The Meaty Efreeti

Friday, September 30, 2005

I'm not upset they've escaped, I am fucking furious that THIS was done in the first place however. shakes fist at the Navy's "cetacean training" program Via 71mm3r5.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

More Brilliance... j.s.



Just one thing quickly, since it's end of monthiness here and I'm pretty swamped. I've been accused several times in the past few days, by a few different people, of bringing a certain amount of rakish mischief into their lives that, without my somehow *huge* influential presence, they'd otherwise completely avoid. Each of them had different instances they pointed to, saying "if you hadn't been there, there's no way that would have happened." The first time I heard this I hand-waved it dismissively. Then someone else said almost the exact same thing. And then a third party last night said it again, and when I protested they cited several examples of ridiculous, dangerous and/or salacious behavior that I was somehow directly involved in, with either them or their friends. And while they weren't blaming me for these events, they too said that things like that only happen when I'm around. So now I'm beginning to wonder if there's actual merit to these accusations... Because you people are starting to make me feel like the devil who rocks the sleeping saint's cradle. So, I'll put it to those of you that I've been out with. There isn't some kind of mystical dissolute field that surrounds me when we go out, is there? One that causes you to perform acts that you otherwise would find reprehensible any other time? [[Ed: And no fair counting the time I spent in Logan, because that's Utah and we all know I play by an entirely set of scruples than most there do.]] See, I don't think so. And I'm tempted to lay the blame squarely on the alcohol consumption, which shouldn't be directly attributable to me either...in most cases. But if these folk are right, and I am some kind of roguish behavior conduit, then I guess I have to accept accountability for this strange phenomenon. And if being in my presence makes you imbibe rhino-sickening amounts of alcohol, sways you into urinating in the middle of the street, causes you to proposition topless dancers, leads you to the use of illicit substances, or puts you otherwise in a position to suffer physical, emotional or legal harm...then I sincerely apologize. I really had no idea. Alas, better the devil you know than the devil you don't, right? j.s.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Why must it come down to the wire every year with the Red Sox? Why? I mean, a few weeks ago we were 4 games up on the Yankees, and looking to cruise into the playoffs with ease. Today, we're somehow a half game back on them, and have a goddamn double-header against Toronto today. (I'm listening via webcast now.) And this weekend will be entirely taken up by the Sox/Yanks series to end the regular season, and will probably decide who goes to the playoffs, and who misses out on October ball this year. Sigh. And it's all making me very, very nervous... j.s.

Monday, September 26, 2005

All is slowly returning to normal. Many people are back at work (our office is open for example), the gas lines are shrinking, there's still quite a few people at grocery stores I hear, but that's to be expected since most of them have been closed for almost 3 days. The storm, or lack thereof, is still the topic on everyone's mind and lips. And I, for one, am quite sick of talking about it. So instead, I'm going to Linky Monday and move on. DELICIOUS STICK!!! "Hi, I'm a planet - No Splashing." Clap Your Hands, Say What? And finally, some of you might remember me talking about how awesome a Leibovitz fashion shoot, done in the vein of Alice in Wonderland, was a while back. Someone out there has heard my plea, and made THIS. Multipass praises be unto you. [[Warning: For those who won't find Tom Ford depicted as the White Rabbit to be funny, or who won't see the irony of Jean Paul Gaultier dressing as the Cheshire Cat, or John Galliano as the Queen of Hearts, you can go ahead and skip that last one.]] j.s.

Saturday, September 24, 2005

Hi again. Sorry about the lack of pictures. Turned out I was driving and D was manning the camera...with which he got plenty of shots, but all of them are on his computer at the moment. I'll update them here later. So we drove around a bit, dropped by the office and my house to make sure all was well, and took an Igloo full of bottled water and Gatorade in the back of the Jeep to hand out to anyone who needed it. Turned out that was a good idea as lots of homeless had taken up shelter in bus stops and some were drinking from fire hydrants they'd cracked open. We handed out the whole cooler, 2 boxes of granola bars, and half a carton of Marlboro Lights, then headed back home as I'd dipped down below 1/2 a tank of gas. There still isn't any gasoline in the city, as all the asshats who needlessly left town have now decided to return home on their own, despite the requests of both the mayor and the governor. See, the gasoline trucks, along with all the FEMA and Red Cross trucks, are stuck in traffic behind them. So not only did they cock up the works on the way out...now they're fucking up the relief effort on its way to Beaumont and West LA too. And to make matters worse, I just heard a report that someone got sick of waiting in a gas line, and decided that brandishing a pistol at other automobiles was the best way for him to cut ahead in line. Cops arrive. He gets away. Once again...I stand in awe at some people's capability for selfishness. j.s.



Saturday - 2:00pm A few puddles, 3 or 4 branches broken and sitting outside, 4 shingles by the front door. The power apparently blinked sometime last night, as all the clocks are flashing midnight, but I never noticed. Rita...I am so very unimpressed. The most interesting part of the whole ordeal was watching transformer after transformer ("ba weep grahnah weep ninny baum") pop last night and send bursts of green light up on the horizon, accompanyed by a quick, thunder-like boom. I sat outside until around 2:30 in the morning and watched no less than 15 of 'em blow. Aside from that and an occasional gust of wind, this has been the most anemic "CATEGORY 4 HURRICANE HEADING DIRECTLY FOR HOUSTON...RUN!" that I've ever seen. For those of you who are out of town and haven't already left to come back, roughly 2.5 million of you, I wouldn't bother coming back in just yet. Houston has no gasoline, none of the grocery stores are open (HEB and Kroger say they're opening tomorrow at 9am), and while the traffic won't be nearly as bad as it was on the way out, you're still going to have to suffer through quite a bit as the freeways are already starting to fill. And when the local gov't gives the go-ahead for people to come back home it's going to get worse. Best of luck. And while I'm on the subject, I'd like to bring up a point D and I discussed last night. Let's say the city did flood, and people here needed help. Those Houstonians that panicked and ran? A lot of them that we saw were younger males in their 20's and 30's, and many of them had to have been single since they're sitting in cars with groups of friends. I'm talking to you guys now. Not only did you jump in front of evacuating sick, elderly and families with small children, you also turned your back on your city. You're young, strong, healthy, and have no family of your own. You are in the "hero" demographic wheelhouse mate. And your friends and neighbors just might've needed your help. But you ran away. Think about what that says about you. Now the media will praise you for being safe and leaving town, because they're the one who scared the shit out of you and they can't back down now. I'm calling it like I see it. You panicked, became selfish, and instantly became like those people who'd trample an old woman or child on their way out of a burning building. No? That isn't you? Then explain the difference to me, because I don't see it. Okay, enough of that. D and I are getting ready to head over to the office to check on things, and then swing by my house and make sure all is well there too. I'll have my phone with me to take pictures of anything of note along the way, and I'll upload 'em here while we're on the road. Talk to you later. j.s.

Friday, September 23, 2005

Friday - 7:30pm Not sure if you can tell from that last picture, but that was an absolutely brilliant rainbow that arced over our heads, just as the first band of wind and rain made its way toward us. Couldn't have asked for a more graceful departure from the sun, especially since it'll be gone for the next few days. D and I sat on the front steps, the first few drops of Rita hitting us, listening to the trees groan and creak and basically staring Rita back down in her beady little eye. I leaned my head back and opened my mouth, drinking drops of the storm with a smile. You know, I have to wonder if the folk who left Houston unnecessarily are kicking themselves right now. 10 - 24 infuriating hours spent in gridlock traffic, wasted. Hell, a lot of you even had to leave your cars behind along the freeway after they overheated or ran out of gas. (That freeway flooded high enough to where 18-wheelers floated down it during a tropical storm a few years ago. Time to put GEICO on speed dial.) I think there's a valuable lesson about media spin there for us all. If you're terrified, you're watching. And if you're watching, you're sitting through commercials. Think about it. If they were really concerned about your safety they would've stopped throwing ads at you every 5 minutes. j.s.



Something tells me we're going to be fine...



Our window plywood, prior to putting it up.



Friday, 11:43am The winds are starting to kick up a little, which actually is a welcome respite from the brutal heat of the past few days. They're even starting to whistle a bit around the front of the house. Still, most of the neighbors that have stayed are hanging out on each other's porches, chatting and laughing, having a drink or two. Basically, everyone is doing fine. Rita however, doesn't appear to be doing so well. She's dropped to a category 3 and is wobbling farther toward the north, putting us on the west side and thus, overall, she's looking kinda weak on the Houston side. Also, I just tried to set up Audioblogger software, so I could just update by talking to you via my cell if/when we lose power... However the phone number given just rings and rings. So instead, I've set The Meaty up to receive pictures and messages via my cell. Will test it now. j.s.

Thursday, September 22, 2005

Back. Office is all moved and Hefty-bagged up. And only took 3 or 4 hours. Also called my landlady this afternoon to see if she wanted me to do anything for the house before I left. I ended up putting all her patio furniture, trash cans, birdfeeders, windchimes and the like away for her since she couldn't make it out to the house. Afterward I snaked my way back toward D's place along various backroads. By around 5 I saw they'd gotten one lane of the I-10 contraflow going, but the whole freeway was still at a complete stop. This lasted until around 8ish, until they finally reversed all the inbound lanes out near Katy, and the outgoing freeway became 9 lanes wide. For those of you who'd like to have a look for yourselves, HERE are our live traffic cams. (Check out the "Lake Woodlands" one. Apparently I-45 hasn't improved much.) I'm sure they'll be quite interesting once Rita arrives. And speaking of traffic, I'm going to have to place the blame for that traffic jam firmly on the shoulders of the media. Local news (both TV and radio) spent so much time inspiring terror in ALL Houstonians, not just the ones in evacuation zones, that people all over the city believed they had to get out. Thus, the roads become more packed than expected, people run out of gas, bedlam ensued. Although now they've somehow gotten gas trucks parked at a few strategically located rest stops which are allowing people to fuel up. As of a couple hours ago, the news has been advising all Houston residents to "hunker down" in their homes and prepare to ride out the storm. A complete reversal from what they've been saying for days now. We're wondering whether they're telling us this because they actually expecting a less devastating landfall than before, or whether they just want to stop people from clogging up the freeways and making them look unprepared. Regardless, I've a friend that I've been texting all day who left Houston at around noon, bound for San Antonio. It's 1 am. He's gone roughly 100 miles in that time. And has another 80 to go. Currently he's in a petrol line in Schulenburg where he's sat for 2 hours so far, and has just texted me asking to pray for gas trucks to arrive. So if you don't mind, please send a few good thoughts his way if you would. Thanks. Everything in the city has closed. Everything. Even Wal-Marts, grocery stores, restaurants and fast food places are boarded up. In fact, this kind of pissed us off since you'd think they'd stay open for a bit longer, given that the storm is still 24 hrs. away, and given that no one can evacuate the city at this point anyway. I mean, you're not going anywhere, might as well stay open for the many folk who just want a hot meal. After driving around for over an hour to find someplace that was still open, D and I finally went to Fry's restaurant on Westheimer. They sat us at the bar, took our order, then 30 minutes later said that their kitchen had refused to make any more food and that the cooks were going home. So we went to Hartz Chicken Buffet next door. Piles of fried chicken sat in metal bins awaiting the people already there in line...but we were informed on the way in that they were closed and to please leave. Sigh. So we drive all over the city, and brilliant idea after brilliant idea ends up punctuated by a handwritten "Closed Due to Hurricane" sign on the door. Finally, as we've given up and are heading home, we spot some lights on in a strip mall, and a few cars parked outside. A Quiznos, with people inside. So we go in, along with 14 cops (we counted) and everyone that works there is all smiles and well-wishes. And they make sure that we know they're open tomorrow, and to come back when we're hungry. Good people. Anyway, we've been told to expect the first tropical storm force winds to blow in tomorrow around noon, and for things to go steadily downhill from there. I'll keep you updated for as long as I have net access. G'night. j.s.



Okay. For those who are interested here's what's cookin' from what I've seen. Most major thoroughfares northward and westward look like Bob's Used Car Lot. Lots of people are just pulling off the road and conserving gas (or have already run out of gas) in wait for when the roads actually start moving again. Which the city claims will be "soon." Now, good idea in theory, except that it's 104 degrees out right now. Add the heat of pavement and all other cars to that (and subtract any wind at all...it's dead calm out right now) and you're easily around 110-115. This is causing people to get frustrated and cross over the medians to drive on the wrong side of the freeway, creating their own impromptu "contra-flow" lane. There was a kid on the other side of the road as I drove in to the office today, standing on the roof of a green minivan with a cardboard sign that read "NEED TRANSMISSION FLUID." Yeah, I thought it was creepy too. Now, from what I hear on the local emergency radio, FEMA has enlisted 150 school bus drivers to evacuate more people, however the buses are currently stuck in traffic like everyone else. They're trying to get more contra-flow lanes open, but in a city like this one (with a huge freeway "feeder" system) that ain't as easy as throwing down a few cones and flares and waving folks on over. I'm at the office right now, unplugging all the computers (the UPS beeping from all corners of the office is driving me insane) moving them away from all the windows into the center of the office, and wrapping them in garbage bags in case the windows break. And I've got to get back to it, will update later. j.s.

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

So, It would seem that Lovely Rita is free to take some tea with me this Friday night. Houston is beginning to look more and more like Beirut circa 1985, spray-painted plywood over all the windows, angry people arguing and shoving over fresh water, and a mass exodus out of town. I, however, am going nowhere. I wandered into the Randall's this afternoon on a whim to see if I could score some water, and of course MHS (Mother Hubbard Syndrome) had taken over. Nothing left at all...even the Perrier was gone. So I pick up a couple gallon jugs of Hawaiian Punch and as I'm heading back to the juice section I see a guy pushing a pallet stacked with 2 gallon Ozarka Water jugs. "Hey there! Mind if I grab one of those boxes?" "Sorry. There's already a line at the front of the store." "Oh. Damn. Okay, thanks anyway." I start to wheel my little cart off. "Hey!" "Mmm?" "Fuck it man. Here, take a box." "Hey, awesome! Thanks man, I really appreciate that..." "It's cool. You be safe." "Hey, you too." I've always relied on the kindness of strangers... So, I do live in the highest area of Houston, aptly called "The Heights," which stands a magnificent 62 feet above sea level. (Hey, it's all relative.) However my actual residential structure is in a garage, in a relatively old neighborhood, located right next to White Oak Bayou and not far at all from Buffalo Bayou. So, since I'm not sold on the structural integrity of a garage in 100+ mph winds, D and I will be holed up at his place. (Well, that and he has a fresh propane tank at the ready for BBQ'n.) During which time we will be playing cards, reading, and getting pissed on "Hurricane Ritas," a concoction of my own creation that I would be happy to share with you now, for those playing along at home. Hurricane Rita (A Hurricane/Margarita hybrid.) Add: 2 oz of white tequila 1/4 cup of passionfruit juice teaspoon of fine sugar 1 oz. triple sec. Shake in cocktail mixer until sugar is dissolved. Then add: 1/2 teaspoon of grenadine Juice of 1/2 a lime. Shake again. Pour into glass filled 3/4 with ice. Garnish with a lime peel, cut into a spiral. Sit back and enjoy by candlelight, with the dulcet tones of a battery-powered radio in the background... Oh, and worry not, those of you who are prone to do so. Sure, if you live anywhere on the south side of the 610 loop you should find somewhere safer to go. But the rest of you people? Like the folk calling radio shows and asking if they're going to be okay out in the goddamn Woodlands? You have all got to calm down. The world is not ending. Houston is not going to fly apart at the seams. We will not be reduced to Bartertown by the weekend. Relax. Yes, your house is going to get wet...dear God, the windows might even break and moisten your sofa. Yes, it's probable that you will be confined to your own house for a while due to flooding. And yes, it's quite possible that you will be without electricity for a few days during and after the storm. But seriously, everything is going to be okay. Uncomfortable for a couple days, but okay. Now, if it's the fear of discomfort that's send you scrambling toward cities northward, then so be it. Go. And best of luck on your search for comfort up there. But if it's the fear of injury or death that's making you skitter off? You need to take a deep breath, turn that fear-mongering box in your living room off, and check your prescription again because you're losing it without due cause. Get some drinkable fluids if you don't have enough for 3 or 4 days. Nab some canned food, maybe some bread or tortillas too. And just chill the hell out at home for a couple days. Let the mob mentality that's taking hold, causing the people who need to get out (see above) to be mired in traffic jams 50 miles long, stop with YOU. j.s.

Monday, September 19, 2005

Sweet Jesus people... I know there's another hurricane heading our way, and this one is even likely to hit us to some extent. (For those of you who are fuzzy on your Tejas geography, Galveston is about 45 minutes from my house.) But cleaning both the Kroger and Fiesta grocery stores out of bottled water (with the exception of Perrier, it being from France and this being Texas and all) is not only a serious irritation for those of us who are just trying to do normal shopping, it also seems just a tad excessive at this point. "People of zee wurl, relax." j.s.



Oh, and this IFL (Indie Fantasy League) write-up was quite clever. And those who read Pitchfork know that it's quite rare that they're funny...on purpose anyway. So my fantasy label, "Meerkat Kickstand Records," will soon proffer dozens of mopey yet hopeful, accessible yet ingenious, minimalist yet produced, indie pop hits. I will comb the streets of Helsinki, Montreal, and Austin for 24-year-old Moog/autoharp/theremin players with promising musical talent and equally promising hair. We shall have a Bottle Rocket-esque rise to national prominence, and eventually be purchased by the Bertelsmann Group amidst such controversy and gnashing of indie teeth that most of our artists will break up as a result. I, however, will go on to pursue my one true passion...producing VH1 specials. My God. It'll be beautiful. So who wants to play me? =] j.s.



It seems* that today is, once again, National Talk Like a Pirate Day. So...cough cough Arrr... Avast ye scabrous blubberlipped gruntmonkeys and give a listen. Jerbrush Threepwood, the scourge o' whalers n' privateers the world o'er, hereby be invitin' ya to enjoy a day o' swillin' grog, fightin' smackers, n' plunderin' booty. (All while ya be listenin' to the Decemberists o' course.) But 'fore ye get started, get out thar n' swab Ms. Charlotte's (th' Jeep) quarterdeck til she sparkles like diamond swag. NOW ye mutinous scupperrot, 'fore I keelhaul ye and yer whole damn fam'ly. Heh, I was so born in the wrong century... *[[Via Sampo.]] And, since I'm starting to get linky, HERE's a link to the new OK GO video...which is awesome. And lastly, "You get sick? Come back, I give you free salad..." j.s.

Friday, September 16, 2005

Hi. So last night was another O.C. evening. A few people, a few Red Stripes, many laughs. At around 11 we get a wild hair and decide to jaunt over to "La Carafe," a bar downtown that I'd been wanting to check out for a while. So we roll in, and it was as every bit as cool as I thought it would be...though very dark. Two enormous mounds of white candle wax sat heaped on the back bar, there was a moose head on the wall (wearing a Moose Lodge fez), the mahogany bartop was rutted with hundreds of names that'd been carved into it over countless years, and they had an old fashioned cash register, complete with hand crank and happy "chingching!" noise when opened. In the back corner there was a rickety old wooden staircase leading to the upstairs bar and patio, so we wander up and see a couple talking to the bar owner with a leashed pitbull-mix puppy. We chat with them for a few minutes, I play with the dog, then we head back downstairs. As we're getting ready to leave, we see the couple heading downstairs, the puppy leading the way, straining at its leash. Then, somehow, it gets loose from the girl holding it and bolts for someone on the other side of the bar. This someone becomes completely unimportant when the puppy sees the world outside the front door, and it sprints out of the bar, right into the middle of the street. Into oncoming traffic. I start after it as I see this happening, but before I can get outside, I hear a puppy yelp... And she's been hit by a passing car. They didn't even stop. I sprint into the street, stopping traffic, and kneel next to this tiny dog, trying to ascertain how badly it's hurt. It had definitely dislocated its back hip and I guessed it had some internal damage as well. Another girl comes out, claiming to have vet experience, and tells the owner to get a piece of meat and see if the dog will eat it. (This seems kind of ridiculous to me since the dog is quite obviously in shock and thus not eating anything...but of the two of us I'm not the one claiming to have veterinary experience so I don't say anything.) While the girl runs off to find some coldcuts I tell the guy to call information, get the number of a 24 hr. vet clinic, and tell them that they're on their way with a puppy that's been hit by a car. They do so. It's then that the puppy's quick, panicked breaths stop completely. So, there I am, kneeling in the middle of a street in downtown Houston, cars are swerving around me into the lanes to either side, there's a circle of people watching me, and I've one hand gripped tightly around a puppy's mouth and the other is cradling its head as I breathe puffs of air into its cold little nose... In between breaths I tell the owner to get his car and bring it up to us so as to move the puppy as little as possible. Minutes later, he pulls up in a truck. And as he pulls up (the headlights pointing right in my face), the puppy starts to whine again, so I stop breathing for it. However it's still completely limp and glassy-eyed...which I take as a very bad sign, but I don't say anything of course. So the "vet experience" girl and I carry the little thing around to the side of the truck, lay it on the passenger's lap, and off they go. And it's not until they're gone that I wonder exactly how it is that I knew how to administer artificial respiration to a dog... That one I still don't have an answer for. Anyway, we take off after this scene and head home. In retrospect, I really wish I'd gotten their number, or at least the name of the vet clinic they took the dog to, so I'd know if she's okay. It honestly didn't look very good though...so maybe it's better I didn't. So, the moral of this story is, when taking your dog to the bar? Do NOT let go of its fucking leash... grumbles j.s.

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Hi, So I've been hesitant to mention too much about this, as I wasn't sure if it was going to work out or not, and I didn't want to look like a total moron if it didn't... But it appears I'm going to be published next month. It's in a local Houston magazine, called "Envy," and marks the first time someone else has considered something I've written worth putting in front of lots of people. Granted, it's a local mag, which I suppose is a rather dubious accomplishment... But I'm excited anyway. And, yeah, I'm a little proud of it too. And, from the email I received today, it sounds like they want to move me to a full-page section next month. Therefore I could quite possibly be -gasp- paid for writing for them. Alas, there's a saying about tallying one's bipedal farm fowl, prior to complete gestation and subsequent escape from their spheroidal ova. So I think I'd better just take this one step at a time. In a similar vein, some of you have asked why it is I haven't written about New Orleans, or Bushie & Co.'s cock-in-the-cookies rescue attempts. It's mostly because I think that others who have been displaced are writing on their own blogs, and their voices are much more sincere and heartfelt than anything I'd say about it could possibly be. And it's partly because I feel a little guilty about riding around on a cruise ship while it was happening, and the day after I got off of said ship they used it to house evacuees. I mean, we could've come back early... (And I can't say that without it sounding elitist.) *in a Mr. Howell voice* "Oh, I suppooose Lovey and I could've cut our vacation short, had we but known that your entire life was being torn to ribbons by a category 5 hurricane. We'd have been quite disappointed of course, but we'd have gotten over it eventually. You know, whatever we can do to help." See? Pretty pathetic. Thus, I haven't talked about it. See you 'round Lovey. j.s.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Where in the hell did the time go? We're halfway through September the day after tomorrow. Which means cool weather is not far off, in theory. It also means the Mates of State / M83 & The Walkmen show is next week. I've got the indie jibblies already. jibblyjibbly And, in a similar vein, I've just purchased tickets to THIS. And it's quite probable that I'll require reconstructive facial surgery to remove the aggressive monkey grin that I'll be walking around with for weeks after that show. God help me...it's going to be awesome. So, anyone else want to head to Austin w/ me? j.s.

Monday, September 12, 2005

Okay, I think things are starting to settle down a bit. Set the wayback machine for last Thursday night at O.C, which was relatively normal I suppose. Just J.T. and Kristin and a couple of their friends, ridiculous conversation, and many Miller Lites. (J.T. doesn't drink Red Stripe unfortunately.) Actually the Miller Lite thing was kind of interesting since, when I ordered a bucket of them, the cute bartender there quipped "You know Shaw...you are so pretty. How is it you drink such horrible beer?" I think I stammered something to the effect of "uh, it's not for me really," (genius!) thanked her for the compliment, and walked off with my bucket of horrible beer, shaking my head. The rest of the night gets fuzzy, but I do recall the bartenders throwing things at the window at around 2am, in an attempt to get me to come in and close my tab...screaming "SHAW!" in unison. After which I get my ride home, then go to bed. Friday was work, after which I had a date with someone I'd met last week at O.C. Which, coincidentally, is where we ended up after she expressed her distaste for "Agora," my first choice. And it was...interesting. The conversation was good enough, despite it being of the garden variety 1st date ilk. You know, mostly music, film, books and school. (Turns out we have similar taste in quite a few of these areas.) So we had a few drinks, went by one of her preferred dive bars to play shuffleboard and drink Coronas, she laughed at most of my obscure reference jokes, and in retrospect I think we had an okay time...despite all the "1st date weight." However I was getting such mixed signals from this girl all night that it was impossible to get a bead on where it was I stood with her. One second we'd both be laughing at something, she'd glance away, and when she turned back she'd glare at me like I'd just stapled her cat to the ceiling fan. Seriously, she vacillated between levity and severity like no one I've ever met. Leading right up to the part where we closed down the bar, I walked her to her car, and then planned on heading home myself. But instead, she invites me over to her place, so naturally I say "sure." We drive over, and as we're walking up the steps she stops, looks me in the eye and says "we're not going to hook up by the way...just so you know." I nod, say something like "Yeah, I wasn't assuming that we were," and we continue up the stairs. Although this little exchange throws me off enough to miss the opportunity when we're laying together on her couch, pretending to be enthralled with Iron Chef, to at least kiss the girl. So, after watching horrible things happen to crayfish for an hour, I get up to go home. And even our goodnight kiss was delivered with very mixed signals... (I'd have to show you in person for you to get the gist of this one.) The consensus on this girl is that she's probably very analytical, and was actually trying to condense hidden meanings from our light and nebulous conversation... Honestly I've no idea. But I do know that she sure as hell waits long enough before text messaging people back however... And speaking of text messaging, I had one the strangest text conversations of my life Saturday night...with an entirely different girl. Namely, "The Mysterious Mi," who returned for lubricious highfalutin locution once again. The conversation began with Jenny calling me for a word that means "a perfect example of" and "sounds like 'ubiquitous.'" I respond with "you mean like 'quintessence?'" which turns out was the one she was looking for. So here's how the subsequent messaging breaks down: MM: "the quintessence ubiquitous concupiscence" Me: "Of the lascivious (and portable!) benthic ovum phlanges. Wait - or did you mean _I_ am the quintessence of ubiquitous concupiscence? (In which case you've obviously been reading my mail...)" MM: "I'm psychic and voyeuristic..." Me: "I often combine the two by astrally projecting "hidden cams." MM: "...& a purveyor of salacious sagas as well as briny viscous liquids from antediluvian objects that are suddenly fashion zeitgeist." Me: "laughs Brilliant." MM: "That's fucking hot. That should be next month's accessory. See callipygous sea creatures cybering." Me: "Cousteau beat us to it I think... 'Behold how ze clutch purse accentuates zis chordate's voluptuous bulges.'" [Ed note: Ahem, and not to break my arm patting myself on the back or anything, but that was made even more clever by the fact that stingray's eggs are often called "mermaid purses," and a collection of them are called a "clutch." Mmhmm...thank you.] MM: "You're smart...and dammit that is so hot." Me: "No. Being able to use the word 'callipygous' in a sentence? That is fucking hot. G'night Mi." MM: "Good night Miah." I swear, someday I'm going to meet that girl...and I'm going to marry her on the spot. Moving on... Sunday was NFL Opening Day, so I spent the first half of it with D. out at Dad's house, then watched the late game at his place. And the Gnomes were dominant, in case you were wondering. I'm ahead 93 - 82 now, and I have Terrell Owens and Alge Crumpler yet to play vs. just L.J. Smith on his side tonight. Ahem...and that translates to The Gnomes winning their season opener handily, for those that don't follow the foo'baw. Okay, I think that basically brings us back up to speed. And I'm sorry about the sporadic postings lately. There's just been a lot going on. I shall endeavor to be better about it. =] j.s.

Thursday, September 08, 2005

You know, it feels like everytime I finish one thing, 3 others arrive, all requiring my immediate attention. It's like playing Responsibility Whack-A-Mole. And I so hate having to do that...basically because I suck at that game. My typical response to overabundant demands on my time is to shut down completely, and do nothing. Which, I admit, may not be the best way to deal with stress... But then again I won't let just one person down and show favoritism. Disappointment for all! I took the top off the Jeep this week, in the hopes that this would signal to the weathermakers that I'm ready for it to cool off and to go ahead and set the Great Weather Arrow (GWAR) to Fall. Call it an experiment in reverse meteorology. The little article I'm writing for that local magazine is almost done, meaning I have 188 words of 250 written. And honestly I think I did pretty well just to come up with those... Especially when one considers that I'm writing about a hand bag made out of carpet. No, I'm not kidding. I keep telling myself "ya gotta start somewhere," but I have to admit that I never saw a "Berber Bag" comin' down the pipe. And yes, you all may now point and chortle at the fashion hack now. ... Feel better? Hey, that's why I'm here. Tonight is O.C. night once again, so I'll catch up with many of you there in a few hours. And it should go without saying that I could certainly use a drink. Especially since the '05 NFL season begins in about 3 hours with the Pats playing in Foxboro, and therefore, by extension, the Gnomes start their season long rampage tonight as well. w00t! j.s.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Hi. Still absolute bedlam here. Trying to catch up on all things work, straighten up my house, write my little column for Envy Magazine by this Friday, and clear schedule time for a date or two. Will post when I can. j.s.

Friday, September 02, 2005

Okay. Let's begin this and see how far we get. Friday Did a brief stint at work, then headed over to the airport to pick Jenny up. And given that she'd had her gall bladder removed just 6 days before, she looked remarkably good. We grabbed dinner, swung by the office to pick up our tickets (yes, I'd forgotten them in my desk drawer), then had a glass of wine at Agora. Which led to going over to Dean's for another drink. Alas, they were charging a cover there, which is a deal-breaker for us, so we bounced over to the O.C. instead and caught up with Luis and a friend of his. Good time had, and Jenny was happy to finally see the "mythical O.C." that she'd heard so much about. We take off from there at around 11:30, swing by my place so I can pack, then head down to Bolivar and see the fam at the beach house before we leave. Everyone is still up when we finally roll in at 2, and we sit up chatting and laughing until well after 4 before finally crashing. Saturday We head over to the boat at around 2 or so, and are met with a snaking mass of humanity leading up to the Carnival counters. After shuffling through it for over an hour, ranting and bitching at one another like a married couple, we finally reach the counter, get our room keys, and are allowed to get on the boat. We've just gotten into our room when a sickeningly cheerful bingely bing bong! chime sounds over the PA, informing us that we need to grab our lifejackets and meet for our "mustard drill." (In actuality it was a "muster" drill, but Jenny heard "mustard" instead, which prompted many subsequent jokes throughout the cruise.) So there we are, still irritated from having to Bataan Death March through the enormous line, but now we're standing outside in 100 degree heat, sweating like farm animals, bright orange lifejackets tied around our necks, and stuffed into a corner with numerous other cruise patrons, all wearing PFD's. As you might imagine, we tire of that game very quickly, and push our way out of the buoyantly befrocked crowd for a drink...leaving our lifejackets behind out of spite. Deck chairs are found, drinks-of-the-day (or "D-Day" as we began calling them) are ordered, and we settle in for some serious lounging. Which just about covers that day, until around 11 or so...when the boat began to tip and sway a little. Not much really, but enough to make walking kind of difficult for those who aren't used to moving with a rocking boat. (read as: Jenny.) So, after being chastised thoroughly for my earlier assurances that we would not feel any motion on the boat, we head back on deck where we plan on riding out the rough water. Skip forward until 3am, and we're still there, gale force winds howling around us, seas swelling to the 20'+ range, and I'm still having to apologize for the fact that she can feel the boat moving. We give up on staying outside when it starts to rain...hard...and we pop a couple Dramamine and head down below to crash. Sunday The waters have gotten awful, and the boat is swaying around like it's balanced precariously on the top of an exercise ball. Every couple minutes we see someone making a mad dash for the head/trashcan/railing to vomit. Fortunately, both Jenny and I are quite used to the movement by now, and actually are kind of enjoying it as it made the simple act of trying to walk from one place to another a much more amusing venture, and we lay out on the deck. I finish reading Palahniuk's "Haunted" and get terribly sunburned while Jenny naps under the protective sheen of her SPF 45. We do the formal dinner thing later, and as it turns out we're one of the few folks to be in the dining room, the rest still depositing gastric fluids into various cylindrical containers around the boat. Later we try out the clubs on board, the first of which is called "Chinatown." Had the Asian tiger/lion statues outside, red paper lanterns strung across the ceiling, all very cliche. Although I kind of thought that having an Asian band and only Asian servers working in there was a bit excessive... To say it sucked would be a monumental understatement, and it turned out to be the older crowd's hangout anyway, so we headed next door to "Stripes," which was billed as a "disco." And it was that. Sorta. Stripes was what a committee of 50-year-olds would create if they were designing a dance club for 20-somethings...in 1988. The bar, tables and dancefloor all had yellow and black warning stripes painted on them. Neon lights were set in the walls in places, with mirrors behind them to give them that "craaaazy infinite reflecting look." And their DJ there had un unfailing knack for clearing the dancefloor. I mean, he'd throw some KC and the Sunshine Band, or Prince, or MJ, and then follow those up with some random hiphop song that none of us had ever heard before. It was astounding how bad he was...really. But, having run out of options, we stay there and dance until it closes at 3am, then head to bed. Monday We grab breakfast and watch the boat pull into Cozumel. We start walking, denying the many vendors and all attempts by Carnival to get us to sign up for one of their little sojourns. Instead, we end up wandering along the "freeway" until a cab eventually pulls over and picks us up. To make a long story shorter, we ask the guy to take us to an awesome beach, and he drops us off at something called "Mr. Sancho's." Which I can assure you that we would never have chosen on our own, but was absolutely unbelievable, both in beauty and convenience. Little tables sitting right out on the beach, waiters running between the tables and the bar, and it was almost completely deserted...with the exception of a couple families and a few topless sunbathers. We stay there, swimming and drinking Sols, until the sun sets over the water and we catch another cab to Senor Frog's. Which was a great time, althouhg blazing hot. There was a family sitting at the table next to us with a boy and a girl, aged 12 and 13 respectively, that were getting absolutely wasted on tequila shots. So wasted in fact, that when the MC told everyone to stand up on their chairs and dance, the girl tried, wobbled, and crashed to the concrete floor, twisting her ankle in the process. They all point and laugh. I reach for my phone to call for an ambulance. Turns out she's fine. Suddenly it's 11, and we begrudgingly have to head back to the boat, just as Senor Frog's is starting to get good. Along the way we have the brilliant drunken idea that we could just "miss" the boat, stay at Senor Frog's until dawn, and then catch a ferry the next day to Playa del Carmen and hop back on the boat. Cooler heads prevail, and we board the boat with intent on going back to Stripes and bouncing the evening away to Ludacris and Kanye. Stripes is closed, which pisses us off since we have to wast what was a really fun buzz, and crash instead. Tuesday 7am. Jenny's b-day. Bingely Bing Bong! "Good morning folks, and welcome to Cozumel!" This causes me to open an eye and wonder if all the boat rocking somehow made the world skip. The cruise director later explains that the waters were too choppy around Calica, so we returned to Cozumel so we'd have something to do today. This pisses us off even more, since we could've stayed at Senor Frogs after all. But we quickly get over it and head back off the boat, and...okay I'll say it...we rent scooters. Yes, I drove a scooter. And...God help me...it was awesome. Weaving through traffic at 30kph with an embarrassed grin, headphones on, bandana flapping... It was so much fun that I'm very seriously considering one of these. And some awesome goggles. And a spiked German helmet. And a vanity plate that reads "ZCHOPR" Anyway, we drive along until we come across a beach with impossibly blue water and soft white sand, park the scooters, and spend the rest of the afternoon swimming, lounging, shedding our first necrotic epidermal layer. We drop off the biketas, head back to the boat, watch a horrible show that defies even my attempts at snarkiness (at one point there was a CGI video with golden unicorns/pegasi flying through what looked like a wormhole, with little dolls and teddy bears, dancing and floating around them...all while a guy in sequins sang "Dreamweaver." You have no fucking idea how badly it pained us to watch this trainwreck.) We head back to Stripes, dance until it closes, then sleep. Wednesday The entire day was spent lounging and reading, I finished Aristotle's "Metaphysics" (yes, I'm that guy), and start on "Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates" by Tom Robbins...which has been awesome by the way, and I can wholeheartedly recommend it. Thursday We get off the boat, waiting in customs for over 2 hours since another cruise ship that was supposed to have docked in New Orleans had to come to Galveston instead. So we grab lunch, I run Jenny back to my place to nap for a couple hours, then put her on the plane and meet D. at the office to catch the U of H/Oregon game at Reliant Stadium...which is right next to the Astrodome, for those of you not from Houston. The buses of fugees stretched farther than we could see, and there were easily hundreds of them standing around outside the dome as well. But there was a moment when I heard someone yell, and when I looked down he was running toward a younger girl (I'm guessing his sister) and picked her up, both of them laughing, then crying, then laughing again. I don't have the words to describe that either. And, speaking of my words, I sent an offer to write for a local magazine here in Houston before I left. Apparently they really enjoyed my writing samples, as they've asked me to call them "AS SOON AS YOU GET HOME." So there you go. I'll be sure to let you know, many times over, if I'm published. And now, I'm going to wrap this up, and talk more about the weekend later. Have a nice holiday. j.s.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

The answers to both of your questions are "yes." Yes, I've just now made it home safely to Houston. And yes, I did just sail through a hurricane...for the second time in my life. More to come later... j.s.

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