Hey June

The first weekend in June saw the arrival of Cody Engel and his wily, 6 year-old offspring, Milo. We did the tourist/fanny pack thing, hitting up Lou Malnati's (and their creepy Bulls paintings) for some deep dish before storming the gates of the Hancock Building, Navy Pier, Millennium Park, Michigan Avenue and the Lincoln Park Zoo.

At one point Cody left his phone in a cab, causing him to sweat like Marlon Brando at Wing Fest, yet the story had a happy ending, for what the cabby lacked in English he made up for with integrity and an investigative spirit not seen since the heyday of Sherlock Holmes. We were reunited with Cody's phone the next day, but not five minutes later our elation turned to horror, as upon entering the zoo, we witnessed a giant ape eat his own poop.

Milo is quite the little movie buff, so we ended up going to see Up (good) and Land of the Lost (not good), and capped off each night with some games FIFA 09', reruns of Flight of the Concords and Thai delivery. We sent the leftovers to the Lincoln Park Zoo, care of 'giant apes'.

Cody and Milo at Lou Malnati's.

Since then we've kept busy with Andersonville Summerfest, our hood's annual street fair, replete with happy gay men, Goose Island beer, fancy strollers and of course, the ubiquitous shirtless leathery guy drinking Busch and taking your picture while you pretend to surf on a plastic tidal wave.

We also took in a Cubs game last Sunday, this time much more successful than our first foray, as the Cubs handed Kerry Wood's Indians a 6-2 loss while we sunned ourselves in the bleachers. People watching (or as Katy calls it, 'd-bag watching') in the bleachers really never gets old, especially when accompanied by a Cubs win and the chance to sing 'Go Cubs Go'.

The footlong dog at Wrigley. Kraut, grilled onions, tomatoes, mustard and relish for color. Don't be a wuss and get those crappy steamed ones that the vendors come around selling. Those things are barely a step above jailhouse slop. Not pictured: Mandatory nachos with extra peppers.

I've been keeping busy with work, helping out with a couple of red carpet events and press tours and planning a few more of my own. The next two weekends we'll be back in Iowa, splitting time between Cedar Rapids and Waterloo this weekend and then spending the Fourth in Okoboji with Dad and Chris. I haven't been to Okoboji since I was tight-rolling my Dockers and hanging posters of a still black Jacko* (RIP) on my wall, so that should be fun.

I imagine that one of those weekends may mark the first time all summer I've been able to take my shirt off, so ladies, you're in for a real treat. In most cultures, me taking my shirt off for the first time marks the official beginning of summer, kind of like a white trash Groundhog Day type of thing. If the glare from my chest blinds onlookers that means only 2 more months of summer! Keep your fingers crossed and your sunglasses on.

*No joke, that really was the first poster I ever had up in my room when I was like 5. Kind of creepy in hindsight.

Cody and Milo at Navy Pier. Milo is looking for Somalian Pirates!

View from the Hancock Building. If you look closely you can see our place, with Carmella sitting in the window, looking indifferent.

The view from the bleachers at the Friendly Confines.

Epic Handfelt-Petersen Summit In Galena, Cubs Lose Again, Pictures of Food

Since we have posted anything since the GeoCities era of the Interwebs, I figured I would take it upon myself to do the heavy lifting of making our rather ho-hum lives seems chic and dashing yet again. Katy seems to have some sort of seasonal allergy to blogging and Carmella thinks the whole thing is lame, so once again the onus falls on me. Fear not dear reader, as in the coming weeks we lots of built-up monotony to share. Let's dive head first into this batch.

• Over Memorial Day weekend we paid a visit to the quaint city (town?) of Galena, where we met up with Katy's parents and did the whole Galena thing. We walked the main drag, visiting lots of homey shops and stocking up on some salsas, jams and assorted homemade delicacies. Harry and I sampled a hot sauce that could be described as both 'life altering' and 'life wrecking', depending on the sample size. Let's just say that my chest went from clean shaven to this in a matter of seconds. We ate an early dinner at the awesomely named Benjamin's and then made a brief pit stop to see Cory, Gretchen and the kids just long enough for me to comment on my brother's rather heinous golf stench. Then we hopped back in the Saturn, peeled out and floored it back to Chicago. (I floored it not because we were in a hurry to get home, but more because I'm a badass.)
  

Cindy, Katy, Harry and Chandler Bing. If you look closely you can see the steam coming out of Harry's ears from the hot sauce aftershock.

• On Sunday, May 28th we took in our first Cubs game of the year, a nationally televised night versus the Dodgers. Alas, the Cubs must have been nervous knowing that the Handfelts were in the crowd scouting them, as they proceeded to peel the ivy right off the wall with their stench, losing 8-2 on a nipply night at Wrigley. We ate at The Stretch before the game and it was once again delivered. You have to get the Clark Burger. A little slice of heaven on a toasted bun. We also stopped by Sluggers in search of a rumored photobooth. The photobooth is long gone, but Katy was able to get in a couple of quick games of Skeeball, rocking out like she was at Showbiz in the Regan Era. Remember that creepy banjo playing bear with the overalls? I did some digging and apparently these days Billy Bob isn't allowed within 200 feet of a school, or ironically, a Showbiz. One time I woke up in a cold sweat only to find Billy Bob standing over me with a knife. Then, just like that, he was gone. I swear that wasn't a dream. The smell of wet bear still sends chills down my spine.
  

Katy is all smiles here. Little does she realize that Billy Bob is standing right behind her.

This sweet picture looks like every other picture we take of ourselves at Cubs games. Which is why it's still sweet.

• A couple of new restaurant reports, complete with food pics. First up was Blackbird, a gloriously pretentious hot spot from chef Paul Kahan, who was been nominated for a James Beard Award (basically the food Oscars) back in 2007 and just opened the much talked about upscale pork palace, The Publican. Blackbird didn't disappoint, although it wasn't life altering either. My endive salad was to 'dive' for (oh my God that was terrible) and my drink, the Blackbird Orange, was like something you see in Esquire, and afterwards made me look like this. Katy got the pork belly and I went with the sturgeon. The service was very friendly and the food was solid, although I have a feeling I'd enjoy the communal dining tables and craft beers at The Publican a little better.
  

Pork Belly all up in my belly.

• On our way back from Old Orchard mall the other weekend we made a point to stop at Wholly Frijoles, a BYOB Mexican joint in Lincolnwood that we had first seen on our favorite show, Check Please, way back in the day. Located in a strip mall, it doesn't look like much from the outside, but the food is definitely better than your standard Mexican fare, even if it's priced that way. Great little place with awesome chips and salsa, although the word must be out on this place, cause it gets busy fast. I opted for the breaded pork with chipolte mashed potatoes and much less famished Katy settled for a quesadilla. I did think that it was funny that even though we were less than 10 miles from our place you could still totally tell that we were in the burbs. Perhaps it was the predominance of the windbreakers with shorts or dudes with slicked back hair and floral shirts, but we certainly weren't in our horned rim glasses and skinny jeans comfort zone.

The tenderloin's snooty cousin. He thinks he's better than you and frankly, he's probably right.

More posts coming up next week, including chronicling a visit from Cody and his whippersnapper of a boy, Milo. In the meantime, you should probably go see The Hangover, so long as you don't mind peeing your pants. (Which I don't.) Also, 500 Days of Summer was awesome, but that one isn't out until July 17th, so you're just gonna have to calm down and wait for that one. Eat your pork and bide your time.

Hazy Recollections of Mini Fist

A couple of weekends ago, a bunch of the Thunder Matt's Saloon crew got together in Wrigleyville in the hopes of taking in a Cubs-Astros matinee. This event was dubbed 'Mini-Fist'. (Verne Troyer was nowhere to be found.) Alas, faster than you can say 'Lindsay Lohan is back in rehab', our hopes were dashed by a rather unforgiving rainstorm. So instead, we spent way too long...and by 'way too long' I mean like 5 hours, at Gingerman Tavern in Wrigleyville.

Discount pitchers of Pabst Blue Ribbon may sound like a good idea at the time, but trust me when I say that your liver will hold it against you for upwards of 24 hours. It took a while, but we're finally back on good terms. Like an abusive lover, it just can't quit me. We also ate at Wrigleyville Dogs. Need I remind you what happened the last time we set foot in that deep fried hell?

This is a family-friendly blog, so I'll leave out the sorted details and instead just post this innocent picture taken sometime during Hour 2 of 5.

*On a totally unrelated note, check out my reviews on Thunder Matt's Saloon of "Drag Me to Hell" and "Up". Two very different films, both worth your coin.

"Wow, this PBR is really going down good. We should order another pitcher!"

Kiss My Astra

The 2008 Saturn Astra. Official car of The Handfelt Happy Hour. Purchased last Saturday, May 16th. All pricing and negotiating done via email beforehand. No annoying phone calls or pushy salesmen. God bless technology.

An underrated gem from the beleaguered GM line, this is a 2-door hatchback, heated leather seats, upgraded stereo system, fold down seats in the back, power everything, rain sensing windshield wipers, a relatively roomy back seat, 25mpg city/32 highway and German engineering that help the car handle like a champ and feel much heavier and solid than some of it's brethren. The photos are great but they don't really do it justice until you see it in person.

Katy will be driving this bad boy to and from work every day and since she insists on naming all of our cars and this one is cherry red, it came down to Chandler Bing or Bing Crosby. Chandler had a better ring to it than Crosby (David? Take a shower hippie!), so Chandler it is. Better than Joey Tribbiani I suppose.

Things We Like: Zach Galifianakis

Between Two Ferns With Zach Galifianakis from Between Two Ferns

I like my humor dry, bearded and pretentious. (Which is also how I liked my women back in college.) Get ready folks, cause this cat is gonna blow up like Frankie Muniz come June 5th with the release of the inevitably quotable, "oh my God you have to see this" film of the summer, The Hangover. Pretty soon he'll be like Vince Vaughn, all bloated and full of himself, making bad decisions and starring in horrible family comedies alongside Tim Allen and Ice Cube. If that's the case, let the record show we liked him way before he starts to suck.

We saw him perform at The Vic a few years back. What a riot that was. At one point I was laughing so hard I wanted to rip my seat off it's hinges and throw it through a window. I was having some other emotional issues at the time that may have played into that, but that's neither here nor there.

They were selling t-shirts in the lobby after the show that had a drawing of Zach's face with the word 'Pretentious' underneath. I was flush out of cash (Damn you $6 concert beers!) and Katy refused to let me spend our grocery money on such trivial pursuits. To this day, I still remind her of that time she cock-blocked my pursuit of happiness, although I don't think it really phases her one bit. She says that I already give off a vibe that says 'pretentious' and I don't need a t-shirt to reaffirm it.

Good zing Katy! Right out the Zach G playbook! Now watch that clip above. This is a different episode of "Between Two Ferns" than I posted before.

*Also, we'd like to send a shout out to fellow bloggers (check the sidebar) The Clarks, who welcomed Cale Robert Clark into the blogosphere (and world at large), and Nick of The Eternal Stench, who is getting hitched this weekend to a women who is surely out of his league.

American Idol gets KISSed

Oh the flamboyance! The leather! The hair! The flames! And I haven't even mentioned KISS yet. The biggest, cheesiest, greatest band in the world on the biggest, cheesiest...show in the world. They go together like peanut butter and jelly or clown paint and platform shoes.

I'm told this Adam kid should have probably won and judging by his pipes, I won't argue. But I could have told him that performing with the hottest band in the world would have cost him the liberal elite vote, as well as the Christian right. Balls to the wall Lambert. I like your style.

Handfelt Hodgepodge

For the most part, it's been all quiet on the Handfelt front of late. It's been a while since we posted anything (Katy is holding out for more money and Carmella is just plain difficult), so I figured I'd do a sort of a random cornucopia of Handfelt facts, tidbits and musings. After all, our readers demand pictures of food (those requests are second only to requests of 'no more shirtless pictures of Ben' ) to go along with all of the sorted details of our jet-setting lives. You say that there's a difference between jet-setting and falling asleep on the couch at 9:30pm on a weekend, exhausted from a wild Friday night (ahem, evening) of grocery shopping? Tomato/Tomahto.

Alright, here we go. Don't get your hopes up, as none of these ramblings fall under the traditional definition of 'entertaining' or 'worthwhile'.

-The Bulls-Celtics playoff series took a solid 3.5 years off my life. My goal of living til I'm 100, only to die in shark-filled waters may have to be adjusted slightly. What a series that was though. I soiled numerous pairs of underwear, so much so that I just took to wearing a diaper around the house. For effect, I also bought a rattle and a bum bum. Needless to say, I cried like a baby after Game 7. Such is life. I'm a fan of the Cubs, Bears and Arizona Cardinals. That kind of fandom steels you for disappointment like this.

-My new obsession is cool, old black & white photo booths. Not the dorky kind they have at the mall where it's one photo with a cheesy 'Cupid's Buddies!' border around it (although don't get me wrong, I think we have one of those around here somewhere), but the old school B&W strips of four. I found a cool website that lists all of the photobooths by geographical area and even does write-ups and reviews on the various photobooths found at bars across the country.

In the picture above, the strip on the right was from Spring of 07' at Schubas. The one on the left is from a couple of weeks ago at Holiday Club, a bar we proceeded to use just for their photobooth and then leave immediately after Katy astutely noticed that it "smelled like throw up and Windex." That accounts for Katy plugging her nose in the first picture. Odd that even though these were taken two years apart, the poses are very similar. That's either uncanny or uncreative, although I'll also accept 'a miracle'.

-I was officially promoted at work about a month or so ago. I am officially a Senior Publicist (or as I call myself, "King Shit") and in these times of job uncertainty, I certainly don't take that for granted. My goal of creating a Daley-esque Chicago PR dynasty, minus the corruption, is well underway. I just have to master the Chicago accent without sounding like a fool. Not as easy it may sound, given my penchant for foolishness.

-Katy is getting pretty busy at her work as well. Her boss is getting ready for her maternity leave, so the onus is falling on Mrs. Handfelt. Though she'd never admit as much herself, she's really stepping up her game, kicking some ass and politely taking names. I'm extremely proud of her, and seeing how far she's come professionally over the past year is really quite impressive. She was also accepted into her grad program and is getting a bit nervous about going back into student mode. To help ease her nerves, I bought a keg of beer, which I keep in the living room at all times, just in case she gets the impromptu urge to do a keg stand. I also yell, 'Chug, chug, chug' every time she drinks water, which she doesn't seem to think is as funny as I do for some reason.

-We ate at Tanoshii Sushi last Friday, which was the site of some of our New Year's Eve debauchery. This time things were kept in check and my Hefner blazer was kept in the closet. The food was awesome. I got the one of the Sushi Mike Special rolls - you tell him what you like, he makes it - called the Italian Roll (olive oil infused with spices is poured on top of the maki roll) along with the must-have appetizer, 'fish and chips', which is sushi grade fatty tuna mixed with avocado, onions, roe and lemon juice served on top of fried puff pastry chips, prepared table side. Chip and salsa, you've finally met your maker. Plus the place is BYOB, a trend that every city should investigate.

-Saw both Tyson and Wolverine sans the wife. Tyson was pretty riveting, if admittedly one-sided, since it only tells the story from Iron Mike's perspective. Regardless, there's a lot to like here, and Tyson comes off as flawed to be sure, but surprisingly self-aware and intelligent. For the sake of a lame analogy, I give it a TKO. Not quite a knockout (they gloss over the substance abuse and rape charge), but worth your while, especially if you're considering a face tattoo like I am. Wolverine was exactly what you'd expect. A testosterone-laden comic film that lacks the depth of The Dark Knight and the wit of Iron Man, but is a passable popcorn flick as long as you go in with your expectations in check. Combine those two movies ('Tyson vs. Wolverine') and now you've got yourself a movie.

-We're still considering buying a car, although our allegiances have shifted and we are now considering some models that weren't in the running a few weeks ago. It will come down to the wire, and not to tip our hand, but it looks like the two finalists rhyme with Perrari and Shmamshmorgini. It's all about economy and practicality, and not "pulling tail" as most reputable car dealers would lead you to believe. Recommendations are welcome from our readers, although Hummer jokes are frowned upon.

-We walked down to Wrigleyville last weekend and bought a couple of new Cubs t-shirts. My pleas for matching tank tops fell on deaf ears. I give the new krausened Old Style a big thumbs up. Seriously, I know it's Old Style, but it's good. Good for you too, or so I'm told. We ate at Lucky Sandwich Shop and apparently every single sandwich there is served with fries and coleslaw...on the sandwich. While not terrible tasting, this seems to be wholly unnecessary and confusing to dim patrons such as myself.

-Lots of my esoteric ramblings can be read over at Thunder Matt's Saloon. For sports fans, particularly Cubs fans, this site is a must read. Hmmm...maybe I wouldn't go as far as to say must, but should. How about could? Yeah, it's a could read. Does that make sense? Let's just put it this way: if you have the site saved to your favorites even though you've only visited it like once (that time I emailed everyone about it years ago), well there's no use in deleting it now is there? If you accidentally click on it when trying scroll down to Facebook, all the better.

-Speaking of Facebook, I've really slowed up on the updates (although I still check it every day) and I refuse to Twitter/Tweet. The details of this blog are mundane enough and it's only updated like once a week. I can't imagine that anyone would interested in the minutia of my daily existence. If anything, it would just expose me as a fraud and topple my well-crafted Pretentious Bastard persona. Nothing wrecks street cred like letting people know that you spent your Saturday night drinking sugar-free Margaritas, watching Lost and constantly checking your fantasy baseball team on your blackberry. Whoops! I think I just Tweeted.

Pork dumplings, miso soup and 'fish and chips' at Tanoshii. Heard but not seen: 'Maggie May'-era Rod Stewart playing in the background.