If you’re from the Chicagoland-area, you’re familiar with the term “The Region” used to refer to anyone that isn’t from Chicago proper. Specifically, those of us from Northwest Indiana. I hate saying that I’m from The Region because it makes me feel like a townie and really? Who wants to be a townie?

So, I’m from Chicago. And that’s where I visited last weekend.

If you’re in Chicago, you’re kind of obligated to eat at Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinder Co. Best pizza in the city. Guaranteed. So good, in fact, that I had my wedding reception there and even now that I’m divorced I’d still shank someone for a pizza pot pie.

(And if you’re in Austin, you’re kind of obligated to eat at hopdoddy Burger Bar.)

Not pictured: Garrett’s Popcorn and Lincoln’s Bunny Girl. I need some veggies, stat.

My partners in crime as we ate our way through Chicago. Jenn, Toni, Julie, and Michelle. Bitches gotta eat.

Whenever I’m home, I always end up in the basement rummaging through old photos. If these snaps don’t sum up my fashion philosophy, I don’t know what does.

And what trip home is complete without a trip to see grandma, babies in beer goggles, and a wicked game of foursquare?

Quality time was spent with Mister Floyd (aka “The Original Gangsta” per my sister) and I may have Skyped with Ollie who spent the weekend back in Austin. What? I missed him.

Visiting home is exhausting.