Tag Archives: K

Playing the Ice Harbor Brewing Co.

Music, , , ,

In which there’s a trip to the Tri-cities.

I went and saw my stylist Saturday afternoon for a cut and color. I said I was doing a lot of gigs this summer and that I needed hair I could scrunch up into curls easily… so bitch chopped all my hair off! I have a totally asymmetrical, VERY SHORT razor bob and I’m still a little weird about it, but Curtis & Syl said it was hawt and teh BF likes it, so I guess it’s okay. Color’s good, at least, even if I don’t have bright enough highlights.

My new hair and I played a brewery Saturday night with the boys. (K’s pics of the event are here, because he’s even more of a cell phone camera whore than I am.) People in Walla Walla talk about the Tri-cities in rather the same way that people in Fairfield talk about Ottumwa, so I was surprised at how awesome the crowd was at Saturday night’s gig in Kennewick (which happens to be the town I was born in). They were enthusiastic, friendly, and they clapped after solos. They danced. They followed us outside during breaks and told us we were awesome. We got an ovation, even. The room sounded good and the vibe was great.

But, being a brewery the place only served beer – which I don’t really drink – so I had Pepsi and water all night and made K take me out for cocktails THE VERY INSTANT we rolled into W2 at 12:30a. He took me to the Stone, where we listened to three adorable twenty-year-old skater boys tell us all about their various broken bones and trips to hospitals. The bartender gave me a glass of merlot because he didn’t have a cork for the bottle and couldn’t save it. We rolled out of there about an hour later and went to K’s, where we stayed up late. Really late. Ahem.

On Sunday, we lazed around a lot and accomplished nothing of interest to anyone but ourselves. Monday, we bought groceries and vodka. K mowed his lawn. I made portabella capellini for dinner – a culinary triumph! – and we ate in the shed because the weather was being almost decent. I crashed at K’s again last night and caught a ride to work with him this morning.

I haven’t seen my own house since Saturday afternoon ’round 4:30, and I feel vaguely guilty about it.

In other news, my dress arrived today! Maybe it’ll warm up enough for me to actually wear it this summer.

Twitter, Plurk. Zing. Pow.

LOTD, Web, , ,

In which there are links.

A new Twitter-like site was launched recently. It’s called, for no apparent reason, Plurk. It’s basically Twitter with a cuter GUI, and doesn’t, as far as I can tell, do anything new. I signed up for an account (because I’m a whore and have to try all the new junk on the ‘net) but won’t switch entirely to Plurk until there’s a WordPress plugin for it and/or it proves to be more stable than Twitter.

Feeling conflicted about cheating on Twitter, I started using Ping.fm (per Vuboq‘s advice) to update all my services simultaneously, and now I’m running totally redundant content all over the damn web.

I really hope all this shit is useful to my beloved future AI, who will mine it all to use in personality modeling. (Other people have children or build monuments. My beloved future AI will immortalize me by basing part of itself on all the shit I’ll leave on the ‘net when I die. Blog posts, book lists, tracks listened to, purchases, blah blah blah. I’m so well-documented!) Because there really can’t be any other good use for all this meaningless chatter.

Although I do love reading my friends’ Twitters on my cell phone (when Twitter’s actually working, that is) as I go about my day. Keeps me feeling close to people who live on the other side of the country, or even on other continents, and that’s really the most hopeful application of technology, innit? Community!

In other news, teh BF is still hawt and I’m having way better sex than you. Srsly. WAY better. Like, omfgwtfbbq better it’s freaking ASTONISHING I am so totally not kidding!

My life rocks like a ship at sea, but there ain't much to blog.

Admissions, , , ,

In which there’s so much going on that it’s totally like there ain’t nothin’ goin’ on. Know what I mean?

I’d like to write something brilliant and witty today.

But I’m not going to, because I’m currently one of those useless, in-a-new-relationship, cheesy, goofy, drippy, self-absorbed peeps who can’t think about anything other than her own condition. (It’s baaaaaaad, my babies. You’re so lucky you’re not a fly on the wall ’round here lately, because you’d get freakin’ diabetes. Srsly.)

On the surface, everything is pretty normal. I work my day job. I eat and sleep and talk on the phone. I could make a laundry list of the things I’ve been doing – work, drive, drink, eat, talk, laugh, cry, cuddle, sleep – but the shit that’s really been going on is intense. We talk all the time, we’re still not getting enough sleep, we eat at odd hours, we’ve been known to kill a bottle of vodka in two sessions, and we’re lucky we haven’t been arrested for smoking naked in his driveway in the middle of the night. (Okay, so we only did that once.) We’re hopelessly geeked on each other and it rawks.

I am completely neglecting my Gramma and my dog. I spend nearly all of my free time at K’s. When I swing through my house, I’m there to shower or pick something up. Gramma’s given me some good-natured shit about the fact that I’m out all the time, but at least in the following breath she allows that I’m “old enough to make [my] own decisions.” It’s SO WEIRD to be only a few months from my 40th birthday and in a living situation that makes me feel vaguely naughty about coming home the morning after to shower and change before work. Hah!

Tomorrow I fly out of ALW at 11:20 AM, off to Seattle to spend five days with Mother. I will eat Indian food and meditate and get darshan and drink chai and spend money at the bookstore and attend the retreat and it will be wonderful.