good blogs are hard to find

i have never claimed to be good at this, but i do claim to be hysterical. so when my mom sent me this blog by this other hilarious woman in internet land, i was thrilled. and encouraged. if this crazy lady can get so many followers and make money from ads, why can't i? one of these days, not any time soon? and when i start to figure out how to draw the way she does on whatever program it is she uses?

i laughed so hard at this blog that i started crying and keep in mind, i'm still having to go to coffee shops to catch up on computer time because the internet people are holding mine hostage at the house. so here i am, drinking coffee and eating a muffin, crying at my computer, trying to stifle the strange noises of laughter and hysterics of my face with my hand over my mouth; people are probably thinking my boyfriend just broke up with me over facebook chat.

good blogs are hard to find. like i said, i don't claim to have an interesting blog, its actually based on the nothingness that is my life.

guy: so what's your blog about?

me: um, nothing. me? being funny. i'm funny.

guy: yeah, i'll get right on that.

but there are some blogs out there that are actually about something that i don't give a crap about. your house, your kids, your yarn, your book clubs. these are things of very little interest to me. but keep it up. someone out there cares about your cat.

and after you've caught up with such and such's kid's third grade play over ben franklin, read this blog and laugh your ass off. is this legal?

www.hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com

the house is snoring really loudly

i live in a beautiful home with hard wood floors, a big back yard, faux fire place, (?) and two wonderful women. i have had a lot of roommates in my time (shout out to sayda beth and ashley) and i have to say that this combination of females is by far the best. while there are things that annoy the CRAP out of me about my roomies, (sophia runs from one place to the other and shruti sighs really loudly from the comfort of her room?) there are times when i feel i don't know what any of us would do without the other.

sophia. i have known sophia for going on three summers now. we know each other pretty well and i think she gets me. she knows how i love a tidy space and she never leaves her shit out. she is a woman of so many angles. an artist (to say the least- most of the decor in our home is painted by her) a photographer with an eye for all things beautiful, a singer with a voice that fills our house, and an actress, which comes in handy on nights out when its imperative to stage a scene worthy of an oscar. while i don't understand her all the time (capricorn, she's weird, but has incredible insight) i know that she cares for me and loves me just the way i am! and has supported me through terrible boyfriends, jobs, and my decisions through and after college. she is truly a wonderful friend and roommate.

shruti just moved in with us this past august and while she is younger than sophia and me, she fits in perfectly with us. while sophia and i are probably reading hemmingway or oates, shruti is most definitely reading a comparison of the uses of macs and pcs and how that equates to cultures within our society today. what? she might be the smartest person i have ever hung out with. but don't think she walks around citing einstein or anything, this girl knows how to have a good time. she just moved from michigan to texas (climate upgrade) and is all on her own and doing a fabulous job of it. not only is she a genius, she is the sexiest woman alive. no kidding. hands down, best catch. but she's taken. by the sexiest man alive. no kidding.

so, needless to say, life and times at the house are fun filled for sure. i have taken the role of man of the house, killing roaches and spiders and pulling the hair out of the drain when needed. and its great when something big happens because everyone reacts differently. just the other day, i heard a commotion in the hallway. sophia yelling at shruti, asking her if she was in her shower. after shruti's response, no, she is in fact not using sophia's shower, all three of us are confused: who the hell is in the shower? we investigate. only to find water spewing from somewhere within sophia's bathroom and out into the hallway. hot water. coming out at a rapid rate. steam and water everywhere. sophia, shrieking loudly and shrilling, what's going on?! me: sophia, call dan NOW. and i leave to find the main valve to turn off the water. shruti, quietly taking everything in, hones in on the actual leak and before i could even begin to shut down the water to the house, shruti turns off the water behind the sink, (where the actual problem was) all the while sophia dancing around, trying to put on pants because the landlord might be coming over. when i return, i find both laughing and putting down towels, shruti clad in golashes and sophia, still pantless.

i came home the other night, two am, dog tired and ready to pass out, when i heard a loud snoring noise outside my window. in our neighborhood, the houses are packed in pretty tight so when someone walks through his backyard, it literally sounds like he is in my house. so, i disregard the noise as a neighbor with his windows open. but the snoring noise is awfully close so i have to check it out, or else its going to bug me all night. then i hear sophia rustling in her room and i know then that she must be up too, scared to death of whatever the hell that noise is. i knock at her door to find her terrified: brynnan, i think there is a drunk homeless man passed out oh my back porch.

good lord, i hadn't thought of that. this is austin. crazy shit is happening here all the time. but not in our pleasant little 'hood! i tell her don't be so paranoid, but let's find out. we turn out all the lights and because i can't find my flashlight, i get out my cellphone and tear open her back door. if it is a homeless joe, i want to scare the crap out of him. no sleeping beauty on the porch, but the snoring pursues. i walk into the back yard, the noise getting louder all the time. i look up in the trees to see the tiniest outline of an owl, snoring his ass off. there is a lot of stuff i have never seen, but this is one of the best. a snoring owl. a loud snoring owl.

sophia: i thought owls were nocturnal.

yes, yes. i do believe they are. when i woke up the next morning, he was still hard at it.

so, while we are all very different, we seem to mesh pretty well. i'm not so much with the advice but i'll listen to them when they have a bad week, and they have their own ways of cheering me up, too.

sophia, in complete and utter dismay over men: i just don't get them. why would someone behave that way?

shruti: it sounds like his serotonin and dopamine levels are down. that happens to men sometimes, soph.

me: sounds to me like he's an asshole.

trials and tribulations of tending bar

bartending has become one of my favorite things to do. i wouldn't even mind doing it for fun. but it is my job and it does pay the bills. there are days when its the most fun being behind the bar: your friends and regulars come in, everyone tips really well, and you might even get a second to sit down and do a few crosswords with a new customer you have taken a liking to.

but then there are days that are not so great. days when you come in to find a packed bar and everyone needing something (including water), or a bar full of men who are oogling you and you literally have no place to hide, and you just plain ole are not in the mood to make friends with anyone.

and then there's days like today. eeyore's birthday. eeyore's (in case you forgot, the depressed donkey from winnie the pooh) festival is created in honor of the animal and is actually a pretty cool ordeal, lots of non profit hooplah and beer and food and music and stuff. also a lot of naked people and a whole lot of drugs. this little ditty takes place about one block from my bar. and the mass exodus of drunken and high-out-of-their-minds hippies, of course, make their way into my humble place of work. utter chaos ensues. not only was i keeping the bar, but i was waiting tables too for this glorious occasion. everyone (and their dogs) wants water, and people are literally passing out at my tables. i had to lightly nudge a man to wake him up to pay his tab.

me: um, sir? (nudging) i'm going to drop off the bill now... um, did you need anything else?

someone else tipped my fellow server in marijuana.

guy who gave autumn pot: yeah, so, we're kind of low on cash, but we left you something else that we think is way better, and if you don't want it, well, then, i guess you could sell it.

and of course, the eeyore experience would not be complete unless someone shat himself. (the gas station cashier across the street informed me that last year, his car was shit on.)

what is wrong with these people!? at least when i get intoxicated, i have the foresight to stop while i'm ahead. and not shit myself. go home and lie down! take a time out. geez.

i hope that everyone had a good time at the park, i would have loved to have gone and seen all the costumes and freaky stuff that went on. maybe next year...

because there wasn't a picture of eeyore crapping himself on google images...

misplaced north austin girl

at a coffee shop on the south side of austin, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. if you know much of anything on austin, its pretty trendy down here. hipsters, scenesters...people a lot cooler, or at least think they're a lot cooler, than me. i'm drinking a black coffee while they're drinking chai and bubble tea. the music is so loud in here that i cannot even form sentences within my own head. and not even good loud-as-hell-music. some guy whining about driving all day.

the reason i am here is because my brakes starting grinding yesterday (gasp, horror, general appall). i am not very good at taking care of my car. she is old and crappy, held together merely with bird shit and duct tape. its hard for me to put money toward her when i know that at almost any moment, the floorboard is going to give out and i'm going to be fred flinstoning my way home.

so hold your lecture, its being taken care of. i have a good friend at the bar who is taking care of it for me! cheap parts on his "knows everyone in the city" discount and labor for a bar tab. he only goes by "texas tim" and has lived for, by my calculations, about 600 years. he has literally done everything there is to do in the world, including lived in the most beautiful cities, dated and shacked up with the most beautiful women in the world, and is a ninja. is all this for real? there is really no way of knowing. i believe about what half he says; he is a handsome looking older man so he could snag a chick or two, and he can do the crossword quicker than i can get 15 across. but did he really kill half of the mexican mafia in santa fe? who knows, folks. anything is possible. he makes the dos equis guy look like a pimple faced middle schooler.

so while ole texas tim is working on the old stang, i'm posted up at his local coffee shop doing a little writing and a little feeling out of place. and listening to the same ten songs over and over on my itunes. oh great, during a song break, just caught an ear full of a nearby conversation on richard nixon. this can't go anywhere good.

freaking austin. i love it.

here are just a few of tim's fine-doings for santa fe. or not.

adventures in drinking

hungover has taken on a whole new meaning. i didn't know it was physically possible to feel this bad about oneself. physically and mentally. on days like this, its imperative to ask oneself: oh my goodness, what did i do last night? why do i feel this way? and who do i need to call and apologize to? it doesn't help the recollecting when you reach in your purse and find a giant stack of black bev naps and a small bottle of what looks like bok choy sauce. so i guess last night i thought it would be hilarious to steal some condiments and dinnerware? how thoughtless of me.

it is nice to know, however, that when you are in this condition, that there is someone out there who cares. cares enough to text the bartenders to take my car keys away from me until he can get off work to get me. what a guy. and how did he know the goings on at the mean-eyed cat bar? no one knows. no one, but that what-a-guy.

so thanks, guy.

i'd also like to thank the many bartenders yesterday who contributed to my being over-served. thanks, tandi, for the coke back with that jammy shot. and to clinton, for that extra splash of lemon in my firefly. and of course, mikey and brooke... who knew so much sake could cost so little? and drinking at the bar solo gets lonely, so thanks to the many friends who unexpectedly popped in to see me.

now, even though its 7:27 in the pm, i am off to continue to nurse my horrific hangover.

thanks to this blogger, or lover of all asian sauces, you can see here my mystery morning sauce. fourth from the left.

friday night blues

home alone on a friday night. yes, i have friends, but they do things i hate, like go downtown. so that's out. and i don't really have the blues, i just wanted to work in john conally somehow. so that worked out.

so, i have a macbook air. i'm still not sure why. but it was a graduation gift from my mother dear and while i am terribly appreciative, i have issues with such a lowly person as myself using such an expensive and beautiful piece of equipment. i also have an adorable burnt orange ipod nano that i got for christmas from maude, too. it was still in its neat little package up until tonight. what am i going to do with an ipod? i ask myself. listen to it? i guess.

now on my macbook, i have this neat little button down here with a music note on it. that, my friends, is itunes. yeah, i've got it. and just what to do with it i did not know until reagan kind of walked me through it. for about a year i've had this computer and this neat little program and up until tonight i had about three songs on my playlist. what? you wonder. well...

claire de lune - claude debussey. alyssa has it on vinyl. a beautiful classic.

let it loose - the rolling stones. duh.

ce jeu (the twelves remix) - yelle. this song was on the alamo drafthouse montage for the month of december and i searched high and low for the name of it. what a great stinking song. i'll post it so take off some clothes and dance around the house. because that's what i do.

anyway, tonight, me being bored as shit and all, decide to purchase a few more songs for my itunes library and, oh geez, i don't know, maybe put them on my ipod? seems like the right thing to do.

during the industrial revolution in england, workers who didn't want to lose their much needed jobs in factories would secretly destroy machines at night or during raids. these badasses became known as luddites. now, the term is used rather loosely to refer to someone who despises or rejects technology. i, since learning this term in an english literature class, consider myself somewhat of a luddite. iphones scare the crap out of me, and frankly, i don't want to be like everyone else; constantly fingering a telephone or with it stuck to the side of my head. i think phones in public are rude and unnecessary. even for navigational purposes. sure, its handy, but if my dad didn't need one growing up, why should i? can't i stop and ask for directions? and since i probably won't, either i'll figure it out or just not show up to the place. sorry, didn't have my iphone.

back to the merging of all my unnecessary technologies... it was grand. the ipod actually synced up to my mac and charged itself (wow) and uploaded all my songs! but not before i got to name her! (loretta, as in "get back, loretta!"). when i texted alyss to ask her for some suggestions, she said "how about downfall." she knows me so well. and in the midst of all this up/downloading, charging, and blogging, i seemed to have overloaded my poor, tiny computer and safari shut down, right in the middle of everything. i panic. and search my brain for the words that have disappeared into internet-land; but hark! my blog saved it all automatically. yowza, folks. maybe i'm coming around.

stupid luddites.

dance your pants off.

on wetting oneself

i'm weird, its true. ask the sisters. so it only seems reasonable that strange and ridiculous things would follow my being. and i don't know if its just me that these things happen to, or if i get such a kick out of them that i make it into something hilarious.

went to the greenbelt for the first time yesterday. fun was had by all. but, it being march and all, the water is still a tad chilly for my taste. so i keep to the bank and have a grand old time soaking up the sun and drinking some lone star, making fun of passers-by. when the time comes to pee, i opt to crawl into the woods that is the greenbelt and find a nice tree to relieve myself, instead of sitting in the freezing cold waters. duh. and me, being a well-raised pottsvillian, knows how to do this properly. i had some issues with it at first (age 5, approximately) but these things have ironed themselves out over the course of many backroading adventures and trips to the leon. somehow, though, i manage to soak my bathing suit with my own urine, and then transfer said substance onto my shorts. super cool move, right. i make the best of the situation by shrugging this little incident off and hiking back up the hill to where car is parked. things are going well up until someone (someone, who despite my efforts to deter vision of my wet bottom, has spotted the discrepancy) asks casually, "is that pee?" keep in mind no one has been in the water past their knees, so there is no pawning this off on the river. so, my driver insisted i sit on a towel on the way back into town. i would have been embarrassed, except for some reason; peeing on myself in the wilderness does not seem nearly as bad as anywhere else.

more stories to follow, i am certain because hilarious and unfortunate things are usually happening to me.