crap sandwich

Yesterday, I started my new job at the old job. I was so nervous I forgot to brush my teeth, I only used ACT mouthwashy stuff. I had to break into a coworker's emergency toothpaste stash. This morning, I forgot deodorant. I predict I will forget my bra tomorrow.

In a related story, do you ever suddenly move away from where you lived for six years and kind of inadvertently cut off communication with all of your friends because the last six months you were there you were essentially 180 degrees from your real self, then drink some wine one night and look at their Facebook pages (like a douche) and realize they're all just fine without you and you want to cry a little, but can't because that would be stupid?

In another related story, have you ever had a boyfriend who's in law school and they get real frustrated and throw books around and stuff? And you feel really crappy because there's nothing you can do about it except say, well, that's why I didn't go to law school.

Things White People Love #34, St. Patrick's Day

There's nothing immigrant hating WT's in Oklahoma like more than celebrating St. Paddy's Day. It's the perfect time of year to bust out your "Kiss Me I'm Irish" t-shirt, green and white striped super gay Dr. Seuss hat, guzzle some overpriced green beer and try to get laid by female counterparts wearing very tiny green t-shirts and tinier pants with even tinier brains. If you're a little higher up on the socio-economic ladder, you carefully scour Abercrombie or American Eagle for that perfectly fitting, peck revealing polo, primed for a festive popped collar. If you're even higher up on the ladder, you've most certainly spent the week before perusing Urban Outfitters and other vintage t-shirt sites for the perfect, gently worn, super ironic, tight fitting tee for the occasion. If you're me, you hate all of you.

Hope you had a car bomb.

T.C.O.B.

So, where have I been, you no one might ask?

1. Stuck in traffic on 2-35 North.
2. Mourning the end of The Wire. I've Netflixed Friday Night Lights, Freaks and Geeks, Lost, and now The Wire. What's next?
3. Getting a promotion at work, which means I feel increasingly guilty about using company bandwidth to support this habit. Also, I actually kind of have to do stuff now.
4. Contemplating a haircut.
5. Spending some QT with Mr. Shain and Rockband. Spending some QT with Shain and my dad at a forensics tournament. Yeah, it's weird.
6. Hating on the mega-churches that have sprung up all over the metro.
7. Buying reusable grocery bags from eBay because there's no place I can think of that would sell them here.
8. Watching Ade get presumably whacked on the A&E Sopranos marathon. I'm glad it was Sil.
9. Getting lost in the aisles of Sam's. Did you know you can buy three pounds of Cinnamon Toast Crunch for only $6? Shiiiiiiiiiit.
10. Drinking too much Lion's Head. Not going to the gym.

OHMYGOD WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE: Part II.

Oh, to be an Oklahoman. This morning, as I was listening to NPR, the local news had a story about State Rep Sally Kern spewing hate. I was going to post it, but The Lost Ogle beat me to it. Jesus Christ on a stick. There is a war, a recession and American Idol. Who has time for this shit?

Sally Kern is a jerk via The Lost Ogle.

OHMYGOD WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!

This morning, as I was taking the detour off Sheilds that led me to a detour off whatever street that was which made me want to kill someone, I was listening to a little NPR. I hear the familiar and strangely hypnotic voice of the StarDate lady. Usually, I block her out or become entranced, I'm not sure which, but this time, something caught my attention. Namely the fact that, potentially, we're all going to die because this star's going to explode our ozone layer and stuff. Bad news bears, but wait, it gets better. This other star might explode, but instead of the ozone crap, it would cause a gamma ray burst, which would exterminate life on earth in a mess of fires and storms and deadly particles oh my! This is what StarDate lady says exactly:

"Luckily for us, gamma-ray bursts seem to beam into space from the poles of the exploding star. The poles of Eta Carinae don’t aim our way, so we’re probably safe from this doomed star."

Probably safe? Holy ozone depleting deadly particle riddled balls! This woke me up right in time to realize just how ugly downtown OKC is. Really. Don't visit.

BREAKING NEWS: I had a dream that no one is interested in.

Since I've driven this blog into irreparable disrepair, I can now post even crappier content without fear of alienating readers. Because there are really no readers. So...

Last night, I had this dream. I finished a puzzle of the alphabet, each letter on one piece, making a long train when completed. Suddenly, someone handed me a hamster. I understand that these are the hamsters sent to every US tax payer by the Jordanian government in thanks for something I can't recall. The weird thing about these hamsters is that when you place them on the puzzle, they deposit little turds on various letters, spelling out important messages. I can't remember what the message said, but of course it probably holds the key to life.

An open letter to February.

Dear February,

You sucked harder than what it must be like to endure a Jessica Alba movie if you are blind. You brought the stomach flu, the other kind of flu, a UTI, a lingering cough and an unshakable malaise that has resulted in me watching an inordinate amount of TV swaddled in my comforter craving Girl Scout cookies. To top it all off, you had the audacity to be 29 days long this year.

Blow me,

B

P.S. March is going to rock my figurative balls off. You can count on that. So far, it's already better because there was an awesome thunderstorm last night. Also, I found this song which makes me happy. It's the little things.

I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You - Black Kids

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Beer instead of music edition.

You may not know this about me, but I like beer. A lot. More than liking beer, I like to complain about the lack thereof here in the Sooner state. After spending a million years in the MA, I grew accustomed to the multitude of microbreweries dotting New England and beyond, their microbrews available in package stores, bars and restaurants. I miss a lot of things about New England like seafood, liberals, snow storms, independent video stores, all varieties of Cabot products, villages, mountains, soft serve stands, but I think I miss the beer most of all. I would vote for McCain if you offered me a Harpoon UFO at this point. Oklahoma's liquor laws are more mysterious than why No Country for Old Men won best picture last night over There Will Be Blood or why I'm so attracted to Helen Mirren. I guess I'll just never understand. In the meantime, if you're headed to the NE or are already there, pour one of these out for me.

Harpoon UFO - so wheaty.


Long Trail Double Bag - so malty.



Smuttynose Old Brown Dog - so brown.



Magic Hat #9 - so magic (and apricot).



Brooklyn Pilsner - so golden.



Rapscallion Blessing - so comes in an awesome brandy snifter like glass that you can steal if you bring a large enough purse.

So You Think You Can Dance Audition Tape #4,679

BREAKING NEWS: Mr. Shain may not be so bad.

Today, or yesterday, I don't really know, longtime bee-spot reader and friend/hater, Mr. Shain, formerly of *The Life & Times, sent me an email. Within this email was a link to the website Stuff White People Like. Maybe you've heard of it already, chances are, I don't care. In the meantime, the site provides a bit of hilarity during a long day at the office blogs. To tell the truth, and listen carefully, because I am rarely honest (also, you guys are the most awesome readership ever!), it's more a site about what yuppies like. I can get behind that as some day I aspire to be a yuppie, but until then I will drive a Camry instead of a Prius. Anyway, my point is, this list makes sense if you live in Connecticut or Vermont or maybe Edmond. For the rest of us (especially here in Oklahoma), I think there's a different list to be had.

George Bush
Matchbox 20
Cracker Barrel
Jack and Ron on 98.9
Buying American
Lake Hefner
Sam's Wholesale Club
The Blazers
local banks
Diet Coke/Pepsi
The Lake (where ever that might be)
Gary England/weather preparedness
Bricktown
Edmond Public Schools

My boringness has reached an irreversible apex:

This is what I'm doing right now:

1. Watching onions brown as I make French onion soup. I actually bought a nip of Courvoisier to add to it.

2. Tab is open to Politico, waiting for the primary results.

3. Double fisting; Diet Coke and white wine (pinot grigio).

4. Listening to Fresh Air as Bart Ehrman discusses why religion is whack.

5. Wondering why my Technorati rating has gone from an all time high of 59 to 37.

6. Cursing Martha Stewart for buying the rights to Emeril's stupid fucking bullshit cooking show.

7. Thinking about how awesome Frontline could be tonight.

I don't even have kids, how have I become so utterly lame? Good lord.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Oklahoma Edition.

There are shows happening! Not many, but some. And they don't all suck!

2/20: G. Love and the Special Sauce w/Tristan Prettyman - potential Vh1 fare, but could be ok. (Cain's, Tulsa)

2/25: Jonathan Richman - sort of a throwback, but a good one. (Opolis, Norman)

2/27: Citizen Cope - remember that Pontiac commercial with the infectious song? It's him! He has other good ones too. (Diamond Ballroom, OKC) ALSO State Radio - they're all political and shit. (Cain's, Tulsa)

2/29: Built to Spill - I dunno, could be worth it. (Diamond Ballroom, OKC)

3/8: Wilco! - sold out. Jerks.

3/16: Blitzen Trapper - saw them with The Hold Steady. I would recommend, but what do I know? (Opolis, Norman)

3/17: Islands - but will I have enough money for all of these shows? (Opolis, Norman)

4/14: FEIST! - you all know I love her with all my (psuedo-commercial indie) heart.



And much more including Xiu Xiu and British Sea Power. Check it out at www.oklahomarock.com because I am too lazy to write it all down and they change things all the time.


Fun fact of the day: Did you know, that in 1780 or so or sometime near there but not exactly then, there was a brief country named Franklin in what would be Tennessee and that the leader was named Nolichucky Jack? Me either, until very recently.

Documentary of the day: No End in Sight. This movie was quite invigorating. I want to make Rumsfeld live with my mother for six months, he's so evil.

Fear of the day: The BF just shaved off his winter beard. Will he be the same?

Book of the day: The Tale of Genji. Daunting? Yes. Worth it? Also yes.

It's Friday, I'm in Love

with the most wonderful time of the year! No, not when all of my STD tests come back negative, but... wait for it... Girl Scout Cookie time! They're everywhere and they're delicious, so head out to your nearest Wal-Mart because these little ladies are sitting at a table in front, mopping up the drool from the "greeter," waiting to take your money. I only eat Thin Mints, Shortbread and Peanut Butter Patties. I am a boring purist. It would take at least $5 to get me to eat a Samoa because those things are gross and even look gross. MMMMMMMM!

I suppose it's Valentine's Day or some crap.

I was sent home from work today. Asked to leave. No kidding. It appears that somewhere between about 12am and 6am this morning, I totally lost my voice. I can only eek out a barely audible whisper, sometimes accompanied by an errant croak. It's very sexy, trust me. A large portion of my daily work includes talking on the phone and meeting with people face to face (a large percentage of them international students), which proved to be quite difficult by hour three and due to my poor coordination resulting in gesticulations that were probably inappropriate to most cultures. I was sent packing. I arrived home to flop in bed and watch Knotting Hill, Sliding Doors AND Raising Helen (with chocolates sent to work by a software company). Valentine's Day complete. I guess. I was informed last week the the BF doesn't celebrate V-Day, instead choosing to participate in "Meat Week" which maybe means he's gay, I don't know. It also might mean he reads College Humor* or this website. I'm just hoping I get a steak tomorrow night or something.

I'm not going to lie, I was kind of bummed about this. My past V-Days have always been shitty (one includes pink eye, another when I got someone the worst gift ever - a beta fish, another - actually, I can't remember them anymore, must've blocked them out), so not having one is probably best for me. Also, I reviewed the state of my mental last year and have decided that I'm ahead this time around, so all is well even if there are no flowers and crap. So, have a good one. Or don't have one. Or have a crappy one. It all evens out in the end.

*The other weekend, I was playing this retarded (sorry, no other word will suffice) made up drinking game and I had this great, what I would think College Humor worthy idea (if College Humor sucked, well, sometimes it does). Picture this, beercreditreport.com. You know, for all of your friends that abandon wounded soldiers all over your place. Or drink your Stella and replace it with Natty. Or totally cheat during pong by making their partner drink or by being a girl. You know, that kind of shit. If this already exists (because I am clearly too lazy to use Google), just humor me, ok?

Friends (or whatever), help me save my 5th favorite TV show. Please.

Good Idea #78

It seems that come May or June or July or probably August, I, along with the rest of the United States excepting those who actually desperately need it, will be the recipient of $600 courtesy of a recently passed congressional stimulus package (insert joke about stimulating packages here). I was debating whether or not to use the surplus to pay off one month's interest of my student loans, a deposit on a new place, those glasses I've been needing or... shit from SkyMall. It will be a tough decision.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday

Saturday night, in spite of my aforementioned condition, the BF arranged a little date chock full of what passes at culture here in the Sooner state. We made reservations for dinner and a movie at the Oklahoma City Museum of Art. The museum offers a prix-fixe menu and tickets package for NPR listening dorks like ourselves. The movie featured this week was "I'm Not There," the un-bio pic about not Bob Dylan, but yes. A few weeks ago, I saw "There Will Be Blood" as mentioned on this blog, not that anyone reads at this point. I wasn't sure how to react to the film. Was Daniel Plainwhatever really a bad guy? Was he the worst guy ever? Did the Radiohead dude steal his musical ideas from "Woman in the Dunes," a 1960s Japanese movie? In any event, the movie raised questions, made me think, made me squirm and all that shit, in the way a movie should. "I'm Not There" caused pretty much the same reaction, but in the way a movie shouldn't. From the moment it began, I couldn't wait for it to end. The film was so fucking inconsistent, and not in its narrative conventions, but in the choices the writer/director made about alternately hitting the viewer over the head with obvious retardedness then complete and purposeful cryptic crap. I wanted to like this movie. I expected to like it. However, it was utter crap, and I rarely say that. The only redeemable aspect, of course and obviously, was the inclusion of Dylan's music, in his own voice and through various covers. We could all wax interminably about Bob, so I will leave all of that to the pros. I will just mention a few songs that struck me and have continued to play in my head since the movie ended. Way too long after it began. I'm curious if others who have seen if share my reaction or think I'm completely off my (folk)rocker.

Download these:

Going to Acapulco - Jim James & Calexico: Sadly charming and perfectly haunting. Just when I think MMJ is a one trick pony, this collaboration revives my love for both groups.

Just Like A Woman - Charlotte Gainsbourg with Calexico: Charlotte was also in the movie, portraying Dylan's estranged wife, Sara. She's the only character who was even remotely compelling. Her breathy rendition of maybe my favorite (albeit everyone's) Dylan song quietly wrings the sexism out of the lyrics.

Lay Lady Lay - Bob Dylan: Ok, I lied. This is my favorite Dylan song. I shall dust of Nashville Skyline.

Positively 4th Street - Johnny Rivers: What's not to like?

One More Cup Of Coffee - The White Stripes: I wonder if Bob ever wished he sang better, or at least had a voice just as distinct, but in a tolerable way.

Simple Twist of Fate - Jeff Tweedy: Oh dear. Involuntary emotional surge during the last verse. Heart hurts. Also, isn't nice to actually understand the lyrics for once?

The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll - Mason Jennings: I bet Jennings wished he wrote this.

In other news: other songs I like at the moment.

Harvester of Hearts - Rufus Wainwright: Happy V-Day!

At 7 - Britta Persson: I hate that I find myself drawn to songs like this. Blech. Yay!

Mother's Child - Crystal Moustache: Weird5000.

Lake Erie - Nat Baldwin: This guy's from the Dirty Projectors, not that you couldn't have figured it out.

New Soul - Yael Naim: Yes, this is in a MacBook commercial. Blow me. It's still a great song.

More Cover Mania!

In The Aeroplane Over The Sea - Matt Pond PA: Never gets old, no matter who's doing it.

Thirteen - Wilco: This song breaks my heart over and over again. There's an Elliot Smith version as well, which literally makes me tear up.

Always On My Mind - Ryan Adams: I'm still waiting for my ex-boyfriend to dedicate this to me.

I am so out of touch with everything:

2080 - Yeasayer: It turns out this is pretty interesting. There's definitely a Beach Boys resurgence happening. (Besnard Lakes, Cass McCombs, and others, I would say.)

Oh, also, of course, I bought the Vampire Weekend full length album. Even my dad loves it.

Live Blogging the Grammy Awards

6.58pm - Oh, the Grammy's are on? Does that mean there will be new episodes of The Office? What day is it?

7.02 - Boring. Boring. Boring.

7.34 - Boring. Amy Crackhouse wins again.

sometime in between - Beyonce booty shaking like a maniac with an old lady wearing a skin-tight space suit made of foil aka Tina Turner.

8.11 - Boring. Where's Cracky Whorehouse?

9.02 - Why do I know all of the words to "That Old Black Magic?" The BF is looking at me strangely as he puts in ear plugs.

9.05 - They're showing Dexter on CBS?

9.09 - I love me some Stevie Wonder, but the guy needs a sighted stylist.

9.12 - The BF's fart is more exciting than Alicia Keys' performance.

9.18 - Kanye just got told! By Vince Gill! Not even Vince Neil! Don't fuck with Oklahomans.

9.41 - There she is. She makes Nicole Richie look fat. She's also wearing the inside of a Victorian casket. Pretty...

9.forever - Boring.

And the winner is...

Love means, Part II:

Yup.  So as soon as I concluded the puking out of my butt portion of the evil sickness that has gripped central Oklahoma in its Pepto covered hands, I managed to surrender to another malady.  The ladies will know what I'm talking about.  It's the little fucker known as the UTI.  Pissing what feels like millions upon millions of shards of broken glass approximately every five minutes will make a perfectly nice young lady (me) turn into a horrible, whiney, terrible, irritable, heartless bitch (also me).  Because my health insurance blows balls ($75 copay to take a urinary analysis that I could have given myself - blood + pee = infection - where's my $75!) and I am 1/4 new age, I decided to treat this little infection the old fashioned way - with $9 100% natural, organic cranberry juice.  I had to drive (and piss at) three stores before I found acceptable juice.  Norman, OK is not the place to get such a substance at 8.30pm.  It's only today that I'm feeling better in all departments, but probably only a matter of time before I contract the other flu circling the state or get something gross, like a sty.  akljfsdfjajkl;djsf.  In the meantime, I actually made a playlist for tomorrow!  All in good time, all in good time.

Love means...

sharing the same bathroom when you each have a different form of the nastiest GI focused flu/virus that ever was.

In a related story, I've lost 10 pounds! Now I can fit into my skinny sweatpants while I suffer.