Icing is Not a Food Group: 10/01/2005

This is How Rednecks Do It

This is Josh, and what he is pointing to would be some missing hair. The accused would be sitting next to him. At a rather early point in the evening, there was some hand holding of bottle rockets and shooting them at one another. Josh's sideburn got caught in the crossfire.

When the alcohol kicked in, there was a massive hunt for any item that would induce major explosions (i.e., spray paint, PAM®, ether, liquid Drano® and aluminum foil (WTF? Who's heard of that?)). I recorded some of it, but unfortunately, I'm not techno savvy enough to put it on here.

There was also a point in which we were all gathered around the fire and someone thought they were throwing a bag of trash into the fire. A few seconds later, fireworks were shooting out in every direction while everyone scrambled to get to their feet and run. Seemingly, he just stood there and laughed. SWEARS he thought is was "just a bag of trash."

More Rob, Less Vagina Cracking

Lace

The Signs of Fall

The neighbor's cat...he helped.

Dear God, I think I'm racist.

I know that I am. I cannot stand people who work in customer service and cannot speak the fucking language. Whether they are white, black, Hispanic, or middle eastern, it just drives me batty. If I have to spell out Memphis because you have begun it with M-I or you ask me to repeat my "suit number," I'm going to get irritated. When I say the name Grider and you keep repeating it as "GiRder," I'm going to verify your spelling because you are saying it wrong AFTER you heard me say it THREE times. Just stop that. When I tell you that our mutual client has recently passed away and you ask to speak with him, I'm going to sigh a great deal. Did you hear me, lady? If I try to verify a payoff for an account to PAY YOU and you tell me that I'm unauthorized to know that information as I'm reading it, you're going to cause my blood to boil.

Testing

And who better to experiment with, I say.

So It Was Fun While It Lasted

My computer had to be "reimaged." And while I hoped and prayed I could keep everything on my computer, I knew better. The software that I used to post pictures is now gone. So, I tried to reinstall, and the website is blocked.

I think I may cry. It's going to be a ZILLION times harder to post pictures the way that I liked to do them. It was just a simple click, and now I have to screw with HTML which I'm not a huge fan of. Oh, the pain.

Smile Empty Soul, Lead Singer

There's a Reason You Need Front Row

Flyleaf...

(Lacy is the green blur on the left.)

Come As You Are

I have finally been reading Kurt Cobain's Journals, a book I have owned for possibly more than a year and never actually read. Parts of it are sad, and what led me to pick it up, is random. I was reading about this new (to me) band that opened for Cold. They are a pretty heavy band with a girl as their lead singer. She is maybe five feet tall and 105 pounds, but her vocal ability is astounding. She has the most beautiful voice and then she can SCREAM with such rage. I just fell in love with her. The band's name is called Flyleaf (also here). I bought their CD that night. I met Lacy, Jared (guitar), and the drummer, James. The drummer kind of stole the show. For some reason, he makes these really odd, pained facial expressions, often stressing his tongue. He borders on looking mentally challenged. It's quite comical, I assure you. But either way, I started searching them on the internet. Due to their official home page giving my computer problems, I opted to peruse their myspace page, where I started reading commentary. One of the posters had a picture of Kurt Cobain and the "conspiracy" of his death. So, of course, curiosity led to several websites about his death and possible homicide. Reading about Kurt kind of twists my heart. Part of me still wants to cry. I wasn't a HUGE, die hard fan, but yes, I walked through my high school with an illicit CD player blasting Nirvana (and lots of Pearl Jam). So after about an hour reading up on him, I pulled out his Journals and started with that. I'm a terribly impatient person, so it's usually really hard on me to sit and just read something longer than 2-3 pages. But I'm about half way through the book now, and I do plan on buying more books about him. He's fascinating to me. I copied this excerpt out of the journal because I literally started laughing out loud. This writing is probably funnier to me because I've done nearly the same thing. So, I'll leave with you with it.

"I defrosted the icebox with a hammer. Hours later, Tracy noticed an awfully powerful fume & so we thought it was Freon. So we got the animals outside & the fumes became so bad that we couldn't go in there at all. It started to burn our skin & so we stayed next door for 1 night & in Tacoma the 2nd night & turns out it wasn't Freon but even more of a deadly gas called sulfur dioxide. It's like if you were to fill a bucket of bleach and ammonia & tie someone's face to it. I left a butterscotch Swiss Miss® pudding out over night & it turned bright fluorescent green. So don't beat your icebox with a hammer.

I talked to Jesse again. He's not getting a divorce anymore, instead
he's buying more credit cards."

(Love his randomness.)

Um...Yum

If Only

Fucking Awesome: The Money Shot

So, yes, I saw them. Yes, I was front row. Yes, I loved them. Yes, I got my camera smuggled in via a slightly protruding bulge in my pants. NO, I didn’t set off the metal detector, though you should have seen my face when they were scanning me. As the wand was waved past my hips & swept to the floor, I slowly started to feel relief. The security guy says to me, “Oh, look she can smile.” Seconds before, I could barely keep my shit together. I was too chicken shit to ask if cameras were allowed in. When I contacted the joint earlier in the week, they told me no, but that, that could change. They ended up being allowed, but I certainly didn’t know that going in. Otherwise, I would have brought the “lesbian size camera,” as my aunt has dubbed it.

This band is COLD. They put on a really good show, but used way too many strobe lights, which makes it so incredibly difficult to take good pictures. There was so much light and color, I had to use black and white, which came out really well. I got the playlist off the stage, a guitar pick, and shook Scooter Ward’s hand.

Not too shabby. And yes, I think I rock now.

Venting

Since when does a ROCK concert ban cameras? That bitch will be buried in my crotch because I do not do venues without my camera. Damn it. It's a rock concert, not a play.

I also know that this place is going to use hand metal detectors, which means my belt is going to have to warrant a lot of metal under the ruse that "It must be my belt, Mr. Security Guard." And if he doesn't go for that, I'm not above lying and saying I've got my girl pierced.

My First Experience with the "Corn Maze"

Yeah, that thingy was about as creepy (read: scary) as it got. The group I was with didn't even notice this thing until I took a picture of it, which really highlights that whole egg sack thing.

Ick.

This is What it's Like to Fall in Love

I sometimes don't think I am capable of expressing enough love or appreciation for music. I was sitting in a coworker's office when a song came on by Better Than Ezra, my best friend's most favorite band. And while I've always felt like BTE was an okay band, I have to say there are some lyrics that just make me melt in a song called Lifetime.

"And you move like water. I could drown in you."

And because I have always loved writing, I am often drawn to lyrics. I have so much admiration for people who can express themselves, especially when they are multi-talented and have the ability to put beautiful music behind their words.

That moment, right there, when I hear those words sung just so, that is what music is to me. A perfect, nearly magical moment.