i'm a big kid now

You know it's Friday when you wake up and realize you dreamt that Troy Aikman had been following you from party to party because he was in love with you. I mean, really, can you blame him? 

Strangely, my Cowboys-lover dream was not the biggest thing that happened this week. Nor was the last day of class, signaling my three-week release from prison back into the real world! Nor was the amazing Hold Steady concert, at which Lundy and I wriggled our way to the second row and sweated it up to some rockin' rock. Amongst all that stuff, I signed a 1,273 page contract signing away my firstborn child in exchange for a sweet-ass-all-mine-put-your-big-girl-pants-on house! 

I've been on a serious house hunt since June when the armpit shithole rental house fell through. Sally referred me to Don, the patron saint of good decision making, and after visiting at least 50 houses, we both finally agreed that my new little gal was the best choice! I am so thankful to have had a knowledgeable, wise, altruistic, and patient helper like Don and I was so excited after signing the contract that I distributed not one but two hugs in appreciation! 

My whole goal during this process was, first and foremost, to find a home that I would love, feel stable in, and feel "me" in. Secondary goals included avoiding a money pit, choosing something that would rent easily once I move on, and finally picking something that would re-sell easily someday down the road when the market is up and running again. After much see-sawing between those objectives, I realized that buying an old house (hence, one I felt most comfortable in) was diametrically opposed to all sensibility. Given my general stress level of life right now and my track record of luck lately, the charm and character of an old house would probably soon give way to some unwelcome repairs that would leave me just shy of a strait-jacket. Since I'm looking for more stability, not less, I realized I needed to save my "ideal" house for later. 

Just as I was about to give up (why is this always when it happens?), my little lady fell right into my lap, before she even hit the official market. By the end of the month, I'll be a proud new member of the Mueller development going up on the site of the old airport. For those who think traditional developments are the Anti-Christ, I hear you, and I hope you're pleasantly surprised by the new urban concepts at play in this green community. It took me a while to warm up to the idea of paying a homeowner's association fee, but the bike trails + greenways, town center, light rail, and easily maintained house eventually swayed me. This whole hunt was a great test of my patience (or lack thereof), and I'm so glad I held off on the many properties that I considered. I think the reality of being a homeowner will kick in once I start hiring movers, painting, switching utilities, forwarding mail, and all of the other prosaic tasks that come with moving....and I can't wait.

what's your sign?

The only horoscope I've read in the past four years was out of The Onion, and it told me the good news was, I was going to have the best day of my life tomorrow! The bad news was, I'd be hit by a car the next day. I hadn't even so much thought about my sign until a "family dinner" the other night when Jenilee proclaimed that obviously she's moody, I mean, she IS a Cancer, which spiraled into a detailed dissection of all of our personalities and sent me running for the Internet to figure out who I really was.

Thanks to astrology.com, I found out I am a huge pansy. I'm sensitive and dreamy and emotional and I sound seriously annoying. I hate illiteracy, and I'm probably short with pouty lips. (I joined forces with Wikipedia too, okay?) Which is where I also found out that Pisces have the most beautiful eyes in the Zodiac. Boo-yah! Where's the part about my voluptuous breasts?

More reputable sites suggest that I'm a good confidant, a solid caretaker, and I want to love and be loved. Sometimes I feel isolated and disconnected. Now we're onto something. I have a strong intuition and use that to solve problems, although I hate making big decisions. Tough times will be great sources of wisdom for me. Damn well better be. 26 is going to be a year of important change. Gah, not more than 25 please! There's a good chance I'll be a writer, and I'm usually very loyal. I can't cook for shit. (I couldn't find that exact phrase but it had to be in there somewhere).

So aside from the whole pouty-lipped dreamer thing, I feel like a lot of this stuff was pretty dead on, which kind of blew my mind. Does anyone else buy into this whole zodiac thing, or am I taking a turn down Crazy Road?

why didn't I think of that?

Brian and I have tried to describe Improv Everywhere to some of you, so I thought I'd just put a video up so you could see for yourself. The group assembles hundreds of New Yorkers for a mission, but only tells them what to wear or bring. No one knows what they'll be doing until they get there. 

Ingenious. 

Here is their latest, The Human Mirror.

A spinoff website started called Urban Prankster, and they did a pretty good one on the Verizon Wireless Network. 

TGIF!

things you should do...

...because I said so.

1) Teach me how to use the Mac corners function thingie.

2) Go see the Dark Knight. I know it's unusual for the girl who doesn't go to movies to post about movies, but I saw one, and you should too! Heath Ledger was, in professional movie critic terms, freaking awesome. I hate getting caught up in the hype only to discover that no, that person actually was not all that impressive, so please believe me when I say that you will not be disappointed in Ledger's rendition of the Joker. He's the first villain since Hannibal Lecter that I was totally in awe of, terrified of, and kind of wanted to be his friend all at once. Plus, there are a lot of schizophrenic currents running through the movie and hey, analyzing that is an English major's dream.

3) Visit Pandora.com. I abandoned Pandora last year because my work computer didn't have a sound card. (So anyone who sent me a video in the last 10 months, I probably haven't watched it in its full glory...although I did improve my lip-reading skills.) But now, the iMac actually has sound {gasp!} so I re-activated my Pandora account and it is already changing my life. God bless this crazy stalker website that is expanding my musical horizons while creating the perfect playlist for little 'ol me. If you want to be a super stalker too, I think you can listen along with me...

i'll take the red pill

Hello Laura. This is your iMac. I will be changing your life. 

It's not talking to me yet, but I swear it wouldn't shock me in the least if this thing started reading my mind. Or making me waffles. My bosses just bought this bad boy yesterday and I'm already starting to feel a little holier-than-thou about my computing abilities. But how could I not? What Google is to the internet, Apple is to your computer system. What Pure Romance is to hoards of lonely ladies, Apple is to raw photos. What tuna is to Powder, Apple is to your music library. If you're on the PC train, buckle your seatbelt.

Yes, it's just my work computer, but anyone who knows anything about my job knows that work=personal (minus the porn downloads). Because my bosses are angels brought down from heaven above, they even bought me a 24" screen. Read: way more man than I can handle. I mean, I feel like I'm sitting in my own personal media room. The opening welcome sequence felt like an IMAX show, complete with a little dizziness. Since then, everything about this operating system has been blowing my mind. I'm feeling a little deja vu from when I bought my Razr after 9 years of standard Nokias and I turned it on in the store and the first thing I said was, "Oh my God, it's in color!" Except I'm experiencing that with every.single.click.

I totally don't need this computer. I'm not an artist, or a musician, or a very important businessperson with 1.5 million contacts that need to sync with my iPhone and MacBook. But shit, I'll take it. I feel like I just stepped into the matrix and realized that my previous life was all just a farce. Laura, welcome to your iLife. 

 

  

memphrica

It's almost 2 a.m., we're almost packed, and it's almost time to get up and head to Memphis. I am dying to see my best friends, my Big Black Boy, and bbq shops around every corner! It's crazy to think about how different life in Austin is...sometimes I wonder how I even survive without people like this.

starstruck

Happy 4th of July, all you patriotic slackers who are still sleeping while I slave away at my desk. Wait, you're at work? you might ask. Why yes, yes I am. My progressive bosses allotted me a set number of vacation days a year and allowed me to choose when I wanted to take them. Of course, they also assumed I was mature enough to not blow all my vacay days without considering what days all my friends would be sleeping in and barbecueing and maybe I'd want to do that too...they thought wrong, so here I am, and for this, you get a blog.

Life has been crazy with what I'd like to call the Revolving Door of Slinging Poo, so I haven't had quite enough time to devote to this here blog, but I did manage to take a break from paper writing to meet one of my favorite bloggers, Stephanie Klein. She's responsible for Greek Tragedy, which Jackie introduced me to back in 2004 when Steph (that's right) blew up on the radar. I was a religious reader back in the day when she was a real live Carrie Bradshaw, single in NYC, dating around and getting sexual favors in cabs until she found the love of her life. Since then, she's gotten married, moved to Austin (holler!), and had two adorable twins. I have fallen off the bandwagon a little bit lately, but that doesn't mean I didn't lose my shit when I realized she'd be reading from her newest book Moose at a nearby B&N. YES.

I couldn't wait to see her in the flesh...there are pictures of her online and everything, but you can't really get a feel for what someone's like until you meet them in person. What if she was a snob and I hated her and then I hated her blog and had wasted four years of spare time reading it? What if she was cheesy and I hated her for that and then I hated her blog and had wasted four years of spare time reading it? So I'm excited, sitting there among 15-20 other people (seriously? where was everybody?), she walks up and....I fought the urge to cry. I KNOW. I have no idea what's wrong with me. I am all about psychoanalyzing myself and my emotional-ness but I got nowhere with this one.

Anyway, my ridiculous foray of tears is not the point. I pulled it together, loved loved loved her talk and her book, and couldn't wait to have her sign it (plus her first one, which I'd brought). As she's taking questions, I have a million running through my head but am suddenly too embarrassed to ask them in front of other people. Or maybe just in front of her. I thought they were probably stupid and that no one else would care about the answers. Fair enough. So I'm waiting in line, rehearsing what I want to say, and mind you I've been thinking about this for a while. When you meet someone you think is kind of a celebrity, what are you even supposed to say? I feel like it's flattering to comment them, because compliments can't be that annoying. Maybe you should prove what a fan you are by listing the most obscure album/article/book that person produced....and how much you loved it. Or maybe it's important to say what their work has meant to you, because most people intrinsically operate with the hope of making a difference to someone else.

Once I opened my mouth, it was hard to believe I'd thought about any of that stuff. Or that I even contained an entire lineup of chromosomes. I got up to the table and went blank, had no idea what to say, and just kind of was like, "Hi...I really like your blog." Good one. So now I'm officially old enough to know how to read but not advanced enough to understand the components that make up a complex sentence. She asked me a question or two, like, "So have you read Moose yet? Do you have a blog yourself?" and then, I guess my brain got all excited because oh my God, we're having a conversation and I lurched from neutral to overdrive and started blurting my life history and every question I'd ever had since the beginning of time. "My-roommates-and-I-have-been-reading-your-blog-since-2004-and-we-love-it-and-we-think-it's-so-fun-and-I-lived-in-Memphis-when-you-moved-to-Austin-then-I-moved-to-Austin-and-I-was-so-excited-because-I-thought-maybe-possibly-at-some-point-you'd-have-a-book-signing-and-then-I'd-actually-get-to-come-and-here-you-are!-So-what-are-you-working-on-next?-Do-your-prefer-blog-writing-to-book-writing-or-do-you-now-like-script-writing-better?-What-channel-is-your-tv-show-going-to-be-on?-Do-you-think-you'll-continue-writing-memoirs-or-will-you-maybe-write-some-fiction?"

So obviously, instead of asking intelligent questions in front of the group so everyone could benefit from hearing the answers, the smarter option was to go ahead and revert to second grade and have an explosive verbal blowout in front of her table, while everyone else is tapping their feet in line, secretly hoping I get removed from the store.

I have only met one celebrity before, so it's not like I have a lot of experience with this or anything, but it was Jane Seymour, and I had to interview the woman! So you'd think this little book signing would be no problem. But really? "We think your blog is so fun" ????

Shoot me.