Fueled Solely by an Americano and a Rice Crispy Treat

My trip to Charlotte, if nothing else, has reunited me with Caribou Coffee.

This week's Comedy Goldmine lives up to its name entirely. I'm sure you were wondering.

I still haven't made any solid plans to return to Tennessee, though Thursday looks promising. I might go hop on some roller coasters tomorrow, and as much as I love cheap burgers and fort-dwellers, that seems fun too.

I guess I hadn't seen Johnny Depp investigate enough grisly murders in period clothing, or had enough of Ian McDiarmid for that matter, because I watched From Hell and Sleepy Hollow back-to-back last night. I'd seen neither previously, and enjoyed both quite a bit. I may try to see Unleashed tonight. I love to hate Bob Hoskins.

Why are you still reading this? When I get a life, you'll be the first to know. Well, hopefully I'd be the first to know, but you're up there.


Listening to: Bach's Unaccompanied Cello Suite V in C minor played on the double bass by Edgar Meyer (which I strongly recommend).

Reading: Glue by Irvine Welsh, and The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists by Gideon Defoe

Fly Casual

Done with the beach. Thanks to SPF 50, you'll never know I was there. Unless you're in a position to be looking at the underside of my ass.
I was sad to leave just as the bikers were getting riled up. While waiting for an elevator a few nights ago, a couple of guys asked us (me and the sisters, one being THIRTEEN) if we get high, to which my step-sister replied, yes, we get high on Jesus. I am not lying. Later the same night, as I kept watch on the balcony and made every effort to clear my head (ha) I was treated to the all to familiar sounds and smells of a couple of phillies blunts being enjoyed on the balcony next to me. Damn you, Nero, for making me so accustomed.

Vacation: Bonus Round.
Chad called while I was on the beach to berate me for being anywhere near the Carolinas and not calling him, then he suggested we meet him on the way back so I could make my escape. Now I'm in Charlotte, return date unknown. We watched Return of the Jedi last night, and I discovered, to my dismay, that this jerk has decided to watch all six films in a row tomorrow. Oh, that I could be there for that. Since Chad and I started with number six, I'm seriously considering the idea of watching them all in backwards order, in true prequel fashion, but that would mean ending with Phantom Menace, which would really put a damper on the whole affair. No sense in trying to compete, I suppose. I crave not these things.

I'd love to post more boring details about my trip, and the state of my head these days, but you can thank my battery I won't.

Yay, Yay, Yay!

Listening to: Some vaguely uninteresting coffeehouse jazz-type substance

I'll Have the Mushroom Daiquiri

Ship's Log- Day Two

Interesting turn of events today. Today marked the beginning of Black Biker Week here at the ol' North Myrtle. My mother overlooked that tiny detail in planning this trip. I'm loving it, of course, but I think everyone else is a bit freaked out. Which is pure entertainment.
I found out my step-sister signed some sort of covenant at her seminary that dictates she can't drink, so I guess Mr. Tequila is out. I am, however, cheered that mere discussion of my lovelife at dinner drove my mother to steal long gulps of my margarita, and I count that as a mild success.
I spent the whole day sleeping and reading on the beach, posting is by far the most constructive thing I've done today. Shocking that doing so little could wear me out so much.

Listening to: The Atlantic

Balcony

Balcony
Originally uploaded by glasshole.

Ship's Log--
Day one of our journey. For those of you just joining us, we're on vacation, just us girls.
The Crew:
-My mother, the ordained minister
-My step-sister, the future ordained minister who, no kidding, snorts when she laughs
-My sister, the thirteen year-old evangelist who is beginning to show the most fledgling inklings of rebellion in her political views
-My Self, I'm (the) black (sheep) and I'm proud

Since a large portion of my vocabulary is based upon the words "Fuck" and "Damn", the remainder composed mainly of creative ways of taking the lord's name in vain, you can imagine how I struggled in the face of a 9-hour car trip, but so far so good.
My guess is they'll allow me a few days of fun before they lock me in the room to begin the intervention/exorcism.
I know I'm harping on the subject, but generally when I associate with my family, my heathen bretheren are along to make me feel a little less, I don't know, evil?
Puts me in a bit of a mood.
On the upside, the hotel isn't a complete rat-hole. The name has the word "resort" in the title, which is a bit of an overstatement if you ask me, but then I've only been here a few hours.
I have but two goals for the next few days:
1. Get my mother to drink a margarita.
2. Get my step-sister to drink four and hit the dance club with me, where I will proceed to introduce her to Mr. Tequila shot. She's 29, it's time.

Watching: The Daily Show! On Cable! This vacation thing ain't so bad after all!

Awaiting the Race

Awaiting the Race
Originally uploaded by glasshole.

Keeping Pace

Keeping Pace
Originally uploaded by glasshole.

Sailing, Sailing

Sailing, Sailing
Originally uploaded by glasshole.

Randy and me in the UYB (Ugly Yellow Boat).

Ain't No Jibe

And so, on three hours sleep, and a lingering muppet buzz, our heroine set sail.

Crewed for Randy on day one of the 39th Annual Dutch Treat Regatta at the Concord Yacht Club. Three of Four scheduled races run, the final being called off for lack of any sort of wind. The third being excruciatingly slow for the very same reason. First race of the day was by far the most exciting, as strong wind, nervousness at not having set foot in a sailboat in years, and a donut-only breakfast worked a marvelous synergistic effect on my seafaring constitution. It was our best finish of the day (7th). I was sorely disappointed when the gale forces died down after a nice, satisfying lunch, because I was ready to kick some Windmill ass at that point. Instead I got to work on my tan, a few sea shantys, and some friendly inter-boat trash talk.

Lack of wind aside, it was fantastic weather, and I was thrilled to be on the water for it. My body currently feels as though I took a few spins in a clothes dryer, and I'm sure tomorrow it will look it too. Randy is a great Skipper and I know he and Anna will beat the deck shoes off everyone tomorrow. The race photographer is supposed to burn a cd with pictures from both days of races, and I will post the ones in which I look A)as though I am doing something important or B)just plain cute, forthwith.

The Good is Oft Interred....

"First it is stimulating and fun and it goes on that way for a while. All things truly wicked start from an innocence. So you live day by day and enjoy what you have and do not worry. You lie and hate it and it destroys you and every day is more dangerous, but you live day to day as in a war."
-E.H.

Case in Point

"Hey, wouldn't it be funny if they threw an election and one party won because of its firm commitment to moral values, a faith-based worldview and a stand against such repugnant deviancy as gay marriage? And wouldn't it be even more hysterical if some of that party's loudest advocates of moral values had in fact been boinking mules and watermelons, and treating their wives like prostitutes?"

-- Rebecca Traister

P.S.- No, I don't actually anticipate you'll read all three articles. They're long. But amusing and/or sickening.

So Love Me, Love Me, Love Me.....

....I'm a liberal.

Listening to: The delightful sound of a lawnmower on a Sunday afternoon/The Fort

In-Form

One would think, being unemployed and entirely useless as of late, I'd have carved out a little time to post. Here's a perfunctory go at it.

I locked myself out of my car twice this week. Here's a tip, single keys don't like to hang around in the pockets of running shorts for very long. Especially when those shorts are running. Duh.

Life has become less hectic in the past two weeks, but no less complicated. I don't know what I was expecting.

One of my favorite people took me to one of their favorite places last night, and I appreciated that. In fact, there wasn't much about last night I didn't appreciate. Except, perhaps, the bridal Mary Kay party. I might have done without that. Once again, I was reminded why most of my friends are male.

Listening to: Viva Voce- Business Casual (in my head)

Almost Done: A Moveable Feast

On the Agenda: La Dolce Vita

Depths of Nonchalance

Fair warning, we've got a front of angsty bullshit moving through the area. This ain't no quarter-life crisis. No, we're kicking it retro, junior high style. Full-on eighth grade action, with just a pinch of third and dash of tenth. Except without curfew.

Summer is on, and I'm already floating face down on a flimsy pool float, drifting in and out of consciousness, cool water on my front, searing sun on my back. I'm vacillating between rampant imbecility and abject speechlessness in specific company. The sparkling wit is dried up, replaced with plebeian hackery, at best. Creativity is just a word I knew once. Armed with next to nothing in the way of the knowledge I'd like to have before proceeding, I'm putting increasing amounts of stock in the opinions of charlatans. They're at least keeping up appearances. Also, this damn cough won't go away.

But at least Family Guy is on. And I planted some flowers. And, if nothing else, picniking, graduates, Sin City, Sushi, Cakre, and Kung Fu Hustle, in that order, made me happy to be alive. I've gone a little into girly overdrive, but I'll be back soon enough. There's something to be said for sleeping in a bed tonight, and I may actually be beat enough to fall asleep at some point. I might be hating on myself pretty strongly at the moment, but I still love everyone else. So it ain't all bad.

What I meant to say was: Word, dawg. I'm up out this piece. Holla.

In a Handbasket, I Tell You

I wasn't aware Jesus had a cervix.
Is it worth mentioning here that Ms. Maher, The Family Research Council's policy analyst on marriage and family issues, enjoys reading, walking, spending time with her friends and family, and spoiling her nieces and nephews? For the uninitiated, this is Family Research Council code for "Our policy analyst on marriage and family issues is neither married, nor has children of her own."

Success!

I could give you the long story here, but I'll spare you. I have a paltry amount of cash now, and through a long series of antics I even avoided the dreaded overdraft fee. Unfortunately, however, I have been waylaid by allergies in the meantime, and will thus not return until at least tomorrow or Friday.
So if they's parties this weekend, count me in. Provided I don't drown in my own mucus first.

Short-Lived Relief

I'm done. I'm a first-year Senior. This time in 2007 I will have had my show, and been on a several week bender by this time. That's a nice thought.
Cara Y. and I have decided to have our shows together. And yes, we're going to milk the name thing for all it's worth. Also, our opening reception will feature vats of Indian food, and the ensuing party will be one for the record books. You have two years advance notice, I will accept no excuses.

I just read my "quickie" horoscope : "Watch every dime. Your account balance may not be what you expect -- check it." Funny, because before reading this, I did just that, thinking I had enough for a cup of coffee and a few rounds at dollar beer night, with perhaps enough left over to hit up burger night tomorrow. HA! It was a noble plan, but once again, my calculations were horribly off, and I discovered I have no dimes to watch. Barring some sort of miracle, it looks like I'm stuck here until payday on the tenth. That makes me very sad, as I was looking forward to celebrating the graduations of some of my favorite people this weekend. I have requests in to the money gods, and I'm crossing my fingers.

See you when I see you.