Thursday, May 28, 2009
VAMPIRES MOSTLY
Last night I went to my friend Willie's house to watch Robo Vampires in the tiki lounge area of the warehouse he lives in.
Basically the movie's about some people trying to ship cocaine in coffins but the corpses react with the coke, becoming cracked out vampires that can only hop like bunnies for some reason.
I kept falling asleep during it, and the only thing weirder than the actual movie is random scenes of it viewed in half-sleep delirium state.
The next morning: woke up to rain & hail, went back to sleep. Woke an hour later to scorching sun.
Saw a vampire biking by-- not a robo cocaine one.
Court's on a plane to Italy. I ate prosciutto in her honor.
Basically the movie's about some people trying to ship cocaine in coffins but the corpses react with the coke, becoming cracked out vampires that can only hop like bunnies for some reason.
I kept falling asleep during it, and the only thing weirder than the actual movie is random scenes of it viewed in half-sleep delirium state.
The next morning: woke up to rain & hail, went back to sleep. Woke an hour later to scorching sun.
Saw a vampire biking by-- not a robo cocaine one.
Court's on a plane to Italy. I ate prosciutto in her honor.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
TALENT
Today was the talent show at the middle school where I work, and I'm still amazed that 2 of the 9 acts were the dance to stanky leg.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
SEGWAYS
I'm waiting on these three people at lunch. They're about in their late 20s and really laid back. They say it is one of the girls' birthdays, so I suggest they have a drink since the cocktails are awesome.
The guy says with a smirk, "I'm not sure if we should. We're going on a segway tour later."
I can't tell if he's serious or not. No one laughs, they just all smile, perhaps ashamedly.
So I say, "Aren't those things basically impossible to crash?"
He says, "Maybe so, but we probably shouldn't push our luck."
The guy says with a smirk, "I'm not sure if we should. We're going on a segway tour later."
I can't tell if he's serious or not. No one laughs, they just all smile, perhaps ashamedly.
So I say, "Aren't those things basically impossible to crash?"
He says, "Maybe so, but we probably shouldn't push our luck."
Sunday, April 26, 2009
FIXING THE ICE HOUSE
This fine afternoon I was eating leftover sushi on my front porch while my roommate and her girl read books. We were all startled when a brightly dressed hobo with a walking stick hollered at us: "Can I borrow a dollar?"
He seemed annoyed when my roommate and I told him we didn't have any money, and he felt he needed to justify his request. "My debit card stopped working." Disdainfully he added, "You really need to fix that ice house," in reference to the old igloo-like chiminea in our yard.
Our ice house is just fine, thank you.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
THINGS WE SAID TODAY
I'm talking to a lady sitting alone in the restaurant where I work. She gets a call and says, "Hmmm. 759-.... This number sounds familiar." She picks it up and when I return she says, "It was my ex-husband."
At the middle school, a group of kids come over to my board game table. I ask them what they're going to play, and they say they're going to LARP. I say, "how are you going to LARP inside? I thought that was an outside thing with costumes and fake weapons." One of the boys says, "We'll just talk like this...." (insert Shakespearean voice) "Will you be the eagle or the lion?"
At the middle school, a group of kids come over to my board game table. I ask them what they're going to play, and they say they're going to LARP. I say, "how are you going to LARP inside? I thought that was an outside thing with costumes and fake weapons." One of the boys says, "We'll just talk like this...." (insert Shakespearean voice) "Will you be the eagle or the lion?"
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
GOOD FRIDAY
Today we went to see the passion play in Milam Park, San Antonio.
Babies were hoisted on shoulders.
Some women covered their heads.
Others talked on cell phones.
All I could think of was the patients at Santa Rosa who, looking down from their hospital rooms, saw Jesus being beaten in the plaza while the crowd yelled "Matale, Matale."
A BRIEF TRIP HOME
Court and I come home for a day to find that my mom has installed a pull-up bar in the doorway of the guest bedroom. "This is how we're going to get ripped!" she says, but none of us can do a pull-up.
We go to see a re-enactment of the crucifixion downtown, and it ends up being hilarious. Afterward we debate if Jesus was wearing a wig, and I'm sure he was because his hair looked like it belonged to Farah Fawcett or a go-go dancer.
We agree that San Antonio never gets it right.
We eat at Mi Tierra. We go see the Danville retrospective exhibit at Blue Star. We look for shoes at Nordstrom Rack.
We have an Easter egg hunt, and in my eggs I find $18, a Cadbury egg, and a wind-up owl.
My mom cracks up and says, "At this funeral last week..." She tells us how the man next to her "sounded like a cartoon dog" when he sang the hymns, and she almost lost it during the service.
We go see a dinner play of the works of Shakespeare abridged into an hour and a half. The comedy trio drags me out of my chair to play Ophelia, and my family lets me hang out to dry. I embarrass myself.
We go to see a re-enactment of the crucifixion downtown, and it ends up being hilarious. Afterward we debate if Jesus was wearing a wig, and I'm sure he was because his hair looked like it belonged to Farah Fawcett or a go-go dancer.
We agree that San Antonio never gets it right.
We eat at Mi Tierra. We go see the Danville retrospective exhibit at Blue Star. We look for shoes at Nordstrom Rack.
We have an Easter egg hunt, and in my eggs I find $18, a Cadbury egg, and a wind-up owl.
My mom cracks up and says, "At this funeral last week..." She tells us how the man next to her "sounded like a cartoon dog" when he sang the hymns, and she almost lost it during the service.
We go see a dinner play of the works of Shakespeare abridged into an hour and a half. The comedy trio drags me out of my chair to play Ophelia, and my family lets me hang out to dry. I embarrass myself.
SURPRISE
When I was leaving my lunch shift, the stairwell to the parking garage smelled like fresh, tropical pineapple-- a confusing yet pleasant surprise.
At the middle school, we attempted to raffle off an absurdly huge chocolate bunny in a wicker basket. We called out numbers in vain, and by the time we announced a number someone could claim, one of the students had stolen the prize. I laughed about it in the back of the cafeteria as my boss preaches into a microphone, "Whoever took that bunny needs to give it back!"
At the middle school, we attempted to raffle off an absurdly huge chocolate bunny in a wicker basket. We called out numbers in vain, and by the time we announced a number someone could claim, one of the students had stolen the prize. I laughed about it in the back of the cafeteria as my boss preaches into a microphone, "Whoever took that bunny needs to give it back!"
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
FORTUNE COOKIE
Good work, good life, good love, good-bye oppression.
Sometimes fortune cookies can be so profound.
Friday, March 27, 2009
PICK-UP LINE: 3
I'm leaving work, and this dude in a jumpsuit is washing windows with a soapy rag attached to a long pole.
He says, "How you doin' today?"
I say, "Good. How are you?"
He replies, "You sure look good."
Ummm... You look good too?
He says, "How you doin' today?"
I say, "Good. How are you?"
He replies, "You sure look good."
Ummm... You look good too?
Thursday, March 26, 2009
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.’”
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.
“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.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
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.
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.
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