ProgBlogSTL

Hey You!

2008-08-03T20:09:00.001-05:00

Yeah, you. I moved. New blog. Go here, immediately. OR ELSE.

Psst...I'm coming home...

2008-08-02T00:35:00.004-05:00

Actually, I'm here. It's 12:35, we just got home, and I've never been so glad to feel the sticky humidity of St Louis. Actually, I'm a wee bit apprehensive about reentering the real world. I have things to do, namely find a job, and need to not be such a philandering lady bum. Onward!

Maybe the best part about coming home was finding two weeks worth of mail stacked up. And at the beginning of the month, meaning I came home to the latest issues of Bust, ReadyMade, and Saveur. I also got a package containing this shirt I won on Tweet2Win.com, and the latest in a line of recycled bags made by Act2GreenSmart, which are ultra eco, functional, and cute. I'll be writing those up somewhere on the GreenOptions network this week.

So, I plan on getting back in the STL swing of things by hitting up the Tower Grove Farmers Market tomorrow morning, then cleaning and spending some time with WordPress. Blogging changes afoot. All my lady friends are gone having a girls weekend--the thought of traveling more after getting home so late tonight just about put me over the edge, so I had to decline our annual sleepover in Piedmont--but I'll have time to recap my trip, as long as my lack of tech skills doesn't force me into a panic attack. And, of course, the job hunt. So come on back. I didn't mean to leave you out in the cold. It was the WiFi, the WiFi (or lack thereof) I tell ya'.

Greetings!

2008-07-28T12:24:00.002-05:00

We had spotty internet connection while in DC, and I have to sit on the deck of this lodge here in northern Minnesota to get a decent connection. In all honesty, why would I be blogging when I could be drinking beer in kayaks with my brother, which is what I'm about to go do. The weather is absolutely gorgeous, the lake is beautiful, I've got trashy magazines and Fat Tire. So, you won't hear from me that much, if at all, until next week. But changes are afoot. So don't quit me just yet. Just hate me for being on an incredible vacation.

Off to those aforementioned kayaks...

Gone Fishin'

2008-07-20T21:55:00.002-05:00

Right now, Chris is in the shower and I'm getting all the final ducks in a row for our two-week trip that begins today. We're off to Washington DC for one of my classes; this one is on federal policymaking. I'm excited--we're meeting with congresspeople, lobbyists, congressional staffers, NGOs, and visiting two museums (Holocaust Museum and the Newseum), the Library of Congress, and the Supreme Court. We're meeting a Holocaust survivor, as well. Our days are pretty packed, but we will hopefully have some time at night to do the touristy-monumenty stuff as well. The best part is that my professor, who is also my advisor, is letting Chris come along for everything. We're staying with our good friends, the lovely Charlie and Kim, who are aiding us in saving a few (read: shitload) bucks by opening up their futon to us.

We're there until Saturday, when we fly to Minneapolis. My brother and his girlfriend will pick us up at the airport and we're heading to Black Duck Lake in northern MN for a week at a lake house with my family. My family hasn't taken a family vacation that didn't involve a soccer tournament since before I could drive. Now that we can all drink together legally, it should be a good time. I plan on doing not much but reading for fun, solving Sudoku puzzles, and writing. And getting a tan. And fishing. Or watching other people fish. But eating fish. Definitely eating fish.

Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. Chris started blogging again, and if you're a pinko hippie like me, you might like to read his politically-themed blog. He wrote about soldiers coming home after tours in Iraq. I think he's the bee's knees. Give him some clicks.

Gone Fishin'

2008-07-20T21:55:00.000-05:00

R.I.P. Finger Nub

2008-07-19T15:18:00.004-05:00

When I met Chris, he had a little callous, a bump, if you will, on his right index finger. He had it for many years.

This spring, Chris starting teaching himself how to play slap guitar. I heard this Andy McKee song approximately seven thousand times.

All of this stimulation made this negligible bump grow. So much so, that when Chris came to see me in Minnesota, it looked like this:

This is not a very good picture, nor does it truly demonstrate how big the "nub" got. It started to take on a life of its own. It looked like a little alien being birthed out of the flesh of Chris's finger.

I was afraid he would accidentally rip it off, spewing undoubtedly noxious nub juice, pus, and blood, all over me, probably into my mouth and nose. That would be the grossest thing ever. Consequently, the sight of the thing grossed me out, and Chris knew it. There are very few things as disturbing as watching Twin Peaks eps on your couch and feeling a fleshy, mutant nub stroking your thigh. But this happened to me. Twice. No wonder I'm slightly odd.

Finally, Chris paid a visit to the dermatologist, who shot the finger up with lidocaine, then dug that sumbitch out, leaving Chris with a small hole on his fingertip. It looks like this:

Sexy.

This Aggression Will Not Stand...

2008-07-17T20:43:00.003-05:00

While watching Last Comic Standing, the last female contestant had a bit about butch lesbian P.E. teachers. At commercial, Chris said, "Oh, hell yeah, our P.E. teacher was a lesbian."

"Me too!" I said. Then I reminisced on the ghastly elementary gym experience that was Ms. Bonnie Bell.

Yes, lip gloss fanatics, my P.E. teacher's name was Bonnie Bell.

Bonnie Bell was a 5'2" slim, greyish blonde Walter-Sobcheck-meets-Mary Martin that took her job way too seriously. She even had those tinted glasses so you couldn't see her eyes.

At Garton Elementary on the East Side of Des Moines, Iowa, when your homeroom teacher took you to PE twice a week, you were expected to sit in your assigned seat. We had designated rows with designated seats that rotated periodically. Ms. Bell was prone to making a late entrance, like pressing matters existed for her outside the gymnasium, a P.E. G8 summit that kept her a few minutes past the bell. She would stroll in, deliberately nonchalant, twirling her massive keychain. She'd lean against the wall that we all faced, sitting cross-legged and quiet.

Then she's start calling eight-year-olds out like a Maury Povich paternity test.

"Respect." Pause. "Apparently some people in here feel it necessary to socialize with classmates that are not seated near them. Apparently shouting across the room is acceptable gymnasium behavior. Apparently 'respect' is not something they see as acceptable gymnasium behavior."

Everyone would look down at their hands, nervously twisting in their laps. They dared not make eye contact as it may somehow lock them in as the culprit. Then she'd use the old proximity tactic. She would walk slowly around the gym, stopping by whoever she deemed was plotting an anarchist revolution. She would stop by you and you wouldn't look up, instead staring at her navy blue Roo's. She had posters of words, a foot and a half high, on the walls with behavioral words, words like "respect" and "responsibility".

"Kelli Best is choosing not to 'respect' when she yells across the room at her classmate." The class would sigh a collective sigh, out of the line of fire. Then, Ms. Bell would throw out the curveball.

"Kyle Wilkinson thinks it's okay to socialize across the room with Kelli. Hallway."

25 eight-year-olds hum the familiar "Ummmmmmmmmmmmm!!!" of someone being disciplined.

In the hallway, Kyle and I both protest and, almost immediately, turn on each other.

"He was making fun of my hair," I say.

"Kyle," Ms. Bell said. "Just because Kelli's hair is out of style right now, doesn't mean that in ten years, people will get perms again."

First of all, this is NOT a perm, motherfucker. Take one look at Big Ed and you will know that a bitch did not sit under a dryer with some spiral rods since age three. Do I look like a pageant kid? No, I look like an alien fucked a q-tip. So not a perm. Second, it is 1988. Don't tell me there aren't a million ladies out there getting perms. Third of all, aren't you supposed to refrain from making fun of eight-year-olds in passive-aggressive ways? Like, isn't that the first thing they teach you in teacher school? Fourth, is this Peter Pan-looking bitch really trying to flip the switch like that? You have a bowl-cut and a quilted sweatsuit. Fuck no.

Then it hits me. This bitch just straight doesn't like me. I'd never really noticed an adult show complete contempt for me. Most adults have to fake it.

Long story short, this bitch gave me Cs constantly through elementary school. I got Cs in elementary school gym class. Who does that? My ass played four years of college soccer and she gave me the only Cs I ever got in elementary school.

So, yeah, I had that gym teacher.

Vroom.

2008-07-17T14:35:00.004-05:00

Of note:

1) While walking Asher yesterday, two pre-pubescent girls were riding around the neighborhood on a four-wheeler, an honest-to-god, ride-on-trails-in-the-country four-wheeler. A) Who was supervising these girls? B)Can you ride full-sized four-wheelers on the sidewalk in the city? Keeping it hoosh in Epiphany Parish.

2) Three places to whom you should give your dining bidness in STL: Stellina Pasta Cafe, The Pitted Olive, and Niche. Through the good fortune of recently celebrating my birthday, I dined at all three in the past week. All three have insanely delicious food and are run by truly outstanding people who understand what friendly, attentive service is all about. I don't think there are nicer people out there in the restaurant business in STL than Mike and Melissa Holmes at the Pitted Olive. Every time I go there, Mike himself asks about our meal. Stellina is just a few blocks from our house, and it's been wonderful to see a cafe flourish in our neighborhood (and have a non-chain place to grab a latte). I had a lovely lunch there today with this lady. Niche, well, Niche speaks for itself. Truly a dining experience worth every penny. If my bar-and-grill loving, white-tablecloth hating husband can inquire as to when our next special occasion is so we can return, right after proclaiming Mathew Rice's infamous semifreddo s'mores dessert "the best dessert I've ever had", well, you have done me a bigger favor than you know, Gerard Craft.

3. Not going to BlogHer, unlike practically every other lady blogger in STL (boooooo), but I am going to DC on Monday for a week-long class on federal policymaking. The whole thing is hands-on, Capitol Hill-schmoozing, which will be cool, but the more I read about the behind-the-scenes action in DC, the more BS I think it is. Maybe this trip will change my mind, maybe I will take my hippie ass to Canada. Who knows? After DC, we're going straight to Minnesota, where we're spending the week at a lake house with my family. Upon my arrival back home on August 1, I will panic that I am still unemployed. You may or may not see me bartending at the Hideaway. Bitch got bills, bills, bills.

4. Not to mention a broken air conditioner. I'm not going to even go into how pissed I am about this. We're afraid to even call someone to come look, since when my good friend's AC shelled out, it was like 2Gs. As AI can attest, it's not too bad in our house, particularly in the basement, but I'll be damned if I start sweating the minute I get out the shower.

Things to twist panties about, probably tomorrow: RFT's Cougar article, The Dark Knight, Project Runway, what shows I want to go to (The Pageant just puked up my iPod on shuffle), the election.

Two Degrees

2008-07-12T01:28:00.003-05:00

I'm in Chicago at my lovely friend/former soccer teammate/former roommate JP's bachelorette weekend. We ate some sushi and drank some beers. This information is irrelevant in light of other information I gathered while at dinner.

I made a passing comment earlier about how my brother's girlfriend's parents' names were Jim and Cindy ala 90210 Walsh style. This prompted my old friend Ashley, whom I've known since my very first day in college when she lived two doors down from me on the third floor of Ryle Hall, to say, "Speaking of 90210..."

Long story short, via her good friend's boyfriend, Ashley has partied on multiple occasions, with Ian Ziering, i.e. Steve Sanders from 90210.

"Bullshit," I say.

"Call him," she says, whipping out her phone, sporting a 323 area code.

You're telling me that I can prank call Steve Sanders if I so desire? Seriously?

"Do you know Mike 'The Miz'?" she says.

"Um, durr," I reply.

"I met him, too."

"So you're telling me that not only have I cut my Real World degrees of separation to TWO, but my 90210 degrees of separation?"

"Yeah."

She's acting casual as a motherfucker. What?

So right now, as I type this, we're chilling at JP's condo in Lincoln Park, watching TLC, and I'm looking at pictures of my old pal with Ian Ziering at a Cardinals game. Not just a pose-with-a-fan picture, but several chilling-all-night pictures. Motherfucker was on Dancing With The Stars and you didn't text me immediately when you were with him at Paddy-O's? Proof positive.

Locked and Loaded, Dad

2008-07-10T17:56:00.001-05:00

What the fuck is up with this commercial?

Is the courtroom in heaven? This thing is an instant classic.

Hot or Not

2008-07-08T17:05:00.004-05:00

Briefly, Things That Are Awesome:

1. Going to Niche for my birthday dinner with Chris tomorrow, then to the Muny. I've never been to the Muny, but I've been to Niche before (also for my birthday) and hopefully I won't lick the plate and embarrass myself in front of those fancy pants people.

2. Lush reissued Potion Lotion, which I purchased today.

3. The movie War Dance. A hopeful, beautiful, moving documentary following school children living in a refugee camp in Uganda who are competing in a national music competition. Get thee to your Netflix queue.

Briefly, Things That Are Not Awesome

1. Clothes shopping. Ugh. I feel like such an idiot. Will someone tell retailers everywhere to rid themselves of fluorescent lights in fitting rooms. They'd sell a lot more clothes.

2. The humidity of St Louis. But I don't have to tell you that.

3. Lady cramps. Sorry.

4th of July, Iowa-Style

2008-07-07T16:43:00.004-05:00

I am back from Iowa, and I'm still recovering. This is due to:

1. Practically non-stop drinking. Both brothers work in the alcohol industry, three major parties and a concert. You tell me.

2. Lips show rocked my face off. Mad props to the organizers of 80/35. It was a really nice festival. Des Moines is much hipper than it used to be. I can't imagine an event like this happening while I was living there. Also saw Andrew Bird, who was awesome.

3. Other than aforementioned concert, every party I went to--two 4th parties and my mom's 50th birthday bash, played almost continuous country music. No one thought this was odd except Chris and me.

4. Two words: Lee Greenwood.

Big Ed put up a darn near circus tent in the backyard for my mom's party. I half thought he was going to walk a tightrope. My parents own more red, white, and blue serving platters than is necessary for any ten households, let alone one.

My parents also bought me a shirt with this guy on it:

which you wouldn't understand unless you grew up in Des Moines during the 80s or earlier.

On tap for this week: I turn 28, JP's bachelorette party in Chicago, writing a paper on Curriculum and Ideology, pontificating.

On The Road Again...

2008-07-02T21:37:00.002-05:00

Didn't I just get back from a two-week road trip? I'm fairly certain I'll be gone more this summer than I'll be around.

Thursday we're heading to Des Moines, my hometown, for our family's traditional Fourth of July celebration. The 4th is my mom's birthday, this year the big 5-0, and we probably have more beloved family traditions around the 4th than any other holiday, other than the traditional Talk-Shit-On-Hoosier-Family-After-Christmas-Car-Ride-Home, which is equally awesome in a different way.

No, the 4th is all about Americana. As in, my parents live in a creatively-titled suburb called Urbandale. Think "Little Boxes", but smaller houses than Agrestic. Agrestic's homely younger sister fifteen years ago. Our traditions involve the annual parade, fireworks, and barbeque. My dad and his buddy Tim stake out the area in front of the old library, where they set up tents, chairs, and start making lip-burning bloody marys, which we drink copiously during the parade. Although fifteen years ago, I may have fought small children for candy thrown from floats, but I'm giving that up this year. Instead, I'll have both hands free for bloody marys, washers, hoosier golf, and smacking my brothers when they yell at my former boyfriends and point at me, which they still do. Other things of note at the parade: people watching, endless floats of little league teams, hopefully Shriners on go-carts, baton-twirlers, carnies, insult-hurling, and cadging for bathrooms after copious bloody marys.

After the parade, we go to Tim's house where our two families, plus whoever else shows up, will grill, eat, drink beer, and play in a huge bocce tournament. This is also where I will catch up on gossip from neighborhood moms, grit my teeth and grin and make it sound okay that I'm currently unemployed when people ask. This will all culminate with some type of shenanigans with my brothers and their friends and then fireworks. Saturday is the big 50th party for my mom. Good times.

Okay, off to pack up the car, take Asher to Chris's mom's, and get on the road. Happy 4th, America. I'm glad you were born. Now pick on someone your own size.

Ten Thousand Thumbs Down

2008-07-01T20:14:00.006-05:00

The other day Chris and I were getting movies at Blockbuster. They didn't have what we wanted, really, so we weren't very enthusiastic about our choices. We usually get three, and I told him just to pick one that he wanted to see because I didn't want to argue about our third pick.

He picked 10,000 B.C

"I heard the special effects were good."

Sweet Jesus.

The chick at Blockbuster said, "Yeah, some movies are like awesome bad." Pause. Blink.

After drinking two glasses of Pinot Greezsh to, you know, get in the mood, we set out to watch this piece of shit.

Here's the plot, which can succinctly be summarized in this brief outline:

1. Dreadlocked mother-fers live in cold dirty village, which is pillaged by dudes on horseback.

2. Hot white chick gets kidnapped; local hot and white (but cowardly) dude vows to save her, her cherry, and his people.

3.They pick up some vaguely African black dudes and go fight some vaguely Middle Eastern dudes who claim to be descendants of Atlantis survivors (?).

4.They triumphantly defeat Atlantis survivors et al, largely due to:
a. ability to harness power of woolly mammoths
b. long-distance spear throwing
c. Orion-shaped scar on hot white chick's wrist (again, ?).
d. Crusty, old slave owners and their four-inch-long Advanced
Nail Tech claws

5. Local hot and white (now brave liberating warrior) dude and REVIVED FROM THE DEAD hot white chick return to dirty village and happily make cave babies.

Like I said: piece of shit.

First of all, these motherf-ers spoke English. But the white dudes had a vaguely Euro accent, the black dudes had vaguely African accents (or spoke made-up language), and the bad guys (i.e. the swarthy Middle Eastern dudes) spoke with vaguely Middle Eastern accents. Please. You seriously made the white dude the hero, the black dudes the trusty sidekicks, and the brown dudes the enemies? And they all live within walking distance of each other? Is this 10,000 B.C.: Epcot? If you're going to be completely random, inaccurate, and arbitrary with your attention to historical detail, can you not be so ridiculously stereotypical with your choice of character race?

Sigh.

THEN, hot white chick had some hot white chicklet teeth. For real, her prized possession was a necklace made of bone and she was eating dried woolly mammoth non stop. You expect me to believe this chick had some Whitestrips? And, as a slave, she had time to rock a thick eyeliner?

Oh, and the dreadlocks? I felt like I was at Wakarusa again. They just looked so obviously fake and ridiculous, just like hot white chick's "sexy" indigenous clothing. You're making that sabertooth skin look fierce, girl, Betty Rubble-style.

Did I mention that the humans fight dinosaurs/killer birds? And make friends with the sabertooth tigers?

I couldn't even watch it in one sitting. It was that shitty.

Like Cutting Off My Arm...

2008-06-28T10:22:00.002-05:00

Chris and I left Minneapolis at 4PM on Thursday and drove home, arriving in the stifling humidity of STL just before 2AM. We stopped several times for gas, food at the Clear Lake, Iowa Bennigan's (where a hoosier in Harley gear pontificated racist, homophobic, sexist ramblings so the entire restaurant could hear), Red Bulls, and bathrooms to accomodate my pea-sized bladder.

I threw a tiny hissy when I found out them internets weren't working. I NEED INTERNETS! Chris spent half the day on the phone with SBC, who claimed several times that they either needed to fix something on their end OR come out and do something to some wires outside. Long story short, this motherfucker rolls up in here this morning at 8:30 AM only to tell us that, yeah, the office needs to fix it, so it can't be done until Monday, even though they could have done that yesterday. No internet until Monday? Huh? Um, what am I supposed to do? I guess sit here at Hartford after visiting the farmers market and try to cram in all I need to do in one sitting. Ain't happening. Just catching up on Twitter takes too long.

So, I spent yesterday pissed about the internet, napping, watching "Super High Me" (which is funny. Seriously, it's really funny--Doug Benson smokes no pot for 30 days, then smokes constantly for 30 days. Sounds lame, but is hilarious), then drinking cheap beer at Harry's with my friends, whom I missed immensely.

If I get the net fixed, I will be started MAJOR! BLOG! OVERHAUL! next week. I'm a big girl now. Also, will more than likely be attending the St Louis Bloggers Guild meetup tonight at Atomic Cowboy with this bitch. Okay, I must sign off before I'm here all day. Gotta pick up some things to eat at Local Harvest. Then I'm going to READ FOR FUN! What is that? I don't know for sure, but I think it involves David Sedaris and this month's Paste.

See you when my shit gets fixed.

Intellectual Adventures

2008-06-19T21:52:00.003-05:00

Well, my goal to post frequently while I'm here in the Twin Cities has not been fulfilled, as after five hours of critical theory every day, I'm intellectually exhausted. All I really seem to be able to do is check Twitter feeds, watch Iron Chef, and stare at the reading I have to do and pretend that I'm actually comprehending it.

Class has been really great, and hopefully I'll write about that later. I had a great meal with friends from school last night at this delicious restaurant located in the very cool Uptown neighborhood, which Chris and I will be exploring next week with cameras in tow. My fortune cookie said, "You're going to meet someone new and interesting.Unfortunately, he'll be your new meth dealer." Really? I can't say I'm sad to be out of the St Louis heat; the weather here really hasn't been over 80, and people are out and about everywhere in this great city.

Speaking of, Chris is on his way up tomorrow, and I can't wait. Really, seriously, sappily, I don't sleep well at all unless he is next to me, and he's my partner in crime, so things are much more fun when he is around. We've plans to camp Saturday and Sunday and bike a bunch, assuming the bikes don't fall off the car between here and the Lou. Then, more class next week and bumming around the city before and after.

Ooh, I missed something exciting, but sad, last night at home. Our neighbor across the street's house burned down (yes, that neighbor, if you were at last year's Trivia Night). Well, it didn't burn down, per se, but the entire inside burned up and it's all boarded up. That sucks pretty hard.

Also, while I've been here I've been posting to this Flickr group called "A Day In The Life", started by Dana. Here's two of my photos. One is my crap spread out on my guest bedroom bed. The other is Elijah, my host's dog, who looks like Sprocket from Fraggle Rock. Check out everyone else's pix if you so desire.

Adventures! The Sequel!

2008-06-16T08:20:00.004-05:00

I am sitting in a Panera (what people outside of STL call Bread Co, unless you are my mom, who calls in "Paneras") in downtown Minneapolis, catching up on e-mail, news, Twitter, etc. I feel dirty and I'm sore all over, which could either be from playing tennis and riding bikes yesterday or spending 16 hours on two buses last night. I mean, either or.

Let me say this about Megabus: it got me here safely, cheaply, and probably much quicker than Amtrak ever could. As previously mentioned, it cost me $50 from St Louis to Minneapolis by way of Chicago, and I didn't get my tickets until a few days before I left. Had this been my plan all along, it very well may have been cheaper. And, although the first bus from Chicago arrived about 20 minutes late, and my bus to Minneapolis departed over an hour late, I only arrived in Minneapolis about 30 minutes behind schedule. As anyone who has traveled Amtrak west of New York knows, that's not bad compared to the train, whose schedule depends on freight trains on the rails, who have priority over passenger trains. A train ticket would have cost $180, and a plane ticket was going to be $500. Screw that, I'm about to be unemployed (Hire me!). Megabus it is.

So, I boarded the first bus right outside of Union Station in Missouri. All you do is stow your luggage in the luggage compartment, then show your reservation number to the bus driver. No ID, no boarding pass. The seats are about the size of airline seats, with no overhead compartments. This is where Megabus lags behind Amtrak. Amtrak is much more comfortable, with seats with foot rests and room to maneuver. I was wedged next to a pasty guy reading a book on trivia. Surprisingly, I was able to read the entire Sunday Times without infringing on his personal space. There was one half-hour stop, where I stretched my legs, bought some coffee, and called Chris. I felt uncomfortable using my phone on the bus, because the sound acoustics made it seem really annoying, although the college girl talking about absolutely nothing, really loudly, for two hours didn't seem to mind. My iPod did me a solid and didn't run out of batteries the entire time, despite the fact I was playing Solitaire. The bus was clean, too. Did I mention the buses are double-decker? The best seat in the house has to be in front of the top deck, with a panoramic view of the road, but those seats go to the first in line, which, alas, was not me.

I was hoping that the overnight Megabus from Chicago to Minneapolis would be less crowded, so I could have two seats to myself so I could sleep. I generally have good luck with these arrangements. Once, when flying home from Germany, I had TWO empty seats next to me. Took two Benadryl and was assed out until the flight attendant woke with with hot moist towlettes (which sound dirtier than they are. They're actually quite refreshing). As the pushing hordes of people can attest, this bus was sold out. As in, no empty seats whatsoever and people pushing their way on like it's Mumbai or something. I ended up sitting at one of those table seats, where two rows face each other with a table in between. This was incredibly uncomfortable, and I had the shortest legs of anyone at my table. I probably got five hours of sleep (thanks, Tylenol PM!) which will inevitably hit me a hour into my first class, alienating me from my classmates and professor. Oh, wait, probably my disheveled appearance, musty smell, and furry teeth will alienate me. Anyway, I swear on my life some motherfucker was smoking pot on the bus. First I thought it was a skunk. Then I realized it was skunk. That's some bold shit right there. There was also a screaming baby and a dude snoring worse than my Grandma Best, and she can saw some logs. Again, thanks to iPod, I listened to a This American Life about proms and Drive By Truckers until I woke up in the morning.

All in all, I would recommend Megabus to anyone with time on their hands who wants to save money. Would I do it with kids? Not on a sold-out bus. But if you want to get somewhere for cheap in a relatively timely fashion, it's worth it. St Louisians--I would highly recommend this option over taking the train to Chicago. Cheaper and faster. You sacrifice comfort, but what do you expect for $50?

I also took pictures, but only with my Holga, because it seemed appropriate, so you won't see them for a long, long time.

Okay, I'm going to finish some reading of the internets, then go to campus and clean up, because I'm not trying to spend my entire first class paranoid that my lady parts are not-so-fresh or my breath is stank.

Oh yeah, read this. Those darn homosexuals, tarnishing the sanctity of marriage. My ass. We should all pray that any couple that makes it 55 years together should be allowed to publicly and legally be allowed to commit to each other. As long as the Britney Spears and Pamela Andersons of the world are getting married and divorced with the seasons, don't talk to me about the "sanctity" of marriage.

Adventures! Part One

2008-06-15T13:39:00.002-05:00

In three hours, I will be on a bus to Chicago. Then a bus to Minneapolis. I'll get there at 6:30 tomorrow morning. All for the bargain price of $50. You can't buy a tank of gas for that noise. Should be a little adventure, considering I'll be bumming around Minneapolis with my backpacking backpack in the wee hours and who knows what kind of characters I'll encounter on an overnight bus. I've got two cameras, digital and Holga, to document the sitch. Hopefully digital updates tomorrow after my class.

The class I'm taking is the first in my critical pegagogy sequence, which is my second collateral area or "major" in my program. The other is public policy, which I've already taken one class and will take another when we go to DC in July. It's pretty radical, literally, not in the Ninja Turtles usage.

I'll leave you with the mental image of Chris and I locking ourself out of the house yesterday and Chris coaxing Asher (95 pounds of black lab) to unlock the back door deadbolt. Swear it happened. I saw it with my own two eyes. My dog is a genius.

This Week's Sign That The Apocalypse Is Upon Us...

2008-06-12T15:58:00.002-05:00

Oh for fuck's sake...
.

I'm not drinking right now, so I don't have the time to tell you why all this is wrong. Maybe after this paper is done and I slam two Pale Ales.

Motherfuckers. Keep lowering the standards of discourse and the the IQs of Americans, Faux News.

These Days...

2008-06-12T12:35:00.002-05:00

...I'm procrastinating writing my three summaries that are due today for my critical pedagogy class that starts Monday in Minneapolis. I will be in the Twin Cities for the next two weeks. Should be a nice little radical adventure, as the class is about as leftist in theory as you can get, and I'm taking the overnight Megabus to get there. For $50, I ain't complaining. That's one mofo tank of gas these days. Should be able to blog a lot from up there, probably about what I'm reading, which should at best inspire discussion and at worst piss some people off.

So, I'm at Hartford bumming their free WiFi, drinking an iced coffee, working on the second of nine pages, and listening to this awesome song that I heard live twice this week. It's Mates of State covering Nico's "These Days". Did you know Kori Gardner is a mother who blogs? Her recent entry is about being on Yo Gabba Gabba. I heart her as she is totally adorable and kickass.

What A Long Strange Trip...

2008-06-08T18:21:00.004-05:00

I am back and showered from the Wakarusa Music Festival, held annually outside of Lawrence, KS. This was our second year going, and I really enjoy myself there for
several reasons.

One: The bands. In two days, we caught sets by Mates of State, Arrested Development, Pete Francis (of Dispatch), Blackalicious, The Flaming Lips, State Radio, Brett Dennen, the Old '97s, and Ben Folds. I have few complaints about any of them. Mates of State were so good that I went to the Bluebird to see them last night with two of my gal pals. Flaming Lips put on an unbelievably entertaining show. Wolverine entertained himself by committing to keeping balloons aloft. Hearing Arrested Development play "Everday" took me back to 8th grade. Brett Dennen made fun of really dirty hippies without them realizing it, solidifying his awesomeness.

Two: I'm nowhere near the dirtiest hippie there. Really, I've got nothing on most of these people. Which, if you can ignore the stench of patchouli (which I only smelled three or so times, exponentially less than the smell of vomit and weed) is awesome because it means you can wear whatever the hell you want and you will probably not be anything out of the ordinary. My hair, after not showering for a few days in the hot sun, looked like Felicia from Friday, but no worries. Slap on a bandanna and my hair still looks better than a balding man with shitlocks. I debated taking the plunge and buying a straight-up hippie dress (yeah, THOSE dresses in the window at Sunshine Daydream) but thought better. So serious, we saw dozens and dozens of people dressed exactly like our front-porch mannequin. See all those girls just walking around all day in bikinis? Yeah, well, at least they have a top, which is more than I can say for the lady with her boobies painted like fairy wings sitting behind us last night.

Three: Proximity to awesomeness. We had several encounters with musicians--Chris got his picture taken with my hair twin, Chad from State Radio, and we saw many artists checking out other sets. We were also able to stand fairly close if we wanted to, or set up chairs and chill at a reasonable distance.

Four: Wakarusa is the perfect size: big enough to attract big names, but small enough to minimize the hordes of assholes. I couldn't deal with a biggest festival. I'd have a panic attack but no one would know because I'd probably look just like numerous shroom-takers or other nutsos freaking out.

Five: The weather was really good, considering it was Kansas in June. They cancelled the shows on Thursday night and advised campers to leave the campgrounds because of a tornado warning, but Friday was all sunshine and high 70s. Saturday was hot, but really, really windy and partially cloudy, which mitigated the heat, although I got a crispy burn around my neck and face. I put on sunscreen, but since I got my face rocked off, it didn't work, I guess. We had a fat little camping set up, complete with cabana and sleeping tent, which kept us comfortable while we played dominoes and pontificated on the shows.

Six: People watching. Sweet Jesus, it's awesome. First of all, you've got to estimate that approximately 25% of all patrons of music festivals are downright weirdos. Easily. Couple that with the fact that 75% are under the influence of alcohol and/or drugs, and you're bound to see some awesomeness. One of my favorite things to watch is white guys dancing. Because they don't very often, in my realm of existence, and they do in mass numbers here. It is usually Advanced.

My favorite person I saw the whole weekend was a middle-aged dude in acid-washed jeans, a tye-dyed Chiefs t-shirt, and a fat mustache that made me ask, "Developmentally delayed, or just on meth?" No joke, this guy danced like a four-year-old girl in a field of puppies and unicorns. It was so great. I also like to watch People In Bands I Don't Know, who are wearing jeans, a turtleneck, and a stocking hat in June, in Kansas. Or Chicks With Bands I Don't Know, who wear stiletto heels. At a festival. Where it rained for the previous two days. Hey look! It's Guy Who Sells Polished Crystals! Over there! It's Girl Panhandling Money For A Ride Back To Maryland! (How the fuck did you get here?) Oh, snap, it's my nemesis: Dude With An Earth Tattoo Who Can't Be Bothered To Recycle His Pilfered High Life Can . I also saw several Dudes Carrying Around Skateboards, even though we're IN A FIELD SURROUNDED BY GRAVEL ROADS. Seriously, there's one main paved road, and cars and golf carts pretty much have the monopoly on that.

Seven (and this is really just for like, two people who read this. You know who you are.): Guess who I saw at Wakarusa and had to walk really fast in the other direction on the off chance that this person recognized me? Sterling Brown, AKA Big Sterl. Seriously, I almost called Hawaii to tell Missy that I saw her ex.

Anyway, here are some of the pictures from the festival. Chris took most of them.

Start Your Morning Right

2008-06-04T10:11:00.002-05:00

You mean, everyone else didn't just get up at 9:45? My bad.

Here's a video of David Sedaris's appearance on The Daily Show. Oh, to have his acerbic wit. I had a picture of him on my bulletin board over my desk because I heart him.

Hopefully, a post about trivia later.

Sex...

2008-06-03T15:20:00.003-05:00

After a long weekend of drinking and celebrating the arrival of summer, five girls (and one guy) set off to see a movie about four friends (and many guys). Like almost all girls who were in college or in their 20s in the early part of the century, we'd all seen every episode, many times, usually while battling a hangover on lazy college Sundays when the only energy you can muster is to go get a Gatorade and a Totinos. While waiting for Sex and the City to start, I asked myself, "After four years, have my feelings towards these gals changed, since I myself am not the same?"

Really, I didn't ask myself that. I just wanted to start this post off with a stupid rhetorical question in honor of Carrie Bradshaw.

However, I did go catch the flick on Sunday after spending much of the day in the Tower Grove sun for the SKA Tournament of Champions. We did crappy, winning our first game but losing our second. Anyway, we headed to the Chase at around 7, but it was sold out. You would not believe the amount of dressed up ladies in heels and cocktail dresses out to see this movie. It was like Laguna Beach Prom, 2005. We ended up driving to Frontenac and getting in there.

I could say a lot of bad things about SATC. I could talk about how there's seldom any characters of color (although Jennifer Hudson was lovely in the movie) and how these woman have a crazy amount of disposable income and are incredibly materialistic, how most of us would have kicked Big to the curb long ago, etc., etc., etc. But do people ever deconstruct male-oriented summer blockbusters? Nobody said shit about the ridonkulousness of the mere existence of Indy 4. So, I'm not going to talk about what's culturally wrong with SATC and instead, talk about why I did like it.

Well, first of all, I must say it was nice to revisit characters that I spent a lot of time with when I was coming of age. There were several nice shout-outs for those who have seen every episode several times over--they didn't forget the canon already established, which I can appreciate. Also, I think women of a certain age all relate to the women of the show in one way or the other (although, everyone thinks they're Carrie. Let me tell you something: you probably aren't). And the movie was funny. I definitely laughed out loud several times, including at the full peen shot. But mostly, what I liked about this movie is that it's a movie about friendships. Despite the Manhattan lifestyle that my friends and I can't relate to, at its core, this is a movie about women who are fiercely loyal to each other, and that is something to celebrate.

I spent the weekend with my best friends having really, really wonderful times, times that reaffirm why you are friends with people. Christine threw Shannon an amazing backyard barbeque on Thursday with delicious food (it's awesome to have a friend in culinary school) and lots of wine, and we ate, drank, toasted, and laughed until the wee hours. Here's my lady friends and me. We might wear Chucks instead of Manolos, but our friendship is just as priceless.

Apology

2008-05-30T10:18:00.002-05:00

Dear Neighbors--
Just wanted to apologize for the disturbance this morning. We were up really late watching the season finale of Lost on Tivo and planning for our upcoming Backyard Trivia Night. Really late. So late that both of us had Lost-themed dreams that were, well, quite disturbing and frighteningly real.

So when our SLPD-approved Club inadvertently depressed our car horn this morning for a good hour, we were so tired and dead to the world in our cocoon of a bedroom that we could not hear it! Luckily, the nice policewoman that you called knocked hard enough on our door that we jumped right up to remedy the situation, quite embarrassed, I might add. Thanks, Officer!

I hope this encounter doesn't persuade you to call the cops during Trivia tomorrow night. I promise to keep the debauchery to a relative minimum.

Thanks,
Your neighbors.

Don't Forget

2008-05-26T21:37:00.002-05:00

The Third Semi-Annual Backyard Trivia Night is this Saturday. Deets here. We've been working on categories and some entertainment (don't get your hopes up, it's not Ali Baba)and I think it's going to be a good time. You should come.

Some notes: it's ten bones a head, which includes as much beer as two kegs will get ya. You are welcome to bring your own alternative beverage, but I'm still taking your money. You can win it back. Also, please bring your own chairs and tables. Normally we finagle chairs and tables from Standard Travel, but because Sunday is the SKA Tournament of Champions, we don't want to mess with hauling tables and chairs Sunday.

All are welcome, even if you are my virtual friend and we haven't met. Please, e-mail me OR comment if you for sure have a four or five-person team on lock. We just want to get a general idea of the amount of people, in case this goes into three-keg or one-keg territory, which I doubt will happen, but you never know. If you have your team name, please leave that, as well. Let the shit-talking commence.