In a fit of irony, I just accidentally spilled coffee all over my unused coffee filters as I was pouring myself a cup. It is really a fascinating little tale. I will use it to entertain monarchs and presidents and pick up chicks.

Yesterday was excellente. I hadn't been to the Taste of Chicago in years. Sally had a friend in town and it was a great excuse to get down to Grant Park, pig out for an hour, and then head over to Navy Pier.

Navy Pier, as always, is a giant suckfest of cheesy, touristy, family fun. For those reasons and more I will hate it til my dying day. Unfortunately, Navy Pier, being the 'midwest's premiere tourist attraction,' is flush with cash and jobs for the enterprising young Chicagoan. I've worked there twice.

The last time I worked there was as a waiter at a Forrest Gump themed seafood restaurant called Bubba Gump's. That lasted about two weeks. In one of my least noble moments, I quit by simply, silently walking out the door at the beginning of my double shift. Trust me, they were screwing me over anyway. Also, that summer, for whatever reason, there was a huge glut of Irish who had moved to Chicago to work. As I walked away, they were training about fifty of them on the outdoor patio, addressing the group through a megaphone. It wasn't going to be hard for them to replace me. "Let Colm, Liam, Siobhan or Colleen work their arses off for ten percent tips from these cheap bastards from the suburbs," thought I. That was three years ago, and I'll never be proud of the way I quit, but I'm so glad I did. When we walked by yesterday, I actually spotted the girl who trained me. Three years at Bubba Gumps? I would have impaled myself on a lobster tail.

My other Navy Pier job was by far superior. During the Christmas season, Navy Pier likes to do things that are, well, Christmas-y. During some kind of brainstorming session, I guess the Pier execs made some kind of logical association that went: "Christmas, eh? Hmm. Santa Claus. Cold...North Pole! Hmm, North Pole, North Pole...Ah! Penguins!"

Thusly, Perry the Penguin was born, and I was destined to infuse him with life.

Yes, I Was A Six Foot Walking Penguin. At the beginning of my eight hour shift, I would don the penguin suit. Giant yellow flappers to strap over my shoes. A huge one-piece body suit. Penguin mittens tucked into my sleeves. And, finally, a truly gigantic papier machete head with mesh eyes to provide the precious gift of human-penguin sight.

I'd scan and post the picture of me standing in the dressing room, wearing only my boxer shorts and the penguin head, but my mom has it. Feel free to let your imagination soar. Boxer shorts and penguin head. Anyone getting excited?

So, as Perry, my job was to wander the Pier and pose for pictures. I did so accompanied by a guy who had the much less glamorous job of being my Protector. He would be dressed in an outfit resembling that of a British police officer of old, a 'Bobby' I think they were called, only his outfit was red as opposed to their blue.

This is all starting to sound like a really strange dream, isn't it?

It was almost like a dream come true that for this penguin play I was paid $12.50 an hour. I actually really, really enjoyed being Perry the Penguin. For the type of "work," the pay was really excellent. I didn't have to talk. Responsibilities: Walk around. Wave. Pose for pictures. More walking. Absorb the unconditional love of children who hugged Perry and told him they loved him. Walk. Wave. Finally, it became a Perry the Penguin sporting event to find the most attractive women and hug them. Lovingly. Very lovingly. When you're approached by a man-sized cute and fuzzy penguin with it's arms outstretched, you don't say no.

Only once did this policy backfire. We walked into the Pier Barnes & Noble, as occasionally we would visit the stores on the Pier just to break up the monotony of wandering the arcades. I instantly spotted the cute punk chick behind the counter and approached her in my silent penguin way. I was met with icy glares from her and a wank-boy clerk running the shop with her. Undeterred, I picked up one of those small impulse books on the counter. It was titled 'Love.' I held up the book so she could see it. I pointed at my penguin chest. I pointed at the book. I pointed at her. She silently shook her head, frowning. After a few minutes of this, something in wank-boy snapped. He began yelling at us, using a steady stream of foul language to drive us from the store. Thinking it was quite unbecoming to have children witness Perry the Penguin being colorfully cursed, we made our exit. At the end of our shift, we were informed that penguin and company were hereby officially banned from Barnes & Noble at their request. It was the only rejection of beautiful penguin love we experienced.

The only bad part was the smart aleck kids who, perhaps inevitably, wondered if Penguins had genitalia, and by way of testing the idea, experimentally punched me in the gut. Fortunately, when parents see a giant penguin push their kid to the ground, it looks more playful than harmful. Besides, the Protector was always nearby to diffuse the situation.

I would play Perry the Penguin again in a second.

Especially now, when my job situation shows no hope of improving. No temp work to be had. I'm this close to becoming a goddamn dog walker, for fuck's sake.

Like I said, yesterday was a great day. Taste of Chicago, walking on the lake (albeit at the Pier), and finally, we walked by a movie theater and took in A.I. on a whim. It was painful to part with Sally at the end of the day. It's starting to feel like it makes less and less sense that we don't live together. After spending that day with her, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world that we would go home, get into bed, and read together until we fell asleep. It was not to be, but it felt like it should have been.

On the agenda for tonight: Grilling. For two days, I've had two large chicken breasts marinating in a mesquite-lime sauce. Also in the marinade: chopped green apple, cherries, crushed garlic, honey, brown sugar, and crushed red pepper. If I'm not rendered insane by the tastiness of it all, I shall be back tomorrow to report on the yummy goodness.

Oh, and keep your fingers crossed for both Sally and I regarding the Nickelodeon fellowship. Apparently, the notification date was 'subject to change,' so now June has come and gone and no one knows anything. Bastards.