Amazing skies are here again!

Hurrah!

The seeds are oh-so-carefully being sown for Summer's arrival in the ATL!

It's getting darker later, resulting in impressive sky displays that I am taking crappy pictures of using my cameraphone on the way home from work. To wit:

Pretty sure this one was from last night:

Amazing cloud patterns from last week:
This was Monday night:
Last night, again, but I liked the blurriness:
Uh, okay, maybe I went a little overboard last night. But look at the reflection of the sun on the clouds!!

I loves me some Mother Nature! Rejoice!

Oh dear sweet Lord.

So two nights ago, I noticed a bit of a whiff of something not-so-pleasant smelling in my kitchen. Thinking maybe I didn't properly rinse something down the drain, I put some bleach in the sinks and didn't think too much more about it.

Well, last night I get home and the whiff is now definitely a stink. And it ain't good. I can't determine a point of origin, so I rebleach the sinks and throughly clean out the kitchen bin thinking that I'm covering both places that a STRONG PONG! would come from.

And then now. Today. Wednesday. I'm talking to a couple of colleagues at the office when I am inexplicably struck with the mind-blowing relevation that I microwaved cauliflower on Sunday. AND COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT IT.

It's been in there for three fucking days. Stewing. Rotting. Growing. Part of me wants to race home right now and deal with it and part of me never wants to go home again.

Can you imagine the unholy stench that is going to hit me when I open that door?

I'm scared.

I'm awesome!!!

Remember when I overexerted my quads in a bodysculpting class last year and I had to use the handicap stall for like a week? No? Well, take a stroooooll down memory lane if you like!

Anyway, this weekend I went for two brisk walks with Lu and while nowhere near the level of intensity from last year's fiasco, my legs are kind of sore today. Like when I have been sitting for a while and get up to go somewhere, I have to concentrate on walking normally. It feels a bit like I am an underoiled tinman and my legs are going clackety clack. Not from running, mind you, but from walking. WALKING. Two brisk walks, one Saturday and one Sunday.

In my defense, however, my neighbourhood is rather hilly. In spots.

Damned if you do, damned if you don't

I present to you a slightly dark picture of my beautiful and lovely sister Claire from last year's ACL Fest. This is for comparative purposes (see below)

Okay, so this post is either going to really piss off my sister or really crack her up. Went to a party last month and I met the friend of a friend of mine. And I could not get over how much she looked like my sister. That is, if my sister was a cross-dressing tranny. Now that I've dropped that bomb, let me just say that this woman was very nice and pleasant and it is not her fault that God also gave her a penis. Okay, she doesn't have a penis. But she is rather mannish. AND she looks like my sister. If my sister was a cross-dressing tranny. I took this picture of her and YOU CANNOT DENY THE SIMILARITIES!!!

See? Granted, my sister is much prettier and less, ahem, uh rode hard and put away wet, but you see where I am coming from. Don't you? And yes, I do feel like a total asshole for bashing this delightful woman who had no idea that I was going to take her picture in order to compare her to my sister if my sister had XY chromosomes. And a big hairy dick. Feel free to barrage me with hate comments, I defiantly stand by my story.

Lollapafuckyeah

I also scored a major coup today by getting Lollapalooza 06 festival tix for $45 each!!! Yay!!! August in Chicago with a skillion other people. And my sister. Yay!!

crap crap and more crap

Here is my new bed. It's all firm yet fluffy and wonderful. Although I did almost give myself a coronary streeeeeeetching the sheets over the box spring. I'm not doing that anymore. I got a bedskirt. Also my fantastiricacal pink 600TC are on it now. They rule, but they are pretty slippery. I was trying to read in bed the other night in a half-supine position and I couldn't get any traction with my feet. So, anyway, the bed:
So the other week, Tony D calls me on a Wednesday and is like what are you doing tonight? And I said going to my shit-useless-lame-as-fuck-marketing-class and he said oh well I guess I will just throw away this sweet motherfreaking ticket to the Stones show that was just given to me and I said what time shall I meet you? The show was great, even better than the October one--they played some really great songs that I don't think they play a lot live. It was awesome. So yes, I have now seen the Stones twice in less than 6 months and both times for FREE. Although the first time I did have to sell a little part of my soul. Anyway, here is Mick playing a little song on the piano:
Alrighty. Next up is the most adorable baby I know, Parker Elizabeth. This is Ali's baby that is coming up on a year old in the next couple weeks. She is also being christened--soon to be a good Catholic baby and not going to hell. What I like best about Parker is that she is extremely friendly and sociable and laughs a lot and is a very happy baby. Plus one time she fell asleep on my chest and my ovaries yearned. Simply yearned. Miss P:

Peace Accord

Contrary to K's vote of confidence, I think we have a victory on all sides. Lu had definitely poked around the reinforced area the next day, but overall things looked pretty secure. The next morning, I delivered the coup de grace: when getting ready for work, I was in the bathroom with the ex-door and I noticed that Lu was obviously nervous and guilty-looking when lurking nearby. Inspiration struck: I took the bag of door shreds intended for the rubbish pick-up and spread them over the fence area. Last night: untouched. Plus I am keeping her happy with lots of attention and positive reinforcement. Plus I am going to have a dog walker come on Tuesday and Wednesdays, hopefully starting next week.

Plus I will beat her into an oblivion if she doesn't quit pulling this shit.

This means war.

I'm at war with my dog. I fear it will be a fight to the death.

Advantage me: larger brain, opposable thumbs
Advantage Tallulah: at home all day alone, massive separation anxiety complex

War was initiated by Lu last week and was raging for three days before I was even aware of it. Then found note in mailbox left by neighbor that she had been running around the neighborhood via large escape hole under the fence. Which she would then CRAWL BACK UNDER to be home like nothing happened when I got home at night.

My response was admittedly weak, but it was dark and cold and I was exhausted: stuck bag of firewood into hole.

Tallulah promptly responded the next day by digging new hole next to original one and losing her collar somewhere.

First round: Tallulah, definitely.

I planned on staying home pretty much all weekend, but had to attend an engagement party Saturday night. Since I hadn't fixed the holes yet, I put Lu in the guest bathroom for a few hours. I lovingly placed one of her dog beds, a chewie, and some water for her comfort. Tallulah retaliated by EATING THE ENTIRE BACK OF THE DOOR. I came home to a large pile of sawdust at the base of the door. I open the door to find five times more sawdust and the water tipped over, so the room is an intoxicating blend of wet wood and panicked dog. I spend next hour cleaning up crap and Lu sleeps in basement. She tries to get me back chewing up some newspaper, but it doesn't faze me.

Second round: Tallulah, with the door and all. But my anger is brewing.

Sunday I set about repairing the hole and devising some way to win the war once and for all. In the bottom of the holes I placed a layer of firewood logs stacked side-by-side. Then a layer of metal netting staked down, topped with a lot of top soil all tamped down in it. Lastly, a shit load of black pepper all over the place. Hopefully she will get a snootful of pepper in her face and become afraid of the site. If she makes it to the netting, I'm hoping this will mystify her to the point of surrender. And there's no way she can move the logs.

Third round: God I hope me. Because otherwise shit is going to go down.

Can she just dig elsewhere along the fence line? Perhaps. But she has always dug here, so maybe my obvious attempts to keep her in the yard will translate to some kind of reassurance of love in her tiny dog brain. And besides, she doesn't really want to get out, she just wants attention.

Tonight: Judgement Day.

Strooooolling down meeeeemory lane

I was just sitting here in my office when a memory struck me from my college years. One of my best friends at the time, Cat Wall, had a dream/nightmare about an impending date. In reality, Cat met some guy at a frat party who went to UT. He invited her to his own fraternity party the next weekend and she accepted. Towards the end of the night, she asked him what fraternity he was in, and he replied the music fraternity. Throughout the week leading up to the date, Cat became more progressively stressed out about the date to the point that she had a dream about it.

In the dream, she brings me and another friend of ours as buffers to the party, which is actually more like a prom. Everyone is in formal dress and--as she imagined a music fraternity party to be--the party sucks. Everyone is lame and nerdy and we are having a terrible time. At the end of the dream, we retreat to a corner of the ballroom to sit at a large, tableclothed round table. To our surprise, another friend of ours, Kevin, is already sitting there, bowtie loosened, feet on the table, and smoking a cigarette. We all turn to look at him: Kevin looks around the room at the other partygoers, takes a deep drag on his cigarette, and proclaims, "Classic dorks." End of the dream.

That's really the post. A memory about someone else's dream. But in real life Cat did indeed drag both of us to the party and it did indeed suck. Differences included that it was at somebody's lakehouse versus a ballroom, attire was casual, and Cat and I beat two of the frat guys in a pool game, whereupon the ENTIRE FRATERNITY serenaded us in nineteen-part harmony.

The woot of all genius.

So a while ago, a random friend told me about woot.com . In a nutshell, this site sells one item per day for a set price. When that item is gone, you have to wait until midnight eastern time for a new item to post (the exception being the occasional but ever-exciting woot-off in which multiple products may be for sale in a subsequent fashion one day).

Needless to say, I am fascinated. I have yet to actually purchase a woot offering, and they tend to favour the technical/computery side of things, but the accompanying commentary and product description is always worth the visit. To wit: today's offering? A bag of random crap. For $1. And they sold out. IN FOUR MINUTES. God I hope you are reading this blog TODAY so you can read the product info. If not, here are some highlights:

Crap is a many-splendored thing. If crap be the food of love, crap on. It is better to have crapped and lost than never to have crapped at all. Crap, lift us up where we belong.

Yes, crap is in the air once again, so we're sending this randomly crappy, bag-shaped valentine to all the people we really love. If you don't manage to get one, it's because we're sulking over something you've done to upset us. Try to guess what it was!

and:

THE HOLY CRAP COMMANDMENTS v2.0:
I. Thou shalt expect nothing beyond one bag of some kind and your chosen quantity of crappy items (which should be THREE).
II. Thou shalt not whine and complain when some people's crap turns out to be nicer than yours.
III. Thou shalt take a moment to consider whether you might be better off just not buying this crap.
IV. Thou shalt not order just one crap and blame it on anything but your own inattention.
V. To paraphrase Stephen Stills, shalt thou not get the crap you want, want the crap you get.

Warranty: you wish

Features:
1 (one) bag
Some (some) crap

To quote woot.com, God bless the internet.

Le Porc Rose!

Continuing on in the grand tradition of thing-that-happened-over-two-months-ago, I present to you camera pics I took of Claire's and my adventure on Macy's Pink Pig ride last November. We actually bought "reserved" tickets, meaning we didn't have to stand in line with the rest of the riff-raff and we got free commemorative badges! Despite the ride being billed as "for children of all ages," it was decidedly not. Claire and I were the only ones over eight and we quickly discovered that we needed to sit in one car. Each.

Here is a pic of Claire having fake fun. Note child in wonder behind her.

Another picture of Claire next to the stationary car for scale purposes.
The overwhelming sign that greeted us upon entrance into THE PINK PIG TENT.
For kicks, they had the original pink pig car on display. A couple of things about this: a) it was not pink. ???? b) it was microscopic, easily half the size of the hip, new pink pig car. And enclosed! How did the kiddies of the 50's do it??? I'll tell you: no growth hormones and preservatives in everything they ate, that's how.
Afterwards, we bought a wooden pink pig train Christmas tree ornament.

Museum Shizz

I hate my job and I hate everyone who works here. Lame lame lame.

But instead of focusing on that, here are some camera pics from THANKSGIVING WEEKEND. I teem on the cutting edge of current news. Fuck off.

Okay, this is a shot of the High's Ten Marilyns. I have to say, now owning one, not impressed. Quality of colour reproduction frankly sketchy on some of them, and their version of mine had a frayed corner. A frayed corner! I mean, really, what is the art world coming to? Disgraceful. Moving on.

This was a nice pair of black and white suspended lips. As you can see. Can't remember the artist. But I like it.
Very large installment of pears and peaches on the new High veranda. There was a big sign saying do not fucking touch this you asshole. I was thinking, well no shit, but then I remembered that there are plenty of assholes who would do that because it looks all cartoony and it's not in a frame on a wall. I might add that this astounding relevation is coming from the person who hand-planted The Nightwatch and set off alarms when she was seven. At least when I fuck with art I pick the good shit.
Taken on the skywalk connecting the old and new wings. For a piece of shit camera phone, I think this is a pretty damn good picture, catching both my shadow near. . . . and far. Near. . . . and far. Near. . . . . . . . . . . . . . and far.
That's it from the High. You may now resume your normal activities.

I see. . . a basement! In the Alamo!

Will I ever post again with any semblance of regularity? Can I recreate the magic? Is the blog MEANT TO BE???

I cannot answer these questions now. The future is uncertain. All I can handle right now are recap bullets, mere soupcons of information. Bon appetit.

• Hols in Malta were great: click here for photo album
• Work is soul-sucking and not fun
• School is fairly intense and panning out to be a challenging semester
• I need a new mattress VERY badly
• I do not have gonorrhea or chlamydia (Did I have look up both those words to spell them correctly? Yes.)

That's all for now. Wipe your chin, you're dribbling.

Up yours, Screw Job!!!

I have to give a shout-out to my boy Andrew Duerson for the post title. We had a massive fake email fight about four years ago and he won by sending the above sentiment repeated about 9,000 times on the screen. Good times. Perhaps the only person who loved Jerry Orbach/Lenny more than I did. Anyway. On to the post!

What's this? What's this below? Some kind of map, eh? Well, let's see what's on it. . . ah, the lovely country of Malta, the veritable jewel of the Mediterranean! Where I will be spending the next two weeks! Merry Christmas, SUCKERS!

Amidst the hissing sounds of your jealous seething, I must bid you adieu. I'm off for the QCC*2 tomorrow; by this time Thursday, I will be sitting in the Milan airport waiting for my connection. But then AFTER that, I will be in Malta with my family. Drinking and fighting. I can't wait. Best of the hols to you and yours. See you soon, mwah!

love, el.

*why, the Quin Christmas Convention, of course

I'm a bad person!

Because I don't blog enough! For my two readers. But on a bright note, I just finished my first semester of grad school last night! Will feel weird to have my Mondays and Thursdays back. . . until next semester kicks in.

Other than that, things are pretty la la la lame. My excitement for the weekend basically boils down to picking up the second Warhol (that actually will be pretty cool) from the framer's and getting my hair cut. This is what is has come down to, how dismally pathetic my life has become lately: I am excited about getting. my. hair. cut.

For those of you are interested, keeping the length but putting in lots of long layers. For those not interested, eat a dick.

That was the trademark phrase of a high school friend of mine. Fellow by the name of Eric Smith. No idea what he is doing now. Hopefully not, um, eating a dick.

Well, this post has rapidly degenerated.

One more and then I'm done. For the day.

I am crampy. Crampety cramp cramp of the Highland McCrampingtons crampy. I am in fact using my cramps as an excuse to bog off the gym tonight. And instead go to a pre-trivia drinking session. And drink those cramps awaaaaay!

Back off, cramps! I'm druuuuunk!

Posting MAAAAAAANIA!!!

I know, I know, I can't believe it either. Pictures too!

Long story short, I bought a Warhol. A friend of mine had a line on a really good deal on a series of Marilyn silkscreens and I got one. So did Claire. They're being framed now and we're going to look at them on Saturday. This is the first piece of real art I have ever owned. It's like an investment and shit! Anyway, this first pic is mine:

Bad angle, but you get the idea: blue background, orange hair, pinky/purpley face with a silver sheen on the shadow bits. It's being framed white on white oh so museum nouveau!

This is Claire's:

Classic silver on silver, looks really neat. It's going to be black matte on black frame oh so stylish. Maybe too stylish. Hmm, maybe I will start a family feud and claim Claire's Marilyn for my own! She'll never know what hit her. Until she reads this blog entry.

Anyway, these are the only two Marilyns in the series with metallic silver paint. And we have both of them! It's all just too exciting for words.

I'm a posting fool, a posting fool

Here are some pics from the absolutelyfuckingamazing Stones show I went to last month. I know you can't really tell what is going on, but in the bottom one Mick is on the big screen, pointing to Keith where his teeth fell out. Lots of lights, lips and tongue graphics, at one point part of the stage detached and came ouuuuuuuuuut into the audience then went baaaaaaaaaaaack into the rest of the stage. These guys are pros. They left for precisely 1 minute during the fake will they/won't they encore bit, did two songs, and then were like peace out party people, last one turn off the lights, they were GONE. I guess after FORTY YEARS of doing this shit you pretty much get it down to a science. It was great. I screamed like a twelve-year old girl and bought a $45 tee-shirt.

Gin + vent = high hilarity

This was at the new(ish) Moreland shopping centre when Gin was here last month for a visit. They have these massive ground vents that BLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW! huge amounts of air into the, uh, air. Ginny and I stood on them for several minutes, giggling maniacally. Then when we were driving out we saw a lady unwittingly walk over one and her skirt blew completely up and oh how we laughed and laughed. Except the windows were down and she heard us. Sorry lady.

Remember meeeeeeeee?

Let's not dwell on the past. I know it's been a while. But it's a week of thanksgiving. . . so just be thankful that I am writing.

In response to people asking me how I am doing/what's going on/what's new, I created a snazzy catchphrase: "Work and school, rinse and repeat." This outstandingly comic witticism is not only true AND concise, it also keeps me from thinking up new things to tell people/boring them with mundane trivialities. Everyone wins.

I did a little Christmas shopping this weekend. In related news, I am working on a TOP SECRET project for my family and was able to get a little bit more done on that end. I also turned the heat on for the first time this season. It was less than 50 degrees in the house, now a toasty 67. I would have turned it on earlier, but the pilot light went out and I didn't feel like blowing myself up. Dropped off shizz at the Salvation Army, dented the fuck out of my car, and had sushi twice. Went to a birthday party, met my. . . what? Car? Gloss over? Go back? YES, I fucking put a dent the size of a fucking fist into my car this weekend. In my garage. Going >1 mile per hour. That's all I'm saying about it. Fuuuck! Moving on. Mlo and Liz's birthday party at famed gay club Friends, met up with my Biz Comm group to work on presentation, did research for tcm article due today shiiiiit. Cleaned up all the papers and shit on my dining room table, quite possibly the proudest moment of the weekend for me. I mentioned this to a friend and he snidely remarked, "Wouldn't this be the stuff that I saw the last time I was there?" He hasn't been to my house in probably two years. Asshole.

As is the corporate office protocol, approximately 63 people so far have asked me how my weekend was. This has been my response: "It was pretty low-key." I'm such a liar. But they don't really want to know anyway. Again, everyone wins. But looking at this post, I had a huge weekend. Except that I didn't get to go to U2. Like the dent, I don't want to talk about it.

See ya next month!

Oh, yeah.

Also, Happy Halloween. I was going to do something like send you one of those emails that makes you look at an idyllic scene for a while and then a really scary picture flashes up and it screams loudly and makes you shit your pants. But even I am not that much of a bastard.

Okay, I am, I just couldn't find one.

How much do I suck? Let me count the ways.

How long has it been? Eh, I don't even care anymore. I'm tired. All the time. My lack of energy used to make me feel bad, but now. Whatever. Don't care. The worst part? Even things that should be fun and good I am viewing as just another thing on my to-do list. Just another chore I have to squeeze in between work, school, house, pets, and bills. Things like trying to date or hanging out with my friends or even talking to my family members who I freaking love more than anything. Please dear loved ones, be patient with me. I just need. . . I just need. . . what do I need? Fuck I just need to fucking snap out of this!

Okay, stay tuned. Or don't, I understand.

Worst. Tattoo. Ever.

I just realised that I never posted the rest of the ACL pics. Don't worry, they all pretty much sucked anyway, so you're not missing anything.

But there was one.

One pic that perfectly demonstrates one man's obsession. With. The Boss.



This guy was in front of me for Built To Spill (Who were disappointedly feh; I mean, hi, I realise that it was VERY FUCKING HOT and that they are from Idaho, undoubtedly colder than Austin, but fuck the Arcade Fire is from Montreal and they were wearing full-on suit and wool gloves and shit and WAY more fucking animated and actually seemed psyched to be there). He seemed to be having fun and all but can you IMAGINE what he would have done if Bruce had popped on stage for a jam?

I couldn't stop staring at it, all the while noticing new Bruce details. There were actually four separate Bruces, you can't really see the one on his left shoulder region. And the totally blacked-in Bruce must have HUUUURT. Shit. This guy is a fucking FAAAAAAN. It was no problem snapping the pic, thanks for asking.

This shit is bookmarked. Twice.

In a quintessential encapsulation of what a sad state of affairs my life has become, this little link has become, in recent weeks, the gateway to my greatest source of visual pleasure. The calm and relaxation it provides me has been invaluable; I only hope you can share in some of my joy.

ps. you can help him out if he gets stuck. or not, it's up to you.

Guy In Philosophy Class Needs To Shut The Fuck Up

Yet another brilliant gem from people-that-I-wish-were-my-friends-at The Onion.

ACL Fest: band examination, Spoon

At least I think this is Spoon. I'm not sure, by this point I was drinking and did I mention how hot it was? Oh wait, there's the boy with the red trucker hat on in front of me. This is definitely a pic of the Spoon show. V good band, and hometown heroes at that so there was a HUUUUUUUUGE turnout for this show. Skillions of people.
On another note, K just sent me an mp3 of "Eleanor Put Your Boots On," a track off the upcoming Franz album. It's very jangly and happy and oh just lovely. I love songs with my name in them.

ACL Fest: chapter one, the saga begins

Hey? Want to see some crappy pictures I took with my camera phone???? You do? Well, here ya go! I call Photo 1: "Frat Boy Backpack from the Back." A simple composition at first glance, but upon digging deeper you may see the floating red head of Jeff Tweedy on the jumboscreen in the back ground. Yes, this is my photo of Wilco playing.

This one is a little better, just showing off THE SCENE. The scene that was ungodly hot. The light brown area you see halfway in the picture is dusty ground. Dusty hot ground. Dusty hot ground that got kicked up by 65,000 people all weekend and made breathing difficult. At night it looked like a nuclear fallout scene, replete with copious overtones of hacking coughs. FUN!!!

Anyway, this pic not only shows that there were a fuckload of people there (and this was Friday, the lightest day), but also the luxurious Austin skyline and the big Tejas sky. Under which we coughed. And burned.

Lataaaaaaaaaaahs

I'm out of here--off to Austin for a three-way with ACL Fest and Rita. Should be a good time, will try to take pics and, uh, remember stuff.

In other news, sleep really helps you feel functional. This sounds obvious until you get too little of it and then you realise you're forgetting to do things like shut the car door and wear underwear. These are purely hypothetical examples.

Moons over My Hammy

So I went to Miami this weekend. For fun in the sun, you say? Take in the exciting nightlife, perhaps? To gawk at impeccably bronzed, impossibly sculpted human beings in skimpy clothing? Revel in the Art Deco architecture and wide use of pastel colours?

Nope! I went to get some!

Ah, Miami: land of my ex. My wholly familiar and emotionally vapid ex. Bottom line: we have good times. This weekend we had some really good times. And then I flew home. So basically it was a 1300 mile-long booty call. Round-trip.

Plus I get sky-miles.

I'm only updating because Karen did.

Shit, I'm busy. Work is chaotic, school is heating up, and I have THE BOOT slowing me down. I need to get my ass moving. Spent first half of Labour Day weekend in drunken stupor, so consequently spent the second half in bed, recovering. Although I was productive at one point and cleaned my house--it smells all fresh and shit. What a concept, right, hilarious.

In my alcoholic convalescence, I watched a couple of really good movies (in addition to the second season of Curb, fifth season just out yay!): The first one was Kung Fu Hustle. Now, I remember thinking when this movie was released in theatres, "Hmm, looks good--I think I'll go see it." Naturally, I never went. So when the title peeked at me on the vid store shelf, I bit. And oh, am I so glad I bit. I loved it. I actually. . . I actually. . . shit, I don't really want to admit this, but certain scenes were so amazingly constructed that. . . I cried a little. At the beauty of it all. Smiling and crying. I wept tears of cinematic joy. Oh go fuck yourself.

The other film was Bubba Ho-tep. Can't even begin to explain the plot line on this one. Yes, I can: an old Elvis and JFK are still alive and live in an East Texas rest home, where a mummy is feasting on the souls of the residents and only the pair can stop him. Bruce Campbell is DEAD ON as a geriatric King and Ossie Davis is--as per the usual--outstanding.

I think you should stop reading this post and go rent this films.

Still reading, eh? Well, I'm out of here. I have a BITCH of a case study for Business Analysis to work on tonight. I'm actually a little scared of it. Hold me.

afternoon quickie

The Boot update:
Tomorrow it will be 1 week down, 5 weeks and counting. Getting used to it, feels weird to take it off at night. Upper shin now aches a little, makes me think the bone is starting to properly go back into place. Moving around pretty quickly. Going to gym tonight, prolly just for weight training machines.

Went to the second of my Business Analysis class last night. Quickly overwhelmed by rapid-fire sum-up of college calculus. Um, I never took calculus. Or any college math for that reason. Great. Have massive analysis due in two weeks. Hope to get cracking this weekend.

Tonight:
Gym, farmer's market, din, finish up Strat Comm reading, and prepare packages I have been meaning to mail out for about 3 weeks now. Then sleep, sweet sleep.

Didn't I say there would be pics?

Great lashings of photographs. Of grainy and generally poor quality!

So Kat and Erich (bottom two pics, obviously) got hitched this weekend. Fantastic wedding, everyone was gorgeous, I cried, food/booze/band all top notch. It was awesome. Except my friend got thrown in jail. That was not very awesome. But it's all going to work out.

I also present to you a visual homage to the very yummy and delicious Banilla yogurt that I have been eating all week for brek. It is so good. And finally: The boot. I'll try to make this as short as possible.

At the end of June I got hit in the leg hard with a line drive during a softball game it hurt but felt ok the next day so I figured all was well but then I got kicked in the ankle two weeks later in another softball game but again it felt okay a little bit later so I didn't really think anything of it but then a large bump began to grow out of my leg about two weeks ago so I finally went to see the doctor and it turns out I have a hairline fracture and the bump was the BONE growing out of my body and I have to wear the boot for six weeks the end.

Faulkner would be proud.

Blowing town

So I'm out of here tomorrow AM--up to NC for le wedding. Becoming more excited about this as it draws nearer; I suspect the weekend might be a little wild. NOT, mind you, because of me; as my wise friend Gin counseled, "Just don't get naked at this one." And if you don't know this story, well, buy me a drink and maybe I'll tell you sometime. Anyway, those days are loooong past. Well, they'd better be. . . Kat would probably be super-pissed if I pulled that kind of stunt at what will be one of the happiest days of her life. Ginny only just started speaking to me as it is.

Next up: some photos of shite quality from the mobile. Just for kicks.

Birds flying high, you know how I feel.

Man, oh man, have I been busy.

It all got effed up last week. I had a class for my compensation professional certification (ooooh!). There are nine modules with exams at the end, this was my sixth. While I like the classes, I can't help but think that my enthusiasm for them will drastically diminish once I begin grad school. Which starts next Monday. I had my orientation session on Saturday morning. 8am. In Alpharetta (far). The first few hours were pretty rough. I've come to realise that doing things--like taking offsite training classes and attending ass-early orientation sessions--throw me off my routine. And I don't like to be thrown off my routine. I don't get enough sleep, I eat poorly, and I don't work out. These are all bad things. And for all three to happen at once, even worse. So last week was a total wash-out. I slept for 15 hours once I got home from the orientation.

This week has been better, but still pretty hectic. Mostly back to my comforting routine, but did have to venture into downtown on Tuesday to buy my text books. As my ATL peeps know, downtown Atlanta is kind of built on a grid. Except when it's not. And most streets are alternating one-way streets. Except when they're not. Throw in a sprinkling of inexplicable road closings and untimed streetlights and voila! A shitty driving experience! Then I parked and was feeding the meter with the last of my change when a helpful passerby noted that I didn't have to pay for parking after 6pm. Then I got lost 900 times in the Student Centre building until a janitor took pity on my and led me by the hand to the bookstore. I bought approx 45 lbs of books and the girl put it into one plastic carrier bag. After the handles had been streeeeeeetched to the thickness of spaghetti, I heaved it on to my chest and proceeded down five flights of stairs in sandals that went CLOP CLOP CLOP all the way down. At the bottom, the guy manning the front desk was standing up with his hands planted on the counter and glared at me when I clopped by, I imagine since he had been listening to me arrive for seven minutes. Then I turned the wrong way on 75/85, but REFUSED to backtrack and went for a lovely drive through the very shitty ghetto. I actually passed some cops winding up some yellow crime scene tape and learned later that night on the news that someone had been shot there. Windows were up and doors were locked.

This weekend is Kat and Erich's wedding. I'm taking off Friday to go up to North Carolina. It should be a fantastic time, really looking forward to it. Free-flowing booze and good times. And the sanctity of two people officially beginning a life together. But also the booze.

When I get back, I'm going to have to hit the ground running. I have an article due for tcm (for latest site offerings, click here and here) Monday, and my first class (Business Analysis yeeee) on Monday night. Oh, and then I get to go to the doctor on Tuesday morning due to a disturbing amount of growth out of my left leg from when it stopped a line drive cold in softball a month ago. And the cyst on my wrist still hasn't gone away. Fun! I'm a mutant!

But there is a fun lake party next Friday. And I am eating better this week, getting more sleep, and working out, so I feel pretty good. And isn't that what it's all about? Feelin' good?

You're not the boss of me, stupidface.

My sister thinks I am relying too heavily on pictures versus text for my blog content lately. To which I respond:

Images courtesy of Thundercut, a really cool photography site.

It's not a tumor. I hope.

Yesterday I had a pretty substantial freak-out session. I was fiddling with the top of my hand for a while when I looked down and noticed this. THIS! This GROWTH on my hand!

Admire the close-up action. After thorough internet research (ie; googled "cyst" and "hand), I have diagnosed myself with a ganglion cyst. Apparently, they're not too life-threatening or anything--but I have made an appointment with my doc just in case it is a tumor. Or a massive blood clot just waiting to be free so it can float up my artery and into my brain causing a massive embolism. Or blowfly eggs incubating tiny flesh-eating maggots that will hatch and begin to devour my body from the inside out.

I'm sure it will be fine.

Oh damn I HAVE to post this

Oh man I had to do it. This is my sister's friend Sara playing volleyball recently up in Chi-ca-go. Never in the history of man has anyone looked more like a cartoon. How are her legs doing that? The upper half is more of your garden variety flail. Together, photographic magic. Here's to you, Sara.

har

Holidaaaay! Celebrate!

It's on!

Bought tickets and airfare for this year's ACL Fest. Went the inaugural year in '03, missed it last year due to Africa, and back on track this year. Have already ID'ed 38 bands I want to see. Excited about the event, seeing friends (particularly MERN!!!), eating and drinking at all the old haunts. Austin. *sigh* It will always have a little piece of my heart. A ventricle, if you will. So like 1/4 I guess.

On another note, my left shin got smashed by a wicked line drive ball in last night's game. Hurt like a mothereffer. There are actually ball stitch imprints in my leg. Today, however, it is surprisingly not as painful as I imagined it would be. Although I fell over getting out of bed this AM.

And when they pulled the burning body out of the wreckage, it looked like: THIS!

Hmm I was testing out animation on this blog and by the looks of it, it works. . . kind of. Let's call it my tribute to Large Marge.

ohmygodtimeisatastandstill

It's a slow news day.

First of all, I'm a fucking idiot. I didn't get to bed last night until 4am. Here is what happened. Tried to get into the Better Than Ezra show at the Roxy with friend and they were completely, utterly, 100% SOLD OUT. Frankly I was surprised--they are my secret guilty pleasure band, so I guess I didn't think hordes of people would want to go. We shook it off and had a couple beers and played a game of darts at some bar. Left to go home around 10:30pm--this is good, plenty of time to get a good night's sleep. But it was not to be. Another friend calls and lures me to the mothereffing T'side for a beer. Which turns into multiple beers. Which makes 11pm turn into 330am. The time just fleeeeeeeew by, I couldn't believe it when I realised what time it was. So 4am. Needless to say, have felt pretty ploppy all day. Just want to go home and take a 1-2 hour nap. Then I will be okay. God my liver must HATE ME.

Lunch Review

I had a veggie sandwich from ATL Bread Company for lunch (above). Overall: scrumptious. Drawback: A bit overstuffed and gooey. A bit of tomato actually shot out of it in mid-bite and fell on the floor. Some of you may know that messy, drippy sandwiches are actually a HUUUUGE pet peeve of mine. But it wasn't that bad, and the sandwich taste was really quite good. So I will prolly get it again. With more napkins this time.

Um, no.

I won't be eating here.

Now I need to wash my brain.

I just remembered that I had a dream last night that I was still in high school living with my family and we all went over to this other, bigger more amazing house that we also owned and had just forgotten about. I was all excited about getting to choose my own room and thrilled to see there was a swimming pool in the front lawn. I was the first one in the house and I was opening up closets and looking all around when a man popped out of one of the rooms dressed only in whitey-tighties and ran out of the house, as though he had been hiding in the empty house all along. When I ran after him outside, I caught up to him and realised it was Bob Geldof.

???

It kills. And you know what I am talking about.

Spied this lovely fellow as we were tucking into a delicious brek at Gato Bizco yesterday morning. Nearly put me off my soysage. Nearly.