Fall might be the best time of the year in Cincinnati, but everything about the season isn’t cool. In fact, some things totally suck (sorry, pumpkin flavoring!). Here to debate the merits of 10 fall staples are CityBeat’s stupidest idiots smartest and coolest staffers.
Late on July 1, I was folding clothes at the Laundromat when my mom called, and I complained that there were no stories that night. It was quiet. Too quiet. I sat on top of a folding table, my feet dangling, when Mom and I got on the topic of kids. I told Mom that I wanted to adopt a little boy. “If I had a girl, I might send her back,” I joked.
One of the things I like about Facebook is finding old friends I’ve been out of contact with. One of those friends is Donita. We went to elementary and high school together, and we both lived in East Enterprise, Ind. Donita still does. She sent me a Facebook message saying she’s been trying to find me. She’s been holding a plaque that my twin brother and I won from a school talent show. I’m guessing the year is probably 1962.
Gangs of students and their parents are swarming UC’s campus these days. They’re there to get oriented — figure out where to buy books, how to register, where to work out, how to scope out the frat party with the best beer. You know, college stuff.
I was deeply disappointed and, frankly, shocked by the blatant racism displayed by Charlie Gibson in his recent Living Out Loud column “Garbage Watch” (issue of July 22). While I applaud the author for his efforts in educating your readers on the benefits of composting, I doubt whether it was necessary or even beneficial to impugn another nation, its language and its culture to make his point.
Years ago, all summer entertaining was done in the front of the house. Later, the party moved to the backyard. We started with placing a charcoal grill out back to grill up a few hot dogs and have since moved on to full outdoor kitchens, expansive sitting areas and large grassy lawns on which to play cornhole or catch.
I’ve certainly made strides in my personal life to consume less and recycle more. But lately — in complete opposition to the elation I feel seeing gas-guzzling SUVs replaced by energy efficient cars — a strange sadness creeps into my heart when I think about a world without paper.
They say when one door closes another opens. I was reminded of that truism last week in Over-the-Rhine. Kris Sommer took me on a walking tour of new housing projects along Vine, Main, Pleasant and Republic streets, many of them developed by the company he works for, Urban Sites. In a former life, Kris was an advertising sales rep here at CityBeat.
I always forget that East Coast-style culture is a mere five-hour drive from here because we have Chicago. Geography is a technicality. In Chicago, you get your “coast” (waves high enough to surf), your fashion (more gladiator sandals than you’d find in Pat Benatar’s garage) and, most importantly, your food (Chicago’s pizza will always win out over New York’s).
If you glanced at the bizarre image located near this text and were confused yet intrigued, Fischerspooner is accomplishing its mission. While its main purpose is to invigorate your body with shimmering Electronica, the band is also here to make you think outside the box. If you’ve gotten this far, you’re already deep into the rabbit hole to Fischerspooner’s fascinatingly synthetic world.