Bring Your Own Blanket

Austin has a plethora of free things to do around town, especially in the summer, most of which I have no idea even exist; I just kind of do what my friends tell me to do.

So when AP asks me to go to Blues on the Green, I'm like, "Yeah, but how do we smuggle in the booze?" But you don't HAVE to smuggle in beer, you just walk in with your blanket and your beer and set up camp with your friends on the beautiful green grass and watch free blues. (Hence, Blues on the Green.)

Enter shit ton of hippies, dogs, blankets, frisbees, drugs and a load of alcohol. They should change the name to Blues on the Drunk. And since it's summer in Austin and it's about 117 degrees Fahrenheit at the park, all you really want to do is lie down on your blanket, pull your shirt up and take a nice little nap. That's about the time your friends take your camera out of your purse and start taking erotic/embarrassing photos of you.

Friends on the Green.

Nap on the Green.

Erotica on the Green.

Mikey.

Trying to regain any dignity before Leaving the Green.

How a Mechanical Bull Can Ruin Your Jealous Relationship

One of my favorite radio stations in town sponsored a free screening of Urban Cowboy at the Alamo Drafthouse last night... so three of my favorite things all rolled into one! They even had free Lone Star and koozies and stuff, so I made a pretty good haul. And the theater didn't fill up but they had bought enough beer for the whole place, so don't worry, I drank what was left over. It's pretty embarrassing having to go to the bathroom three times during a two hour movie.

Then there was this gorgeous man who was also alone who sat directly behind me and I didn't have enough gumption to sit beside him. What a pansy! But I know when I go to the theater alone, it's so I can be alone... so, I didn't want to interrupt his evening by himself. Plus, I shed a tear or two (naturally) and no woman wants a cute boy to see her cry.

Urban Cowboy is simply amazing. Despite the terrible attempt at Texas draws and His and Her floral button downs, it's one of my favorite movies. John Travolta is an old fave of mine; he is the BEST bad guy, and no matter how humiliating it is to hear him hit high notes with Olivia Newton John, I could watch Grease all day long. And of course, Pulp Fiction is right behind Lonesome Dove for me. I think I probably quote PF once a day either to someone who will know what I'm talking about or to myself.

There's so much to say about this movie, too. I miss English classes and gabbing about this stuff with people who care so I have to bore the internet world with my crap about antagonists and protagonists, etc, etc. What's so funny is that neither of the men in the story are all that great; both Bud and Wes knock around Sissy a little bit. And while we all want to hate Pam for being a selfish whore, she's wonderful! Not only is she gorgeous, she has amazing style and in the end, does Bud right by letting him go. What a knockout.

I still feel like she's got nothing on Sissy....

Debra Winger doesn't wear a stitch of makeup in this film and still manages to look beautiful.

I think the reason I love this movie so much is because I totally relate to both Bud and Sissy. Stubborn, hard headed, prideful people who sabotage their own relationships? This is not an unfamiliar story. Sissy is a willful woman who wants to prove her strength and Bud is intimidated to the point of jealousy. Enter mechanical bull...ends badly.

People, don't let a metal bucking machine ruin your lives.

On Anger

I'm not sure if it's because I'm a woman or my mother's daughter, but I have a tendency of bottling up my emotions and keeping them at bay until the most ridiculous occurrence sets them off. I can deal with shit from people all week long (bartender extraordinaire) then come home and my roommate's craft project for her villain costume party will be lying around, right next to a bottle of syrup and Barefoot Contessa homemade cookies, and roommate will be nowhere in sight. Then I flip out. Or I'm putting on my eyeliner and the end breaks off, I flip out. Or a hanger gets stuck on another hanger. Then I really flip out.

What is wrong with me? one might ask. Who knows. I dare say I should work on it. But instead, I've found a seemingly healthy way to deal with my pent up rage. I put on a little classical music on my record player, blast it as loud as the sad little speaker system can allow, and clean the shit out of my house.

Yesterday, I found something on Facebook that made me want to cry and scream, but I couldn't (what is that, when you can't cry?) and instead of going to work angry and destructive, I evoked this little method and soon enough, after a bit of shoving clothes into my drawers, the fit was over and all's well that ends well.

On a lighter, less angry note, I joined match.com.

Whaaaaaatttttttt?????

I know. My roommates made me. Let's just say it's going to be a little experiment. And plus, being a pretty girl and all, I just kind of have to sit back and see what happens. Or who presents themselves. It's like online shopping. And instead of going to a bar where T.I. is bumping and you might end up talking to some joker wearing an Affliction shirt, (or if you're me, get into a fight) you don't have to waste your time with said joker for twenty minutes, only to find out that he adores Lady Gaga and has three chihuahuas.

So all you ladies who are curious, I'll let you know how the experiment is panning out. So far, only about a dozen creepers have "winked" at me, but three Baldwins have emailed me. However, that's out of the nine, most of which were fairly redneck.

Who would have thought that I would attract a redneck?

...Googled "redneck" to add to this post, here are just a few findings. Good stuff, these rednecks.

Redneck timeout.

Rednect protest.

Wedding announcement. Didn't use match.com

Shell Station Slash Pet Groomers

Been running on empty for about eight days now so I decided it might be time for a "fill 'er up." So I stop at the Shell station on the way home from work.

My family and I have an affinity for nice gas stations. I guess because Hometown is a big truck-stop town and the gas stations are mostly huge and luxurious. And there aren't any "NO LOITERING" signs around. Feel free to loiter your ass off. Alyssa and Kerley will spend twenty to thirty minutes at a nice gas station. Gas, Copenhagen, Slim Jims, lottery ticket, and playing grab-ass at the pump; I've never seen them get along so well as when they are at the station.

Der Kleine familie Kerley...

So needless to say, based on my rearing, I am accustomed to spacious stations; and upon moving to Austin and discovering that most gas stations are small pieces of shit, I try not to spend too much time in any of them.

And here's why: Shell Station #4115 (or whatever) on North Lamar is also moonlighting as a dog washing and grooming store. Or so it would seem, for when I stroll up to the counter to pay for my $26 in gas, the Asian store owners are cleaning a shih tzu in the sink and there's Kibbles and Bits snacks on the counter by the register. But based on the large amount of watermelon rinds on the barstool and laundry scattered around, one might think that Mom and Pop Shell are taking up permanent residence at the gas station.