It’s Friday — let’s listen to some music. I discovered IVY in 2000-2001 when I was going through a decidedly earnest semi-raver downtempo/chillout phase and used to pull songs I liked off movie soundtracks and Ibiza party compilation CDs.
I got hooked on Dominique Durand’s whispery, French-tinted voice and Adam Schlesinger’s pop sensibilities (same Adam as in Fountains Of Wayne, whom I love), so the band kind of stuck with me. I’ve got every album and I saw them live when they played the Casbah in 2005 with Astaire (now called blondfire, who I also dig).
I’m getting kind of excited to take photos again. I’m not sure why, if it’s the prospect of introducing myself to a new city or if I just feel the need to be creative in a different way, but I really miss using that D80 that was loaned to me by Nikon in 2007/2008. Looking at some of the photos I took back then makes me wish I was still doing it.
They’re not all brilliant, but I think I have a knack for it — granted, I have no idea what 80% of the buttons and dials do and I wouldn’t know my aperture from my elbow, but I really want to learn. The D80 was pretty sweet, but I definitely don’t want something that big again — it was kind of a beast. Took awesome photos, but way more camera than I needed. It kinda hurt my neck, actually. But I definitely want something more than point n’ shoot.
Las Vegas is just ripe for the picking in terms of imagery that I would love to take photos of — vintage neon, old school Vegas, mid-century and/or totally over the top style, tourists in bad outfits… the list goes on and on.
Most folks have been telling me to get a Nikon D50 or a Canon Rebel. So, I’m starting my perusal of cameras… window shopping, if you will. Santa may be bringing one down the chimney this year.
So, here’s something novel: I went out to run errands, forgot my phone and was incapable of alerting people of my whereabouts. I know, the horror, right? But… but… how will anyone know I’m at the gas station? How will they go on without knowing I’m buying coffee creamer? How did the world spin before Foursquare?!
But, one good thing about not having my Twitter or Foursquare handy? Blog fodder, yo. I’d forgotten that’s how it works. And naturally, the one time I forget to bring my phone, the following occur:
I taste a delicious, awesome spicy pork taco… at a car wash minimart.
A fat kid holding a cardboard sign that reads “I em hongry” eats a McDonald’s cheeseburger and asks me for a dollar.
I am accosted by a deflating wacky, wailing, inflatable, arm-flailing tube man.
An engine ignites, catching a man’s crotch ablaze which he subsequently tries to put out with a slushy.
I am solicited to pay for the funeral of someone I don’t know because they already sold his gold teeth and still don’t have enough.
An unarmed assailant in short pants unleashes a scourge of apples in the frozen food aisle.
So yeah, only one of these things is not true I’m sorry to say. Or not sorry, depending on how you look at it… because if I’d had my phone, I totally would have blown this whole post in a series of annoying tweets.
The song “I Love Paris” has been forever ruined for me by the Meg Ryan film, “French Kiss“. I cannot sing that song without compulsively adding “… because my love is theeeeere… with this slut girlfriend.” Thank you, Hollywood, for ruining that for me.
I may have mentioned this before, but I get the total heavies when I use a public restroom and the seat is still warm from the person before. How long was that person sitting there that it they warmed up the seat? Were they writing a book? Save it for home, sister. No crapping in Target. Unacceptable. Next stall.
Those ‘wacky, wailing, inflatable, arm-flailing tube men’ used by car washes and Radio Shacks to get people’s attention? Yeah, I hate those. Like hate those. I can’t look at them for too long; I must avert my eyes. Some people are afraid of clowns, though I think that’s pretty cliche now. I don’t know one person who says, “Oh, yeah, man! I love me some CLOWN!” Unless, they’re like Juggalos or something. I can legitimately say these things unnerve me. I won’t pee my pants or run down the block or anything, but I definitely would prefer they not exist.
I have 32 cookbooks, including mixology books (for cocktails). I don’t know that I’ve ever cooked one thing out of them. Maybe some cookies… but I always have these great plans to cook my way through various cookbooks, but really, I’d rather read the recipes than actually cook them. Cookbooks without pictures are lame. This one is my favorite.
And finally, I don’t like warm carrots or fresh green beans, in general. Spicy carrots, sure. But not hot, or warm. Or, at least, I’ve never had a warm carrot I was particularly fond of. I can eat raw carrots all day, but warm it up and I’m out. Green beans are hit and miss for me. If they’re fried and served with wasabi ranch like at Mo’s? Hell yes. But that kind of negates the purpose of a vegetable. I do like them canned, which I realize these days is a big no-no what with all the creepies in canned foods and sodium out the wazoo, but I just prefer the canned ones. Fresh ones are like eating pipe cleaners. Furry veg fail.