in my cab ride (because I didn’t think I should drive—especially in two feet of snow—with dilated pupils) home. Unfortunately, I wasn’t too proud to take a self-portrait. Or too smart to post it on my blog:

I can start rubbing my eyes today.

It's been four weeks since my LASIK surgery, and I've been struggling every waking moment since then to keep my damn fingers out of my eyes. But apparently now my eyes are healed enough that I can resume rubbing.

Just thought you'd want to know.

Either I've developed some newfound confidence that comes from not wearing glasses anymore or else I'm suddenly, randomly, the hottest man on the planet -- but I've gotten more attention in the three weeks since my LASIK than I've gotten in the three years I've lived here. Woo-hoo!

For example: Sunday night I went to Sidetrack after rehearsal and left with TWO phone numbers from two very hot men -- both of whom approached me! And then I had an awesome date with one of them Monday night. We chatted about everything and nothing for three hours in his funky loft condo and then went for a trashy dinner at Red Lobster. (And then I woke up this morning all bloated and garlic-y, but I guess it's better than waking up all pregnant and bleeding.)

I get the feeling he likes me a lot more than I like him, though. And over the course of our five hours together, he all but dropped the J-bomb on me three or four times. And in my superficial overview of his place, I didn't see one magazine or newspaper or any related periodical indicating a love of reading or following the news. But he's kind and decent and successful and intelligent and he has a strong sense of family, and our evening just flew by. Too bad I'm just getting started being the new and improved confident (read: two-eyed) Jake ...

The recording session yesterday went well

We found this mammoth church with amazing acoustics and no ambient traffic noise (who knew such a thing existed?). This being Chicago, though, we still had to stop a couple of times when airplanes and a helicopter flew overhead.

Then Richard and I spent last night gossiping about men and shows and the new CDs we've discovered (including this amazing one) over pasta and ice cream and brownies. I got home and collapsed into bed for my first post-LASIK sleep without my stupid goggles. My eyes are getting better every day -- and I've noticed I have shocking clarity in full sunlight. Woo-hoo!

Now it's 2:15 in the afternoon, and I'm still lounging around the house in my underwear. I love Sundays.

VERY garlic-y pizza (which is a good thing) and a Queer Eye rerun last night with Paul and his roommates Brandon and Mike, who popped in and out as we sat enthralled for like the seventh time by the gay magic of Butch's transformation.

This afternoon I go in for a preliminary evaluation to see if I'm a good candidate for LASIK surgery—even though paying for it is really just a pipe dream. Maybe I could have a bake sale.