Who Wants to Have an Adult Sleepover?

Summer is coming to a close here in Chicago. The past several months have been packed with all the things you'd expect from summer in the city: we had the chance to take in some "Shakespeare in the Park," we enjoyed some local outdoor festivals (where we tried our 1^st bacon doughnut), and we grilled out at the community garden.

A few weeks ago, we even had a chance to see by brother, Jon, and his wife, Andrea...for about an hour. It was rather unexpected. They were flying back from a mission trip in Haiti with the youth group from their church, and they were supposed to catch a connecting flight home to Kentucky from O'Hare. Because of a delay, they ended up missing their flight and made the decision to “sleep” at O'Hare. So Cary Anne and I drove out to meet them, and we spent about an hour catching up and hearing about their trip.

A couple of weeks later, CA's birthday rolled around. After she opened her gifts, we decided to head downtown to eat at an Irish restaurant Cary Anne wanted to try. Sadly, as we were walking out, Cary Anne shut the door before turning to me and saying, “You have keys, right?” I did not. So CA managed to lock us out. Luckily, since it was just the push-lock on the knob, we were eventually able to successfully McGuyver our way back in to our own place. (You can read about the whole ordeal over on my comedy blog.) So we ended up at dinner at The Kerryman about an hour later than we anticipated. It was actually a really nice night, and we got to dine out on the patio. The food was good, and we were endlessly entertained by the people next to us who were far too old to be having a conversation sprinkled with gems like, “In a decade, I don't think people will be getting married, because if I like a guy, I just want to have sex with him, not fight with him about loading the dishwasher” and “You can come over to my place tonight. My wife is out of town. I mean, we're not gonna do anything; just an adult sleepover, you know?”

Around that same time, I had to venture out the DMV to register our car here in Illinois. When I walked in, I was “greeted” by a large, older man on a chair wearing the lifeless expression every DMV worker has in TV sitcoms. He handed me the proper form to fill out. About half way through, I realized that the title was solely in CA's name , and she was supposed to be present to sign the form. I looked down at the fine print and saw that forging someone's information on the form could result in a $10,000 fine and up to 5 years in prison. I walked back to the large man and asked him for advice.

“Couldn't you just sign her name for her?” he said, barely looking at me.

I looked back down at the fine print. “I could...I guess?”

“Well, geez, that's what I would do,” he said, looking off in another direction to inform that the conversation was over. In the end it didn't matter because CA ended up having to fax her ID and written permission to add me to the new car title. Overall, the whole process was about as painless as you can expect from the DMV, and now were legitimate Illinoisans.

Lastly, here's our 5 seconds-a-day footage from July. Enjoy...