i went home for lunch yesterday–something i haven’t done in quite some time, as i tend to opt out for lunch: skubway, putnam, the b-market or even an occasional nuggers trip from mcd’s or wendy’s (i’m disgusting, i know.)–and found a lovely surprise in the form of a box waiting on my doorstep. the label on the box? anthropologie. but i haven’t ordered anything, i swear. what could this be? impatient, as i usually am, i brandished my keys and ripped open the box right there on the porch (whoa. i really need to sweep out here.). omg. omg. omg. i’m hyperventilating. mom and dad sent me an early xmas gift:
it isn’t often that i purchase my latest want–what with my overabundance of want and all. but this, i saw and said, “oh. you’re mine.” signed. sealed. delivered.
print liberation :: dgu copper tag chain :: $14 (i know! $14)
print liberation sells some pretty groovy shite. some inspirational. some “damn the man.” some just plain fun. some are a smidge on the political side, so just scroll on by if that’s not your gig.
when i sat down to think about this week’s top 5, it was so painfully obvious who i would feature with tuesday’s release of kid sister’s CD, ultraviolet. ahhh, yes: women who rap. women who produce damn good beats. bad ass women who do their thang (yes, “thang”) without a care.
they (who are they, anyway?) say once you get your first tattoo, fuhgeddaboutit. like flies on shit–wait, that’s a terrible analogy–strike that. reverse it. like poppin’ a pringle, once you start, you just can’t stop. eh. i didn’t believe it. this so-called tattoo addiction must be a farce. it took me 28 years to get this virgo sign inked on the back of my neck (hizzle was in attendance and squirming more than me, i think), i can make it through life without another.
busted for writing on the benches at DA's, local 'toga dive bar.
famous last words, right?
last may, i got my 2nd tattoo at mooncusser in provincetown, mass, with the ex and two of the most amazing women you will ever meet. (hi donner and laura!) it was there i protested, “i only want one more. no, i swear–just one more.”
tired from an early drive to p-town, hence the disheveled appearance.
but now here i am itching for my 3rd (fleur de lis for my cajun heritage) and thinking about the perfect 4th (outline of a dove) and 5th (equality sign). ruh roh.
the andy warhol collection from robert lee morris offers quite a few shiny silver options, if you’re into that sort of thing. i haven’t been the biggest fan of sterling silver lately–maybe because i wore the shit out of it in high school. but this? this, i need.
robert lee morris for andy warhol :: $129
inscription reads, "i never met an animal i didn't like" a.w.
(for whatever reason, this little guy isn’t available on the robert lee morris site. but you can find it at ruelala.com. hurry, though. that stuff sells out very, very quickly. if you’re not a member of the glorious rue la la and want to become one, let me know. i’ll invite ya.)
6:30 p.m. in the hotel lobby. hello, mister president. why yes, i’d love a stella. 7 p.m. let’s walk. still drizzling. thankfully wearing “the” hat in preparation for this weather. run down (or is it “up?”) 36th street in heels. dodge angry drivers. arrive at skyline studios for inaugural clio healthcare awards. acquire badges. greeted by waiter wielding tiny shots that look like urine samples. tastes, i presume, much better than urine. best greeting ever. meet folks. shake hands. shuffle to the bar. take in the sights. lap around the place. more hellos and nice to meet yous. chat up fella from sister agency in irvine. more shot-wielding waiters–this time, pomegranate something or other in little syringes. oh, who’s that beautiful woman? play with motion graphics. weird. more bar shuffling. get grub. meet a few good chicagoans while shoveling cheese and cracker in my mouth. awesome. chew, chew, chew. speak. enamored by one. smile. laugh. shamelessly flirt. play mexican wrestling game. get arse kicked. her turn to play with the motion graphics. more bar shuffling. more hellos and nice to meet yous. admire work. more chatting. more flirting. time to hear the winners. holy crap! we won a silver lady! pose with the lady.
me with a certain silver lady
congratulate winners. attempt to eat more than just one cracker with cheese. more chatting with her. keynote speaker time. whoa. it’s oprah’sdr. oz. notice the name of our city is misspelled on the plaque. neat. it’s saratoga, not sarasota. geesh. one more bar shuffle. more chatter. then a disappearing act from the girl. ugh. women. i guess they can’t all be like miss clio.
i took the morning off work today to get my stuff together before heading into NYC for the inaugural clio healtchare awards. after futzing around on the ‘puter (’twas necessary to write that music post, yo), i left no time for myself to work out as planned nor did i deliver as promised one black, fluffy kidun to his 2nd home. instead, hizzle and robby will schedule a pick up. (as always, i owe you two my life.)
time to go. first, 2 stops: ATM and wendy’s nuggers (don’t judge me). speedy gonzales my way to the train station. hustle inside. 10 minutes to spare, whew. shit, where’s my phone? in the car. race back to the car. grab the phone. race back inside. oh wait, what’s this? train’s late. breathe. 20 minute delay turns into an hour. finally board. plop down. open my book, push. read, read and read. man yapping loudly behind me, “what do you mean the GPS says 8:30? did you type it wrong? that’s not right. it only takes 3 hours. i don’t understand …” blah, blah, blah. please, for the love of all that is good shut your trap. where are my earbuds? he ends his call. thank jeebus. read, read, read. ooh, beer. cafe car. heineken light and uh, sure, pretzels. why not? mmm, good beer. thank you, amtrak. yonkers. cafe car’s closed. good timing. finish reading. great book. inspired. saddened. broken hearted. i now need many beers to shake the image of precious’s pain. hello, penn station. i love this city. gather my things. exit at 31st street. hotel’s at 341 w. 36th street. i can walk. it’s raining. ugh. i still love this city. knew i brought “the” hat for a reason. ok, i’m near 341 w. 34th street. where’s the hotel? is this a joke? oh, right. 36th street, dummy. 2 more blocks. hello there, pretty lady–how you doin’? loving this city more and more. turn up 36th street. hotel. i’m here. check in. one hour until we meet in lobby. gives me just enough time to take off my pants and enjoy a pre-show cocktail.
earlier this week, i droned on in a post about my ears being blessed with the sweet sound of william fitzsimmons. from there, a twitter exchange began between myself and two other ladies, janey and mia, a blogger, writer and interview-extraordinaire for all things music, tattoos and lesbians (read some of her interviews and hilarious quips here: afterellen.com and chicagonow.com — am i missing any?)
what i found out during this exchange: apparently, i have a penchant for bearded men. and thus, this week’s top 5 bearded beasts of wanderlust was born.
i would be remiss to not include the legendary joe cocker. my absolute number 1 of his, is delta lady. in fact, if ever my buds and i step inside the infamous dive bar tin-n-lint here in ‘toga (THE very spot where don mclean wrote american pie. no foolin’.), i MUST play this song on the jukebox. if someone threatens to leave before it plays, all hell breaks loose. viva el cocker!
(come on, you obvy knew i’d include him.) jolene was my initiation into ray. it is what made me fall madly in musical love with him, and i will never forget how it hit me right in the ticker with such a powerful thud. i mean, who writes this beautifully? “a man needs something he can hold onto / a 9-lb hammer / or a woman like you / either one of them things will do.” STOP IT.
this song really needs no explanation. maybe it’s the emotion behind his voice, maybe it’s just the incredible way he manages to soothe a broken heart. all i know is that i play it over and over and over and …
i posted this song before, i know. but yes it’s so good, it deserves a double-take. when i think of schneider, i think of home. and i think of her. but mostly, i think about how much life–even at 31–is left to live. this song just manages to keep my head above water, and there are many days when i need that as much as leo needs to drop boonies in eli’s box immediately upon arrival at aunt carey and uncle robby’s.
if i would be remiss not to include joe cocker, i would be a bloody fool to leave out the man, chris robinson. this beauty of a song makes me want to lie down in the warm summer grass and make out between sips of beer.
if ever there was an article of clothing i couldn’t live without, it would–without any hint of doubt–be the t-shirt. solid, burn out, embellished with graphics, v-neck, crew neck, slouchy, pocket, no pocket, whatever. as long as it’s buttery soft, and i dig it, the t-shirt is all i need.
i thought this obsession of mine began with the alphabet t’s via urban outfitters from a few years ago (my favorites: “g is for gangsta” and “s is for shorty”–both of which i owned), but after looking through the few baby pictures i managed to finagle away from my mother, every 3rd one or so shows me in a t-shirt. a-ha! see, mom. it is all your fault.
i’m glad to say i never grew out of the t-shirt craze, but i am a tad embarrassed to admit my taste has grown grotesquely more expensive. after i lost an ebay battle (jumped up to $200 FOR A T-SHIRT) for a free city super shop t-shirt designed for the uh huh her CD release, i haven’t stopped searching for that sucker–hoping above all hopes another will re-appear at a fraction of the cost. so far, nada.
in the meantime, i will continue to ogle many a tee, yet purchase only a few. must not be greedy.
my new love.
free city super shop :: artists wanted :: $75
the captain jack will get you high tonight, right hizzle?
shopbop :: monrow :: union jack :: $79.80 (on sale, ladies)
honestly can’t have enough white tees. burn out, too? double bonus. oh, and notice the placement of her tattoo. WANT.
alternative apparel :: burnout v neck :: $38
fuck yeah.
palmer cash :: ames bros :: get off :: $26.97
although this has the potential to be overly slouchy pour moi, i can’t get enough of this perfect specimen.
modcloth :: owl-t and about :: $57.99
yellow is a pretty horrific color on me, but this is too rad not to want.
today is veterans day–a day to remember those who defend our freedom, our honor, our rights, our country. i’m not one to argue against days of remembrance, so today, i remember you.
i don’t remember what unit you were in (are they called units in the USMC?) or where you were stationed during WWII and the korean war. i know you were a fighter pilot (i hope dad will let me have your bad ass jacket one day), and i know you were a drill sergeant (were you anything like r. lee ermey?). but i have no idea what you saw, what it was like being away from your wife and sons for so long, or what it meant to you to serve in the USMC for so many years. you died when i was 10 and grandma followed you into the dark 4 years later, so i was never blessed with your stories, nor do i know if the memories were too traumatic to share.
what i do remember is how you impacted my life.
i remember coloring pictures for you and grandma until my hands cramped from that GIANT coloring book using my prized, yellow 64-piece box of crayola crayons (i was OBSESSED with the built-in sharpener. remember?) and the pride i got from seeing my finished work on display. i remember leaping into your arms without any reservation the moment i saw you. i remember admiring your patience as you stared at the train section of the toy aisle in toys-r-us, while grandma waited for me to pick out a toy (cabbage patch, please). i remember how, despite the pain of your aging body, you laid on the floor with me for hours, playing with the fisher price little people, my little ponies and barbie. i remember feeling like such a grown-up when you lent me recorded audio tapes of rodgers & hammerstein, war of the worlds and others i can’t recall.
but mostly i’ll never forget how you smiled around me–like you were finally at peace with life and in that moment everything made sense. i only hope i make you proud and that i can instill in my life half the love and patience you gave me.
thank you, grandpa, for spoiling me with extra glasses of chocolate milk, another scoop of ice cream and for never being afraid to love. and thank you, robert louis murphy, for serving our country.
