It's Friday, I'm in Love

with the absurdity that is often me (and my life). Also, I mean tough love when I say love.

Exhibit A: Baby You Can Drive My Car

I think my car is lost somewhere in Tennessee. I think it was parked at a revival and was saved or something. Apparently, it doesn't feel compelled to join my atheist ass.

Exhibit B: All the Things She Said

Despite opposition (Mr. Shain, especially), I think I am going forward with the tat idea, and I'll tell you why. At this point in my life (questionable term), it's acceptable to ink oneself. When I am old and saggier, that stretched out tramp stamp (j/k I mean Looney Toons character on my hip) will be a permanent reminder of the things that drove me in my (semi) youth. No, not Pabst, Chee-tos and ultimate slovenliness, but poetry, idealism, extreme liberalism, literature, shit like that - before I chuck it all for a three-stone ring, Volvo station wagon, three Montessori school attending kids with ADD and a mild prescription drug habit. That said, I am still torn about what I should actually get. I do like the Oklahoma idea, but this is permanent, folks. The dork piece of me wants to somehow incorporate one of my favorite poems (i carry your heart with me - ee cummings, Love Calls Us to the Things of This World - Richard Wilbur, and Deer Park - Wang Wei - but who's counting), but none of them have what I would consider tangible symbology that I would want somewhere on my body. As the old adage goes, if you build it, they will come. What?

C) Jealous Guy

Those of us in the know (by "know" I mean us dorks who spend waaay too much time reading blogs - because it rocks!), know that [redacted] is some good shit. I appreciate both Dan's (we're on a first name basis - in my mind) winning good looks and comical, but poignant insight on an almost daily basis. However, Shain went off on how brilliant this guy is last night and I was shocked to find I felt a tiny twinge of jealousy since Shain should only concern himself with proclaiming the sheer brilliance of this pile. Seriously, I actually thought about this.

P.S. Shain, who told you to read him? Me. That's who.

D) Don't Call Me Baby

The exbf and I were together for quite some time in various capacities for upwards of six years, but never really got around to establishing pet names for each other. Sure, he called me sweet nothings like "numbnuts," "nutsac," "booger," "nugget," and "booger nuts" but never consistently and never with the assured gusto of a committed boyfriend. I usually just called him [redacted] to his face and asshole to everyone else. Not really. This time around, and by this time, I of course mean never, I think I might want someone to call me names. Good ones, though. No, good is the wrong word. Traditional, I suppose. I have never been referred to as "baby" in that kind of a relationship. I think I'd like to give it a try. Something like, "Baby, I wanna buy you all kinds of expensive stuff forever and you're really good in bed and you're the prettiest in all the land!" but it will probably be more like, "Baby, you're snoring. Again. Baby! Roll over! Sweet Jesus, you sound like a jackhammer." Also, if either case were come to pass, I would probably vom a little, because that's how I roll with my heart made of scrap robot parts from the future.

E) Been Caught Stealing

Speaking of the exbf, he recently sent me an email saying simlply, "Zealand got sprayed by a skunk." Ok. I'm not sure how to go about responding or not responding to this. I asked my 13 year old students and they said I should shoot back "Sucks for the dog that you stole from me, asshole, but serves you right" or "Why are you trying to make me care about something I deeply love that I will never have? Thanks for everything! Love in Christ, Blythe" I get it. Even couples that go through nasty breakups can eventually communicate, but I don't want to know about the state of the dog that I lost and will never see again. It's just heartbreaking. But then again, I'm a big baby. The thing is, I want him to email me, I just want it to say something like, "I'm so sorry for being the biggest turd ever imaginable. Here's a million dollars." I suppose I should just say something involving tomato juice. I really fucking miss my dog. It hurts like a bitch.

F) You're So Vain

Because I am an elitist, I automatically like John Legend because he went to Penn. [I have completely and absolutely irrationally high education requirements for potential suitors (all part of Plan Sabotage). I will require it, then dislike you for it. It's fun, really.] Needless to say, I like this video. I want this song. And to go on vacation.



G) The Greatest Love of All

I'm feeling kinda down about things, to be honest. Maybe it's the rain. But, I mustn't forget what I've learned from that other "B."

School House Schlock*

One of my multiple roles within my position of Tween Wrangler is Confiscator of Notes. I've written a lot of notes in my day [in fact, Big Mve 07 unearthed a cache of old college notebooks, one bearing a lovely little ditty that I wrote to L-Ma about Maasai warriors and the Kalahari Desert. It's quite clever, except not. It's a lot harder to rhyme Maasai warrior and Kalahari than one would think]**, but kids these days. I intercepted one last week where this kid endlessly praised this chick's ass. You don't have an ass when you're 12. You're still shopping at Limited Too. I read another one today over a girl's shoulder. She was saying I was mean. She later asked me for help and I told her, 'no, I'm mean.' And because I really am mean. I was imagining what kind of middle school note my life would inspire at the moment. I think it would go like this:

Hey L-Ma,

Wuz up? I am sooooo bored, so I'm writing you this note. Did you watch The Hills this week? I feel so badly for Lauren. Can you believe Whitney fell? She had linebacker shoulders in that uglyass dress. I hate Spencer. Heidi is so stupid for not dumping his lame ass. I think [redacted] likes you. You should totally go out with him sometime. I wish [redacted] would call me. Whatever. His loss. Do you wanna go to the mall this weekend? I need some camo shorts from Abercrombie with a -2 inch inseam. They're going to be soo hott. Did you hear that John Edward's wife's cancer came back? That totally sucks, but he's still cute. Should I get a Brazilian? Ok, no. I think I'm gonna go off birth control since I'm never having sex again. I'm totally going to spend that extra $34/month on cd's. :) I can't wait for Grey's tonight! Wanna watch it in my room? Oh right, you have TIVO. Sweet! I feel fat. Do you think I'm pretty? Am I prettier than [redacted]? GTG, the bell's ringing.

TTYL, KIT, ROTFLMAO, LOTR, WOW, MSG, STP, MADD, PCP, UPS, MCAT, LSAT, AARP, NCAA, NAACP, NBC, MTV, NASA, H.O.M.E.S., U.N., SWV, SVU, JAG, BLT, GLBTA,

Blythe (in bubble letters, of course)

p.s. On Wednesday's we wear pink.

*I'm not entirely sure what "schlock" means.
** This post is almost entirely grammar free.

Goulet Wednesday News Round UP

Hey kiddies! Guess what time it is? Time to fill your head with the celebrity drivel I find interesting. Sounds great, doesn't it? It is.

• I feel pretty, I feel pretty, I feel pretty and witty and [TMZ]
• I'm goin' to rehab too, y'all. Ok, not really, but I could use the rehab diet. [Derek Hail via Jossip]
• I knew it! It's times like these that I'm really glad I bought that reversible Team Aniston/Jolie t-shirt. [Gawker]
• The latest in No Duh news: Jeremy Piven is a Jackass, Part 2. In related No Doy news: [Perez Hilton]. In related Perez Hilton news: [Best Week Ever].
• I am a nerd!! [buzzsugar]

blarghity blargh

Commenter Phobia:

I read a shit ton of blogs. I mean, a lot. A ridiculous amount, really (as in almost everything to the right - everyday). I'm not sure why (ok, some of them are quite humorous, well written, etc unlike this one). Is it an effort to escape the blahness of my life? Maybe, but my life isn't all that blah. Am I a voyeur at heart? My porn preferences say so, but still, I don't know. In any case, I spend a lot of time reading (i.e. an initial once over to check if the post is too long in which case I will immediately go to Best Week Ever because I have the attention span of a two year old on Ritalin), but cannot seem to make the leap to commenting. I get insanely nervous about comments. What if it's not funny? This question plagues me into my dreams, which incidentally included a little sex number about this guy (vocalist for Gym Class Heroes) - I dunno (but I am really into tattoos at the moment). I want to comment as much as I want comments of my own, but it seems that neither is meant to be.

Decisions, decisions:

I've got to thank L-Ma for this one. I think, were I to get a tattoo, much to the dismay of those of you who weighed in, I would get a small Oklahoma on the middle-ish of my back. That's crazy/stupid/weird! you say. And I agree, but so it goes. Fortunately for all involved, I am essentially broke and there will be no inking of my epidermis for some time.

Birthday of the day: Siobhlogger turns the big 3-0! Seriously, 30 is the new awesome.

Song of the day: By Your Side - Cocorosie. This one goes out to Margreat. It is haunting, much like you.

Video of the day:
>

Blog Pocket

Brother Bee-Spot and I have been walking around singing "hot pocket" about everything. Except we don't sing "hot pocket" we replace "hot" with something terribly banal, therefore witty. It's killer. Thanks Jim Gaffigan. You bring more joy to my life than you'll ever know. Or care.

Everyone is funnier than me

If you read this blog or know me, you know two things, 1) I'm not very funny and 2) I have an unhealthy obsession with Ira Glass [so, I was at Super Target (yes, it's as awesome as it sounds) this weekend and saw my real life Ira Glass. He had spikyish salt and pepper hair, black glasses, no wedding ring - it's on]. Fortunately for all of us, other people are funny.

World of B posted this hi-larious account of SXSW. I'm not gonna lie, I peed a little from laughing so hard. SXSW 2007: The Very First Review.

Via Hot Johnny (and all of his pants):



From The Onion: Anna Nicole Finally Reaches Target Weight.

So, guess what? SNL was actually funny (for a few minutes) this week.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday

Hi there kids! I realize that I do not have the best musical taste, but, actually I do. Here you go!

*i can't find a lot of these mp3s, so bear with the live/youtube stuff. sorry.

Chill Out Tent - The Hold Steady: Now, I know there are a lot of folks out there who've been up The Hold Steady's ass for a bit now, but I'm just getting around to checking them out in earnest. This song is pretty rad and it mentions Western Mass!

Snails - The Format: It's official, I'm obsessed with The Format. They're playing tonight at the Conservatory, but I think I'm going to wait for their show in Norman. Come with me!

The Owls Go - Architecture in Helsinki: I would listen to this on mushrooms. Attic in a basement...

We Will Become Silhouettes - The Postal Service. Ben Gibbard's voice is like an old friend. If I had any.



You Give Me Something - James Morrison: Um, yeah. This song brought to you by Starbucks and my mom. But you know what? I like it. And I totally bust it out in the shower. Don't invite me karaoking anytime soon.

Gamble Everything For Love - Ben Lee: He's right.

Level - The Raconteurs: Just when I think I can't like them more, I remember this song.

The Ballad of Bitter Honey - Eef Barzelay: Hoochie skanks has never sounded so sweet. Also, don't forget to listen to Clem Snide.

Montreal - Ariane Moffatt: I realized that I don't listen to lady singers much anymore. French is sexy.

I Love You, You Imbecile - Pelle Carlberg: Swedish Indie Pop!

Luke Doucet - Broken One: Because it's true.

Mocking Bird - Sitting Next to Brian: This has earned the coveted spot of my current song on MySpace. Yes, I am one of those people.

Old school song of the day: James - Laid: Violence. Cross dressing. Love it. (not the best version, but it'll do)

Blasphemy/Super Cao Nguyen/Movie Review/ADD/Dumbass

Go directly to Hell. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.

Friday night, I somehow managed to convince L-Ma to come with me (a miracle in itself) to the Hosty Duo at the Deli. And she smiled. And laughed. Success! Then, I embarked on one of those marathon philosophical discussion/arguments sessions with high school friends into the very wee hours of the morning. I'm pretty sure they think I'm totally insane and am going to hell any day now. Being not even what I consider very liberal in a red state is tough going sometimes. I am not crazy, I'm right.

I'm not religious, but there is a Heaven

and it's Super Cao Nguyen! I made the trek Saturday afternoon to the most freaking fantastic Asian market around. Ok, there are probably others, but damn, this one is the shit. Aisle after aisle of unrecognizable sauces, canned vegetables, and oodles of noodles. There was produce that didn't suck. And bok choy that actually looked edible! Homemade potstickers are definitely on the menu tonight. Oh, and I finally got some Sriracha, my culinary savior. Delicious, delicious Sriracha.

Cabbage! Miso paste! Look how high tech!

Ok, Adam, we get it. You're a serious actor.

I saw Reign Over Me. Don Cheadle is pretty good. And that's about it.

What was I saying?

I got some paint. I've got a nightstand that needs updating. I do not have motivation. My sad little project is sitting out in the yard getting rained on.

Sometimes, I am an idiot.

Just sayin'.

It's Friday, I'm in Love

with the idea of getting a tattoo. Now, I'm not sure if I'll ever really go through with it (much like anything in my life, except for for Side Sweeping Bangs 07 and we all know how that turned out), but I do love thinking about it.

1) Is there any establishment in Oklahoma trustworthy enough of my delicate dermis?

2) What to get? Do I go with the ever popular Chinese character? In my case, of course, I would legitimately know what it means (no comments please from Alex or Jared) so I'd have one up on all the other d-bags walking around with them. Ok, I'd have .5 up.

Love?

Or maybe, I should just go for the gold and get a Ying/Yang.

3) Where? I'm leaning toward a nice display like Eve's tiny paw prints on her lovely lady lumps.

But seriously, I'm considering it. I need input.

Food Whore/Third Party Vomit/Throwback Thursday

365 love:

Mr. Shain abandoned me and took off for L.A. this week. Jerk. Or so I thought until he just sent me these glorious photos of my beloved Whole Foods. I'm going to pretend he sent these to make me happy as opposed to taunt me. In either case, I want a pile of olives and mountain of cheese, like right now.

These are for all of us who can no longer be yuppie jerks that shop at Whole Foods out there:

Reminiscing:

My friend had her baby last week (congrats!) and it got me to thinking about how much can change in a year. Somewhere near this time last year, my friends and I decided to throw a we're-starting-to-feel-old-since-we've-been-out-of-college-for-two-years-now party and lugged a keg up to the balcony of our apartment building and commissioned one of the greatest mix cds of all time - each selection approximately one minute long to keep us in line for the dumbest drinking game ever, Power Hour.

[This might have also been the party where we were dressed like "Tennis Pro's and Golf Ho's," but I don't think so (although, who woulda thought I could have forgotten the ex's outfit of see through white cotton shorts?). I think we had a massive game of flip cup that time, because we're mature professionals. I believe that party devolved into someone being crowned Edward 40 Hands (two 40s duct taped to this kid's hands until he finished them) and a semi-nude wrestling match in my front yard, and some weird kids from off the street who heard the music and headed upstairs, but I'm not entirely sure. Actually, I think Puke Fest 06 and Country Club Sluts was the same party.]

Anyhoo, we all gathered around the aforementioned pong table with our game faces on. At minute 23, there's all kinds of high fiving and fuck yeah this is awesome and that sort of thing as we enjoy one minute snippets of Journey and the like. Minute 34 approaches and the girls begin cheating. At minute 42 all hell breaks loose. As a resident of the location where this was all going down, I felt compelled to remain moderately sober and thank god I did. It's like a puke volcano that had been long dormant within the apartment suddenly erupted. Again and again and again. There were not enough vessels around to contain the boot. Boys leaned off the balcony, girls crowded both bathrooms, people who had only met two hours before were holding each others hair back. I ran around from huddle to huddle to see what I could do to help. That's when I saw the ex bf shoving his fingers down the now new mother's throat in an effort to help her out. Now, that is friendship (and a skill I think most boys learn in frats). I emptied our cupboards of glasses and mixing bowls, etc distributing water and boot receptacles to all of those that were still conscious (oh, some weird kids visiting from Maine had stumbled up the street to the closest bar, never to be heard from again and I think one of our friends decided to walk home, so I had to drive around the neighborhood searching for him. I think he made it the few miles back home - in another town, but I'm not sure) - and there weren't many. I put one couple to bed on the couch bed, another on the remaining piece of the sectional and covered everyone I could find with blankets. Margreat and Big T were scheduled to arrive after work, which for them was about midnight. By midnight, the whole building was silent and littered with sleeping drunks.

I awoke to what I thought was rain. I thought to myself this is fantastic, it'll wash the puke off the stairs below the balcony (and everywhere else). But no, it wasn't rain. It was the ex bf standing sans pants in the middle of the bedroom peeing on my tv. I yelled at him to stop. He finally said, oh sorry, then took off the shirt he had on, threw it on the ground, and resumed peeing. Because, you know, that makes sense.

The next morning, I opened the bedroom door hoping that people had managed to find their way home, but the place was still cluttered with sleeping bodies. I step into the living room and into a puddle. Someone fucking pissed in front of the door. After disinfecting my feet, I surveyed the damage in the daylight. It was horrifying. I realized something, I am prepared to clean up my own vom (were it to ever happen, which is never), the spewage of my dog and my future potential, most likely accidental child. But not a whole party's worth. Third party vomit is not ok. So, I moved.

Throwback Thursday

Living in the old bedroom where I spent many an adolescent evening writing award winning* poetry, journal entries, and general wallowing about on my floor lamenting my love life, school life, lack of cool car, etc has made me long for my music of yesterday. Revisit the past with me:

Eurotrash Girl - Cracker
Battle of Who Could Care Less - Ben Folds Five
Santeria - Sublime
Ancient Walls of Flowers - Marcy Playground
Soft Serve - Soul Coughing
Shadow Boxer - Fiona Apple
Italian Leather Sofa - Cake
This Lonely Place - Goldfinger
6th Avenue Heartache - The Wallflowers

*Yes, I am the proud winner of two (2) medals from the Rose State College High School Writing Competition. I will gladly provide you with copies of the award winning poems should you like. Except that I burned them years ago.

Goulet Wednesday News Round Up

• Oh Yoshimi, they don't believe me, but you won't let those robots defeat me. You will, however, let Broadway. Defeat you. [Gawker]
• No duh news of the day: [WWTDD]
• Come on, Paula, who doesn't want to have "sexual activities" with Simon, er "Small Ben." [Page Six]
• $50 says K-Fed is Anna Nicole's babydaddy. [TMZ]
• I feel pretty, I feel pretty, I feel pretty and witty and [IDLYITW]
• I can't believe it's over. Shane and Jo should totally do it. [Best Week Ever]
• We told you so, Katie, I mean Kate. p.s. Suri is still ugly. [The Superficial]
• I was about to throw in the towel, but it turns out true love does exist. [Yeeeah]
• Yayyyyyyy!!!!!! [NY Times]

Thanks Best Week Ever:

The one where I went to a Bishop Allen show

It was good. Really good. Hot as balls in the Opolis, but Brother Bee-Spot, Andrew and I survived. They're performing as a six piece group at the moment and it was quite delightful. They sound like good weather.

Take a listen (then download legally, of course):

Butterfly Nets
Flight 180
Busted Heart
Click Click Click Click

Spring Break 07!!

To kick off Spring Break 07, Mr. Shain and I attended an OU gymnastics meet Saturday night, because that's totally normal. Click here to read all about it.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday

Naive - The Kooks: I don't know, I just like it.
We Used to Vacation - Cold War Kids: I think I like this because instead of bitching about shit, these guys kinda go country and tell a story. Refreshing.

Elephan Gun - Beirut: I know, I know. I am the last person alive to discover Beirut, but I did and I like this song even though it's kinda old news now. It sounds like a hopeful funeral procession.

Time Bomb - The Format: Guess you'll have to download it. Can't find it. Insanely catchy. They're coming to OK with Guster soon (4/3). I suppose I'll go. Anyone wanna come with me?

Rehab - Amy Winehouse: I don't ever want to drink again either. *head throbbing*

Wow, I Can Get Sexual Too - Say Anything: This one's for the MTV loving, 13 year old girl in all of us.

Things Are What You Make of Them - Bishop Allen: In honor of their show at the Opolis tonight.

That's all for now.

You Know You're a Redneck if...

Last night, my friend Matt and I went to see our friend's band at a bar in Oklahoma City. I am all about supporting the little guy in the cut throat world of music. That said, I will not be supporting this band if they ever EVER return to this venue. Unless I have a bodyguard and a hazmat suit.

I think somehow, as we drove along I-35, we stumbled upon a wormhole that led us into an alternate redneck universe. I'm from Oklahoma and I've never seen anything like this. Sweet Jesus. We entered and gave our money ($5!?) to a tiny toothless man wearing an over-sized, stained t-shirt with acid washed Levi's. If jockey were a reasonable occupation for a redneck, he'd have been more than qualified. Upon first glance, it became evident that this bar (called simultaneously Touche and Trust Me Too - still in the process of management change) was a former strip club. The pole remained on the mirror encased "stage" and I'm pretty sure a few of the old "dancers" were still hanging around. The bar consisted of some formerly dancing ladies pulling Budweiser out of coolers for I don't know how much, I imagine $.50 or something - I was not about to let anything go near my mouth in this place. You could also drink Mountain Dew, patron beverage of the NASCAR set. We hightailed it out the back door to hang out with the band before their set began. While outside, a man stumbled to his car and announced not to worry, he was just searching for some pills. ?! A woman entered our circle of safety we had created in the parking lot ranting and raving so incoherently it made the late Anna Nicole sound like Bill Clinton.

Back inside, the band began setting up and my eyes began wandering. If C-section scars and perms were contagious, I'd have both. I saw a mullet like no other -beautifully long and curly. The uniform of this group seemed to consist of large t-shirts tucked into very high waisted jeans - not a good look for anyone. I'd had about 20 glasses of water plus wine at dinner, so there was no way I was getting out of peeing. I considered running across the highway to the KFC on the other side, but I decided I was safer inside than out. Finally, I sucked it up and headed toward the ladies room. Thank God for Bikram yoga. Awkward pose saved my life, or at least my lady parts.

I wish some sort of fight would've broken out, but alas, nothing exciting happened. I think because we were all sober out of fear. We took our seats and were treated to a pretty rocking show. I gotta give it to them, they were a very supportive audience. And then we left. Quickly.

Happy St. Patrick's Day! You know where I'll be. At the bar, with my parents! Woohoo!

It's Friday, I'm in Love

with the Boylan Bottling Company.

I drink a lot of seltzer. I mean a lot. More than anyone should. What can I say? Nothing. Unfortunately, Big Move 07 has thrown a wrench into my seltzer consumption as it appears that no one in this state drinks the stuff (there's sparkling water, but we all know that's shit). I have to go to specialty shops to find it. Fortunately, Forward Foods has arrived on the scene in good ol' Norman and stocks some of the Whole Foods stuff I've become entirely too dependent on. So, go try it, where ever you live, if you haven't already. It's the best seltzer out there, hands down. Every sip is kinda like getting punched in the face by a cute little girl. It stings, but sweetly.

Dinner with the G-'rents Part II:

So, this evening, I had another opportunity to dine with the aforementioned g-rents. This time, Macaroni Grill was chosen as our meeting place. Good thing too, because we sure as shit wouldn't fit into an Olive Garden family friendly setting. Everyone always has such a great time there! If you eat off of my brother's plate, he will knife you with a shiv made from a crouton. Things got off to a good start, this time, I think because we were missing my female roommate (who is now screaming uncontrollably at the TV because Duke is beating BC. Yes, friends, it's that time of year. March Sadness.) Highlights from this meal include, but are not limited to:

1. G-pa draws (oh yeah, this is one of those classy places where you get crayons and can draw on the paper covering the table. Would you like freshly ground pepper on that? Yes.) two stick figures with their hands touching a circle with a small dot in the middle. What's that? asks Brother Bee-Spot. Two men walking abreast, replies G-pa.

2. Conversation turns to American Idol where Grandma Bee-Spot declares Taylor Hicks a bit "light in the loafers" and remembers Ruben Studdard as "the black one."

3. G-pa draws two fours that intersect too closely resembling a swastika (search terms are going to go nuts, I might have to remove that).

4. Brother Bee-Spot orders veal. He wonders why it's taking so long. G-pa answers, they're bottle feeding it its last meal in the back.

5. Brother Bee-Spot then orders cheesecake for dessert. G-pa says, Not to dissuade you, but cheese is not cake.

6. I keep my mouth shut (except to instruct roommate#1 to give his credit card to the waiter before either grandparent notices to thwart any haggling and a potential wrestling match between an elderly man and his rather portly son) and draw toasters, as I am apt to do.

7. Now back to last week's bottle of wine.

Elvis Perkins makes me want to love again, or,

I went to a show last night! At the Gypsy Tea Room in Dallas, Texas. Never been there before, so I didn't really know what to expect. Also, I kinda crapped out and had no idea who was playing besides my beloved Andrew Bird until Beau picked me up (THANKS!!!) and mentioned that Delta Spirit, Elvis Perkins, Tokyo Police Club and Cold War Kids were all playing as well. Score. (P.S. all of these guys are playing at Pearl Street in Noho toward the end of March/early April. Get your ass there. You'll be happy you did).

Delta Spirit: They kinda reminded me of bands I saw at Dartmouth frats, but much, much better. The singer sang so hard I thought he was going to bust his vocal chords into a bloody mess all over the stage. I was impressed, but imagine he needed some tea with honey and lemon afterward. Some kid played a trash can lid. Gotta love it.

Elvis Perkins: He's just really good. Melancholy. Complicated. Band includes a string bass (I have a soft spot for that). I'm teaching myself to play Night Without Love on guitar. It hasn't been going well.

Listen: While You Were Sleeping

Tokyo Police Club: The thing about the GTR is that there are two stages, one large, one smaller. TPC was playing in the smaller room and it was really crowded. We managed to squeeze in for a bit, but kept getting yelled at and shoved around. I ended up being smashed into this girl in front of me who turned around and said, "you know, if I were a guy, I'd be totally turned on right now." That pretty much made my night. TPC was kinda frantic, but in a good way.



Cold War Kids: For some reason, although I like Hang Me Up To Dry, I was expecting to dislike this band, however, they were pretty rockin'. One of their numbers called for members of the other groups (aside from Andrew Bird - I guess he's too good for them or something) to play along. The bassist from Elvis Perkins busted out a sax while the other guy in that band brought out his trombone. That automatically equals awesome.



Andrew Bird: I simply cannot say enough good shit about this guy. As you now might know, I am the product of two (professional, but now in education) musicians and have a keen ear, even if I have no talent myself. It's a mystery, really. He's absolutely amazing. If you've seen him before, you know what I mean, and he's only gotten better. He sings my dreams. I want to have like 10,000 of his babies.



I was in heaven. Until I realized Beau and I still had to drive back leaving Dallas at 12.30 putting us back in Norman around, oh, 4.30 due to some fog and wrong turns. Awesome! But you know what, still totally freaking awesome.

Oh. Also, I have decided that I'm sorta into hipster/emo/rocker boys. Threadbare t-shirt? Check. Plaid western shirt (with snaps)? Yes please. Converse or equivalent? Yup. Scruffy beard? Sign me up. Emo glasses? Why not. Think you can play an instrument? I'll buy it. Expertly tousled hair? Ok. Drink more Stella or Pabst than me? Probably not, but I'll take it. Where are you?

Goulet Wednesday News Round Up: This American Blythe

Today, in lieu of completely boring celebrity news, I bring you completely boring Blythebrity news.

1. This American Life finally comes to TV! Yay! I've been hearing about this for some time, but my favorite Sunday night pastime (besides going to bed early) is coming to Showtime. Thankfully, the roommates spring for this channel, so I'll be watching weekly. Showtime put the first episode up on On Demand and let me tell you, I am more in love with Ira Glass than ever. He does the story about Chance the bull and the Improv Everywhere band fiasco. Two of my favorites. Yes, I have them memorized. That's how I roll. I will marry you, Ira Glass, I will.



2. I'm going to see Andrew Bird today! Yay! In Dallas, but whatevs. It's worth it. If you are new to AB, I suggest Sovay, Measuring Cups, Nervous Tic Motion of the Head to the Left and Fake Palindromes. A little FYI - Sovay is my favorite.

3. It's spring! Yesterday, it was about 80. Supposed to be even warmer today. There are at least climatic (is that a word?) benefits to returning to the Heartland. The lil' bro and I had a mid evening bonding sesh over Classis 50s slushes (strawberry pina colada) and swings at my favorite park. Then we drove around the in the country with all the windows rolled down screaming Dream Weaver at the top of our lungs against a breathtaking sunset. Almost made me forget I've given up Whole Foods for this.

Look! Green instead of brown! I love it! (Ignore unpedicured toes.)

4. PSA: I recently discovered that there are people out there who haven't seen Wet Hot American Summer. I implore you, put it on your on your Netflix queue today. You'll thank me later.

5. I love you.

Zack Harrison Music Monday

Friday I was not in love with anything except being cranky, hence the non-post. This weekend, however, turned out to be all right. I ate my weight in Mexican food Friday night (sexy, huh?) and grabbed a drink with a couple of friends. Hung out at the regional high school debate tournament on Saturday for 12 hours (thanks Mr. Shain) then went to a party that got busted by the cops a la college. Recovered from said party Sunday and went to hear my new favorite thing at my new favorite place last night. All in all, not too shabby, I suppose, if you have no expectations. My point is, over the course of this weekend, Zack Harrison came up not once, but twice! This is a kid I knew in high school. Well, one year of high school. He was a senior when I was a sophomore. In any case, I don't know how, but somehow we became friends of a sort. Basically, he convinced me to debate, took me to parties, and made me mix tapes. I'm not gonna lie, he made some pretty, pretty, pretty good mix tapes. He is the reason I still include Fallin' (De La Soul and Teenage Fan Club), Message to You (The Specials), Boys Don't Cry (The Cure), Sometimes I Rhyme Slow (Nice n' Smooth), and Get It Together (Beastie Boys) on almost every compilation CD/playlist I make you. Prior to him, I mainly listened to top 40 shit, classical music and the Beatles, because that's what my parents listened to. In his honor, or memory, haven't seen or heard of him in like, eight years, I present to you:

Zack Harrison Music Monday

*I would work harder to provide links if I had any motivation or hope that any of you actually heed my musical advice. Also, not all of these are new. Gotta mix it up.

My Ho Drives a Big Red Car - Heater: (This is where Zack Harrison comes in for the third time. Last night, I'm at The Deli listening to Mike Hosty and he plays this. I have this on some random CD that I had in high school, I think. Weird. I know all of the words. I can see the cd. It's got a tire on it. It says Heater. Why is Mike Hosty playing a Heater son? Who is Heater anyway? Then I put it all together. Zack gave me a bunch of cds, which I apparently never gave back, one of them being Heater. Mike Hosty was in Heater. I have liked him all this time!)

Decatur or Round of Applause for Your Step-Mother! - Sufjan Stevens: I'm just in love with Mr. Stevens. Anything he does is magic, for me. I can't wait till he comes out with Oklahoma!

She Doesn't Get It - The Format: This sounds like high school.

Golden Skans - Klaxons: I would listen to this while planning a trip to outer space.

Nature of the Expirement - Tokyo Police Club: If you are Canadian, I automatically like you, apparently.

Sweet Jane - Cowboy Junkies: Sorry Lou, bit this version is way better. I am slow dancing with myself right now.

Bright Eyes double play: Four Winds - this is the new one. As a former violinist, I inherently like it. Also, it's really good. At the Bottom of Everything: who doesn't love songs that start with plane crashes? Oh Bright Eyes...

Penny on the Train Track - Ben Kweller: This falls under my rule of liking all Bens (Gibbard, Lee, Folds, Franklin).

Polar Opposites - Modest Mouse: Everyone's all over Dashboard these days, but I don't get it. I don't like any new MM stuff. This one's a classic.

If I Ever Feel Better - Phoenix: Mr. Shain had a lovely assemblage of Phoenix playing on our ride to the tournament this weekend. I have decided that this is my favorite one. Also, it's my current internal theme song.

Flathead - The Fratellis: If this isn't already in an ipod commercial, it should be. I think it is. Isn't it? Eh, whatever. Poppish, but catchy.

When You Wasn't Famous - The Streets: British white rapper? Yes please.

Dinner with the G-'rents

Tonight my roommates and I met their former roommates (or roommates in law) in Oklahoma City for dinner. My g-pa is a dentist and sometimes travels to the city (from far western OK) for continuing ed classes, which I cannot begin to imagine since he just learned how to program their VCR last year (actually, did anyone learn that or did we just skip over to DVDs?). We met them at Steak & Ale, a fine dining establishment with which all of you in OK are surely familiar. By fine dining establishment I of course mean it sucks. No offense, but this state doesn't do too well in what it thinks is the upscale dining department. I've only been to a couple of restaurants in the city that even remotely come close to what the rest of the country considers classy and I think I was always paying, so I didn't enjoy myself much, but who the hell cares, there's chicken fried steak here. Anyway, my grandparents are great in many, many ways. However, they're also a bit, well, here are some highlights from the evening:

-Roommate#1 was running late due to a meeting and called me so that I could read him the ENTIRE menu and we could order for him. G-pa did not like this and kept yelling fake menu items into my phone. You have not lived until you've had to scream "8oz prime rib for $16.99" twelve times into your cell with an angry room full of diners. Roomful?

-G-pa is wearing a diamond encrusted gold pinky ring. I am now convinced he is connected. He is a Mason, after all.

-Brother bee-spot casually mentions that our harried server has forgotten to bring the bread. "Tell him when he comes back," says G-pa. "No, I'll just wait till he gets to it, he looks busy," says BB. "You'd have been dead if you were a Jew in Germany* with that attitude." WHAT?!

-My roommate and his mother are trying to think of an old schoolmate's name. Begins with an H... "Heather?" says G-ma. "Helen?" says roommate#1. "Hitler?*" yells out G-pa.

-Said harried server was trying his best, he really was. G-ma asks him if they're shorthanded. He says that a lot of people quit this week. She says, maybe it's your disposition.

-G-pa insisted on giving the server a wad of cash (I think he's the type that doesn't trust banks - he used to give my brother and I hundreds of dollars in rolled quarters) at the beginning of the meal to prevent, oh hell, Dad, from paying the tab. Unfortunately, he underestimated and had to throw a bit more in, which became a bit awkward. Especially when G-ma had to loudly whisper to the poor, embattled server to make sure he was tipped enough.

-Needless to say, Brother bee-spot and I stopped off at the liquor store on the way home.

*My g-pa was certainly not in WWII. In fact, I think he was born in the mid 30's, which puts him in his early adolescence at best. I have no idea what his deal is, although, G-ma said he wanted The Dirty Dozen for his b-day.

--------- of the day.

Admission of the day: I love musicals! My class watched Oliver! today and I totally geeked out and sang along with every song. Yeah, I know them all. Every word. I also know all of The Sound of Music, Mary Poppins, Annie, My Fair Lady and the list goes on and on. And yes, I do listen to the broadway channel on cable radio. And I love it.

Seinfeldian thought of the day: How do they (shoemaking elves, of course) come up with names for shoes? I was perusing Zappos.com trying to find a nice pair of springish flats that I won't buy because I have no money and suddenly realized that every pair has a dumbass name. They're all names I would imagine to exist in some super yuppy Montessori preschool class where all of the parents drive Audi station wagons and shop at Whole Foods. Any industry insiders out there that can confirm shoes are named after J. Crew executives' kids?

"Phoebe" - J. Crew Spring collection. The price is as pretentious as the bow. I must have them.

Diesel's "Obi." "Luke," "Leia," and "Darth" not pictured.


My namesake. "Blythe" by J. Crew. Sorry kids, these sold out last year.

Question of the day: What do the lyrics to the White Stripes "Hello Operator" mean? Telemarketing gone bad?

Hello operator
can you give me number nine?
can I see you later?
will you give me back my dime?
turn the oscillator
twist it with a dollar bill
mail man bring the paper
leave it on my window sill

find a canary
a bird to bring my message home
carry my obituary
my coffin doesn't have a phone
how you gonna get the money?
send papers to an empty home?
how you gonna get the money?
nobody to answer the phone

Regret of the day: I wish I'd lost my virginity to anything other than Dave Matthews Band. I can never change that. I totally should have waited till John Mayer was around or something. Lord knows my body is a wonderland.

Blog of the day: An Irish and a Jew. Found this through ZFS. Enjoy. (AIAAJ, if you stumble upon this link, expect your readership to soar by probably 1, maybe 1.5. No need to thank me.)

Realization of the day: Were I, God forbid, to be the victim of a homicide or some other incident involving foul play, and CSI were to swoop in and go through all of my stuff, including my wastebasket, they would have found this:

Home sweet home.

Song/video of the day: Alright!

Goulet Wednesday News Round Up

Here it is, friends. Actually, does anyone read this? I do it for all of you that, you know, have lives and shit, but still want to keep up with the important stuff. What can I say, I'm a giver.

In no particular order:

• She's no Britney, but still. Lay off Lohan. [WWTDD]
• Oh really? Good for you, Jakester - as long as our mutual friend Chris is still single, that is. [ICYDK]
• Stabler will totally fuck you up, Jones. Watch out. Law and Order. More like Slaw and Chowder. Heh. (the worst joke ever, I know) [Jossip]
• My second husband (after Ira Glass, of course). [A.V. Club]

I love you.

• Jeez people. Also, I'd like to point out that if you consider homely exotic, in substantial student loan debt poverty and Oklahoma a third world locale, then I am totally up for adoption. [Just Jared]
• You're fucking with me, right? [Defamer]
• Damn, everyone hates my half-sized doppleganger. Wha'd she do that's so awful? [dlisted]
• Simpson's movie: yay! Aqua Teen: awesome! TMNT: fuck yeah!
• Whatever Columbia kids. Two things: 1) Smith is just as good, except not. 2) Uh, hello, he's a doctor and he's totally saved a ton of people on the island. 3) He's hot. [Gawker]

Super Fantastic Stuff That's Rumbling Around My Head Post!

Updates:

1. I have decided that I do think Sarah Silverman (and her program) is funny.

2. I also decided on off-white Chuck Taylors. And I love them. That said, I am done participating in trends because of my mullet situation (aka Side Sweeping Bangs 07). I threw out my super dark nail polish. I am not downloading the the new Arcade Fire album. I broke all of my wide headbands.

3. I have not played WOW since my initial experience. I would like to, but it just takes so much damn time and I have so many super important things I gotta do - read complain about shit.

4. I checked Sitemeter for search words. Someone else looked for NPR lawyer Wyclef Jean.

School Dayz:

Today a kid asked me why my toes were so fat. I asked why his face was so ugly.

A girl came up to me and asked what happened. What happened to what? I asked. That picture your mom has of you in her office is really pretty, she says. You're going to end up pregnant by next year, I think.

www.iamsoold.com:

Tonight my brother (18) had the audacity to ask me what the Running Man was. WHAT?! I suppose he doesn't know what the Roger Rabbit is either. Kids these days.

I cannot get enough of this guy:

I bought Multiply by Jamie Lidell. Probably the first CD I've purchased in literally years. [Incidentally, while cleaning out my closet this weekend (Yeah, that's what I did. wanna make something of it?) I found the very first CD I ever owned: Mariah Carey. And I played it. And it was as awesome as I remember.] Anyhoo, it's the shit. He's really good in so many ways. Hopefully that vague description will persuade you to check him out. It's worth it. Really, I can't say enough good shit about this guy. I also got The Garden by Zero 7, because I am a sucker. It's been out for a while, but it's good blogging music. Did I really just say that?

Song stuck in my head:

Alloveragain - Tahiti 80.

I am almost illiterate:

I have not read a real (i.e. something other than Robert B. Parker or Nora Roberts - not that there's anything wrong with that) book in about a month. My brain is atrophying at an even more alarming rate than what has become normal considering the cheapness of drinks here in the Sooner State. I picked up Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke this evening. I like to read NYT's bestsellers years later. I'll let you know. Bee-spot book club all the way.

I don't think this is for real, but humorous nevertheless:

It's funny 'cause it's true

Some of you might turn to The New York Times, WSJ, CNN, MSNBC or even Fox for your news. I turn to Best Week Ever (with a little Gawker thrown in here and there, or every 3 minutes). I missed Family Guy last night, but, as usual, BWE was there to pick up the slack. Holy balls is this distasteful, but effing hilarious! Enjoy.

Mobile home, mobile home, let me in!

While some of you associate March with March Madness (and I will enter a pool and lose dreadfully, yes, yes I will) I associate it with the premature (and morbidly exciting) beginnings of tornado season. Tornado Season is not entirely unlike Shark Week - a lot of hype about crazy, stupid shit that seems interesting on TV, but sucks ass in real life.

Tonight, I went to the most fabulous bar in Norman selling Bud Light out of giant red plastic cups for $2.25 called The Deli. Mike Hosty plays The Deli most every Sunday serenading the crowd with the aforementioned "Oklahoma Breakdown" and other classics including "Fraidy Hole" (referring to a basement or other cellar like structure one would utilize in the event of a cyclone) and "Fried Pie" (a deep fried pastry which one would utilize in a desperate moment of hunger, most likely preceded by copious amounts of booze and/or weed). Now, if you were not born and bred in Oklahoma, which I had the mis good fortune of, then some of the sentiments of these songs will fall on your deaf, deaf ears. But if you were, well, then, you should get your ass out to The Deli asap to listen to the troubador of the prairie sing the praises (or not) of our very own beloved weathermen Gary England and Mike Morgan. You know who I'm talkin' 'bout.

The best part of this night was when I was tabbing out and the bartender sought me out to tell me that he loves my dad. In fact, my dad inspired him to follow a career in music (detour of bartending? I dunno, shit happens, right?) and that I should bring him in 'cause drinks are on him. I was just thinking earlier in the night as I looked around the bar full of young men that I needed a wingwoman, but perhaps, I need a wingdad... ah, small towns, small towns...

I am never having sex again, am I. Am I?

Panties/Waffle House/Cathouse: The Series/Music

I could hide out under there. I just made you say "under where."

I also just quoted Bare Naked Ladies lyrics. I apologize. So, as a semi newly single lady who's been out of circulation for quite some time, I'm learning new things all the time. Like, I have couples underwear syndrome. I have never been into flashy/trashy/sexy underwear. (I can't seem to utter "panties." It's just too much. Similar to the word "moist." Can't do it.) I'm generally into whatever's clean, basically covers my ass and is less than $3. I have this thing about paying more than that. It's underwear, for Christ sake. La Perla? Ladon't think so. Agent Provocateur? Agent Provocano. I think, while you're paired up, cheap, basic underwear isn't such a big deal (although, perhaps I'm completely wrong. Maybe, someday, when the ex and I acknowledge our mutual existence, I will ask him. But probably not.) However, after however many months it's been, I think maybe I should start paying attention to my undergarments. Plus, you never know when there's going to be some sort of medical emergency which requires the ER to strip you down. And of course, that day, Discovery Health will be filming some sort of ER documentary. I went to Victoria's Secret [There are two kinds of people in this world. One who knows it's Victoria's Secret. One who says Victoria's Secrets.] to check out the skivvy scene and was appalled at what I encountered. I am not old. I am not completely uncool (no comments please), but I was seriously disturbed by the overabundance of pink adorning every possibly surface. I then learned that "Pink" is their product line that seems to be aimed at, what must be, a huge sorostitute population. Pink was emblazoned on the ass of everything. There was neon green lace. I can't really write about it, I can only make a sound that goes sorta like this: blerchbluhglarbah. Needless to say, I hightailed it out of there and made L-Ma go to Ross with me to pick out some dollar bargains. So, I guess what I'm asking is, do I really have to make an effort in the underwear department or are boys just happy enough to take them off?

Affle House:

Went to the Waffle House late Friday night/Saturday morning. It's one of my favorite things to do and was greatly missed while I was in the Northeast. For the longest time, the Waffle House closest to my house had it's W light out rendering it "AFFLE HOUSE." Always makes me smile when I think about it.

No waffles in this house:

One of the many only benefits of my roommates is their addiction to TV. They have 800 million channels. It's pretty sweet. This means that I can watch HBO's Cathouse: The Series anytime I want. Most of the time, I don't want to. Sometimes, though, I catch a glimpse of Airforce Amy's hair (I don't even know what era it comes from) and I'm hooked for the next few minutes. Bottom line, most of these chicks are busted, but are getting paid ridiculous amounts of money for something I'd turn down for free. Even I have my standards. These ladies go in the I Just Don't Get It column along with Dane Cook, American Apparel, and Arcade Fire.

Airforce Amy is in the middle. Yowzer!

Music:

Below, you will find my current playlist. Good? Bad? What should I be listening to?

Ruby - Kaiser Chiefs
Province - TV On the Radio
Grace Kelly - Mika
Montreal-40ºC - Malajube
Watercolors - The Postmarks
California Stars - Wilco & Billy Bragg
Sister Sneaker Sister Soul - My Latest Novel
Sunday Morning - K-OS
Suffer for Fashion - Of Montreal
Words You Used to Say - Dean & Britta
Save Room - John Legend
Objects of My Affection - Peter Bjorn and John
Babies - Pulp
Lazy Eye - Silversun Pickups
All the Night Without Love - Elvis Perkins
Hang Me Up to Dry - Cold War Kids
The Queen and I - Gym Class Heroes

I would try to find MP3's MySpace pages, etc, but I am lazy. If you know me and you're interested, I'll burn you a cd.

It's Friday, I'm in Love

with hating on shit. Don't know what's up with me, but I am in a super pissy funk.

Got a Devil's Haircut on my head:

L-Ma says it's sophisticated. I say it's crap. It's essentially a $70 mullet (speaking of mullets, I saw a rat tail - remember those! - on a kid today that was, I shit you not, about 2.5 feet long. I had my camera with me, as always, but I wasn't quick enough to think of a reason for why I would need to take a photo of a 12 year old boy...). I feel like I should be anchoring the local 5 am weekend newscast. For some reason, I thought I was one of those people who could have sweeping side bangs. Ladies, you know what I'm talking about. Much like the Perm Incident of 1993, Side Sweeping Bangs 07 is a bust.

I actually like that stupid Gwen Stefani "Sweet Escape" song:
Everytime I hear it, which, when you are surrounded by 13 year olds is a lot, I rock out in my head. I hate myself for it immediately afterward. Much like everything else I do.

I fucking can't stand it when bad grammar is used in educational environments:

Ok, yes, everyone uses incorrect grammar sometimes. Some more than others, myself included (please don't read post after post commenting on this - although, that would be the most anyone has ever read), but I am not a certified teacher shaping the minds of our youth. I am merely a tween wrangler whose purpose is mainly to prevent fights and copulation during school hours. I came across this poster the other day. It's plastered all over the freaking school. During lunch, I hunted down every instance I could find and covered the offensive error with "they're" post-its. Not only did the creator of this poster fuck up, but the people who printed it clearly don't speak English. I am choosing to forgo commenting on any other aspects of this poster.



Why won't Al Gore just throw his hat in the fucking ring already? Also, why can't I fucking work my stupid fucking digital camera like a normal person?

Thursday, things were looking up when I went with Mother and Brother Bee-Spot to see Mr. Vice President himself present his An Inconvenient Truth slide show at OU. According to David Boren, OU's president, attendance was record breaking at over 7,000 people! I'm fairly certain that's the total number of Democrats in the whole state. Still, it was nice to be surrounded by political peers. I took a shitload of pictures, although, I guess I wasn't supposed to, anyway, they all turned out shitty. I have this super camera (given to me by the ex BF in penance for a quite terrible transgression, but hey, I have a super fancy camera now and he probably has an STD), but I can't work it for shit. Here's what I got:

Why? You'd win. Just do it.

This is our view because Mr. Shain crapped out in the seat saving department.

This is Mother Bee-Spot. I include her because I hate that she is skinnier than me and it is hate filled Friday!

The hangover I will surely have tomorrow:

I'm now off to get ready for a party. I am hating the hangover in advance.