Wednesday, February 26, 2020
Thursday, December 3, 2015
Things Happen
This year has been a wellspring of new friendships, a renewal of some unexpected old ones, and the coffin for others. What a difference a year makes?!
Friends who come and go and come back are not new to me. When you move around as much as I do, it becomes almost second nature. Making new friends gets easier. Losing friends becomes easier too. And, when I occasionally check in on my net friendships, all seems comfortably in the Black. Until this year...
The last 12 months have seen some heavy hits. My sister and I continue to be estranged and some very dear friends of mine have exited my life, some in a painful way. Libras are notorious for obsessively craving popularity and acceptance. It is a trait I both loathe and love about myself. Validation by acceptance is a powerful high and equally sickening low. To be pushed away is devastating to me.
I've not been the instigator of this year's exodus but I have allowed it, as one should in my opinion. Perhaps it is because I too have required a relationship Ctrl+Alt+Delete. It is interesting and uncomfortable to be on the receiving end but I understand and respect the process.
Luckily, I strongly believe things work out as they should inevitably. Things happen. That's all they ever do.
Friends who come and go and come back are not new to me. When you move around as much as I do, it becomes almost second nature. Making new friends gets easier. Losing friends becomes easier too. And, when I occasionally check in on my net friendships, all seems comfortably in the Black. Until this year...
The last 12 months have seen some heavy hits. My sister and I continue to be estranged and some very dear friends of mine have exited my life, some in a painful way. Libras are notorious for obsessively craving popularity and acceptance. It is a trait I both loathe and love about myself. Validation by acceptance is a powerful high and equally sickening low. To be pushed away is devastating to me.
I've not been the instigator of this year's exodus but I have allowed it, as one should in my opinion. Perhaps it is because I too have required a relationship Ctrl+Alt+Delete. It is interesting and uncomfortable to be on the receiving end but I understand and respect the process.
Luckily, I strongly believe things work out as they should inevitably. Things happen. That's all they ever do.
Monday, October 26, 2015
Mom's Birthday Wish
Like so many of my favorite things all year, my Mom's birthday is in October and she asked for a song dedication. I couldn't think of a more lovely thing to wish for but it did catch me off guard.
I've been busy this year and haven't been writing much. Blog posts are very spontaneous for me and are usually written in just a few minutes when inspiration hits. Typically, a request like this wouldn't be possible on the fly. Luckily, there is not another person in the world that is more inspirational than that woman.
My awe is visceral. She's amazing as a mom, to be sure. We also appear to share the same brain. We regularly say/do/buy/point at the same things with near spooky similarity and timing. It is such a blessing to have a thoughtful, personally-invested, like-minded sounding board that I can speak to with utmost honesty. She is the best best friend a person could have.
She effortlessly charms everyone who she comes across. I see it when she visits me in Texas. She is a fan favorite with all my friends and everyone, even some strangers, look forward to her visits. When I go home to Nebraska it is clear that no one has more fun. My friends from former homes continue to stay in touch with her. She's a wild one, without question.
And she's hot. I mean, really. Like gorgeous. Like MILF to nearly every person I know, young and old. The magnetism of this person is incredible. We are all helpless against it. And, it isn't just her physical beauty that makes her irresistible to all. She has a way. A vibe. An aura. If you know her, you know it.
Happy birthday Mom! A little thrown together and not very eloquent, but so, so true. I hope you like your birthday song!
I've been busy this year and haven't been writing much. Blog posts are very spontaneous for me and are usually written in just a few minutes when inspiration hits. Typically, a request like this wouldn't be possible on the fly. Luckily, there is not another person in the world that is more inspirational than that woman.
 |
| We do this without trying. All the time. |
She effortlessly charms everyone who she comes across. I see it when she visits me in Texas. She is a fan favorite with all my friends and everyone, even some strangers, look forward to her visits. When I go home to Nebraska it is clear that no one has more fun. My friends from former homes continue to stay in touch with her. She's a wild one, without question.
And she's hot. I mean, really. Like gorgeous. Like MILF to nearly every person I know, young and old. The magnetism of this person is incredible. We are all helpless against it. And, it isn't just her physical beauty that makes her irresistible to all. She has a way. A vibe. An aura. If you know her, you know it.
Happy birthday Mom! A little thrown together and not very eloquent, but so, so true. I hope you like your birthday song!
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
Who's On Your Zombie Apocalypse Team?
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.
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.
Thursday, October 23, 2014
Not Enough Lifetimes
As my favorite month comes to a close, I have the usual feeling of dread. October has it all. Beauty, weather, music, pumpkin. My birthday has now come and gone. The rein of the indulgent Libra is ending. I'm not ready.
I found myself in a cab the other night, wickedly cursing 2am as if it had just kicked my dog. I didn't want it to end.
Years ago, when my Grandpa was sick, I laid my head on him and he touched my hair. My plane was leaving that afternoon. We both knew I wouldn't see him again. I wanted more time.
My Mom kept pointing out babies in headphones at the legendary Austin City Limits Music Festival. "You'd have such a cool kid," she kept saying. And I would, undoubtedly. "Don't miss out," she warned. Roger that. But that means I wouldn't get to be what I am now. I wouldn't get to do what I do now.
I could have been a dancer or a lawyer or a fashion designer. I could live in Spain. Spain sounds lovely. But, then I wouldn't be here, now.
I have come to the conclusion that there are just not enough lifetimes in this lifetime. There are so many things to do, so much beauty and fun. There are so many people. Listing the things I've done seems impressive at times, but lately it seems to just scratch the surface. Is this what getting older feels like?
If there could just be a few more, a little longer, another at least. Then I could get it all done.
I found myself in a cab the other night, wickedly cursing 2am as if it had just kicked my dog. I didn't want it to end.
Years ago, when my Grandpa was sick, I laid my head on him and he touched my hair. My plane was leaving that afternoon. We both knew I wouldn't see him again. I wanted more time.
My Mom kept pointing out babies in headphones at the legendary Austin City Limits Music Festival. "You'd have such a cool kid," she kept saying. And I would, undoubtedly. "Don't miss out," she warned. Roger that. But that means I wouldn't get to be what I am now. I wouldn't get to do what I do now.
I could have been a dancer or a lawyer or a fashion designer. I could live in Spain. Spain sounds lovely. But, then I wouldn't be here, now.
I have come to the conclusion that there are just not enough lifetimes in this lifetime. There are so many things to do, so much beauty and fun. There are so many people. Listing the things I've done seems impressive at times, but lately it seems to just scratch the surface. Is this what getting older feels like?
If there could just be a few more, a little longer, another at least. Then I could get it all done.
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.
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Slow Cookers and Other Snail-Paced Things
The passage of time is simply sensational. It heals, grows, dissolves, ages, marinates, ferments, and a whole heap of other amazing things. And you don't even really need to do anything for time to work its magic, though some tolerance can help time pass in your favor.
Many of my favorite things take time. I love a slow cooked anything and a glass of wine with an old friend. I love the anticipation of plans made in advance. I love looking through my scrapbooks. All of these things have a common vital component.
Many people think of time as a thing you can't get back and they see this as a problem. Sure, but who would want it? The trick is to spend it and keep it like you know you can't get it back. It rewards you in return.
I was in Steamboat Springs recently. I had been skiing, drinking, listening to live music, smoking a tiny bit of that newly-legal green stuff. I paused briefly, really enjoying a moment, and realized the band was playing a song that had, just 12 months earlier, meant the opposite. It was a song of heartbreak, the usual painful country lyrics. One word seemed to resonate: salvage. That word had felt so negative and hopeless 12 months prior. Now it felt triumphant. This year, as I looked around at my incredible group of new friends, dancing and singing along with Turnpike Troubadours, with my new man's arm around me, a wave of gratitude for time and its constant movement forward swept over me.
My mom told me of a young person in my hometown who killed himself recently. How sad? We talked about how people don't always grasp that the enormity of a current situation is actually only a tiny fragment of the original. Making irreversible decisions without letting some time pass is a big, big mistake.
So often we simply need to wait a bit for everything to get worked out. And the extra time we allow makes it far superior. Like a nice 15 YO Scotch or a Golden Anniversary cake...hell, even a happy hour at the end of a hard work day, enjoy every minute, the process (as best you can) and the outcome.
Now, please remind me of this sentiment around the 20th hour of my painfully long flight to India. I said I love time, I never said I had patience.
Many of my favorite things take time. I love a slow cooked anything and a glass of wine with an old friend. I love the anticipation of plans made in advance. I love looking through my scrapbooks. All of these things have a common vital component.
Many people think of time as a thing you can't get back and they see this as a problem. Sure, but who would want it? The trick is to spend it and keep it like you know you can't get it back. It rewards you in return.
I was in Steamboat Springs recently. I had been skiing, drinking, listening to live music, smoking a tiny bit of that newly-legal green stuff. I paused briefly, really enjoying a moment, and realized the band was playing a song that had, just 12 months earlier, meant the opposite. It was a song of heartbreak, the usual painful country lyrics. One word seemed to resonate: salvage. That word had felt so negative and hopeless 12 months prior. Now it felt triumphant. This year, as I looked around at my incredible group of new friends, dancing and singing along with Turnpike Troubadours, with my new man's arm around me, a wave of gratitude for time and its constant movement forward swept over me.
My mom told me of a young person in my hometown who killed himself recently. How sad? We talked about how people don't always grasp that the enormity of a current situation is actually only a tiny fragment of the original. Making irreversible decisions without letting some time pass is a big, big mistake.
So often we simply need to wait a bit for everything to get worked out. And the extra time we allow makes it far superior. Like a nice 15 YO Scotch or a Golden Anniversary cake...hell, even a happy hour at the end of a hard work day, enjoy every minute, the process (as best you can) and the outcome.
Now, please remind me of this sentiment around the 20th hour of my painfully long flight to India. I said I love time, I never said I had patience.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
I fell so hard
I find it therapeutic to put myself in new situations involving a rather Phoenix-like Ctrl+Alt+Delete. But, between burning it down and building it back up is usually the most lengthy, emotional, and taxing. It can be a wearisome job to live without roots or rules. So, I've become an expert at dangling in limbo and I do it with diligent regularity.
To dangle is in essence to float but also to be in the precarious state of almost falling. Dangling denotes risk, precision, fragility; to be suspended in between two things that may or may not be comfortable, to attach barnacle-like to the fine line. To dangle requires assiduous concentration and painstaking practice. It also requires bravery and resolution, to be have purpose even in the unknown. Dangling defies gravity with a shrug and another try.
Three years in Austin have been a good lesson in dangling and in limbo. This is a place and people very hard to define and even more difficult to embrace. Fortunately, if there was ever a place to practice dangling gracefully and with comfort, it is in Texas.
Here's to 3 years and many more happy years to come.
Love you, Texas!
 |
| Before |
 |
| After some practice |
Here's to 3 years and many more happy years to come.
Love you, Texas!
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Online Dating Vol. 3 - Furry Eligibles and Staying Up All Night
So you've sifted through the good, bad, and ugly of your local eligibles. You manage to not insult/bore/scare your suitors with email message clumsiness. You may even have had some clever banter going. Now for the terrifying part...you have to meet these people, face to face, and determine once and for all if they are as cute and interesting as you've talked yourself into believing.
And then you do it. And it isn't that bad.
Did I just have fun? Yes, yes I did. And I wasn't even drugged and chopped up into little pieces. Could it be this easy?*
Snark and pessimism are some of my most prized and evolved traits which is why I'm a little disappointed to admit I've walked away from nearly every date happy, even impressed. There are some nifty dudes out there! Sure, I don't sense a romantic connection with everyone. But, I'm incredibly relieved that such high quality men are out there, just waiting to be dated. I haven't been treated this well in years!
Hats off to you, sirs. I applaud your bravery and prowess and I appreciate your kindness, conversation, and cocktails. You have given me a newfound hope that indeed some men are the adorable, loving, furry creatures I've always hoped they could be. (And with the ferocity in which I have sworn off men in the past, this is a truly noteworthy accomplishment.)
It is wrong that I've had such luck casually dating that I kinda want to throw in the towel on an actual long-term relationship?
Nah...I kid. We all know my preference is one special person only. But, ladies and gents, 3 months of online dating is one of the best decisions I've made and I suggest everyone get on out there and date the shit out of your town immediately.
Unless, of course...
*Ok, full disclosure...I did receive a text message informing me that one particular date was off the market on account of his wife discovering his infidelity. Luckily, I hadn't met with this person yet on account of my, um...intuition. Dudes, if you're going to using online dating to cheat, don't leave your phone around for your wife to find (and use to end your electronic relationships herself). C'mon, elementary!
And then you do it. And it isn't that bad.
Did I just have fun? Yes, yes I did. And I wasn't even drugged and chopped up into little pieces. Could it be this easy?*
Snark and pessimism are some of my most prized and evolved traits which is why I'm a little disappointed to admit I've walked away from nearly every date happy, even impressed. There are some nifty dudes out there! Sure, I don't sense a romantic connection with everyone. But, I'm incredibly relieved that such high quality men are out there, just waiting to be dated. I haven't been treated this well in years!
 |
| Ahhhh, this is what it's all about, folks |
It is wrong that I've had such luck casually dating that I kinda want to throw in the towel on an actual long-term relationship?
Nah...I kid. We all know my preference is one special person only. But, ladies and gents, 3 months of online dating is one of the best decisions I've made and I suggest everyone get on out there and date the shit out of your town immediately.
Unless, of course...
*Ok, full disclosure...I did receive a text message informing me that one particular date was off the market on account of his wife discovering his infidelity. Luckily, I hadn't met with this person yet on account of my, um...intuition. Dudes, if you're going to using online dating to cheat, don't leave your phone around for your wife to find (and use to end your electronic relationships herself). C'mon, elementary!
Monday, April 29, 2013
Online Dating Vol. 2 - Response Rates and LL Cool J
Communication, I think we can all agree, is one of the most delicate, beautiful, tragic, complicated, important, moving, poorly done human tasks. It is a wonder we have managed to populate the planet at such an astounding rate when very many in our midst are incapable of exchanging even the most basic information.
Particularly mystifying appears to be communicating with someone who interests you on an online dating site. Now, let's not forget that the whole point of online dating sites is to connect a person with another person and enable them to contact each other easily and efficiently online. In other words, this is a communication tool.
And it even takes a lot of the work out of it by restricting how you'll do it. You get to send a message. That's it. You don't get to use your expensive cologne, enchanting blue eyes, or syrupy voice. That LL Cool J head nod and lip pucker you've been perfecting since 2001...you don't get to use it. The best wingman in the world...nope, not gonna help you here. Peacocks have more to work with so you really need to make it count, ladies and gentlemen!
I worked hard to make my "homepage" welcoming and optimized for conversion, being sure to include little tidbits you may use to craft your message of introduction. If you ignore those tidbits, it confuses me and indicates how attentive you're likely to be should you manage to get my clothes off; two things that ensure my clothes are staying absolutely put.
I work as an email marketer and I know that statistically you have between 1-4 seconds to make an impact when a recipient opens your message. If your shit is beige, you're going into the deleted folder faster than you can say "WTF." If you have the good sense to use the only tool available to you, the gift of human prose, you might just get your shit read. And that, kiddos, is why you're wasting your time and mine on this site to begin with.
I'm sorry to report that 37% of messages I've received have been this: "Hey, how are you?"
Really?! I just picked my phone all the way up and pushed the screen twice to read that P.O.S. Forget it, dude. No, not even forget it...fuck you for interrupting my life and making a piss-poor example of the male species. Your comrades should kick your ass.
On the other end of the spectrum, I've had a good ~30% of messages exemplify wit, intelligence, a careful read of my information, and genuine interest. Some of them have downright sex appeal! I applaud you, sirs. I respond to about 75% of them.
The remaining 30% is just uncreative crap about how we have a lot in common (we don't) and that they just want to find a soul mate (because it is JUST so easy) and it would be nice to make two sets of footprints in the sand on those long walks on the beach (these people all live in Cedar Park, have bad haircuts, and don't know what ACL stands for which means I'd rather die alone, bless their sad, lonely little hearts).
Only 1 message in about 150 said I was ugly. I kindly asked he remove himself from the gene pool. I also cursed him with the fury of 1,000 suns.
Honestly, I too found it a bit difficult to start electronic conversations with strangers, especially if they didn't offer up any of those nifty little morsels that can be used to make a meaningful connection in a message. It's damn hard to tap into the sweet, clever, panty-dropping poetry of Mr. Cool J or the confident sensuality of Sade. But, as a professional email consultant who advises paying clients on writing engaging, action-oriented messages, if I couldn't pull it off, I'd really feel like an epic failure and would probably just join a nunnery. I must have managed to not look like an asshole because I have a 95% response rate. If only I could have that kind of success on the actual dates. More to come...
Particularly mystifying appears to be communicating with someone who interests you on an online dating site. Now, let's not forget that the whole point of online dating sites is to connect a person with another person and enable them to contact each other easily and efficiently online. In other words, this is a communication tool.
And it even takes a lot of the work out of it by restricting how you'll do it. You get to send a message. That's it. You don't get to use your expensive cologne, enchanting blue eyes, or syrupy voice. That LL Cool J head nod and lip pucker you've been perfecting since 2001...you don't get to use it. The best wingman in the world...nope, not gonna help you here. Peacocks have more to work with so you really need to make it count, ladies and gentlemen!
I worked hard to make my "homepage" welcoming and optimized for conversion, being sure to include little tidbits you may use to craft your message of introduction. If you ignore those tidbits, it confuses me and indicates how attentive you're likely to be should you manage to get my clothes off; two things that ensure my clothes are staying absolutely put.
I work as an email marketer and I know that statistically you have between 1-4 seconds to make an impact when a recipient opens your message. If your shit is beige, you're going into the deleted folder faster than you can say "WTF." If you have the good sense to use the only tool available to you, the gift of human prose, you might just get your shit read. And that, kiddos, is why you're wasting your time and mine on this site to begin with.
Really?! I just picked my phone all the way up and pushed the screen twice to read that P.O.S. Forget it, dude. No, not even forget it...fuck you for interrupting my life and making a piss-poor example of the male species. Your comrades should kick your ass.
On the other end of the spectrum, I've had a good ~30% of messages exemplify wit, intelligence, a careful read of my information, and genuine interest. Some of them have downright sex appeal! I applaud you, sirs. I respond to about 75% of them.
The remaining 30% is just uncreative crap about how we have a lot in common (we don't) and that they just want to find a soul mate (because it is JUST so easy) and it would be nice to make two sets of footprints in the sand on those long walks on the beach (these people all live in Cedar Park, have bad haircuts, and don't know what ACL stands for which means I'd rather die alone, bless their sad, lonely little hearts).
Only 1 message in about 150 said I was ugly. I kindly asked he remove himself from the gene pool. I also cursed him with the fury of 1,000 suns.
Honestly, I too found it a bit difficult to start electronic conversations with strangers, especially if they didn't offer up any of those nifty little morsels that can be used to make a meaningful connection in a message. It's damn hard to tap into the sweet, clever, panty-dropping poetry of Mr. Cool J or the confident sensuality of Sade. But, as a professional email consultant who advises paying clients on writing engaging, action-oriented messages, if I couldn't pull it off, I'd really feel like an epic failure and would probably just join a nunnery. I must have managed to not look like an asshole because I have a 95% response rate. If only I could have that kind of success on the actual dates. More to come...
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
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
SXSW, a most lovely disturbance
In preparation for the upcoming SXSW orgy of toxins, filth, and sound, I've been doing a bit of thinking about those three components, attempting to understand their delicate necessity and devise of plan of surviving each of them. I'll start with sound.
The vibration of sound is ethereal and powerful, even if quiet and subtle. There are some sounds that can take your breath away or leave you panting with excitement. A baby's first cry, the whisper in your ear "I want you," a tornado passing overhead can give you chills. Some of the most deafening sounds I've heard are silence...when the fight is over, when the last guest leaves.
As everyone knows, I live for sound and have a carefully cataloged brainfile of sounds I treasure and those I wish I had never heard. We all do I assume, though how carefully filed seems to be personal preference and aptitude for self awareness.
Mine are usually filed by emotional response. The feeling I get seems more memorable than even the sound itself. To be mentally shoved by sound requires a reaction. But, to have a vault of sounds and how they have already made me feel has proven a very useful tool. I often know whether to ignore it, run from it, or soak it up.
This makes sense because sound, by scientific definition, is a disturbance. Disturbances are memorable. Disturbances can't easily be ignored. Disturbances change you, sometimes forever. Tom Robbins, one of my favorite authors, probably said it best:
Perhaps sound carries farther across time than across space.
Looking forward to a week of music and all the ways it will make me feel, I can't help but be excited and a little scared. Being 'disturbed' for that many days in a row requires a steadiness I often lack. But, at the very least, there may not be a more comforting sound than your name being called by the friend you couldn't find at a show. That is SXSW. And it is a most lovely disturbance.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Only Allow Good
Adrenal glands are perched on top of your kidneys and primarily regulate stress: physical, emotional, and psychological. Basically, your adrenal glands manage your fight or flight response, which is something that all humans deal with all day, everyday in various intensities. You don't have to be a superhero or be running from the mafia to have your adrenal gland throw in the towel. Millions of people suffer from an overworked adrenal gland. Conventional medicine doesn't recognize this as a problem since the symptoms are rarely life threatening. I can, however, promise this issue is dreadfully serious.
My acupuncturist nailed it. She asks (about a year ago), do you have an excess of any of the following:
Alcohol
Caffeine
Sleep deprivation
Cold hands and feet
Prolonged, traumatic emotional stress
Seasonal allergies
Um, yes, check, check, and check. Now, I can't say that Texas is responsible for ALL those things. I had excesses of alcohol, caffeine, cold paws, and nightowlism long before moving here. I guess the addition of the final few culprits finally did my poor hormone machine in. The sad thing needed a break, big time. I was a nervous mess; sleepless, tormented, blotchy skinned, puffy eyed, chubby, unable to concentrate, near my wit's end.
I had to turn this around and fast. How, do you ask, does one accomplish such a thing, especially in the midst of mean people, low financial backing, and Mopac traffic? This is Texas after all...people don't help you unless all you need is to borrow a truck. I'll tell you.
Step 1: Only allow good. (May require a rather rigorous housecleaning)
Step 2: Cope with repercussions of step 1.
Step 3: Survive and begin to notice happiness fill the spots left empty by the removal of toxic stuff.
Step 4: Repeat with fine-tuned modifications.
One year in, I'm on step 4 and I haven't felt this good in ages. I've eliminated all of the major offenders except alcohol. Through a random recipe of holistic medicine and soul searching, I've managed this without a prescription, lottery winnings, or even much inconvenience. I don't even have allergies anymore! It must be a miracle because last January I was very near cedar death. I daresay I may even survive without coffee. I never thought it possible.
Why does it matter? It doesn't, really. But, if you feel like crud all the time, have a chat with your adrenal glands. They might be warning you your life sucks. They aren't going to kill you like if you mistreat your heart or lungs or brain. But they will fuck your shit up. Keep in mind they may be the only thing between you and a state correctional facility...I suggest you take them seriously and give em a break. Also, a healthy adrenal gland makes your skin glow and your sex better. Just sayin'.
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.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Cheers! Thanks a lot!
Because I won't have time tomorrow and because work is an irritating distraction from all the smells coming from my oven, writing some words of thanks to use up a unit seem appropriate.
Thank you, family! When I need you, miles and miles of distance doesn't even phase you. You make it better. Everything, you make it better.
Thank you, friends! My DC family is like a blankie I can't be without and I'm so grateful for the years I spent with you. You guys showed me what real friendship looks like and that is a rare and valuable gift. My new Texas family has been a long time coming but in the last 6 months, you have picked me up, dusted me off (or rather, dunked me in the river), and pointed me in the right direction on a path more my own. I'm not alone anymore and I'm so glad I finally found you.
I love my new home. I'm so grateful I get to be in this beautiful space everyday and call it my own. Not only is it infinitely more functional and equipped than any place I've lived before, it is also a fortress that unhappiness cannot penetrate. I'm thankful for granite countertops, closets, and surround sound. I'm thankful for my sunny sewing room. I'm thankful so many people have shared fun with me at Chez Ahrens and I'm thankful for the help I got making this place feel like home. I'm even grateful for plumbers, electricians, and Zilker event street closures. I'm especially grateful for Zilker events!
I'm somehow finally thankful for the terrible situation that got me this new home. Though swimming to shore was challenging, I'm grateful I knew when to jump ship. One must, must have gratitude for any lesson learned.
Thank you, neighbors, for not hating me. May the universe shower you with luck and happiness. I'm loud but I promise to always have whiskey and pasta on hand to make up for it. Your tolerance is a precious gift.
And, as always, I'm thankful for my sweet dog who continues to remind me that love exists. I simply cannot put into words how much she means so hopefully this will suffice: She is the dollop of homemade whipped cream on my pumpkin pie. And that's saying something.
Thank you, family! When I need you, miles and miles of distance doesn't even phase you. You make it better. Everything, you make it better.
Thank you, friends! My DC family is like a blankie I can't be without and I'm so grateful for the years I spent with you. You guys showed me what real friendship looks like and that is a rare and valuable gift. My new Texas family has been a long time coming but in the last 6 months, you have picked me up, dusted me off (or rather, dunked me in the river), and pointed me in the right direction on a path more my own. I'm not alone anymore and I'm so glad I finally found you.
I love my new home. I'm so grateful I get to be in this beautiful space everyday and call it my own. Not only is it infinitely more functional and equipped than any place I've lived before, it is also a fortress that unhappiness cannot penetrate. I'm thankful for granite countertops, closets, and surround sound. I'm thankful for my sunny sewing room. I'm thankful so many people have shared fun with me at Chez Ahrens and I'm thankful for the help I got making this place feel like home. I'm even grateful for plumbers, electricians, and Zilker event street closures. I'm especially grateful for Zilker events!
I'm somehow finally thankful for the terrible situation that got me this new home. Though swimming to shore was challenging, I'm grateful I knew when to jump ship. One must, must have gratitude for any lesson learned.
Thank you, neighbors, for not hating me. May the universe shower you with luck and happiness. I'm loud but I promise to always have whiskey and pasta on hand to make up for it. Your tolerance is a precious gift.
And, as always, I'm thankful for my sweet dog who continues to remind me that love exists. I simply cannot put into words how much she means so hopefully this will suffice: She is the dollop of homemade whipped cream on my pumpkin pie. And that's saying something.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Filth and Other Collectables
As I took the trash out this morning, I gave my usual thought to the monumental ickiness of dumpsters. I know what I throw in there and I can only imagine what else makes a grave in its stinky darkness. I'm oddly fascinated with shows about rare medical conditions and I always recall the sensationalized episode on flesh eating bacteria when I touch any trash receptacle.
I like to think I don't hang out in places where the risk of picking up a flesh eating anything is possible, short of hipster zombie parties on the East Side. However, as I walked Olive and thought harder about it (pre-coffee), I realized I am in great danger.
I am actually most likely to be found in rank dive bars, smoke-filled honky tonks, and the most vile of them all, port-a-potties at music festivals, which I even went into barefoot once, bless my filthy heart. The funniest thing is that as I was writing this, I recalled a previous entry on the same topic. Clearly, my dilusions of noble ladyship, complete with girly handkerchiefs, good posture, and Junior League membership* are out with the rubbish. It is only a matter of time before I'm hospitalized. Whiskey should kill any life-threatening germs, right?
* I don't really want to be in Junior League. While I may be filthy, I am still classy.
I like to think I don't hang out in places where the risk of picking up a flesh eating anything is possible, short of hipster zombie parties on the East Side. However, as I walked Olive and thought harder about it (pre-coffee), I realized I am in great danger.
I am actually most likely to be found in rank dive bars, smoke-filled honky tonks, and the most vile of them all, port-a-potties at music festivals, which I even went into barefoot once, bless my filthy heart. The funniest thing is that as I was writing this, I recalled a previous entry on the same topic. Clearly, my dilusions of noble ladyship, complete with girly handkerchiefs, good posture, and Junior League membership* are out with the rubbish. It is only a matter of time before I'm hospitalized. Whiskey should kill any life-threatening germs, right?
* I don't really want to be in Junior League. While I may be filthy, I am still classy.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Shy Wild
Today is my Mom's birthday. Like most women her age, she's 39. Since I wrote about Dad, I figured I better drop a line about how effing awesome she is as well.
Happy birthday, Mum! I hope your day is as rowdy, loud, fun, and special as you are!
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.
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