bits and baubles
Hi. This post is brought to you by the desire *not* to do laundry or dishes. And by our old friends boredom, ego, and sarcasm.
So, since I have nothing worthwhile to contribute...no dazzlingly astute observations about politics or the space program or oil in the Arctic, I'll just default to what I do best, and what LiveJournal is for, incidentally: I'll talk about me and my little life. Any little pieces I can think of since the last info-containing post.
Oh, I've got one. The Friday before last, which some of you may remember as the Night of the Living Company Picnic, I ended up going to The Blind Pig to see Caribou, who I found out were playing only hours before the show, thanks to a tip from a courteous co-worker. The show was so good; they really blew me away. I wasn't expecting them to present the way they did at all -- a bunch of dudes huddled up on the tiny stage, crammed into what little space was afforded them by the dominating drum kits (Yes, plural; there were two.), everyone playing an equal role in bringing the songs to life; it wasn't just Dan Snaith's show with the other members serving as session players at all, which is what I was expecting. They played "She's the One" and "Melody Day" and both just sounded amazing. I love last-minute good things like that! Big ups to Dana for deciding to go, too (and thus giving me a ride).
The other highlight of that weekend was seeing The Dark Knight, which despite all the hype, was actually pretty excellent. I say despite the hype because most of the time when people completely lose their shit over some film and have absolutely no criticisms to offer whatsoever, there is some outward force influencing their opinion and what they're offering in place of a review is really more like sycophantic adoration. In this case, for Heath Ledger. At least that's what I took the glowing reviews for. But no, it honestly is quite good.
Oh man, now I'm going to tell you a story that you're probably just not going to find as awesome as I do, and I won't blame you. Okay, I mean, I will probably judge you a little and rank you lower on my internal friend-worthiness scale, but I won't *blame* you! Teehee. Anyway.
So yesterday was a day of extreme boredom and sedentariness, aside from my adventures in public transit and eye-doctor appointments, which I will expound upon later if you're lucky enough. So round about five, I decide to cruise on down to a yard sale happening a few blocks up the street from me. I end up spending $8 and come away with a book, a pair of what turned out to be very comfortable jeans (the only size 12 in a sea of 9s and 16s and 18s), a pursey bag-thing, a hair dryer to replace the poor, sick one I'd been using, some little black flats (aka: shoes with no heel) that had never been worn, and...and...a pair of burgundy mary janes!!
Right, and at this point you are saying to yourself some variation on "Big freaking whoop, Amanda." And this of course is the part where I don't-blame-but-secretly-judge you. Now here are some extra details, which may or may not help you to understand my use of italics over a pair of shoes.
You see, I had up until very recently owned a pair of shoes EXACTLY like the burgundy mary janes in question. The only difference is the brand, but the style and color -- down to the unique-looking silver buckle on the side -- are identical. Identical! In my whole 8 years of owning those shoes, I NEVER saw another pair like them. EVER! They were one of my favorites, evidenced by the fact that I insisted on continuing to wear them even though the soles were badly beaten and they'd gone way past being what one might call "comfortable." Still, I endured, combating discomfort with insoles and willpower, until...well, until my cat peed in them. SHE PEED IN MY SHOES! I was completely offended. I told myself I'd soak them in Nature's Miracle to get them wearable again, but in all honesty, I wasn't too keen on the thought of wearing a pair of old peed-on shoes. Old shoes are one thing, old peed-on shoes quite another, and so they'd been languishing in my closet ever since the incident, much to my chagrin. They would probably have stayed in there forever, just so I could keep telling myself that one day I would get them fixed up and wearable again, but really...yeah. That most likely wasn't going to happen. But now...now I have them back in pristine, pee-free form, and as a bonus, they appear muchmuchmuch less worn than my previous pair. And I only paid a dollar for them. It's a shoe miracle, I tell you. A shoe miracle!
So yeah, I was a little excited by that.
Okay, this entry already feels 12 years long, so I'm not gonna go into the previously mentioned adventures in public transit and eye-doctor appointments much (it really wasn't too exciting), but I will post this picture I took at the eye doctor while trying to decide between two pairs of glasses. These are the pair that won the battle, so if you hate them do not tell me, for I have already ordered them and will be forced to kick you in the leg.
Please ignore the little sticker-guy on the one lens....
I tried to LJ-cut that, but it didn't want to work, so I am letting it have its way. The frames are a mild green, but that's kind of hard to see in this crappy phone pic.
Man. You know two people who are even lazier than I am? Camilla and Theo. They've both been lying in the same spots for about two hours now, and both seem completely uninterested in rectifying this situation any time soon. Indeed, they don't seem to think there's a thing wrong with it. Darn shiftless felines. They make me feel pretty active by comparison, though.
So, since I have nothing worthwhile to contribute...no dazzlingly astute observations about politics or the space program or oil in the Arctic, I'll just default to what I do best, and what LiveJournal is for, incidentally: I'll talk about me and my little life. Any little pieces I can think of since the last info-containing post.
Oh, I've got one. The Friday before last, which some of you may remember as the Night of the Living Company Picnic, I ended up going to The Blind Pig to see Caribou, who I found out were playing only hours before the show, thanks to a tip from a courteous co-worker. The show was so good; they really blew me away. I wasn't expecting them to present the way they did at all -- a bunch of dudes huddled up on the tiny stage, crammed into what little space was afforded them by the dominating drum kits (Yes, plural; there were two.), everyone playing an equal role in bringing the songs to life; it wasn't just Dan Snaith's show with the other members serving as session players at all, which is what I was expecting. They played "She's the One" and "Melody Day" and both just sounded amazing. I love last-minute good things like that! Big ups to Dana for deciding to go, too (and thus giving me a ride).
The other highlight of that weekend was seeing The Dark Knight, which despite all the hype, was actually pretty excellent. I say despite the hype because most of the time when people completely lose their shit over some film and have absolutely no criticisms to offer whatsoever, there is some outward force influencing their opinion and what they're offering in place of a review is really more like sycophantic adoration. In this case, for Heath Ledger. At least that's what I took the glowing reviews for. But no, it honestly is quite good.
Oh man, now I'm going to tell you a story that you're probably just not going to find as awesome as I do, and I won't blame you. Okay, I mean, I will probably judge you a little and rank you lower on my internal friend-worthiness scale, but I won't *blame* you! Teehee. Anyway.
So yesterday was a day of extreme boredom and sedentariness, aside from my adventures in public transit and eye-doctor appointments, which I will expound upon later if you're lucky enough. So round about five, I decide to cruise on down to a yard sale happening a few blocks up the street from me. I end up spending $8 and come away with a book, a pair of what turned out to be very comfortable jeans (the only size 12 in a sea of 9s and 16s and 18s), a pursey bag-thing, a hair dryer to replace the poor, sick one I'd been using, some little black flats (aka: shoes with no heel) that had never been worn, and...and...a pair of burgundy mary janes!!
Right, and at this point you are saying to yourself some variation on "Big freaking whoop, Amanda." And this of course is the part where I don't-blame-but-secretly-judge you. Now here are some extra details, which may or may not help you to understand my use of italics over a pair of shoes.
You see, I had up until very recently owned a pair of shoes EXACTLY like the burgundy mary janes in question. The only difference is the brand, but the style and color -- down to the unique-looking silver buckle on the side -- are identical. Identical! In my whole 8 years of owning those shoes, I NEVER saw another pair like them. EVER! They were one of my favorites, evidenced by the fact that I insisted on continuing to wear them even though the soles were badly beaten and they'd gone way past being what one might call "comfortable." Still, I endured, combating discomfort with insoles and willpower, until...well, until my cat peed in them. SHE PEED IN MY SHOES! I was completely offended. I told myself I'd soak them in Nature's Miracle to get them wearable again, but in all honesty, I wasn't too keen on the thought of wearing a pair of old peed-on shoes. Old shoes are one thing, old peed-on shoes quite another, and so they'd been languishing in my closet ever since the incident, much to my chagrin. They would probably have stayed in there forever, just so I could keep telling myself that one day I would get them fixed up and wearable again, but really...yeah. That most likely wasn't going to happen. But now...now I have them back in pristine, pee-free form, and as a bonus, they appear muchmuchmuch less worn than my previous pair. And I only paid a dollar for them. It's a shoe miracle, I tell you. A shoe miracle!
So yeah, I was a little excited by that.
Okay, this entry already feels 12 years long, so I'm not gonna go into the previously mentioned adventures in public transit and eye-doctor appointments much (it really wasn't too exciting), but I will post this picture I took at the eye doctor while trying to decide between two pairs of glasses. These are the pair that won the battle, so if you hate them do not tell me, for I have already ordered them and will be forced to kick you in the leg.
Please ignore the little sticker-guy on the one lens....
I tried to LJ-cut that, but it didn't want to work, so I am letting it have its way. The frames are a mild green, but that's kind of hard to see in this crappy phone pic.
Man. You know two people who are even lazier than I am? Camilla and Theo. They've both been lying in the same spots for about two hours now, and both seem completely uninterested in rectifying this situation any time soon. Indeed, they don't seem to think there's a thing wrong with it. Darn shiftless felines. They make me feel pretty active by comparison, though.