The United Hates of America: September 2006

I Saw You

You: 25-30 y.o. WM Grad Student reading/chatting outside Alderman Library. Brown hair, brown shoes, khaki slacks, tweed blazer, smoking a pipe at 10:30 in the morning. FYI, you look like a prick.

About Last Night

While I can't be sure, because I forget most of it, I think last night was pretty much perfect.

Announcing the Announcement

So this Tuesday, as in tomorrow, promises to be fantastic, as we'll be making it so. Mikey B and I have slaved, oh how we've slaved, over planning "The Greatest Pre-Flaming Lips Concert Progressive That Charlottesville Has Ever Seen." Our intricately detailed agenda looks something like this:

3-3:30 begin convening at the Nice Jenkins house. Nothing gets lit on fire yet since some people have day jobs and I can't make it til 5 or so
5-5:30 start lighting shit on fire and drinking heavily at the Nice Jenkins house. This will mark the official start of TGPFLCPCHES
5:30-6 move on to Beth/Stanley's house. Drink more. Light more stuff on fire.
6-6:30 move on to Matt/Ryan/Dana's house. See above.
6:30-7 move on to Mike's house. See above. Again.
7 arrive at concert sufficiently inebriated and enjoy what is sure to be a fantastic show

So there you have it. We're not quite sure how many people to expect but it'd be great if each house could provide some sort of drink(s), preferably served on fire, suggestions can be found here, or pretty much anywhere else on the interweb. Barring that, at least have some beer available or something, lest we decide to burn your house down, all in the spirit of the event of course. And if you don't live at one of these houses then get on board anyway and come bearing gifts or coordinate with one house or something. Please send the good word along to anyone who likes a) the Flaming Lips b) drinking and c) not being lame.

New Neighbor

You live in my shed. I kinda wish you were tame and lived inside.

More With the Mush

Once you've been totally spoiled by all things vacation, love, and goodness-related, it's hard to transition back to the real world and people expecting you to actually "do things" and "be responsible." I was having some difficulty getting too excited for this weekend since I was so excited for last weekend and this time all I have to look forward to is the influx of UVA alumni who just cant.quite.let.go of the glory that is wearing tacky clothes, drinking until you puke, yelling homophobic slogans, and generally acting like an asshole all in the name of college football. That was, until, this lovely one announced not only that he'd be visiting C-Ville on the company's dime, but that this momentous event will take place in one week, no less. So.Fucking.Excited. And for this weekend now too. Cause I've got so much too look forward to.

I Already Knew I Grossed Me Out. Now It's Your Turn!

I have no self control when it comes to food. For real. This is why I honestly can't keep anything sweet and delicious in my kitchen lest I gorge myself on whateveritisohmygodIdon'tcarejustfeedmenow the first night after purchase and am then forced to feel regretful and guilty, and quite possibly be ultimately compelled to use a machine next to GCG at the gym for the entire next week.

Since there was nothing legitimately sweet in my kitchen back in college, I remember allaying cravings by melting Smart Balance on a Wasa crisp bread and then sprinkling Splenda and cinnamon on top. I know right.

These days I don't deny myself everything but I still can't justify keeping cookies or ice cream around with any frequency. I always tell myself I'd just eat one Hershey's nugget an evening if I bought the bag but somehow I inevitably wind up with 15 wrappers in front of me at the end of each of the two whole days the package lasts. This is unless, of course, the chocolate in question is some of that supa bitter Lindt chocolate that your boyfriend bought you one time after you professed your love for all things dark chocolate and which is just oh.my.god. so bitter and which, for real, thank you so much for that honey it was so thoughtful, but the part where I told you I liked it? yeah I lied, and I could eat no more than like 1/4th a square bi-weekly. Then again, hello, tis gone all the same.

Usually when there's nothing around I can make due with a cup of sweet tea or a piece of fruit, but this evening I still had a savior in the form of one last diet pudding cup. After even that (surprise!) didn't quench the urge, it was time for desperate measures. Frozen bananas are super sugary and more delicious than you might remember, but fruit alone does nothing for my chocoholism. That's when the magic shell comes in. I had it leftover from my adventures in ice cream cake-ing and had kind of forgotten about it (see: lack of ice cream in the house) until a light bulb totally went off in my head today in terms of pairing the two. Once you get over the fact that if your forget to shake up the magic shell first it totally just pours out nasty oil which ruins your banana half and forces you to get a new bowl since your old one is now so greasy and gross and eww? it's totally a delightful dessert.

Blargh.

I was so excited when we finally had the opportunity to put in an offer for a Ted Leo show at the Ballroom. I have been just itching to get him in the room ever since I started not only because I'm a fan but also because I think he's exactly the kind of artist that would work perfectly in the space. We've been contacting his agent for over a year now just asking for an opportunity to potentially host a show, so when we finally got that chance we went above and beyond what he asked for knowing not only that Ted Leo was worth as much but also that we really.freaking.wanted.this.show. Without asking for a revised offer we heard from the agent today that they'd decided to go elsewhere and were bummed. But wait! Ted Leo shall play C-Ville! Get your tickets here.

Thinking, That's All

Leaving Houston was a bit like emerging from a dream (a dream where Steve Irwin is still alive, mind you). Everything there was a bit surreal—maybe because I’d built it up for so long in my head, or maybe because the way events unfolded far exceeded the expectations I’d concocted in even my best-case, fairy tale scenario. Some things run like clockwork and this was one. Not just the trip itself but us. Yes, there were approximately 3 minutes when things weren’t perfect: 150 seconds of my being pissy over forgetting to bring my make up bag to the beach and 30 seconds of Jeremy’s being pissy over the Houston DMV equivalent being dumb fucks. And yes Houston was much as it was described to me--that is, my boyfriend being far and away the best thing there, the humidity and sprawl (oh god the sprawl) being the worst. But it was still just about the best trip of all time and I am just about the luckiest girl in the world.