In a couple hours, I'm leaving with my best friend from childhood, Steve and his friend from undergrad (also named Steve) to embark on our adventure to:
1. camp and kayak in the Florida keys, my old stomping ground.
2. ring in the new year at a swanky nightclub in South Beach
3. go to the Orange Bowl!
I planned the trip and did all of our booking. We're getting away with 5 nights in south florida for right over 200 bucks. Not bad, eh? Camping saves money! It's hella more fun than a hotel too.
We're staying on Boca Chita Key, an island in the northern keys accessible only by boat. No electricity, fresh water, completely uninhabited. There are crocs, coral snakes AND alligators, too! They won't come near us though, for I am armed with my sharp-ass buck knife and sweet-ass cowboy beach hat. When I wear that hat, I suddenly become badder than Chuck Norris. True story.
I'm actually more hyped for the camping than I am for the rest of the trip. I think I just need some RnR. However, New Years will be nuts. My boy T.I. is hosting a New Year's party in South Beach that we might try to get into. We're also going to a tailgate party with Lil' wayne. Knowing that I'm gonna be in the same city as these two for New Year's Eve, how will I possibly return to Kentucky WITHOUT getting knocked up?!?!?!
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Hometown x-mas
It's been fabulous having a couple days to visit family, but more than 3 days of it is all I can handle. It's not my family, or our home, or much of anything we can control. I love my family dearly, I grew up in a nice home, and it's all quite comfortable. However, it's stuck in BFE: no shopping, few educated people, very few people I actually wanna see, etc. It's more depressing than anything really. Everyone stays in this shitty town, hangs out at wal-mart, gets fat and lives off the government. Three things I will never do. So, I have very little in common with anyone around this town.
Another crappy thing: People who never gave a shit about me when I was a lanky art chick suddenly care about what I'm doing, and ask about my accomplishments. What motivates them to do this? Not the sincere interest in my life and well-being, like one might have for a close friend, but instead their curiosity. "Is this person better off than I am? Are they making more money? Are they more successful?" Forget being genuine and compassionate, so many people I've run into have asked only to size-up themselves. It's super-crappy. So, I've decided that next time I come home, I'm not talking about writing or anything like that. I think by then I might be a janitor or a stripper. Just to give others that validation they so desperately need. I am a do-gooder.
Let's end on a not-crappy note: My parents are awesome and we never have a bad time together. We drank my home made beer, told stories, jokes, etc. and had a ball. They love my insignificant anecdotes and historical facts, which I, in turn, love. Some unforgettable quotes (somewhat explanatory of how I turned out to be a libertarian):
"Fox news is the only reliable, fair and unbiased news station on television." -my father, unfortunately.
"Jesus was a pot head. That's how he did all of that healing. The Apostles, they were just groupies, man." -my mother, in our conversation about the age-old use of medicinal marijuana and hallucinogens as part of the spiritual rites of many ancient cultures.
Somehow, I ended up right in the middle. Funny how things work out, eh?
Another crappy thing: People who never gave a shit about me when I was a lanky art chick suddenly care about what I'm doing, and ask about my accomplishments. What motivates them to do this? Not the sincere interest in my life and well-being, like one might have for a close friend, but instead their curiosity. "Is this person better off than I am? Are they making more money? Are they more successful?" Forget being genuine and compassionate, so many people I've run into have asked only to size-up themselves. It's super-crappy. So, I've decided that next time I come home, I'm not talking about writing or anything like that. I think by then I might be a janitor or a stripper. Just to give others that validation they so desperately need. I am a do-gooder.
Let's end on a not-crappy note: My parents are awesome and we never have a bad time together. We drank my home made beer, told stories, jokes, etc. and had a ball. They love my insignificant anecdotes and historical facts, which I, in turn, love. Some unforgettable quotes (somewhat explanatory of how I turned out to be a libertarian):
"Fox news is the only reliable, fair and unbiased news station on television." -my father, unfortunately.
"Jesus was a pot head. That's how he did all of that healing. The Apostles, they were just groupies, man." -my mother, in our conversation about the age-old use of medicinal marijuana and hallucinogens as part of the spiritual rites of many ancient cultures.
Somehow, I ended up right in the middle. Funny how things work out, eh?
astro turf!
As a huge fan of both David Bowie AND Flight of the Conchords, it doesn't get much better than episode 6 from season one, "Bowie":
(this is my fav clip from the episode)
(this is my fav clip from the episode)
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Britney: Is it possible to time travel speed?
I just remembered this and decided it was awesome enough to watch again and post. I fuckin' love Brit. We would kick it, if she and I knew each other. I already have several friends that I keep around for their quotability (among other shining attributes, of course) and Britney is most certainly quotable.
Does my accent get this thick when I get crunk?
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