i feel pretty, and witty, and gay, and i pity anyone who isn't me today
not really. wanna know why? of course you do.
so la blue boy and i went to california for coachella, which is a huge music festival a couple hours from l.a.... when there's no traffic. when there is traffic, and it's friday afternoon, and you're trying to get from eagle rock (los angeles, ca) to coachella (indio, ca) in time to get a tan and scope out the chicks and see this band... it takes five and a half hours.
but coachella in general was worthwhile. i saw rufus wainwright for the first time, and he thrilled me to grinning by saying that he felt "like a faggy frank sinatra." benny benassi proved that even if what he does is fairly worthless, at least he has style when he does it. lily allen assured me that we have no future together by bringing a stable of young, hot men to play horns on stage with her - she obviously takes dick and wants naught to do with me. bjork batted for the other team with a choir of pretty ladies in technicolour robes. manu chao rocked my world with punk reggae - in spanish. and rage against the machine?
was fun. everything else, surprisingly enough, was better. but rage + everything else?
priceless.
and we got to spend time with suede, who remains as suedey as the day i met her, only with a cooler wardrobe. she was kind enough to let us crash on her floor, on her couch, in her bed, and anywhere else two desert-covered texans would fit for the weekend. major props to her roommate for letting us in the house so many times when missy suede was absent or unconscious.
the last day i contracted the cold everyone else was carrying, and promptly shared it with la blue boy. he's almost better. i've gotten over the first bout of sickness and am well into phase 2 (which presents itself as the bronchial plague and manifests every time i get sick or massively allergic).
and then today, on the way to pay rent, my anacharsis decides that her transmission's had it.
"it" being "enough."
"enough" being "the desire to no longer move forward at a speed greater than twenty miles per hour."
so she's at the mechanic. i don't know at what point it becomes silly to fix things in anacharsis. she's only worth $500. so do i say anything up until that amount is okay, but anything over means i should just buy a new car?
meh.
when i got home from the airport, tim greeted me at the door looking positively svelte. i am shamed. i need to get to the gym more often and better employ my time when there.
i shouldn't have worked last night, but i did. i should have worked tonight, but i didn't. i think it balances out. and i got to watch xena and bemoan my sorry state.
so la blue boy and i went to california for coachella, which is a huge music festival a couple hours from l.a.... when there's no traffic. when there is traffic, and it's friday afternoon, and you're trying to get from eagle rock (los angeles, ca) to coachella (indio, ca) in time to get a tan and scope out the chicks and see this band... it takes five and a half hours.
but coachella in general was worthwhile. i saw rufus wainwright for the first time, and he thrilled me to grinning by saying that he felt "like a faggy frank sinatra." benny benassi proved that even if what he does is fairly worthless, at least he has style when he does it. lily allen assured me that we have no future together by bringing a stable of young, hot men to play horns on stage with her - she obviously takes dick and wants naught to do with me. bjork batted for the other team with a choir of pretty ladies in technicolour robes. manu chao rocked my world with punk reggae - in spanish. and rage against the machine?
was fun. everything else, surprisingly enough, was better. but rage + everything else?
priceless.
and we got to spend time with suede, who remains as suedey as the day i met her, only with a cooler wardrobe. she was kind enough to let us crash on her floor, on her couch, in her bed, and anywhere else two desert-covered texans would fit for the weekend. major props to her roommate for letting us in the house so many times when missy suede was absent or unconscious.
the last day i contracted the cold everyone else was carrying, and promptly shared it with la blue boy. he's almost better. i've gotten over the first bout of sickness and am well into phase 2 (which presents itself as the bronchial plague and manifests every time i get sick or massively allergic).
and then today, on the way to pay rent, my anacharsis decides that her transmission's had it.
"it" being "enough."
"enough" being "the desire to no longer move forward at a speed greater than twenty miles per hour."
so she's at the mechanic. i don't know at what point it becomes silly to fix things in anacharsis. she's only worth $500. so do i say anything up until that amount is okay, but anything over means i should just buy a new car?
meh.
when i got home from the airport, tim greeted me at the door looking positively svelte. i am shamed. i need to get to the gym more often and better employ my time when there.
i shouldn't have worked last night, but i did. i should have worked tonight, but i didn't. i think it balances out. and i got to watch xena and bemoan my sorry state.