“Wanna go to happy hour?”
Translation: It’s winter in Chicago and it’s dark by 5pm. What the hell else do I have to look forward to on a Wednesday? Mike & Molly?
“We had an awesome dinner at this cool new place in the West Loop.”
Translation: We just waited over two hours for a table and spent so much cash I nearly cried. But at least I got a poorly lit Instagram out of it.
“I live in Wrigleyville.”
Translation: I just moved here.
“I was at the first Lollapalooza... before all these kids ruined it.”
Translation: I am an old curmudgeon and desperate to cling on to any sort of semblance of edge, even though I just drove in from Winnetka in my Mini Cooper.
“Can we eat at a table outside?”
Translation: It’s the first sunny day in weeks, so it must be spring-drinking weather. Even though it’s 30 out.