Sunday, January 18, 2009

i know, it has been too long.

BUT LOOK! HERE!I apologize for disappearing for a couple..few..months, but I've decided to get back on the wagon. I live in Chicago now and have learned some things about some things. I'd like to share with you.

my favorite duos

1) Loretta Lynn and Jack White

There are two ways (ha) to look at this duo: What could go wrong? What could go RIGHT? 
If you've read any of my other entries, you know that I already have a fixation for Jack White. 

In a world of Metro Station, I feel completely justified in appreciating someone like Jack White. He is not the spawn of Billy Ray Cyrus, can write the score for a Pepsi commercial, act alongside John C. Reilly, and be 1/2 of The White Stripes. Why shouldn't I worship? Mad props for Jack White are obvious, but for those of you who don't hail from Shelbyville, Indiana, I'll explain Loretta Lynn.

Take a natural ability to write songs, EPIC songs, perfect and true ballads. Mix it with being southern to the bone (getting married at 13, naming your daughter after Patsy Cline, and having your husband leave you while giving birth), and being almost 75, and you have Loretta Lynn. Even though Loretta is obviously a huge deal in the country world, there's something about her that just shouldn't mesh with Jack White, or there's something about Jack White that shouldn't mesh with Loretta Lynn. The thing is, 

Exhibit A)

Exhibit B)

3 Grammies? That's what I thought.

2) Shepard Fairey and Barack Obama
Not only do these two have quite the name combination, but they have also combined innovative art with innovative to
create something iconic.
You have probably seen more OBEY tee shirts and stickers than you can count on your fingers and toes in the last few
years. The people behind the OBEY empire are Shepard Fairey and Andre the Giant. Fairey created this image based off
of any old Andre picture. Then, he printed about 40 trillion stickers and made lots of money! He continues to actively
produce art, including some promotional work for some big clients. ie: the Barack Obama Campaign.

Being in Chicago and on a college campus, I'm really tired of hearing about Barack Obama. Don't get me wrong, I'm
excited for Barack, but if I show the smallest bit of hesitation, someone will lecture me about anything liberal. So just
look at the nice picture.
Obama is one of the most visible people on the planet. In other words, he's everywhere. Shepard Fairey is great at designing images that show up EVERYWHERE. Put the two together and you've got every single park bench (in Grant Park, at least), teenager's bumper, and another big success for Fairey and Obama. Also, don't pretend like you haven't LOLed  at least once when you've seen their name combination.

3) Chicago and Santullo's Eatery
Chicago-style pizza is gross and that's it. Don't try to convince me otherwise, because it is just too much and you won't change my mind! Lucky for me, there is Santullo's Eatery, located at 1943 W. North Ave. in Chicago. Once you find your way through Wicker Park (dodge the hipsters on bikes and people that are just looking for Pier One), you'll find it. Walk in, embrace that Motorhead is playing (most likely), and just smell for a second. Oooooh yeah. Then go up to the counter and order anything. The sandwiches and salads are awesome, but I'm sending you here for the pizza. I'm a fan of ol' cheese, but I trust Santullo's. Pick anything. Maybe "Thee Hipster" or "Great White." Seriously, pick anything. The slices are HUGE and the employees will give you suggestions if you're really lost. Just look at this. Now you know what kind of pizza I'm talking about. New York-style, about 5 inches wide, 8 inches long. There's not really another way I can think to describe Santullo's pizza except for perfect.

I dig Santullo's. The atmosphere is great, the food is perfect, and there is pizza happy hour ($2 per slice, BIG slice) every day from 2 to 4. If you're in the area, just go. There are plenty of pizza places in Chicago and plenty of other more exotic choices surrounding Santullo's, but this place is seriously as good as it gets. GO. TO. SANTULLO'S.

So I guess that's it! Maybe I'll do my least favorite duos next. Bye!

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

internet mourn

I jumped from platform to platform this morning. I don't know what people used to do when their friends died, but I guess we post on myspace and facebook these days. I don't know if a spot of my blog will do anything for your spirit and I know that you're not somewhere else browsing the interweb, but I think if you saw this, you'd like this picture of yourself.

Rest in peace, Katie. I don't know what to say except that I am so, so sorry and I hope that you feel better.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

contrast and compare

I don't know if this is exactly a stroke of genius, but I just had this idea. These are the pluses and minuses of summer.
1) sleeping in.
I'll let you in on a little secret: during high school, I woke up at 5:15am. That just sounds unholy. I am really not sure of how I functioned, being that I am a moderate work a holic that will stay up as long as it takes to memorize however many flashcards I made. Now that it's summer, my wake up time varies from 6AM when I have to work to whenever I want. My forced status as an early bird hasn't worn off, however. What I refer to as "sleeping in" usually means about 9:30am. This is okay to me, because then I can walk around the house in whatever I slept in and watch shows about babies on TLC or The Dog Whisperer.
2) fishing.
As much as I might deviate myself from my homeland of Shelbyville, Indiana, I'll never be able to deviate myself from the edge of your seat sport of fishing. I will cast the line farther than you and I'll probably snap the line on a twig or something. There is something about fishing that I can't shake. I'm not sure if it's the mosquito bites or killing time in Shelbyville, but fishing is a default hangout activity. 
3) increased use of my Nalgene.
Thanks to a friend of mine, I have been notified that Nalgene bottles do NOT cause cancer or obesity (I'll leave that to P-lites and tortilla shells). So, I can again tote my purple Nalgene around wherever I go; the living room, the gym, my car, the bathroom can all cause thirst. A plus of this plus is the existence of Crystal Lite ON THE GO, which allows me to spice (or sweeten, in my case) up my water but still pee a lot.
"Lightening bugs, lightening bugs. CHOO CHOO CHOO, the lightening bugs." I'm not sure where I learned this little song/chant, but I am sure that lightening bugs are a huge part of why summer is great. I was never one of the creepy kids that tore the lighter parts off and smeared the lighter goo on my face, but I did capture as many as possible and set them loose in the house. I wish that there were as many lightening bugs as there were mosquitos, but I'm sure that there would never be sufficient darkness for drive in movies (waaaah daylight savings time boo hoo). Is it possible to frown when looking over a lawn to a field of bugs that SPARKLE? I think not.
4) church carnivals and county fairs
I could go on for hours about what I love about church carnivals and county fairs, but let's stick with some superficial ideas.
+ funnel cakes
+ rides that make me throw up funnel cakes
+ "The Little Lady from Haiti" at the Bartholomew County fair. This is actually a little cruel, sideshow like, but it's interesting to see who will pay a dollar to go look in her tiny living room and maybe shake her tiny hand. The saddest part is, if, in a fit of relentless compassion, you make one of your friends tell her "Je veux aide toi," she will respond "Aidez moi." I'll leave that up to you to translate.
+ 4-H projects (like BUY AN OUTFIT!)
+ being hit on by white south african carnies (Shelby County Fair 2008. beat that)
+drunk priests gambling
1) my job.
I work at a kennel. A huge part of my work is cleaning up dog poop. Believe me when I tell you that there are some dogs that poop bigger and more often than you. Even you. Though this is no glamourous task, the task is easier to stand when this poop is frozen, even frosted over. But no. Imagine cleaning up huge piles of poop at 4PM in July in Indiana. Did you remember the flies? Did you remember the "poop in the microwave" effect? Did you remember that you're getting $7 an hour to do this? 
2) never being able to find a smoothie.
On hot summer days, all that I really want is a huge smoothie made with mango, banana, and raspberry. Why is this so hard? I don't think I'm even in the same state as a Jamba Juice and the smoothie nasty things at Starbucks are terrible. Where else is there to look? My local Cuppies advertises the presence of smoothies, but they also advertised "fresh hot chocolate" (which I quickly discovered was fresh from a bag). No trust in that relationship. I broke my household blender A LONG time ago, smoke and everything, so I don't have the prospect of making my own smoothies. Really, what could  be more refreshing, yet so out of reach?
3) not being able to afford summer music festivals.
In addition to not being able to afford Lollapalooza or Bonnaroo or the high waited paints required to Pitchfork, I don't know which summer music festival crowd I could comfortably be a part of. I don't have the contacts to not have to pay for a hotel in Chicago for Lollapaloozaand my bangs are only sort of asymmetric (I also don't care fore PBR). I don't smoke nearly enough pot for Bonnaroo and don't own a tent. I don't have the cash for coke and Pitchfork tickets, which automatically eliminates me from their target audience. What music festival can normal kids, but kind of cool but a little more awkward, attend comfortably? Can I cement the presence of Motorhead, Ryan Adams, Rilo Kiley, Iron and Wine, Bob Dylan, and The Libertines? Will they give me a place to stay? Can I pay less than, oh, $75? If such a place exists, please stop keeping the secret.
4) feeling like I have to tell about my dreams
Any time I start a sentence with "Guess what I dreamed last night!" you're going to be disappointed. Because I can sleep more during the summer, I have more dreams and am more likely to stumble over my descriptions and embarrass myself from trying to explain what my mind made up. You're going to appear insensitive while I'm rambling about spanish spices, so why not just leave the situation and try to divert my attention? Don't think that this means that I want to hear about your dreams. They don't make any sense either and I'll pretend to understand.
It's summertime, kids! Live it up!

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

As a nearly 19 year old with most of my close friends in other states (let's hear it for summer leadership programs!), I have made some summer plans. 

1) Write a letter to Andrew W.K.
I watched some of Andrew's four hour lecture at NYU on YouTube and have decided that we are going to become best friends. In his lecture, Andrew discusses coincidence, the paradox of partying, the last time he cried, and suddenly bursts out in dance.
Maybe this is me being too optimistic, but I'm under the impression that Andrew W.K. is a nice guy. Aside from his career as an inspirational speaker at colleges, he has also spoken at the opening of a Paul Frank store as well as in opening of last year's Bamboozle festival. As a classically-trained pianist, Andrew chooses to write music about the aforementioned paradox: partying ("Party 'Till You Puke," "Time to Party," "Party Hard," etc). Because of Andrew W.K.'s combination of getting that people need to tear their dress shirts and throw some chairs and the nice needs performed  by Andrew on his MTV2 show "Your Friend, Andrew W.K.," maybe Andrew will write back. He went to the gym with some guy after helping throw out Little Debbys and threw a birthday party for a 30 year old, so why not? 

2) Decide if I'm anti myself having tattoos or not.
I'm sure that anyone reading this knows that the current fad for the 16-30 crowd is tattoos. Thanks to TLC, there are plenty of Kat VonD hopefuls strutting around (they will never look as nice in leather pants) with tattoos that seem like an excuse to get tattoos. I've considered the possibility. I've got a job, I've got asymmetric bangs, is a tat next in line? The only thing I can really think of is KOWABUNGA on the inside of my bottom lip, but the logical part of me reminds myself that such a tattoo would last about six months. Nothing has happened to me that I need to make permanent on my body. I have a mind for that. The only design that I would seriously consider is an anchor, you know, because I'm a tough sailor. The only spots I would consider are my achilles tendon or ribs, both of which sound unnecessarily painful but could be hidden when I actually need to be taken seriously. (this is quickly turning into a mindmap) Couldn't I invest in something else to make friends? 
Sidenote: My recent trip to an amusement park made me decide that I am anti myself having tattoos. Let's be realistic.
It looks like I achieved my goal!

I'm going to go ahead and post this now because I'm running dry and I'm hungry, but maybe I'll come back to it.

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

rEbEl sPiRiT!!!!

In order to best clarify what I'm about to say, I need to give some sort of description of my former high school. We'll call it Poncalli because I've heard that my diploma can be taken away for 90 more days. Poncalli High School is all white, all Catholic, and all about itself. And no, we did not have cute uniforms.

Student Favorites:

-Kenny Chesney
-Dave Matthews Band
-Larry the Cable Guy
-trucks. not the kind for skateboards.
-American Eagle
-basketball shorts
-synchronized dancing/clapping/cheering

Administration Favorites:
-busting student parties
-pretending to be your friend but really just ratting you out and suspending you
-mimes at Good Friday services
-khaki Old Navy cargo pants

I think that my previous description gives a pretty accurate representation of what it's like to walk to Poncalli halls. After four years in the Poncalli halls, I can present some valuable high school lessons.

1) Freshman girls will have terrible self esteem.
I've done this and I've seen so many other freshman girls do the same thing. You're in an unfamiliar place surrounded by people who have already passed their "awkward stage," making you all the more uncomfortable. You got a new hair cut just for high school but it's really hard to maintain during the day. Really, you're just trying to fit in. Miraculously, this low self esteem brings about a sort of blurred vision regarding potential mates. People that date freshman girls are either:
-very lucky 8th graders
-25+ years old
-creepy upperclassmen that cannot get a date otherwise
And somehow, these freshman girls are charmed by the wit and finesse of their aforementioned suitors. Now, the same girls will hopefully go a little farther into puberty and realize that their new boyfriends are lame or will just continue to date their boyfriends until their boyfriends go to college, jail, or become underclassmen and the whole romantic notion just fizzles out.
2) You will have to sit by what could be the stupidest person on Earth.
In Poncalli High School and probably every other high school, there is a cornucopia of people that, in this stage of life, are stupid. While the exoskeletons of these creatures vary, most of whom I speak of at Poncalli have fade haircuts, two cubic zirconia earrings, and "dress up" in an Abercrombie polo. This classmate will sit next to you in a class that demands some sort of participation, be that a class about literature or trigonometry (Eliminate the possibilty of calculus. He's not in that class and neither are you.) When such a person does participate in class, he contribues something along the lines of being able to identify a noun or is talking about how much he got laid last weekend (don't believe him). In the everyday world, you may call this person a "bro." I recommend looking up BRORAPE on youtube.
3) Unless you're a bro (see above) or an amazon woman, gym class is terrible.
I'll admit it in the beginning, I am not and never will be athletic. I am the spawn of a triathelete and a runner, but somehow missed out on their genes. For people like me, NORMAL PEOPLE, gym class is torture (especially if your school is poor and you have no air conditioning). The male teacher of your class will be a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen and the female teacher will be better at every sport than you will ever be. The teachers know this. You know this. Tough shit. By the end of the year, I still could not run three laps around the circle in front of the school without walking a little. The male gym teacher asked me if I tried to throw the shotput wrong (because believe me, I did). However I formed tight bonds with my fellow nonatheletes. We long jumped very short distances together. We hopped our high jumps. We struggled through the biannual mile. We watched a bro fart while trying to do more pull ups. Though gym class will make you feel like a total outsider, you'll find a little home amoungst the other outsiders.

4)As much as you might want to burn down your high school at some points, just finish it so that you can look back and laugh.
I would describe my entire high school experience has love/hate. I made some great friends and hated some people. I packed some great lunches and hated the school's mozzerella sticks. I slept in a lot of classes and disrupted others with excess enthusiasm. For as many times as I've wanted to poop in the hallway, I've gone out on the weekend and laughed until I had to scream that I was going to throw up. I doubt that any 8th grader will ever read this, but if one does, just grit your teeth through the hard parts and enjoy the fun that you do have.

Is this when Green Day should play?
No, just Peaches. Loud and in front of the principal.

Friday, May 23, 2008

by popular demand...or 1 person

Okay, let this sink in before I start:
Ladies and gentlemen, Nick Pitera.

I don't really know how I'm supposed to analyze this. The first time I watched this video, I laughed,
but this was after right after watching a video about lepruchans in Atlanta, so maybe I wasn't in the
right spirits. I'm actually sort of impressed. Can I sing as low as a tenor? No! Maybe Nick Pitera has
some legitimate talent. He could also probably save Disney a lot of money but allowing them to
hire only one singer for a film.

Here's the original version of "A Whole New World"
Does anyone else notice Aladdin's lisp? Not to make a sweeping generalization, but I don't think that
he's really interested in Jasmine. Jasmine's hair gave me unrealistic expectations for my own hair as a
child. Not that I'm bitter. I'd say that the only things that could improve Nick's performance are
1) escape from a tiger in the beginning like the original version!
2) sing while riding on a magic carpet. Don't pretend that such an image wouldn't be magical.

In conclusion, you're creeping me out a little, Nick Pitera. I feel like you could be both my brother and
my sister. However, you also have a useful gift. Want your mom to talk to your "girlfriend" on the
phone? Easy squeezy, Japaneesy. Want to join Curves? No problem. Want to order the latest Micheal
Bolton cd? No need to be ashamed, my friend! Though I'm a lot turned off by the fact that you sound
EXACTLY like the original Jasmine but wouldn't fit in her underwear, I like you.

Which voice would he sing the National Anthem in?

Saturday, April 26, 2008


This isn't even a real post.
Actually, it's probably funnier than anything I could ever write.
I present: what my e-wanderings resulted in tonight!

This is sort of like when I watched Borat and felt genuine sadness when his producer stole his passport and left him. I know that this lolcat isn't REALLY having a party, but you know, maybe I see a little bit of myself here. Maybe you should remember that lolcats(Reillys) have feelings. Maybe you should've thrown the lolcat a surprise party so that he or she would not have known that there was a disappointing turnout. Maybe you should've just let the lolcat keep his or her passport but not talk to him or her when they get home.

Maybe you should just love the lolcat like he or she deserves!

All that I have for this the fact that I did in fact laugh out loud in the dark alone in my living room when I saw this.