I love Chest Hair

TMI?

Maybe.

But I'm glad someone else feels the same way and felt the need to write about it.

I couldn't put this more eloquently myself; "When I meet a guy for the first time, I have no problem with his eyes wandering south for a second to check out my rack—that’s when I steal a glance at the little slip of landscape peeking out from the collar of his shirt. Is it heavily forested, gently grassy, or just a desert-like stretch of flesh, with nary a hair in sight to provide shade?"

I'm too afraid to wax poetic myself on chest hair at the moment. My Dad doesn't need to read about his daughter's acquired turn-on's (Dad, hopefully you haven't read this far yet, otherwise I'm kind of embarrassed right now).

Here are some pics of the Princes of Chest Hair. Tell me who you think takes the King Title!

Austin Day 67- This Town is Too Cool. I Can't Deal.

A funnel thought cloud has been brewing in my brain. A thought that's made me feel something I should have felt at fourteen. A sprinkling of insecurity, a dash of jealousy, and a whole lotta not feeling like I fit in.

Austin is cool. It's too cool.

Now, I'm cool too. I've been cool because I've lived in not cool places (cool being extremely relative to begin with). I was the odd ball who wore horn-rimmed glasses, suspenders, and wigs and listened to David Bowie records in high school in Upstate New York. I was the girl in college who made a Frank Zappa mask for her Religion course and put quotes from "Kids in the Hall" on her dorm door. In L.A. I was the girl who, well, didn't have fake breasts, a perpetual tan, or go to clubs.

But here in Austin, well shit, they all wear fucking horn-rimmed glasses and suspenders and love David Byrne and Frank Zappa and have perfectly pale skin and twig limbs and thick bangs and expensive bicycles and flannel shirts and witty counter-part significant others...and FUCK! I just don't feel like I'm the cool, odd girl anymore. What a terrible, terrible feeling.

Last week, my incredibly awesome and well-coiffed friend Patrick and I co-hosted a STOP MAKING SENSE screening/dance party. We discovered that we both mutually love Talking Heads and wanted to share that love with others. After lack of communication on who was going to bring the movie (my DVD is in L.A., Patrick doesn't own it), we had to do an emergency trip to I Luv Video on Guadalupe.

Uh oh.

Now I had only read about I Luv Video. It's the sort of place that Kevin Smith would write movies about. I was warned that there is absolutely no way to impress the clerks. No matter how vast your film knowledge may be, they don't give a shit. On the way to the store, we joked that STOP MAKING SENSE wouldn't be at the store because there was a good chance other hipsters were hosting a STOP MAKING SENSE screening/dance party that night too. We get to the place and low and be hold, all the clerks were wearing horn-rimmed glasses.

Sigh.

I look for the movie in the"Music" section while Patrick looks in the "Jonathan Demme" section. Of course it was in the Jonathan Demme section! How could I be so silly? While I continued scavenging the music section for other interesting movies, I noticed the DVD for the doc TV PARTY which I saw at the Tribeca Film Festival three years ago. Not only is the movie about a little known cable access show from the Lower East Side of Manhattan in the 70's starring Glenn O'Brien, Deborah Harry, Chris Stein and often showcasing their friends The Ramones, Talking Heads, Charles Rocket, Jean-Michel Basquiat, and Klaus Nomi, but I was at the premiere and got to see Fab Five Freddy, Deborah Harry and Chris Stein perform, and talk to Charles Rocket. If this didn't impress the clerks, what could!? I causally mention all this to Patrick as he pays for the movie. I look up. No reaction. So, then I nonchalantly mention the tragic story of how Charles Rocket slit his own throat not long after the movie premiered (do me a favor and click on the link for Charles Rocket. he was a very talented and interesting man who deserves to be remembered.). NOTHING! They're like fucking robots! Nothing can get past their cool, smileless, horn-rimmed exterior! I left upset and confused. Where did I move to? One giant town full of NYU rejects?

That night after I Luv Video and after the party, I lied in bed feeling really uncool. My endless knowledge of pop culture means nothing here. My six pairs of non-prescription glasses impress no one. My love for David Byrne, David Bowie, and Danny Elfman falls in line with the countless others who have really awesome music taste in this town.

And the worst part about this all, is that all these people like me, who came from small towns and got made fun of for wearing bowler hats in high school, look really really good in pencil pants and I don't.

I need to move back to L.A. where being the weird one meant something.

(Seth made a good point that L.A. is weird too, but in a wonderfully unself-aware way. Is that a word?)

The Things You Think About at 2AM and Delirious with a Fever

All the characters names from "Six Feet Under".

It took me awhile, but after alternating four blankets and a wet washcloth on my forehead a couple of times, I was able to think of all the lead characters' names:

Nate Fisher
David Fisher
Claire Fisher
Ruth Fisher
Nathanial Fisher
Brenda Chenowith
Billy Chenowith
Fredrico

That was all I came up with. I exerted a lot of energy trying to remember Lili Taylor's character's name, but I gave up and eventually fell asleep. I thought it was maybe Lisa and I guess I was right.

"Six Feet Under" came to mind because I thought I was going to die like Nate last night. I was like, "Ok, as soon as you start talking funny, you're going to collapse and die." Then I thought about how incredibly hot Peter Krause is. Then I thought about how his character had a weird brain condition and died at 40. Then I thought about how I want a dude that looks like Peter Krause. Then I thought about how whiny his character was.

Oh shit, sorry, just gave away the ending of the show. Eh, I'm not going to erase it.

I threw out a couple of pleas into the universe that I wouldn't die and it looks like I made it another day to stare at a picture of Peter Krause without his shirt on.

Fuck..I did forget about Keith. Thanks, Doug. Keith was one of the names I thought of last night. I just forgot this morning.

Wild Sex (In the Working Class)

Right now I'm going through a Danny Elfman phase.

I went through a Danny Elfman "The composer" phase in high school, but now I'm going through a Danny Elfman "The hot front man with eye makeup and high waisted pants with white tank top and suspenders" phase right now.

So I guess you can say I appreciate the full Danny Elfman spectrum now.

Check out the video of "Little Girls" down below. Pedophilia and midgets...what more can you ask for?

I miss (Los Angeles) Pt. 2

Tonight while I Swiftered the hard concrete floor of my place of work, the sort of floor that keeps me awake at night with knee aches, a song came on that instantly put me in my car, driving through Downtown Los Angeles at night, feeling utterly and completely at peace.

Watching dust particles collecting on the end of the stick gives you a lot of time to think, and I began to visualize why I miss L.A. so much. Los Angeles is like my dirty, adventurous whore that likes to have sex in public areas . Austin is my safe husband that likes to sit at home and watch movies. Both have their good and bad points.

When I think of L.A., I get excited. The city leaves me in a perpetual state of blue balls. I can't get her out of my mind and I finding myself wanting to go back for more. Austin is comfortable. It's nice and it's safe...and I don't mean that in the lackluster sense. Austin is where I can be normal. Lead a normal life, meet someone and settle down, have a creative career, and name my children Scout and Juniper. Austin is the true dream town. Where a realistic and fulfilling dream can come true. But man, there is Los Angeles over there, taunting me with all her sparkles and glitter and the ability to jump head first into it all. She doesn't promise me anything. Not a single thing. But right now, I can just imagine breathing in that warm, electric air and I'm hooked.

Oh, to be twenty-five and in the middle of the road. Tonight, I will say it's inspiring.

Sorry I Was Only Interested in Hooking Up With You, But Can I Still Take Advantage of Your Discount at Work?

Sigh...

I'm learning to understand and respect other people's downfalls.

I've been working full steam ahead on my novel so I haven't had much time to write on my blog. This post is just going to be about random stuff.

-In light of the young man that was trampled and killed at Wal-Mart on Black Friday, I highly recommend that everyone see WHAT WOULD JESUS BUY? This movie is about the activist group Reverend Billy and the Church of Stop Shopping. Reverend Billy has preached anti-consumerism for years. He and his congregation sing in public areas about shopping locally and boycotting conglomerates like Wal-Mart and Starbucks. America has gotten out of control and our current economic state is the outcome to prove it. What the fuck happened to us? What happened to interacting with your friends and family instead of playing video games and hanging out at the mall? How the hell can someone get trampled to death all because a TV was on sale? Spend this holiday making a gift for your loved ones, believe me, people appreciate that more than freakin' candle.

-Last week, I passed a ghost bike at 6th and Highland. A ghost bike is a bicycle painted white and left in memorial of the cyclist who was killed at the location. In this bike friendly town, I hear of way too many accidents involving bicyclists. Please don't kill my friends (or me when I finally move closer to town and get a rad cherry red bike).