Subject: RE: Cawfee Tawk I think I’ll be glued to my desk for a while still… I do want to read this guy’s stuff though.
Any pictures of homeless men? www.hmless_mn.com/datefinder (this is going to be my big money making site!)--“Matching homeless men with lovely ladies since ‘12” WARNING: All homeless men have been lightly washed with wet naps and sprayed with Axe. --
We can go on photo shoots at Bradford Beach. Get them to take their shirts off.
I like to imagine that Random Hobos are circling your house, constantly looking for a way in. Maybe there’s a nest in the chimney? -- LIKE. You have to set a trap with Basic cigarettes and a cup of McDonald’s coffee. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I feel like children shouldn’t go visit people in jail, unless it’s a parent. Is that elitist?
Rehab is different. Or is it? I don’t know. I’m all mixed up. Let’s just talk about wet-napping homeless dudes. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I think they’re scheduling a Scared Straight tour of our department for next month. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------We’re exploiting these homeless dudes to facilitate ladies’ pleasure.
--
We should make sure to include that on the site.
--
That will also go on all the business cards.
--
Make sure to put “pleasure” in a fancy cursive font like our wall quote. It makes it supes CLASSY.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Okay, so say a lovely lady wants to meet up with a random hobo. How will she contact him? Leave a note in a tree?--
That’s where the “service” aspect comes in. We’re the hobo-to-lonely lady middlemen.
--
Hobos are rated in cigarettes instead of stars.
--
So it’s like Jessica does with greyhounds. Lonely ladies tell you what they want and you’ll show the lady three hobos who fit that description. And maybe a bonus one that you think might work.
Let me first just tell you about the day I had, which seems to be culminating into a night/tomorrow of insomnia.
I've actually never really had insomnia before, but after tossing and turning for a half an hour and with the foster pups up and about as well, I figured I might as well get up and document the wondrous day I've had.
And I'm not even being sarcastic.
First of all work was fine. I decided to listen to my sad bastard mix entitled "Quoatables" because I have quotes from all the songs posted in my cubicle at work. I like quotes and I like music.
What.
I do what I want.
But here is a fun fact. If you're not all that depressed, the songs can kind of be uplifting and awesome and full of nostalgia. Or at least fake nostalgia. Or maybe displaced nostalgia.
Ihavenoideawhatiamtalkingabout.
And yes. That is what the majority of this blog will be about.
BUT FIRST.
On my way to class local radio was killing me with commercials or weird hip-hop so I decided to go old school and put on 'KLH. And boy. I couldn't believe how much I was freaking out.
Plus Neil Young was one of the first artists I could consistently play songs by on the ol' guit-fiddle.
Hey Joe/Jimi Hendrix
I freaking love this song. Jimi Hendrix was one of the first records I remember thinking "OH MY GOD THIS IS VINYL THIS IS SO RAD" and Hey Joe was on there. And then Hey Joe was featured in another 90s classic, Empire Records. Which I probably can quote too well as witnessed on Monday evening in Third Cinema class. Sometimes I forget my pop culture acumen has a very limited audience.
Hey Jude/The Beatles
Seriously. Do you even know how much I love this song? ITS MY NAMESAKE.
JUDE AND PRUDE RULED HIGH SCHOOL AND ALL THE THINGS IN 1996-98.
Okay. So we didn't necessarily rule anything. But Prude is my oldest/newest bestie and favorite wannabe Jew and favorite shiksa and favorite allthethings.
A little background on why this song is so awesome for me:
Listening to the oldies station whilst growing up. I was maybe 9 or 10. And believe it or not, I always wasn't this awesome. So the crazed shout-screaming was on and to me I just though it sounded like the grittiest, purest rock EVER.
And I couldn't believe my dad was listening to it.
And then when he told me it was the BEATLES. The cutesy fab four that all my aunts liked, well I just couldn't believe it. He then informed me that the Beatles were pretty awesome especially after their cutesy fab four stage (and to be honest, I think they're pretty awesome in their cutesy fab four stage, but that is a whole other nerd issue).
I also wonder how many times I can use the phrase "cutesy fab four."
And. I kind of think it's the greatest song to play air piano to.
So upon finishing this triptych of awesome I called Dear Prudence up and told her of the shenanigans that had just ensued inside of Azure Ray (my car). I was probably talking at my elevated, high pitch squeak that I presume people find totally endearing and not annoying at all (totes jk people. I hate the way my voice sounds and I'm truly sorry it's so whiny and high most of the time), as I'm traipsing across campus. Yes I was one of those.
And then class ensues.
Modern Lit Theory where I feel it's Plan H-ers (my track) against the world.
Rather than talking about the actual THEORIES and how they can be applied to any one of our interests, let's instead talk about how Marx makes us FEEL.
Or that your feelings were hurt by Adorno & Horkheimer.
ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME.
AND THEN PRETEND THAT YOU ARE NOT ALL PRETENTIOUS ASSHOLES.
I admit it.
I am a pretentious asshole.
IT'S WHY WE ARE ALL IN GRAD SHOOL.
WE THINK WE ARE SMARTER THAN THE AVERAGE BEAR.
WE THINK OUR TASTES ARE BETTER AND WE ARE TRYING TO PROVE IT
or
WE THINK OUR TASTES ARE RIDICK AND WE ARE TRYING TO VALIDATE IT.
To quote Mugatu.
I feel like I'm taking crazy pills:
Luckily I drove a friend home and I got to decompress a little bit.
Egads.
But.
Back to my original ideas for this post.
1. I realize these blogs get super long and rambly. And I'm sorry. I love run-on sentences as witnessed by my professors incessant comments on my response paper "Reads like a run-on." I clearly don't have an editing function in my brain.
2. It's literally 4am. I am, most likely not going to bed. I got five hours of sleep last night and 4.5 tonight. So give a spinnie a break.
3. I've made up a new word: spinnie. It's like a spinster but full of fun and ridick and awesome, but maybe a little bit of cliche too. At least I don't have cats.
So. I've made this mix entitles "Quoatables" as mentioned earlier.
Sometimes I play it when I wanna suffocate within the Bell Jar, and let's be real. February has been a real doozy.
Is it the leap day? Is it late onset of Seasonal Affective Disorder? Is it the severe lack of snow? I don't know. But in can end at any time.
Just sayin'.
But.
For whatever reason, I am total sucker for Sad Bastard music. I love it.
I can't get enough.
And since I'm more than slightly neurotic and tend to listen to these songs on repeat for hours on end, I thought (THOUGHT being the word) I would try to quantify me obsession, especially since I was in a good mood yesterday and they made me all oddly warm and fuzzy inside.
And we all know how much I love feelings.
Shit might get a little real here.
Stop telling me the right way to go...
Okay. So. Full disclosure. This was kind of my break-up jam of the summer. I listened to this incessantly and I knew I would be okay. And awesome.
Plus, it opens with a van door shutting, which I think is kind of amazing. I don't know. I just like it.
And this live version is delighful and subdued. And I think Mates of State are absolutely adorbs and I think the drummer is cute and nerdy.
So this song reminds me of picking up friends in the cavalier (OH HOW I MISS THAT CAR) and them not judging me or complaining that this song was on repeat on the way too and from our destination.
It's complicated when you gravitate towards yourself...
I have to say, I wasn't a huge fan of SBTRKT. A friend would incessantly post their songs on FB and I was always quite meh about them.
BUT.
During the summer of Hot Messery (as the summer of 2011 shall hitherto be referred to), this was a featured song of the day on NPR.
And.
I loved it.
The narrator just consistently makes bad choices. And knows he will continue to do so.
SIGH.
And the rest of the album has grown on me. Just an FYI. Not a favorite but something I can dig whilst at work.
In secret we believe, we're nothing nothing nothing that we need...
Yes. More Mates of State. Part of me wants to be cynical and wonder when they will get divorced. The other part of me wonders what that must be like, to have a partner that you want/enjoy working with/being around incessantly. AND YET. They write these great songs about suburban disillusionment and consumerism. I don't know. I love it. Although my friend Ables doesn't think this song is that depressing, but I think it's about people giving up and being like, Meh. I guess. And although I am sure we all give up someday, I guess I'm just not ready yet? (it probably doesn't help that my head is filled with Marxist theory right now and it's culminating into this "do what you love/damn the man/save the empire philosophy--wow. Second Empire Records reference...)
To quote Velvet Goldmine:
(side note: I need to buy this movie on DVD. I have it on VHS. I also own casette tapes.)
(side note 2: PRUDE DO YOU REMEMBER TWO RAD MOVIES?)
Do you still feel younger than you thought you would by now...
Yes. I do still feel younger.
But I probably act about 10 years younger than my age too.
Bascially this is your sterotypical love-lost ballad. I just want to be the one he's singing about...Do you look into the mirror to remind yourself you're there. How perfect is that? So many good lines in this gem. LeSigh. And although it's fairly depressing, I can't help but smile when I listen to it.
But I won't ever pass up a moment to tell you replacement's a myth...
This is the LAST Mates of State song, I swear! More disillusionment. More meh-relationships. I cannot, for the life of me figure out this song but it doesn't make me love it any less. Part of me thinks it could actually be about platonic friendship that is lost due to her new relationship? But I don't know. We're just a little bit lost inside our houses. We're just a little unkempt out in the streets.
UGH.
I wanna be smart and write all the things.
Or maybe just less run-on sentences with more coherent thoughts.
We'll run like we're awesome. Totally genius...
Full disclosure: This song wins the prize for most plays on my iTunes.
Here's some of that fake nostalgia I was talking about. Love the imagery of this song. Love thinking it's fall and you're outside playing.
AND I think it recalls "Spirit of the Night" by Bruce Springsteen with it's cake line: Our hands are covered in cake but I swear we didn't have any. Is that a valid connection? Am I the only one who picked up on that? But Spirit in the Night is a very similar in tone and affect (no so much musically) about a group of friends getting together/getting drunk/high/laid. It's just a thought. Maybe that is too broad of a leap. I don't know. I'm not any type of music critic.
Stand in the puddle of the disco ball's glow...
I'm 90% sure there is some literary/mythological reference I'm not getting cos these guys aren't dummies. But that is the genius of it. I don't get the reference but the song is still awesome. Don't get stuck in your head. Come on be the one. AND it uses fun glam-y imagery, which I love. You're a goldmine. Who doesn't want to be told this?
Things I want:
1. slow dance with a boy of interest (i.e. not my brother or dad or cousin or bestie--somehow I missed out on this ritual)
2. be told I am a goldmine
3. be the lady michael ian black as aforementioned
Tell me it's nothing, try to convince me that I'm not drowning...
Ha. If I would have heard this song about two years ago...Well. This quoatables list would have been made then. This version is stripped down and awesome and The Civil Wars are what I listen to every morning when I first get to work. Again. It's not exactly my type of music, but I can't stop. Much like this never-ending blog post.
You were right about the end. It didn't make a difference...
First of all. I wanna wrap myself around the red, beardy goodness that is the lead singer.
Second. I listened to this song on repeat for 2.5 hours after visiting my parents. It was extremely cold out. Super was in the back seat. It was gray. And it was kind of perfect. How can anybody know how they got to be this way...
I love it when my life foreshadows itself.
It's a recurring theme.
I am nothing without pretend, I know my faults can't live with them...
I just got into Wye Oak. It grows on you. Dreamy noise pop I think I've heard them described as? This version isn't as lush and full as the album version, but it's still rock and roll to me (yeah, that's right. I just threw down some Billy Joel lyrics whilst discussing a hipster band).
And since my life is like a movie/show/allthethings, my alarm just went off. Which I thought was kind of fitting since that was my last song!
Seriously. I can't believe I just literally told you why I love a selection of songs.
If you made it this far.
Well. I would offer you some sort of prize or something, but.
Well. That just isn't going to happen.
Okay okay.
Let's not all freak out.
Yes.
It's a new blog.
And.
I'm not even going to promise to try blog more.
Let's be real.
That just never happens.
I would love to say that oh-so-much has changed.
I would love to say "that it's always darkest before the dawn or some shit, right" as my bestie MD has told me.
But alas.
Let's just get the nuts and bolts out of the way:
1. Pitchers and catchers report in 11!!!!!!!!!!! days people.
ELEVEN:
And yes, I know I always say I don't put much faith in spring training cos it doesn't matter. BUT.
Did you even know that the Brewers were the NLCS Champs last year?
It's true.
We were.
And yes.
I totally should have been blogging all about it.
Fail on my part.
But it was exciting and drunken and debaucherous.
And.
Can we please, PRETTY PLEASE make debaucherous a word.
a. I don't like that it gets the red squiggly line
b. I use it a lot
c. It basically describes my very existence.
2. SCHOOL STUFF
Did you even know I got a 3.8 last semester?
Sure, it's not the 4.0 I wanted but considering the utter shite I went through last semester I will take it.
I love my classes even MORE this semester but still have the same insecurities that I have all the time and am secretly hoping this blog will strengthen my weak writing skills so I can become a world-class talking head on those pop culture shows, just like Michael Ian Black.
Yes.
The reason I'm going to grad school is so I can:
a. wear jeans and blazers with elbow patches
b. bring my dog to work
c. be smarter than most people
d. watch and read things and say it's for research but it's really cos I find Christian Bale/David Bowie/Ryan Gosling/insertflavorofthemonthhere dreamy
e. maybe get published
f. be liked by my classmates even if I am the dumb one (as long as they think I'm funny and skinny RIIIIIIIGGGHHHTTTTT??????)
g.be a lady Michael Ian Black.
3. Dogs in Jammies
Here is a fun fact:
If you're down.
And troubled.
And you need a helping hand.
And nothing.
Oh nothing is going right...
Just post a picture as your status on facebook of at least one, but preferably six, greyhounds in jammies and you will get the most likes you've ever gotten.
You don't even need to say anything witty! Or smart!
It's SO SIMPLE.
ANYONE CAN USE IT:
4. Life in the Bell Jar
Let's be real. 2011 was mighty MIGHTY crust-ridden.
I learned that not only is lying an awesome super-power I have, but impeccable timing at break-ups is also one.
My dog died.
I had to suck it up and go on some meds to deal with my stress cos I'm not as strong and awesome as I thought I was.
I still hate feelings (even good ones, cos the neurotic pessimist in me can't just chill and listen to some Nina Simone).
I am still really good at finding/keeping besties.
5. Things I love/wanna marry (cos I refuse to end this on a downer):
a. iPhone! Yes! I still love it! I love texting (especially, shit is gonna get mega girly here, when they are from boys. swoon swoon swoon)! I love SoundHound! I love Cyanide & Happiness! I can track my period (seriously, I know I should be able to do this being a semi-functional adult but for the first time EVER I don't have to stare at my JD/MD when he asks me when my last period was--seriously dudes. It's not as easy as it sounds).
b. Twitter! Thanks to P&J and their now infamous "I don't know what tiara you're talking about" line of 2011, I felt all things NYE needed to be documented and Twitter seemed the way to do it. PLUS I can be oh so neurotic and girly and LAME and oh so few people know about it! PLUS I can follow my neurotic besties and Michael Ian Black so I can learn all things sarcasm and wit and cunning.
c. French press! I love coffee. PO gave me a *foreveralone* french press that is oh so fashionable and cute and great. Yumzoes on the halfshell.
d. Space heater! Since my own personal space heater, Super Code McGavin, is no longer with us and since I live in Misfit Greyhound Manor and all of the dogs have sleep space issues, my room gets cold. Again, thanks to bff PO I have a space heater! I wake up to warmth! It makes showering *somewhat* enjoyable.
e. my work mates. seriously. these are some of the funniest/nerdiest/most awesome people ever. On the reservation.
f. my non-work mates. Pax! Ables! Jobes! Master E! Slaur! RadPanda! Maux! LadyManLady! Why are you all so awesome! Why can't we all live together with just copious amounts of dogs and booze and dancing and microphones?
News:
1. I need a haircut. I will be taking any and all suggestions
2. I think Type A Jj is back.
2a. I like this plan, I'm excited to be part of it
3. I'm fairly certain I have a crush on a boy.
3a. leSigh
And just for fun.
This is the song I listened to on repeat today, just in case you didn't believe me when I said I was a neurotic shiksa (in my defense I was, to quote Joann, having a bad day):
One day there were three tomatoes walking down the street, a mama tomato, a daddy tomato and a baby tomato. Babytomato is walking too slowly, so the daddy tomato goes back, steps on him and says 'ketchup!' "
*GROAN*
Most of you know the changes that have come about, that will be coming about.
And I feel bad about neglecting you for so long, but I didn't want this blog to just be me whining about how I think I need anti-anxiety meds or a yoga class or to get laid.
So in a nutshell:
I'm single for the first time in almost 11 years.
I'm still crazy after all these years.
Some could say I ended things, but I think that is debatable.
31 is a time, and just like every other break-up I've had (yes, all two of them prior to this one), I have impeccable timing
Breakdowns are not fun at all, especially for those of us who claim we don't have tear ducts
My friends and family are truly awesome and lovely and amazing (hereby referred to as "besties")
He took the Elvis Costello records
I received a wee scholarship to grad school!
Grad school starts on wednesday and I'm stupid excited for it.
I can't believe how much I enjoy the crushing loneliness that is living by myself.
Lines are not easily cast/reeled in/caught/kept
Thank god for the smooth jazz stylings of Tony Bennett/George Benson/Chuck Mangione
Thank god for Neko Case/the New Pornographers/Mates of State and all the other sad bastard music out there
The Brewers are in first. Like for-real first.
This past Saturday night was spent with besties, sipping mai-tai's, while I texted my dad smooth jazz puns regarding above artists and the Brewers; I hadn't laughed that hard in a long time.
Not that it happens often, but I have absolutely no idea what to do with hit-ons by people I find semi-attractive/line worthy
I'm still a super jealous person which is a total first world problem
I just learned about first world problems, from a new bestie
I collect besties like it's my job, but I have tons of new besties that seriously make me guffaw on a daily basis. Yeah, I just said guffaw
This doesn't mean I love the old besties any less.
Make new friends, keep the old. One is silver and the other gold.
Besties, booze and the brewers (andsomesupergooditwasfunwhileitlastedyouknow) have kept me sane through all of this.
It's a bit behind the times.
But.
I told you I got into grad school right?
Yes. I did. I just checked.
Oh.
Technology.
But.
Did I tell you I got a scholarship?!?
I feel a *little* awkward about it as I feel like it's kind of bragging, but I'm also kind of super excited about it.
If memory serves, it was the night I swore off heels (see previous blog post regarding Hobo-Walker), and I was going through the mail before heading out to a friend's house for Bananafest, our semi-regular and oh-so-adult game night.
I still get excited about non-bill mail, and since this was about school I figured it was my registration date or something else that people find utterly mundane but I love.
And there it was "Congratulations. You've been selected to receive the Chancellor's Award For Excellence."
What!?
I couldn't, really, believe it as I didn't even APPLY for a scholarship. But apparently it's an award that the application committee gives out.
And yes, I've looked into it. They don't just give it to everyone (yes, I literally thought that maybe everyone gets a mini-scholarship).
E thinks it may have been my essay I submitted, but I really didn't think it was that great. Was it my reasons statement? Was it just a random selection of newbies?
Most likely, I will never know.
But.
It doesn't affect my financial aid and I think it's pretty cool to quote the Miley Cyrus Show on SNL.
In other grad school news:
I met with my defacto advisor (maybe they were so impressed with my thesis idea/crazy pre-planning and THAT is why they awarded me the scholarship?) and picked my classes.
I will be taking:
Discourse Analysis with the professor who taught my summer linguistics class last summer (and wrote me a recommendation letter!). She actually suggested I take it this past fall, but as I wasn't accepted yet I decided against another "for fun." class.
Intro to Film Studies--Theory and Rhetoric. You are all going to hate me even more than you already do.
Both classes are in the late afternoon and are only one day a week. Work knows and is okay with me leaving early/coming early to get my 40 hours.
The only problem?
I have to wait until FALL to start!
I'm such a nerd.
At least I have my summer reading list to keep up with.
So I've never really, ever, written a book review. And I don't really know how this is going to go.
BUT it just so happens that one of my new favorite websites Bitch Flicks has a reading list over at amazon and since I just can't wait for school to start to get my academic on, I've decided to create a library list of the books!
If you live in Milwaukee, and have a library card, and are (like me) an amnesiac when it comes time to check out books/cds/dvds (what do I get? what was the name of...), the libes has an awesome feature that allows you to build lists! LISTS I SAY!
(Full disclosure; even though I'm a total slob and completely disorganized at all times, I love Love LOVE lists.)
This is incredibly helpful for when, say, you're reading a book review in the paper (it doesn't have to the New York Times Book Review, although it does let me get my pretension on in the comfort of my own home) and you think it sounds right up your alley. You have a myriad of options:
1. Write it down in a notebook you keep of "books to read"
2. Write it down on a piece of paper you will then lose and then find and throw away wondering why you wrote that down.
3. Get on your computer (which most of you have in your phones these days anyway and let's be real, you're not anywhere your phone isn't), login into your acct. and throw it on the list! So super easy!
The lists also enable you request the item if it's not at your local library or you can see where it IS at and seek it out with the help of your friendly (sometimes) librarian.
So while on lunch at work on a particularly lazy/cold day, I decided to create my Bitch Flicks list. They didn't have EVERY book on the list, but I was quite surprised by the amount they did have.
If you can't tell, I love the public library.
So first up on my awesome new feminist reading list (which is not in any particular order) was The Purity Myth by Jessica Valenti. I was super excited to read it as I've read lots about the author in various outlets, she created (or co-created) Feministing.com and she seems pretty cool. AND her name is Jessica!
I loved the book. It made me laugh and got me angry from page to page. While I was one of those kids who grew up in a "no sex until you're married" household, I didn't attend a purity ball (which are federally funded! How awesome is that?!?!). But, I had to work through some major, MAJOR guilt about pre-marital sex. Science facts. (In all fairness, my brother was also held to the same standard as I was and he actually did keep his end of the bargain! Good job, brother!)
It brought back memories of my abstinence only education in jr. high which I thought was great at the time because when I was 13 I was thoroughly convinced that I would be a virgin until I was married. Even though my parents didn't wait, my mom's mom didn't wait, my aunts and uncles didn't wait, no one in the WORLD seemed to wait but I knew that I would, because I was so very pure and smart and NOT SLUTTY.
Some fun facts from my childhood:
Mom, what's a slut?
A slut is someone who has sex before they're married.
(I love my mom, seriously, she is super awesome, and know now that she was just using this as a tactic to ensure that I didn't have sex, but I think this says a lot about our culture)
It was also understood that if I got pregnant while in high school I would be kicked out of the house. Another clever ruse by my mom which was broken when a friend of mine DID get pregnant and had to give the baby up for adoption otherwise her parents would have kicked her out and my mom expressed her disgust at that. When I asked my mom about it she said, "You didn't get pregnant did you?" No I didn't.
I was deathly afraid of getting pregnant because I thought I would get kicked out.
Anys.
The Sex Respect program is what I was taught in jr. high, and it was awesome (I hope at this point that when I use awesome I mean ridick and totally antiquated). A quick visit to their archaic website and I came up with this gem regarding what will happen if you engage in pre-marital sex:
Premarital sex breaks up couples or pushes them into bad marriages. It fools people into marrying the wrong person. It leads to unhappiness, divorce, extramarital affairs, and dissatisfaction. It denies the couples bonding experience.
I'm not saying that pre-marital sex doesn't do this for some people. I'm sure there has to be some basis for this, somewhere no matter how archaic the research on the website is (the mid-80s).
And there is some awesome anti-choice rhetoric on there too, obs, because controlling women's bodies is actually what the virgin thing is about.
I wish I still had the book here so I could quote it, but alas it had to go back to the library. Any further posts in reference to awesome books I will retain so I can share accordingly. And of course the book is full of amazing quotes from abstinence only educators and law-makers who only think religious virgins who were brutally raped should be allowed abortions. Oh if only I were making that up:
BILL NAPOLI: A real-life description to me would be a rape victim, brutally raped, savaged. The girl was a virgin. She was religious. She planned on saving her virginity until she was married. She was brutalized and raped, sodomized as bad as you can possibly make it, and is impregnated. I mean, that girl could be so messed up, physically and psychologically, that carrying that child could very well threaten her life.
And that, unfortunately, is the reason that Ms. Valenti had to write this book and why we need to read it. Because if you're not a virgin, and you get brutally raped/sodomized, it doesn't really count, cos you're already damaged goods.
Not to fret, friends. This isn't a post about everyone's favorite pig-faced governor, this is just about a girl trying to walk in some heels after a night of hcd.
Hard.
Core.
Dancing.
The week/month of concerts/dance parties began on Wednesday night when my bestie, PO and I ventured to see Ra Ra Riot at the Turner Hall. The sound isn't the greatest there, but it's so super old and it's filled with pictures of old Germans, so I kind of HAVE to like it.
Anys. We get there fashionably late, because we're super-fashionable/hot messes all of the time. The first opening band was okay. Nothing too super-special. Just kind of folk-rocky. I see a co-worker who states he may be in attendance on Mad Planet Friday for another co-worker's bday. PO states that one of her co-workers will also be in attendance. Quickly, what was supposed to be a weekend of utter laziness and not going out has turned into a weekend of the yuge.
The concert is not crowded at all and the people watching/judging is in full force.
Hipsters are a tiny, tiny breed.
Our attentions quickly turn to the group of three that is directly ahead of us.
Upon first look we thought it was just a good-time gay with his two lady friends, which made me miss my ventures with J&P.
But the more I eavesdropped, the more I got the feeling that this guy was a het. When one's gaydar is off I always ask myself WWJ/PS?
Would would James/Peter say? And the more I watched, I could hear their running commentary in my head and I was convinced that he was, indeed, a het.
I seemed to have figure this out just in time, as Blondie was ALL OVER his mother-loving self. It was clear to both PO and I that while he was possibly into Blondie, he seemed to have a better connection with Brunette. And for a while, every time Blondie would be all sexy and dancey up on him, he would politely dance out of it and include Brunette, which I thought was nice.
Unfortunately more Pabst was involved and following scene occurred at least three times:
Blondie all swervey and dancey and kissy on him.
He would kiss her back, dance out of it and side up to Brunette.
Rinse and repeat.
Rinse and repeat.
On the one hand, I felt sorry for Brunette because I think she probably did like Plaidy McCurly Hair (he looked kind of like the male teacher on Glee), and I think he liked her. It was just that Blondie was way more aggressive in her drunkenness, and what's the guy going to do? Outrightly refuse the hot blonde who is all over him when his true feelings are for the still-cute-but-not-hot Brunette who isn't all over him whilst drunk?
Come on.
A dude's got needs.
*SIGH*
I think they'll work it out in the end.
(whatamieventalkingabout?!!?)
It should be noted that the above is all conjecture based on eavesdropping and reading body language.
I never said I wasn't judgmental.
Plaidy McCurly Hair left to get more Pabst (of course!) and to take a breather from his reign as Mayor of Makeout City, and a NEW group of three moved to the head of the line.
This time, a dude with two blondes. Luckily for my sanity, this group had a much more platonic feel rather than a thwarted-crush-stealer feel, but still very VERY flirty.
Who knew hipster rock shows were the breeding grounds for threesomes?
The show itself was a good, dancey time.
Sideboard: I don't think I've used the made-up word "dancey" so often. But yet.
It just feels so right.
Another side note:
What if I, homeless Barbie, created a fashion blog?
You too can look homeless, even at work! I actually think it could work.
So don't steal it.
*giggling*
Friday, I'm in love.
Not literally, but there was a super foxy, beardy guy at Mad Planet in a red and blue plaid shirt who was all awkwardly dancing. Adorbs.
Bonus? PO and I both agreed on his foxiness. This happens rarely.
Sadly, he found some tiny little black-haired lady to dance all sexy with.
Boo-hiss on mahnjays.
Other than that, Mad Planet was a ridick good time.
I had a stranger tell me they really liked my hair in the ladies bathroom.
I had a crazy-person-of-friend tell me I was gorgeous twice (I think because she forgot the first time?)
I had another person tell me they liked my shoes (tortuous devices that they are).
They played good music, I created a new non-dance called the Angry Feminist:
Stand with arms crossed, looking mad, eyes slightly slit, occasionally shaking your head back and forth. If outside, smoke a cigarette.
This works exceptionally well if they're playing "Smack My Bitch Up," fyi.
But oh.
To quote EC:
My dogs be barkin'.
Like a genius/boss, it seemed like a wise/fashionably viable thing to wear heels.
They are my COMFY heels, you know.
Bad.
Idea.
Jeans.
By the end of the night I had created not only my new wicked dance move, the Angry Feminist, but also a new walk, The Hobo.
Not only am I Jj Walker-Burch, I'm Jj Hobo-Walker-Burch.
And since it's cold/rainy/snowy there was no way I could have removed the tools of torture after leaving the bar. And so I hobbled/shuffled, like an ancient Japanese woman with bound feet, around pond-sized puddles, muddy lawns and cracks in the sidewalk.
And I KNOW heels are bad for you.
I KNOW that I shouldn't wear them.
Lawd knows I have enough height that I don't HAVE to wear them.
But they're so cute.
And I really love how tall they make me.
If they made flats half as cute as heels, this wouldn't be an issue.
And let's be real.
It's not like I buy them.
Prizes for work events, given to me by other drag-queen-sized-feet-friends, or I DID buy them but it was like 15 years ago.
Instead, I will put my effort into procuring a virtual rainbow of Chuck Taylors Low-Top Allstars.
Because you can wear those with anything.
