2) On a long car ride—if you're not insane, this works best with another player—amuse each other by only speaking in sentences that involve two clauses, independent but related, that could conceivably be fused with a semicolon. Try it; this game is harder than, and as personally embarrassing as, it sounds.
3) Eschew the em dash.
4) Missionary style.
5) Use the semicolon to ingratiate yourself with a future employer by inking it onto your forearm, if you happen to work in the media industry. I did not actually get the semicolon tattoo with a job in mind, though my then future (now former) boss has joked that it was the reason she hired me. I actually didn't get the semicolon with much in mind at all, plus I was sober, so there's really no good story behind it: a friend of mine was learning to draw tattoos and offered to do simple designs for the cost of materials; I liked semicolons, so I thought I'd ask him to put one on my arm.
Sam: I thought [the Atlantic article] was totally underwhelming. I read it once and thought it was sort of blandly inoffensive and then I reread it on the train this morning and started scribbling angry notes in the margins.
Julia: In reaction to what?
Sam: Maybe I need an adult to talk me down. But it was so singularly focused on not just, like, run-of-the-mill upper-class women, but actually basically two types of people—diplomats and CEOs, or "C-level jobs," as the author put it—that the advice it offered would seem to be extremely limited.
Like at a certain point she's talking about her work in the State Department, where she's obviously got an insane schedule, and she says something about "the minute I found myself in a job that is typical of the vast majority of working women" to illustrate a point about "working long hours on someone else's schedule," but it's like, man, the vast majority of working women don't report to Hillary Clinton.
While I think we might be better advised to turn our collective cold shoulder on Stephanie Rosenbloom's travelogue of Sex and the Second City, so as to starve it of clicks and discourage her editors from assigning any future travel travesties, I think there's a way to uncover what's missing from the piece, and without sending any more traffic its way. I cut up "Single in Chicago," removing 90 percent of the words while distilling the story's meaning. (If only every article on Brooklyn in the Styles section could get the Humument treatment as well.) Read the poem after the jump.
I'm nowhere close to being a Morrissey devotee—that ship set sail after one too many 80s nights in my early 20s. I'm also much more of a dog person than a cat person, so the cat-meme Internet thing feels a bit tired to me, to put it lightly. But in honor of the recently announced Morrissey concert at the Chicago Theatre (on sale this Saturday at 10 AM) and the Reader's imminent Best of Chicago issue—check our Twitter feed beginning at 6:30 AM tomorrow for winner announcements—here's a photo of Morrissey with a cat on his head:
Over the past few months, we dug into the deepest pockets of the city to put together a Best of Chicago issue that gives a comprehensive yet unusual map of Chicago. But in our microscopic quest to cover all the ground we could, we didn't always have the opportunity, as a staff, to survey the Best of Chicago in a big-picture way. This week will be all about exploring what "best" really means, a wide-screen view of a specific term.
Also, starting Wednesday at 6:30 AM, we'll be rolling out select Best of Chicago winners throughout the day on Twitter, in anticipation of the full issue going live online at midnight. But we're letting you decide what winners you want to see. Go to Twitter, our Facebook page, or right here in the comments section and let us know which winners you'd like to see before the issue comes out.
And we're not just focused on the best . . . stay tuned for Worst Week.
Jordan began building House on the Rock in the 1940s. The outer structure, which sits atop enormous boulders, looks like a Battlestar Galactica ship designed by a Frank Lloyd Wright groupie. As soon as he began building 70 years ago, public curiosity grew. So in 1960, Jordan started letting visitors in for 50 cents a tour. Within the first year he’d made over $5,000. Today House on the Rock is among Wisconsin’s most popular tourist attractions, though prices have risen considerably: now full tours run nearly $30 per person for adults.
I just couldn't believe my eyes when I saw that blog. Those people were everything I wanted to be, and hey, I could be, because they were just regular folks walking down the street. Face Hunter brought me hope. But it also brought me a lot of heartache.
I was still living in Brazil when Yvan came shoot at São Paulo Fashion Week. Since I was contributing to a street style blog, I got my first SPFW media pass. I felt great. And I wanted to be on the Face Hunter. So I put a foot-long bow on my head, some crazy geometric print dress, a pair of yellow sandals on top of black tights, and preyed. I was hunting the hunter.