So I went over the Angie and Jordan's for dinner last night, and hung out with them and Ang's cousin Kayla, Kayla's son Ryan, and Ang's parents Tom and Colleen (hi Tom and Colleen!) Angie is still very pregnant, and she delighted in freaking me out by pointing out how her stomach would ripple as little Testicles shifted positions in her belly. I'm still easily freaked by this. I eventually had to flee when her stomach started making very audible "I am the devil's spawn! Get out!" noises. Seriously, it kind of sounded like Testicles has decided that he didn't want to be a human baby, he wanted to be an alien baby who would burst from the belly and consume everything in its path. So I left before that happened.

(I just called. He didn't. But Angie said she's consuming everything in her path, so there you go.)

While we were hanging out, Tom said something about how he enjoyed reading my blog. He then gave his rendition of the blog: "This is what I did this afternoon.....it SUCKED!" When you add that to Rob's parody (and Rob, when are you starting your own blog, hmmm?) and I'm beginning to think that this blog portrays me as nothing but a cranky if occasionally amusing misanthrope.

There's a couple of reasons that I tend toward the curmudgeon: First, it's a lot easier to write compellingly about things that go horribly wrong than things that go blissfully right. How many ways can you say "and everything was fabulous, and they all lived happily ever after, the end" before you get bored to death or your teeth rot from excessive sweetness? But the scope you get from venting spleen, the sheer range you get to explore when exploding with bile... it's immense. I figured this out early: My college essay wasn't about how much I loved working on the school paper, but how much I hated volleyball. And my mom says that's the best thing I've ever written. (We'll overlook, for a moment, how depressing it is to think that I reached my peak in a college essay written when I was 17. Sigh.)

Second, it's a lot of fun. You can go over the top and down the other side when you're being a snarky bitch.You can heap on the adjectives and hammer a point senseless. It's cool. And I firmly believe that people are more inclined to read the bad stuff than the good stuff. People like pain and suffering, and they like it even more when it's funny. If that wasn't the case, why would about 75% of my search engine terms be related to that damn bikini wax story I did?

Finally, when you get right down to it, I pretty much a cranky misanthrope, I am a snarky bitch. But that's not all I am, and I hate the thought of being typecast. So, today, I'm going to try writing about things I like. Happy shiny things. Things that make me glad to be around.

Fall weather: Yeah, it's a cliche, but I love this time of year. the weather is changing, the days are sunny and getting cool, the nights require blankets. Soon the leaves will start changing, and it will smell like fall -- spicy and warm and fleeting. It's my favorite time of year. I love it.

Chicago: It's big but not too big. It's sophisticated but still friendly. Great culture but minimal pretension. People from all over the world. An amazing park system. Fabulous spring and fall weather. Always-amusing politics. A sense of history but still newness. Green space even amid the skyscrapers. A sense of humor. It's a great place.

The Chicago Humanities Festival: The Chicago Humanities Festival picks a theme every year -- this year, Brains and Beauty -- and puts together a program of performances, musical events, speakers, discussions, exhibitions... all for $5 a pop. This year I'll be going to a regular discussion by foreign correspondents based in D.C. about how this country is seen abroad; a reading by Neil Gaiman, one of my favorite authors; a multimedia presentation on Helen of Troy; a lecture by Arthur Miller on politics and image; talks by Studs Terkel and Alice Sebold; and more.

The Music Box Theater and the Chicago Film Festival: Lawrence of Arabia, 70mm. An Akira Kurosawa retrospective. A real old theater with a Wurlitzer that rises from the floor in front of the stage and twinkling stars in the ceiling. I love this theater. Plus, it's one of many across the city that participates in the Chicago Film Festival, which is always cool.

My amazing friends and family: You know who you are. Thanks.

Right, my teeth are starting to hurt. I'm going to stop now before I feel the urge to snark again.