Factory of Doom: Post recall #1

Here begins the practice of labeling all posts regarding the events of August with a little "Post recall #" tag, mainly to help keep me from getting terribly confused about what day it is, what I did yesterday, what I am doing tomorrow, the fact that tomorrow is not August 18th, etc.

So yeah, back to THE FACTORY OF DOOM.

One of those days back then, around the 12th maybe, Heather and I went downtown. I don't know if any of you are very familiar with my general habits in Chicago, but they don't often lead me downtown. I've never really done a whole there besides sit in traffic and wander around and go to train stations. This is probably why I never really realized how effing sweet it is. More precisely, I never realized how effing sweet it is until Heather took me out to a movie on the 8th floor of some Michigan Ave building and then to a nice restaurant. The restaurant in question is the Cheesecake Factory. Yeah, it's touristy and all that, but crap in a hat is it good. This led to overindulgence of its deliciousnessicities and, finally, the rupture of some important organ which proved to be painful and sleep-inducing but ultimately forgettable. The only blemish on the evening occurred when we stopped in at a bar on our way home to meet some friends. It was an Ohio State bar. Suffice it to say, it rubbed me in all the wrong ways in most of the wrong places. Still, pretty effing sweet night. The moral? Do not dismiss any restaurant, as touristy and gimmicky as it sounds, when it occupies half of the footprint of the Hancock Building. Also, if your successful girlfriend wants to take your broke ass out on the town, and all the dashed pride that that entails, let her :) That is all.

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