The Black Crowes

Amanda and I went to go see the Black Crowes tonight. I've now seen the Black Crowes three times. I now have ticket stubs for each of my 3 album cases!

It was at the Backyard, which if you've never been, I highly recommend. It's a pretty sweet outdoor venue. A bit pricey, but it allows you a pretty good, close-up view of the stage w/o getting too crowded. I was much closer this time than either of the other times I've seen them (once at Jazzfest, and once at ACL) The "lawn" where everyone was standing was kinda sloped down toward the stage. Not too steep, but enough of a slope where you could easily see over the people in front of you. Also a plus.

The show itself was pretty good. I own 3 CDs (a not-insignificant portion of their discography) but they played a lot of songs I did not know. They were good songs, I just didn't know them. Maybe I need to buy a new album... They did play a few crowd pleasers too, which was nice.

Overall, a good show. Glad I went.

untitled

Today, I there was a guy in the elevator standing next to me... He had on headphones and was bobbing his head along with the music, which is not altogether unusual on a college campus. What was odd, however, was the music he was listening to. Bach... A Brandenburg Concerto, I think. He was really into it.

I agree this is a good idea, but I can't help thinking it's a bit humorous. Does it come with whips and child-size shackles? :-P

Thanks to Caroline, I have a new hot biker girl to obsess over. This summer I'd love to go on a biking bender (maybe with Jarrett) and go biking across some US state. Probably up in the pacific northwest. Some place coolish and scenic. Thanks!

I bought some new stamps today. Sugar Ray Robinson. Oh yeah.

cursed evening...

The recent weeks have seen some interesting happenings at the Palace at 2110 Maldon.

Number of Parties: 2

Number of frat-tool-douche-bags encountered at my own party : > 3.

Number of said frat-tool-douche-bags known beforehand: 0.

Hours wasted playing Guitar Hero: > 5.

Number of cars chipped out of ice-coffins: 2.

Bob Dylan Albums acquired: 1.

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yeah... I'm getting tired of thinking of clever ways to put things in here, so I'll cut to the chase.

It seems as if we're going to have to move soon (i.e. before the end of the summer). Our landlords are moving out of state, and want to sell the house. This sucks b/c they are trying to sell it for ~$30,000 more than the house is appraised for. Not that I think they'll get it all of it, but whoever buys it will probably want to raise the rent more than we'd like pay. I really don't want to move.

So, in an act of desperation, I'm attempting to purchase the house. Probably won't be able to swing a loan for the entire amount. If I can, It'll be freakin' sweet. If not, we'll probably end up moving. dammit.

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On a happier note, I played some dominoes tonight. It's the consolation tournament for all us poor saps which didn't make it into the playoffs. First prize is a crushed can of Lone Star nailed to a plaque. I partnered with Kristen, and we managed to beat the pants of everyone we played. Where was this luck during the season?

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After I left Ginny's, I biked home. On the way, I got a call from Mike. He and Vince were up on the top of the parking garage. His tire finally went flat, and he'd been trying to change it for a half-hour with no luck. Apparently, the lugnuts were stuck, so he couldn't get the spare on. The only other option was to re-inflate the tire (it's a slow leak), but he had no tire pump with him. I swung by campus and borrowed Vince's keys so I could go back to the house to return with Vince's car and my bicycle pump (hey, it's the only thing we had).

So, after 15 minutes, I arrive home, put up Gertie, and grab the pump and head out to Vince's car, only to realize that the ignition key was conspicuously missing from Vince's keys. The alarm/keyless entry thing was there, but no ignition key. I call Vince, and find out that Vince had thrown the keys from the top of the 5-story garage to Mike on the ground floor. Mike didn't catch them, and the plastic casing for the key must have broken off from the keyring when they hit the ground. So, with no other way to get back to campus, I haul Gertie out again and head back, bicycle pump in tow.

I finally get back to campus and take the elevator to the top level. It takes us 10 minutes to pump up the tire with the bicycle pump. I'll bet the rent-a-cops watching the security cameras were having a blast watching us. In case you're ever stuck in a similar situation, yes, it does work. It just takes a while.

At this point, Vince and Mike have been hanging out on top of the garage for an hour and a half. We decide we need a beer and food. So, we go to the crown. However, it's after midnight, and after midnight, the kitchen is closed.

That was pretty much how the night went.

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After going to wendys and HEB, I came back home and watched On the Waterfront with Marlon Brando. He's a pretty good actor, I have to say.





Update: It seems we are down to 1 working car. Vince's car didn't start this morning. :-(

bad drivers

Ok, so this is a pretty wierd story... that's still kinda on-going.

I was woken up this morning at 6:00 by a frantic pounding on our front door. I look out the door and see a red SUV spinning its tires in our front lawn. I was just in REM sleep, so I don't really realize that this is a problem quite yet. It takes me a minute to associate the pounding on the door with the fact that I should probably go answer it. I stumble to the door in nothing but my boxers (*blush*) It's one of our neighbors, and she's pretty excited. It doesn't take me long to realize why.

Anyway, the idiot behind the wheel manages to extricate his vehicle from the front lawn, narrowly missing Vince's car and the fire hydrant. This guys is probably drunk and/or high. After some more wheel spinning, he manages to remove his vehicle from the scene of the crime, wobbling off down the road on a flat tire.

Anyway, my neighbor saw the whole thing, and managed to get his license plate number, Apparently, before he plowed into our lawan, he clipped a car parked on the side of the road, smashing the right headlamp into smithereens, and also doing some damage to the side panel.

So, I go back inside and put some clothes on, and we write down the license plate number on a piece of paper and slip it underneath the windshield wiper of the damaged car. Hopefully they catch the bastard.

Birfday - Austin Style

So, as of tuesday, I've begun my second quarter century. To celebrate, I invited all my astronomy/domino/other friends out dinner. We decided to go to Conan's Pizza, a local Austin pizzeria dedicated and decorated with Conan the Barbarian artwork. After haggling over what type of pizzas to buy, we ended up ordering a total 8 pizzas for ~18 people. It was awesome.

After people finished eating, we headed next door to Vulcan Video. Unbeknownst to me, Mike Elliot was working that night. He hooked me up with a sweet birthday discount (i.e. free!) I asked him to recommend me a bad movie, something on the level of Hell Comes to Frogtown. Luckily, Vulcan didn't disappoint in this department. We rented 4 flicks. Class of 1984 (with a very young Michael J. Fox!), Lady Terminator (First she mates, then she terminates!), The New Barbarians, and Vince made me get Porno Holocaust. Don't worry, we didn't watch the last one... I think we just got it for the shock value.

Anyway, we retired back to mi casa, and watched the New Barbarians and drank some lone star and shiner and wine. After the first flick ended, the domino crowd retreated into the back room and we started tossing tiles. Mandy, Mike and Tammi showed up around this time. The astro crowd put on the next movie, Lady Terminator. I don't think I ended up winning the game I was playing, but I had fun anyway, which is all that really matters. Terry even showed up after the basketball game.

Thanks to everyone who came, even if only in spirit. I had a lot of fun.

BTW, Marci and Becks took me out to lunch b/c they had plans and couldn't make my super-impromtu excuse for a party. Much thanks, you two.

the bike ride from hell

Wow... What a ride. Really... Before you skim this entry, let me, if I may, run a small teaser by you to entice you to read the rest of the post....

Flat tires, car-bike collisions, fipping the bird, AND assault! Now are you interested? Read on.

Yesterday, Eric emailed me and asked if I wanted to go riding today. Since it's been a while since I took Gertie out, I readily agreed. I skipped out from work fairly early (5:30ish) and rode home to get ready. Around 5:45, Eric showed up. Apparently, he'd hit a pothole on his way over, and broken two of his spokes, so he was a little late. So, I donned my oh-so-fashionable yellow jersey I got from the Martindale Tri, and we were off.

The ride was fairly uneventful for the first 15 minutes. We crossed over 35 and started riding around downtown. Eric took the lead and we headed down the big hill on 15th street, across the Lamar bridge, and into the hoity-toity neighborhood over there. We were riding in traffic (with a red blinking light on my tukus, mind you) and were keeping up with the flow of traffic (it's pretty exhillirating on a bike, let me tell you!). Anyway, there was a lady in a Corrolla 50 yards in front of Eric, when all of a sudden, she decides to slam on the brakes. FOR NO APPARENT REASON!!! It was all Eric could do to stop in time. He said his wheels were skidding and his back tire was fish-tailing pretty bad, and he just barely managed to stop. The driver must have been lost or something because shortly after, the corrolla merged into the other lane and promptly did a U-turn.

So, after much cursing of bad drivers, we were off again. We toodled around the nice neighborhoods up there until Eric had a flat. Luckily, there was a street lamp nearby and he had all of his bike tools, so he was able to patch it fairly easily in ~15 minutes. At this point, Eric commented about how this bike ride was cursed. First, he breaks two spokes, next, he almost rear-ends a Corrolla, and now, he gets a flat tire. Under his breath, he mutters that probably next, he's going to break his leg.

After the flat, We rode up north, across MOPAC and back again. At 45th and Shoal Creek, we came to a 4-way stop. Eric waited his turn, and then charged out into the intersection. Ordinarily, this is not necessarily a bad thing. However, if it's dark, you don't have a headlight, and it's a busy road, I wouldn't necessarily advise it. Rather, I would wait until I was sure that all cars in the interesctions knew that I was there, and then cautiously cross. Not Eric. Before I knew it, he was on the bumper of a blue caprice. He didn't get hit all that hard, but it did bump him sideways a little bit. He got hit on his right side, but his left foot got stuck in the bindings of the pedal, and when he tried to put his left leg down to stabilize himself, he rolled his ankle pretty bad.

Luckily, both Eric and the bike were ok, as was the lady's car. She was pretty shook-up about it. I don't blame her. IMHO, Eric was as much at fault (if not more) than she was. His ankle is going to be pretty sore tomorrow. He's able to walk on it and was able to bike home, so I don't think anything was broken. Strained probably, but not broken. Hugh the firefighter (of Domino fame) was coincidentally at the same intersection in his fire truck. They stopped and made sure everything was ok.

So, after we recover from the latest scare, we decide we've had enough, and head home. We head back to my place on Dean Keeton. For those of you not lucky enough to reside in Austin, Dean Keeton is the street which separates the north of UT campus from the rest of the city. It's a fairly large street (6 lanes, 3 each way), well lit, but around 8:00 PM, it's not particularly busy. We're not moving particularly fast, because of Eric's ankle, and the fact that we're almost done. We are, however, taking up an entire lane in the 3-lane road. A group of three cars come up behind us and eventually passes us. One of the cars, Daddy's 1965 teal Ford Mustang (which is driven by a real douchebag, as you will soon find out) is stuck behind us. We are so inconsiderate, that he has to tap on his brakes for an entire 3 seconds while the other two cars pass us, so he can (not put on his blinker) whip around us. Now, it's totally fine to pass bikes on the road. Just don't maliciously swing back into our lane and cut us off. We are on 20 lb. pieces of aluminum which we are moving by raw sweat and tears. You are in control of a 1500 lb. piece of machinery you can drive while doing your nails or calling your frat brothers on your razor.

Anyway, he whips around us and cuts us off, proclaiming with his loud muffler, that despite whatever the sorority girls have been whispering, he does NOT have a small penis. Oh, and he flips us the bird. So, not to be out done, I flip him the bird back. Admittedly, not the smartest thing I've ever done, but dammit, this guy deserved it.

Now, he sees this, and instead of easing through the yellow light, since he was in such a hurry to get around us, he slams on his brakes, squealing his tires, jams the gears into park, and jumps out, and comes rushing towards us, obscenities spewing from his pretty-boy mouth. For those faint of heart, you may not want to read the following paraphrase:

"I could have f-ing made that light! What the f are you doing? Why the f are you taking up an entire lane?"

At this point, he's reached me and Eric, and comes up to me, plants both hands on my shoulders, and shoves me (still halfway on my bike, and in cycling shoes) to the ground. I was really in a state of shock, so I didn't really do anything except start cussing him out for a) cutting us off and b) flipping us the bird first. Now, I'm really wishing I'd come up swinging. To make a long story short, Eric and I cuss at him and he cusses at me and Eric for a minute or so. At this point, I think he realizes he's done something incredibly stupid, so he retreats to the car, mumbling something about "you better f-ing watch who you flip off in this town" No shit sherlock. You too. You'd better watch who you assault.

Eric and I take about 5 minutes to decompress before we head home. On the way there, we talk about the fact that there's probably not too many teal 1965 mustangs around town, and his car shouldn't be too hard to find. If only we'd gotten the license plate number.

We arrive in my neighborhood, and as we turn the corner onto my street, Eric says "You've gotta be f-ing kidding me." Sure enough, parked next to the side of our house (there's an appartment complex next to our house) was a teal 1965 mustang. We put our bikes inside and I run out side with a pencil and paper and grab his license plate number. Texas Plates: P36-LCZ.

So, I've got a few ideas. I'm going to call the cops tomorrow and file a complaint. Probably nothing will come of it, but I'm going to ask if they could at least send him a brouchure about how bikes have the same rights/responsibilities as any other vehicle on the road. I'm also going to go to the bike shop tomorrow and buy a dozen "Be Kind to Cyclists" bumper stickers. The next time I see this mustang, I'm plastering the chrome with these things. Maybe some shoe polish too.

Any suggestions as to how to get retribution? Jill? what are my chances with the cops? The only other eyewitness is Eric.

Geez, I'm pissed off. I'm actually a very safe cyclist. Unlike Eric, I go off the assumption that cars do not see me, and I'll take my right of way when I'm sure that I'm not going to get ground into the pavement. I wait at red lights, I at least slow down at all stop signs, and stop if there's a car there. Oh, and by the way, Cyclists are supposed to take up an entire lane. It lessens the chances of a road-rage fueled maniac trying to squeeze through an opening and running us off the road.

Douchebag.

crack whores in Austin

Ok, now I've seen everything...

Vince and I had some friends staying with us in Austin for ACL and the Sufjan concert. Kit and I were in the living room watching some TV, and Daniel was outside talking on his cell phone. I went into the restroom. While I was in there, there was apparently a knock at the door.

Thinking it was Daniel, Kit opened the door. Standing outside was a woman in hippie garb (burka, sandals, etc...) She asked if she could come in. Thinking she was one of my friends, Kit let her in.

About this time, I walked back into the room. Her back was to me, so I thought that this was one of Vince or Kit's friends, but it soon became apparent she was not.

Her feet were dirty and she had a kinda desparate look on her face. Something right out of Requiem for a Dream.

She (probably) concocted a story about a black lady who was hassling her and how she just wanted to come in to get away from her. Being the naieve person I am, I kinda sorta believed her. I offered to let her use a phone or call the cops or something. She didn't seem to respond to that. She kept asking if there was a party going on, to which we responded we were headed to bed.

She then started repeating that she "could pay," and that she "was cool," and kept offering to turn us on. At this point we flat-out, categorically denied that ANY of us needed to be turned on by her. She was kinda agitated at this point and was walking further into the house, looking in all the rooms. I got her turned around and corralled her to the living room, right next to the front door. At this point, she sat down on the couch and started reaching in her bag.

By the time I figured out what she was doing, it was too late. A vagrant hippie crack whore was smoking a rock on our couch in our living room! I really didn't know what to do. Vince had retreated into the back room hoping the problem would fix itself. Kit was in the kitchen with an apologetic expression on his face mouthing the words "no physical contact," with which, I heartily agreed.

The moment she was done, I hurried over to the door and asked her to leave. Thankfully, she did. I locked the door behind her.

She kept wondering around the neighborhood for at least an hour, stoned out of her mind...

Was she casing the place? I hope not, but I think she was too high to do much of anything.

Should I have called the cops? Probably. Of course, she probably got picked up soon after.

I hope she's getting help. Drugs can f-up your life. For the rest of the evening, I kept thinking what her family must think about her... whether they know she's a druggie, if they even care, or if they even keep in touch.

Kinda sad really.

Overheard in a Burger King

Wow... I'm sitting next to a crazy girl and her bf in Burger King. That's right, Burger King has free wireless in Austin, TX. (Did i mention I love this town?)

So far, she's been talking about the following things:

"I should just put up an ad on Craigslist and see if someone just wants to give me money, no strings attached. See, normal kids have people who do this. They're called Parents. Mine don't do that."

"I don't have any idea what Hezbolla is, nor do I care."

"I think fast food restraunts should have a scale right inside the door. If you're too fat, it kicks you out."

Crazy.

A night at the alamo

I. Love. The. Alamo.

They did a Queen Sing-a-long tonight. It was glorious. They played Fat Bottomed Girls, Killer Queen, Bicycle, Don't Stop Me Now, and to finish it all off, Bohemian Rhapsody. It was so cool.

If I were gay, I would be ga-ga for Freddy Mercury. As it is, I think he's pretty awesome.

Anyway, at the Alamo, I sat next to another astro student, and she grilled me on the tryst I had last semester with a certain other astro grad student. Kinda made me realize that I'd been a bit of an asshole about the whole thing... I should probably call/email/talk to her about it. Hopefully we can still be amicable about the whole damn thing.

I'm watching the office right now. It's solid gold genius. Ricky Gervis is a comedy god.

Bike Thiefs Suck!

Yeah... So my bike got stolen last week. Through my own stupidity, really. I had my bike in the back of a friend's truck while we went to eat. When we finished, I hauled my bike out and headed home. The unfortunate thing was, somewhere between my apartment and his truck, I lost my bike lock. I returned to the parking lot and tried in vain to find it, but to no avail.

Anyway, I kept my bike inside for that night, and kept my bike in the library during the day. I kept this up for a day or so, until my friend Greg came to stay with me. He's sleeping on the couch, so I didn't want to crowd him, and I put the bike out on the rail, like I usually do. I even went through the farce of pretending to fumble with a lock and "lock" it to the rail.

This worked for a night. I was pretty busy the next day, so I didn't manage to make it to the bike store to buy a new one, and I was also holding out hope that my friend would find it in his truck.

I tried the farce for a second night, and it worked again. By the third night, I was pretty sure that I could get away with it again. However, I was indeed planning on buying a new lock. I even said to Greg as we walked past a bicycle store, "I need to buy a new lock." That very night, my bike was stolen from off my balcony...

I walked outside the next morning, and my heart sunk into my stomach. I've pseudo-lost my bike several times before, but that was just because I forgot where I parked it. There wasn't even a glimmer of hope that I might have parked it somewhere else.

So, I called the Po-po... I reported it as stolen. I guess I've got a shot, because my driver's license is engraved underneath the bottom bracket.

My guess right now is that a homeless guy took it. I've seen them joyriding on bikes which obviously weren't theirs before... Hopefully they dump it in a location the cops frequent.

Oh well... gives me an excuse to finally buy that road bike I've been wanting... it looks like there are some good deals on Craigslist.

Moral of the story: Inconvenience your friends or buy a damb lock.

Gotta love Austin....

Well, the good news is that it looks like my health insurance will pay for most of my adventure in Zermatt.

After spending a week in Switzerland where the temperature rarely got above 40 F, I find it rather amusing when I see sorority girls bundled up with their fuzzy Ugs (aside: I think Ugs are just about the UGliest things on the planet.) a sweater, a scarf, and a faux-fur lined jacket walking around campus when the temperature is a balmy 55 F. Maybe I'm still thawing out, but I think these people are wimps.

So there are a lot of homeless guys who live around my apt... I was walking to the Crown last night when one of them approached me. He had a bottle of something in his hand.
Homeless dude: -jabbers incoherently-
Me: I'm sorry?
Homeless dude: Do you know... Do you know who the fuck I am?
Me: No......
Homeless dude: I'm a Jinjitsu master... I can take you to Area 51 and KICK YOUR ASS!!
Me: .....

At that point, I walked away. He followed for a few steps and then got distracted and went off in another direction...

It may be wishful thinking, but I think there are several (read: 2 maybe 3) girls who may be interested in me... Maybe not... Do not need another relationship anytime soon, but some fun would not be a bad thing either...