Airplanes are fantastic places to have wondrous, strange conversations. On a flight earlier this year, a very fun friend told me about her plan for a zombie apocalypse. I was a bit thrown because I realized I had no plan for such an event. My emergency training is limited to a blanket in my trunk in case I get stuck in a blizzard. The likelihood of that happening in central Texas is not high.
Weapons are generally useless on the undead and I'm not really good with sharp objects or explosives anyway. My choice in footwear typically prevents running swiftly or being at all nimble. I'll have Olive with me so quietly hiding is also out. I explained all of this to my friend and she looked concerned. Because she is hilariously honest, she politely informed me I would not be on her zombie apocalypse survival team. She did, however, suggest I pull together a group that would supplement my shortcomings (and one that would have me).
Cataloguing my skills along with my needs in a crisis has been an interesting process. I'm tough, luckily, and also capable. But, worrying can get the better of me and my patience runs thin. I can think quickly and creatively but my execution is nowhere near MacGyver. I can climb really well and I always sense which direction is North. I may briefly collapse into inconsolable tears. So, we've got some pros and some cons.
Comfort was the first thing that came to mind. I'm likely to die (fighting, mind you, but ultimately nonetheless). Big, strong arms around me are a must. These will have the added bonus of being multi-purpose (lifting heavy stuff, swatting away pickaxes, carrying my lifeless body to a raging bonfire and dance party, etc). If the arms come with a beard in which to hide my face, all the better.
Next, I'll need a COO. When stressed, I often just want to be told what to do by a smart person. In times of catastrophic death and destruction, intelligent direction in a kind tone of voice could really come in handy. This person will come equipped with maps, illumination, wet wipes, and a brilliant plan of action (and a Plan B). They will be so well prepared that I will effortlessly place my care into their capable hands. This is something I do not do easily so this person will need to be the most ass-kicking, name-taking individual around.
I will also need laughter. I've been known to wallow, giving undeserving people and situations attention and time, which is a big bummer and tends to have negative cyclical effect. There is one thing alone that prevents or stops this for me and it is good company. I wish I could say that I am able to cure myself of Bell Jar, but I'm just not. I rely on others for this and I do so without guilt or shame. Someone who cusses a lot and does interpretive dances with me at 3am would be great in this role.
If my Dad could come, that would also be really awesome. He is better than MacGyver. True story.
I am now accepting applications. While the responsibility quotient is high and the likelihood of survival is low, I can promise a memorable exodus if it comes to that. I can also promise my all because if there is one thing I'm not giving up easily, it is this beautiful life. Serious inquiries only, please.
Showing posts with label adventure. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adventure. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Instructions for ACLife
Originally written for the Fall 2014 Austin Locale ACL Edition.
What’s the best way to survive Austin City Limits Music Festival? Everyone has a recommended list of groceries to haul around, a survival kit of sorts. It always contains a sampling from the shelves of CVS spanning all manners of hygiene, first aide, feminine products, and skin care. I agree with all these lists, though aside from baby wipes you probably won't use any of it.
Here’s the truth of the matter: ACL, like life, depends more on what you do than what you bring. You will require a plan. Let’s begin.
First, assemble your team. You're going to need good people, the kind you can trust with your cash, your liquor stash, and your ride home. These folks must be musically coherent, obviously, but more importantly must have impeccable resilience, stamina, and good sense. You don't want to end up babysitting a weeping drunk or sitting outside the EMT tent twiddling your thumbs. Sharing memories with your BFFs is lovely, however, ain't nobody got time for divas, jerks, or wimps. Select only those you know you’ll still like on Monday morning.
Next up, logistics. Determine a meeting place outside the festival grounds (at least 1/4 mile or more). Use the time walking to Zilker Park to compare schedules, hydrate (intoxicate), and get to know each other. As the festival engulfs you in a loving embrace, you may find this is the last time you are able to meaningfully connect with these folks all day so use your walk wisely.
Also determine where to meet after the festival. I suggest the same place you left off to keep everything straight amid the dizzying mixture of THC, alcohol, people, and darkness. Make sure out-of-towners write down the address on paper. Your phone will be long dead by then so you'll have to rely on others, possibly even law enforcement, to find your way so be prepared.
We're getting close now. I can almost feel it. Eat something substantial before heading out into the bright, hot, musical sunshine; this is not the time to jump on the kale bandwagon. Slather on that SPF and chug a coconut water. If you have a living will, make sure your mom knows where it is.
Ducks in a row? Ok. Grab a map and off you go! It is nice (and safer) to have a comrade but there is no need to cling to the same ship all day. You're no barnacle. You're an insatiable, fearless music pirate out to claim your booty while swilling the whiskey you snuck in. Let music be your compass.
Devour your 3 days like you did the latest season of Orange is the New Black, entirely and unabashedly. Put your palms up and let the vibrations fuel you if you feel tired. Don't treat your fellow music devotees with disrespect. Stand awestruck at the talent that exists. Blow a kiss to the skyline of our pretty city. Make new friends. Follow your plan loosely...you never know what luck you may have or magic you may uncover.
At the end, however near death, if you feel euphoric, exhausted, and ready to buy your early-bird ticket for next year, you did it right. It isn’t what you had. It isn’t what you forgot or lost. It was what you did that made it good. And, much like in life, it was what you did that you’ll remember.
What’s the best way to survive Austin City Limits Music Festival? Everyone has a recommended list of groceries to haul around, a survival kit of sorts. It always contains a sampling from the shelves of CVS spanning all manners of hygiene, first aide, feminine products, and skin care. I agree with all these lists, though aside from baby wipes you probably won't use any of it.
Here’s the truth of the matter: ACL, like life, depends more on what you do than what you bring. You will require a plan. Let’s begin.
First, assemble your team. You're going to need good people, the kind you can trust with your cash, your liquor stash, and your ride home. These folks must be musically coherent, obviously, but more importantly must have impeccable resilience, stamina, and good sense. You don't want to end up babysitting a weeping drunk or sitting outside the EMT tent twiddling your thumbs. Sharing memories with your BFFs is lovely, however, ain't nobody got time for divas, jerks, or wimps. Select only those you know you’ll still like on Monday morning.
Next up, logistics. Determine a meeting place outside the festival grounds (at least 1/4 mile or more). Use the time walking to Zilker Park to compare schedules, hydrate (intoxicate), and get to know each other. As the festival engulfs you in a loving embrace, you may find this is the last time you are able to meaningfully connect with these folks all day so use your walk wisely.
Also determine where to meet after the festival. I suggest the same place you left off to keep everything straight amid the dizzying mixture of THC, alcohol, people, and darkness. Make sure out-of-towners write down the address on paper. Your phone will be long dead by then so you'll have to rely on others, possibly even law enforcement, to find your way so be prepared.
We're getting close now. I can almost feel it. Eat something substantial before heading out into the bright, hot, musical sunshine; this is not the time to jump on the kale bandwagon. Slather on that SPF and chug a coconut water. If you have a living will, make sure your mom knows where it is.
Ducks in a row? Ok. Grab a map and off you go! It is nice (and safer) to have a comrade but there is no need to cling to the same ship all day. You're no barnacle. You're an insatiable, fearless music pirate out to claim your booty while swilling the whiskey you snuck in. Let music be your compass.
Devour your 3 days like you did the latest season of Orange is the New Black, entirely and unabashedly. Put your palms up and let the vibrations fuel you if you feel tired. Don't treat your fellow music devotees with disrespect. Stand awestruck at the talent that exists. Blow a kiss to the skyline of our pretty city. Make new friends. Follow your plan loosely...you never know what luck you may have or magic you may uncover.
At the end, however near death, if you feel euphoric, exhausted, and ready to buy your early-bird ticket for next year, you did it right. It isn’t what you had. It isn’t what you forgot or lost. It was what you did that made it good. And, much like in life, it was what you did that you’ll remember.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Online Dating for the notbeige Vol 1
The next couple posts will be a series on my personal observations of online dating. My 3 month trial was both exhilarating and educational. And I got taken on a ton of amazing dates so I consider it a wild triumph. I've always loved dating, however unsuccessful I've been at it...the thrill of something new; the funny little games we play with each other; first kisses. It is the comedy and the grief of the human condition at its finest. Also, I was tired of my usual dates and felt compelled to release them to the wild to find more suitable mates.
I've never been very picky when it comes to dating luckily which can been verified by the long list of idiots, jerks, and losers I've allowed to waste my time. So, I considered myself an ideal candidate for online dating. I had low expectations and high hopes, just like everyone else who puts their mugshot online for all the world to criticize. Surely I'd meet someone that rides my same wave.
My initial reaction was one of fascination with how people portray themselves and how I am meant to interpret them. Dating profiles are an amazing wonder to behold. You are trying to connect with a complete stranger based on their synopsis of themselves which is undeniably bias. As the "shopper," I'm obligated to browse sleuth-like, sniffing out biases, omissions, and untruths. One doesn't read an online profile like one reads greeting cards, with an open heart and a genuine curiosity as to what lies inside if the front of the card strikes your fancy. No. Instead, you read them as one would read an invitation from a pharmaceutical company to go on an all-expenses paid cruise to the Seychelles; with suspicion and incertitude.
I'm not buying your "sense of humor" or your "kind heartedness." These things simply cannot be qualified in an online dating resume. In fact, I'm not even buying your photos at this point. So, let's stick to the facts and I'll be the judge if I find your sense of humor notable, ok?
It was also an incredible exercise in how I portray myself. On my profile I tried to omit bullshit like laid back and fun (terms that every single man on Planet Earth looks for in a woman according to Match.com). I mean, who would admit to being an uptight, boring fun-hater anyway? And you know those people are out there whether they admit to it publicly or not.
Instead, I tried to give real-life examples that would allow the reader to decide on their own if they liked the sound of me. I have a Shih Tzu. I stay up late. I went to college. If you are a quiet, conservative person who is fearful of dogs and hates live music, we're not going to get along and I assume you'll come to that conclusion naturally. And if not, I'll just ignore you. This isn't hard.
Also, I had expert input from one of my smartest female friends. The best part was that after her and I completed my profile and answered a few of those bogus personality questions, the site rather presumptuously indicated that I'm a disorganized junkie which I took as a compliment.
One curious observation was that people often try to mask their insecurities and flaws with snarky humor. I did get a laugh out of some of them but I could tell they probably wouldn't make for good conversation in real life and probably have small penises and huge egos. Moving on but thanks for adding a smile to my search, fellas. Clever writing is infinitely sexy...in my very unbiased opinion.
I've never been very picky when it comes to dating luckily which can been verified by the long list of idiots, jerks, and losers I've allowed to waste my time. So, I considered myself an ideal candidate for online dating. I had low expectations and high hopes, just like everyone else who puts their mugshot online for all the world to criticize. Surely I'd meet someone that rides my same wave.
My initial reaction was one of fascination with how people portray themselves and how I am meant to interpret them. Dating profiles are an amazing wonder to behold. You are trying to connect with a complete stranger based on their synopsis of themselves which is undeniably bias. As the "shopper," I'm obligated to browse sleuth-like, sniffing out biases, omissions, and untruths. One doesn't read an online profile like one reads greeting cards, with an open heart and a genuine curiosity as to what lies inside if the front of the card strikes your fancy. No. Instead, you read them as one would read an invitation from a pharmaceutical company to go on an all-expenses paid cruise to the Seychelles; with suspicion and incertitude.
I'm not buying your "sense of humor" or your "kind heartedness." These things simply cannot be qualified in an online dating resume. In fact, I'm not even buying your photos at this point. So, let's stick to the facts and I'll be the judge if I find your sense of humor notable, ok?
It was also an incredible exercise in how I portray myself. On my profile I tried to omit bullshit like laid back and fun (terms that every single man on Planet Earth looks for in a woman according to Match.com). I mean, who would admit to being an uptight, boring fun-hater anyway? And you know those people are out there whether they admit to it publicly or not.
Instead, I tried to give real-life examples that would allow the reader to decide on their own if they liked the sound of me. I have a Shih Tzu. I stay up late. I went to college. If you are a quiet, conservative person who is fearful of dogs and hates live music, we're not going to get along and I assume you'll come to that conclusion naturally. And if not, I'll just ignore you. This isn't hard.
One curious observation was that people often try to mask their insecurities and flaws with snarky humor. I did get a laugh out of some of them but I could tell they probably wouldn't make for good conversation in real life and probably have small penises and huge egos. Moving on but thanks for adding a smile to my search, fellas. Clever writing is infinitely sexy...in my very unbiased opinion.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Quality and Quantity
Enjoying SXSW is sort of like moving to a new city. I moved here almost 3 years ago and it has truly taken this long to get the hang of things and feel comfortable. The same principles apply to one of the biggest, most rowdy, most complicated music festivals and conferences in the world.
 |
| Alt J at Stubbs |
No, you don't just accept it...you embrace it with pride and congratulate yourself on being one of the survivors. Three years in and I've finally got both quantity and quality and easily the best SXSW memories to date.
Sunday, March 10
Ume
Cloud Nothings
Portugal. The Man
Azari & III
Zeale
Tuesday, March 12
Elle King
ZZ Ward
Divine Fits
Cirque du Soleil
Whoever was at Lucky Lounge
Wednesday, March 13
Cafe Tacvba
Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Alt J
Thursday, March 14
Capital Cities
The Sheepdogs
Fitz and The Tantrums
City and Colour
Friday, March 15
Clairy Brown & the Bangin' Rackettes
Doldrums
Austra
Toro Y Moi
Alt J
Some cool jazz band at the Camel House
Walk Off the Earth
Lissie
Savages
Youth Lagoon
Saturday, March 16
No
Some awesome gypsy violin band from Ireland
Kids These Days
Field Report
Hacienda
Some other bands at Outlaw Roadshow??
Neon Lion
Drop City Yacht Club
Small Black
Haim
Vampire Weekend
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Alcohol makes you smarter and more attractive?
I completed day one of this detox project with my wits still about me. I've received both positive and negative feedback but my favorite was a text message from a fellow booze connoisseur saying "I'm really disappointed in you." I'll abandon this healthy living bandwagon shortly, do not fear.
In the meantime, I've added some fun challenges to keep things interesting. Last night, I was invited to accompany some friends in a band (Horseshoes & Hand Grenades) to a show outside Austin. They were opening for The Damn Quails so the night had serious potential for fun and good tunes. I was reluctant to go at first though. I feel sleepy and hanging out with a bunch of rowdy male musicians for a solid 10 hours sounded a bit iffy.
But, I realized that detox isn't just of the body. If I am to really clean up this trailer I am going to need to make sure I'm not boring without the warm, snuggly cloak of inebriety. My only live musical experiences so far involved moderate to severe amounts of liquor and the occasional illegal drug, so much so that when I thought about it I realized that I rarely remember people I meet at shows and sometimes don't even remember the music very clearly. This is sad I've decided. So, I packed up my juice and met them for drinks before getting on the "tour bus."
To hang out with band members, one must be pretty independent. I don't know many of their friends yet and my phone died as soon as we got there. I was definitely on my own. At first I was shy. My inhibitions and insecurities were fully intact. I wondered if booze has really been a crutch for me and that I am as stupid and unoriginal as I believe some boozers to be. This prospect terrified me and I was determined to let the self I have come to know as "my"self enjoy the show and have fun with strangers without a drop of liquid courage, a shred of false bravado, or even another person to guide me.
Finally, I spotted someone with a Nebraska coozie so, much like the times I've found myself alone in cities around the globe, I put on a smile and perused the room making friends along the way. It was incredible. My mind was sharp allowing me to remember nearly everyone's name. I heard every note and remember which songs I have to download today. I stayed out until my usual 3am and slept until 11 but I feel great! Just food for thought...mostly since I'm not eating any other sort of food. Last night was a satisfying morsel.
In the meantime, I've added some fun challenges to keep things interesting. Last night, I was invited to accompany some friends in a band (Horseshoes & Hand Grenades) to a show outside Austin. They were opening for The Damn Quails so the night had serious potential for fun and good tunes. I was reluctant to go at first though. I feel sleepy and hanging out with a bunch of rowdy male musicians for a solid 10 hours sounded a bit iffy.
But, I realized that detox isn't just of the body. If I am to really clean up this trailer I am going to need to make sure I'm not boring without the warm, snuggly cloak of inebriety. My only live musical experiences so far involved moderate to severe amounts of liquor and the occasional illegal drug, so much so that when I thought about it I realized that I rarely remember people I meet at shows and sometimes don't even remember the music very clearly. This is sad I've decided. So, I packed up my juice and met them for drinks before getting on the "tour bus."
To hang out with band members, one must be pretty independent. I don't know many of their friends yet and my phone died as soon as we got there. I was definitely on my own. At first I was shy. My inhibitions and insecurities were fully intact. I wondered if booze has really been a crutch for me and that I am as stupid and unoriginal as I believe some boozers to be. This prospect terrified me and I was determined to let the self I have come to know as "my"self enjoy the show and have fun with strangers without a drop of liquid courage, a shred of false bravado, or even another person to guide me.
Finally, I spotted someone with a Nebraska coozie so, much like the times I've found myself alone in cities around the globe, I put on a smile and perused the room making friends along the way. It was incredible. My mind was sharp allowing me to remember nearly everyone's name. I heard every note and remember which songs I have to download today. I stayed out until my usual 3am and slept until 11 but I feel great! Just food for thought...mostly since I'm not eating any other sort of food. Last night was a satisfying morsel.
Friday, December 28, 2012
Day One: Prep
The detox program was delivered yesterday in 18 colorfully terrifying bottles. The realization that I am to have no booze, food, or fun for the next few days began to set in. Cashew milk, really? How do these healthy people do it? The instructions are simple: Don't consume anything except the specially prepared juices in a specific order and water with lemon. No problem for someone who gets normal amounts of sleep, water (without whiskey), exercise, and nutritious food. (I just had trouble spelling nutritious which is indicative of my familiarity with it.)
In preparation, I completed the following tasks:
- "Cleaned" out cookie and milk supply for breakfast
- Gave dog a bath (she'll be used as a stress ball over the next few days)
- Put clean sheets on bed
- Ate an inappropriate amount of pasta for lunch
- Ate an amazing, amazing dinner at a new Thai restaurant
- Ate a spicy chocolate cake ball
- Drank 3 bottles of wine
- Stayed up until 3:30am
Ok, I'm ready. I can totally do this.
Juice #1 down. It wasn't terrible. It wasn't butternut squash and goat cheese ravioli with walnut cream sauce either. But, the Donkey episode of Ab Fab is still funny for now and the sky appears to still be blue. Only 68 hours left.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Check out those seat covers. Roger That.
 |
| Fab shades |
- Say "Roger that" after everything said into a walkie talkie. You can say "Roger that niner over and out cuuuuuusch" as well for added effect.
- Come up with your own group language so that outsiders don't know what the hell you're talking about. Bonus points if truck drivers can decode your made up language.
- Make friends with everyone else on your channel and respond to them with far out nonsense that makes them laugh.
- Don't give both walkie talkies to one person.
 |
| Nom Nom Nom |
- Don't pee during the month of October. This frees up lots of additional time in front of stages.
- Make your own ACL Bingo game. Include things like a Texas flag tattoo, a baby in headphones, and someone not wearing pants. Here's mine.
- Drunk people write the funniest stuff if you give them markers and large, washable pallets.
- If there is any threat of rain, wear white. You will be given a free poncho by a handsome, kind boy and make lots of new friends.
- Avoid the lines at the food trucks and have food delivered to your tarp by those in need of karmic re-up.
- Rusty will find you. Even in a mosh pit. Even in the dark. He is a ninja.
- Sneak in whiskey.
- See Jack White.
- Drown out the complaints of boring neighbors by turning the music up louder.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you.
My dog and I don't coexist in the traditional sense. I'm not the parent and her the child. I don't own her. It is more symbiotic...when I need her she is there and when she needs me, there I am. And we pretty much always need each other. She is my Samwise Gamgee.
We have done it 3 times together in the last 8 years and she has proven to be exceptionally adaptable and helpful in a move. A pictorial memoir...
Deciding where our furniture should go
Unpacking (rats were in a high priority box)
Enjoying our new neighborhood, Zilker Park
Testing our new bed
Selecting paint colors at Home Depot
Posing for Martha Stewart in our newly decorated bedroom
Worn out from too many projects
I could not do this without her. Fact.
Deciding where our furniture should go
Unpacking (rats were in a high priority box)
Enjoying our new neighborhood, Zilker Park
Testing our new bed
Selecting paint colors at Home Depot
Posing for Martha Stewart in our newly decorated bedroom
Worn out from too many projects
I could not do this without her. Fact.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Girl, I didn't know you could get down like that
I bought my first home. Major decisions and change make me very insecure and emotional and this was no different. I didn't much feel like celebrating even though I should have. It is a major accomplishment, after all. I wanted to feel a level of glee in line with the price tag (like shopping at expensive boutiques in NYC) but mostly it just felt lonely; lonely because gaining a condo meant losing a roommate.
I had hoped my first place would be an adventure I would share with someone else. It didn't work out like I expected, like so many things in life. Going it alone feels amazingly satisfying but a bit terrifying as well. My plans to create a loving space for two people was whittled down to the usual me, myself, and Olive. Everyone keeps reminding me that this is great, one of the best things a person can do for themselves. But, let's be honest, cohabitation failed me and that sucks.
Two steps forward and one step back is still forward movement though. My new place is beautiful and right next door to Barton Springs, a string of awesome restaurants, and one of the best outdoor music festivals in the country. I can see the Austin skyline. The previous owners shared with me that they had zillions of awesome memories and that the place had made them very happy. Hopefully some of that will rub off on me. My living situation the past year has been traumatic and tearful. It will be nice to be in a peaceful, happy place again, even if that means braving Austin alone again at first.
Seth Godin, the guru of online usability and general master of being useful, had a quote the other day that hit me like a Texas driver*:
"Everything will be alright" is not the same as "everything will stay the same."
I have clung to this statement, barnacle like, for the last few weeks. Everything will be alright, just like always. People adapt, get over it, move on, and move forward. And everything is better for it every single time. Remember that, Rach, you silly girl.
Luckily, two steps forward and one step back is also how you two-step which is not a bad way at all of getting from A to B in life. Wish me luck!
*No one in Texas was taught to drive. No one. The basic principals of staying in the lines, using signals, and generally paying attention are not used in the Lonestar State. Learning to operate a vehicle is clearly not as important as learning to shoot guns and say "yes, ma'am", which most Texans do quite well. This does not put my mind at ease.
Hang On Little Tomato by Pink Martini
I had hoped my first place would be an adventure I would share with someone else. It didn't work out like I expected, like so many things in life. Going it alone feels amazingly satisfying but a bit terrifying as well. My plans to create a loving space for two people was whittled down to the usual me, myself, and Olive. Everyone keeps reminding me that this is great, one of the best things a person can do for themselves. But, let's be honest, cohabitation failed me and that sucks.
Two steps forward and one step back is still forward movement though. My new place is beautiful and right next door to Barton Springs, a string of awesome restaurants, and one of the best outdoor music festivals in the country. I can see the Austin skyline. The previous owners shared with me that they had zillions of awesome memories and that the place had made them very happy. Hopefully some of that will rub off on me. My living situation the past year has been traumatic and tearful. It will be nice to be in a peaceful, happy place again, even if that means braving Austin alone again at first.
Seth Godin, the guru of online usability and general master of being useful, had a quote the other day that hit me like a Texas driver*:
"Everything will be alright" is not the same as "everything will stay the same."
I have clung to this statement, barnacle like, for the last few weeks. Everything will be alright, just like always. People adapt, get over it, move on, and move forward. And everything is better for it every single time. Remember that, Rach, you silly girl.
Luckily, two steps forward and one step back is also how you two-step which is not a bad way at all of getting from A to B in life. Wish me luck!
*No one in Texas was taught to drive. No one. The basic principals of staying in the lines, using signals, and generally paying attention are not used in the Lonestar State. Learning to operate a vehicle is clearly not as important as learning to shoot guns and say "yes, ma'am", which most Texans do quite well. This does not put my mind at ease.
Hang On Little Tomato by Pink Martini
Monday, March 19, 2012
At cool shit doing cool shit
Another SXSW under my belt with no visible damage to report. The only casualty was my poor phone which got the newest release of the cracked screen app. Amazing music and even more amazing company made this week the best music festival yet! Some of the artists need a lesson in etiquette but overall it was fabulous. Noteworthy moments in no order of priority:
Watch Andrew and I at Kimbra...we were in the front row for this truly amazing acoustic set. I'm in a white dress and AK in shades just to the side of the green Spotify wooden sign. She did the whole thing with just her voice, a recorder, and an iPad. She was so scared, her fingers were trembling.
We had the misfortune of choosing to see fun. at 1100 Warehouse where technical difficulties held them up for ages and finally required them to "make it work" with no sound. However, the last song, especially the tiny bit at the end where their sound finally goes out completely, was a remarkable comeback and ended up being one of the most fun and memorable shows of the week. I can't wait to see them with speakers.
When AK and JDLV led me through a broken down tool shed wedged between two buildings not even close to making it out of a code violation , I was skeptical. But, on the other side of the wooden plank door was a crazed DJ laser show that nearly put Skrillex to shame. When we realized the door we had just come through had gone missing, we knew this was a moment not of this Earth that could only happen at SXSW.
Here's the lineup:
March 10 Sat
DJ Throwdown at Mohawk
The Tontons at Stubb's
UME at Stubb's
Respect the DJ party at Empire Automotive (Best Trip to Narnia)
March 12 Mon
Lithium Party (Best Photos with Friends and Monsters)
March 13 Tues
Nneka at Clive (Best Concert Poster)
Some crap show at Belmont
Tango Alpha Tango at Whiskey Ink
Electric Touch at Buffalo Billiards
The Soldier Thread at Buffalo Billiards
March 14 Wed
Alice Smith at Fader Fort (Most anticipated, Least rewarded)
Gary Clark Jr. at Fader Fort
Tribes at 1100 Warehouse
fun. at 1100 Warehouse (Best Rebound)
Twin Atlantic at 1100 Warehouse
Neon Trees at 1100 Warehouse
Danny Brown at some tiny bar near De La Vina's place
March 15 Thurs
Kimbra (acoustic) at Spotify House (Most Creative Acoustic)
The Shins at Auditorium Shores
Drop the Lime at Lustre Pearl
Yaught at Lustre Pearl (Runner Up - Best Performer)
Miike Snow at Lustre Pearl (Worst Show Overall)
March 16 Friday
Grimes at Google Play party
Kids These Days at South by San Jose
Alabama Shakes at South by San Jose (Best Music)
Hollywood Holt at 1100 Warehouse
The Cool Kids at 1100 Warehouse
EL-P at 1100 Warehouse
Das Racist at 1100 Warehouse
Spank Rock at 1100 Warehouse (Best Lyric Used as Mantra for the Rest of SXSW)
Skrillex at 1100 Warehouse
March 17 Sat
Mr. MFN Exquire at Fader Fort
Dive at Fader Fort
Kindness at Fader Fort
Darkside at Fader Fort
Rittz at Fader Fort (Most Unexpectedly Awesome - http://www.thefader.com/2011/03/09/rittz-white-jesus-mixtape-mp3/)
Sleigh Bells at ACL Live Moody Theater (Best Performer)
Nas at ACL Live Moody Theater (Best Stage)
March 18 Sun
98 Episodes of Friday Night Lights, Maudies take out, and 5 gallons of water at home
Watch Andrew and I at Kimbra...we were in the front row for this truly amazing acoustic set. I'm in a white dress and AK in shades just to the side of the green Spotify wooden sign. She did the whole thing with just her voice, a recorder, and an iPad. She was so scared, her fingers were trembling.
We had the misfortune of choosing to see fun. at 1100 Warehouse where technical difficulties held them up for ages and finally required them to "make it work" with no sound. However, the last song, especially the tiny bit at the end where their sound finally goes out completely, was a remarkable comeback and ended up being one of the most fun and memorable shows of the week. I can't wait to see them with speakers.
When AK and JDLV led me through a broken down tool shed wedged between two buildings not even close to making it out of a code violation , I was skeptical. But, on the other side of the wooden plank door was a crazed DJ laser show that nearly put Skrillex to shame. When we realized the door we had just come through had gone missing, we knew this was a moment not of this Earth that could only happen at SXSW.
Here's the lineup:
March 10 Sat
DJ Throwdown at Mohawk
The Tontons at Stubb's
UME at Stubb's
Respect the DJ party at Empire Automotive (Best Trip to Narnia)
March 12 Mon
Lithium Party (Best Photos with Friends and Monsters)
March 13 Tues
Nneka at Clive (Best Concert Poster)
Some crap show at Belmont
Tango Alpha Tango at Whiskey Ink
Electric Touch at Buffalo Billiards
The Soldier Thread at Buffalo Billiards
March 14 Wed
Alice Smith at Fader Fort (Most anticipated, Least rewarded)
Gary Clark Jr. at Fader Fort
Tribes at 1100 Warehouse
fun. at 1100 Warehouse (Best Rebound)
Twin Atlantic at 1100 Warehouse
Neon Trees at 1100 Warehouse
Danny Brown at some tiny bar near De La Vina's place
March 15 Thurs
Kimbra (acoustic) at Spotify House (Most Creative Acoustic)
The Shins at Auditorium Shores
Drop the Lime at Lustre Pearl
Yaught at Lustre Pearl (Runner Up - Best Performer)
Miike Snow at Lustre Pearl (Worst Show Overall)
March 16 Friday
Grimes at Google Play party
Kids These Days at South by San Jose
Alabama Shakes at South by San Jose (Best Music)
Hollywood Holt at 1100 Warehouse
The Cool Kids at 1100 Warehouse
EL-P at 1100 Warehouse
Das Racist at 1100 Warehouse
Spank Rock at 1100 Warehouse (Best Lyric Used as Mantra for the Rest of SXSW)
Skrillex at 1100 Warehouse
March 17 Sat
Mr. MFN Exquire at Fader Fort
Dive at Fader Fort
Kindness at Fader Fort
Darkside at Fader Fort
Rittz at Fader Fort (Most Unexpectedly Awesome - http://www.thefader.com/2011/03/09/rittz-white-jesus-mixtape-mp3/)
Sleigh Bells at ACL Live Moody Theater (Best Performer)
Nas at ACL Live Moody Theater (Best Stage)
March 18 Sun
98 Episodes of Friday Night Lights, Maudies take out, and 5 gallons of water at home
Friday, November 4, 2011
The rainbow after the tears are gone
It is not easy to win the affection of a boyfriend's friends. The approval rating usually ends up somewhere between tolerance and murderous spite. But, nothing is more valuable to a girl trying to land a man than a "gold star" from his best friend. That is why this week is so hard. I didn't just get a thumbs up from Travis Sampley. He was my biggest fan and the feeling was mutual.
Travis, AK, and I spent the last year on a whirlwind of rowdy adventures all over Texas. We were the 3 musketeers. We did everything together it seemed. All of my most fun and memorable moments since moving to Austin included him. We traveled in a pack, literally, walking home together (he lived just a few blocks away). Inseparable barely covers it.
He was my most enthusiastic kitchen guinea pig, gobbling down even the most inedibly tough steak and over-salted fish like he was eating first class at III Forks. He rarely even asked what I was making before agreeing to come over and he always brought my favorite Zinfandel.
My constant heckling for his taste in slow, emotive music didn't
deter him at all from turning off my tunes immediately upon arrival to plug in his iPhone. Every ride in my car started with, "Have you heard the new [insert band I've never heard of here]?" and a reach for the aux cord. He invited me to the most obscure concerts and taught me why vinyl sounds best. He introduced me to music far beyond my comfort zone and I ended up eating my words every time.
Most importantly, he liked me. Not just because he was obligated to. And, I liked him. Not just because I was obligated to. I looked forward to him like he was my own pack member and eventually that's what he became.
His sudden death makes me feel strange. I'm overwhelmed with sadness with spurts of disbelief. Sharing this grief with so many people is simultaneously comforting but also selfishly difficult. I'm watching my man's heart break and it is unimaginably painful. I don't think I'm alone in wishing that there could be just one more moment to say goodbye. In situations like this, I suppose it is natural. But, what would I say if I had that chance?
How do you put into words the solidarity of a friendship that strong? How would you let them know how much you appreciate the joy they bring to your life? Could you really express how much you'll miss them and how much you don't want them to go? I doubt it. Sometimes there are just no words. That is the blessing of death I guess. You can't and so you don't. You just feel it and know it and that has to be enough.
His absence will also be distinctly felt and known...at every party, at every bar, at every concert. His absence will just be distinct. Because someone like Travis doesn't go unnoticed.
I'm sending love and healing to his family and friends. We might have lost a rare one, but there isn't enough gratitude in the universe to match the thanks I have to have known him.
That's How Strong My Love Is by Ryan Bingham
 |
He was my most enthusiastic kitchen guinea pig, gobbling down even the most inedibly tough steak and over-salted fish like he was eating first class at III Forks. He rarely even asked what I was making before agreeing to come over and he always brought my favorite Zinfandel.
My constant heckling for his taste in slow, emotive music didn't
Outside Sidebar hitting on chicks
|
Most importantly, he liked me. Not just because he was obligated to. And, I liked him. Not just because I was obligated to. I looked forward to him like he was my own pack member and eventually that's what he became.
His sudden death makes me feel strange. I'm overwhelmed with sadness with spurts of disbelief. Sharing this grief with so many people is simultaneously comforting but also selfishly difficult. I'm watching my man's heart break and it is unimaginably painful. I don't think I'm alone in wishing that there could be just one more moment to say goodbye. In situations like this, I suppose it is natural. But, what would I say if I had that chance?
After Travis' birthday party at G&S
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His absence will also be distinctly felt and known...at every party, at every bar, at every concert. His absence will just be distinct. Because someone like Travis doesn't go unnoticed.
I'm sending love and healing to his family and friends. We might have lost a rare one, but there isn't enough gratitude in the universe to match the thanks I have to have known him.
That's How Strong My Love Is by Ryan Bingham
Monday, October 3, 2011
Ten Four
As another birthday draws near, I'm doing my usual self-assessment. I like to take stock annually and then decide what gets to stay and what gets the boot. I also make resolutions. I much prefer b-days to the end of the calendar year for making resolutions. For one, no one gives a shit about your resolutions if you make them at the same time as everyone else because everyone is too busy with their own. I usually require assistance with change and therefore get much better participation rates if I choose an off day. Also, there is something about "10 Four!" that sounds official, like I actually better try to complete the tasks or be made to do push ups.
I avoid push ups at all cost.
A few weeks ago I came across a phrase that resonated: the other side of someday. I think it is a lyric. I like it because I'm often guilty of living/wallowing in futuristic hypotheticals and sometimes need to be reminded to enjoy and live the present. This year, when I performed the birthday metaphorical MRI, I was relieved to find out I that I may indeed be on the other side of someday. I'm very near or exactly where I want to be. For once.
I chatted with my mom a few years ago about the two paths folks can take in life. The first is the marriage/kids/house path. The other is the wild/unexpected/free path. My mom and I agreed that you simply cannot have both simultaneously. You have to choose. You can do it all but you have to do just one at a time or you risk pulling yourself too thin and generally doing a lousy job at both. At the time, I was whining to my mom about how all the friends my age had houses and boats and diamond rings. I had a metro pass, a lame-ass boyfriend, and a shih tzu. I had walked away from all the forks in the road for the marriage/kids/house route. I wondered if I had made the wrong choice. She reminded me that I had lived in some amazing places and seen some amazing things. I had lots to show for my life, she insisted. Bless her.
I'm so glad now that i chose the wild path. I won't doubt it again. I may not have the burden of property or stretch marks or a divorce lawyer at age 31, but, dammit, I have other things. I've got a kick ass man, a pretty cool job, low debt, few wrinkles, and no regret. As far as birthday wishes go, anything I think of will probably seem wildly overzealous since I already have everything that I want. I'll still ask to win the lottery of course. Global peace and harmony is just futile really.
Birthday debauchery has already begun with a champagne limo ride to Miranda Lambert and the Pistol Annies. If that isn't the other side of someday, I don't know what is. Getting old is pretty damn fabulous!
I avoid push ups at all cost.
A few weeks ago I came across a phrase that resonated: the other side of someday. I think it is a lyric. I like it because I'm often guilty of living/wallowing in futuristic hypotheticals and sometimes need to be reminded to enjoy and live the present. This year, when I performed the birthday metaphorical MRI, I was relieved to find out I that I may indeed be on the other side of someday. I'm very near or exactly where I want to be. For once.
I chatted with my mom a few years ago about the two paths folks can take in life. The first is the marriage/kids/house path. The other is the wild/unexpected/free path. My mom and I agreed that you simply cannot have both simultaneously. You have to choose. You can do it all but you have to do just one at a time or you risk pulling yourself too thin and generally doing a lousy job at both. At the time, I was whining to my mom about how all the friends my age had houses and boats and diamond rings. I had a metro pass, a lame-ass boyfriend, and a shih tzu. I had walked away from all the forks in the road for the marriage/kids/house route. I wondered if I had made the wrong choice. She reminded me that I had lived in some amazing places and seen some amazing things. I had lots to show for my life, she insisted. Bless her.
I'm so glad now that i chose the wild path. I won't doubt it again. I may not have the burden of property or stretch marks or a divorce lawyer at age 31, but, dammit, I have other things. I've got a kick ass man, a pretty cool job, low debt, few wrinkles, and no regret. As far as birthday wishes go, anything I think of will probably seem wildly overzealous since I already have everything that I want. I'll still ask to win the lottery of course. Global peace and harmony is just futile really.
Birthday debauchery has already begun with a champagne limo ride to Miranda Lambert and the Pistol Annies. If that isn't the other side of someday, I don't know what is. Getting old is pretty damn fabulous!
Friday, July 29, 2011
Between work and hurt and whiskey
On this day one year ago, I ate Chinese take-out from one of my favorite places in DC and then closed the door on the most important chapter of my life so far to begin a new adventure in Texas. I cried on the way to the airport as I watched my beautiful city go past, knowing it wasn't my city anymore. And then I cried most of the flight. And then I cried some more. Saying goodbye to my most precious and long-time friends, friends that had pretty much become my family, was one of the most terrifying and sad moments I've had.
I've thought about that day almost every day since with varied emotion. I'm overwhelmingly lonely at times but also grateful that I was able to shed the stale life I was living in DC for something new and different. I didn't know then if it would work out and I still don't. But, here I am.
Trying to replace my dear friends was the hardest. It was hard because it simply cannot be done. I get that now. The realization was, briefly, quite hopeless. But, now I try to remind myself that new friends can't be made overnight and being comfortable doesn't always come easily. That was the whole point of this move, after all, Rach. Comfort and me have always been at odds. It is one of my most devastating and delightful psychological defects.
Luckily, Austin has its charms. A city so full of music can heal even the most damaged outlook on life. I love the area and weather and calendar of events. I found an amazing man and some good friends to show me the lay of this very strange, very large land. I've shot guns, rode horses, cooked over flames, two stepped, smoked joints, and watched football, just like a real Texan. My boots are properly worn in.
I've also made my small mark. Some people in Austin now say darling with a little more daawwwwl. Folks sworn to hunting dogs have a new-found soft spot for Shih Tzus. Corn and Velveeta are becoming dietary staples. Muumuus are...um...ok, fine, still not in style, but I've only been here a year. There is hope.
One year in, I'm really happy to be here of course. But, I still miss the familiarity of my East Coast life a lot and, most of all, I miss my people. Tonight the whiskey I intend to drink will be both celebratory and therapeutic. DC may get a few drunken phone calls tonight from a happy/sad Texan.
Don't Think I Don't Think About It by Darius Rucker
I've thought about that day almost every day since with varied emotion. I'm overwhelmingly lonely at times but also grateful that I was able to shed the stale life I was living in DC for something new and different. I didn't know then if it would work out and I still don't. But, here I am.
Trying to replace my dear friends was the hardest. It was hard because it simply cannot be done. I get that now. The realization was, briefly, quite hopeless. But, now I try to remind myself that new friends can't be made overnight and being comfortable doesn't always come easily. That was the whole point of this move, after all, Rach. Comfort and me have always been at odds. It is one of my most devastating and delightful psychological defects.
Luckily, Austin has its charms. A city so full of music can heal even the most damaged outlook on life. I love the area and weather and calendar of events. I found an amazing man and some good friends to show me the lay of this very strange, very large land. I've shot guns, rode horses, cooked over flames, two stepped, smoked joints, and watched football, just like a real Texan. My boots are properly worn in.
I've also made my small mark. Some people in Austin now say darling with a little more daawwwwl. Folks sworn to hunting dogs have a new-found soft spot for Shih Tzus. Corn and Velveeta are becoming dietary staples. Muumuus are...um...ok, fine, still not in style, but I've only been here a year. There is hope.
One year in, I'm really happy to be here of course. But, I still miss the familiarity of my East Coast life a lot and, most of all, I miss my people. Tonight the whiskey I intend to drink will be both celebratory and therapeutic. DC may get a few drunken phone calls tonight from a happy/sad Texan.
Don't Think I Don't Think About It by Darius Rucker
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Shockingly, I did manage to retain some information from SXSW Interactive. One interesting session I attended was how to choose and manage a successful team. I do not manage employees myself, but I've worked at an organization with absolutely no concept of team, teamwork, or management skills so I was intrigued.
One analogy that I particularly enjoyed was a spin on operating a motorcycle. Motorcycles, being fast, bouncy, windy deathtraps with no balance and terrible acoustics are typically of no interest to me. However, my Dad drives a Harley and I'm obligated to compliment it when I am in Nebraska. My Dad also likes analogies.
The presenter had taken the required riding course and used the instruction to "look not at what you might hit but instead where you wish to go." If you look at obstructions in the road, you will probably hit them. I guess that's how you avoid a head injury when driving motorcycles and be an effective manager. Charming.
It is easy to dwell on possible immediate threats instead of looking willfully to the distance. I actually used to be good at this but overdraft fees, 40 hours a week in a cube, and dating in Washington, DC beat it out of me. I look straight down or slightly to the side from now on personally. And you should too if you don't want to be a naively idealistic, chronically-unsatisfied doormat. I should give it another try though. Really, I should.
Along those lines (but mostly unrelated), I am moving in with a male later this week. It is equal parts terrifying and thrilling, shaken, then gently stirred, with a lovesick garnish. Luckily, he is truly amazing and he gets along with my dog. It is predicted to be the best thing in the history of cohabitation. If there was ever a time to look at where I want to be instead of what I might smack painfully into face-first, it is now. He doesn't have a motorcycle but he does have a truck so I think I'm safe.
Totally unrelated...there was an armadillo walking down the sidewalk outside my apartment on Friday. That is TEXAN!
http://notbeige.blogspot.com
One analogy that I particularly enjoyed was a spin on operating a motorcycle. Motorcycles, being fast, bouncy, windy deathtraps with no balance and terrible acoustics are typically of no interest to me. However, my Dad drives a Harley and I'm obligated to compliment it when I am in Nebraska. My Dad also likes analogies.
The presenter had taken the required riding course and used the instruction to "look not at what you might hit but instead where you wish to go." If you look at obstructions in the road, you will probably hit them. I guess that's how you avoid a head injury when driving motorcycles and be an effective manager. Charming.
It is easy to dwell on possible immediate threats instead of looking willfully to the distance. I actually used to be good at this but overdraft fees, 40 hours a week in a cube, and dating in Washington, DC beat it out of me. I look straight down or slightly to the side from now on personally. And you should too if you don't want to be a naively idealistic, chronically-unsatisfied doormat. I should give it another try though. Really, I should.
Along those lines (but mostly unrelated), I am moving in with a male later this week. It is equal parts terrifying and thrilling, shaken, then gently stirred, with a lovesick garnish. Luckily, he is truly amazing and he gets along with my dog. It is predicted to be the best thing in the history of cohabitation. If there was ever a time to look at where I want to be instead of what I might smack painfully into face-first, it is now. He doesn't have a motorcycle but he does have a truck so I think I'm safe.
Totally unrelated...there was an armadillo walking down the sidewalk outside my apartment on Friday. That is TEXAN!
http://notbeige.blogspot.com
Friday, June 18, 2010
Will you marry me?
Making decisions is one of my all-time least favorite activities (up there with hangovers, eating salad, and dealing with Verizon tech support). The last several weeks have been uncomfy, to say the least.
The logistics of scraping up my life, stuffing it into a moving truck, and dumping it out in another time zone are overwhelming, expensive, and all-consuming. Fortunately, there is Tequila.
Tequila and I have always gotten along. We became BFF right away and have stayed close for going on 10 years now. It isn't just alcohol...it is warm and soft, like a blankie or the perfect head-sized indentation in a lover's shoulder. Clearly, I've been intimate with Tequila. I consider it a friend with benefits.
Tequila is a fickle, cliquish friend, however. I daresay it can be downright bitchy at times and has bullied many of my friends into submission. I feel sorry for these people.
When faced with monumental decisions, stress, and uncertainty, Tequila is a rock upon which one can perch safe from and untouched by reality. Like many of my close friends, it has a dynamic personality that keeps our relationship healthy.
For instance, this unique concoction of Tequila and avocado rocked my world. We spent a steamy afternoon together and I fell a little bit more in love. Tequila is always reinventing itself...that's why I like it so much.
I only require salt when taking shots of Tequila. However, this salt foam atop a perfectly-mixed classic margarita was subtle, understated, and refined. Tequila always accessorized impeccably. Like a man in a conservative suit with clever cuff links, I couldn't help myself...I wanted it, BAD.
This papaya margarita from my company picnic was syrupy sweet, cold, and delicious...for a while. After a brainfreeze and eventual need for a toothbrush, I became annoyed with Tequila and needed some time apart to be with my other friends, Whiskey and Gin. Don't worry though, we made up the next day.
Thank you, Tequila, for being there for me during this move. You make making decisions the tiniest little bit less painful.
Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off by Joe Nichols
The logistics of scraping up my life, stuffing it into a moving truck, and dumping it out in another time zone are overwhelming, expensive, and all-consuming. Fortunately, there is Tequila.
Tequila and I have always gotten along. We became BFF right away and have stayed close for going on 10 years now. It isn't just alcohol...it is warm and soft, like a blankie or the perfect head-sized indentation in a lover's shoulder. Clearly, I've been intimate with Tequila. I consider it a friend with benefits.
Tequila is a fickle, cliquish friend, however. I daresay it can be downright bitchy at times and has bullied many of my friends into submission. I feel sorry for these people.
When faced with monumental decisions, stress, and uncertainty, Tequila is a rock upon which one can perch safe from and untouched by reality. Like many of my close friends, it has a dynamic personality that keeps our relationship healthy.
For instance, this unique concoction of Tequila and avocado rocked my world. We spent a steamy afternoon together and I fell a little bit more in love. Tequila is always reinventing itself...that's why I like it so much.
I only require salt when taking shots of Tequila. However, this salt foam atop a perfectly-mixed classic margarita was subtle, understated, and refined. Tequila always accessorized impeccably. Like a man in a conservative suit with clever cuff links, I couldn't help myself...I wanted it, BAD.
This papaya margarita from my company picnic was syrupy sweet, cold, and delicious...for a while. After a brainfreeze and eventual need for a toothbrush, I became annoyed with Tequila and needed some time apart to be with my other friends, Whiskey and Gin. Don't worry though, we made up the next day.
Thank you, Tequila, for being there for me during this move. You make making decisions the tiniest little bit less painful.Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off by Joe Nichols
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Trouble
Me: Hello darling. We need to talk. I’m afraid my love for you has come to an end and I must move on. That red wine the other night at Veritas was the last straw. I mean, sure, I really enjoy your company… I feel we’ve spent some amazing nights together and you always cheer me up. But it always hurts the next morning. There are other things I should attend to. Furthermore, I can’t really afford you.
Trouble: Hmph…you can’t get rid of me. You heart me. And you know there’s no chance I’ll ever really go away. We’re life partners, you and I. Like it or not… Now, do something with that hair so we can go get a martini.
Me: You’re right…i do love you, but like others I’ve loved before, there comes a time when I just need to walk the other direction. You understand, right?
Trouble: You won’t survive without me. You know this. I know this. One day of sobriety and yoga and you’ll be back. Really, honey, why bother?
Me: Oh alright! You win, as usual.
Trouble is a friend by Lenka
Trouble: Hmph…you can’t get rid of me. You heart me. And you know there’s no chance I’ll ever really go away. We’re life partners, you and I. Like it or not… Now, do something with that hair so we can go get a martini.
Me: You’re right…i do love you, but like others I’ve loved before, there comes a time when I just need to walk the other direction. You understand, right?
Trouble: You won’t survive without me. You know this. I know this. One day of sobriety and yoga and you’ll be back. Really, honey, why bother?
Me: Oh alright! You win, as usual.
Trouble is a friend by Lenka
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Do the Jane Fonda
I joined a gym the other day. I even met with a personal trainer. What I thought was going to be a complimentary ass whopping turned out to be a sales pitch for mega-expensive PT sessions. Having never been a member of a gym before, I had no idea this was a risk.
Pinching chubby spots, the trainer’s brow furrowed. “What do you eat?” he asks.
“Pasta and cream sauce,” I reply. The brow tangles even more.
“Do you drink alcohol?”
“Yes, bourbon.” He shakes his head.
“How much?”
“A lot.”
And so the conversation went… He scribbled down notes and returned to me with a hopeful look. “I think I can help you,” he grinned, “but you’ll have to be on a diet and work out all the time.” Disappointed, I slump over to the elliptical machine.
What I think was missed in my PT evaluation was that I wasn’t at the gym with aspirations of supermodel stick-figureness. I like my curves and, even more, I like my lifestyle. I’ve already reconciled the fact that my love of pasta will never allow me arms like Madonna and I’m ok with that. Furthermore, I’m chronically lazy; the Mistress of Excuses, the Princess of Bad Influence.
What I’m looking for in an exercise program is the exact least amount of effort I need to put forth to keep eating and drinking whatever I like and stay relatively the same size, accounting for age and seasonal changes. I don’t need rock-hard abs or buns of steel…I just want to look ok naked and have a happy life. I need more than a celery stick, a cigarette, and a laxative (thanks for that C.V.) to be at my best. I’m not fooled by those starving, unhappy faces in magazines.
And for $75 an hour, I think personal training is for the birds. I usually don’t spend $75/hour having fun, after all.
I fired my PT before he even got to make me sweat. Not because I don’t think he could have transformed me into a 5’4” brick house, but because it just doesn’t sound like much fun to eat lettuce instead of noodles and run in place instead of sipping champagne with my friends.
I do plan to show face at the gym every now and then though. They do have some (almost) fun-looking classes and yoga. As long as nobody (and by “nobody” I mostly mean meathead D-bags looking for a screw) talks to me, I think I could be self-persuaded to lift a weight in addition to my pasta fork. Wish me luck!
Jane Fonda by Mickey Avalon
Pinching chubby spots, the trainer’s brow furrowed. “What do you eat?” he asks.
“Pasta and cream sauce,” I reply. The brow tangles even more.
“Do you drink alcohol?”
“Yes, bourbon.” He shakes his head.
“How much?”
“A lot.”
And so the conversation went… He scribbled down notes and returned to me with a hopeful look. “I think I can help you,” he grinned, “but you’ll have to be on a diet and work out all the time.” Disappointed, I slump over to the elliptical machine.
What I think was missed in my PT evaluation was that I wasn’t at the gym with aspirations of supermodel stick-figureness. I like my curves and, even more, I like my lifestyle. I’ve already reconciled the fact that my love of pasta will never allow me arms like Madonna and I’m ok with that. Furthermore, I’m chronically lazy; the Mistress of Excuses, the Princess of Bad Influence.
What I’m looking for in an exercise program is the exact least amount of effort I need to put forth to keep eating and drinking whatever I like and stay relatively the same size, accounting for age and seasonal changes. I don’t need rock-hard abs or buns of steel…I just want to look ok naked and have a happy life. I need more than a celery stick, a cigarette, and a laxative (thanks for that C.V.) to be at my best. I’m not fooled by those starving, unhappy faces in magazines.
And for $75 an hour, I think personal training is for the birds. I usually don’t spend $75/hour having fun, after all.
I fired my PT before he even got to make me sweat. Not because I don’t think he could have transformed me into a 5’4” brick house, but because it just doesn’t sound like much fun to eat lettuce instead of noodles and run in place instead of sipping champagne with my friends.
I do plan to show face at the gym every now and then though. They do have some (almost) fun-looking classes and yoga. As long as nobody (and by “nobody” I mostly mean meathead D-bags looking for a screw) talks to me, I think I could be self-persuaded to lift a weight in addition to my pasta fork. Wish me luck!
Jane Fonda by Mickey Avalon
Monday, March 23, 2009
Verizon has a consipracy against me
Over the last few months, i've attempted to join whatever century we're in now and sprinkle my life with a few electronic devices. I've always been years behind when it comes to gadgets and things with cords.
I didn't get a DVD player until just a couple years ago, after my mom realized how un-cool I was. I am forever in debt to my former music mentor from Colorado for gently encouraging me to give up my boom box by gifting me an iPod (filled with cool new music). He rightly predicted I wouldn't have a computer at home with which to charge the Pod so he included the wall charger. Brilliant! When the cable I was stealing got shut off, I signed up for Netflix and called it a day. I couldn't loose that crappy used cell phone in a cab to save my life. Spending money and time on such luxuries as wireless internet, communication by phone, and a working thermostat seemed a bit beyond my reach. I was doing fine without so why complicate my life?
I'm not sure if it was winter boredom, my new job at a software company (where EVERYONE has an iPhone), or my sports-loving beau who waits for me patiently with nothing but Bust magazine and Olive to keep him entertained...something inspired me to get wired.
In the last few months, i've added a digital converter box and space-age rabbit ears (I couldn't quite bring myself to get cable yet and the government was offering coupons), wireless internet (which I share with my neighbors to keep the cost down...less money spent on bills means more money to spend on denim), a new cell phone, and an Internet-based home phone so I can more easily work in my pajamas. I had to get two power strips for all those damn cords.
I have had several meltdowns over faulty equipment, low signal, and criminal billing practices. This shit simply isn't my thing.
While I am (sometimes...when it is working) happy to be able to stream old CSI Miami episodes wireless on my laptop while simultaneously watching the new CSI Miami episode on channel 7-1 WJLA-HD or whatever, I do question the necessity of it all. There are times I want to gather up all those ugly boxes with annoying blinking lights and their tangle of miserable cords and ritualistically burn them.
Olive and Beau do seem content watching March Madness while I blow-dry so perhaps it is worth it. Just no more effing cords please.
P.S. Thanks for the YouTube video, Tex. It made me feel the tiniest bit better about all the obscenities that have come from my mouth in your presence while trying to get all my fucking pieces of shit working.
I didn't get a DVD player until just a couple years ago, after my mom realized how un-cool I was. I am forever in debt to my former music mentor from Colorado for gently encouraging me to give up my boom box by gifting me an iPod (filled with cool new music). He rightly predicted I wouldn't have a computer at home with which to charge the Pod so he included the wall charger. Brilliant! When the cable I was stealing got shut off, I signed up for Netflix and called it a day. I couldn't loose that crappy used cell phone in a cab to save my life. Spending money and time on such luxuries as wireless internet, communication by phone, and a working thermostat seemed a bit beyond my reach. I was doing fine without so why complicate my life?
I'm not sure if it was winter boredom, my new job at a software company (where EVERYONE has an iPhone), or my sports-loving beau who waits for me patiently with nothing but Bust magazine and Olive to keep him entertained...something inspired me to get wired.
In the last few months, i've added a digital converter box and space-age rabbit ears (I couldn't quite bring myself to get cable yet and the government was offering coupons), wireless internet (which I share with my neighbors to keep the cost down...less money spent on bills means more money to spend on denim), a new cell phone, and an Internet-based home phone so I can more easily work in my pajamas. I had to get two power strips for all those damn cords.
I have had several meltdowns over faulty equipment, low signal, and criminal billing practices. This shit simply isn't my thing.
While I am (sometimes...when it is working) happy to be able to stream old CSI Miami episodes wireless on my laptop while simultaneously watching the new CSI Miami episode on channel 7-1 WJLA-HD or whatever, I do question the necessity of it all. There are times I want to gather up all those ugly boxes with annoying blinking lights and their tangle of miserable cords and ritualistically burn them.
Olive and Beau do seem content watching March Madness while I blow-dry so perhaps it is worth it. Just no more effing cords please.
P.S. Thanks for the YouTube video, Tex. It made me feel the tiniest bit better about all the obscenities that have come from my mouth in your presence while trying to get all my fucking pieces of shit working.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Shih Tzus for Obama
I was afraid to be so bold as to say that i just helped make history, but, really, didn't i?
Today might not go down as the most important day in the history of the universe...perhaps the Big Bang and that day when the first fish to haul herself from one puddle to another lived supersedes today by just a hair. But today may very well turn out to be the most monumental event in contemporary history. I'm simply thrilled to be 1. old enough to participate, 2. legally protected to do so, and 3. in DC to celebrate with a bunch of crazed political junkies afterward.
I just voted, got my free coffee from Starbucks, and am reveling in the excitement of my second election in DC. No one is doing any work at my office and it is only a matter of time until we all just surrender the fantasy and start streaming CNN.
Though it hardly needs to be said, i hope that all of my fellow Americans who still have voting rights get their tails to the elementary school or church or police station or VFW and cast their vote. If you're still undecided or haven't been paying attention, just vote for Obama. Actually, if you have any sense at all, vote for Obama. And, as if you still needed reasons, i just heard that Nebraska, my mega-Republican home state, is predicted to award Obama 1 of their 5 electoral votes. If that isn't monumental, i don't know what is.
Today might not go down as the most important day in the history of the universe...perhaps the Big Bang and that day when the first fish to haul herself from one puddle to another lived supersedes today by just a hair. But today may very well turn out to be the most monumental event in contemporary history. I'm simply thrilled to be 1. old enough to participate, 2. legally protected to do so, and 3. in DC to celebrate with a bunch of crazed political junkies afterward.
I just voted, got my free coffee from Starbucks, and am reveling in the excitement of my second election in DC. No one is doing any work at my office and it is only a matter of time until we all just surrender the fantasy and start streaming CNN.
Though it hardly needs to be said, i hope that all of my fellow Americans who still have voting rights get their tails to the elementary school or church or police station or VFW and cast their vote. If you're still undecided or haven't been paying attention, just vote for Obama. Actually, if you have any sense at all, vote for Obama. And, as if you still needed reasons, i just heard that Nebraska, my mega-Republican home state, is predicted to award Obama 1 of their 5 electoral votes. If that isn't monumental, i don't know what is.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Tentative
I usually rationalize my personality traits and gut reactions to things based on my astrological sign, Libra. (Happy birthday to all you Libras out there.) However, before leaving my last job, I received a personality profile that has given me a more fine-tuned explanation for my sometimes eccentric behaviour.
The profile was fascinating. Not because it illuminated intimate traits i didn't know i had, but rather because it had charts, graphs, color coding, and sophisticated language for things i have always known about myself. It had predictions, warnings, and advice the likes of which my financial advisor couldn't even imagine! I'm not one for statistics, columns, and rows. But, there is something kinda magical about your deepest, most cellular being mapped out on an x and y axis.
Basically, it told me this:
I am a manically social person who abhors structure, rules, and oversight. I will rebel at the slightest oppression, but genuinely cultivate peace and fairness. I like to think about things for a bit and cannot be rushed. Diplomacy comes naturally, as does calmly reacting to change. I will become grumpy and unsocial when i feel overwhelmed though.
One word for the last month: overwhelmed.
In a good way. In a not so good way. In a scary, exciting, anxious, exhilarating, exhausting, sad, lovely way.
Leaving a job. Starting a job. Starting a relationship. Maintaining relationships. Planning a party. Planning a vacation. Planning another party. Traveling. Interviewing. It is enough to make a girl want to take her Shih Tzu and go into hiding. Which is pretty much what i've done tonight and may continue to do for a while.
Calmly reacting to change is all great and wonderful until you find that you haven't done laundry in weeks, the library has turned you into collections, and your dog (not to mention your friends) has been assigned to another "calm" and "diplomatic" person. You know that scene in Ab Fab...the one where Edina gets an electronic planner and it keeps beeping at her until she gets so overwhelmed she throws the damn thing out the window. Like Edina, I am going to, in a totally calm and non-aggressive way, scream "Give me back my life!" to the universe and hope that it works. The universe is just going to have to cancel some meetings. You can’t live your life under that sort of pressure, darling.
So, I no longer have time for petals in my life. I want stems. At least for now…at least until I pay a bill and take a yoga class and feel a little bored. I am diplomatically and calmly tentative until further notice.
The profile was fascinating. Not because it illuminated intimate traits i didn't know i had, but rather because it had charts, graphs, color coding, and sophisticated language for things i have always known about myself. It had predictions, warnings, and advice the likes of which my financial advisor couldn't even imagine! I'm not one for statistics, columns, and rows. But, there is something kinda magical about your deepest, most cellular being mapped out on an x and y axis.
Basically, it told me this:
I am a manically social person who abhors structure, rules, and oversight. I will rebel at the slightest oppression, but genuinely cultivate peace and fairness. I like to think about things for a bit and cannot be rushed. Diplomacy comes naturally, as does calmly reacting to change. I will become grumpy and unsocial when i feel overwhelmed though.
One word for the last month: overwhelmed.
In a good way. In a not so good way. In a scary, exciting, anxious, exhilarating, exhausting, sad, lovely way.
Leaving a job. Starting a job. Starting a relationship. Maintaining relationships. Planning a party. Planning a vacation. Planning another party. Traveling. Interviewing. It is enough to make a girl want to take her Shih Tzu and go into hiding. Which is pretty much what i've done tonight and may continue to do for a while.
Calmly reacting to change is all great and wonderful until you find that you haven't done laundry in weeks, the library has turned you into collections, and your dog (not to mention your friends) has been assigned to another "calm" and "diplomatic" person. You know that scene in Ab Fab...the one where Edina gets an electronic planner and it keeps beeping at her until she gets so overwhelmed she throws the damn thing out the window. Like Edina, I am going to, in a totally calm and non-aggressive way, scream "Give me back my life!" to the universe and hope that it works. The universe is just going to have to cancel some meetings. You can’t live your life under that sort of pressure, darling.
So, I no longer have time for petals in my life. I want stems. At least for now…at least until I pay a bill and take a yoga class and feel a little bored. I am diplomatically and calmly tentative until further notice.
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