omg this weekend, you guys...

I had the best weekend ever! (last weekend of course. Sorry for the delay in posting)

But before I get to that I would like to share something with you.

I am a voicemail pack rat. It's hard not to be when you have friends like Kat and Chelsea and Eric that leave you ridiculous voicemails that you can't bear to part with. The trouble is, I save so many of them that my mailbox fills up, like a lot. All the time. My actually mailbox is kind of like that too. But only because I hate opening mail.

When I was little I used to love getting mail. I'd get Highlights or something and I was like, "OMG I JUST MAIL!!" Imagine how excited I was when AOL first came out. You know, "You've got mail." Holla!

Anyway I hate mail now. It makes giant piles and I dread digging through all of it. But voicemails I save cause they're too funny not to.

So, my voicemail inbox has been full for...we're probably going on a few days now. I went through the three new ones and erased them. I didn't have room for much else, apparently. And because of that fact, I decided to do a little house/phone/voicemail cleaning. End of summer closeout, if you will.

Among all sorts of good stuff that I could not part with was one from Eric that I must've received when I was drunk. I have no recollection of hearing it a single time before today. He must've been drunk when he left the voicemail. And I quote:

Hello Elida Harris. I thought I would call and Harris you.
And by Harris, I mean harass
And by her ass, I mean her booty
And by her booty, I mean her badunk-a-dunk
And by her badunk-a-dunk, I mean something to put your mug on
And by something to put your mug on, I mean coffee table
And by coffee table, I mean mahogany wood
And by mahogany wood, I mean ancient forests
And by ancient forests, I mean Sasquatch territory
And by Sasquatch territory, I mean some very dirty lesbians
And some very dirty lesbians, I mean some very fun times
And that is all I have to say. Good night.

I love Eric a lot.






Let's start at the very beginning/a very good place to start...

Friday was our show in Chesterfield. That place was nothing short of amazing. Let the record show that NY/NY was a spectacular venue. I must admit I was a little skeptical due to the location (the middle of nowhere) and the fact that it was in a strip mall (and basically looked like a Halloween USA from the outside).

Sweet Jesus, once we were inside our jaws hit the floor. Look at the stage we played on:




NY/NY is easily the best venue we've played yet. They served food and alcohol and the smoke eaters made it so the whole place felt like a non-smoking section regardless of your proximity to an actual lit cigarette.

The lights were intense. I had, without exaggeration, 100 different ADD moments while up there. Which reminds me, Emily said something to me the other night that was so dead on I felt like she could read minds. She said, "what do you think about when you're onstage? Cause it looks like you're thinking about a million other things that are completely unrelated."

She's right. My mind wanders. I try super hard not to let it, but with the lights and shiny things all over the places we play, it's hard not to.

Regardless of the distractions, the show was great. The crowd was great. I was on cloud nine. And! They had the most delicious spinach and artichoke dip. Ever. It was damn good I wanted to marry it. But not really, cause, you know, gays can't marry.

POP!

Saturday was interesting. I think it was the longest we have ever been in a venue before we've actually gone on for our set. Total time spent between arrival and actual performance: almost 5 hours.

Once we got onstage it was totally worth the wait. The audience made up of mostly theatre kids got really into it. There was clapping, swaying, dancing, fake moshing and Chelsea ended up with underwear on her head. One of the guys threw them onstage.

The stage:




The crowd:




We even got called back for an encore, which has never happened before. AND we got asked to sign autographs. We received the request from an older gentleman that was inexplicably in attendance. I don't think he knew anyone involved in the play or the film. We had certainly never seen him before. During our set he was jumping around in his chair, (sort of) keeping time, slapping his knee over and over.

While we were packing up, he approached Chelsea and then we all took turns signing. Here's me signing my fake name:




PS: A special thank you to Kyle for always taking pictures of us, for coming to all of our shows and for being awesome in general.

Anyway, so we all signed our autographs on the back of the program and he took a flyer with our band contact info on it. Today, I was checking our band email and found this little gem:

Subject: Curious & Interested ;~

Hello Elida Quesada.

This is Eugene, you signed an autograph for. I am curious if you meant what you wrote me, when you sign your autograph. Just to jog your memory a little, you
wrote: I <3 Eugene. Would you be interested, also? You may reply to:
takemydog0123@yahoo.com This is my address. Hope to hear from you. Tell
Chelsea, Noel & Kelly I said hi.

Take care!
May God bless all of you!
Eugene

[sindenote: It goes without saying that I changed his name and only slightly altered his email address b/c I thought it was so funny.]

This, I am hoping, is the beginning of something even more spectacular than I had envisioned when the ladies and I started playing together. You see, "Eugene" was an older guy. If I had to guess, I would say that he's in his early 70's. What little left he has of his snow white hair was swept over his scalp in a comb over. Total hottie.

Now, I want to make it clear that I really do <3 Eugene. His enthusiasm during our show made me really happy. But I am a gay lady and I am not interested in, say, going to dinner with him. I do sincerely hope that more people will ask for my autograph and then ask me out via email. Especially old dudes. Bring 'em on!

hello pot, this is the kettle...

I forgot to mention this story before. Not sure why, but it just popped into my head so I am going to share it with you now.

A few weeks ago I was up at Soho w/the usual suspects. We were sitting out on the front patio telling stories and joke and enjoying what little there is left of summer. At one point I told a joke and my dad started cracking up. He sat back in his chair, head up, laughing his ass off.

At that same moment this crazy bastard came walking out of the bar. Everyone calls him Groucho, because he has big, thick, cartoonish eyebrows tattooed to his forehead. He's rail thin, average height with a clean shaven head that is covered in tattoos that look like hair. I am almost positive that he does not have Alopecia because he has hairy legs.

He wears skin tight sleeveless tshirts and even tighter spandex biking shorts. The shorts make him, in essence, a walking anatomy lesson. He has been known to get a little crazy, yelling at total strangers and launching into stories about getting kicked out of Como's for dressing "inappropriately". Frankly, I'm surprised they would kick anyone out of Como's.

I digress.

So, just as my dad was throwing his head back in laughter, Groucho walks out the front door, through the patio and onto the sidewalk. He stopped at my father and leaned in saying very clearing, "Eat shit and die you fuckin' Nazi."

Groucho started walking away and my turned to him with a flabbergasted look on his face, mouth open hands in the air as if to say, "what the hell are you talking about".

Apparently Groucho is a mind reader, paused, turned around and said, "oh, like I don't know."

My dad's eyebrows narrowed, "Fuck you."

Groucho smiled placing his hand over his heart, "oh yeah, I'm real hurt," and continued walking away.

We all sort of looked at each other, like "what the hell?"

Darryl chimed, "that man is crazy."

Fast forward to two weeks ago

Darryl, Steve and I were sitting at the exact same table out front having a few drinks, shooting the shit. Groucho appeared again, as if from nowhere (like always) and walked up to our table. I guess he was kicked out of Como's again for being dressed like he always dresses. You know, the anatomy lesson costume... None of us really had anything to say.

Steve is such a nice guy that will sometimes entertain the craziest of crazies, including Groucho. Steve conversed with him, not sure of what to say, other than "hmm." I was trying not to laugh so I grabbed my phone out and started texting.

Steve and Groucho's convo went like this:

GROUCHO: So, I walked into Como's and that skeletor bitch owner stopped me just inside the entrance. She told me I was dressed inappropriately, that I could only come in if I changed my clothes.
STEVE: Hmm...
GROUCHO: So, I says, "fuck you. your food sucks anyway." And i came back here cause there's nothing else to do in this shit hole town.
STEVE: [nervous laughter] Yeah, i don't know what to tell you. That sucks?
GROUCHO: Well, fuck them. I'm debating whether or not I want a drink.
DARRYL: [muttering under his breath] Go for it, honey. But you can't sit with us.
GROUCHO: What's that?
DARRYL: [sharply] I said, go for it honey.
GROUCHO: Oh, really? Darryl, you are such a bitch.
DARRYL: [wide smile] Thank you. Thank you.
GROUCHO: Oh, fuck off, Darryl.

Groucho started walking away and just as he was about to go out of ear shot Darryl shouted, not looking up from his Real Detroit, "CUUUUHHHHHRRRAAAAAAAZZZZZZYYYYYYYY!"

We wanted to kill Darryl and also thank him, because I am very sure now that Groucho and his gross ass pants and crazy Nazi accusations will stay the hell away from us.

i take a whiskey drink. I take a vodka drink...

Sunday night was a fabulous way to put a bookend on the weekend. It was one of those nights when we've only intended to stay for one drink and then all of a sudden "the bar is closing in 20 min".

It was a nice little motley crew: my dads, Jen, Dave, Darryl and Jeremy was kind of in an out. It's hard to recount the night without doing so in a sporadic manner.

Dean ended up sitting with us for one reason or another. To put it simply: I cannot fucking stand Dean. I wouldn't say I hate him, but he's awfully close. My dislike for Dean has been long running. It began just over a year ago. I had just chopped all my hair off and he was super toasty drunk.

Dean is a mean drunk. I was sitting at the bar with my dad and a few others and Dean started talking to me. I had never met the man before. He sort of skipped right past any formal introduction and asked me what kind of product I used in my hair. I told him and he rolled his eye, "you don't know what you're doing."

He leaned forward in his chair, stretched his arm out and ran his hand through my hair. His fingers got caught a little and he sort of yanked them out. I had a shit ton of hair spray in my hair, because it's thick and wavy and I have to force it to be anything but. He totally jacked my hair up and I wanted to kill him immediately.

"See, I should be able to run my fingers through your hair. You're using too much product and the cut looks like shit." He took a long drag from his cigarette and sat back.

I was instantly fuming, "Okay, listen. What's your name again? Don't fucking touch my hair. Ever. I will chop your fucking arm off. That was rude and you're an asshole. Fuck off."

Dean is the kind of guy who will sit at your table uninvited and do whip-its mid-sentence or excuse himself to do poppers in the bathroom. All the while he is usually already blindingly drunk. And he's mean when he's drunk. I always want to punch him when I see him and notice that he is intoxicated. One of these days I'm going to and he won't be ready for it.

One time he was doing whip-its in front of everyone while lecturing us about the dangers of smoking. He had quit maybe two months ago and thus became an expert on the subject. If he would've taken his own advice, he wouldn't have started back up again maybe a week later.

This past Sunday, he ended up at our table nearing his angry drunk state, smoking and rambling on about his extensive knowledge of nappy hair.

Let me back up again really quick. Dean's hair is disgusting. He's a hair dresser who looks like he has not washed his hair since bell bottoms first hit the scene. It's really, really gross. It hasn't been cut in months and it's the color of straw. That's why I get so mad when he gives hair advice cause he looks like such a piece of shit.

Anyway, for one reason or another he started talking about Darryl's hair and how it was nappy and he was all of a sudden an expert again, even though he's never cut African American hair. I wanted to pour his drink on him. He kept saying "nappy" and it enraged me something fierce.

I said, "Dean, what the hell are you talking about? You don't know shit about 'nappy hair'. In fact, you don't know shit about most things, but you insist on running your mouth. No one gives a damn, Dean."

He brushed me off, "you're young and stupid. You don't know shit from shit."

"Aw, thanks, Dean. I hate you."

"Can I bum a clove?"

"You've got to be kidding."

"C'mon. Just one."

"You're out of your mind. Fuck off."

He started laughing. Then Loud Paul came outside. I also like to call him Seattle, mostly because the only thing he could really think to say was, "FUCK SEATTLE, man."

He sounded like a California stoner, but looked like a jack Russell terrier in human form. He was short and stocky and looked like he liked to bang his head on things, which probably explains his limited vocabulary.

Dean invited him to sit down, of course. And then Loud Paul started "talking". I put "talking" in quotes because it was more like yelling. Everything he said was in big bold capital letters followed by an excessive amount of exclamation points.

FUCK SEATTLE!!!!

Jen was drunk for the first time ever I think. It's not that she's never been drunk in her whole life, that night just happened to be the first time I'd seen her that way. And it was more amazing than I could have ever dreamed.

You see, that was the night that she discovered Cosmopolitans. After taking her first sip she said, "it tastes like Kool-Aid." And that's pretty much where it all started.

It didn't take much for her to get tipsy. She kept flipping straws out of her glass, trying to find them with her mouth. The ground was littered with them by night's end. Her Kool-Aid also inspired her to come up with some great one liners.

It's kind of hard to describe Jen without sounding too simple. She's absolutely lovely. She's a very petite Canadian with brown hair that's always pulled back perfectly, her bangs sort of sweeping across half of her forehead. She's very smart and that night in particular, she was very annoyed by what she feels is a misconception about her. People say she's reserved. I'd have to disagree. She can seem quiet if you don't know her, but not in an uncomfortable, "what's going on? i'm out of my element? omg someone just made eye contact!" kind of way. She's just smart, one of the few people I know who don't speak unless they really have something to say.

Here's a picture of Jen (middle, dark hair), Dave is standing to her right w/the glasses. Oh, and that's Rich. Also fabulous, of Chuck & Rich. Behind them: Becky and English.




Anyway, Sunday evening, the filter was removed and she offered these gems:

When my dad's neighbor asked him if he like Cosmo's and poured half of his drink into my dad's glass, Jen said, "do you like to wear Cosmo's?"

Earlier in the night, Jen was hungry. She did the girl thing, where she mentioned that she was hungry a couple times, prompting her husband Dave to walk down and get her a sandwich. Dave was either unaware or ignoring her. Either way, she started getting grouchy. My dad threw his arms up and went down the street to get a sandwich for her. Since she's a vegan we yelled after him, "EXTRA CHEESE!!"

Darryl got up and followed because he wanted a hot chocolate and Dave got up and followed after to make sure cheese wouldn't be put on the veggie wrap.

Oh, here's a picture of (L-R) Darryl and Tony! [<3] and Dave!




Later on that night we brought it up again and my dad said, "i don't know why you wouldn't just go get her a damn sandwich."

Jen piped in mid-sip, "yeah. why didn't you just go get me a sandwich, asshole?"

FYI: she was totally kidding. But she delivered the line dead pan, so it was brilliant. She was quick to follow it with, "oh my god, I'm kidding, honey. i love you. thank you for the sandwich. it was delicious."

Jeremy was in an out of the bar singing Karaoke. He put on quite a show for us. He did his usual Cher that Jen sang along to with vigor, her fist in the air like a soap opera character.

At one point, Jeremy grabbed a hold of the door frame and pumped his knee up and down to the tempo of the chorus. I would kill to know the name of that song right now. The point is, it was hysterical. Oh, and btw, Jeremy does the best Cher. I mean, he's no Sean Hayes. But who really is?



So, let me get back on track. You have to picture all of this happening at once: my dads and I with our belly laughs and Jeremy singing and jumping around and Dave laughing in a pitch so high only dogs could hear him and Jen's spitting straws and her fist's in the air and Dean is sloshy and bitchy and then Loud Paul walked out and ruined everything.

I mean, we still had fun I guess. But the fun changed. It became us, versus him and his obnoxious decibel level. My dad started it and everyone followed suit. We all started talking as loud as we possibly could and then Loud Paul would pause and realize that someone was actually louder than him. He would lean back and go, "...right on."

And then he started talking about his penis...

Now, I know what you're thinking, but that's not the angle he was going for. Instead of the chest pounding alpha male declaration of enormity, he started telling us about how small his penis is. Never in my life have I witnessed such a thing.

"MY PENIS IS SO SMALL!! I MEAN, IT IS LIKE, REALLY SMALL!!! MY PENIS IS REALLY SMALL! IT'S FUCKING TINY!! NOBODY WANTS A SMALL PENIS, BUT I HAVE ONE!! YOU CAN'T DO SHIT WITH A SMALL PENIS!!"

Loud Paul was sitting right next to me, so I got the brunt of his yelling. I turned to him roughly every two minutes and said, "dude my ears are seriously this close to bleeding."

He would apologize, but it would be a matter of seconds before he was at it again. Eventually Darryl got so pissed that his mama bear came out.

"Oh no, honey. Miss Elida is not gonna sit here and listen to you yell about your small penis. She's a lady."

So, they kicked him out. And we laughed all the way home cause Jen was still drunk.

There's something really fun about seeing someone who many people would consider reserved, really let her hair down for a night. It was fantastic, and since they are still on vacation until Tuesday, I'm sure there will be more to come.

One last thing...

My cousin jen sent me this. It's a picture of her son and we totally have matching hair. :)

hickeyhickeyhickey

[update: the word of the day/this post is "ridiculous". if you turn it into a drinking game where you take a shot everytime I write it, you'll be wasted by the end. Trust me.]

This weekend was ridiculous. I know that the new weekend is upon us, but it's taken me a while to get this one done. You see, I started out by writing this extremely long, incredibly vivid recap of everything, only to discover that I couldn't bare to continue on that way. I mean, if I get bored re-reading what I've written, chances are you will too. And what's fair about that? Nothing. Exactly.

Friday: Band Practice

It didn't last very long. Chelsea's voice was busy hating us, so we didn't squeeze in as much time as we probably should've. But it was all good, cause I got a pizza from Hungry Howie's before hand and it was delicious. I freaking love their pizza and Noel lives really close to one. Thank you, Noel.

The Pub Crawl

Never take directions from English. She'll just lead you in circles that will repeatedly spit you back onto Woodward. You'll get mad and want to punch her and then you will punch her and then the next day she'll say, "I was washing my arms this morning and I thought, 'did i get sunburned?'. Nope it's just a bunch of bruises from Hickey." Btw, she calls me Hickey.



see the girl taking a bite out of the other girl's ass? that's english.

The first bar we went to was this uber pretentious place called Bosco that I thought was really lame. I mean, it was pretty or whatevs, but it was too modern and loud and expensive and dark.

While there I spoke with a man who was talking non-stop about how bad he wanted a cigarette. Apparently, time does not help at all. That dude hadn't had a cigarette in eight months. So, either, he was lying about how long it had been or quitting smoking is really, really hard.

It wasn't long before we ended up at Soho. That was our second of two stops for the night. Well, let me elaborate. English and I got there late, so everyone else had already seen $10 worth of drunken fools. I'd say, we saw maybe $1 worth, but paid full price. Whatevs. I love Soho. I'm totally not complaining and here's why:

There was a fight.

While at Soho I witnessed the sissiest fight ever.

OMG, but before you do that, please go here. I went looking for a picture of a dyke fight and I stumbled upon this gem. Please click the damn link. You will die. It's some band in the UK whose music is: Christian Rap/Death Metal/Bluegrass. I swear to you I'm not making it up. Their headline reads: "Music Banging In Your Ass Soon."

That just made my day.



You're welcome.

Let me sort of preface the fight I saw with the fights I've seen very recently. I go to Como's on a regular basis for their Ladies Nights. Now, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that putting a whole bunch of drunken lesbians in one big room will lead to drama. And not just any kind of drama: dyke drama.

Dyke drama is awesome to watch, but absolutely horrible to be involved in. I've been on both ends and it gets out of hand really quickly. All it takes is one wrong word, or even a look and drinks are flying, fists are out and very butch girls are being torn apart by enormous men.

It can get ugly.

I've witnessed tons of fights, and they were never the hair pulling/scratch fests you might typically imagine from a bunch of ladies. They have always been very intense and look painful. I'm talking fists, elbows, feet, knees, beer bottles, etc. Those girls get crazy.

Now, gay boys are totally different. I feel like most of them would rather have a dance-off or something instead of breaking out into a brawl.

The boys that fought that night at Soho were ridiculous. They were medium height, rail thin, pretty boys who started a sort of slapping/shoving match. Somehow one of their drinks fell to the ground. Just after the shattering of glass, the boys went sort of skipping off into the alley. They were chasing after one another, but they were so light on their feet that it looked like skipping.

I almost laughed myself retarded.

I got hungry.

English and I left the bar around close and walked back to her house. She was all sorts of wound up. When she drinks it's kind of like giving speed to someone who is already heavily sedated. She kind of runs around slowly, but all smiles and will not stop swinging her fists at me.

During the walk back, she made it a point to jump and smack every single hanging plant and street sign.

We ended up in the car in search of food that led us, somehow to Detroit. I really couldn't tell you how that happened. One minute we were in line at Leo's in Royal Oak and then next we were pulling through my old favorite drive-thru coney place in the heart of a really shitty neighborhood.

Now, I've spent a decent amount of time in Detroit and I'll fight you to the death over the city. It's not scary. I mean, it should be, if you're an idiot. But, if you're smart and careful and aware you'll be fine. Bums and lowlifes are akin to dogs and bees. They can smell your stinky fear from a mile away.

Anyway, we drove back to her house and watched some random non-porn lesbian movie with British people in it wearing period clothing. I don't really remember all of it. I was too busy laughing at English while she tried not to fall asleep with a plate of french toast balancing in her hand.

It was awesome.

Saturday: the show in Toledo

Before we left for the show @ Rick's, I made a stop at my cousin's house. Her stupid brother downloaded a million viruses onto her computer. And Dennis, if you're reading this...I mean, I doubt you are because you hate reading and never go on the computer for anything that is not porn...just know that we know what you did. The computer was jacked and Jenny wants to beat you with reeds.

We drove to the show in two separate cars. Chelsea (old lady driver) and Tan Bone in the Jimmy and English, Noel and I in Louise (my car). We sweat our asses off in my stupid non-air conditioned car. But it was all good cause English pimped out my back seat. She took all the glow sticks left over from Audrey's birthday and stuck them to the ceiling. Oh, and she also took a tampon and put that with the glow sticks. And it was open. An open tampon. Unused, but open.

Anna's

We stopped and got food at this little diner down the street from Rick's. It was quaint. I think I terrified our waitress at first. You see, I was wearing a gift that Audrey had purchased for me about a week before: a boob whistle.

I tried to do a Google image search for a picture to show you, but that was ridiculous. Don't ever search for an image of a boob whistle when you're at work. Just don't.

Anyway, the whistle is awesome.

During our meal Tan Bone was already getting wound up. I love it when she gets hyper. She started bugging me about not eating meat. And, you know, i find it strange, because I NEVER bug people about eating meat, but i find myself being badgered by people who can't understand why I don't. I mean, who the hell cares? You do, I don't. It's kind of like sex with boys. Just leave it alone.

Anyway, she had some very profound things to say, such as:

"What if you landed on a deserted island and all there was to eat was grasshoppers. What would you do then, huh?"

and

"Ok, you eat eggs because they're unfertilized, but would you eat an unfertilized baby turkey?"

Yeah. I probably don't have to bother with explaining why both of those questions are stupid. They're funny as hell, but they're ridiculous. I think I might love her even more for them.

The show, sort of

The show went really well. Somehow we had more people there for us than any of the other bands, which doesn't make any sense. I mean, they actually live nearby and they couldn't round up a few troops? We drove over and hour and so did everyone else that came top see us. I mean, Christ.

Anyway, we made some new friends and almost died during the last act. The lead singer was probably in her late twenties, early thirties and she danced around during their whole set. And when I say dance, picture some cross between Elaine Benes, Marsha Brady and a belly dancer. It was that amazing.

We don't want to sleep tonight...

After the show we went out to the parking lot and stood around being stupid. All of us were stone cold sober, but we were wicked slap happy. Tan Bone had switched it into high gear and danced around the parking lot like Tina Turner having a panic attack. I couldn't stop laughing.

Stop breaking the law, asshole.

I saw this little animated graphic thing on a website with text that fades in and out and it read:

Before there were lawyer ads on TV...
Before there were lawyer shows on TV...
Before there was TV...
There was Sam Bernstein.

The only things we had before TV were dinosaurs.

raindrops on roses

So... I have started and abandoned exactly 84 posts. And, you know, a lot has gone down since my last post. Val was here the weekend before last and that was amazing.

By that Sunday I was a bell jar, and that sort of bled into Monday, which bled into a rough 24 hour stretch that tested me in a number of ways. But, seeing as how I rarely blog about dramatic shit (to protect the innocent/in favor of not bumming everyone out/etc.), I am going to blog about something that has absolutely nothing to do with unhappiness.




Here are a few of my favorite things right now...

Bravo's TOP CHEF (Chicago)



I la-la-love this show for so many reasons. First of all, I love making food. I don't flex my cooking muscles as often as I should, really. I did last night though, ps. I made tortellini in a roasted garlic parmesan tomato sauce topped with fresh grated parmesan and then made my signature dish: bruchetta.

Anyway, I love this show. For anyone who doesn't know, the show is like Project Runway in the kitchen. They have 15 or so contestants and give them crazy challenges, but they all involve food. Last week the chefs had to cater to a zoo benefit dinner, designing their menu around the diets of some of the animals.

I mean, that's some crazy shit. I love watching them flip out in the kitchen, fighting over burners and sabotaging each other with missing ingredients and misinformation. Somehow, they all manage to put together a plate of food that I have never, ever seen before, but would totally eat (except the meat).

It drives Rori crazy when I watch it, but I swear it's good. Oh, and there's a lesbo couple on the show too. One of them has a faux hawk, the other wears big dangly turqouise earrings, AND there's a dude on the show with a faux hawk too. I'm rethinking my hairstyle.




Also, if you click on the link to the dude with the faux hawk, you'll see him wearing pink crocks. Why are people still wearing those? And if you want to know how to style a faux hawk, look no further.

Enchanted



Oh. My. God. Have you seen this movie yet? I wish I would've seen it in theatres, but it was still awesome watching it at home.

This movie has most everything I love in a movie: singing, dancing, animation transported into reality, Manhattan, precocious little girls, a naive leading lady, talking animals and a BA wicked witch. OMG, and the ginormous dance number in central park seriously made my heart smile:



I know that might sound really queer, but I swear it's cute AND funny and not annoying at all. I've been humming one of the songs for a week now and Rori nearly kicks me when I launch into "I've been dreaming of a true love's kiss..."

this video i found on youtube

I typed my name in the search field and this was one of the things that popped up. Apparently, there is some other Elida out there charming the pants off of somebody, so much so, that they were inspired to make a youtube video about her.



I have decided to be a big giant creep ass and make one as an ode to my bestie, JP. As soon as it is completed, I will have it up here.

the band




The ladies and I made things official in January. I remember the exact date. It was January 12th. I remember the exact date because I used a bit of forethought. It was the first night we played together as a group. Afterwards, we got shitty drunk. Chelsea passed out on the couch in Jessy's old room and I set up the air mattress for Noel in the music room/living room.

I have a pretty good memory, but never would've remembered the date so I saved the following text message so that I wouldn't have to rely on my blurry hung over memory. I received this the following morning from Chelsea:

"Wake up. My head hurts." -Chelsea

I got up and it wasn't long before I laughed my ass off as I cleaned the sauce off of the wall from when Chelsea chucked part of a French bread pizza at me the night before. She was really hung over that morning of the aforementioned text. We all felt like shit, as we poured ourselves glasses of more alcohol that morning. I mean, we just had to. There was some Arbor Mist in the fridge and it sounded delicious and also got rid of our headaches.

My point is, that we've started this band and we're making music and hopefully playing shows soon. And I'm sure that everyone's sick of me saying it in passing constantly, but it's true: playing with them is what makes me the happiest right now.

So, you know. There's that. Check out Chelsea's myspace page for the tracks she’s already recorded. It'll give you an idea of where we heading. Just try to imagine the songs with drums, bass (eventually) and me dancing around playing guitar like a crazy person especially when we do Scars. PS, Scars is my fav.

We'll have a myspace page ready as soon as we lay down the new versions of everything we've worked on collectively thus far. Stay tuned.

the girls next door




I think I've mentioned that show before and I did because I love it so much. I have no idea why I love that show so much, but I do. Kelly came over the other night and we watched a few episodes and laughed our asses off. Everything is funnier when Kelly's around, but I promise, the show is funny.

I used to hate Kendra because she is so effing stupid and her laugh makes me wanna put in ear plugs. Hugh Hefner is just gross. When I watch the show, I try not to think about him having sex with any of them, because it makes me cringe. I mean, he's old and has loose skin and old balls, and gross.

But it's funny. Very funny.

This Girl Called Automatic Win

I la-la-love reading Riese's blog and watching the VLOGs and her recaps of the L word are better than the show, which to her, I guess, is not saying a whole lot. But really, truly, she is amazing. If you're not reading her stuff yet, I find that peculiar since I have a habit of mentioning her constantly.

Rori gets pissed because I ignore her when Riese has a new post. You know, there are a great many compromises to be made in any relationship, reading Riese's blog is just not something I'm willing to negotiate.

Check her out. You won't be sorry.

And lastly...

I was browsing for photos to put up of the ladies and I practicing when I stumbled upon the following photograph that me all sorts of happy. I literally LOLed:

i dreamt of a fever, one that cure me of this cold winter set heart

"Can we listen to some music?" Rori asked me as we were getting ready on sunday afternoon. I walked over to the computer.

"Not Britney Spears," she added.

Dammit.

I may or may not be listening to her new CD a lot. And say what you will about her (I think she needs professional help, i feel sad a little bit/a lot when I think about how sick she really is--in the head and whatnot), but that new CD of hers in fantastic. I love it, start to finish.

And I've got to tell you, I was surprised as hell that I like it so much. I've never liked any of her other CD's all the way through before.



So, Heath Ledger died last week. I mean, WTF? Who saw that one coming? Not me. I'm not gonna say a lot about it cause I feel like everyone and their mother has addressed the topic since the news first broke less than an hour after it happened. I know because I've read all of it.

But you know, it just really, really sucks. Very sad.

The silver lining is that he was able to complete this before his untimely passing:



I am wicked excited to see what will be his last completed performance.





So, I haven't written in at least a week and it is by no means attributed to inactivity, except sort of. Basically.

They have this show on A & E called "Intervention". I love this show. And I loved it a whole lot more before I sort of had one of my own. Apparently I have a bit of a problem with being reckless, drinking/partying too much, I'm not on quite the right track with school and a bevy of other things. The only thing I've been really good about lately, is keeping it in my pants, proverbially speaking of course. But I've failed at just about everything else.

So, I'm going through a lot of changes right now, feeling very foggy, restless, sleepless, that sort of thing. It'll pass for sure. And it's all entirely my fault, so don't think I'm seeking out any sort of compassion or pity. I'm just trying to explain my absence and explain any changes you might notice taking place.

I guess it's time to grow up a bit. Not too much, but a healthy amount is in order I think. There will be a little less of this:




And a lot more of this:




You really should check out the show Intervention. It's awesome. My favorite one was this girl who had this addiction to speedballing. She was in really deep and her dad kept fueling. AND she had an eating disorder just like her mother who was convinced that she did not have an eating disorder, even though she totally did.

It was a really good episode. That show really shakes you up, gives you a reality check. And there's an extra special kind of reality check when you are the subject of one. Thank god it wasn't on TV. That would've sucked balls. For real.

Here's another kind of Intervention. Arcade Fire, to be specific:



Now that I've gotten all of that other obligatory exposition out of the way I would like to move on to bigger and better/happier things.

1. There is a band. Will post pics/updates later. But beautiful music is being made and might find its way to your ears sometime in the near future.

2. This weather is ridiculous.




We've gotten a really decent amount of snow this winter, and not counting today, we've had pretty steady temps. I kind of feel like a meteorologist right now. But srsly, we all like our winters to be like this:



And they end up being a little more like this:



I have lived in Michigan my whole life (sad but true) and I feel like half of the population still has no idea what they're doing behind the wheel of a vehicle. I mean, essentially, a car is a killing machine. You sort of barrel on down the road going pretty effing fast (if you're anything like me), and really, you could kill yourself and/or someone else if something unexpected like a torrential downpour or something.

I feel like people panic, especially with heavy rain or any amount of snow. They slam on the brakes like morons and cause accidents, spilled beverages, further panic and a deeper seeded hatred of driving under these conditions.

One morning before I braved the treachery that was my drive to work, I paid a bum $5 to shovel me out of my spot. My car was blocked in by a shit ton of snow. There were at least 4 feet of snow completely encasing my vehicle. I walked out there with my hot chocolate and grilled cheese (breakfast of champions, ps) in hand and my jaw dropped. I was all, "what the hell? how the fuck am i gonna get out of there."

Lo and behold, this bum comes jogging up from further down the street wearing a smorgishbord of clothes (members only jacket, knit (?) vest, hoodie, snow pants (?), jeans, sweatpants, sneakers, a knit cap and mismatched gloves). He looked like he just walked off stage as a member of the chorus from RENT. "Christmas bells are ring-ing, Christmas bells are ring-ing. how time flies."

Anyway, he shoveled me out and offered to brush my car off for an extra dollar even though I was halfway done already.

I still got to work late, but it was all good.

3. The L Word is trucking along and rocking my world. And I think I can really relate to Bette right now. Not me right now, but me a while ago. No time specification necessary. Suffice as to say, I get her. Also, she is smoking hot. You know who else is? Helena? Where is she? Probs with Papi.

4. I lost heat in my apt. the weekend before last and wanted to kill father time and mother earth and whoever thought it would be a great idea to still heat things with a boiler. Damn it was cold in my apt. Not quite as cold as it was when the heat went out last winter and Eric and I thought that maybe it was a sign of the apocalypse or something. We sat huddled around our space heaters and watched the time drag on.

This time wasn't so bad. Still really fucking cold, but it only lasted a couple of days and I am pleased to report that my apt. is back to sweltering heat. Chelsea has described it as "hot as balls" on countless occasions and I'd have to agree.

But you know, I don't mind the heat. First of all, I am half Mexican and so I think probs my genetics dictate me requiring copious amounts of heat and also, it is really fucking cold outside. I'd rather be really hot than freezing my ass off. And I think most people would agree. Maybe even Chelsea.

5. My iPod died.



I don't know why I put this in with other stuff that is supposed to be not shitty. But whatevs. My iPod broke and I am devastated. I stared at it forever and felt like I might cry, but I didn't.

Life post iPod is very different from life pre-iPod. And I swear to you I was so grateful during the iPod years (circa 2003-2008). They were great years. I had a couple iPods and loved them unconditionally and in their own special ways. My newest one died of what I believe to be anything other than natural causes, unless you count carelessness as "natural".

My phone must've cracked the screen on accident when it was hanging out in my pocket waiting to rock my world. Now the screen looks like it's fading away from a terminal illness. Poor Oscar. Such a wonderful little iPod. Was totally my favorite thing I owned.

It's weird that I'm speaking in the past tense as if I buried the damn thing in the alley. But the truth is, I'm still carrying it around in my bag like it might come back top life when I least expect it, by way of an iPod fairy or the miracle of prayer or a shooting star. Something, dammit. Something.

These are difficult times, the days we are living in. First the war, the economy, and now this. I am simply beside myself.

I've resorted to carrying around a discman. Until this very moment, I cannot recall the last time I even thought about a "discman", let alone wrote about it. I carry around a case full of CDS i feel like I can't live without right now. It contains the following:

Radiohead
As Tall As Lions
AC/DC
Led Zeppelin
Fiona Apple
The Shins
The Marie Antoinette soundtrack
Colplay
Fall Out Boy
Kelly Clarkson
a few assorted mixes
Lovedrug
Motion City Soundtrack
Elliott Smith

and a couple others I can't remember right now, but seemed really important this morning when I put them in my bag. And you can say what you will about my musical selection. I will defend them all until the death. So whatevs. I forgot about Britney Spears! I totally have her new CD in there too. I've been listening to that a lot. I think I mentioned that before.

6. Most everything else is the same. I don't wanna jinx anything, but you know, things are ok. I think I've finally figured out how the whole relationship thing, or at least, I think I've figured out how to make it work for me personally. Things are good.

My heart and my head are in a good place.