Blob Monster

It could because he’s so bad-​ass, it could be because it was my grade school nickname, it could be because I’ve tried to climb it a few dozen times and have what appears to be fiberglass shards embedded in my fingertips, but I really feel akin to the West Loop’s Blob Monster.
I stumbled (pretty literally) upon BM (Not Bill Murray) very late one night (after the 4am Mexican Karaōke bar had closed) in 2011 when I was sort of lost, but not willing to admit it, while looking for the OTHER Big Monster that lives in the area.
I love BM (Not poop, though I do have love for the doo) because it’s a true hidden gem and embodiment of local flavor. Down a shallow dead end of Noble, tucked out of site from even the corner of the nearest intersection lives the Blobby Monster, or Bloberto, as I like to call him. He’s big, he’s bad and if you climb or try to climb him, he’s sure to scratch the sh*t out of you as he’s now worn down from Chicago’s not-​so-​mild winter. He used to be bright and obviously multi-​colored, but now he’s a bit faded and leaning more towards a bunch shades of mauve and other puke-​y colors… but I still gots love.
Tonight I got closer to mounting this beast than I ever have before… even got high up enough to sit in mouth (while in a dress and heeled boots, no less). I just wish I’d had a mini flag to stake somewhere on olé blobb-​y so those who mount post-​Candi will know it’s just a sloppy seconds situation, but it is my honor to be the first to review Señor Blob-​O and let other know where this lad lives.