Now in their second year, the Green Awards prove there is no end to our citizens’ eco-accomplishments. With nearly 100 nominations to choose from, we narrowed the list down to five remarkable individuals who strive for a brighter, cleaner, and greener future.
Bright spots on the month’s cultural radar
So there we were, in a sterile room somewhere near the corner of 59th and Maryland on the South Side of Chicago, my wife leaning against me on the floor. Per her request, I’m supporting her from under her arms, almost like a headlock. We’re surrounded by people, most of whom we don’t know. Our doc and nurse are on their knees in front of us, and my parents, whose flight leaves in two hours, are right behind them, taking pictures of my wife’s vagina.
Then it happened so fast. She started pushing. Huge, grunty pushes that turned her whole body into a steel pillar, thick and immovable. Every time she did, she screamed, and…
LGS is returning from a weekend of bonding with The Boyfriend’s parents; check back Thursday for her report on John Legend and all things glitzy at Art Smith’s World Festival.
The contractions were coming faster and faster on that floor, and every now and then Sarah would mumble something incomprehensible. “Please give me a minute here,” I heard her say at one point.
“Who are you talking to?” I asked.
“I’m making a deal with my body here,” she said. “Shut up.”
I did, no matter how much she pleaded with the contractions. Her natural response was to…
Trouble keeps finding Betty Loren Maltese, the imprisoned former town president of Cicero. Her adopted daughter has learned the harsh truth about her mother. Rancor has boiled up with Ed Vrdolyak, her financial protector. And her hopes for an early release have largely vanished. But even stripped of power, freedom, and big hair, Betty is still full of brass
If you’re Irish like me—and a South Sider to boot—you know that St. Patrick’s Day isn’t just a day. Basically, the entire month of March is St. Paddy’s Day. The festivities generally kick off with the South Side Irish Parade, which was held this past Sunday.
To get you in the spirit of celebration, we present a collection of photos from South Side Irish Parades…
While I sat in the hallway, locked away from the only person on earth I wanted to be with, my wife was apparently giving them hell in triage.
They took her blood pressure, which was fine, but when a resident came in ten minutes later and put the blood pressure cuff on, Sarah asked if it was necessary.
“Well, uh … ”
“Apparently not,” Sarah said, and ripped it off…
Sarah hijacked this entry, which is fine with me. After all, it’s her uterus; maybe it should be her words, too.
At some point after Jeff turned off Napoleon Dynamite—which I never really wanted to watch—I went back to bed and fell asleep. When I woke up around 1 a.m., Jeff was snoring in our bed, his dad was snoring in the guest room, and his mom was snoring on the basement couch because she was sick and didn’t want to keep Jeff’s dad awake. I couldn’t go anywhere. I was still having these terrible constipation pains, so I took a bunch of magazines and pillows into the bathroom and put on some music…
Lately, I’ve been thinking about joining a Polar Bear Club—you know, those maniacs who load up on Bloody Marys, strip down to nothing at the North Avenue beach, and hop into the freezing lake for charity. Then I heard about Sean Cooper.
