Maid

My sister and her husband (the king and queen of the Magic Kingdom) have a live in maid, Miss Gwen. A little history here, in Jamaica, it is not uncommon to have a live in maid, or two (called helpers), they basically do that they help, cook, clean etc. The king and queen have of course taken this to a new level, Miss Gwen wake up at 5 every morning to prepare a full "west Indian breakfast" that is served promptly at 6:30 for the prince of the kingdom so he can get to school and then again for the king and queen at 7:45. There are two sittings in which the table is set with china and cloth napkins. Miss Gwen serves the food into plates, and upon request even cuts the kings food into bite sized pieces (no lie). After breakfast, (the king leaves scraps of left overs on the plate saying "Gwen-do don't throw away this toast and used tea bag this is for you", Gwen has to put on her cleaning clothes and clean the house daily from top to bottom. They live in a town house on 4 floors, which she uses boiling water and rags, on her hands and knees to clean. She then prepares lunch and dinner in a similar fashion to the breakfast. Her day usually end at around 8 or 9 she sits on the stairs to the basement, until then waiting to be called upon for snacks or the spot in the tub that she missed while cleaning. She sleeps in the basement on one of those benches that are just long enough to fit under the stairs. I wont even say how much she gets paid, but lets just say that you or I would spend that easily in an afternoon out. She works from Sunday night until Friday afternoon. So when she said that she wanted to clean my place on Saturdays, I objected, that is her only full day off, she has a husband, get some rest, and truthfully, I really didn't feel like hiding the porn, and feeling the embarrassment of another person, cleaning my crap.

She however did not take no for an answer and bright and early this morning knocked on my door, pushed past me rag and bucket in hand, and cleaned this place from top to bottom. Its so clean I don't even want to sit down for fear that I'll mess it up. When I tried to give her some money for her troubles, she was very offended, and said that I remind her so much of my mother, and that she would do anything for her. So she would do anything for me, that she want to make my place nice and "sexy"

So now that I have a nice "sexy" apartment, all I need to do is have sex here.

Market Days 2005 take 1

One of the highlights of living in Chicago is Market Days, or the idea of what market days should or could be. It is this street festival in Chicago that happens once a year, down Halsted Street, in "Boystown" (West Coast Dana coined the name years before it became popular). Marketdays has the makings of a good time. Its summer, the streets are closed off for two days and nights, you can drink, and smoke, eat and shop, for over 24 hours. The boys, work out at the Baly's at Century Mall all year so they can wear their shorts low and their shirts off. For me it has always been a guilty pleasure, I can drink all day, look at boys and hang out with friends... that is in theory.
When I moved back to New York, I promised myself that I would come back to Chicago for Market Days, and party. So Here I am in Chicago, marketdays (MD) is over, and alas like most of them before, the thought of the Side show, was again so much more promising that the reality of it (the story of my life).
I must say that it was really good to see my friends, I had great times, laughing at silly things that at the time were so funny but you would have had to be there to get the joke, I was able to have Sunday Brunch, a ritual of my Chicago life that is absent now it was even good to go shopping on the Mag Mile. There is always that person that you run into that make you fell good about staying in the sun all day because that is the only time that you will run into them.
The thing with days like these is that there is a group of folks that you have to coordinate with to get anything done, so that can be a drag at times. The low point was when the group decided that it was time to eat, I could have kept on drinking, and looking at the strippers at Cocktail, and that we would travel by taxi, to a restaurant, for burgers...think about that, we left a street fair, you couldn't swing a cat without hitting a stand that was selling burgers, to get burgers.
I also felt like I looked good this MD. There have been years that I have been there and felt as if I was the ugliest fattest thing that was in the throngs of people there, but on the eve of my 40th birthday I must say that in a crowd of buffed, shirtless, shaved bodied men, if didn't feel like going home and hiding under the bed in a room with no mirrors.
I actually missed Chicago for the first time since I left, and truthfully, it was a little more emotional for me to leave than it was the day that I moved.
Funny huh?