It’s getting cold. The CTA is slow. The Bears stink. Bet you have a lot to complain about, huh?

That’s the idea behind the Chicago Complaints Choir, a group of locals who sent in their gripes and wrote an 8-10 minute song about their problems with the help of Finnish artists Tellervo Kalleinen and Oliver Kochta-Kalleinen. The duo has organized choirs around the world for the last two years, and Chicago’s choir--comprised of about 50 people, who did not need to prove their vocal abilities before joining--is the first official complaints choir in the U.S. (Unofficial choirs have been organized in Alaska and at Penn State University without Kalleinen and Kochta-Kalleinen.)

It’s too late for you to join in on the grousing, but you can catch the choir for free at 1 and 3 p.m. Saturday at the MCA, and for $5 at 8 p.m. at Empty Bottle. The group will also travel around the city from 3-7 p.m. Sunday, stopping to perform in various neighborhoods and other specific spots, including a scheduled stop at 4 p.m. in Millennium Park.

Want to create your own choir or see where else people are complaining? Check out http://www.complaintschoir.org/. What would you most want to complain about in the form of song?

Well look at that! Our photographer was out on assignment Monday night at Minibar | Winebar, and who did he run into but former ’N Sync-er Lance Bass—hangin’ with Miss Foozie! According to Bass’ Web site, the singer is on a book signing tour, and he was scheduled to have been at the Lakeview Borders at Clark and Diversey earlier that night.

We got a bit more action that we bargained for while celebrating Halloween at Durty Nellie’s in downtown Palatine on Saturday. Decked-out suburbanites packed the place to rock out with '80s cover band Hairbangers Ball, and a dude dressed as ornery assistant regional manager Dwight Schrute from “The Office” won the costume contest, scoring a trip to Mexico. The real award-winning comedy of the night, though, was an altercation that broke out near the main floor bar and made its way out to the parking lot: Two Fred Flintstones sporting huge fake feet took on a bevy of bouncers, while unruly Wilmas in ratty orange wigs screaming on the sidelines. Club-bearing baby Bamm-Bamm Rubble, though, was ironically no where to be found.

It's a recipe for high drama: One Cuban revolution, one aristocratic senora, one young Cuban cook who vows to care for her employer's house on the eve of Fidel's march into Havana. One passionate, politically minded husband who imagines a greater life for his countrymen. Stir gently. No, put on the lid and shake.

All of the ingredients are there. But this staging of Eduardo Machado's drama, "The Cook," at the Goodman Theatre, directed by Henry Godinez, falls flat on timing and pacing.

Sure, the ingredients are good: The story tackles issues of class struggle, national identity, political turbulence and gender and sexual equality. There are touching, personal moments too, most notably when Gladys (Karen Aldridge) faces the cold reality of what it means for her cousin Julio (Phillip James Brannon) to be gay in Fidel's Cuba. Carlos (Edward F. Torres), the would-be patriarch of Gladys' home, is the most transformed of the central characters, moving from playfully subversive servant to arrogant, nasty government appointee to a somewhat comical old man who cries--not from the weight of history--but from dicing too many onions for his wife.

The set is colorful and bold (and arguably difficult to navigate): a long kitchen table takes center stage for the duration of the play. The set dressing and actors age well throughout the story with professional touches (copper pots dull as we move through the decades), but the drama hiccups and spurts, and pacing and staging are awkward. Ultimately, these timing troubles dampen the storytelling (odd because the notion of time is central to the plot). Our verdict: This "Cook" needs a bit more seasoning.