i’m out

dear chicago,

my relationship with you has been strained from the beginning. deep down, i’m a southern girl, and your cold, midwestern stylings just haven’t worked for me. i won’t miss your wind or your snow. i won’t miss the fact that you have given your freeways code names so the outsiders cannot understand your traffic reports. i won’t miss your never-ending sprawling boring suburbs. and i won’t miss winters that seem to last 8 months out of the year.

but these things i shall miss:

- concert buddies, first and foremost. you know who you are. and you rock like whoa. you held my hand swaying in front of pat sansone’s stripey socks. you got me water when i was parched. you made cat faces at me. you brought snacks and drinks for our long drives to and fro. you stopped strange lesbians from dry humping me. wait, no you didn’t. that actually happened. ass. i’ll miss you anyways.

- schubas. need i say more? i emo heart the schubas photo booth.

- portillos beef sandwich, dipped with sweet and hot peppers.

- dick prall. travel west, young man.

- crate and barrel. there’s no crate in nm. suck!

um… yeah… i think that’s all i will miss.

next stop: albuquerque.