overthinking

words can’t describe how happy this makes me.

they were taking pictures at the Fuck Yeah Fest this weekend.

not bad, if i do say so myself. maybe i CAN rock the short hair. and don’t b look h-o-t?

team robespierre was high energy, the death set are the best live show i’ve seen since puberty (and that’s a looong while), and matt and kim make you smile and laugh and dance
all night.

this window sits open all day and all night, because i don’t want to lose this link.

i know somewhere i can put it, so that i will always have it

here

it ain’t picasso, but it ain’t bad.

my writing at the austinist.com

this past week has been like summer camp.

b. stopped working, and we spent every day biking down to crystal clear springwater, watching dogs chase each other and tennis balls and their own tails.

there was also actual camping, but the fire ants and the millions of stickers made that a little bit less like camp than actual life.

i’ve been writing too…but not here. on a site that gets about a million more hits than this one. and that expects i will write with a little more planning, forethought, and self-editing than i do here on this “personal” blog. for example:

the other day, in the bathroom, i zipped up my pants and my penis got caught.

ouch. that’s right. i pulled a “there’s something about mary.” i will be wantting to wear underwear forEVER now. now going commando any more. it felt like i needed to pee. but that it was going to hurt. and also, i didn’t actually need to pee.

it sucked, basically. seriously. seriously. SUCKED.

thought someone might find that amusing.

it was a turn of phrase used to characterize me by someone who knows me well enough to know how true it is. (hint: my mom.)

unemployed, fresh out of school, as comfortable sleeping in then scrolling the net for blogs and/or job ops as actually earning a buck. wanting to travel before i get “old” and “settle down,” even as i realize that i kinda am both of those things already.

still want to party every weekend, but these days, “party” often means watching a dvd with a dog on my lap and my girl on the couch beside me.

what the hell do normal 35 year olds do? if they’re like in the movies, they just buy houses, have real jobs, wear suits, and…i don’t know, have kids, i guess. i know some people like that.

it’s good and bad, i suppose. it’s nice that when b. makes a joke about how old i am, i can make an off color (and incredibly immature) response using full-body gesticulations that would get you thrown into prison in most communist countries.

but it sucks that making those festures often comes with a loud popping sound that indicates that my hips don’t move like they used ta.

there was a karaoke party recently.

there was music. there were microphones. there was singing. there were korean videos. there were words that change colors as you’re supposed to sing them. and most important of all: there was )i believe the technical term is ) “a-drinky-drinky.”

it was great fun.

this is the result of such madness.

after waiting 19 years for the next indiana jones picture, i knew it had to be opening night at the alamo.

that was only way to do it up right.

they had special themed meals. i wore my fedora. (second place in the indy lookalike competition! i lost to a kid that bothered to wear khackis and a button up shirt in addition to the hat [also there was no actual competition per se]).

but the coup de grace–the touch that makes the alamo the alamo–was the snake wranglers.

hadn’t seen them since the ‘snakes on a plane’ premiere. it was good to see them again.

maybe it was the prodigious amounts of beer consumed (two bathroom breaks! i’m losing my ability to hold it!)–some would say so–but i quite enjoyed it. equal parts nostalgia and camp mixed with some serious action sequences, and bunch of knowing winks to the ‘true fans.’ what more could a guy ask for?

as birthday movies go, i’d say it’s up there.  definitely better than ‘mission impossible.’

last saturday, a bunch of kids walked across a stage in square blue hats. they shook the hand of an old guy in a long robe, and they received a piece of paper. music played.

i wasn’t there. but maybe they called my name.

(although, now that that i think about it, i imagine they have a pretty solid system of removing the names of people that didn’t bother to go. the ceremony’s long enough as it is, without saying a few hundred names and waiting five seconds, noticing no one’s moving, and then going on to the next.

yes friends, i’m an honest to goodness college graduate now. should be getting my own piece of paper in the mail soon.

and on top of that, i turn 35 in two days.

35. if you spell it out, it looks like this:

thirty five. here it is with a hyphen:

thirty-five.

i didn’t bother to go. i’m old enough to be most of the other graduates’…well, not father, i suppose, but..you know…wacky uncle. i couldn’t imagine asking people to come sit through the air horns and the unpronounceable names and kids waving shyly at cheering parents. besides the ten seconds where that waving kid is you, it’s just everybody fidgeting in chairs thinking, “good lord, when will this be OVER?”

it’s a lot like church in that way.

instead, i went to the O.Henry Pun Off, where it was much too hard to hear, and had lunch at freddie’s.

i am truly a grown up.

psst.

come here a sec.

i wanted to let you know, so you can be in on the ground floor of this thing:

“ridiculous?” as a word? it’s out.

yeah, i was using it too much, and i noticed it’s not just me: everyone seems to be, and so i’ve decided we have to eliminate it from the cultural vocabulary.

in its place? bonkers.

try it. you’ll like it.