Getting through SXSW tip
Pass time by counting every girl wearing high-waisted cut off frayed jean shorts. Bonus points if they’re paired with animal print/ neon leggings.
Triple word score if it’s a puke yellow jumper worn by Lena Dunham in the last episode of ‘Girls.’
If I were interested
I’d be on your doorstep with a boombox, singing Sophie B. Hawkins “Damn, Wish I Were Your Lover” so, you know, there’s really no reason to text me at 1:30 a.m.
What Ifs, or, Why Bobbie is Single
- What if he uses emoticons?
- What if he supports fracking without considering the environmental costs, the health effects on well water for people who don’t own the mineral rights to their land and the degradation of small town life in rural Texas I mean I obviously know a lot about this because I just watched a Frontline documentary on it and also Gasland?
- What if he doesn’t like Frontline documentaries?
- What if he loves Florida Georgia Line or any form of mainstream Nashville country that involves white dudes rapping?
- What if he’s one of those dudes who’s all ‘I’m not into playing games’ but then proceeds to play games?
- What if he takes pictures of himself shirtless with his iPhone 5?
- (No there’s no way he does that I could never be attracted to someone who does that no way no siree)
- What if he doesn’t understand my love for Bruce Springsteen, specifically “Secret Garden,” which is the greatest love song of all time because it celebrates a woman’s inner complexities and a fickle-bitch-nature and also, duh, Bruce is an American hero?
- Seriously though, what if he uses emoticons because honestly that is the least sexy thing a man can do, especially ;) or :)~ GOD just STOP and USE WORDSSS
Five Months in the Life
I don’t know why I just haven’t been able to write lately—I guess between writing for the paper and serving gourmet deli sandwiches to the masses (the Lord’s work) all I have the energy to do at the end of the day is roll up in a blanket burrito, eat a giant Italian sub and fire up a Ken Burns documentary. But I’ve missed you so I’m dumping a 4 month-buildup of emotional garbage on you in one post.
Some things:
- I went on real, actual dates. Like, three of them. Well, two and a half (men). Guys, dating is so stupid. It’s honestly one of the cruelest things two people can do to each other without exacting physical violence. That’s not to say the dates were bad. They weren’t! He was super-nice and attractive and normal. We saw some movies and had some forced conversations. I learned that he’s really into the CW superhero drama “Smallville” and Matthew McConaughey is really convincing when he’s assaulting someone with a can of pumpkin pie filling. But I just felt…nothing, which is totally normal but occasionally I still feel pangs of guilt like I’ve somehow wronged someone because I don’t want to continue sitting with him in cold, dark spaces watching emotionally traumatizing food-related deaths. On the one hand, yeah, sometimes people just don’t click. On the other, a beautiful feminist alt-country musician isn’t about to fall out of the sky and beg me to love him so I should probably stop being so weird and off-putting to men.
- (Oh but I do have a stupid crush on this guy who comes in the restaurant and he has salt and pepper hair but not in a Just For Men way, more like in a Ben Affleck playing a single dad way and he always has lunch with his dog and my heart buzzes with a medley of Belinda Carlisle songs every time I see him so that’s fun)
- Lately, all I want to do is travel. Mainly because I love Texas so much and want to see everything in it. But I’m sure it also has to do with the fact that I’m never satisfied and any time my life shows the slightest hint of stalling I start making plans to drop everything and move to Shitkick, TX pop. 203 to work at Alice’s Restaurant serving grits and coffee to hungry truckers. All I want to do is drive down ranch roads and sit in lowly lit restaurants and buy a thousand cups of coffee at gas stations and have Important Revelations about my life. Sometimes I think I do, but they’re always long gone by the time I get home.
- OK, I still don’t have A Real Job™ and that’s part of the problem. I make most of my income working at a restaurant but introduce myself as a freelance writer, which sometimes sounds the same as “unicorn hunter.” My name is in print and sometimes I get real, actual money for it and that’s exciting but I still don’t have a ~career~ as a writer with a salary that allows me to get Chipotle (WITH guacamole) on a more regular basis or health benefits that would allow me the luxury of getting influenza/scurvy/ a raging case of crotch rot because LOL going to a doctor what is that
- I started taking two-step lessons at a fitness center in a fancypants living community in North Austin so I can finally get my proper dance on at Gruene Hall and the Broken Spoke. Today was my third week and the instructor spends half of every class talking about the “oneness” of dance has yet to play anything but Shania Twain’s “Any Man of Mine.” On loop. When I finally get my very own Wrangler Brushpopper shirt everything in my life will be perfect.
Let's Talk About Tex: Bandera, TX: Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Tourists
This journey really begins nearly two decades ago when I first fell in love with Bruce Campbell. More specifically, Bruce Campbell as Brisco County Jr., an Ivy League educated lawyer turned bounty hunter in the Sci-Fi and Steampunk-tinged Old West. If you don’t revere this show the way I…
Deadwood’s Calamity Jane was my voice when I couldn’t speak. This video contains every insult, comeback and creative use of profanity you will ever need.
Do y’all know the Turnpike Troubadours yet? Because you need to. I went to their show in San Marcos last week and it was one of the best I’ve ever been to. Also their lead singer is tall, wears pearl snap shirts and a belt with his name on the back, plays the banjo, is from Oklahoma but loves Texas (I’m assuming) and knows every word to “Louisiana Saturday Night,” which coincidentally hits every mark on the love-of-Bobbie’s-life checklist. He also complimented my tattoo even after I turned into a weird groupie mouthbreather at the merch table and I melted into a puddle of Lone Star beer and oozed out the door like Alex Mack. In love.
During the first season or two of Roseanne, Roseanne Barr was treated horribly by the producers, who wanted to get rid of her, even though she was the creative genius behind the show, which was based entirely on characters she had developed. She went with “success is the best revenge,” working extra hard to make sure the show hit the #1 spot, knowing at that point she could seize creative control. She hung out with the crew and supportive castmembers (including John Goodman, who flat refused to do the show without her), and put a list on her door. That list had the name of every single person who worked on the show. When they pissed her off, she’d cross off their name in red. Everyone in red was to be fired the second she was in charge. She took this policy from Machiavelli, and she made good on it. Her first move was to fire everyone who had tried to shut her down. She also promoted a number of women writers and fired a number of men writers for being sexist. So, this shirt is no lie.
Honestly don’t know if there’s a bigger badass than Roseanne. I doubt it.
One year for Mother’s Day, we gave my mom a mug with that same design.
You know, to provide a little insight into my upbringing.
(Source: queer-tastic)
omg at this weak ass Target brand Sounds of the 50s compilation disc “My Girl” cover by “Various Artists” at the RNC. How can we trust you when y’all can’t even get a decent house band?
Willing to bet Mitt Romney lists The Beatles as his favorite band on Facebook. Followed by Maroon 5, to connect with “the youth.”
Bow before Adia the Vagina Goddess or perish, ye cretin.
(Source: okweirdo)
