The “LP Effect” has been found in all the way up Sheridan road in the big ten land of Northwestern.

One of our clients at the firm brought me up to Evanston for a short consulting job in the heart of the business district on Sherman Ave (equivocal to our Halsted). There is an awkward faux-Starbucks at the corner of Grove and Sherman that did not fulfill my mocha requirement for the day so I decided to investigate the Jamba Juice up the street. The big ten land of Northwestern’s campus is a prime breeding ground for TIT’s (Trixie’s in Traning). I placed an order for a Strawberries Wild and in came in two TITs, stressed after a long Pilates workout and needed some fruity rejuvenation.

Every day of the week as a feeling and Monday is no  different. Monday is a day of waking up at 8AM, taking a hot shower to shake  away the last feelings of your weekend hangover, getting a clean shave and  sporting your best blue (dark peri also acceptable) button down. Grab a cup of  coffee at the Starbucks at Armitage and Sheffield;  grab a copy of the Red Eye outside Armitage to read on your 10 minute commute  to Washington/Wells or Quincy.

The age of the helper Robot is upon us. Mindless automatons are here to help make our daily lives easier and more productive. The Roomba is a growing trend in home Robotics but can the Roomba ultimately replace the common village Trixie?

The Roomba will ultimately replace the Trixie as a companion to the bars. First, Roomba doesn’t need to be bought drinks when out at McGee’s. If Roomba were to get drunk it would be able to find its way home via sensing the home base station’s infrared broadcast. I welcome the day that I get to see a fleet of Roombas make their way from the bars on Lincoln Ave to the Store at Armitage and Halsted.  Also, I highly doubt that a Roomba will ever call you a jack ass, throw up on its cocktail dress and then call her sorority sister for a place to crash after a night out of Strawberry Margaritas at Twisted Lizard.

The Roomba doesn’t need to be bought business cards every time it changes owners. When a Trixie moves to a new PR or Marketing firm she will need replacement business cards ASAP. “Mary Beth Marie, PR, [your firm name here]” will need to be thrown out, burned or disposed of in some sort of other secret Trixie ritual when they move firms.

Starbucks is not a retirement for sustenance for the Roomba; No lattes, mochas, iced coffees are required on a daily basis. Unlike the Roomba the Trixie does not plug into any standard 120V American outlet socket. She will need to be taken to Chicago Bagel Authority on Sundays to meet with her sorority girlfriends to discuss last weeks Minutes and then parade around Armitage while buying an expensive handbag at Active Endeavors.

The Roombas basic linguistic skills are far easier to understand than the complicated codes and calls used by the common Trixie. The Roomba uses a simple combination of easily understandable “beeps” and “boops” to communicate when it’s cleaning mission is successful or when it needs charging. A Trixie will signal her completion of a shopping adventure by presenting you with a large, detailed array of receipts from her “cleaning” adventure on Armitage or maybe even a boutique in the Gold Coast/Rush Street.

I sat down to eat my Butterburger at Culver’s out in Buffalo Grove and a man and woman were talking about a friend who’s husband had just died. I didn’t start to really pay attention to the conversation until she mentioned a $4,000 purse. A Trixie who had completed the mating phase, and convinced Chad to move to the suburbs to enjoy a life of leisure and childbearing, had recently become a widow. Chad passed and left her with a nice amount of insurance money being that he was an insurance broker.

Trixie promptly began to spend the money and the following is a small portion of the list I overheard.

1. $4,000 purse
2. Remodeled the kitten for $80,000
3. Had a $25,000 pool installed
4. Given her personal masseuse enough money in tips that she bought herself a new set of boobs.

The freshmen are starting to pour into town.  The hallowed campus is starting to turn into a giant mash up of YUPs  (young urban professionals) and the pre-frosh who do not know how to handle their liquor.  

Last night, while walking down Sheffield from getting some bread at Dominick’s, a cab pulled eastbound onto Fullerton from Sheffield. A young, puking girl was having a blast spewing the liquid personification of her night out of the cab window. I noticed that the cab driver did not notice and speed off. I hope she got home safe and woke up only to realize how much of a mess she was last night.