It's Friday, I'm in Love

Dear Claire,

You are, in spite of being totally neurotic and possibly part dingo, the best dog in the world. We've had probably the most continuously successfully relationship these past seven years that I've ever had. Yeah, you eat your own puke, but you're also eternally excited to see me when I return from a trip to the grocery store (to buy diet coke and stupid girl magazines, most likely) or from being away for an entire semester. Much to my relief, you have aged beautifully and healthily. This was confirmed by the vet a few weeks ago - the best teeth she's seen in years! That's my girl. You whimper and squeal with excitement like a puppy even when I'm just putting my socks on, in anticipation of a walk. Your enthusiasm is simultaneously annoying, ear drum busting and totally endearing. You seek me out during thunderstorms or when someone's vacuuming because I assume you're scared, which is weird, but I like it. You have bat ears. You are them most aesthetically pleasing mutt I've yet to encounter. You have horrible manners. You refuse to eat vegetables or grains unless they're doused in butter or cheese. You could be a professional watch dog. For better or worse, our evening walks are often the highlight of my day. You have a white diamond shaped patch of fur right in the center of your forehead. You always wedge yourself between me and whoever might be on my bed (mostly Lacey, and we're watching Project Runway or A Shot at Love with Tila Tecrappo). I will be forever grateful that I summoned some figurative balls and lied to my parents about finding you on the side of the road in Noble, Oklahoma (we both know I really picked you out from a pile of wriggling puppies caked in red dirt at a farm with a Jolly Green Giant Statue on the front lawn) when I brought you home as an eight week old puppy New Years Day 2000. Your head is laying on my knee right at this moment. I can feel you breathing through my jeans. You melt my heart on a daily basis. It might be silly, but I love you.

Almost famous, except not at all.

Do you ever have one of those days where you got inebriated Saturday night, passed out face down on your bed, drooled like LiLo and Hooch (or was it Turner?) combined and gave yourself a zit that's keeping you from social engagements so you're at your computer (with Proactiv goo all over your face) and you decide to check Technorati to see if anyone's noticed that you have a blog then you find out that a couple people have? That just happened to me! I am 1/1,583,921.24 of the way on my way to being famous/infamous/not famous!

Dear Shain, if you ever do anything like this again, I will tell everyone your big secret. YOU LOVE OKLAHOMA!

Cajun Boy in the City - Make.It.Stop.

Dear Lost Ogles, you guys are my favorites. Especially Patrick.

The Lost Ogle - All I Want For Christmas

This might seem conceited. To which I say, hi, do we know each other? Also, this might be the most recognition I ever get until I'm arrested for stalking Ira Glass.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Trumpet Triumph

Perhaps it is because my father is a trumpeter who raised me on a steady diet of Miles Davis and Blood, Sweat and Tears, but regardless of the cause, I do love a smidgen of trumpet in my music. Behold what I have found to be songs with delicious trumpet bits - some old, some new, most things I've forgotten or left out. Help!

Short Skirt Long Jacket - Cake: Now, there are several Cake songs that would qualify. In fact, maybe all of them. Perhaps this is why Cake is so dear to me.

Elephant Gun - Beirut: Dude, this kid's for real.

Does Anybody Really Kow What Time It Is? - Chicago: No.

Message to You - The Specials: Summer! Except it's winter.

Your Place - Zero 7: Hang in there till the end.

So What - Miles Davis: It simply does not get any better than this.

Move On Up - Curtis Mayfield: Good for dancing like an ass in cold garages.

The Underdog - Spoon: I'm contractually obligated to suggest a Spoon song every four posts.

While You Were Sleeping - Elvis Perkins: It's at the end. Comforting, somehow.

Fly Me To The Moon - Frank Sinatra: I've already talked about this one before, I think.

Spinning Wheel - Blood, Sweat and Tears: Holy baby Jesus! I'm having a personal Chicago and BS&T revival.

All You Need Is Love - The Beatles: Again, a few to choose from, but I like this best.

The Wrong Girl - Belle & Sebastian: I really love them more and more daily.

Alone Again Or - Love: I once knew this kid/man who thought he was Arthur Lee. He was pretty damn close.

The Henney Buggy Band - Sufjan Stevens: Marching band!

Grazing in the Grass - Hugh Masekela: I wish I had a convertible.

When It Don't Come Easy - Patty Griffin: Ouch. My heart.

Holy balls,

I might possibly have the worst hangover of my long and storied history of hangovers (How did I sustain this hangover? Two words. Beer pong. And also bars. And peer pressure. And dancing around in a garage to Curtis Mayfield.). Not even McDonald's (my disgusting hangover remedy, whatevs, you do it too) has helped, in fact, I think it hurt. Definitely hurt. All I have managed to do today is smear last night's mascara all over my pillows, give my self a rash from drooling during intermittent and involuntary naps while watching Planet Earth in a whimpering pile buried beneath my comforter trying not to vom. But you know what? It can't feel as bad KU must feel about now. Or OSU for that matter. Gundy, I thought you were a "man." And Mangina, looks like your easy ass schedule finally caught up with you. We will beat you, Mizzou, and then we're on our way to the Preparation H Fidelity Nabisco Taco Cabana FedEx/Kinkos Diet Coke with Lemon Halliburton Bowl! Which is not the championship, but oh well.

Cringesday: Thanksgiving Edition.

It still looks like this. Sad.

Hey folks. It's that time again (Wednesday, or when I feel like "writing" a post). I think I'm the only person working today. But that's cool. I get paid a lot. Except not at all. While you are battling O'Hare, JFK, I-95 or I-35 and the like, I am all warm and cozy, basking in the glow of my computer screen, preparing myself for the big day. Which will occur tomorrow afternoon at 3pm and, yes, at the south side Steak & Ale with Mom, Dad, Dad's parents (my grandparents) and my mom's brother. My brother is working. Nice one. Assface. And yes, these grandparents - so it's sure to be a riot. Or actually cause a racially motivated riot. Either way, I get prime rib and a baked potato for Thanksgiving. Save me. Adopt me.

In which this blog is not unlike the Sooners: A post in three or some number of parts.

Act I: The season started out so promising. We had a little bit of trouble with a little bit of Colorado. But then, good news! Everyone started sucking balls! Now, including us. WTF, man. Sam! Halzle! Jesus Christ on a stick. Or whatever. I can't even talk about it. Really, I can't. Except, WTF are we paying you for, Stoops? To lose to effing Texas Tech? I don't think so. Kansas, ok, maybe because, ostensibly, they are as good as we are. Tech?!?@$*(@ You might have led us to a championship, but you've also presided over some of our worst losses. Nut up, dude. De-red shirt someone. Ask someone from the crowd to be the quarterback - like the guy who throws it through the target to win $1000 from Jason White's dealership. I can't wait to lose to OSU this week. If you don't hear from me by Wednesday of next week... A malaise fell over Norman Saturday night that not even $2.50 Shiners could and L's dad's Grateful Dead (The Jamminators!) cover band could cure. Oh, how the mighty will fall. Like this blog. One minute I'm nominted for an Oklahoma Blogger award™, the next, Sitemeter reveals that only five people read. And by people I mean Google searches for "Zach Braff's tight pants."

Part II: I can't believe I forgot to mention this! Last weekend, I left my neighborhood at about 7 to grab coffee at Starfucks before Shain and I headed of to judge a high school debate tourney (suck it). I should mention, it was exceptionally foggy this morning. Like, can't see anything. I approach the intersection where I need to make a right. I have a green light. As I'm gently nudging the gas, suddenly, this bike flies across through the intersection causing me to slam on my brakes (I wasn't going that fast, but still) and I come eye to eye with - guess! Wait for it, the exbf's mom! I almost ran her over! Ha! I mean, oops.

C) I have a habit of singing in the bathroom at work because, well, the acoustics are fucking fantastic in there. The lighting makes me look like old school Courtney Love, but the tiles make me sound like Kelly Clarkson. I wasn't really aware that my voice carried beyond the bathroom till I walked out and was greeted by a coworker who suggested, humorously, I choose to believe, that I save it for karaoke night. I'll show you karaoke.

4: Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday! - This is my latest commute mix.

Oh My God - Mark Ronson and Lily Allen: Oh my God I can't believe I like this song.
A Baby For Pree - Neutral Milk Hotel: What does it even mean?
The Anglo-Saxons - The Mountain Goats: Remember that cartoon show about history? I can't remember the name, but it was pretty much awesome.
I'd Love You - Sonya Kitchell: I would.
Superstar - Lupe Fiasco: I am.
Scattered Leaves - The Be Good Tanyas: This chick sounds like Shakira. But I like it anyway.
Mornington Crescent - Belle & Sebastian: This one's for you, Shain. Thanks for abandoning me. No, really.
The Temptation of Adam - Josh Ritter: Seriously! Why am I just getting into this guy now?
Blue Eleanor - Old Canes: I dunno. Just like it.
Needles in My Eyes - Beta Band: Puts me in a happy trance.
Oh Lately It's So Quiet - Ok Go: These guys are more than just a treadmill dance troupe.
Arcade Precinct - 1990s: What? Yeah, it's kind of awful.
Mansard Root - Vampire Weekend: Surprise! I'm in love with this! And they're coming to Norman!
Hold On - KT Tunstall: Yes. This has been or will be used in a comical montage featuring McDreamy, George, Izzie, and/or Addison. Blow me.

Section 5.1.3: The WGA and corporate TV America have got us by the balls. And we are letting them. Did you know that The Office is probably over for the season? The last new episode aired last week. Scrubs might not finish the series (Will JD and Elliot end up together? Will we ever meet Kelso's Edith? I just have to know!). And so on and so on with shows from Comedy Central to the CW. And we are letting them. So, I propose a strike against TV in general. Fuck them! We can read! Knit! Ride bikes! Smoke weed and look at fish tanks! Poetry readings! Concerts! Shows! Blogs! TV? We don't need no stinkin' TV. I'm totally serious. Until The Real Housewives of Orange Cunty are on. I love that show.

Act VI: Happy Birthday Mom! You said you don't read, but I know you do. I'm glad you were born so you could bear me.

Reason number 198.3 why I hate U2

Today, at work, I was listening to www.wrsi.com (The River - adult alternative, like me) and they played a (fucking) U2 song. Now, don't get me wrong, Bono Nobel Peace Prize Hungry Edge Children In Africa Bill Live Aid Clinton Nuclear Proliferation Cowboy Hat Sunglasses and all that stuff, dude. "Uno, dos, uno-dos-tres-catorce!" Seriously.*


*I can only imagine that there have been countless observations years ago on this subject, but this was my first epiphany, so suck it.

Cringesday: Failure At Funny Edition

Last night, Shain lured me over to his house under the pretense of, fine, I kind of knew what was about to happen. He wanted to film me watching this video or something. What else am I going to do on a balmy November night? Oh right. Walk my dog forever and play with the new make up I got with Lacey. Which explains why I look like a street walker nearing retirement in this video. I can't make excuses for my lame comments. I can say that I'm much prettier in person and Shain is actually much less prettier in person. Here's the link, if you dare. And I wouldn't.

Two Girls One Cup, We're Not Funny

PMS: Part II

I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm kind of a little bit rere (I think Julie Gong's working to trademark this term, ask permission before using) at 114% of anything and everything I endeavor to do. Lately, I've put my mind to taking an ungodly amount of time to decide whether or not I'm in a relationship and whether or not this is a good thing. Good news! I am and it is! (You know, for now, until I fuck it up or he notices that I live at home or something.) In the meantime, I guess I've fallen into that age old trap of all your friends are belong to hating you. No one calls anymore because they think I'm busy (gettin' busy - zing!). Then they get mad if I don't call even though they didn't call in the first place leading me to believe they don't like me. Well, guess what, kids. I don't need any of you. I've got a new MySpace friend. We're gonna be eternal BFFs, like forever.

Question:

have you ever had such bad PMS that you actually start to relate to (not to mention almost like) a Tori Amos song?

Shit, man.

Cringesday: Remember when we were young?

My darling little 9 or 11 year old cousin (There are so many, I forget exact ages, ok? Sue me.) just sent this to me. She discovered email a few weeks back and I've been bombarded with little snippets into her world ever since. Her missives sometimes crack me up, sometimes break my heart, but always make me glad I've grown up (theoretically). I've drafted about 300 responses and none of them seem to convey anything useful, including instead helpful advice like "you'd better quit band now if you ever want a boyfriend" or "stressed out!? try a pregnancy scare then call me back about 'stressed out'" and "definitely keep playing basketball even if your teammates hate you and you're on a losing team because no one likes a fatty." So you see, I need your help. What do I say?

Hey Blythe, Whats up? We had to play our instruments for a bonfire a couple of days ago. It was so much fun! How are things going at your place? Hope your having fun at your school. Speaking of school, we had a couple of b-ball games over the past couple of days. Out of three games,we only lost both. But then yesterday we had another game: The 5 and 6 grade girls won, the 5 and 6 grade boys won, and the high school girls lost.[ aww man!] Enough about me, what about you? I'm so stressed out! There is so many things going on at our school. Your friends all reject you, then you are told that you're not a starter, and there is so many things to be mad about! Well, I gotta go and do my laundry. Talk to you later! Love you!

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday Except On A Tuesday & About TV Instead Of Music

Yeah, so this blog has been sucking hard core lately (and not in a good way). I know. You don't have to humor me (Shain). It turns out I'm quite terrible at balancing more than a couple of things in my life that require more than the attention span of your average Hills character. Also, my writer's off striking for the WGA and has been preparing for about a month. In support, I thought I'd come up with a list of TV shows to watch as the reruns will most likely begin at some point. Unfortunately, this blog will go into reruns too, so get ready for that post about how thongs make my butt hurt any day now. Or should I say fortunately? Semantics. Anyway, so clear out the old episodes of Law & Order:SVU and Good Eats, then get to your Netflix queue before the rest of America does. I think we're in this for the long haul.

Friday Night Lights - Duh! This show rocks my figurative balls off. Catch up and catch on.

Freaks and Geeks - Duh squared.

Arrested Development - Yeah, I've seen each season about four times each, but maybe this I won't be so stoned and/or buzzed that I'll remember. That I've made a huge mistake. By watching without being, well, you know.

The Wire - Maybe it's time to see what all the fuss is about.

The War - Dear Ken Burns, you went to Hampshire, so I feel compelled to be in your corner. For 15 hours.

Weeds - Mary Louise Parker is smoldering. Conrad is just ridiculous. Elizabeth Perkins is the best. Kevin Nealon isn't just for Weekend Update.

The British Office - And for good luck, Extras. Kate Winslet dressed up like a nun trying to lick her own nipple gets me every time.

My So Called Life - Mrs. Jordan Catalano. Someday, someday... I wish my hair smelled like oranges.

49 Up, etc. - Who doesn't love a good British documentary?

Well, it's a start. Questions? Comments? Concerns? Contributions? I think I might have to upgrade my Netflix account. The last strike went on for 22 weeks, or the amount of time I go between hair cuts. Date me! If you need me, I'll be buried under my comforter with my remote.

That Was A Pontiac Game Changing Performance

I actually wore red to this game. Not going to lie, I was, for whatever reason, a little worried about Texas A&M. Their fans are so literally militant that I can only assume they threaten the team with their lives, obviously increasing motivation to win. Also, we've had a few close calls lately. Nothing like LSU, but that's ok, they're going to lose. And so is OSU. And then we're coming after you, Kansas, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

This was not a normal game day. Saturday marked the return of Father Bee-Spot to his perch in the end zone. He's been out of commission since Nosebleed07 and was pretty excited to get back out to the field. Of course, Mother Bee-Spot accompanied and I also joined in along with, well, I guess it's now or never, like a Band-Aid, I'm 87% sure I have what could be called a boyfriend type person. Tensions are high as my mother's antics are legendary and I get all awkward and nervous in these situations. And in general. Fortunately, these dudes sitting behind my mom stole the show and kept my mom laughing so hard she couldn't belt out her normal cries of "what the shit!" and "run!". One kid was an A&M fan while the other was for OU. They were both obscenely drunk. And, quite hysterical. A&M dude actually got my dad to say Coach Frangina. He later professed (screamed in a rare moment of almost silence) to our section that A&M doesn't have cheerleaders because of their "sexual issues." This all sounds stupid now, of course, but this kid was a riot.

OU vs Texas A&M, Saturday, November 3: A Shitty Photo Essay

I love night games! It was lovely out, too. No wind, just right and I got to rock my puffy LL Bean vest, which is apparently not fashionable here.

Look! Kid with bucket! Ok, that was me.

The Texas A&M band. Suspicious formation, no? Just Saying...

My mom and her boyfriends. But seriously, this guy was funnier than almost any other person I've met in real life lately. I told Mom to Facebook them to see if they wanted our extra Baylor tickets.

Check out that score! This is the kind of game I'm used to. None of that Iowa State bullshit.

Then I went to the bars. The end!

It's Friday, I'm in Love

Not. Not even remotely. In fact, I'm in hate. Except I was taught not to say hate. Instead, I had to say severely dislike. I hate that I had to say that.

Things I am in hate with: Asshat drivers of the OKC metro area. Rudy Giuliani. Work. Cell phone bills. Student loans. Unloading the dishwasher. Drying my hair. Mint mojito gum. Hannah Montana. Baked Lays. Blogs. Sitemeter. Cheap tequila. People who leave pizza boxes open for all of the warmth to escape leaving cold, congealed slices. Sore boobs. The fact that there is NO GOOD BEER in the entire freaking state. Unripe bananas. Toy sized dogs. myfriendspacebook. Soggy french fries. Running out of hot water in the shower. Stop signs. Nightly nightmares. Miracle Whip. Everything.

Things that would make me feel better: These. A few of these. Maybe a little of this. A beer from this place. Him. Being here. Eating an entire bowlful of these delicious, delicious morsels of goodness. Hanging out with her. Wearing this.

Blah.