QUOTES FROM HALCYON

So at Halcyon, there’s some guy in a fake tuxedo t-shirt sitting near me. The girls on either side of him yell instead of talk, and they’re all dressed up in skirts and heels.

First they’re talking about where to get sushi, and I can tell they’re picky eaters. One won’t eat tuna, one won’t eat anything raw, one only orders a certain sushi roll... Boring!

Later on, I hear the tuxedo guy say, “When there’s bottles flowing at Pangaea, I’m not drinking.”

One of the girls shrieks about the bank account her parents still feed money into: “My dad’s like ‘$200 at Nordstroms!?,’ and I’m like, ‘Dad, I have to buy some things.’”

A SPECIFIC SOUTHBY ENCOUNTER

After I get off work at 4:00pm, I want a margarita. Music week is just beginning, so we stroll the streets rather than racing from one event to another (which we’ll be doing for the next few days).

“The one and only” Matt Smith finds a listing online for free margaritas and appetizers very near on West 6th, so we go.

We arrive at Ranch 616, and a waitress with glazed eyes greets us saying, “Are you here for the Kitchen sisters?” We say yes. “Let me get you some margaritas,” she replies.

The patio holds no more than 40 people, and none of them are under the age of 50. We take the only open table, and the cracked out waitress floats over and plants frozen mango margaritas in front of us after calling us “two beauties.”

Soon plates of food start floating around-- shrimp shish kabobs, grilled goat meat, feta taquitos, fried oysters... Pretty much heaven. We ravage the platters every time they come by, grabbing sloppy handfuls of free goodness.

A few people our age show up and ask to join our table since everyone else looks like our grandparents. We inhale margaritas and almost get kicked out because one of our new friends is belligerent.

We never have less than two drinks in front of us, and after we leave, none of our friends can catch up with our level of drunk at 7:00pm.

Miss you, SXSW.

SXSCOTTISHFOLD

SXSW IS THE NEW CHRISTMAS

If you are over the age of 21 and live in Austin, you have probably experienced the magic of SXSW. Hoards of celebrities and out-of-towners always make things more interesting, and the endless party options make for epic mistakes. Free music, free food, free booze everywhere. It’s the cheapest, drunkest week of the year.

I had free BBQ at Latitude one day. Free Lonestar at Emo’s Annex for breakfast. Free Vodka and tea at the highly destructive Pure Volume. Free quesadillas and whiskey at the Parish. Free SoCo at Fader Fort. Free Mellow Mushroom pizza, cookies, Svedka, and Sullivan’s steak (!@#sfhb) at a poolside party. Not to mention bands were playing the entire time (even if they were fake Matchbox 20).

Now I’m offended when I go out. I order something, and I’m like, “This drink is how much? Three dollars? Who do you think you are?” I feel like holding up my arm covered in crappy paper wristbands and glaring at them like, “Don’t these mean anything to you?” Now I’m appalled when the bartender won’t give me two cups filled to the rim with vodka. I’m like, “What’s the problem? Oh, what? There are rules here all of a sudden?”

I have been badly spoiled. But now the gift giving is over, and I sit sour-faced and disdainful of prices and fees.

TERRORIST FLIES

I've never claimed to know a lot about flies, but something strange has been going on. The same two flies have been terrorizing me for the past few days.

When I try to read or write, they perch nearby and stare at me. They always try to land on me when I’m getting read for work. They basically try to spoon with me when I go to sleep, but they don’t want to cuddle with me-- they just want to rub their fly bodies all over me for their own strange enjoyment. Also, one of them growled at me.

Since the person I’m dating seems to be in cahoots with the flies, I called in Courtney. She is a professional fly killer. When she worked in the kitchen at a camp one summer, she killed 500 flies.

She has annihilated two flies in one swat and has even taken out a fly with a hammer. Anything in her hand is a lethal weapon for flies, and I swear, flies from all over the world tremble when her name is mentioned.

Not these bastards. These flies were confident. When Court came at them, they started dive-bombing her, but she got them. She hit one so hard that it got stuck in a hole of the fly swatter.

Don't come around here, flies. Courtney will be waiting.

THE HILL

ITALIAN LUGGAGE CARRIERS

When our train arrived in Prague, we took a cab to the Castle Steps Hotel. The cab got in a minor wreck on the way there and let us out a few blocks from our destination. Those few blocks happened to be up a steep hill on a bumpy cobblestone street.

We groaned about how heavy our bags were and talked about how in Italy, a group of pretty girls would never have to carry their luggage. Right on cue, a tall, handsome guy with a Euro mullet snatches my suitcase from my hands and says, “Hello. What’s your name?”

He was part of an Italian soccer team, and within seconds, we were surrounded by a flock of jersey-wearing men, and no one was carrying their own bag anymore.

KONTROLL

A MEAL IN BUDAPEST

When we were staying in a fancy hotel on the main street, Vaci Utca, we would walk down into the grungy subway station in the morning and buy croissants from a dimly lit stand called Princess.

Breakfast for 5 for a couple bucks.

PRAYER TO CHILI'S

Dear Chili's,

Please bless us with an awesome blossom and prepare our hearts for electric lemonades.

Amen.

SUNDAY MORNING

Wake up; Regret drinking obscene amount of jug wine
Check Missed Connections on Craigslist just in case
Finish remaining vanilla soy milk
Make sure pet tarantula is still alive
Feed crickets to feed to tarantula
Clear massive pile of clothes on my bedroom floor
Do about 15 crunches; Lay on ground
Eat leftover breakfast taco
Scavenge for unwanted food belonging to roommates
Briefly contemplate going to Kite Festival
Cut hair a little
Do some ballet to "Pussy Got Ya Hooked;" Pull muscle in leg
Take even-longer-than-usual shower
Read poetry for meeting; Attempt to write paper
Somehow manage to burn chunky chicken noodle soup

TOO HOT

TALL TALES

When I was a kid, I would yell when I saw a daddy long legs or a cockroach. My dad would come in the room and say, “What are you screaming about? That little bug? Where I grew up in Colombia, those were THIS big.”

He would hold his hands four feet apart, and I would envision a dog-sized daddy long legs creeping on my ceiling and a kitten-eating cockroach under my bed.

Over time I convinced myself that those colossal creatures didn’t exist. I laughed at my dad and his tall tales. For a short, naïve while I wasn’t even afraid of bugs.

When I was in high school, the Discovery Channel ruined my life with their 2-hour special on siafu ants. Texas fire ants sucked enough. Now I would have to think about endless chains of big ants destroying everything in their path from trees to people.

Recently I decided that I shouldn’t be afraid of siafu ants. I’m not planning on visiting Africa or tropical Asia anytime too soon, so they can’t tear me to shreds yet...

Then I was informed of something even worse-- the bullet ant. Of course they’re bigger than siafu ants. When they sting you, it feels like you’ve been shot, and the pain lasts for 24 hours.

Guess where they live? Colombia. My dad is taking my family there in 5 months, and I’ll probably get stung in the eye by a bullet ant for ever doubting his stories.

STALKED BY MEATLOAF

It all started with some meatloaf muffins at Wheatsville. Sounds gross, right? They looked disgusting. Even an old lady next to me agreed, and I thought old ladies worshiped meatloaf.

Then I started noticing meatloaf on menus here or there... No reason to panic.

There was stuffed meatloaf on the menu at Freddie's Place, and I'm thinking "Okay meatloaf, you're taking it a little far now."

Yesterday when I went to lunch with my sister, the only special was meatloaf. I like to think I'm frugal, so I usually go for specials. The prices on all the other menu items were absurd, but I didn't want to let meatloaf win.

Today I was at work, and the TV was blaring some show on meatloaf. I was hungover and the adjectives being used made me want to vom.

I'm thinking, "Damnit, meatloaf, what do you want from me? Why are you following me? I used to have neutral feelings for you. I've even defended you when others said you were vile. Now you're really pushing your luck."

If I find a chuck of meatloaf sitting on my bed later, I'm going to punch it in the face.

RUNNING WITH A BUTTERFLY

Today I went for a run. It was sunny out. I was glad I wasn't working. I had a good Siouxie and the Banshees song on my iPod.

All of a sudden a butterfly flies up alongside me and flutters next to me as I run. We had a pretty good stretch together before he flew off to meet his other friends or get some premium nectar or do whatever butterflies do.

Point is, I ran with a butterfly today.

YEAR OF THE BITCH

CLOUDS

Tonight a friend and I took a midnight walk with my twin so she could take pictures peering through people’s windows. We were like stalkers or peeping tom(etta)s.

When we looked up, we noticed that the clouds were racing at a strangely fast pace and they seemed as close as kites.

It reminded me of when Court and I hiked the Inca Trail. Day 3 of the journey, we climbed through the cloud forest. Stair by stair we pulled through white mist, and that night, we slept above the clouds.

"The clouds didn't look like cotton. They didn't even look like clouds." --Townes Van Zandt

TRUE LIFE: OCEANS

I work at a middle school now. We are asking the kids trivia questions in exchange for apple juice. No one can name the 7 continents or 5 oceans of the world.

When someone guesses, “The Mediterranean?” another kid says, “Isn’t that a rock?”

Episode 2. MTV’s True Life: No one in this school knows what the Mediterranean is.

I'M SORRY

I'm sorry I made you smell like fish.

I was just hungry, you know? I though I'd fry some salmon. I'm sorry I used all the butter while I was doing it.

Sorry I filled the house with smoke. Who knew fish skin burns?

I'm sorry my fish was half-undercooked and half burnt and I'm sorry I spilled most of the lemon pepper seasoning on it. I'm also sorry that I probably won't clean the frying pan.

I'll never cook again.

RECEIPT OF THE BEAST

On this sunny, fine day, I go to Fresh Plus to get a kombucha to curb my hunger during work. As I’m paying the cashier says, “Oh no!” I think my card is declined, but then he says, “Your total is the mark of the beast.”

I look at the receipt, and sure enough... $6.66. “We’re big into numerology here,” he jokes. “I hope nothing bad happens to you.”

He hands me the receipt, and I say thank you and ensure him that I’ll dispose of it immediately. “Yes,” he replies. “Burn it!”

Then I continue my day as an accomplice to the Antichrist.