Saturday, February 25, 2012
What Do We Do Now?
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
I got a job
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Laissez les bons temps rouler!
It's Mardi Gras! (again, for the non-French, Fat Tuesday)
Guess who has the largest Mardi Gras celebration after New Orleans? That would be St. Louis. And after Saturday's parade/debauchery/drunkenness/fabulous clothing/beads/extravaganza, I can tell you - it's the truth.
Alas I have no pictures, but let me paint it for you: my oldest cousin on my Dad's side (J, I'll call her) has been going to Mardi Gras since she was in high school. Currently, she is 32. So that's 16 years of honed expertise on how to do Mardi Gras well. Naturally, I called her to get the lowdown, having been at college and unable to attend in previous years.
After preparing as per all of her suggestions (dress warm!, bring libations or pay for them here, the parade starts at 11, bring a purse for all stuff and by stuff I mean extra liquor or cigarettes, seriously wear long underwear we're gonna be outside all day, and MOST IMPORTANTLY if you're not drinking beer, bring a cup), I rock up to her house around noon. My uncle drives us, (J, J's husband, E, and his cousin, D, and myself) because god knows none of us are driving home.
We drive towards downtown and get out of the car while still on the exit ramp. It's time to get our drink on. E and some of his other family are flipping a house right where all the action is, so that's where we set up all our stuff (the booze and food). There's a Johnnie on the Spot, since the house is basically an empty shell waiting to get refurbished. The port-a-potty is important. You cannot quite fathom how important until you are standing in line behind 20 (drunk) people waiting for one of the john's on the street, and your (also drunk) bladder is bursting. I paid $10 for the private port-a-potty in the fenced in backyard of the house, and that was the best, albeit the only, money I spent all day. (Besides the .83 cent gas station cup I drank out of all day.)
If this is only the second largest Mardi Gras, I cannot imagine New Orleans. It was packed. It was like being in a club, but you're outside standing on a street corner with 300 other people and a heavy base is pounding a familiar song you are all singing as you're slithering through the crowd following the coat in front of you as you're trying not to lose the one who's following you, all the while scoping out the best, coolest beads and whether or not that guy is drunk enough to give you his if you just ask and scoping out the guys too because the ones that have propositioned you are just not up to your Mardi-Gras-make-out standards, or at least not yet, but maybe after you finish the drink you're holding if he hasn't disappeared to chase another tail by then.
It was like getting up to pre-game for a football game, except not quite as early and there is no stupid game to feign interest in, you're there to see the parade. Not the actual parade, because that ended an hour ago, but the people parade: the green, purple and gold costumes; the beads that range from just colors to crawfish to duckies to boobs to plastic shot glasses to penis whistles to Jagermeister bottles; the super drunk and stumbly people; the chicks that will show their tits for beads, because they are drunk if not already stumbling; the old, wrinkly people who are partying just as hard as you; the little brown dog, who is also decorated in his finest beads...
Needless to say, by 8:30 pm, when we were picked up by my uncle at the same exit ramp we were dropped off at, we were all blitzed out of our minds. I had copious amount of water and the best tasting Imo's pizza (it's a STL pizza place, kinda legendary) and passed out in my cousin's basement (on a bed, I wasn't that blitzed.) And, thanks to the magical properties of Imo's pizza, I wasn't too bad in the morning. E, my cousin's husband, passed out before the pizza arrived, and was hurting the next day. (I did have a little headache but nothing too awful after 8 hours of partying. The trick is to start off slow- then you can keep partying till it's dark out and not have Roxie's words to Mason running through your head (why do you do this to yourself?) the next morning).
Anyway, my purpose in telling you all this, was not to make you unbelievable jealous or ashamed that you have such a lush for a friend, but to let you know that the Saturday before Mardi Gras next year, you should join me. Excited?
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Am I a Bad Person?
Hold on a second, that's four songs that I have listened to en masse from an artist that I like nothing about. I do basically the same things with Britney songs, but I don't feel bad about that because it's Britney. Even though I don't really respect or love her, I feel a strange kind of fondness because she's the sex symbol that's setting unnaturally high standards for women that I grew up with. Also, she had a rou
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Masquerading as a Cinephile
(Also, before I get started, don't forget this month's theme: NOT love. I have my idea, do you have yours yet?!)
In the extremely random order that I watched them:
Morning Glory
Why I watched it: Rachel McAdams is adorable and I'm still in love with Harrison Ford.
This movie is pretty cute. And Rachel's tenacity to get a job really hit home for me. It's a decent feel-good movie, and successfully put me in a good mood. Though that might have been the moscato. Fun fact: Patrick Wilson (Nite Owl/ Raoul) makes a sexy appearance. The movie is about how neurotic and eager Rachel turns around a tanking morning news show. But mostly it's about how wry and hilarious Harrison Ford is. For that reason alone, if you are a big fan of him, I would recommend watching it.
Midnight in Paris
Why I watched it: Again, Rachel McAdams.
Meh. It was an okay movie. My favorite part was when Tom Hiddleston (Loki!) makes an appearance as F. Scott Fitzgerald, also Cathy Bates as Gertrude Stein, Adrien Brody as Salvador Dali, and the fact we see Ernest Hemingway too. I found out I don't really care for Owen Wilson, and when Rachel McAdams plays the unlikeable bitch of a fiancee, I lose interest pretty quickly. It's about Owen traveling to 1920s Paris magically at midnight. I would have rather just seen all the roaring 20s fun without Owen there. I would pass it.
50/50
Why I watched it: I love Joseph Gordon-Levitt. And my brother said this was a good movie.
I laughed, I cried, I swooned, this was a good movie. Joseph gets cancer (no!) and has a 50% of living. Seth Rogan, his womanizing friend, is there to make jokes and keep his morale up. Anna Kedrick (who is just super cute) is his therapist, and she's only had 2 patients before him. Definitely worth seeing, though I can guarantee you'll cry.
In Time
Why I saw it: Sci-fi premise of time actually being currency, also everyone is 25, also Justin Timberlake.
I missed this movie when it came out in theaters, but I'm so glad I saw it. You kind of have to go with the 'time is currency' thing because there are no explanations, but I love a dystopic-future sci-fi flick and this is exactly what it was. Cillian Murphy makes a great appearance as a timekeeper (aka cop). And who doesn't want to see Vincent Kartheiser (Pete Cambell from Mad Men) as the rich bad guy? Fun action and so much running out of time.
Drive
Why I watched it: Ryan Gosling. And my brother said it was good.
Ryan Gosling is so pretty. But that wasn't quite enough to keep me engaged in this movie. It's got action and mob violence, but I just couldn't get into it. Maybe it was all the "let's watch the character stare at stuff as we listen to music". I don't know. I thought this would be right up my alley, but it failed to impress. Gosling is still very pretty.
Crazy, Stupid, Love
Why I watched it: Again, Ryan Gosling. And ever since Zombieland, I just love Emma Stone. And a lady I work out with said she really liked it.
I don't usually like romantic comedies, because they are stupid. And hey, this one says it right upfront in the title. It was interesting because it wasn't just about Ryan and Emma getting together. It's mostly about Steve Carrell's marriage disintegrating. Although, let's be honest my favorite part of the entire movie was Emma and Ryan. But because that wasn't the focus, that storyline wasn't made nauseating. Fun fact: Annaleigh, one of the plethora of America's Next Top Model contestants, is in it and not too bad. Also, Kevin Bacon. So I'd recommend it if you're in a sappy romantic mood, but don't want to watch Love Actually again.
Have you seen any of these? Do you want to now?
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Eat It
Note: This poem was written sort of in response to some stuff that's been happening at work (not my internship, the other work). I wrote it yesterday and edited once so it's a little loopy and incomplete. Anyway, enjoy. I felt much better after I wrote it. As always, fuck blogger formatting. It just doesn't want to recognize that indentations are a thing.)
Assertive
I lack confidence, or so I’ve been told
but consider this.
I have collaborative, poetic absolute truth coursing in and out of my skin and
there is a commiseration of complex algorithms for the perfect being
sloshing around in my skull and dripping from my nose.
A lattice of artificially constructed spirituality is shattered when I breathe
the unobtrusive and yet earth pummeling catharsis that comes
from saying the word “fuck” on repeat until your problems are too scared to emerge.
Someone hung a length of rusty wire in my brain when I was young
and I spun it into gold! and then-
(seeing how useless gold was)
turned that into a belt of bullet casings to attack to dynastic bullies who
claim to come from God but only come
from the Wall-Mart Super Savers Super Manager Seminars!
(inspiration kitten poster-based law is no substitute for mutual respect)
Elaborate enumerations of clandestine sectarian movements find within me
a flag, a hope, a new day and an earpiece!
Vote for Morgana! Queen of the night!
Cast ballots for the vaginal goddess of fertility, Ceres!
Collect signatures to recall the overtly destructive penile pretender
(he knows who he is, but we’ll call him Condescension
for no one can rise to meet his gaze)
Confidence is irrelevant when you set the bakery of clichés on fire!
Self-worth seems silly connected to the criss-crossing wires of harm and help
that are needed to be free from the tyranny of ownness!
In all of this have you ever once considered
that just perhaps
you do not know me at all?