Chicago Style
Chicago Style stumbled upon a frightening scene the other week which shook me so severely that I've hesitated to mention it. While communing with nature as I walked along the Des Plaines River, I encountered a host of law enforcement officials recovering the remains of a body. http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,520915,00.html Imagine such a brutal crime occurring in our metro area!!! It's unthinkable!!!
Thank God we have such a crack state police force. One officer, who filled out his Government Issue uniform very well thank you, confided to Ms. Style that they have a lead on the killer and expect to make an arrest soon. According to our hunky cop, witnesses report that a tall, thin, bi-racial man in his late forties was seen smoking a cigarette in the area around the time authorities estimate the body was dumped. And our fast acting police also told Ms. Style that they've heard rumors that the suspect might have fled to the Washington D.C. area. Just what our nation's capital needs, another criminal. Stay tuned for further updates.
Now on to the questions.
Ms. Style, I'm a CEO of a prestigious, global corporation. As such, I received an invitation to have lunch with our President at the White House. After a lunch consisting of hot dogs and baked beans, the President's aides demanded payment for this pedestrian fare. http://www.politico..com/news/stories/0709/25627.html I was too stunned to object and I sheepishly paid their outrageous fee but I always thought that the host paid for the meal, not the guests. Am I wrong?
Gassy
Hey Gassy, wake up!! Not everybody in the world follows your white-bred Harvard Business School rules. Try a little diversity. It's a big world out there. In Chicago, if you're lucky enough to meet a big shot like Obama, you better bring your wallet. Who do you think you are anyway, Mayor Daley?
Oh by the way, what's wrong with hot dogs and baked beans, you snob. If you'd taken the time to learn the proper etiquette, you'd have known that in Chicago your host always has a big bottle filled with Tums for the inevitable heartburn that follows lunch. You paid for it but you were too stupid to know what to ask for.
I'm a reporter for a prestigious newspaper and have the plum assignment of covering the White House. Like all Americans, I was overjoyed at the election of Barack Obama and looked forward to an exciting four years. But once Obama took office, his aides informed us that the President would only take questions from a pre-selected list of reporters. http://online.wsj.com/article/SB123431418276770899.html I was selected once but for all the other press conferences, I was not allowed to ask any questions so I was about as useless as tits on a bull. Should I ever bother to show up for these farces?
Prop
Come one Prop. Just because you're not allowed to ask a question doesn't mean you don't serve a purpose. President Obama is an important man and the whole world hangs on his every word. How would it look if only five reporters were sitting there to ask his opinion? You may only be a prop in a given press conference but you're fulfilling an important role.
Ever been to a movie, Prop? They fill a crucial role. What would Psycho have been without the shower curtain or Northwest by Northwest without Mt. Rushmore? Look at it this way. You may not be the star but the star needs you to shine. My advice is to shut your mouth, sit there and make Obama look good.
I've been a news photographer for years. My work has appeared in every important publication in the country and I've made a good living. For the first time in my career, my bosses are refusing to publish my work. More specifically, I've got a series of candid photos of President Obama smoking cigarettes, including one at the Vatican. My bosses tell me that these photos portray the President in an unflattering light and they would prefer not to print them. When Bush was president, they never had such a problem. I had pictures of Bush's ugly legs as he jogged, pictures of him throwing up, and even a picture of him looking down some chick's blouse.
My motto has always been to report the facts and let the chips fall where they may. I feel like I'm comprising my integrity and should resign. On the other hand, things are so screwed up right now that I don't think I'd get another job and I need the money. What should I do?
Principled
You're way off base on this one, Principled. First of all, I don't know where you get your news but Ms. Style knows that things have never been better in this country. Every since President Obama's bold, unprecedented stimulus plan took effect, the economy in this country has been booming. There's millions of jobs out there. If you're really as good as you say you should have no problem finding a new job.
I think your belief in this myth that the economy is in trouble and that you'll never get another job is a warning from your subconscious that your principled stand is a bunch of crap. Of course your bosses loved your pictures of Bush because he was a screw up and was rightly attacked and ridiculed at every turn. President Obama is different. Historians are already in complete agreement that Obama is the greatest president this country has ever seen and they are now debating the idea that Obama should suspend the Constitution and rule as a dictator. Personally, I'm all for it but I don't what to turn this into a political column.
In short, why pick at this great man's little flaws? Nobody's perfect, not even God. Hell, the Earth He created was so messed up once that He had to flood the whole damn thing and start from scratch. If God could screw up this badly surely you can cut the President a little slack.
My husband recently took on a high profile, stress fulfilled job that is causing me a lot of problems. This job is out of town so I had to quit my own high-paying job and relocate my whole family. As part of this job, I'm expected to fulfill the role of the "good wife" and I spend my day hosting parties and wasting my time on charity work. This job also involves a lot of travel. We've been all over the world and I'm so screwed up that I don't even know what time it is.
I really miss Chicago and wish we could come home but my husband's job lasts another three and a half years, plus he has an option for another four years after that. I'm in hell. And to top it all off, with all the pressure, my wrecked career, and the bullshit work I do now, I've become really depressed and turned to food as my salvation. I'm really packing on the pounds lately. My ass is becoming huge and my husband's friends are starting to notice.
Help
Big Ass
Ms. Style is so sick and tired of fatsos like you BA, wining and bawling about the inevitable results of your poor choices. Did you ever think about how much you hogs are costing us because you can't use your fat arms to push yourself away from the table? Go sit down at a computer, sans chips, and check out this article about how much money I pay for your healthcare http://www.post-gazette.com/pg/09214/988131-114.stm
My advice to you BA is to suck it up, join a gym, and stop eating like a pig. And you better hurry up. You're husband sounds like a pretty successful guy. He may get sick of sleeping with a fatso every night. You might get your wish to come back to Chicago sooner than you think because he might just throw your big ass out on the street. Did you ever think of that? Well I did which is why I'm Chicago's foremost expert on style and etiquette and you're just a fat hog.
Editor's Note: Chicago Style is taking a short vacation before she travels with our most famous citizen, President Obama, to Martha's Vineyard. Look for Ms. Style and the President to show those stuffed shirts up there a thing or two about how we roll here in the Windy City.
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