Thursday, June 30, 2005
Happy Birthday America--KABOOM!
I am not a BAD person. I don't break the law too often (although, I haven't had my car inspected and it was due last November). I will err on the side of care and legality 9 times out of 10.
Is it because I have this great moral calling?
No, its just because I don't like paying tickets and I like sitting in jail even less. Trust me. It's not as glamourous as it is in the movies.
So, when I drove up to the American Fireworks stand just off Anderson Mill Road this afternoon, I had full intention of getting some sparklers and whatnot since those were the type of "fireworks" that are legal in the city of Austin.
But when you are standing in front of that huge white stand, something else takes over.
I bravely asked for 6 boxes of multi colored sparklers and some of those things that stay on the ground and make noise and spark and shit (Seriously, that is what it said on the box) and no no no, I can't buy roman candles.
"BUY MEEEE!! People won't love you if they come to your 4th of july party and you don't have roman candles!!!" they taunted.
So I leaned in and said "uhh..and....a pack of those roman candles" in that tone normally reserved for teenage boys buying condoms.
And I paid and ran back to my car, convinced Johnny Law was hiding behind the tree waiting to find out just exactly where I and my city illegal fireworks were going in my car with an expired sticker.
But no sirens. No cop. Just me, and my lame pyrotechnics. If you're reading this and are looking for something to do Monday, wanna come to a party and light some stuff on fire? I'll even let you split the cost of the ticket I may get with me.
I am not a BAD person. I don't break the law too often (although, I haven't had my car inspected and it was due last November). I will err on the side of care and legality 9 times out of 10.
Is it because I have this great moral calling?
No, its just because I don't like paying tickets and I like sitting in jail even less. Trust me. It's not as glamourous as it is in the movies.
So, when I drove up to the American Fireworks stand just off Anderson Mill Road this afternoon, I had full intention of getting some sparklers and whatnot since those were the type of "fireworks" that are legal in the city of Austin.
But when you are standing in front of that huge white stand, something else takes over.
I bravely asked for 6 boxes of multi colored sparklers and some of those things that stay on the ground and make noise and spark and shit (Seriously, that is what it said on the box) and no no no, I can't buy roman candles.
"BUY MEEEE!! People won't love you if they come to your 4th of july party and you don't have roman candles!!!" they taunted.
So I leaned in and said "uhh..and....a pack of those roman candles" in that tone normally reserved for teenage boys buying condoms.
And I paid and ran back to my car, convinced Johnny Law was hiding behind the tree waiting to find out just exactly where I and my city illegal fireworks were going in my car with an expired sticker.
But no sirens. No cop. Just me, and my lame pyrotechnics. If you're reading this and are looking for something to do Monday, wanna come to a party and light some stuff on fire? I'll even let you split the cost of the ticket I may get with me.
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Hey! Its a crazy idea but it just might work
Ya'll, I keep a lot of these journal things all over the place.
And why do I never post here? Because I was stubborn and didn't want to use Movable Type or Blogger or anything and when I'd sit down to write my ADD would kick in while designing the page.
And while I loved the unique look to each of my entries, I am a busy busy girl. And by "busy" I mean "lazy".
In the coming days, I'll be moving some of those entries I've published elsewhere onto here so keep eyes open.
As of late, I have had several comments stating something akin to "You should write a book. You write so well", to which I reply "Yes. Yes, I should".
And Friday, I was browsing around Amazon and realised that FOUR people I know have been published in book form. Four. Four who were just like me with a website and a need to push a life story onto other people.
This, of course, will not do. I need to be published in some way, shape, or form. Book? I don't know. Essay/short story in magazine? Hmm...I could do that. It will be interesting to see how well received my This American Life story will be (more about that to follow in the coming days)
I just don't want to be here next year, saying "So, someone else I know got published. Always a bridesmaid and never a bride"
And speaking of brides, my friend Wammo is getting hitched sometime soon and is having his celebratory shindig on September 17th and I need a date. Well, I don't NEED a date. As far as I know, I won't be turned away by some bouncer behind a velvet rope because I don't have someone on my arm but, this will be the first wedding I have attended as a single woman and I have this nightmarish vision where women who show up single to a wedding reception are ushered to some spinster table, which sits just between the kids table and the door to the alley. And there I'll sit with someone's geriatric Aunt Mabel who will spend the evening showing me photos of her cats while all the pretty girls with dates will dance and laugh and talk about how they are going to "summer" with their beau in the Hamptons. And as they pass by our table, they will look at me and sigh and mutter "Oh, that poor thing. I hear she wanted to be a writer", and then shake their heads in pity.
I will be taking applications for a date in the weeks to follow. Applicants should be clever, good conversationalist, free of offensive body odor, able to hold their liquor, and willing to say key phrases at the right time, such as :
"Yeah, Stephanie sure is something"
"We were thinking of summering in the Hamptons but that is so passe, don't you think?"
"I really do hope that when Stephanie's article is printed in The New Yorker, she doesn't forget about us little people. I know she'll be busy rubbing elbows with David Remnick but I hope she still has time for me. I guess such is the life of a famous writer".
Applicants may also be called back for an event next summer, hereafter known as "10-year High School Reunion"
Ya'll, I keep a lot of these journal things all over the place.
And why do I never post here? Because I was stubborn and didn't want to use Movable Type or Blogger or anything and when I'd sit down to write my ADD would kick in while designing the page.
And while I loved the unique look to each of my entries, I am a busy busy girl. And by "busy" I mean "lazy".
In the coming days, I'll be moving some of those entries I've published elsewhere onto here so keep eyes open.
As of late, I have had several comments stating something akin to "You should write a book. You write so well", to which I reply "Yes. Yes, I should".
And Friday, I was browsing around Amazon and realised that FOUR people I know have been published in book form. Four. Four who were just like me with a website and a need to push a life story onto other people.
This, of course, will not do. I need to be published in some way, shape, or form. Book? I don't know. Essay/short story in magazine? Hmm...I could do that. It will be interesting to see how well received my This American Life story will be (more about that to follow in the coming days)
I just don't want to be here next year, saying "So, someone else I know got published. Always a bridesmaid and never a bride"
And speaking of brides, my friend Wammo is getting hitched sometime soon and is having his celebratory shindig on September 17th and I need a date. Well, I don't NEED a date. As far as I know, I won't be turned away by some bouncer behind a velvet rope because I don't have someone on my arm but, this will be the first wedding I have attended as a single woman and I have this nightmarish vision where women who show up single to a wedding reception are ushered to some spinster table, which sits just between the kids table and the door to the alley. And there I'll sit with someone's geriatric Aunt Mabel who will spend the evening showing me photos of her cats while all the pretty girls with dates will dance and laugh and talk about how they are going to "summer" with their beau in the Hamptons. And as they pass by our table, they will look at me and sigh and mutter "Oh, that poor thing. I hear she wanted to be a writer", and then shake their heads in pity.
I will be taking applications for a date in the weeks to follow. Applicants should be clever, good conversationalist, free of offensive body odor, able to hold their liquor, and willing to say key phrases at the right time, such as :
"Yeah, Stephanie sure is something"
"We were thinking of summering in the Hamptons but that is so passe, don't you think?"
"I really do hope that when Stephanie's article is printed in The New Yorker, she doesn't forget about us little people. I know she'll be busy rubbing elbows with David Remnick but I hope she still has time for me. I guess such is the life of a famous writer".
Applicants may also be called back for an event next summer, hereafter known as "10-year High School Reunion"