To everyone else, please accept my new look and bulging crotch as an apology. Sorry Rich. Am I ruining your session?
None of this matters of course, because I am still basking in the glow of my own little session. The past two nights have been an ongoing threesome between me, my TV, and my PS3. All of my buttons were pushed (literally) and all parties reached their checkpoints, if you know what I mean. All I know is that I am glad it is finally the weekend, because these late nights aren’t doing anything for my complexion (as you can see above).
On another less weird note, Jillian Levi is at it again. She won a bunch of those awards and mentioned me as a nominee for this thing:
Like with the last award someone tossed down to me, I won’t participate in paying this forward, because… it takes too much time. I am just being honest here. Plus, I wouldn’t want people thinking I am actually a decent blogger who helps encourage others. I am a hitman now god dammit. Read the rest of this entry
I’d hoped to soon post some brag pictures of myself casually looking off into the distance, wind in my hair, and with nothing but clouds in the background. Or, maybe me and Ryan Gosling embraced in a contrived but nonsensical pose as we ascended up and away. Unfortunately, my plans to ride in a hot air balloon for the 4th of July block party on Tuesday night crashed straight into a power line (not literally). Ryan stood me up too. Jerk. The weather decided to act a fool the afternoon festivities were to commence, and upon arriving home from work and seeing no over sized inverted tear drop shaped balloons in sight, I assumed it was a no go. So, I went to a bar to meet some friends as consolation. Well, you know what annoyingly corny people say about assuming…
[Apparently the balloon did manifest itself at some point in the hour that I was away from the party. There were also reports that Ryan actually showed up as well and did a nude swan dive into the pond. Bastards. ]
That is the thing about expectations and planning. Convinced that they are both almost always self-destructive, I think I will quit making them. That whole night was the exact opposite of what I planned in my mind. It was so disappointing, that I actually wrote the most depressing draft for a post while slouched in the corner of my balcony as I watched the last and only fireworks I got to see that night pathetically sort of half explode. Must have been the left over duds arriving late to the party, just like me. It was probably the most unnecessarily dramatic thing I have ever written and certainly not appropriate for the tone of this particular blog. Although I will say, I am good at following Hemingway’s advice to, “Write drunk; edit sober”.
I deleted the pity party post the next morning when I pretty much woke up face down on my keyboard. But, to end on a lighter note, while I did not get to balloon cruise that night, I did make up for it on the actual 4th of July. A few friends, a few beers, and lawn chairs on a roof. Can’t get any
more redneck better than that. I regret nothing.
- Up (25tofly.com)
- A Hot Air Balloon Shaped Like Darth Vader (neatorama.com)
- Hot Air Ballooning – a bird’s eye view (gorentals.co.nz)
Last evening I ventured out to a bar which is actually in a hostel here in Lafayette. I have only been there once, about a hundred years ago. It took some coercing on my friend’s behalf to get me there, as I was being a grandma. It is the only hostel I have ever heard of in Louisiana. The Blue Moon Saloon is like being in your own dream back yard. A grooving band hit the stage shortly after we arrived. I found myself really digging the accordion playing lead singer and swaying bodies all around me.
Sometimes when you live in one place for such a long time, you forget that you haven’t seen everything your city has to offer. If you can get out of your comfort zone, there are still good times to be had.
Happy Mother’s day y’all.
- 8 Things that Separate Great Hostels from Average Hostels (bootsnall.com)
- USA Hostel’s San Francisco, CA, and Hollywood, CA, Locations Named #1 and #2 Hostels Nationwide (prweb.com)
Along with being behind on writing this past week, I also haven’t been able to read my favorite blogs. I finally got to catch up on some this morning in between work. Finding myself a bit troubled by my seemingly idea-less mind lately, I decided to take some inspiration from a Five Forks blog post today. It has been a decent amount of time since I thought about some of my firsts. Lets see…
It was the Summer between 8th and 9th grade. His name was Sal. Nah, Sal was so not his real name, but I think Sal sounds cool, his real name did start with an S, and it reminds me of one of my favorite childhood books, Blueberry’s for Sal. We had been “going out” (aka chatting on AIM) for about two weeks. Jazzy and I had convinced our parents to allow us an unsupervised gallivant to the movie theater. Of course, we were not old enough to drive yet, so Dad had to drop us off. Super cool.
The first hour of the flick consisted of playing musical armrests, and when it was my turn, making sure to position my hand palm side up and open in order to make it easier for him to hold my hand if he would so choose. I couldn’t even begin to tell you which movie it was that we went to see, but I do know it was an action movie … ba dun tsss. Read the rest of this entry
Yet another one of my dearest friends is moving this weekend. My oldest and best guy friend, Z, will be moving to Baton Rouge for work. I tried to hold a grudge against him for leaving me here with no one to split pitchers of beer and shoot pool with. It didn’t last too long, and I doubt he was even aware I was holding one. I am too soft some times. I agreed to let him adopt my old smokey grill. I’ve used it all of two whopping times, and I can’t grill on the balcony of my third story apartment anyhow. So, we met at the bar to have a beer and a smoke for the last time in probably a while. After I handed over the grill, he left. I decided to hang around. Half Pint’s father died unexpectedly yesterday postponing our Tampa trip. Being restless and disappointed I needed a little distraction. Bad news never has good timing.
Almost simultaneously as Z exited the building, two gentlemen claimed the two seats to the left of me. *Cue accent that was not coon-ass* “Ello there”. I greeted them with half a grin and a hello. As conversation ensued, I was patting myself on the back for deciding to stay for a while. My new friends, Steve and Matt, were in town for business both working for the same company as submarine engineers. They coined themselves oil field trash. Hardly. Maybe it was just my swooning over their accents, but these fellas were polite, handsome, and interesting to converse with. Steve was from Scotland, 37 but looked about 31, and was kind enough to keep stocking me up on smokes all night like they were bar snacks. Matt was from Australia, 31 but looked 37, and had me imagining a romance like out of Findingravity’s series of blog posts entitled Not Another Love Story!.
Naturally I was like a fervent puppy chatting them both up about all the places they have traveled. Where they have been, what they saw, how they got there, and a million other questions. Read the rest of this entry