For those in the know!

So the anniversary follow-up will have to wait.

I just met, hung out with, and caught a super-secret show by the lovely and talented Miss Amanda Palmer. For those not in the know, she is totally super awesome. And it all came about through the magic of twitter. Basically Amanda was en route from a show in Chapel Hill to Knoxville, and Asheville is exactly in the middle. She played a show here last year (before I moved here) and thought it was cool enough to stop off again. I happened to sign on to twitter just before 3pm, randomly, but it was right after a friend of mine had posted that Amanda would be here. Since that particular friend lives in FL, I can't help but think he posted that just for me. And thank goodness that he did. Jay and I were out the door in a few short minutes.

There were about 30 people waiting in the park. One woman walked up and sat down, and I was like "is that her?" Then that girl waved to everyone, and stood up and started playing the ukelele. This woman:

However, the nearby construction was very noisy. Luckily there was a fan there who worked at a nearby bookstore / coffeeshop, and volunteered that place for the rest of the show. So we headed over as a mob, stopping to listen to another street musician. Amanda even posed for a picture with her sweet axe for us. (Well, for Jay.)

We went inside, and completely surprised the store's patrons with a surprise concert. She was short on time, so she only played 2 songs. (She did play on in the park, but lie I said, it was noisy there.) I got videos of both songs, too!

1.

2. Blogger's video service is being retarded, so just click here for the brief chat on youtube.

3. And click here for the second song on youtube.

Then she had to literally run out the door. I was lucky enough to grab a picture with her as she ran.

I'm the semi-obsessed fan hugging the chick doing a rock kick. :)

weekend fun!

So this weekend we hopped in the car and drove for 2 hours to meet up with the some friends in Charlotte. Well it was more than 2 hours because we stopped on the way to eat at Buffalo Wild Wings, which is one of those places we used to go all the time in Michigan but Asheville is without. I got to meet a few new folks and reconnect with some folks I already knew. Everyone was great, and we were all dressed up. Of course, I forgot my camera so I have to wait til everyone else uploads their pictures so I can steal them.

Besides the Halloween party, I also got to pet lots of horses and go to the Carolina RenFest. Jay and I did bring our RenFest costumes, but something about going to bed at 5am that morning left us too lazy to wear them, so we went in normal clothes. There we saw some shows, ate some food... and pet more horses. The highlight of that part was meeting the giant Clydesdale in the petting zoo, who was completely blind. See? (thanks to Jay for the picture!)

He had a helper dog with him. Not only was the dog "on guard" while people were petting the horse, but we got to see the coolest thing happen: The horse tapped his giant foot against the fence, and the dog mmediately bounded over the fence and ran to the horse's handler. The handler then went and got some food for the horse, and the dog went off duty for a bit.

I'll post pictures from the party as soon as I get some, so stay tuned!

mediocre thrift store adventures

On Saturday we went to go check out a giant new thrift store. While Jay was looking for pants, I wandered away to look for a black cardigan. I'm always on the lookout for a nice black cardigan, but apparently am not allowed to have one. I must have been looking in the wrong sections or something, but there were no cardigans at all in the entire store. (And for the record, the sections I looked in were: sweaters, long sleeve button downs, long sleeves, button downs, and even jackets.)

I did find a cool picture frame though, which I picked up for $2. The weird thing is, someone left the picture in the frame. It was someone's grandma from the late 70s. There was no writing or anything on it, but it was clearly not the standard "filler" picture. I still have the picture, just sitting on my coffee table. It feels wrong to throw it away, but I really have no use for someone else's grandma.

In other news, I finally got around to making some more jewelry. It's been months, but go check out the Rainbow Gemstone Necklace (and you know, buy it).

valentine's weekend, the sober version

ok, update to my drunken ramblings from the other night:

First off, pictures!



I only dyed the front of my hair because I wasn't sure how the purple would take over the reddish-brown, and I hate bleaching my hair unless I absolutely have to. But I think it turned out well, so I may add more. Also in the second pic, you can see one of the shirts I bought on clearance. (The other one is exactly the same, but black.) I love Express, and I love clearance sales, and I love coupons. That is all.

(And because I love to coordinate colors, I painted my nails to match my hair. They don't perfectly match though, because my nails are sparkly and my hair is not. But if they made sparkly hair dye, I would be all over that.)



Speaking of clearance sales, the bookstore in the mall was having a whopper of a clearance sale. Our attention was drawn to the $1 calendars. Yes, it's mid-February and I didn't have 2009 calendars yet. So what? We picked out Star Trek and pictures from the Hubble telescope. Yeah, Jay and I are nerds. But you knew that already. Also, there was a box of books marked 90% off. I couldn't resist, and walked out with 3 new books - The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, 1000 Arabian Nights, and Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift. I could have gotten more, but I couldn't remember if I had the other ones already. These ones I knew I didn't. All in all, we got 2 calendars and 3 books for $4. That ruled.

After my near murderous encounter with the chick not interested in selling me a new phone, I went online and made my order. Starting tomorrow, I will be the proud new owner of an LG Voyager. It's got a touch screen AND a keyboard. Also, at some point I will be able to upgrade my plan so I can do internetty stuff on my phone, and when I do that I won't need to buy a new phone.

So that's it. I know this post made more sense than the last one. BUT this one took me about 1/10 the time to write, as there was no rum involved. Oh! Also, I forgot to mention that I had a bit of a hangover yesterday morning from that aforementioned rum. It was the first time in many many years that I threw up (especially from drinking). It could have been worse though, because the only thing that actually came back up was the ibuprofen I'd taken an hour earlier. Then my tummy hurt for about 15 minutes, and then I was fine. Like I said, coulda been worse.

as promised

Full report on the Rev show, while it's still fresh in my mind:

There were 3 bands, and they all rocked my socks: Backyard Tire Fire, who has been touring for years and never been to Detroit. Nashville Pussy, who I didn't really like until I saw them open for the Rev last time (but damn do they put on a show). And of course, the Reverend Horton Heat, one of my favorite 3-piece rockabilly bands.

Opening bands usually disappoint, but BTF totally rocked it. They were southern rock with ventures into blues and rockabilly. NP has 2 chicks and 2 dudes. The chicks are the key - lead guitar and bass, and damn, they fuckin wail. Seriously, go check out some of the videos. The Rev is always a good show, but I think he was off his game last night. I think he was sick or something - his voice was scratchy and he wasn't his usual showman self. But a bad Rev show is still much better than lots of other "good" shows. Plus, the first 2 bands rocked so hard that it was more than ok.

Now for some of the more interesting details of the concert experience.

The bad:
Because there was a bar there, there were drunk people. And they decided to try and start mosh pits... you know, because it was a speed metal show. Oh wait, no. Rockabilly. Not mosh music. There was one guy in particular - totally smashed and really into "involving" everyone in the crowd in his impromptu shoving and hitting. I'm not sure where the transition is, but at some point he was yelling at Jay for calling security on him. (Jay wasn't the one.) Then he turned to me and we had the following conversation:

-"Hey, would you call security on me if I accidentally bumped into you four times?"
-"Actually dude, you kept hitting the guy in front of me who had a lit cigarette, and the cigarette came very close to hitting me in the eye. So yes, I would have called security on you."
-"It was HER! it was her!" (It wasn't me either.)

This is where he started he started pointing at me, with his finger so close to my face that I could see every grain of dirt under his jagged fingernail. I don't stand for that, so I slapped it away. This really got his bubbles boiling, so he kept doing it. Jay handed me his jacket so he could teach this guy that you don't point at a lady like that. Drunk Guy warned Jay that "you don't know who you're messing with - I'm a five time felon!" That was clearly a total lie, but Jay was ready to get him out of society's hair. Luckily Drunk Guy's friend stepped in and ushered DG out, and semi-apologized to Jay, and DG left the concert unscathed (at least by us).

Then came the awesome part where Drunk Guy #2 spilled beer on me. Not just a little bit - it was all over my hair, my face, my arm, my boobs, and my jacket, which was tied around my waist. He felt pretty bad about it, though he never came through on buying me a drink like he said he would. And that didn't change the fact that I was wearing a satin shirt and had wet beer boobs for most of the night. (It's not as hot as it sounds, trust me.)

I spent most of the show up front near the stage, but eventually had to retire to the edge of the crowd because a group of drunk chicks were trying to mimic previously mentioned Drunk Guys. Drunk Chicks kept trying to start their own little mosh pit, but could barely stand up on their own so it failed miserably. They did keep shoving my new friend Concert Buddy because she was dancing on her own and not touching anybody. I had to leave that area because one Drunk Chick kept leaning on me and shoving me, and rather then give her a beatdown I went to go find the boys.

The good:
I mentioned Concert Buddy already. We had the unspoken bond that exists between 2 concert goers just out to have a good time. We danced next to each other and knew that we had each other's back if someone like Drunk Chick needed to be shut up. In fact, when DC kept shoving her, Concert Buddy would throw 'bows and punches trying to get them to leave her alone. She was careful not to hit me, because she knew I wasn't the one being a retarded drunk bitch. Sadly, DC finally got too annoying, and Concert Buddy disappeared before I got to tell her that she was awesome and cute and I totally loved her hair.

When I finally left to go find the boys, they were hanging with... the chicks from NP. That's right. Jay got them to sign his concert flier, and I had the following discussion with the guitarist (who is shorter than me, btw).

-"Hey man, you guys are pretty good for chicks" (nudge nudge wink wink)
-"Fuck, I ROCK like a chick, man!"
-"Fuck yeah you do!"
-"And I throw like a girl!"
-"Yeah!"
-"And I'll fuckin hit like a girl too!"
-"Fuck yeah!"

At this point she gave me a leaning-hug, as she was also quite drunk. (Also as in like a lot of the people of the show, not me.)

This morning I am stiff from being so jostled, but I had a super great time. It was worth the 8 month wait. Incidentally, for some reason they didn't let me keep my ticket stub, but I did get a giant Rev sticker in exchange because I happened to be at the right place at the right time. Sorry for the long post, but you know, things to share.



ps - don't blame NP for their name, which is a bit crass and off-putting. Blame Ted Nugent, who of course is from the D.

my life is like a r*ller coaster

I feel like I'm hungover, even though I'm very not. Turns out I was high on life - and on roller coasters. Yesterday we went to Cedar Point, which is the only awesome thing Ohio has to offer (except for a few choice people that live there - you know who you are!).

I haven't been on a roller coaster in probably about 4 years, and I learned / remembered the following things:

I love roller coasters, but I don't like the kind that are regular sit-down, with just a bar going over your lap. (This includes the old wooden ones.) I like shoulder braces. They make me feel much more secure, like I'm not going to fall to my death. And, I generally get banged around less with shoulder braces. Notice I said less, as I still have a few injuries that prove it's not "not at all." Also, for some reason, the initial hill in sit-down coasters freaks me the hell out. I can handle it fine on the other kinds. But that slow, slow ascent. I can't handle it. Part of that is probably when I look over the side, it is just fall. There is not even a couple of inches' worth of platform to save me if I go careening over. And to make it slightly more terrifying, Cedar Point is right on Lake Erie. So when I look over, I see just lake. I'm not afraid of heights - I'm afraid of falling. They are 2 different fears, which longtime readers may remember me covering in this blog before.

My fave kind of coaster is the kind where your feet dangle freely. There are shoulder braces to hold you in tight (yay!) but your feet and legs rise and fall and sway with the momentum and g-forces. We went on one like this yesterday, the Raptor, and it was ever so much fun. We even bought a souvenir video of it - there was a camera positioned directly in front of us, so you can see our faces during the whole ride. I will post this as soon as I get it converted from DVD to youtube- compatible.

Also, I'm very clingy. I'm not the chick that raises her arms and rides hands-free the whole time. I'm the chick holding on to the handles. The sit down ones don't have convenient handles - they are on the lap belt. That makes me feel like I'm going to be flung out. Shoulder braces usually have handles on the actual braces, so I can almost give myself a hug during the ride. Everyone knows that hugs are the most secure things ever.

So anyway, I've got a large bruise on my knee, and my shoulder is jacked up from sometime when I jammed it. And we slept a lot last night - even though we left the park before closing (and before our friends) we had a 3-hour drive ahead of us. We came home, hit the bed, and slept for like 12 hours. Exactly what you'd expect from a long day where we woke up early, spent several hours on our feet, and got the crap kicked out of us.

Motor City Comic Con, or why I hate Walter Koenig

Today we went to the Motor City Comic Con. It's apparently the biggest comic book convention in MI. But there weren't too many comic book people I was interested in there. However, there were a few celebrities I was interested in seeing.

After getting a late start due to last night's shenanigans*, we drove the hour or so and paid our $20 admission fees (thanks Jay!). We immediately saw the line for an autograph by Billy Dee Williams (you remember Lando Calrissian, right?). It was a very long line, so we did not partake. But we snapped this (and I apologize for the graininess):


But then something else caught our eye:


That's right, it's the Monkee Mobile. Mickey Dolenz was there too, but we didn't get his autograph either.

I'm not too much of a car person (yet - more details on that at a later date) but there was one car I was excited to see. Jay said "Oh look, it's KITT" and I said what? and he said "KITT! From Knight Rider!"
I turned around and saw the awesome black car and squealed something to the effect of "ohmygodIloveKnightRiderEEEEEEEE" but then caught myself, and in a very calm, demure fashion, said "oh, isn't that interesting." Then I took a bunch of pictures of it.


No, I couldn't touch it, and no it didn't talk. And there was no Hoff to be seen. But I was still excited.

You can see the General Lee in the background there, which had the photo ops of standing next to it ($5) or sitting in it ($10) which I didn't want. Actually there were 2 General Lees, but one of them had Ontario plates and that confused me. I shoulda gotten a picture of that, but I was too distracted by KITT.

And then - I saw Walter Koenig, aka Chekov from Star Trek. It was then that I realized I coulda brought my Star Trek photo that is signed by Shatner. Koenig coulda signed it too, I thought. Nobody is talking to this guy. So I walk right up and make small talk. It is then that I find out that Walter Koenig is a very grumpy man, and apparently he hates conventions. I also find out that it costs 30-something dollars to get an autograph, and $25 to take a picture of him with my own camera. I didn't find these things out directly from him, either. They were via his mouthpiece manager, who was sitting right next to him, also not smiling. I think I got "hi" out of Koenig himself, but since I was not willing to fork over obscene amounts of cash, that was all I got.

Throughout our romp at the con, I kept bitterly peeking over at Koenig. He was never smiling, even when someone did shovel out the dough to be in a picture with him. This was the happiest I ever saw him:


So I was mad at him. Why come to a thing like this if you're not going to enjoy it? Well I guess if you have nothing better to do...

Next to my new arch nemesis was Alan Ruck, aka Cameron from Ferris Bueller. Nobody was talking to him either. So I marched up, and he was smiling. Then I had the following conversation with Cam:

me: Are you having fun here?
Cam: Yeah, this is a blast! Who's not having fun?
me: Koenig. He's very grumpy.
Cam: Oh, he might pretend to hate these things, but he loves em. That's just him.
me: Well he does a very convincing job of it.

Autographs & pictures with Cam were also more than I could afford, but if I was going to spend that kind of dough on someone, it would be him. He was awesome and totally nice, and genuinely happy to see me. And I respected him so much for that, that I didn't even snap a cameo like with the others.

After a little while, we left. I didn't have any specific comics I was looking for, and all the celebs wanted crazy amounts of money (Lou Ferrigno and Erik Estrada, I'm talking to you too!). So we went home. There were lots of people in costume, but it wasn't as much fun as say, a sci-fi convention would be. So I'm sure I'll go to one of those soon and you'll hear all about how I had to fight Walter Koenig, and how George Takei would totally help me.




* By shenanigans, of course I mean that we stayed up late to watch Craig Ferguson, thus resulting in the oversleeping.

cowboy day

On Saturday,I went to the Detroit Downtown Hoedown. It's not really my scene, but for free admittance* what the heck? Well there were a lot of people there. A lot. So, I did what I always do, and took pictures of trees. (As always, click on them to enlarge.)



See what I mean about the people? And in the 2nd one, you can see all the BBQ smoke. With all the people. One person followed us for a while talking to me about my tattoo. Then continued to follow us when we thought we were done talking. And then one of the guys from the Shell promo booth told Jay and I that are so cute that we should get our picture taken. We agreed we were cute, but alas and alack, no pictures of either Jay or I exist from the Hoedown.

But I did get a picture of the cool space age fountain:


And the cool lights for the fountain:


At one point I got separated from my friends when I stopped to take pictures of the Detroit River. Oh yeah, that's totally Canada.


Here's the Ambassador Bridge, which connects Detroit to Windsor, Ontario.


So yeah. I spent my "cowboy day" taking pictures of Canada. That's very cowboy, no?



* Free except for the $15 parking and $7 beers. What is this, am I back in NYC?

crap faire

Several weeks ago, a flier appeared on the door to my apartment building advertising a craft / bake sale in the office, which is across the parking lot, about 40 feet away from my patio. When I first saw the paper sign taped up, the thought briefly entered my mind that I should sell my crap there. (By crap, I of course mean that jewelry I make.) Just as quickly, the thought left my brain never to return, even while ignoring the still-taped flier day in and day out.

Then yesterday, all these cars pulled up in front of the office (and thus, in front of my apartment). Even trucks and vans with company logos on them. It took us a second to realize that this was the fabled craft faire we'd heard so much about. We finished up whatever we were doing, no rush, and wandered the 40 feet to see what was the dillio.

The booth right next to the door was filled with some sort of hideous cardstock picture frames, with lettered beads glued onto them. Pass. There were several unimpressive jewelry booths. Not that they didn't have nice stuff, but as one who makes jewelry, I wouldn't have bought any of it. And I didn't. Then some lady ejaculated (!) that she loves my shoulder tattoo. This is perfectly normal, as I have random people in bars taking pictures of it and am always getting compliments on it. I smile and say thanks like the polite little girl I am. Then: "let me sign you up to win some free hand lotion from Mary Kay." I gave a long (valid) excuse involving sensitive skin, she tries to convince me that I still want horrible lotion, which I don't, so I walk away.

Pause: Craft faire? Since when is me helping someone get a horrible pink cadillac a craft? And the booth next to it was Cookie Lee, which is the ugly mass-marketed jewelry version of Mary Kay. So another non-craft. As for the "bake" part of the craft / bake sale, there was one booth selling baked goods. Even though I was hungry, I didn't look at it. Dismayed Satisfied, we made the long trek back home.

It worked out that I did not provide my services as an artiste. It was mostly a retirement-community crowd there buying things, and I have been told by potential mothers in law that my jewelry is "too young." But like everything, it made for a (semi) interesting story.

bowling

As a Midwesterner, I've done a lot of bowling lately. Bowling is one of those things that people do here. In NYC I didn't bowl once. In CA, if I went, I would tell people about it and the standard response was "I haven't been bowling in years!" But here, it's a weekly thing, if not more. There are actually times when we can't bowl because the wait for a lane is too long. And there are bowling alleys every few blocks, unlike in my college town where there was one and you even had to be a student to use it.

So, since Jay and I are now bowlers (though he never really *stopped* being one) we decided we needed them there fancy shoes. Technically I already have some, but I wear them out on the street, so I can't wear them on the lanes. So, we pay our deposit to rent some shoes, and well, we keep them. I feel ok about doing this because we go to this same bowling alley just about every weekend, bringing lots of people that pay money, and we are using the shoes for their intended purpose. Because the shoes were, shall we say, ugly, and obvious rentals, we purchased some spray paint to do some decorating. Mine are now all white with silver & gold highlights and Jay's are black with the same.

So Saturday (apparently while this was happening in our apartment complex), we decide to use our "new" shoes. We start out the day at our normal alley without incident. Then later we are in a different part of town with a different friend, and we go to a different alley. Yes, that's bowling twice in one day. Cranky Old Lady #1 eyes us suspiciously when only one of the 3 of us needs shoe rentals. She demands to see Jay & my shoes, inspects them practically with a magnifying glass, and calls over Cranky Old Lady #2. COL#2 goes over the shoes with a fine-toothed comb and declares "these are house shoes, but they're not ours." We're all a bit confused, and Jay says "no, they're bowling shoes." COL#2 glares at him and continues talking to COL#1 about us. It's decided that we can use our own shoes this time, but next time we'll still have to pay the rental fee. Then a statement of the rules is pretty much shoved in our faces. It says that any shoes brought in are subject to inspection at any time, and customers still have to pay the rental fee.

Why would customers still have to pay the rental fee if they're bringing in their own shoes? Isn't that the point of having your own shoes? And you would think anyone that has their own shoes would be a repeat customer. However if you are a Cranky Old Lady and you are rude to your customers, they won't be. As I said, there are lots of other bowling alleys around. And this is beside the point, but what does it matter where we got our shoes?

But we were there to bowl, and even though there were lots of empty lanes, we were put right next to some other folks so he had to share a ball rack and a table with them. You know, no personal space. While we were drinking a pitcher of beer out of cute little juice glasses, we decided that because of the COLs and their rudeness to us, we were never coming back to that alley. Not to mention that I totally whacked my thigh with a bowling ball, which hurt like a monkeyfunker and I completely blamed it on the alley.

And that's how we got new juice glasses at our house.

super des strikes again

Apparently I need to be wearing tank tops all the time. I do, normally during the summer, but right now it is February in Michigan. Frickin cold. But that's why I have nice warm coats, so I can be toasty warm when I go outside, but remove my layers when I am settled at my destination.
The key is my super awesome tattoo. Tank tops have this wonderful ability to show it off, and I become Miss* Popular.

This happened last night when we ate dinner at the Black Lotus Brewery, which is my new favorite place. There was no live music like last time I was there, but I still had a rockin good time. Here's what went down:

When we arrived, the waitress came over to take our drink orders. They didn't have my new regular, the Honey Hemp Ale, which is very tasty even for a non beer-drinker like me, so I ordered something else. Apparently the waitress was spending more time concentrating on my pretty flowers than on the order because she went back and told the rest of the staff about me. I didn't notice this because I was busy concentrating on having to pee. However, on my way to the bathroom to take care of this urgent business, 2 waitresses (waitri) stopped me to "check out my ink." Dark Haired Waitress (names have been changed to protect the innocent) showed me her tattoos, which did involve the slight removal of pants, and tried really hard to convince me to go to the Motor City Tattoo Expo next month. Then she promised to give me the card of her tattoo artist. I took my chance to thank her and run away to the bathroom, before everyone was less impressed with my coolness because I was about to pee on myself.

I went back to my seat, and was periodically visited by Dark Haired Waitress, Blond Waitress (who also was in charge of bringing our food and drinks), and new addition to the group, Male Waitress, or "Waiter." They took turns swarming around us, until we had all shown each other all our tattoos. Blond Haired Waitress seemed a little reluctant to share hers because it was faded from her adventures in a tanning salon, but we saw it eventually. Waiter even took the liberty of moving my shirt strap a little so he could see the penguin better. Soon Dark Haired Waitress showed up and plopped her pink phone down in front of me. She didn't have the card for her tattooist, but here's his number. Then she walked away to continue working, and I remarked to my dinner companions how very odd it was that this chick trusted me, a complete stranger, enough to leave me with her cell phone.

I copied the number into my own phone, for when I do need to get more tattoos. Of course, that won't be for some time as I don't have a job yet. Why don't I have a job yet? Didn't I have an interview yesterday before the excitement at the Brewery? Why, yes, yes I did. However, it was the lamest interview ever. The Pharm Manager just recited memorized standard form questions at me. "What was your favorite job that you ever had, and why? What was your least favorite job that you ever had, and why? Tell me about a time that a customer asked you to do something illegal, and how did you respond. Tell me about a time that your supervisor asked you to do something illegal, and how did you respond." (At this point I had to deviate from my lame-ass standard form answers and break the news that none of my supervisors have ever asked me to do anything illegal.) There were several more questions along this vein, and then I had to take the stupidest skill assessment test ever invented. "If you need to give someone $7.68 in change, what bills would you use for this?" This went on for about 20 minutes, answering incredibly mundane multiple choice questions. By the end of the "interview" I had already decided that I wouldn't cry if I didn't get this job. Then on the way to funner and better things, I realized how damn far away the store is from my home, and decided once and for all that I would not be working there.

So in order for me to continue impressing my new besties at the brewery, I will have to find some other means of getting money so that I can get new tattoos. Oh and also to fund my eating and drinking at the brewery. It was made very clear to me that they expect to see me again very soon.





* Notice it's Miss Popular and not Mrs, because I did not marry into this title. I earned it all on my own. Go me!

mad skillz

I haven't had internet for days. Days! I'm going a little nuts. But I do have some stuff to tell.

For one, I got the Best Camera Ever. It meets all my requirements:
1.It's tiny, so I can carry it all around with me. This means less phone shots.
2.It has a macro setting AND a super macro setting. So so so so useful when a girl makes as much fine jewelry as I do and needs to see details.
3.In addition to the other 20 or settings, it has a setting specifically for fireworks. Have you seen my fireworks pictures?
4.It also has a self-portrait mode, for taking pictures like this:

5.It has a super big, clear LCD screen to view the awesome pictures it takes.
6.It takes awesome pictures.
7.It's blue. Blue is fun. In fact, the blueness is what drew Jason's eye to it, and he is what drew my attention.

The camera was purchased on Friday, which turned out to be among the Best Days Ever. There was this thing called a "snowstorm" so Jason couldn't make the hour and a half drive to work. Damn shame, that. So we had a nice relaxing morning with a yummy breakfast, then set out for adventures. We ended up at Dave and Buster's, which it turns out is the Best Place Ever. It's a bar / restaurant AND a giant arcade. They have regular video games and the kind that gives out tickets. We played for a while on the machines that have coins in a big pile, and as you add coins, a shelf pushes them, and when any fall over the edge you get tickets. That was fun for a while, and then we saw the Jumprope Machine.

The Jumprope Machine is basically a big lighted disc with a mat in front of it. Colored lights give the appearance of spinning around like a jump rope. When it gets to the bottom, you jump over it and the mat senses whether or not you virtually trip over the rope and fall flat on your face. Now a little background on me. When I was a kid, I was jumping rope at every recess. My elementary school had a jump roping team. I was on it. There was a jump-a-thon for heart disease. I did that and kicked heart disease's ass. I won a special award for jumping even with a sprained ankle. I knew all the tricks, like double- and triple-unders. Double dutch? I was a pro. You give me a rope and I could jump over it.

So of course I wanted to show off my mad skillz (and make sure I still had them). The first round, I jumped my darndest and won some tickets. I think I inadvertently cheated because the ticket-giver was jammed, which means I'm pretty positive that I got some tickets that the people before me should have gotten but were too impatient to call over the maintenance guy. But whatevs.

I went back for more, after a break. This time, I won. I jumped and jumped and didn't make any virtual mistakes. Then all the machine's lights went off. Then they all came back on, flashing and making noise and generally causing a ruckus. I heard someone behind me yell Winner! and applause, and I turned around. Suddenly there appeared behind me about 15-20 people that were definitely not there when I started. I raised my arms in triumph, and turned back to the machine to hide the fact that I was laughing in astonishment at the magical crowd. It took a few minutes for my hundreds of tickets to pour out of the machine, but not as long as some lady that had "played" another game* and was receiving tickets for seriously 45 minutes straight.

We checked out the options for our bucketful of tickets and weren't incredibly thrilled with anything, so we decided to save them for another day. We had originally planned to go see the Djangofest in Downtown Detroit, but apparently had spent several more hours playing videogames than either of us had realized, so we ended up missing the start of the show. Our fallback plan is always karaoke, so we headed there. I think I had spent all my little energy jumping like a madwoman (besides the fact that I had only eaten nachos, so there wasn't much energy to expend in the first place) so I wasn't really feelin the karaoke. That didn't stop me of course, but my Stray Cat Strut and Crazy Little Thing Called Love weren't my best works. However, Jay repeated his performance of Big Balls, and finally got the reception he deserved. I've said it before, that boy can put on a show.

In between songs, we made a few new friends. One was Alison, wearing a tank top and baseball cap and doing "fagulous!" She, like everyone, said that Jay and I are absolutely gorgeous, so that won her over in our favor. Then she realized that we are cool people in addition to being really really ridiculously good looking and bought us a round of drinks and a pitcher of beer. The drinks went drunk (maybe a mistake on my part) but the pitcher stayed put.

On our other side was Lonely Jennifer. I officially gave her that name, but she practically gave it to herself by the way she was acting. She confessed that she never goes out, and was drawn to Jay and I because we are so "young and good looking." She was a nonstop talker, and even called us out on it when we were discussing this point amongst ourselves. At one point she made me feel her hair. (Creepy!) We were about to ditch her when our old friend from New Year's, Magic Dave, appeared. He showed us a new magic trick and we thanked him by giving him our untouched pitcher of beer and introducing him to Jennifer. Then we left the bar, speculating on what would happen between Lonely Jennifer and Magic Dave.





* I say "played" because neither Jason nor I nor anybody else ever saw her actually playing. She was just standing there while tickets flew out. We wondered if maybe the same thing happened to her that happened to me at first, where she got other people's tickets in addition to hers. But it went on for so long we figured she must be just that good.

long live the Rev!

You all should know by now that I had been trying to see the Reverend Horton Heat for a very long time now. 6 years, is it? And it's not that I became a fan and was like, oh I'll go to that show someday. No it was like every year he came to Sacramento, sometimes multiple times, and every year I was out of town on that date. Every year. That made me immensely upset.

But now I live in the Big City, where so many bands come through that I can no way afford to go see them all (I don't have to mention that ticket prices here are not as we say cheap). But I got word that the Rev was comin 'round. I checked my calendar out of old habit. Wait a minute! November 16 is a Friday! I won't be out of town until Saturday! Yes, that's right folks. The universe narrowly missed a chance to thwart me once again. I think I uttered a little (read:big) yelp of surprise and utter joy (surjoy), so much so that when C came into the room, I was already buying tickets. Since C has seen me suffer through my years of Revlessness, I was able to buy a ticket for him too.

Then the day came.

The opening band is one I have never liked. Their name is Nashville Pussy. So I planned on taking my sweet time getting to the show because it would be *ok* if I missed them, just this once. But even after a leisurely dinner accompanied by strawberry-pineapple juice (yum!) we were still early. There was no coat check, so we stuck out a place along the rear wall lest some asshat hillbilly spilled beer on my warm fuzzy coat or my Good Time Tiger (that's a backpack shaped like a tiger that goes fun places with me) and des would have to choke a bitch.

This is the point in the evening where I discovered that there were bathroom attendants. As I made clear when I saw Dick Dale, I hate bathroom attendants. I do not need someone to do the following:
1. turn the water on for me
2. pour soap in my hand
3. (not) turn the water off
4. hand me half of a paper towel. Now, I'm frugal with my paper towel usage, but seriously, half is not enough to dry even my tiny hands.
So anyway this person did all that, and since I hadn't planned on having it done for me, I did not give her a tip. It was not a service that I wanted and to tip her would only encourage more of the same.

Back to the show.
NP was still craptastic, but they are good at what they do. The chick guitarist and bassist had the rock thing going on, one sporting a fishnet shirt with black bra, the other wearing a low cut denim vest which showed her bright red bra. The singer looked like that dude you see angrily yelling at passing cars while sitting in his lawn chair, drinking a beer in front of his trailer. This is the look they were going for, and they pulled it off. I cut them some slack because I *do* like live shows, and they managed to do that thing that I like that makes the bass line pound in your chest outbeating your heart. Plus I had a rum & pineapple to kill the time. So NP wasn't as bad as I'd prepared myself for. I still wouldn't see them by themselves, but as a first act, whatever.

Up next was Hank III. You may have heard of his father, Hank Williams, Jr, or his grandfather, regular Hank Williams. Hank III's band was drums, a steel guitar, a fiddle, an acoustic guitar, and an upright bass. I felt like I was in a honky tonk bar and I loved it. I also realized that a cute cowboy twang isn't so bad. That is until Hank changed his vest and took off his cowboy hat to reveal long metal hair. There were a coupla switches on stage, and my cute little country band turned into a hardcore / death metal band that was so bad that I seriously considered shooting myself as a way out. Luckily, I had no gun. But I was in a really bad mood for the rest of the set, not helped by the drunken frat boys being overly homoerotic and invading my space a little too much (read: when they stepped on me and I kicked them with my doll shoes, they did not notice).


This tiny dot is Hank when he was still all cute and country:



Then came the Rev. The upright bass had flames on it. The Rev himself wore a bright orange blazer. I knew my 6 years of Reverend Frustration had paid off. They played lots of songs I knew, including a cover of Black Sabbath's Paranoid, which when done in rockabilly form and sung by the drummer, is actually quite good. They did not play my favorite song, New York City Girls, which was so disappointing because if you're gonna play that, now would be the time. Plus he kept talking about how pretty the girls are here (thank you) and how ugly-as-sin the guys are. That last part made me laugh uproariously because, well, the Rev is from Texas. He also kept being a jerk to this drunk guy up front who kept climbing on stage. Note to self: do not go see the Rev and be retarded and keep jumping on stage. The Rev has a silver tongue that will cut you down and make you look like quite the fool.

These tiny dots are the Rev and co:



** note **
This post was originally written on 11/17 at 8:38 in the AM, the morning after the concert. However, I had to leave for a plane that day (which I did, 20 minutes late thanks to this) and so left off thinking that I would remember all the details and my review would be just as good when I came back. So uh, no, it wasn't. Sorry about the incomplete post, but sometimes my brain gets wiped clean and there is nothing I can do about it.
I think you get the gist, though.


ps - the one failing if my cameraphone is that it does not do distance shots. This I know.

party recap

I had a party last night in my shiny new apartment. It wasn't just a lawyer party. My friends were there too, which made it the best party ever. I got to meet Jessabean, who was up for the weekend.* I was able to realize that most of my friends are short like me, and most of C's friends are tall like him. I got to meet a couple new people and hear a variety of wonderful stories.

We supplied snacks and booze, and people brought their own too. Nobody drank the rum or pineapple juice except for me, which means that I have whole bunch of these things left just for me... for whenever I want. We were also given a bunch of wine, which is cool because I will drink that too. I won't list all the other great edibles and drinkables because I don't want to make you jealous.

Our guests were very tidy, so the cleanup was minimal. Actually for me, the cleanup was nonexistant. No, I take that back - I had to sweep some dorito crumbs off the couch when someone tried to "help" me dispose of the doritos. One, I did not need his help, and two, he didn't really help by smushing them into the couch. But for all the fun I had, sweeping doritos is not a bad price to pay.

The cat was the hit of the party. Instead of hiding in the bedroom all night, he continually made the rounds to check up on us. Everybody loved him and he was often sought out. Poor Jess had the unfortunate timing that comes with being the first to the party (we went to dinner with her & her bf) and trying to pet the cat while C was pouring ice into the sink. The loud noise startled the cat, he assumed it came from Jess, and he wouldn't be her friend for the rest of the night. That was pretty sad.

Today I'm hangin around in my pajamas. I'm not sick or anything (I did only have just over one drink) but there's nothing else to do. It's cold outside and I'm off until Tuesday when the new store opens. I kinda felt inspired to write things, which immediately left as soon as I sat down. So you got this.






*I have photographic evidence of this meeting, but am too lazy to deal with it right now.

mandatory Halloween post

Yeah I know I'm late. But my real Halloween adventures weren't until the day after... so.

First a picture of the Devil in a Blue Dress and her junkie boyfriend.


I want to point out that my new tattoo matches the design on my dress. Nobody is more coordinated than me!

I also want to point out that while doing C's makeup, I actually got a little sick from the track marks on his arm and the fake blood. I know I'm squeemish, but damn, that's a good job to make the makeup artist sick. On the way to the party, C kept getting double takes. We live near a hospital and passed a few people in scrubs who looked seriously concerned. But I assure you, it's every bit a costume. I guess it's a compliment that it was so realistic?

As for me, you know I just wanted an excuse to wear that dress, which I still love. And since I had coated my devil horns in glitter (because glitter makes everything better) they ended up matching my dress as well.

I'm sure there's more I can write about the party, but fah. The important thing here is the picture.

girl anachronism

A recent conversation with a friend pointed out the following inconsistencies:

I like to go out, but I hate being around people.

I love compliments, but I hate to be hit on.

I'm lazy, but I get tired of being at my house.

My actions make perfect sense to me, just not to those around me. If it's too far away or too hard to get to, I will forgo fun to not have to deal with it. I want everything to come to me. In CA, my house was a good hangout. We had drinks, music, and all sorts of fun things. Plus, there was nowhere to go out to in that town. I guess I got used to that and was spoiled, because guess what? There's always somewhere to go and something to do in NYC. However, it takes more money, and that is something I don't ever have.

So anyway, everyone should come hang out in my hood, all the time. kthanks.




ps here's today's horoscope:
In your trickster mode, you've been known to pull rabbits out of hats, but now the pressure to do magic can get in the way of good results. Instead of relying on magic, it might be smarter to fall back on good old-fashioned hard work. If you stay focused on being true to your feelings, it still could appear easier than it really is.

So, no magic at the bookstore. I think that would really get results, both in doing my job and entertaing / shutting up the kids. There's so much pressure.

ah, to be a grownup

The dinner party was one of those types of parties. A grownup party. Smooth jazz was on the radio as we met up. We talked about grownup things like jobs and presidential campaigns*. We had a little wine with our fancy dinner. We all agreed dinner was tasty and during the course of the meal we had gone through 3 bottles of wine between the 5 of us.

Then it started to devolve. The first step was our hosts having us sample a vanilla liquer that had been recently procured from Mexico. Too sweet, but we used cordial glasses to taste it. Very grownup. Somewhere along the line, early 90s hip hop was playing and we finished off a bottle of vodka (coupla shots each) that our hosts wanted to be rid of. Then a bottle of tequila appeared, and it was the only kind of tequila that des will even consider drinking (Patron). But after 2 (two?) shots of that, des left the dining room because she had reached her limit. Actually, she had gone past her limit, as had everyone.

Now normally at this stage, the conversation further devolves, into more childish topics. What were we doing? I somehow ended up with a pocket-sized copy of the US Constitution (you mean your friends don't each have one? You clearly do not hang out with lawyers.) and was reading aloud as the others shouted out their fave amendments. "Read the 13th! Now the 22nd!" and sometimes would recite along with me, from memory. Frankly, I'm amazed that I could even read at that point, but I guess that's my sad superpower.

Even though I was ... not as healthy as I could have been the next day, I still chuckled over the fact that my friends are the biggest nerds ever. And have re-affirmed my self-promise to not drink that much. I wouldn't want to be caught reading the onstitution in public. I just have no self control. Alcohol makes one do crazy things.






*Ok, I admit, I wasn't really participating. But I was there listening.

bachelorette party

Thursday after the spa (see previous post), we had just enough time to half-eat some In 'n Out and throw on our party clothes for the Best Bachelorette Party Ever. (Keep in mind that I, as maid of honor, organized the whole shindig, so I'm biased.) I had a new dress that I had just bought on ebay that someone handmade and it was totally cute, even though it showed a bit more boob than I'm used to. Here's me doing what I was doing all night: adjusting my dress so my ta-tas weren't hanging out all over.


We felt a little bit silly waiting for the BART train all glammed up, (especially since there was an A's game on the way, and people were for some reason convinced we were going there) but we didn't really have a choice. We needed a way to get to San Francisco that didn't involve driving. After we got there, we started a-walking to dinner and realized that we were all freezing because of the ice wind that was coming in directly off the bay. So we did the city gal thing and took a cab for 6 blocks. Then we got to Lime and met up with the couple others who hadn't gone to the spa with us.

I've been to this place once before, but not for dinner. Last time I was there it was New Year's Eve and I remember spending lots and lots of money on tasty tasty (expensive) drinks. But tonight wasn't about drinks. This part was about tiny food. I packed away a few tiny grilled cheeses, (and 2 white cosmos, mmmmm) and we were off to sing karaoke.

We were jazzed up enough now that we didn't mind walking the few blocks down Market Street to The Mint. We sought out seats, some of the others bought drinks (I didn't, because like I said, the night was not about drinking), and immediately put our names in to sing. We found out that they are kind of strict at the Mint, and you are only allowed to have your name in once - even in a group setting. So I put it in for one of my old standards. At one point the "KJ" came to let us know it would be a while before any of us sang, but I told her that we were leaving at 11. Then, totally cool, she bumped us up so we could leave on time (we had to go meet the limo!). Everyone was really cool at the club, and even those singers that weren't that talented had lots of support from the audience. Even the guy who sang Lay Lady Lay in his worst Bob Dylan voice.

Soon, I was next. However, first a transvestite had to sing Unchained Melody. Normally that's a cringe-worthy karaoke song, but this guy rocked it.


Seriously the best singer all night. And yes, that's a big muscley guy in a little black mini-dress.
And what a joy for me to get up and follow this amazing act, with my little Madonna impression? But aside from not being able to hear the music at all (that's why we only sing songs that we know too well, people!), Like a Prayer went off without a hitch. My friends tell me at one point, someone yelled "show us your nipples!" but that wouldn't have happened anyway because I was wearing funny little flower ... coverings. After I sang, most of the rest of our group sang, and then true to our word, we left right after.

There was our limo waiting for us. While the others giggled and smoked, I worked out a few last details with the driver, and we were on our way to the Cat Club. Is it a coincidence that we there on Thursday night, and every Thursday happens to be 80's night? I think not! (I'm a damn good party planner.) That was loads and loads of fun, dancing to all the coolest 80's songs, all of us singing along to every word. Here's a picture I took of myself dancing:


There's also some random person there who doesn't seem to be dancing at all.

After dancing ourselves silly for a few hours, it was once again time to ride in the limo. We piled in, drank some champagne, and made our way home. The limo driver's name was George, and he was very nice. There was some question the next day about whether his tip had been included in the bill, but it had, so all was right because he definitely deserved it.

There were a coupla minor hangovers the next day (not me of course!) but this is why we don't do the party the night before the wedding. Besides the fact that the rehearsal dinner was already that night. But that's another story altogether, and it's not actually that interesting.

Next up: the actual wedding!

spa day

After leaving Chicago, I went on to CA for the wedding. The wedding was on Saturday, so on Thursday, me, the bride, another bridesmaid, and an "honorary" bridesmaid went to Versailles Spa and Salon. The bride was taken away immediately because she was having lots of things done (legs waxed, hair done, nails) whereas us 3 bridesmaids were just having our nails done.

We were ushered into the "retreat" room, a curtained-off room where we were served sparkling apple cider and there was a stereo to listen to soothing music while we gabbed excitedly. Every few minutes someone would stop by to ask if there was anything we needed, and soon, we were pretty much ordered to go eat the food that was prepared for us. It was nothing terribly fancy, just a plate of vegetables and dip, yummy yummy strawberries, and cookies. But we ate it good.

At one point the bride stopped back in, and we all ooed and awwwed about her newly waxed legs. Then she disappeared again. But, now it was our turn. I was led away to my manicure, the other bridesmaid was led into the pedicure room, and the honorary bridesmaid flitted back and forth between us. Teresa did my nails, and she was very good. Even though I have long nail beds in my fingers, sometimes my nails are short and nubby (as they were this day). So, Teresa put some white tips on them, following my specifications to make them "long, but still functional." It was a very involved process, and since I'd never gotten my nails done professionally before, I had no idea what half of the things were. It was basically smoothing, fitting, gluing, smoothing again, gelling, brushing, smoothing. Then at the end, I put my hands into a tiny UV toaster oven that made me laugh. But, it got my nails dry. I still have long pretty nails.

When I was done, we bridesmaids all switched around and it was my turn for the pedicure. This is the best part. I was led into a psuedo-secret resort room full of big comfy chairs and pillows. Amanda prepared a tub of warm water and moisturizer for me to soak my feet in while I sipped more cider. Periodically I would take one foot out and she would softly towel-dry it, put more foot softeners on, and then put it back in the tub. We talked about how a lot of pedicure places get you in and out and don't spend time concentrating on you, making you feel all soft and luxurious. (Like I would know about other places!) I was told that I have "good feet." After lots of varied treatments, my feet were softity soft soft and my nails were painted. Then I had to have them painted again because my "red" didn't match the other girls'. Amanda was eating her lunch, and I apologized for interrupting her, but she said "it's just pizza, it'll still be there" and then I got matching nails.

I loved Spa Day. I liked being pampered. I like the way I was all soft and pretty afterwards. However, I can never go to a regular nail salon now. I want to be served apple cider in wine glasses and trays of snacks. I want a 45-minute pedicure by someone who is totally nice and really good at what she does. So, Versailles Spa spoiled me. Even better, the bride's mom is the one that paid for all of us. Now that's spoiled.

weekends abound

So.
Yesterday I went clothes shopping. For me. That's my favorite kind of clothes shopping!
I had recently come to the realization that very few articles in my closet were as shiny and crisp as they once were. That's what I get for doing the majority of my shopping in thrift stores. Plus, I've also been made aware of the fact that NYC employers like to interview people in suits.

Off to midtown! I did find a very nice skirt-suit and another skirt and a plain black button-up shirt. I thought I might have to go shoe shopping again (darn!) but it turns out that my brown Italian suede shoes will go just fine.* Not too shabby. I still need to get more button-up shirts though.

Then this morning I was finalizing my return trip from CA. We hadn't made hotel reservations yet. Luckily there was a block of rooms reserved for us out of town wedding guests. (Besides the fact I'm only spending 2 nights in the hotel - the several days before, I get to stay at the bride's house. Duh.) Then I was deciding on my return voyage. Original plan was to go visit the fam. Unfortunately, it was over $400 for an hour-long flight. OK, Amtrak. $54 for a 6 hour trip. Yuck, but I can do it. Then to come home. What's this? $700 to fly one way from Eureka to NYC? Nope. Can't swing that. Sorry mom and dad.

So I'll be returning on the same flight as Craig, and even though he booked his flight many moons ago, the seat next to him was still available. This is actually a better plan since I might need to do that "finding a job" thing. PLUS this way I get to go the Jersey Shore with Suzanne and her gang. (I know it's Jersey, but it'll still be fun.) And I can come back easily to wear my new suit if someone decides I should work there. Which someone needs to do.

But for some reason making these plans made for a very stressful morning. I finished some new jewelry (for my new friend / replacement at work) and soon will jaunt off to the book club to discuss this month's book, which I read this week and finished last night.

blah.




* Another thrift store purchase. $4 - and no additional cows had to die so I could have covered feet.