I'm in "Boss!" with Kelsey Grammer

When did life get so busy? Do you remember about a year and 1/2 ago when I was underemployed, working at Ann Taylor Loft about 10 hours a week? Or two years ago when I was unemployed? When I prayed that I would find my path and get a job, someone was sure listening.

Now I'm going to grad school full-time which is about 30 hours of class time a week. Then there's homework and projects on top of that, which is at least 10 hours a week. Despite my adviser's warning that people don't work while in this program, I'm also continuing to do freelance PR work, which is about 20-25 hours a week. Then just for extra kicks, I'm also working at WBBM-AM as a writer, which is about 8 hours a week. Phew. I finally understand when people say they are so busy, they feel like instead of being good at one thing, they are sort of mediocre at a lot of things. (Hence why the lack of blog posts lately).

In the "Boss"

This weekend, something happened that truly made me realize how crazy things are. A friend of mine sent me this picture...it's me making an oh-so-quick appearance in the Starz show "Boss" starring Kelsey Grammer that aired Friday night. (I did some extra work this spring and summer. Side note--despite what his ex-wife says, Kelsey is super cool). Isn't that fun? Apparently, my Pops saw me in last week's episode too. But instead of being super obsessive like I was when I made an oh-so-quick appearance in "The Playboy Club" by watching the show, making all my friends watch the show, freeze framing the shot, and telling the world about it---now, I don't even have time to watch. I'm thinking I might be able to during Christmas break?

In other news, anyone have suggestions on how to write a 10-page paper, get interviews, edit and voice three videos and write four print stories while squeezing in three WBBM shifts and PR work in the next two weeks? Oy vay.

Chicago transportation: Not all created equal

When it comes to using public transportation in Chicago, you quickly realize one thing: it ain't equal.

For the past six weeks or so, I've been part of the daily grind for grad school. I've had to take a train downtown in the morning and back home in the evening. I learned quickly there is a fine art to it....you have to time it out just right so you can actually get on the crowded train without having to start your very own mosh pit. (Look out people! I'm coming in!)

I had been taking the red line L train for about a week when I started complaining to Mike that I could never get a seat because of all the bums passed out on it, and I was pretty sure I was getting the H1N1 virus just by touching the train's handles. He suggested I take the brown line since it goes to the financial district, so it might be a little cleaner.

The brown line. Look, there are seats!

The next day, I decided to give the brown line a whirl. As the doors opened, it was suddenly like everything was in slow motion and the angels were singing a lovely tune. There was not only room for me to get on, everyone on board was clean and reading things like the Wall Street Journal. Score! I thought, "How have I not discovered the awesomeness of the brown line earlier?"

As I was riding towards the Quincy stop, I started thinking about just how different the red and brown lines really are....

--On the red line, fellow train goers offers you a hit on their bong. On the brown line, they offer you a dollop of their Grey Poupon.

-- On the red line, fellow train goers are reading "How to successfully rob someone on a train." On the brown line, they're reading "How to protect yourself in a city" or "Why not to take the red line--one victim's story."

-- On the red line, you don't want to have your cell phone out, for fear it could get stolen. On the brown line, you can easily Skype your family back home in Minnesota.

-- On the red line, you'll likely smell like a mix of urine and Cheetos after you get off. On the brown line, it's more like an expensive cologne or bourbon.

--On the red line, you'll hear some crazy person yelling that the world is ending at the end of the day.  On the brown line, it's more of a warning to get your stock options in order.

--On the red line, if someone sneezes on you, you're most likely getting a flesh-eating virus. On the brown line, well it doesn't matter, because they covered their mouth with an embroidered handkerchief.

Do we give up too easily?

Courtesy: TV Fanatic

You've probably heard by now The Playboy Club got cancelled after just three short episodes. So sad! I was bummed when I heard the news, knowing how many good Chicago people were employed by the show.

What I was also bothered by is how quickly networks pull the plug on shows before really even giving them a chance. Three episodes, really? That's it? Have you ever gone back and watched the first few episodes of Sex and the City or Friends? They're certainly not fabulous yet, and the actors look sort of awkward or uncomfortable.

It seems like that's how we're becoming as a society...we need things to be instantly amazing, or else we're done with it. Before we're so quick to judge...I think we all need to remember how we were in the beginning. For example...

One of my first live shots in television news, I was so nervous, I even wrote my own name down on my notepad, fearing I would forget the basics for the sheer terror of being live. I was covering an attempted prison outbreak, and the blaring sirens in the background certainly weren't helping my nerves. During my live shot, I started saying the suspect's name, but to my horror, I couldn't remember it. I looked down at my notepad, but it was a blur of ink. I kept waiting for the graphics operator to pull up the suspect's mug shot with his name, but each time I said, "Let's take a look at the suspect," nothing happened.

So finally, without knowing what else what to do, I said, "I'm sorry, I can't remember the suspect's name."

I was humiliated and the live shot was just plain awkward. Thank goodness my news director wasn't like NBC, and decided to give me another shot.

Or how about the time I was learning how to drive a stick shift? My mom and I were coming up to a stoplight at about 40 miles per hour when the light turned yellow, and I panicked and slammed on the brakes. It became very obvious that if we came to a complete stop, it would be in the middle of the intersection, so my mom yelled, "Just keep going!" My nerves were rattled, so instead of putting the gear into 3rd since we were still going about 20-30 mph, I instead put it into 1st. We jumped, skidded and I'm sure, looked like total idiots. Thank goodness my mom decided not to take away my driver's license that day, deciding she'd give me another chance.

How about you? Do you remember the first time you did something? Perhaps you got a skinned knee while riding a bike? Or while trying your hand at playing hairdresser, you gave your Barbie a buzz cut? We're not always brilliant at first, but luckily we have people who don't give up on us so easily.

Now, do you get it network TV?

What a weekend!

Wow, what an unbelievable weekend in Chicago! On Saturday, the sky was as blue as Lake Michigan, and the leaves were vibrant yellows and greens. (Yes, God is just teasing us before he sends months of gray skies and piles of snow to us).

My pops was in town for a visit, so we decided to walk to Navy Pier to check out Oktoberfest. What we didn't expect to find was some beautiful colors from flowers and trees on our walk there, so I took a ton of pictures. Here's a collection of some of the ones I thought turned out the best, so enjoy!

The Secret of My Success

Courtesy: CDC

As a kid, I loved watching movies that showed the daily grind in big cities. Movies like "The Secret of My Success" with Michael J. Fox, where everyone on the crowded street walked in perfect harmony despite all the people and taxis whizzing by. All the women looked smart and beautiful, and I knew I wanted to be just like them someday.

So, here I am...living in Chicago and now taking part in the daily grind, and instead of feeling smart and beautiful, I've never felt more frazzled, crowded, rain-drenched and confused. I'm here to tell ya..the daily commute is so. not. glamorous.

Why didn't the movies show the bleeding blisters? The soaking wet girl who forgot her umbrella? Or the girl who always seems to get on the wrong train. (3 times now. Seriously, why is it so complicated? You go to the brown line stop, you expect you're getting on the brown line train, right? Nope, they throw in a purple line train just to confuse you. Although I did enjoy my long, scenic journey around the Chicago loop. The entire loop.)

What I've learned is that the daily commute is a fine science. You have to be alert, on your game and act very much like a defensive driver. For example, when you walk around the corner of a building, you need to make sure someone isn't coming around at the same time, or you'll smack into each other. You have to get around the slow people on the sidewalk, making sure you don't step in the street, because a cabbie or bus could hit you. You have to look both ways before crossing at a green light, just to make sure a crazy cabbie isn't running a red light. And while waiting to cross the street, you have to make sure your toes aren't too close to the edge, because they could easily get run over.

In terms of public trans, you have to have stamina to run up two flights of stairs when you hear your train coming and you don't want to miss it. You have to make sure you keep your train card in a pocket, so you don't have to fumble through your bag while people are waiting behind you. When the train is full, you have to quickly decide if you'll wait for the next one, or lunge your body onto this one, hoping you can fit.

I don't remember Michael J. Fox giving me a heads up on any of these things.

What I can also say is I have a new found respect for all the men and women in this country who work for 9 hours a day, and spend another 2-4 commuting. Their whole day is either working or trying to work. And from what I've seen, they look pretty darn good doing it.

The Playboy Club Premiere!

I know, I know, you're probably getting sick of me talking about it, but I just need to milk my 15 minutes of fame a little longer. (Or really my 5 seconds of fame, but who's counting?)

I asked (forced) friends and family around the country last night to watch "The Playboy Club" on NBC because Mike and I were extras when they filmed the pilot here in March. Since that time, I've been watching extras in movies and TV shows and I've noticed two things: they are almost always blurry or you just see their bodies and no heads, so I didn't have high hopes of seeing us when the show aired. I feared I cut off 7 inches of hair just to be a blurry streak behind the gorgeous Amber Heard.

To my pleasant surprise, about 2 minutes into the premiere, there I was! (Terrible teased hairdo and all.) Did you see it? If not, no worries, I grabbed some pics from online.

1st pic: That's me on the lower right, and yes, the super hot Eddie Cibrian is right behind me. Look, he's checking me out! I can totally tell.

2nd pic: Because I sense Eddie is checking me out, I decide to start writing him a love note on my "Playboy Club" cocktail napkin. 

"Dear Eddie, I know I'm just an extra, but I think we can make this work..."

3rd pic: Here, I've closed my eyes and I'm thinking about Eddie and me walking hand in hand on the beach in Bora Bora. I'm also figuring out how we can break it to LeAnn and Mike gently. 

All-in-all, working on this show was a great experience.  I learned even if you're just an extra and only on screen for a hot second, people think it's pretty darn cool.

Football Horror

In my 1+ year of marriage, I've realized there is one thing that is testing our relationship more than any other: we only have one television set.

Can you believe it? All of you reading this in smaller towns across America are probably spitting your drink out right now for the sheer horror/humor of it. You probably have 5+ TV's in your 4+ bedroom home, so you can easily watch Real Housewives of Beverly Hills while your husband watches ESPN Sportscenter. But for all of us living in small one bedroom Chicago apartments, we have to agree on what to watch 365 days a year. It ain't pretty.

Last night, Mike looked at me with a smile on his face and glee in his eyes, and said, "Are you pumped to watch football tonight?"

Um, what? It's Thursday night. I thought I escaped that torture until the weekend.

Nope, come to find out, there's football on nearly everyday of the week during season. I'm not just playing dumb, I truly had no idea. He told me with college football, there are some Thursday night games, Friday night games and Saturday games (all day.) For the NFL, there are games all day Sunday, Sunday night, Monday night, and after college football is over, the occasional Thursday night game.

Um, what?

So what you're telling me is that I only have Tuesdays and Wednesdays for RHOBH, RHONY, The Bachelor, Dancing With the Stars, Extra, Access Hollywood, Jersey Shore and any of the other can't miss shows? I don't think it's possible.

I responded with, "Do you realize I'd be perfectly fine if I never watched another football game in my entire life?" He looked shocked and sad, and I realized it's best I saved that nugget of information until after he put a ring on it.

I said, "Look at it this way. You'd die happy if you never had to step inside a multi-floor Macy's ever again."

I think he gets it now.