If the Hyatt Calls, I've Never Seen Their Towels Before in My Life. What Missing Towels? (*throws towels in dryer*) aka Part II of When I Did Chicago

If you haven't read part one of when I did Chicago, you might wanna start there first.  Or not.  I'm not the boss of you.  You can start here, then go to part one, or never read part one at all.  But if you don't, you won't read about how I do not telepathically communicate with cows.  Up to you.

Where'd I leave off?  Oh yes, my unintentional act of burglary. (Not like the time I was five and stole the orange Tic Tacs from the store.  And ate them.  That was totally on purpose.  I wanted those little candy bits of orange wonderful but my heartless, cruel mom said no so what's a girl with no allowance to do?  Exactly.)

Imagine my excitement when I upload pics from our trip and see him.  HIM.  In a lovely scenery shot from Shedd.

At first I considered leaving his photo off here to protect his anonymity as a victim of theft.  But then I figured he probably doesn't have a wireless connection for his laptop under the bridge so it's all good.  He'll never see this.  But if he does ever see this, dude, I'm sorry.  I thought when you approached us and said, "enjoy a free paper" you really meant for us to "enjoy a free paper."  Plus it's The Onion, which is funny, so I'm all, "yay, free and funny paper.  Thanks random hobo."  Then when you mentioned a "donation" for the homeless, it didn't even dawn on me that you meant YOU, but the Hubby is more street smart than I so he handed his copy of the "free" paper back and said no thanks.  But I'd already started strolling away, reading the first page.  I didn't realize that proper hobo etiquette dictates that I had to give the paper back.  Or give you cash.  (which makes zero sense because why would I pay for a free paper?  You didn't even pay for it.  It's like marketing 101 .) And when Hubby called after me to stop, and I looked back at you both and saw you both staring at me like I was a fool, and I just smiled and then kept walking away?  Well, I have no idea what is wrong with me.  Really.  I must have missed a course in college or an episode of Oprah that covers communication with the homeless.  So I apologize.   It was a good paper though.  I just hope to hell it wasn't like your blanket or something.  At least it's above freezing at night time now, right? 

After all of our obligatory tourist photos by random signs and landmarks, it was time to head back to the suburbs to our hotel for the night.  You know, to eat dinner and read my stolen paper.

But not before our GPS bitch decided to starting fucking with us and ended up forcing us through 40 minutes of heavy downtown Chicago traffic that was also about 50% road construction because we didn't listen to her first exit "recommendation" and she was probably all, I'll show these assholes what happens when they decide not to follow a NASA engineered, all knowing satellite.
Take seventeen lefts, then a right through a parking ramp, then twelve more lefts, then jump a pothole, side swipe a taxi, make an illegal u turn, and then take an immediate right into a dark alley. 

I honestly began to wonder if the government doesn't have some sort of wire tap in GPS devices to listen to your secret family conversations and screw with your directions for fun.  Because if I worked for the CIA or something, I'd totally do stuff like that.  I'd wire tap anyone and everyone I could think of, and also rig their home electrical systems to turn their lights off and on at random.  Plus I'd have universal remote controls so people would try to watch Glenn Beck but I'd automatically change it to Jersey Shore.  (both crap programs, by the way.)
I'd also put video cameras in David Beckham's shower.  
For matters of national security people.
What?  Like you wouldn't abuse that sort of spy power too?  

After we rested, we cleaned up and headed to the Cheesecake Factory for an amazing, 100,000 calorie meal.  Sigh. We made sure our hotel room had a fridge so we could bring some more cheesecake back to our room.  For a midnight snack.  And breakfast.  sigh.
banana cream cheesecake from Cheesecake Factory.  I mean, from the gods.

Stay tuned for the final part of the overly convoluted tale of when I did Chicago.  In part three you'll read all about how I inappropriately fondled Lego figures at Legoland Discovery Center, Chicago.  Plus, GPS bitch is at it again when we try to go home.   It's good stuff people.

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