(no subject)
I drove to Freeport yesterday. I must note, in case any of you get directions from my father, Freeport is not "out past Seminole". Yes, it is further to the right of me than Seminole. But by many towns. Out past Seminole is a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad direction, and my cell phone had no reception and I feel so incredibly stupid and sad when I have to ask directions because I'm always right where I meant to be so I was crying a little and sure I was going to end up in Tallahasee because I'm stuborn.
But Freeport is just past Portland. So things got better.
I went to Freeport to go to a Spinning Guild Meeting. I'll not go into details ere because I've a whole nother blog for that sort of thing, but I had fun. And then I found my way to Seaside all by myself, sans crying.
On the whole, I hate Seaside. I hate how it looks and most of the people there and that my father had any part in crafting those hideous things people pay too much to stay in and you can't go on the beach and it makes me want to sunbathe naked right outside someone's back door.
I love the book store, and record store, and the little market that had my mango salsa. Mango Salsa and Chuck Klosterman books and 7 different Tom Waits CDs = love. The rest can fuck right off.
I bought a CD. Lost Highway, The Music of The Band.
I enjoy most of it. Jack Johnson is good, Guster do the AbFab theme, Gomex surprised me by not being as bad as I usually think they are, My Mornign Jacket, Rosanne Cash, Guster, Jakob Dylan, Deathcab, all good. I have a bit of an issue with The Roches version of Acadian Driftwood. Or maybe I have an issue with Acadian Driftwood. I'll have to dig out my vinyl to settle that, though.
But. But but but but but. BUT. Lee Ann Womack? KILLS The Weight DEAD. Who let her near that song? Really? Because I need to punch them in the face. With a tire.
Oh. And then I drove home.
But Freeport is just past Portland. So things got better.
I went to Freeport to go to a Spinning Guild Meeting. I'll not go into details ere because I've a whole nother blog for that sort of thing, but I had fun. And then I found my way to Seaside all by myself, sans crying.
On the whole, I hate Seaside. I hate how it looks and most of the people there and that my father had any part in crafting those hideous things people pay too much to stay in and you can't go on the beach and it makes me want to sunbathe naked right outside someone's back door.
I love the book store, and record store, and the little market that had my mango salsa. Mango Salsa and Chuck Klosterman books and 7 different Tom Waits CDs = love. The rest can fuck right off.
I bought a CD. Lost Highway, The Music of The Band.
I enjoy most of it. Jack Johnson is good, Guster do the AbFab theme, Gomex surprised me by not being as bad as I usually think they are, My Mornign Jacket, Rosanne Cash, Guster, Jakob Dylan, Deathcab, all good. I have a bit of an issue with The Roches version of Acadian Driftwood. Or maybe I have an issue with Acadian Driftwood. I'll have to dig out my vinyl to settle that, though.
But. But but but but but. BUT. Lee Ann Womack? KILLS The Weight DEAD. Who let her near that song? Really? Because I need to punch them in the face. With a tire.
Oh. And then I drove home.