Est. 1983

I really hate including my graduation year in my literary agent bio.

I mean I really really hate it.

It makes me sound as though my college degree is one of my top credentials. As though I'm one of those "Class of '06, baby!" losers who wants every single person to know exactly where I studied and who I graduated with.

And I didn't even go to Princeton or Harvard or Yale. I went to a tiny school in Indiana.
Doesn't really scream prestigious academia, does it.

The truth of the matter is just the other day, someone asked me if I was still in school ... a question I get far too often. And everytime, I just want to scream "No, I'm not still in school. In fact, THERE ARE PEOPLE MY EXACT AGE RUNNING BILLION DOLLAR BUSINESSES AND LEADING NFL TEAMS THROUGH THE PLAYOFFS."

Do you think anyone would ask Jay Cutler or Aaron Rodgers to have their dad contact the service station if their car broke down? Of course not! In fact, they probably don't even get carded at restricted movies or have to tell their insurance guy that they don't qualify for the "good student program". And they're 1983 babies just like me.

So with a heavy sigh, I'll send my bio off to the conference organizers, my 2006 grad date in big, bold letters.

And maybe while I'm there, I'll walk around with a Jimmy John's Est. 1983 t-shirt. Sure, I'll still be one of the young-uns. I'm ok with that. I'm just trying to avoid people asking if I'm agenting as part of an internship (true story).

Any other ideas? BTW, mom jeans, lipstick and a darker hair color are out of the question.

Sidenote: I realize the Jay Cutler/Aaron Rodgers reference was random ... but I'm SO excited for Sunday's game that I couldn't resist. Go Bears!

of dreams and english things

I had a friend in college named Jason.

We had plans to visit England and do a bunch of literature-inspired things.

We were going to run in the moors, while I shouted “Heathcliff!” and he shouted “Catherine!”

We were going to search out 221B Baker Street.

We were going to visit Wessex and milk cows.

We were going to smoke pipes at The Eagle and Child pub.

We were going to do so many more things that now I cannot seem to remember.

That’s what happens when you don’t follow through with your dreams and plans and goals. You end up with a bunch of blank space where there should be exciting, inspiring memories.

10 points to the person who can tell me the literary significance/reference behind each of these without using the links.

Birthday

It’s my birthday today, and so far one of my favorite gifts has come from my friend, Jill, who sang Happy Birthday to me on my voicemail while she walked Michigan Avenue.

I melted. Because in case you are unaware, the way to my heart is through Chicago. That’s right. Just get on I-90 and keep going (provided you don’t hit traffic … which you will). You’ll inevitably run into my heart, which is nothing more than a giant mass, encompassing the Chicago skyline and part of Lake Michigan.

Jill knows this, which explains her voicemail. It also explains this note she sent yesterday:

In honor of your birthday, I am going to Chicago (on Wednesday--the actual day of your birth).

I will walk the Magnificent Mile and sing "Happy Birthday" (dear Amanda) under my breath.

I will eat at Cheesecake Factory and have them put a candle in my cheesecake and will blow it out while thinking about you.

I will attempt to look as "not touristy" as possible so as to not embarrass you.

I will (hopefully) visit the Sears Tower and refuse to call it Willis Tower by correcting every tour guide person I hear that calls it the wrong name. (I probably won't do this verbally, but I will be giving them the what-for in my head.)

And there you have it. My birthday gift to you. :) Enjoy.

I think my heart just grew a bit and swallowed the suburbs.

a conversation with myself

ME: Hmmm … will baby names always be a popular topic among mothers?

MYSELF: Of course. I mean you’re not a mother, and you’re already making a list of names.

ME: True.

MYSELF: Which reminds me, have we come up with any new boy’s names? We’re really lacking in the middle name department, because I’m not sure Tad will go for “Christian Roald Luedeke.”

ME: Well, I was thinking lately how some last names make great middle names.

MYSELF: Like what?

ME: Steinbeck. Fitzgerald.

MYSELF: Those are dead author names.

ME: So?

MYSELF: It’s the same problem we’re facing with Roald.

ME: Well, we could use some of Tad’s people’s names, too.

MYSELF: You really want to have a little Schwarzenegger running around?

ME: I was thinking more of a little Bale.

MYSELF: So now we’ve got Christian Bale Luedeke as our primary name option.

ME: Yeah … I guess I didn’t think that one through …

MYSELF: You’re welcome.

Note: This post should be taken at face value, as I am in no way implying anything or presenting a coded pregnancy message. I simply spend some of my work day researching mothers. Hence, the thoughts on baby names.

Personalize funny videos and birthday eCards at JibJab!

5 things to expect after the first Midwestern snowfall … aside from absolute chaos

1.People will have forgotten that snow is slippery. They will insist on going through life as though the ground is perfectly dry and the weather is 70-degrees. Expect many car accidents. Many people walking dangerously close to the side of the road. Many bodies going down in parking lots and on sidewalks. And a general disinterest in salting public walkways.

2. The snow plowing team will have forgotten where they put their keys. They will look out the window and think, “Hmm … I should get out there and start to plow and salt the roads. Now where did those blasted keys go?” Expect them to look for their keys for a bit and then go to sleep. This will result in a ten-hour delay before the salt trucks and plows begin doing their thing.

3. Ice scrapers will be MIA. People will go out to their cars and see that they have some snow on them. Or perhaps a layer of ice. They will look for their scrapers and brushes only to remember that they’re stored elsewhere. Expect snow-covered cars with only tiny cleared circles on the windshield through which the driver will peer. Expect the snow to fly off of these cars when they reach speeds in excess of 20 miles per hour and land on your clean windshield as you travel behind them.

4. Some people will freak out about the weather, while others will care less. Expect some of your acquaintances to give hourly updates with such bothersome facts as expected accumulation and temperature lows and snowfall duration. Expect others to go about their lives as though snow is their be-yotch. Expect to swear to yourself that you will never participate in either extreme because both are equally annoying.

5. The snow will be gone within 24 hours. Yup. You heard me. It will melt and disappear. Expect this process to repeat with point #1.

Welcome to the Midwest.

my friend Bradlemos

This is my friend, Brad:

(This was in 2004)

It's his birthday today. He's a quarter-century old. I've known him for six of those years. And for me that's a long time. And it makes me very happy.

Brad has been like a brother to me. And without being weird or anything, I'd like to honor his special day by recapping his life as I've known it.

1. Brad showed up on campus my Junior year. He looked like John Mayer (remember, this was during Mayer's Room For Squares phase ... when he had curly hair and eyes that didn't look like death). But Brad didn't just look like John Mayer, he sang and played guitar, too. But my girlfriends and I quickly moved past that and became Brad's friend.


Come to think of it, we befriended a lot of boys Junior year. but that's another story for another time ...

2. Soon after meeting Brad, we gave him the nickname Bradlemos. Or Bradlar.

Bradlar - to sing and lead others in praise and worship in a way that may or may not make upperclassmen jealous.

Bradlemos, of course, was the plural form of Bradlar.

3. Every Tuesday afternoon, Brad and I had what we called Brad and Amanda Quality Time Time. (Yes, 'time' was repeated) During this time of quality time, we would either sit in the Dining Commons and talk, or we would go on very crazy and fun adventures. Like once, we went to Autozone and changed the headlight in Brad's Taurus.

4. When I graduated college and had moments of hysteria at the thought of entering the real world, Brad listened to my woes. And then when he graduated a few years after and went through a similar time of craziness, I returned the favor.

5. For a few years after we were both had graduated, we even lived near each other. It wasn't planned or anything. It just happened. And looking back, I'd say it definitely was nice to have a friend nearby after college was over.

(Here is Brad, smelling Tad's neck)

Fast-forwarding to present day ... Brad and Tad are great friends. They roomed together in college and were even in each others' weddings. And I guess you could say Brad has kind of transitioned to becoming more Tad's friend than mine ... which is totally ok.

Because I'm friends with Brad's wife Bekah!

Here's the first time I met Bekah.

I even have a nickname for her.

Berka.

She's not a fan and tries to call me "Mando" to get even. Maybe Brad should teach her a thing or two about accepting her nickname ... regardless of how silly.

Happy Birthday, Bradlemos!