Who and a hat?

22 Feb

[It’s so quiet and damp and dark around here. Why not hit publish on something that’s been sitting in the draft folder for nearly a year. You miss this stuff, right?]

Last month I left my beautiful, charming, and wholesome friends in Iowa to move in with my sister in Michigan while I get my ducks in a row. My ducks have been acting up. One of my final acts before packing up was to kick back with two of my favorites for margaritas and Camera Obscura. It did not take long for me to lock onto the guitarist with his matte balding head + general broadness. It’s my most basic formula. Then he used a microphone to reveal his Scottish brogue and I got so excited I punched Jason (of the socks). His name is Kenny. Let’s look at his profile on the band’s site.

I am charmed by his current favorite animals and now I’ve been reading AE Housman all morning [Kenny has since swapped AE Housman for a sexy poem about strawberries]. Here’s one that should set you in the right mood for Monday. Make sure you read it in a Scottish voice.


Yonder see the morning blink:
The sun is up, and up must I,
To wash and dress and eat and drink
And look at things and talk and think
And work, and God knows why.

Oh often have I washed and dressed
And what’s to show for all my pain?
Let me lie abed and rest:
Ten thousand times I’ve done my best
And all’s to do again.

Roll over! Stay home! Sunday up with Hitchcock instead. [Sunday up. A typo or a new phrase I was trying out?]

And now the hat. Remember?

While wearing this hat, I have received compliments such as “That hat is so lumpy!” Totally worth $4. I edited the picture to look like binocular vision because the picture was taken before a run and Meg and I have been listening to an audiobook I scored mid-roadtrip for $2 in which ladies spurn their lovers’ early-morning advances to go running and then the ladies get brutally raped AND lose an eye. So that’s been on my mind. Binocular plotting.


Look what I didn’t kill

23 Jul

What’s on her Special K Protein Plus?

12 Jul

Welcome to my bistro

11 Jul

This is my new patio. I am currently serving strawberry-basil-vodka-lemonade. The instructions are pretty much revealed in the title, but I know you want to replicate this scene so I will keep sharing.

1. Get a patio.

2. Get a crummy book which you are skimming to finish.

3. Throw a pint of strawberries in the blender, or the closest thing you have to a blender.

4. Muddle a handful of basil with a couple of strawberries and some Tanqueray* vodka. And some lemon juice if your lemon isn’t rotten. My approach to muddling is that it’s just like it sounds.

5. To a container you can drink out of, combine one part vodka muddle with one part strawberry puree. Fill with lemonade. Add ice if your freezer makes ice. Mine does not.

6. Take a sip. Say “This ain’t boozy enough,” outloud to no one, and add more vodka. Add basil, too, to make that last step seem like a culinary decision.

7. Sit, drink, pretend to read.

*because that’s what Darcy drinks

My first hate note!

20 Jun

This was followed by a verbal confrontation.

Unauthorized bumping

17 Jun

My sister Meghan and I were messing around with the Bump app by Bump Technologies. Does this work for you? We slammed our phones together for at least ten minutes trying to get a connection. We tried top bumps and side bumps, mutual bumps and give/take bumps. Then out of nowhere Meghan received and accepted a bump from a stranger named Jesse. Before I could stop her, she sent him this photo of me sleeping. He did not reciprocate.

Jesse might be my parents’ retired neighbor. I will never ask.

Seeking new music

16 Jun

I finally followed this formula to calculate my play density! I lost all of my play count data when my computer died last November, so no one can mock me for having Jesus Take The Wheel in my top 25 anymore. It turns out listening to albums on repeat makes a boring list. But I think #36 — part three of an Agatha Christie mystery — makes it worth sharing. Apparently it took eight listens to figure out who killed everyone.