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.