Broke Hipster Budgeting Tips

Last night, I came across a helpful article titled, "How to Save Money the Hipster Way" on WalletPop. The author, Steven Kent, was pretty spot on with his list: "Thou shall not pay more than $20 for a show" or "Thou shall not pay more than $2 for beer" seems to ring true with every hipster.

However, I noticed a few items missing.

Here is my list on how to save money the hipster way.

How do you save?

1.) Shop at Thrift Stores- Well, duh. When I was 16 and stupid, shopping at the Salvation Army was not even a thought in my head. I wore vintage clothing, but only from the treasure troves of my mother and grandmother's closets. Now, ten years later, I ONLY shop at thrift stores. What did I know? Nothing. My favorite thrift store in Austin is Thrift Town. It's a southwestern chain with great specials every month. The items below I got during their 50% off sale. $2.99 for the shoes, $3.99 for the dress.

2.) Repurpose Old Clothing/Buy Accessories- When you get the urge to buy a new outfit, stop. Chances are you have great clothing that you're just bored of. If that's the case, try and be creative. Some of my favorite flowy skirts, I now wear as tops (yes, it's true...and it usually makes my boobs look bigger). If you can sew, then you're golden. When I get sick of my little black dress, I buy some funky pantyhose. Check out American Apparel's fun pantyhose selection.

3.) Sell your clothing to Buffalo Exchange- If you live in a big city, chances are you have a Buffalo Exchange (or something like it). That chain is spreading like a fungus. If you're in a pinch, selling old clothing is a fast way for some dough. Remember, make sure the clothing is clean and season appropriate before you take it in.

4.) Free movie screenings- In Austin, the beloved Alamo Drafthouse hosts free kid-friendly screenings the last Saturday of each month, or Monday-Thursday during the summer. They also host $1 Terror Tuesdays and Weird Wednesdays. Whole Foods HQ in Austin often screens contemporary films on their rooftop. I have no idea if your town does these sort of things. Check out your local newspaper/alt weekly paper for details. This is just another little insertion on why Austin is substantially cooler than everywhere else.

5.) DIY furniture- Furniture can be expensive. Even Ikea can be a fortune when you're broke. That's why you should DIY your furniture. Check out Craigslist for cheap deals. Also, check the free section. Lots of times people give away big pieces they don't want to lug around. Another option is Freecycle. Freecycle is a city forum where people leave messages about free stuff they are giving away. For creative ideas, check out Ikeafans or Ikeahacker for ideas.

6.) Cheap Travel- Wanderlust is part of the deal when you're a hipster, but it can be difficult when you're stealing toilet paper from work just to wipe your butt at home. Budget Travel is a great way to find inexpensive trips all over the world. Last Minute offers cheap vacays for that week. Chances are you live near someplace pretty f'ing cool though. Round up a bunch of friends and head out for the weekend. Brown bag it, hostel it, street walk it (in more ways than one). Do what you gotta do. You'll have fun regardless.

7.) Unload car- If you can, unload your car and move to a city with excellent mass transportation or bike-friendly roads. Seriously. Why not? I did and I'm slowly working towards that naive dream.

8.) Defer college loan- Defer that shit! College loan lenders are the easiest to work with, but the devil when you fall behind. Don't be afraid to call your lender and ask for a deferment or talk about ways you can lower your monthly payment. There are ways that don't involve sexual favors, trust me.

9.) Sell on Etsy/Ebay- If you are creative or have a good eye, start selling on Etsy or Ebay. See this bag here? SEE IT? It's Kitty Hipster Bag and I bought it for $1.25 at a thrift store and sold it for $15 on Etsy.

10.) Assistance- Do like what Wal-mart told their employees to do- go on public assistance. In Texas, for a single person, you must make $903 a month. At least this way you won't be eating Taco Bell and gasin' up the joint every day. Or to find more information on subsidized rentals and homeowner assistance and advice go to your state HUD website.

*Note- Don't mooch off of unemployment longer than you have to. I know times are tough, but if you get offered a job, f'ing take it, will you? Let's put it this way, thousands of people in California found themselves jobless with unemployment funds unavailable to them for up to 6 months because of people like my lazy ass musician friends who were perfectly cable of finding a job.

Who Has the Best Abs for a Dead Dude?

While I work on a post about being a poor hipster...

Who Has the Best Abs for a Dead Guy?

What is your pick?

"I may or may not be wearing underwear right now. You decide."

             "Do you think these pants conceal my hips? I feel fat today."

                 "Come any closer and I'll slice you with my abs."

         I never knew Paul Newman was Jewish. My grandma would approve!

                           Fail.

                         "Cary, do you think this makes us look gay?"

                                                What a bush!

                  "Hello, Hunter? Guess what I'm wearing right now...."

Oodles and Pickles

It's not hard for me to ramble on just about anything.

I can tell you in great detail how I improperly wore tampons by shoving them in my cootch only halfway or used to drink myself to sleep by 9PM on Friday nights (not before documenting it on camera). I can wax poetic about all the dudes whose asses I've seen and explain how I used to go after men who most likely ate paint chips as a child.

Those things I don't mind talking about.

However, there is one topic that I rarely discuss. It's a subject so dear to me, I have difficulty mustering the words to describe how I feel. Even now, I can't find the words to convey how I can't find the words about how I feel towards my family. The emotions are just so big that any attempt at description will involve endless adjectives and run on sentences.

Since coming to the conclusion that I will not be making it home this summer for the first time in six years, I've been dwelling on the fact that the people I love are getting old. I'm getting old. Time is not slowing down, and as my parents round out their 50's and I travel further away from my childhood, I'm finding it progressively difficult to come to terms with the...yeah, this is a bitch to write! Never mind.

Anyways, I've felt the urge to talk about them, to try an gain some objectivity from the roles they play as my mother, father, and grandmother.

Brenda Yale, my mother, the runner up to Prom Queen, the lady with no middle name, was born in Cortland, NY. A town with less than twenty thousand people smack dead in the middle of the state (we have a pole somewhere legitimizing this). She still lives in the same 800 square foot home that she grew up in; the house she inherited at 24 year-old after her father dropped dead of a stroke. From 18 to 48 years of age, she worked at her mother's clothing store on Main Street. She was beautiful and lean and perfect. Everyone thought she was a snob, never realizing how much confidence she lacked in herself. She thought she made all the right decisions for a young woman born in 1950- go to a two year school, work at the family business, stay in your home town, own a home, marry a handsome man, and have a child. Of course you can try to do it right. The husband left, the business closed, the child grew up, and having a two year degree at 58 years old in a small town doesn't offer much. She's an artist who has never shown her work, she's a lover who hasn't been loved in over twenty years , she's a world traveler who has never left her home continent. She is a woman who has reserved every ounce of her heart to me and for that, I am grateful.

Karl Modery, my father, the free spirit, the man of 1,000 lives, was born in Preble, NY, a one-cow-town near Cortland. Quoted as saying that his father was worse that George McFly before Marty changed the course of history, he acted out as a child in search of attention and affection from his parents. Out of fear of tarnishing his golden image with me (too late, Pop), he will not divulge what happened between the years 1970-1975 or B.B. (before Brenda) I know that he was a doorman at Radio City Music Hall, dropped out of Berklee College of Music, hung out with Frank Zappa twice, and wore platform shoes though he was 6'3". A trait I inherited from my father, a personality quirk that my mother blatantly points out the negative ramifications of, is the fear of becoming bored, of life becoming stagnant. Because of this, my father has had every job under the moon, has had over 35 cars, has had over 15 pet dogs, been married twice, and has lived in six different states. His most consistent careers have been that of a musician, model, and actor. His child-like wonderment of the world is magnificent and detrimental at the same time.

Nan Yale McCormick, my grandmother, was born in...wait, I'm not sure where the hell she was born. I believe she was born in Endicott, NY. A comparable emotional void of a city to Scranton, PA. As a teenager she lived with her Orthodox Jewish grandmother in South Bend, Indiana and quickly decided she hated being a Jew. She moved back to central New York where she landed a job as a saleswoman/merchandiser/buyer for a thriving woman's apparel store called Leonards'. Being the sassy lady she is, she walked into the bank, took out a loan, and proposed she buy the business from the crotchety one legged owner. He obliged. From that day on, my grandmother ran one of the most successful independent women's apparel stores in central NY. She and her daughter would make buying trips to the city and hold fashion shows in our hometown. Though my grandmother was one tough cookie, she was a complete idiot when it came to men. Her first husband (my grandfather) was 13 years her senior and enjoyed watching "The Smothers Brothers" more than conversing with her. After she dumped his ass (during a time when women didn't dump asses), she married a CIA agent/colonel with a bad rug and an even worse wandering eye. She dumped his ass as well, but politely (and moronically) decided not to ask for anything in the divorce. Currently she has been seeing Lionel, a huge nudge, whom she began dating after falling and breaking her arm in the building he owned and suing him. She is 82 years-old and goes to the gym five days a week. The classiest and most dignified woman I know, I often fear that she has never fully experienced passion.

That's it.

That is my entire family.

The axis of my world.

A Brutally Embarrassing Coming-of-Age Story

My mother wanted to keep me in an arrested state of development. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's that most parents don't want to see their little babies grow up. Or maybe they don't want us to become familiar with our burgeoning sexuality and have us shame the family by getting knocked up at 15. Maybe they're just prude. Or asexual. Which might both be the case with my mother (Yo Mom, if you're reading this, STOP RIGHT NOW!)

At 13 when most girls had freshly shaved appendages and a new found interest in what Victoria's Secret had to offer, I was still tomboyin' it with furry legs and a sports bra that may or may not have stunted my breast growth. Mom told me there was no reason to grow up so quickly and like so many stupid stupid children, I believed what my mother told me.

Take for example her neglecting to introduce me to tampons.

For years, when I got my period, I'd walk around with a bulky pad between my legs. The official adult diaper (no, well, I guess that would be Depends, wouldn't it?). I even wore those puppies in the pool! Those guys soaked up water like a sponge. I'd rise out of the pool with a water-laden bulge in my neon blue dolphin-covered one piece suit.

I'm pretty sure I looked like I had a penis.

I was oblivious at the time but now I can only imagine kids' faces as I climbed out of the pool magically sprouting a dick. I'm surprised rumors didn't spread around school.

"Did you see Lauren at the pool the other day? I think she may have a bigger penis than you, Steve."

The awkwardness of the lead weight cradled in the crotch of my bathing suit forced me to run like a monkey across the pool deck as I scrambled to shield myself in a towel.

Fast-forward to two years later. I'm working at my first job in an Italian restaurant. My period surprise ambushes and I must have forgotten to put those hateful little pads in my purse that evening. They're not the easiest thing to carry around in your purse, you know? Do you know how embarrassing it is at 15 years old to have a gigantic maxi pad plop onto your feet when you reach for your wallet? DO YOU???

I was stranded! I knew normal people didn't use maxi pads so I was terrified to ask around.

I scavenged the restaurant for a co-worker whom I knew would understand my situation.
There weren't any. I worked with a bunch of sassy young women who read Seventeen- the official magazine of tampons.
I was screwed. I was at that point where I was going to have to get creative with whatever was lying around the restaurant. Luckily, Rachel walked in as I was about to stick wax paper in my underwear.

Rachel was cool. Her and I got each other. She didn't give me a perpetual "duh" look while smacking her gum like the others.

"Oh my God, Rachel! I just got my period. Do you have anything? You know like a tampon or maybe a maxi pad."

"Only a tampon bigger than my boyfriend's penis." (Amendment- Rachel says that this is not exactly how the exchange went down, but I'm going to leave it. This is how I remember it. I'm sorry, Rachel.)

"Oh."

Exactly what I wanted to hear.

My mind flashed to later in the evening, a customer commenting on the "spaghetti sauce" on the crotch of my pants and realized I had no choice. It was either the super jumbo tampon or a taking the chance on a bunch of wadded up toilet paper in my underwear for the rest of the evening (and we all know how that will end).

I took the crude object from her hand and locked myself in the bathroom.

I carefully peeled back the paper like a popsicle stick.

What the hell is this!?

Ok, there is an outer container, then something inside it. Do I shove the whole thing in my crotch, or just the smaller piece inside? But it's made of cardboard!!! I don't think that I should put that in my body. I guess it's just the fiber glass feeling piece I have to put in there.

I pulled the tampon from the cardboard and put it in between my legs like a plug.

Surely this thing can't go ALL the way inside!

So, I work for the rest of the evening with a tampon bigger than someone's boyfriend's dick sticking half-way out of my vagina. It hurt like a son of a bitch. I was walking around like someone stuck a stick up my ass.

Or vagina.

I had the look of dog shitting as people gave me their orders. The pain was unbearable, but it was mine and mine alone. I couldn't tell anyone my predicament.

As I walked in to the house later that evening to pull the shrapnel from my battered cootch, my mother stopped me in my tracks.

"Are you ok? What's wrong?"

"Ma, I had to use a tampon tonight and I don't think I did it right."

"What did you do?"

"Well, I only stuck it in only half-way. It hurts!"

She could barely contain her laughter.

How.

Dare.

She!?!?!?

I was in this awful predicament because of her!

This was all her fault!!!

I stormed off into the bathroom where I pried the evil, spiteful object from my body all the while having to listen to my mother call all her friends, shrieking, "You'll never guess what my daughter just did!" I dug out the trusty ol' chastity belt of a maxi pad and slapped it into my underwear.

Ooohhhh, that feels so much better.

That night, as I forced myself to lie on my side so I wouldn't period all over my bed, I thought about the tampon.

If I used it right, my life would be so much easier. I wouldn't have to worry about rolling over in my sleep. Better yet, I could swim without worrying about the pad floating up to the surface of the pool!

The next day, I took my tip money from the night before and bought myself "tampon lites" at the supermarket. Now knowing that I had to push the tampon ALL THE WAY UP, I pushed it as far is it could go.

Wow, it doesn't hurt!
It disappears!

I felt liberated! I could walk and swim and sleep freely now! No more worrying about magic penises and "spaghetti sauce" on my pants. I WAS FREEEE!

I walked into the house strong and confident. This was the beginning of a new Lauren. Little did I know I had a long way to go.

It would take me another three years to learn about trimming the little caterpillars above my eyes and the beast that once partied with my maxi pads down below.

Looking back, I can't be angry at my mother for not explaining these things to me. Did I endure ridicule and embarrassment because of it? Sometimes. Did it make me want to rip out my ovaries and bury them in the dirt? Maybe. But I did learn something priceless from it. A very valuable lesson that I will carry down to my children. Forget drugs and sex, talk to your daughters about the positive attributes of tampons. It will save them a lot of pain and heartache (and therapy).

Love you, Mom!

The Kids in the Hall vs. The State

The 90's was not my favorite decade for personal reasons (nose seemingly disproportionate to the rest of my face, catepillar eyebrows, discovering my sexuality through Elton John circa 1972), HOWEVER, it was my favorite decade for sketch comedy.

Only two troupes stand out in my mind as rulers of 90's sketch- CBC's The Kids in the Hall and MTV's The State.

If you don't know who either are, you're a fucking loser.

There, I said it.

Somebody had to.

My roommate brought home the newly released The State DVD boxset tonight and I got myself reaquinted with the show. I watched The State when it was still on MTV, way before I ever discovered what The Kids in the Hall was.

I must have thought I was a pretty fucking awesome twelve year-old.

When I saw The Kids in the Hall "Brain Candy" a few years later, I was at first appalled, then turned on. Wild intrigue manifested into manical obsession and I lost a great deal of friends during this time due to my forcing them to reenact "Buddy Cole" skits every time they came over.

"Hey, Lauren, wanna go swim in the pool?"

"NO! Here, put this smoking jacket on and purse your lips. Now emphasize your S's! DO IT!"

Every day my VCR was programmed to record KitH reruns airing on Comedy Central from 2PM-3PM EST. I'd race off the school bus just in time to heat up a ham and cheese hot pocket, catch the last fifteen minutes of the second episode, then rewind and sit for one hour in pure bliss. I'm obviously a bigger fan of The Kids in the Hall, but as I watched the second season of The State tonight I attempted objectivity and wondered which really was the better troupe? The State- the eleven person NYU crew, representing the 90's MTV generation with sardonism and tongue-in-cheek wit? Or The Kids in the Hall- the five, loveable, slighty perverted nerds from Canada, representing the generation of....slightly perverted Canadian nerds?

Here is my scorecard:

1.) It's a Man's World- there were no women in The Kids in the Hall and only one woman in the 11 person State crew.

-The State gets a +1 for only being mildy scared of women.

2.) Toronto vs. NYC- KitH was a Toronto-based troupe full of college dropouts and good ol' Canadian boys through and through. The State was full of recently graduated NYU students. Both cities have their charm but the Brooklyn thing is overdone, even if the The State was there before it was super cool.

-Kids in the Hall gets a +1 because a.) they lived in the nicer and cleaner NYC b.) they lived in f'ing cold ass weather.

3.) Crush Worthy- even when I was a little girl, I had a thing for Thomas Lennon. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's his thin lips or 1940's part. That crush only heightened when Reno 911! came out and he donned the best pair of short shorts my generation has ever seen. He still remains one of the few actors I found myself speechless around when I encountered him on the studio lot we both worked at.

With his baby blue eyes and gapped tooth grin, I quickly fell in love with Dave Foley for his perfect mix of masculine and feminie qualities (who are we kidding...that guy is a chick!) However, time has not been good to Mr. Foley, and he has recently become the poster child for Men Who Look Like Old Lesbians.

-The State gets a +1 for aging more gracefully.

4.) The Gay Truth- The Kids in the Hall had one openly gay member, Scott Thompson, and boy, was he the most amazingly gay man ever. Remember Buddy Cole? If anyone was gay in The State, we did not know about it..

-Kids in the Hall gets a +1 for having an openly gay member and not being afraid to talk about it.

*Editors note- I've been corrected. I forgot about The State's Kevin Allison and their famous, "The Jew, The Italian, and the Redhead Gay" skit. Im still giving this category to KitH though

5.) Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder- There is no competition here. Nobody looked as good in dresses as the Kids in the Hall. NOBODY!

They made my burgeoning sexuality all the more confusing.

-Kids in the Hall +1 for being some hot mo-fo's.

6.) Success!- All the members or KitH and The State have gone onto other things- comedic and serious acting, directing, writing, more sketch comedy, music, etc. Though The Kids have had some successful moments since KitH ended- Foley on Newsradio, McCulloch's "directing" career, and McKinney's brief stint on SNL- the members of The State have had a far more interesting journey.

Where to begin? Remember Viva Variety? Reno 911!? "Wet Hot American Summer"? Lennon and Garant have gone onto a successful ("successful" being relative) writing career as well- "Night at the Museum", "The Pacifier", "Let's Go to Prison", and "Herbie: Fully Reloaded".

-The State gets a +1 for having a larger, more consistenly cooler body of work.

7.) Unforgettable Characters- how many funny, unforgettable reoccuring character can you remember from The Kids in the Hall? Headcrusher, Cabbage Head, The Chicken Lady, Gavin, Simon and Hecubus, Buddy Cole, Danny Husk, Jocelyn and Maudre, Cathy and Kathie...

Now how many can you remember from The State?

Barry & Levon and Doug.
-Kids in the Hall gets a +1 for having an imagination.

AND THE WINNER IS????
Kids in the Hall=4

The State=3

(Of course The Kids in the Hall would win....I will always be a KitH girl)

How To Be A 1980's Awesome Man

Bryan Ferry, Danny Elfman, Robert Palmer, Peter Gabriel, David Byrne.

What do these men all have in common?

I would each have their child and it would be the most beautiful and talented family that was ever created!!!

We'd name our children names like "Radio" and "Soliloquy" and all live on our own island somewhere in the Caribbean. Byrne and Ferry will co-write a song about me titled, "The Girl Standing On the Window Ledge" and duet battle onstage to see who has the best awkward vibrato. At some point it's decided that I will manage all five of them and try to name the group "The Fer Elf Pal Gab Byr Five". Egos flair up over who has the sexiest swagger and Elfman takes a defiant dump during the middle of a performance to show who is boss. The band breaks up three shows in, and Gabriel takes all the children to an African music camp. I go into a deep depression that I numb with the help of horse tranquilizers. Ferry and Palmer run off with underaged English models and Byrne turns our Caribbean compound into a self-sustaining cyclist Eutopia and kicks me off the island. I swim back to the States, sleep in a homeless shelter, and tell anyone who will listen the story of my five rock star ex-husbands.

When I wasn't daydreaming about our not-so-perfect little family, I was thinking of ways I could dress/be like these men. My parents had every reason to question my sexual identity when I preferred to dress in Byrne's "big suit" vs. girly leggings and graphic shirts that screamed, "Cupcake!" on them.

If you spent the better part of your childhood trying to be a 1980's Awesome Man, then look no further. Here are guidelines below:

1.) Asperger's- It's important that you act highly awkward in social situations. Ways to achieve this? a.) Stare at someone for long periods of time with no facial expression whatsoever b.) Exit a conversation by simply disappearing c.) Answer a question being asked to you ten minutes later, long after the conversation has ended d.) Talk about metaphysics for abnormal lengths of time.

2.) Crooner-esque- Make sure to wear a tuxedo at all times. Morning, day, night. You want to keep that appearance every time you wake up next to a new model. She opens her eyes and rolls over to see you sitting up in your satin tails, bow tie unraveled, cig in hand, and mouthing "Love is the Drug" softly in her ear.

3.) Tank Tops- Tank tops go with anything. They go with slacks. They go with suspenders. They go with demonic theatrical sounding vocals. Don't be afraid to embrace the tank. They accentuate body hair and sweat. This is a good thing.

4.) Hot Expressionless Women- Surround yourself with them, because no matter how crooked your teeth may be, these women will make you look important. Dressing them in tight black dresses without bras and glossy red lipstick is even better. Sure, you might come across as a chauvinistic prick, but that's part of the game, baby.

5.) Africa- It was a staple in the 80's that if you were a man and you were white, you had to incorporate African beats into your music. It made anything you create sound ten times better.

Top Ten Ways We Know We're Turning Into Our Parents

I am a product of the Baby Boomers born in the Millennium Generation. I often fancy myself as a child still. Full of naivety and wonder.
However, lately, signs are pointing to the opposite.

While discussing the importance of comfortable shoes with my friend yesterday, I looked up at a mirror and saw my mother looking back at me. The same hand gestures, the same facial expressions, the same use of the phrase, "Out. Of. This. World!"- the Mom equivalent of "OMG!", when describing an item that I like (an item such as brand new SAS loafers).

My mother is a beautiful and strong woman, I'd be so lucky to turn into her, but having overly-animated conversations with her about "The Housewives of Orange County" and taking up her suggestion of including a bowl of Fiber One in my daily diet frightens me a little. What happened to the defiant child that locked herself in her room when a Michael McDonald record came on in the house? Or the girl that used to make fun of her father when he fell asleep in the living room chair at 9:30PM? She's been replaced by a woman who quietly sings the Time Life "Romancing the 70's" commercial to herself as she slowly nods off Friday nights on her couch.

Though there is no denying that the generation transformation is taking place now, luckily I can still hold onto the fact that I don't understand parents fascination with John Mayer, taking of countless Facebook quizzes, or tireless devotion to tucking in their shirts.

Top Ten Ways We Know We're Turning into Our Parents:

1.) We've actually begun including tissue boxes on our grocery lists in substitute of using toilet paper for runny noses.

2.) One morning we wake to understanding the brilliant practicality of fanny packs. We even question why we made fun of them in the first place, telling our friends, "They're actually kind of cool looking."

3.) Internal conflicts regarding going out and getting drinks with friends or staying home and watching "Dancing With The Stars" becomes a weekly issue and one that often accumulates in the need for a Xanax.

4.) When Hall & Oates comes on in the department store, we no longer pout and quickly exit the store. Instead we get really excited and start crooning "Sara Smile" to the closest person who will listen.

5.) We resort back to 35mm and pillage our parents closets for their abandoned Minoltas.

6.) When treading common area between college students and locals, we find our blood pressure rising when a large group of boisterous students are within ten feet of us. Everything they say sounds stupid and we're 100% sure that we did not sound like them when in college.

7.) We begin holding a spot for "dry cleaning" on our budgets.

8.) We actually create budgets.

9.) Stopping by the mattress store while hungover just to lie on a Tempur-Pedic and chant to ourselves, "One day, baby. One day we will be together", turns into spending our entire savings on the purchase of one.

10.) We may or may not purchase Consumer Reports and scan for the words "most" and "reliable" while searching for a new car.

Scenes from SXSW

God, I'm glad this fucking festival is over.

SXSW Music- Suzanna Choffel

I've never been much for female vocalists or singer-songwriters, but Austin, TX musician Suzanna Choffel has changed all that for me.

A little bit of jazz, a little bit of folk, and a little bit of rock, Suzanna's music is unlike any other. Her voice is both sad and optimistic. Listening to her puts me in a reflective mood. A sort of Sunday feeling.

Her new song, "Archer", produced by my co-worker, Danny Reisch, is possibly my favorite songs right now. Check it out at the top of her Myspace page.

Down below is her performance of "Hey Mister" on ME TV.

SXSW Music- Delorean

Checked out this rad band, Delorean, last night. They're from Spain and freakin' awesome!
Kind of like a more synth poppy M83.
Shoegazing mixed with some thumping beats.
They also have a kick ass name.
Check out their song, "Deli", below.
DO IT!


SXSW schedule:

mar 18 2010 12:00p	SXSW-INSOUND PARTY@CLUB DEVILLE	austin, texas
mar 18 2010 6:30p	SXSW- TRUE PANTHER PARTY@MS. BEAS	austin, texas
mar 19 2010 11:00p	SXSW - WINDISH SHOWCASE@EMOS	austin, texas

Aspiring Writers- Seed.com

Hey Everyone!
Just got back from a AOL/Seed luncheon at SXSW.

Seed.com is a wonderful new program launched through AOL that lists available paid online work for freelance writers and photographers. I was acquainted to Seed through Spinner.com who was utilizing the platform for their SXSW contributor coverage.

This is a terrific and legit program for aspiring writers and photographers and is growing every day! Stop by and take a look!

Here is an example of work I did through Seed/Spinner. I interviewed a wonderful band out of San Francisco called Minipop. They will be playing SXSW at Aces Lounge on Saturday at 10PM. If you like Mazzy Star or dreamy pop/shoegazing, then you'll dig this band.