"a backstreet lullaby"

SXSW Day 2 (Thursday) dawned bright and early. Too bright and too early, thanks to the giant window in my hotel room which, because I am lame, did not have the curtains closed. Actually, I didn't close the curtains once during the entire week, and while that may seem pretty dumb, I sort of think if someone has a telescope trained specifically on the window of 603 at the Embassy Suites, they can see whatever they'd like.

Armed with a mimosa-to-go, Courtney and I decided we wanted Actual Food. A few years ago at south by, I came up with a new rule: must consume one sit-down meal a day. Preferably with something green in it. Man cannot live by Roppolo's alone. So we ate at the fairly new (I think? Wasn't there last time I drove by it) tex-mex restaurant near 4th and Lavaca. I had ceviche! Which, as you may very well know, is a biological imperative to keep my body functioning at optimum levels of contentment.

After that, Courtney really wanted to go down to Trophy's, on So Co, to see The Gin Riots perform. So off we went!

A quick note on Trophy's: They had no cold dos equis. This is of course a travesty. I mean, it was okay, there was Shiner 100, but MY GOD, PEOPLE. This is Texas. WE HAVE A REP TO PROTECT. No dos equis is like a tex mex restaurant saying, "Sorry, we ran out of queso." It just shouldn't happen.

The band playing before The Gin Riots was a band called Here Holy Spain. I do not understand from whence their title springs. I have nothing at all to report on them, except that they SEEM nice, even if their look didn't exactly match their sound. It was sort of like watching the musical equivalent of drinking water. I don't mean that in a rude way. Water is important. They just did nothing for me.

But the next act, London's The Gin Riots, certainly did. You guys, this band is sheer fun. I'd heard their single, "The Polka" before, and it's a fun, dance-worthy tune. So it came as a nice treat that the rest of their set was just as fun and dance-worthy. Courtney, in fact, did dance. I mostly took photos. Can you blame me? These boys are pretty:





The lead singer, Guy, has a sort of Elvis Presley-meets-Mark Bolan swagger,which I realize is giving him far too much credit as it stands now. But he was a pleasure to watch. And the members of the band were a pleasure to speak to, which Courtney and I did after their set. The conversation quickly jumped from "nice to meet you; are you enjoying Austin?" to an in-depth discussion about the last cycle of America's Next Top Model and the rape of dead squirrels. I would like to say that this is an unusual turn of events, but to be honest, it happens to me a lot.

Here is a video of them performing "The Polka" which doesn't really doesn't show their stage presence very well, but is good quality:



After we left Trophy's, it was time for that most sacred of So Co traditions: cupcakes. I actually didn't go to Sugar Mama's that day (IKNOW, I KNOW. But don't worry, that's coming.) but rather just skipped across the road to Hey Cupcake:



Later on in the week, I was walking down Sixth street with a British person I had met, and we happened by the Hey Cupcake trailer, and he said "everything that's wrong with america can be summed up by the idea of a travelling cupcake caravan." That is a stone-cold true statement, if you replace the word "wrong" with the word "amaaaazing." I wish Sugar Mama's had a travelling cupcake caravan. And that it would travel to my office.

Sugar in our bellies, Courtney and I ventured onwards and upwards, back to downtown. The plan was to go to Latitude and see Frank Turner perform. Frank Turner is a British singer/songwriter, notable (for me, anyway) for having a song called "Thatcher Fucked The Kids." I enjoy songs which are both political AND about ol' Mags, so I knew I'd like Frank Turner. Except he didn't play the song! What the eff, Mr Turner?

Here is a photo of Frank Turner, and Courtney:



Why are you doing that with your hand, Frank Turner? You're not cute enough to get away with douchebaggery. Pretty much no one is.

At Latitude, before Frank Turner's set, Courtney and I happened to meet a SuperFan for a man who was playing guitar for Frank Turner. (Like many overseas solo musicians, Turner hired a local band to perform backup.) Constantly bordering on the verge of SuperFandom myself (seriously, do not mention the words "Yeti," "Pulp," or "The Libertines" to me - you will live to regret it.), I'm always interested in talking to SuperFans. What is their motivation? How far have they travelled? Why do they exist? I am not going to cast aspersions on the actions/motivations of this particular SuperFan; however, I will say that, because I am a selfless human being, I manipulated SuperFan into switching places with Courtney so that Courtney could get closer to Frank Turner. You can thank me later, Courtney!

Frank Turner's set was over, and it was time for Courtney and I to part ways! I was going to go over to the Mohawk to see Bishop Allen, but quickly changed my plans when I saw the line to get INTO the Mohawk. Some other time, Bishop Allen! Instead, I went to Elysium, where Aqualung and Ed Harcourt were playing.

I feel I should pause for a second and explain that I'm not ACTUALLY obsessed with British people, despite my taste in music, cider and, perhaps, boys. I just try to plan my sxsw schedule to see bands I won't otherwise see throughout the year. Lots of North American bands, as well as some from other countries, will come tour Texas. British bands, on the other hand, have some sort of fatwa against touring the southern states of America. So I grab the chance to see them when I can, which is usually sxsw.

Moving on, I arrived at the Elysium, grabbed a drink, and immediately was hit with a wave of sxsw-related fatigue. All I wanted was easy access to booze and a place to sit down. The perfect place was on the stairs, next to where the artists were storing their equipment. This led to Aqualung bashing me in the head with his guitar case. THIS led to an unfortunate joke I made later in the evening to some of my friends, likening the guitar case to a bunny slope and me to Natasha Richardson. Too soon?

Around this time, I received a text from a guy I'd met previously in the evening, and he came over to meet me. We drank and listened to both Aqualung* and Ed Harcourt, and I wasn't too impressed with either act, but then again, I was drunk and busy talking to a cute boy, so what can you do? Maybe someday, Ed Harcourt. Maybe someday.

From Elysium, I went over to Maggie Mae's, where I had no idea who was playing, but I did know that I could stand on the roof and take in the great Austin night air. It all seemed perfect until I had to look for the restrooms, and realized that I had to WALK ACROSS THE STAGE to get to them. What an insane set up, Maggie Mae's. I do not want to be a member of a band just because I have to go to the bathroom. Besides which, if I'm going to be onstage with any band, it's going to be one of these:

Unexpected Bassist
Secret Baby and the Big-House Bruises
What Are Your Thoughts on Yaoi?
The Funky Meercats

These, by the way, are the band names that I have come up with over the years. They can't be any worse than Natalie Portman's Shaved Head.

I have to say that I actually didn't see any bands past 11 pm on Thursday night. Instead, I wandered around Austin in the guise of showing it off to someone else, spent time at a church, and, in typical Klutzy Erin fashion, managed to totally eat curb whilst trying to catch a taxi. (my knee is still skinned) In typical sxsw style, though, it's the down time, the moments in-between, which fill up the expanse of memory. I may not remember the exact hook to a song I heard, but I will always remember the breeze against my face on the roof of Maggie Mae's, the heat of the sun pressing insistantly against my arms earlier that day, or the feeling of a warm hand holding mine. I call South by "magic time," and it is, but everything that's magical about it is merely the exaltation of the mundane. I just appreciate it more during that week than I do any other time.

* I originally typed "Aqualunch" which is so good that I'm going to claim it as another possible band name.

SxSW Stats for Day Two:

Hours Slept: 3.5
Acts Seen: 8
Acts Loved: 2 (ooh, slow day)
Drinks Consumed: 12 (5 of which were bought for/given to me)

"i require 1.21 gigawatts of electricity to party."

I've been really super busy (as usual) lately, both with work and with pursuits outside of work, so I haven't had a chance to talk about the International House of Amandas' housewarming party that was held this weekend. But now I can!

This is Amanda. And Amanda.



Okay, so the Amanda in the girl apron goes by Mandy, whose face as you may know is a regular feature on this here blog. Her roommate, Amanda C, is just as awesome as the Mandy I've known and loved for ten years (jesus, we're old).

Because their new duplex was constructed in the 50s, they thought it only right to warm the house in the same style. So we all put on our very best pearl necklaces and took a good handful of qualuudes and proceeded to twist the night away.

Well, first, we had to do a little 50s recreation. Here are Matt and Mere - Mere is doing her job as a woman and keeping the house clean (and her parched throat satisfied with booze), while Matt makes sure she stays in line with a little bit of casual domestic violence. Gender oppression is fun!



(Also, while I have taken or seen tons of photos of Uncy Matt over the ten years I've known him - UGH! OLD! - I think this is the very best. He looks so cartoon-y!)

But 50s women didn't just make sure their floors were as sparkling as their reputations, they also prepared food for their hungry husbands to consume after coming home from a long day's work at the Savings and Loan. Here Anji demonstrates the appropriate way to prepare meals while also looking perfectly put together:



I can't wait for her pot roast! And that's not a vaguely inappropriate joke about sex! I just really like pot roast!

Everyone looked freaking amazing, and very authentic (down to the valium I took just to get through the day). Even Mister Rupert Fantastico got in the spirit:



Hey, hound dog!

But the best part of all was that the party was truly a family affair. Dig Amanda's awesome parents (to the left in both photos)!




And look at Mere and Miss Pretty Lady (aka Kasey, her sister), all decked out in pearls and polka-dots:



Hey, guess what? I got adopted and am now an honorary Borders! I was telling Kasey how sad I was not to have a sister (well, Aly's my sister, but, like, a genetically related one) and she agreed that she already has about 12 siblings, what's one more? So now I'm a Borders girl! yay!

I've saved the best guests for last! First, there was a TINY LITTLE BABY (eight weeks) named Beckett who was there, with his awesome Flo's Diner-waitress mama and his Tall Drink of Water daddy. Baby Beckett was a greaser, and he was Fully Committed to the cause. Look at his manly bicep!



Sarah, I can hear you squeeing from here.

Also, there was Mia Belle, aka The Lemur, who added frivolty and fun and gorgeousness to the party. I adore her! She's my favorite kid who isn't m'elle or Sophia!



That's an IBC root beer, by the way, for authenticity that's still legal.

Plus, she's sort of a tough cookie:



Trust me, you don't want to mess with Mia Belle when she's on a bender. Kid is fierce.

Thanks for hosting us, International House of Amandas! I look forward to many more evenings of keeping my mouth shut and not interfering in man's business!

In conclusion, here is a picture of TC, because I always love taking pictures of him (plus you can see Amanda and her awesome outfit in the background):

Top Ten Things I Love About Austin

This happens anytime I visit Austin these days; I am filled with love for my old place of residence and dream wistfully of all the places I wish I could go every day. (Don't worry, then I dream about getting on Mopac or having to drive downtown past 12 at night or running into certain ex-boyfriends who want to glom all over me with their gross emotional issues, and I remember why I left.) So because I'm still on an Austin high, here are my Top Ten Things I Love About Austin (to be immediately supplanted with other things as I think them up later):

10) Driving through 360/Bee Caves and looking at houses.

When I was at school, Mandy and I used to climb in my car on weekday afternoons and drive around the hills of Austin. We'd make up stories about the people who lived in the giant houses towering above the lake and plan our own lottery-winnings-funded dream houses. I don't have any made-up stories of people in houses to share with you today, but instead you can have this true story:

I was a sophomore in college and I needed a new job, having been burned out (and burned, period) at my previous 40-hour job at the hair salon. (You guys, hair is SRS BZNZ, okay?) So I decided to nanny.

I know. It's cool; I'll wait till you stop laughing at the idea of me taking care of kids for a living. I laughed too.

Anyway, so this family included a previously-divorced woman, her new husband (who I never saw in five months of working there), his 18 year old son who lived in California, and their two girls, aged 5 and 7. I was never really clear, actually, on whether the girls were the absent husband's or the first husband's, and I thought it rude to ask. To paint a picture of the mom, who was the only non-child family member I ever saw, I will just tell you that she wore designer track suits and had her makeup tattooed on her face. Tattooed. And she wasn't like Mia's grandma in The Princess Diaries, you know, 70+ years old. She was like 40.

The first time I came to the house to meet the girls, the mom had the youngest one take me on a grand tour of the home. I was charmed by little Kayla's impestuous nature, but started to realize exactly what I was getting into when she led me into the third-floor playroom. Looking out the window, she said, "This window has to stay closed all the time because of Alli." (Alli was the 7 year old.) "Oh," I say. "Did she try to climb out of it?" "No," little Kayla replied, matter-of-factly. "She got jealous because the last babysitter was braiding my hair and not hers, so she threw the cat out the window."

Yeah. Threw the cat. Out of a third story window. Because she was jealous.

Why I didn't just cut and run then is still a mystery to me, although it may have been due to the size of my bank account. But no, like the moron I usually am, I stayed. Stayed through the fights and the tantrums and the spoiled princess behavior, stayed through 6 solid weeks of going to Chuck E Cheese EVERY DAY because their mom asked me to take them, stayed through the Friday afternoon drive to the kids' psychotherapy appointments (I am not even kidding), Alli pitching a fit because she didn't want to "color some fucking house" and Kayla humming to herself like a space cadet.

Oh, it was a time. The final straw came when Kayla pitched a fit because I wouldn't let her ride her bicycle in the house, due to, you know, the priceless works of art and also the fact that it's Austin in October and it's gorgeous out. She walked over to the grand piano and started kicking it and hitting it, picking up sculptures and vases and slamming them against the keys. That was the point when their mom came home, and I explained what was going on. She said she'd handle it, and she certainly did, in her weird hippie-mom way: "Kayla, I appreciate that you're expressing your anger artistically."

That was is. That was the reprimand. "I appreciate that you're expressing your anger artistically." That was the point when I knew I just couldn't do it anymore.

I often think about little Alli and Kayla, who'd be teenagers now, and wonder if their mother has completely destroyed any hope of normalcy for them. But when I pass those big houses in the hills, I always figure that is exactly what's going on behind closed doors.

9)Dolce Vita gelato shop in Hyde Park

This is one of those Austin places that make me sad now, because it's gotten really snobby and expensive and lame, I hear. And, to be fair, it was always a little snobby and expensive, but it used to not be lame. Katherine, Mandy and I would go here late on Tuesday nights and eat gelato and drink cappucino and smoke expensive hand-rolled cigars that we bought from Mojo's (that'd top my list if it were still the real thing) and generally be pretty douchey and snobby ourselves. But I am a firm believer that everyone deserves a little luxury, even poor college kids who just want to talk about whether Leo and Greenlee are ever going to FINALLY get together.

Also, since it's an italian dessert shop, I never felt guilty about taking my Italian books there to study. I was ABSORBING CULTURE. In the form of pomegranate gelato.

8) B Side/The Showdown*

I had to list these together because they represent my two favorite bars in Austin, for two very different reasons. I lived next door to the Showdown for five freaking years, and I am not even kidding when I say that I used to drink there in my pjs. Why not? It was just next door! Jeannie and Grae's boyfriend Mel and I used to skip class and go play pool all day, drinking pitcher after pitcher of Shiner until we were so stumbling drunk that we could barely find our way home. Which was NEXT DOOR. Of course, The Showdown is now sort of Dead To Me, after they kicked us out one time after catching Mere drinking without an ID. It was my celebratory "I can drink again!" night, too, which is just uncool, Showdown.

My other favorite bar in Austin is B Side, both for its laid-back-yet-sort-of-swanky-atmosphere and the fact that it never, never checked IDs. The first time I ever went there was when I was invited to a photograper's gallery opening after-party. There I was, nineteen years old, surrounded by skinny models (he was a fashion photographer, and he dated my coworker) and tons of rich Austin people. I had no idea what I was even doing there and sort of wanted to fade into the walls, but instead I got pulled up to the bar, bought several rounds of drinks, and ended up making about 10 new friends. And then, later on in my college career, my bestie Lucas and I would always end up at B Side, because we were both unbearably posh but also sort of poor (B Side's perfect clientele!). I miss your Manhattans, B Side!

*Yes, yes, Mugshots is totally number three.

7) The Enchanted Forest

What's that you say? I can't include it on my list because I just discovered it? I don't think so! The Enchanted Forest totally deserves a place of honor. It's enchanted.

6) Whole Foods flagship store

That's sort of a cliche, but it's true, so what can I do? I'd moved away during the construction of the flagship store, and I came back to visit Austin and randomly ran into Matt at Taco Shack (more on that later). We decided to hang out for a while, and he asked if I'd been to the new Whole Foods. When he learned I hadn't, he just laid a gentle hand on my arm and said very solemly, "Erin, the cheese section. You're going to need someone to catch you when you collapse." He was so right, too. UGH, MARRY ME, CHEESEMONGERS.

5) Mozart's

This is Mozart's:



It is my number one studying/thinking/espresso-shake-consuming place in Austin. I miss being able to go there whenever I wanted and enjoy delicious baked goods in the cool breeze off Lake Austin.

4) Waterloo Records

Where else can you stock an entire esoteric record collection in a half-hour's time?

3) Mexican Martinis at Trudy's.

Look, I know Trudy's is overrun with people most of us want to avoid (i.e. all of Austin), but that does not change the fact that Mexican Martinis are possibly God's greatest gift to mankind, right after free will. They are delicious and toxic and cause everyone to love each other in all the right ways.

If you've never been to Trudy's, let me explain the rules. You are allowed two Mexican Martinis. That's it, no more. They come with the glass and the shaker, so two actually equals about 8 or 9 regular martinis. Of course, like with everything, there's a way to get around this rule. If you sit at the bar before you go eat (or eat and then sit at the bar), you can order a Mexican Martini there as well, bringing you to a grand total of three Mexican Martinis in one evening. I have prepared this simple chart of the effects of Mexican Martinis for your perusal:

Half of one Mexican Martini - stop obsessing over your Italian final which you're pretty sure you just bombed.

One Mexican Martini - start thinking you did pretty damn good on the Italian final that you maybe didn't even bomb.

One and a half Mexican Martinis - start speaking in Italian about your Italian final that you are now sure you aced. Probably you will earn some sort of award for being a genius at lo coniugazione di verbi imperfetti.

Two Mexican Martinis - Summon the nerve to ask out cute guy in your Italian class.

Two and a half Mexican Martinis - Ask out the cute girl in your Italian class, too. The more the merrier!

Three Mexican Martinis - think it's a really swell idea to dive into the shallow end of a pool, forgetting that A) you don't really know how to dive, B) you are wearing all of your clothes and C) when you slam your chin against concrete, it tends to really hurt.

Three Mexican Martinis plus one Dos Equis in the hot tub: Stop feeling chin pain altogether.


For the record, the above did happen to me, although on two different nights. The night of the Italian final, I ended up sitting on the floor of Trudy's, giggling and talking about Francesco, the hot Italian grad student. While Francesco's girlfriend was sitting right next to me (also on the floor). The pool incident also involved a trip to the steam room. SUCH A BAD IDEA.

2) BookPeople

BookPeople is my absolute, favorite store in Austin. When I first moved there, I just wanted something that would remind me of my absolute, favorite store in Houston (BookStop, natch), and I found and fell in love with BookPeople. I love that store so much. Just . . . so many books! A children's area that even I want to read in! The science section alone, people!

But the best part about BookPeople is that the people who work there love books and want everyone to love books like they do. When I was a junior at UT, I decided to read The Divine Comedy. In Italian. In the original Italian that Dante used, not a modern abridged copy. So I went to Barnes and Noble and asked the customer service person how I could go about purchasing this book.

Me: "Hi, I'm looking for a book. Dante's The Divine Comedy, but in Italian."
Her: ". . . ."
Me: "See, I've written down the title for you in Italian - just right here - I was wondering if there was some way you could order it? Because you don't have it in stock."
Her: "Who is . . . Dante? Is this a new release?"
Me: "Um, no, it's . . . The Divine Comedy? Dante? Can you just search for it?"
Her: "Oh, here we go. The Divine Comedy. It'll be 120 dollars and it'll take three months to get here because it's out of print."
Me: "Okay, never mind."

But I just couldn't get the idea out of my head, so I went to BookPeople and asked their customer service people.

Me: "Okay, this is stupid, but I'm looking for The Divine Comedy. But in Italian."
Him: "Hmm, okay. Do you have a translation of the title that I can search for?"
Me: "Sure. Here you go."
Him: "Hmm, I'm not showing it in stock . . ."
Me: "Yeah, I figured."
Him: "So we'll just order it for you. Should come in in about a week, okay? What's your number, I'll call you when it gets here."
Me: "Really? The Divine Comedy? By Dante? In Italian? You can order it and it'll be here next week?"
Him: "well, sure."
Me: "awesome!"

- one week later -

Me: "Hi, my name is Erin, I got a call about a book - "
Girl: "oh! The Divine Comedy, right?"
Me: "Yes! In Italian?"
Her: "Yep! Here it is, right here. We put your name on it so no one would take it. Do you want to purchase it?"
Me: "Oh, well, I sort of figured I had to at this point."
Her: "No, not unless you look at it and approve of it."
Me: (looks at book.) "Yeah, I'll buy it. Um, how much?"
Her: "Twenty-three dollars, please."
Me: "Oh! Great! Okay, here! So I was just wondering how you got it so fast?"
Her: "Oh, we just researched until we found an independant book store in Milan and ordered it from them. They were happy to ship it quickly."

So, that's my BookPeople story. I came in with a silly request, and not only did they know what I was talking about, but they found me a book from some tiny little bookstore in Milan and paid the shipping costs. ♥

1) Breakfast Tacos

Oh, sure. Other places have Breakfast Tacos. Bob's Taco Stand in my hometown of Richmond has amazing breakfast tacos. But no city has quite the proliferation of The Most Holy Of All Foods like Austin does. Everywhere you turn, there are breakfast tacos, and they're all delicious. Mmm, chorizo. Marry me.

So I don't really have a question to ask today, like "What are your favorite Austin things?" because not everyone who reads this has even been to Austin before. But I'd like to know what your favorite things are about any town you miss, so please tell me!

"you guys want prayer? you want some prayer?"

Good news, Blogger now offers publish-on dates and times. That would make me look a lot more prolific and/or prescient. Well, I don't think it can publish things IN THE PAST so it looks like I knew what would happen months in advance, so prescience will have to wait. Damn.

My friend Brianna, being otherwise a very smart girl, has decided to leave Texas and move back home to LA. This is, of course, the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard until such time as I need a place to stay in Los Angeles, at which point it will become an act of sheer brilliance, unparalleled in these modern times. But we decided to have one last hurrah in Austin before she spirits away to the homeland. This is a true account of Saturday, 3 May. Well, all the parts I can legally publish without being sued.

I was, of course, running super late (I am either 30 minutes early or an hour late to everything. It's one of my more annoying flaws.) and didn't get to Austin till around 4:30, an hour and a half later than I told Brianna and K (her roommate and also my friend and also leaving Texas - what the hell?) to meet me. They were late too, though, so it was all for the best. Eventually, though, I met up with them at Waterloo. And they brought Taylor! Taylor's their friend from Fort Worth, but now he's MY friend too, and I love him and want to keep him on my keychain so that he can be around me all the time, offering witty repartee and mocking strangers.

So we scoured the used records section of Waterloo, debating the finer points of Tony Orlando and Dawn and discovering that there is, indeed, a "Teen Scene" in Fort Worth - three volumes of music worth!

As you can see from these photos Brianna took, we also managed to engineer the DNA splicing of human and 12 in. vinyl, creating the perfect Human-Record mutant. Look for Radiohead to steal this technology in their next album release.



Taylor dresses up.



I bet you didn't know that Lucius Malfoy had released a Greatest Hits album, did you?

After we got tired of annoying the Waterloo staff and patrons, K and Brianna decided to show me and Taylor The Enchanted Forest, which is possibly one of the greatest places in Austin and I never even knew it existed before now! I don't know how I could have lived in that town for so long without discovering the magic that is The Enchanted Forest, but I know now that I will drag everyone I meet there.

The Enchanted Forest is off Oltorf, and from the outside, it looks a bit dodgy - rundown shack and creaky, ominous gate. But we walked inside and it was like a world of wonders had opened up before us. There were so many amazing things to discover!





This is like my own personal alter.







K and I decided to live in this tiny little house. Look, it even comes with a change of clothes.



Of course, not everything can be perfect. I ran into my nemeses, but I cut a wide path around them.



These fowl, being fake, are much more palatable.



On the Coast of Coromandel/Where the early pumpkins grow/In the middle of the woods/Lived the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.







The whole place is like this, full of treasures large and small.



I feel like that's an accurate summary of my life: "starts like theatre ends like circus."

Of course it wasn't all fun and games:



Dolls are always creepy. Hanging them by a noose just ups the creep factor.



This jungle gym went to nowhere. Also it was too tall/held together by duct tape, so we didn't try to climb it.

After we left The Enchanted Forest, we stopped at HEB for refreshments of an adult nature. Also, I tried explaining my Brilliant New Plan of reading/reviewing every VC Andrews book and blogging about them to Brianna and K, but I think they're too young to appreciate the kitchy appeal. And/or they just never spent a lot of time reading trashy novels at age 10 like I did.

After that, we went to meet K's cousin Micah and his friends at the doggy park on the lake! It was the perfect way to spend the late afternoon - drinking champers and making new friends, both human and canine, while watching the sun slip down over the hills.





I don't know, but it was RLY FUNNY.

I feel these photos accurately explain Brianna's animated style of talking:







Micah's amused.



But Micah's friends are confused.

Okay, and then after Micah and his friends left (bye Micah! See you in about 4 hours!), I fulfilled a life-long dream of mine - taking jumping pictures.

It turns out that jumping pictures are REALLY hard to take. You have to hit the shutter quick enough to focus the camera, but late enough to catch the jumping. Most of my pictures turned out like this:



K is a superhero.

But finally, FINALLY, it worked:



MENTOS! The freshmaker!



We were so excited about our success that we RADIATED happiness. Awesome.

After we took on the world of professional jumping, I got some food because I hadn't eaten all day (why do I keep doing that?), and then we drove to Taylor's friend's house. Only Taylor's friend was still out to dinner, so we parked in a church parking lot and talked about life, etc. All of a sudden, a church van comes roaring up to our cars. The driver of the van rolls down his window, and the following encounter ensues:

Me: "Oh . . . hey. Sorry, we can leave, we were just awaiting directions from a friend and we thought we'd park somewhere until he calls us back."
Church Van Driver: "No, it's okay! It's totally okay!"
Me: "Are you sure? Cause we can leave, it's not a big deal."
CVD: "No! It's good! It's great! We're pumped! We've got the spirit tonight!"
Me: "That's . . . great."
CVD: "We've got a van full of teenagers with the spirit!"

At this, the map lights of the van turn on, the doors open and I would not be exaggerating to say that 15 teenagers spilled out on all sides. It was like something out of a horror movie - should I run? Should I bravely stand in front of my friends and face these people down with only my wits and a heavy purse? (To be fair, that purse had my camera and a bottle of Stella in it, so it might have made a good weapon.) Should I start quoting scripture?

Me: "Oh . . . my . . ."
Girl from Van: "Hey, guys! How are you doing tonight? You guys want prayer? You want some prayer?"
Me: "No, but we'll take some conversation?"

And then they just got in the van and left. It was surreal, to say the least. I hasten to add that their church was one of the new-agey, renovated airplane hanger churches. I mistrust those churches, where everyone wants to be your friend and take you bowling. I'm a Methodist. In my mind, church should be full of starched shirts and old women in hats and The Apostles' Creed. These are the things I am comfortable with, not being offered prayer in a deserted parking lot off 51st street, bottles of Stella quickly stashed in the seats of the car. Although I suppose from the youth group's point of view, this is the exact reason I should have been offered prayer.

So, after that, we high-tailed it out of there (after denouncing a certain pyramid scheme which poses as a religion and which I will not mention in public by name as I am afraid they'll sue me/take me to their mother ship) and went to Taylor's friend's house, which was really super nice. I miss nice, affordable living.

Then we drove to pick up Micah from his apartment, and stopped at Starbucks for a much-needed caffeine boost. We all had plans for later in the evening (Brianna and K's included stalking Jack White) and we all needed our energy up for the hours ahead. Ahem.

Here is me and Micah and Taylor! We're so happy with our caffeine!



After we got revved up, we went downtown, where we ran into kids coming out of prom! It is a not-so-secret facet of my personality: I effin' love prom. I mean, not my own, which were sort of lame, but other people's. In fact, one time in college, my friends and I crashed a prom and had a fucking blast. We played only the music we wanted to hear ("You want Toby Keith? Sorry, you're getting Warren G.") and brought flasks and basically did all the things we should have done at our own prom, but didn't because we were busy being studious and well-behaved. It was amazing, and extremely cathartic.

After walking around downtown for a while, we came to a stop at Cedar St courtyard, which was playing an amazing assortment of Divinyls and MJ and Sir Mix-a-Lot. And that's where I had to bid a fond adieu to my new friends and my old ones, because I had plans with someone else for the rest of the night. But although I already miss everyone terribly, I know we'll see each other again soon. In fact, The Most Rubbish Band In The World is going on US tour in November (we think, or maybe we're just spreading that rumor until it comes true) and we already have plans to hijack them. Until then, we'll always have The Enchanted Forest!

a sea chanty of sorts

Hey, guys! I'm back! Have you missed me? Don't all say yes at once.

I'm so sorry for the radio silence; I've just been too busy to blog lately. See, normally I write my blog posts on my work computer on my lunch break after sending Meredith a whinging email which basically reads: "Meeeeredith. Tell me what to write about today!" And then I either save them or email them to myself, spruce them up later, and post them quickly at the end of the day. But I've been in training (to be a superhero) for the last two weeks, and while I did manage to check my email and compose several odes to my class instructor's wonderful hair during the training session, I thought blog writing might be frowned upon. And I was too busy at night with 1200 birthday celebrations (some of which were even my own) to do much of anything at my apartment other than feeding the cats and shuffling off to bed.

But now training is over, so you can look forward to reading more of my ridiculous diatribes against avians, if that's your sort of thing. (I might add, however, that none of my blog contributors cowboyed up during my absence. I am breaking up with them.)

So what did you guys do over the weekend? I was a pirate! That's right, an actual skull-and-crossbones wearing, rum drinking, yo-ho singing pirate. My fierce crewmates and I took to the high seas (of Lake Travis) and totally swashbuckled our way into pirate legend! But perhaps I should explain exactly how my pirate's life came to be.

Henri decided to have a Pirate Party, if for no other reason than to get Sarah in a very tiny outfit.



He roped the Drafthouse into sponsoring it, which opened the party up for tons of pirates I'd never met before (a few of whom I perhaps got to know too well by the end of the evening. Ah, rum. You do it to me every time.). And what pirates they were! Henri had specified that no one was allowed on board if they weren't dressed as pirates, and everyone took him at his word. There were some amazing looking pirates up on that boat, y'all. Look at this crowd shot from Sarah:



Doesn't everyone look arrrrsome? Have you started stashing your bounty in a safe place yet?

There were also some ill-advised breast adventures happening, much to my delight and many of my friends' consternation. One lady in particular had corseted her lovely lady lumps in such a way as to have them creating a third and fourth breast, which was just no good. No one likes quadraboob, lady. Sadly, I don't have any photos of that to share with you, but just go to a rennaissance festival somewhere. You'll get the general idea.

My crew was, of course, the fiercest around:



Look at us! You don't want to mess with us, do you? Cause we will cut you with Mandy's plastic sword, and it will totally hurt for at least a few seconds.

Speaking of Mandy, doesn't she look AMAZING with facial hair?



You guys know my type: full beard or nothing at all. But I think I can find it within myself to love someone with facial hair as fierce as that.

We boarded the boat and set off for parts unknown, immediately trading in our drink tickets for a fantastic concoction of rum and sugar-water and seeing who could consume the most ceviche in the shortest amount of time. Mandy won, because she is the Rainman of pickled foods, but I gave her a fair run for her money. Then we all just sat and chatted as Henri spun classic boating songs such as "Rock the Boat" and the Love Boat theme song. The weather was gorgeous; the lake a rippled mirror for that big Texas sky. The air was cool but the sun was warm and it was just the perfect pirating weather. My crewmates and I danced and caught up on each other's lives and generally had a great time:






(the delightful Josh and Erica are studiously ignoring Mandy's slowjamz.)


Upon discovering an uncharted isle, however, we came across our first pirating obstacle! We encountered a party boat full of frat boys and their poor, soon-to-be-date-raped companions, and a fierce battle ensued. We waved our swords, they waved their genitalia . . . it was not pretty. John and I stood way back as we were unsure about the airborne capabilities of the clap and thought it better to be safe than sorry. I mean, just look at these people:


courtesy of sarah

Would you want their fleshy manparts anywhere near you?

Eventually, our pirate fortitude (or, as Henri put it, "the power of geeks in groups") won out and we claimed the isle in the name of . . . wait a tick, we're pirates. We don't need to claim anything for anyone but ourselves. That's the beauty of being a pirate!

Docked, we scrambled on the island in search of gold. Henri surveyed his crew:



I didn't get any gold, but I did get a tear in my stockings and a chat with a lovely woman called Amy for my troubles, so all in all, it wasn't a total waste.

Back on board, our thoughts turned, as they naturally do, to Dance Party! Luckily for us, we'd taken Car Stereo (Wars) hostage and he provided us with ample jams to which we swashbuckled and plundered all evening:



He also provided me with tummy flutterings, cause he is v. cute fer srs. Also, he played NKOTB for me (what? That is a totally topical musical choice.), and as we all know, the quickest way to my heart is through my eleven-year-old crush, Joey McIntyre. (Oh, Joey McIntyre, with your Smiley shirt and your gorgeous eyes. Let's hold hands at recess.) So thank you, Car Stereo (Wars). Also, your computer looks really complicated.

As ever with a dance party, I roped a bunch of strangers into dancing with me. This totally led to me making out with two of them, which was an unexpected gift-with-purchase of my pirate adventures. I must say, either my dancing's gotten better or everyone was a lot drunker (I think it was the latter) because that doesn't usually happen during dance parties. Which is probably good news for my reputation, if not my ego.



I think this photo accurately sums up both the craziness of our Pirate moves and my current state of inebriation.

After I just couldn't dance anymore, I went down to the lower level of the boat, where I ran into the delightful Tim League, who insisted I should drink more, not less. Tim: "I'm Tim League! I own this boat!" Me: "No, you don't." Him: "But I own the alcohol, and I'm giving it to you!" So even though I really, really did not need any more booze, Tim supplied me with several more drinks. Yo ho!

As the party wound down and we shuffled back to the marina, I exchanged cupcakes with Sarah and got Amber in return. Which was a pretty good trade-off, as we had a great time in the backseat of Matt's land-vessle. (Talking, obviously. Get your minds out of the gutter, mateys.) Matt took us to the douchetastic Treasure Island where we met up with some of our brave crew for even more dancing. And, in my case, pouting because I thought I'd broken my camera. (I didn't, it's fine. Yay!) But my emos over the possibly-broken camera were too great to suffer a bunch of frat boys, so Matt and I went over to Bull McCabe's to see Randy. Yay, Randy! I can't remember the last time I saw him, so it was really nice to catch up. Plus, more free beer:



After closing, a still-piratey Meredith and Henri joined us:



And then we all went safely to the various homes of various people, but didn't actually get to bed until after five. Arrr.

You know, earlier in the day, as we drifted down the lake, it occured to me that with the water, the waves, the houses wedged into the hillsides and the taste of spring on the air, I could pretend I was anywhere in the world. France or Italy or somewhere in the Pacific. And I realized I'd not want to be anywhere other than right where I was, seeing old friends, making new ones and feeling connected to a whole boat of strangers. I guess a pirate's life truly is for me.