|(glasses, BonLook / blazer, AA / shirt, thrifted / pants, vintage from Suburban Secrets / bag, vintage / shoes, older style via Click on Southport)|
I don't know about you guys, but I consider 28 to be young enough to celebrate the occasions in which I act like a real adult. Yesterday I had to go to the state office to get my Illinois ID card, which involved entering a government building filled with government employees, which you fellow pretend adults know to be an experience not to be wished upon your worst enemy. After being made fun of for saying, "BLAM-O" when I handed over my very organized stack of paperwork, then asked if I "really wanted to wear those glasses" in my photo, I was handed my new ID, hot off the press with only the top half of my signature printed under my awkward looking mug. Mike was proud of me for braving it all and treated me to Superdawg, a little drive-in on the far North West side. I don't think they have the best hot dogs in the city like they claim, but, being a sucker for good looks, I think the atmosphere counts for a lot. And their malts are so thick you'll cut off the oxygen to your brain trying to suck it out of the straw, helping all of the child and drug abuse you just witnessed in the state office float out of your mind like a fine mist that's replaced by gritty chocolaty goodness and the feeling of being a kid again.