In Memorium: My Reminiscings of a Cherished Friend

At this time last year, I lost one of the best people I have ever had the fortune to know, my friend Carl Berg. I met Carl when I was in college. He was the boyfriend of my friend Kris's sister Michelle. At that time, to me, Michelle was just Kris's sister and her boyfriend was this guy who showed up surprising her on the weekends. Seven of us lived in a big Victorian house on 10th Ave. off OSU campus, and it is one my happiest times in my college career. I got to know Michelle and Carl better and they ceased being people connected to my friend Kris. They became my friends too.

Photographed above: Michelle and Carl

The moment that Michelle and Carl became endeared to me is still fresh in my mind. (Forgive me readers who have heard this story many times.) It was late at night, and Carl and Michelle came home from a night out. They were debating something. I don't I think ever caught what they were debating about. Michelle went to the computer in the front room to e-mail her father Joe, better known in the Andrews household as Papa Schulte. Carl went into the kitchen to cook something. Aaron and I sat in the room in the middle of the kitchen and the front room listening to them. Michelle started to say something to Carl to which he replied, "Zip It." Michelle called back, "I'm not zippin' ," and then continued on. Carl called back, "What ever, tell it to Joe." Michelle said that she would tell it to Joe and then went on only to have Carl tell her to zip it again. Then went around in circles like this for quite awhile while Aaron and I sat in the middle and laughed.

Carl loved surprising Michelle, and he often called Michelle on Friday nights saying that he had to work late and won't be there for hours. Two minutes later there would be a knock at the door, and it would be Carl who had called from outside the house. It wasn't long until all of us looked forward to Carl's coming to stay for the weekends almost as much as Michelle. Everything was just more exciting and funny with Carl around. He had a gift for bringing out the best in everyone around him. Those were the days when we stayed up late playing scrabble and Aaron and Carl would do the "Cactus Twist" for our amusement.

A few years after college, Kris and her husband Kijana built a house, and I had the opportunity to live with them. Michelle and Carl also moved in to Kris and Kijana's "boarding house". I have so many great memories from this period in my life: playing games every weekend,using Homie figurines as game pieces, playing cards, baking cookies, and lots of T.V. watching. There was nothing better than weekend games watching Carl and Michelle get competitive with each other over what ever game we were playing. I feel so lucky to have had this time with Carl. He and I would stay up late and watch David Letterman and The Daily Show. We loved talking about how Letterman made fun of G.W. Bush each night. Then there was Carnivale. OH the legend that was Carnivale. Carl and I loved that show to the chagrin of Kris and Michelle. We lived for Sunday nights to see what was going to happen. Then we analyzed the episode and what each element might have a hidden meaning. We talked for weeks about all of the secrets that would be revealed when the carnival reached Babylon. Of course nothing was revealed and there were only more questions.

Photographed Above: Carl and Kijana

I recall one Christmas night, everyone came over to my mom's house to hang out. Carl came out of the bathroom with a box of tissues. He wanted to know what kind of scam my mother was running. He went on to show the room that the tissues had someone's name written on it, and concluded that my mother was stealing the tissues that her students brought to school. For some reason, my mother is the only teacher I have ever met who has left over tissues at the end of the school year. What else is there to do with them than bring them home? Carl gave my mom a hard time about it, and when I went to Kris's for New Year's Eve, we wrapped up tissue boxes with students' names on them as a joke. The next Christmas night, Carl showed up with a gift for my mom. It was a box of tissues with his name written all over it written to look like a child's hand writing.

Photographed Above: Carl w/ Christmas Pinata Jesus. I brought all the way from North Carolina for Carl to smash. We noticed the strange resemblance.

Carl was one of those people who lived life. I mean really lived life. There are very few people who you can say make everyone they come in contact with smile, but Carl was one of those people. Everyone loved Carl, and Carl was everyone's friend. He has had such a positive effect on my life to the point that he changed how I look at the world. I was freaking out one night because I was having trouble scheduling to take the PRAXIS, a test you have to take to become a certified teacher, and if I didn't get scheduled for it, I wouldn't be able to start grad. school as I planned. All I could think of was all the ways this was going to screw up my life. Everyone else had gone to bed, and I told him my issues and how there was no way I would be able to calm down and get any sleep. He listened to me and then asked me if there was anything I could do about it that night. I told him no. "Then why worry about it when you can't do anything about it now?" he said. "In the morning make the calls you need to make, and worry about it then. It won't do you any good to worry now when you can't fix it." I realized that he was right. I have a tendency to worry about things I have no control over, but that night I went to bed and slept well. Ever since then I have tried to remind myself of what he said to me that night when I fret over things that I cannot control.

Carl reminded me to enjoy life and to not take the world so seriously. On my last day working at Target, a job I hated with every fiber of my being, he convinced me that I should just not go. Being the responsible, guilt ridden person that I am, I said that I couldn't possibly do that. He assured me that indeed I could, and called Target for me. He gave them some cock-n-bull story about how something had happened to me, and I had a concussion. We laughed, and I ate my chinese leftovers while he watch the OSU game on t.v.

I know that I've now missed out on so many grand experiences with Carl gone. We will all laugh and smile less as a result of his absence in our lives. Those who knew and loved Carl have lost so much that there are no words to describe the void. Sometimes when I think about losing Carl, I don't feel anything except a deep sadness, frustration, and anger that someone so full of life and joy could be taken from this world too soon. It makes me want to go up to those people who claim that every thing happens for a reason and that good comes from everything and scream, "What good could possibly come from loosing Carl? Nothing good will ever come from this!" A world without Carl reminds me that life isn't fair, and that horrible things happen arbitrarily. They hang in our memories without reason to attach to them. However, deep down I know that this is not the way to honor Carl's memory. Knowing Carl is to know that what Carl would want is for us to remember him with a smile and a humorous anecdote.

More and more these days, I can think of Carl and smile. Someone will say or do something that triggers a memory of those days on 10th Av. or at Kris and Kijana's, and I'll smile and say, "One time my friend Carl..." Just the other day, Karen and I were talking about something, and a memory of Carl came to me that I hadn't thought of in years. I went on to regale her about the time Carl and I watched the movie Bad Cop, and we noted each time that Harvey Keitel did something that made him a bad or good cop. I should mention that Carl was a film studies major.

I am so proud to be able to say that Carl isn't my friend's sister's boyfriend. Carl isn't my friend's boyfriend. Carl Berg is my friend. I am a better person to have known him, and I miss him everyday.

Photographed Above: Carl with Sophie B.

I Rate Books: Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

Rated in this Edition

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

By: Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith

Pages:317

Copyright:2009

It has been quite a longtime since I have written an installment of I Rate Books, a few years in fact. I suppose that I am writing this edition for lack of anything better to do. Actually, to my chagrin, I haven't been doing much reading this summer. I blame laziness and a social life. I took Pride and Prejudice and Zombies all the way back to Ohio with every intent of reading it. It ended up sitting in the living room for the duration of my stay only to be shoved back into my suitcase usurped by Augusten Burroughs' latest work A Wolf at the Table. I picked the novel back up upon returning to North Carolina as it seemed like a good pool side read. But that's enough back story. On with the review.

I have a theory that author Grahame-Smith wrote Pride and Prejudice and Zombies with the plan of tricking countless, unsuspecting readers into reading a Jane Austen novel. I, like so many other readers, stumbled onto this book in love with the idea of zombies terrorizing Austen's characters, but I got stuck in the trap... the trap of Jane Austen. I took a quarter long course on Austen in college, and vowed upon leaving the class that I would NEVER in my life pick up one of that women's books again. I have always been a "The book is always better," person, that is unless it comes to a Jane Austen novel. When it comes to her, I say watch the movie and save yourself the time, effort, and frustration of wandering through the social laws of the time. I just can't stand the prattle. Readers, I was tricked, and found myself reading Pride and Prejudice again. Oh, that Grahame-Smith is a clever one, pushing culture and classics on all of sorts of people who would never had picked up an Austen novel otherwise. I offer up as proof of this my friend Kathy who on finishing Grahame-Smith's book said to me, "I think that I might read the actual Pride and Prejudice now. Of course I couldn't let that bitch Austen win, and I told her to just watch the Colin Fith mini-series. (-and you thought that I could make it through a post without mentioning a Colin.) On finishing the zombie edition, I can honestly say that she got everything she needed from the zombies.

Pictured above: Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy

Sure it is Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy fighting Zombies, but if you read this novel, I am certain that you could get a passing grade on a multiple choice test over Austen's novel. Grahame-Smith does change a few aspects of the novel to fit the zombie element in, but much of the original text and plot remain the same. I do have to admit that all of the blood, guts, and gore are amusing when put along side English society. I can say that he did make some improvements on the original text regarding misters Collins and Wickham. I wish I could tell you what misfortunes they befall, but that would be cheating. What made reading the novel all worthwhile, are the bookclub discussion questions at the end. They are, of course, written tounge in cheek to the same tune as what you would typically find in lame ass bookclub discussion questions.

The plot of the novel is not exactly what I thought it would be. I had imagined that it would take the well known characters on a new adventure, and not a retelling of the story with zombies, vomiting, and martial arts. Perhaps there is room somewhere for a sequel. SPOILER***I did find it a bit disappointing that the reader never finds out why or when all of England was attacked by zombies. I was also nonplussed by the fact that the zombie are never defeated. They are just there to carry on with the rest of Austen's characters.*** I was also a bit irratated by the the fact that some of Grahame-Smith's changes eliminated conflicts in the plot, and the fact that said conflicts were resovled is never mentioned in the text. I put this down to lazy writing and editing, or perhaps the publishers do not expect their readers to put too much thought into the plot. An example of one such instance is (SPOILER***)after the misfortune that befalls Mr. Collins the Bennets are willed the house at Longbourne. This eliminates the nessecity for the Bennet girls to all find "good husbands", thus it renders Jane's relation with Mr. Bingly a mute point other than the fact that she might acutally love him. To anyone who who knows the novel's story line, she/he knows that this is all that Mrs. Bennet thinks and cares about, and yet she never mentions the fact that she nolonger has to worry about being put out of her home upon her husband's ultimate demise.***

Above: Illustration from Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

In the end, should you read this book? Why not? It's fun, and if your an Austen fan you will just get caught up in the story you already know by heart but with a twist. If your looking for a good zombie read, you'll walk away having read a classic novel... more or less. It makes me wonder if there will ever be a Bridget Jones's Diary and Zombies. One can only hope that some zombies might come along and kill that bastardized franchise.

Postscript

In the spirit of full disclosure, Seth Grahame-Smith's Wikipedia page says that he got the idea for P.P.&Z. from his editor, and is not, as I suspected, an English professor tricking the world into unwittingly reading Jane Austen. But what does Wikipedia know?

Not to be out done... here's a little meat candy for the ladies.

Photographed Above: Colin Meloy lead singer of the Decemberist and "meatiest" of all the Colins

FYI RE: More Blogging
Kathy and I will be reunited with Mr. Meloy and The Decemberists this month. I assure that there will be blogging abound on Miss Kathy-Wathy's and my parts. Until then, happy reading.

A Note To Readers...

Because some of you have missed posts due to exiting Myspace, I have posted what I consider to be my “greatest hits.”  Unfortunately, to make sense of them, you have to read them in order.  To do this, you will need to scroll to the bottom of the page and read the posts backwards.  As it turns out, I think my best insperato strikes when I am with Miss Kathy-Wathy, but I wouldn’t want her to get a big head about it. J  Anyway, I hope that you enjoy catching up if you’ve missed out, and I hope to write something more current as soon as I have something interesting to write about.

 

Liz and Kathy Stand Beside Douchey Things in Salem (Originally Posted June, 18, 2009)

Thursday, June 18, 2009 

Liz and Kathy Stand Beside Douchey Things in Salem Current mood:Douchey  Category: Blogging Liz and Kathy Stand Beside Douchey Things in Salem We are back faithful readers as I, Elizabeth E. Andrews, am visiting Kathryn-Wathryn in Boston.  Chronicled in the following blog entry are the adventures of the past week.  What are the rules?  I’m glad you asked.  I type in lower case, and Kathy-Wathy types in caps. Enjoy the ride.   Covered in this blog: -An Art Project to End All Art Projects -Thanks for the Vocabulary Lesson, Colin -America’s Douchiest City: A History Lesson -Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry -Nathaniel’s House -The Douche, er, I mean, Duck Tour -Divine Intervention Reunites Us with Colin in August If you remember from our previous blog, Kathy and I were ordering moped t-shirts because they were a sign from the great Decemberisty Gods from above or Portland…whatever.  Well we decided to go one better and make hoodies out of our shirts.  Why?  Because that’s the way we roll.  Imaginary Colin caught wind of our plan when he played in Boston last week, and was so impressed with the outcome he volunteered to model our creations.  Thanks, Imaginary Colin.     Side note here- Kathy and I took a trip out to visit her sister Jenny and it was only a short time until my brother showed up.  I am sure you are wondering why my brother would drive all the way to western Mass.  You see when Kathy and I get together our younger siblings cannot help but tag along—if only for the reason of mocking us.  Those of you who are older siblings of people who consider themselves to be members of the “art community” will understand this.  Younger, arty siblings enjoy nothing more than to follow their older siblings around and smugly make comments about everything their older siblings do.  I know, I know. They should get lives, and stop living in the shadows mocking their older, wiser, and ever so clever siblings.  But to get on with it, Kathy and I asked them both if they had read our blog of the previous week.  To this both of them replied that they had not.  What a blow to Kathy and me.  All those years of supporting them in their artistic ventures and they could not even take a minute to read our grandly described adventures.  Kathy and I decided that there was no other solution than to put “The Hazards of Love” in the stereo and have them listen to the album as they read our blog.  They sat and sat staring at us and rolling their eyes as we listened to the album, but did not approach the computer. After awhile I said, “I’ve got 60 songs here people.  This can go on all night.”  It wasn’t long until they were both at the computer reading our genius.  You could see in their eyes that they were both impressed and envious that they are not as clever as we.  Sure they tried to hide it, but Kathy and I know how arties and their coal black jealous hearted souls work.      SO THOSE WHO READ OUR LAST INSTALLMENT KNOW I WAS PLANNING TO SEE REAL COLIN PLAY WITH THE DECEMBERISTS HERE IN BOSTON LAST WEEK. I DID, AND THEY ROCKED. ALBEIT, NOT AS MUCH AS THEY ROCKED IN RALEIGH, BUT STILL.  ONE WAY THE BOSTON SHOW MADE UP FOR THE 45-DEGREE JUNE WEATHER FOR AN OUTDOOR CONCERT, HOWEVER, WAS COLIN’S HAMMY BANTER DURING THE BAND’S PERFORMANCE OF HIS “WORST SONG EVER,” “DRACULA’S DAUGHTER.”  COLIN INTRODUCED US TO THE IDEA OF A “DOUCHEY CHORD PROGRESSION.” …This coming from the same man who will in the next breath say phrases such as “truncated version of this song” or “irascible blackguard.”  Hopefully this illustrates his alluring vocabulary.  THIS LED MISS LIZZY-POOH AND ME TO REALIZE THAT “DOUCHEY” IS A WORD WE DO NOT USE NEARLY ENOUGH. FORTUNATELY, BECAUSE WE HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR OPPORTUNITIES TO INTRODUCE THIS WONDERFUL WORD TO OUR DAILY BANTER, LIZ AND I JUST HAPPENED TO BE SIGHTSEEING TODAY. Bye the bye- some of you might be wondering what one uses as libation when blogging about Salem.  Well when one blogs in NC, one drinks Biltmore wine, and when one blogs about Salem, one drinks black cat wine.  We bought the kitty-cat wine in Amherst before we decided to go to Salem.  We don’t make this shit up people.  We simply exude coincidence.    In order to give me the grandest time possible in Mass., Kathy took me to Salem.  We had a splendid time, and not only are we going to share it with you, we are also going to give you a history lesson as well.    First of all, did you know that Salem is listed in the America’s National Tourist Tour Guide as America’s Douchiest City?  I did not in fact know this until I read the very informative placard welcoming us into the historic city.  HERE IS LIZ IN FRONT OF YE OLDE SALEM ARMORY VISITOR CENTER. SHE IS STANDING NEXT TO YE OLDE FOUNTAIN OF PEACE. THIS HISTORIC WATER FOUNTAIN HAS BEEN THE SITE OF UNPRECEDENTED WATER UNDER THE RACIAL BRIDGE, AS THEY SAY. YOU SEE, IT WAS HERE IN 1975 THAT JOHN F. KENNEDY AND MARTIN LUTHER KING MET ON HALLOWEEN NIGHT WHEN THEY WERE BOTH IN TOWN FOR THE NATIONAL WITCHES FOR PEACE AND RACIAL HARMONY CONVENTION.  AND IT WAS HERE ON THIS SITE THAT REV. KING AND JFK DECIDED TO DRINK THE WATERS OF RACIAL PEACE FROM THE FOUNTAIN, SIMULTANEOUSLY. CONSEQUENTLY, AS AN HISTORICAL FOOTNOTE, WHAT DID THEY DRESS UP AS? JFK WAS DRESSED AS MARILYIN MONROE AND KING WAS A PURITAN.     THIS IS THE SALEM WITCH MUSEUM. WE WERE IN FRONT OF IT. THE MUSEUM CLOSED AT 5. WE GOT THERE AT 4:30, BUT JUST AS WE WALKED UP, MY WATCH ALL OF A  SUDDEN READ 5:02. AND A MASS (NO PUN INTENDED, HEH HEH) OF PEOPLE SPEWED FROM THE BUILDING. THEY DON’T MESS AROUND WITH CLOSING TIME IN SALEM.    THIS IS YE OLDE MOLESTO-VAN IN FRONT OF THE SALEM WITCH MUSEUM. NO FURTHER COMMENT NEEDED.   Below is a picture of a stat   ure of John Conat.  He was the first American to open, prepare and eat the first packet of instant quaker oatmeal. THIS IS YE OLDE SALEM WAR MEMORIAL. THE FLOWERS WERE ALL FRESHLY PLACED JUST MOMENTS BEFORE WE ARRIVED. THEN THEY DIED. SALEM IS A TOWN BRIMMING WITH DEATH. WE EVEN HEARD SOME GUYS TALKING ABOUT IT AS WE WALKED DOWN THE STREET: “MAN, MY CELLPHONE JUST DIED.” I SAID TO LIZ, “AND DEATH SURROUNDS US AS A CHILLING BREEZE SWEEPS ACROSS OUR FACES.”   Below you will find a picture of some grave stones for ye olde super ancient graveyard.  It was full of squawking birds because Salem doesn’t want Kathy to enjoy the history found among the slumbering and tortured souls.  Not being afraid of birds, I braved it into the hallowed grounds and learned some interesting facts.  For instance, this particular graveyard is the home of Yorick Berstum, the plaque maker for all of the signs on every single house in Salem which tell visitors who lived in them and what their professions were.       PLEASE SEE BELOW FOR AN EXAMPLE OF THE SIGNS THAT ARE ON EVERY. SINGLE. HOUSE. IN SALEM. UNFORTUNATELY, THERE WAS A WALKING CHARICATURE OUTSIDE OF THE HOUSE BUILT FOR A “MARINER,” OR WE WOULD HAVE SHOWN YOU THAT ONE, TOO.   Please enjoy this photo of Kathryn pointing to an ever so douchey sign advertising ye olde witchcraft pictures.  It is a little known fact that if you pretend to be a witch and dress up to have your photo taken that you will be cursed to a live of douche-baggary and severe misfortune.      HEREWITH BELOW A PHOTO OF YE OLDE JOHN BERTRAM HOUSE. JOHN BERTRAM WAS THE OLDEST PURITAN TO COME OVER ON THE MAYFLOWER, SO IT IS FITTING THAT HIS HOUSE IS NOW AN OLDE FOLKES’ HOME.   HERE IS A PHOTO OF LIZ STANDING BEHIND A SIGN ADVERTISING YE OLDE LIZZIE BORDEN MUSEUM. WE WEREN’T KIDDING ABOUT THE DOUCHEY SIGNS PEOPLE.   The following is a picture of America’s first school of witchcraft and wizardry.  It was founded in 1685 by one Madam Johanna Kiki Rowlington.  I have it on good authority that all seven Harry Potter novels are influenced by this prestigious house of higher learning.  The wait for enrollment is a mile long and so hard to come by that even J.K. Rowling’s children have been waitlisted.    Getting to the House of Seven Gables proved to be more difficult than we had expected.  Much like the stairs in the 4th floor corridor of Hogwarts, the roads in Salem change.  This simple fact forced me to shake my fist and proclaim to Kathy, “Now I completely understand what Colin meant when he said, ‘O New England, I think I’d rather just wait in the car’.”   FIRST WE TRIED TO WALK THERE, BUT WERE COMPLETELY TURNED AROUND. THEN WE USED THE GPS ON MY PHONE AND ENDED UP ONE TOWN OVER FROM SALEM. Like I said 4th floor corridor.  FINALLY, WE WERE ON THE RIGHT TRACK, AND WE PULLED UP NEXT TO THE HOUSE OF THE SEVEN GABLES…JUST IN TIME FOR IT TO CLOSE.  PLEASE ENJOY THE FOLLOWING 7 PHOTGRAPHS THAT MISS LIZ AND I WERE ABLE TO TAKE AT THE HOUSE OF THE SEVEN GABLES. Not only is  The House of the Seven Gables Nathaniel Hawthorne’s home, where he composed various stories such as “The Minister’s Black Vail” and The Scarlet Letter,  but IT IS ALSO WHERE HAWTHORNE, BY THE UNQUESTIONED ACCOUNT OF ONE E.A. POE, WOULD ACT OUT WITH PUPPETS SOME OF THE, “SPICIER,” SCENES FROM HIS WORKS, MANY OF WHICH HAVE UNFORTUNATELY BEEN LOST TO US. One of which is a delightful tale about a young chimbley sweep who was orphaned and  must  live a  life of tortured chimney sweeping.  The poor lad was forced to supplement his income by selling his young, subtle, soot stained body to all of lonely widows in Salem.  It is widely believed among Hawthorneian scholars that “The Scarlet Chimbley” is largely autobiographical, and follows quite closely the details of Nathaniel’s early years.   here are seven pictures...         So Kathy hates me and she said, “god damn it liz! I’ve lived in boston for nigh on 3 years and I haven’t bothered to do anything touristy.  I can’t possibly be expected to do it on my own.  I am far too superior in my fellow-ness to do that damned sort of thing.  Now that you are here I have the perfect excuse to go on a duck tour.” “A dick tour?” “No, A Duck tour. It’s where you ride on an amphibious vehicle around the city and on the Charles River.” “But oh Kathy I get ever so motion sick.” I said to Kathy. “fuck you.” [SOUNDS JUST LIKE ME, RIGHT?] Was her reply and, “you’ll take these god damned motion sickness pills if it fucking kills you.” She said as she crammed the Dramamine down my throat.  She wouldn’t even let me have a swig of diet coke to wash them down with. [THAT’S ME, WITHHOLDER OF DIET COKE. OH, AND DELIBERATE GET-LIZ-DRUNK-ER. YEP, THAT’S ONE’S TRUE]  We get onto the boat to wait for the duck tour to begin, and Kathy and I proceed to text with our siblings.  She tells them that we are going on a duck tour, but her I phone corrects her spelling to say that we were going on a dick tour.  Har, har, har. [ACTUALLY, THE EXACT QUOTE WAS, “Liz and I are about to begin a dick tour of Boston and the only other people on the tour are our new Indian boyfriends. I feel dirty” Yes. THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT IT SAID]  As it turned out, the I phone was indeed correct it was a dick tour in that I think the tour guide was a dick. AND I THINK LIZ’S EXPECTATIONS OF SINCERITY FROM A DUCK TOUR GUIDE ARE A BIT TOO HIGH. I expect them to wear pants, not sweat pants. BUT LIZ, IT WAS COLD AND THE LAST TOUR OF THE DAY, AND WE WENT IN THE WATER. SWEAT PANTS WERE ENTIRELY APPROPRIATE. For thirty dollars, I expect at least dungarees. OK, I GIVE IN. FOR THIRTY DOLLARS I WANT AT LEAST A DICK TOUR. It was on from there to the fancy cocktail dinner where Kathy “ordered” me drinks…more like “plotted” my drinks.  That’s right gentle reader.  Her m.o. hasn’t changed.  Get liz drunk and laugh at her.  “OH, liz you will most certainly love this drink.”  I should know better by now.  It really is my own fault. fancy, unassuming cocktail that packs a punch   FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVEN’T FIGURED IT OUT YET, MISS LIZ IS A LITTLE TIPSY. AND, THEREFORE, A LITTLE FEISTY. I DID NOT PLOT TO GET HER DRUNK. IN FACT, I TRIED TO TALK HER OUT OF THE THIRD ROUND OF DRINKS, BUT SHE WASN’T HEARING IT. “No, Kathy, I’m your guest and I want to stay and have another overpriced cocktail.” “ARE YOU SURE, LIZ? IT MIGHT BE REALLY STRONG.” “YES, DAMN IT, Kathy, the stronger the better! Bring it on!” SO THAT’S THE REAL STORY OF HOW LIZ GOT TO THIS STATE AND WHY SHE’S WRITING LIKE I’M VICITMIZING HER. IN SHORT, I THINK LIZ’S BEHAVIOR IS SHOWING THAT YES, THERE IS SUCH A THING AS TOO MUCH DECEMBERISTS’ MUSIC. AFTER A CERTAIN POINT, IT ALL BECOMES JUST DEATH AND SUBJUGATION. ON THIS NOTE, YOU MIGHT WONDER IF I’M WRONG TO ENCOURAGE THIS ‘UNHEALTHY” INTEREST IN SUCH DARK AND TERRIFYING MUSIC. WELL, WHAT CAN I SAY? IT’S GOT A GOOD BEAT AND YOU CAN DANCE TO IT. PLUS, IF YOU THINK I HAVE THE WILL POWER TO TURN DOWN AN OPPORTUNITY TO OGLE THE MEAT CANDY THEN YOU REALLY DON’T KNOW ME, DO YOU? WHICH BRINGS US TO THE FINAL TOPIC: COLIN LOVES US, HE REALLY LOVES US! WHILE PERUSING HER PERIODIC UPDATE FROM THE DECEMBERISTS YESTERDAY, LIZ FOUND OUT THAT THE BAND HAS ADDED ON SOME TOUR DATES AT THE END OF THE SUMMER. AUGUST WILL BE BRINGING THEM BACK TO MASSACHUSETTS! SO THE SUMMER RUNG IN WITH THE DECEMBERISTS WILL BE CLOSED WITH THEM, TOO. ONLY THIS TIME, WE WILL BE WITH THE HONEY GLAZED HAM HIMSELF IN A PARK IN WESTERN MASS. OOOOH. I’M GETTING CHILLS JUST THINKING ABOUT IT.   Currently reading: Pride and Prejudice and Zombies: The Classic Regency Romance - Now with Ultraviolent Zombie Mayhem! By Jane Austen

Who Would Think Meat Could Be So Metal? (Originally Posted June, 07, 2009)

Sunday, June 07, 2009 

Who Would Think Meat Could Be So Metal? Current mood:Metal/Badass  Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes I know that you all have been waiting for it…the next installment of the adventures of Kathy and Liz. Well, here it is, our latest of escapades, and how fitting that it takes place at a Decemberists concert. Quickly, lets review the rules: I type in lower case and Kathy types in caps. Are we gonna blog the fuck out of it? Yes we are! Covered in this edition -What you talkin’ bout Ali? -The Decemberists = metal -What? No meat candy? -Glazed ham  -Imaginary Colin - Scooters and Fate -KATHY’S SHRINK AND HOW HE’S GONNA CALL THE NC TEACHER’S BOARD ON LIZ. -Are we ashamed?....Disclaimer  -Can we ask rhetorical questions and the answer them? Yes we can. -Meat Tenderizer Full Fucking Stop -“I don’t want a restraining order, Kathy” -Sweet Chili Glazed Wings: Liz the Meat Fetishist  -The Party in Our Tummies -Equus shoes OK, SO I ADMIT IT. I DON’T GET OUT MUCH ANYMORE. WELL, THE “ANYMORE” IMPLIES THAT THERE ONCE WAS A TIME WHEN I DID GET OUT “MUCH,” BUT, WHATEVER…THE FACT IS, I GET OUT EVEN LESS NOW THAN I EVER USED TO. SO, WHEN I DO, I WANT IT TO COUNT. LIKE, OGLING MAN CANDY IN ASHEVILLE, NC. LIKE GETTING MY RETINAS BURNED BY FREDERICK FUCKING OLMSTEAD. LIKE SEEING DANIEL RADCLIFFE’S DIRTY POTTER. AND, SINCE IT’S JUNE, I GUESS IT MUST BE TIME FOR MY ANNUAL CONCERT. AND, LIKE LAST YEAR, THIS CONCERT INVOLVED THE PRIME PIECE OF MAN CANDY: COLIN MELOY, THIS TIME HEADING FOR THE DECEMBERISTS. As some of you may or may not know, my friend Ali says that I should go to Portland because, “that’s where my people are.” I always took it for a sort of compliment and figured that she meant that I was hip or cool. Well, that’s what I thought until I saw the opening band Blind Pilot up close and personal. After their act, they came out to the t-shirt table to sign stuff. Kathy and I just happened to be purchasing our t-shirts when they arrived. From our seats they looked like nice, normal guys in plaid shirts and scruffy hair. Up close they looked like nice, normal, dirty guys who don’t bathe… well all except the trumpet player. He looked like Kenneth from 30 Rock. Kathy mentioned that they had just finished playing a set on a hot, sweaty stage and that they were touring. While she has a point, I maintain that that wasff a dirt and grime that comes from years of non-bathing and poor hygiene habits. They got me to thinking, “What is Ali really saying about me? Is she saying that I am dirty hippy?”, because I take offense to that. I take baths at least 3 times a week, the other days I shower. You know, she wouldn’t be the first person to “compliment” me and then in the same breath imply that I am a dirty, dirty hippy. Thanks world. Moving on and getting over my hurt ever so delicate feelings, I have to say that the concert R-O-C-K-E-D-! First of all, they played all of their new album and the two guest singers joined them on tour. It was everything I dreamed it could be and more. AND BY MORE, LIZ MEANS, WHETHER SHE REALIZES IT OR NOT, TOTALLY FUCKING METAL. LIKE 2.5 HOURS OF FOG MACHINES. A WOMAN WEARING A WHITE FLOWY DRESS DANCING ON STAGE AND SINGING THE PART OF THE DOOMED HANDMAIDEN. LIKE A SONG WITH 5 DIFFERENT PEOPLE PLAYING DRUMS TO ONE GUITAR PART AND CHANTING. I ASK YOU, DEAR READERS, IF THAT’S NOT METAL, WHAT IS? IT WOULD ONLY HAVE BEEN MORE METAL IF THERE HAD BEEN A GUY ONSTAGE WITH EARS SURGICALLY ALTERED TO LOOK LIKE AN ELF. FOR. REAL. THE DECEMBERISTS ARE NO LONGER, AS DAVE SAYS, THE “SWEATER-VEST-WEARING-INDIE-ROCKERS.” THEY ARE FULL BLOWN ROCK OPERA PERFORMING FOG MACHINE USING SO METAL YOUR EARS FEEL BLEEDY HALFWAY THROUGH THE CONCERT ROCKERS. SO. WHERE DOES THIS LEAVE LIZ, YOU MIGHT WONDER? WELL, I’M HERE TO PROVIDE THE ANSWER. AND BOY OH BOY IS IT A GOOD ONE. SO GOOD, I FOUND MYSELF SMIRKING ALL THE WAY THROUGH THE CONCERT (AND, YES, I ALSO FOUND MYSELF SMIRKING THE WHOLE TIME I LISTENED TO THE ALBUM AT HOME, AFTER LIZ SENT IT TO ME). THERE IS ONLY ONE POSSIBLE OPTION FOR LIZ, NOW THAT SHE IS, AS DOUG LONG FANTASIZED YEARS AGO, A METALHEAD: BACK TATTOO!!!! AND, IF I HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT, IT WILL BE IN ANCIENT GREEK. LIZ OUTRIGHT OBJECTED TO HAVING “HONEY GLAZED HAM [IN ANCIENT GREEK]” TATOOED ON HER BACK, BUT WE ARE ACCEPTING SUGGESTIONS. I WILL DO MY BEST TO TRANSLATE THE WINNER. OH YEAH, AND IN CASE YOU’RE STILL IN DOUBT “METAL? THE DECEMBERISTS?” I WILL TELL YOU ONE LAST PROOF: I BOUGHT A TOUR SHIRT AND IT IS A SKULL WEARING A CROWN. IMAGERY OF DEATH ON A TOUR TSHIRT? THE DECEMBERISTS? METAL? CASE CLOSED! you can sort of see the band here... fog machine and dancing elves... Metal musicians in suspenders, yes suspenders, and speaking of the band’s attire… For five minutes before the band took stage Kathy was giddy over the possibilities of seeing Colin’s famous meat candy arms. If you don’t remember, Colin’s arms are as hot as his vocabulary which is pretty damn hot. I tried my best to let her down easy because he usually keeps those babies hidden under long sleeves. When they emerged on the stage I could see in her crest fallen eyes that she was disappointed to see them in olde timie suits. She did point out to me at the end of one song, when the bass player Nate Query took off his coat, that one coat was off. She looked on in anticipation when Colin finally took off his coat, but alas, he was an arm tease only rolling up his sleeve mid-arm. Maybe next time Kathy; maybe next time. SIDE NOTE: AT ONE POINT COLIN REFERRED TO A SONG THEY WERE PERFORMING AS “THE TRUNCATED VERSION.” YES, HE USED THE WORD “TRUNCATED.” THAT HELPED MAKE UP FOR THE WITHHOLDING OF ARM CANDY. A LITTLE. At some point in the night, I don’t remember when, (I have the butt brain from catching a cold from a tiny orange toddler you see, and it has nothing to do with libation.) I referred to Colin as a “Glazed Ham” because he is sweet like a honey glaze, and he is a ham on stage. Har, har, har. It is the perfect progression from meat candy arms to a sweet, succulent honey glazed ham. I am speaking metaphorically here because I don’t eat the ham or the beef. I’m not much of a meat eater. (that’s what she said) This bad glazed ham joke will emerge as a pivotal point in the weekend a little later. SO, THIS WON’T SEEM ALL THAT ORIGINAL TO THOSE OF YOU WHO WATCHED THE DAILY SHOW LAST WEEK (AND SAW WYATT CYNAK’S BIT ABOUT IMAGINARY FRIENDS), BUT WE THOUGHT IT WAS HILARIOUS. LIZ AND I DECIDED THAT SINCE WE HAD AN EXTRA TICKET THAT, FOOLISHLY, NO ONE WOULD TAKE FROM US, WE WOULD CREATE AN EFFIGY OF COLIN TO SIT NEXT TO US THROUGHOUT THE CONCERT. SADLY, BECAUSE OF POOR LIGHTING IN THE CONCERT HALL, WE WERE UNABLE TO GET ANY PICTURES OF THE FAKE-MAN HIMSELF FOR YOU, DEAR READERS, BUT REST ASSURED, WE MADE FULL USE OF THAT OTHERWISE WASTED SEAT. AT FIRST, LIZ AND I SAT WITH IMAGINARY COLIN BETWEEN US. BUT THEN, AFTER THE OPENING BAND, LIZ AND I SAT NEXT TO EACH OTHER, SO THAT WE COULD BETTER HEAR EACH OTHER’S DIRTY COMMENTS ON THE OCCURRENCES ONSTAGE. Also, a couple came and sat in the row in front of me. Of course the super tall boyfriend sat in front of the five foot three shorty. Not missing an opportunity to mention the fact that I am vertically challenged, Kathy said, “ You knew it was bound to happen my short friend; you knew it was bound to happen.” THEN, TWO LATECOMERS SHOWED UP, AND ONE OF THEM SAT ON TOP OF FAKE COLIN! SINCE I HAVE NO COMPUNCTION AND I AM NOW SURELY A “MASSHOLE,” I LOOKED RIGHT AT THE KID AND SAID, “THAT SEAT IS OURS, TOO.” I IMMEDIATELY FELT SILLY, UNTIL LIZ POINTED OUT TO ME THAT WE NEEDED THAT SEAT FOR FAKE COLIN, AND THAT COLIN DIDN’T LIKE BEING SAT ON. SUCH IS THE SLY SNEAKYNESS OF MISS LIZZY POOH, THAT I DIDN’T EVEN REALIZE THAT SHE WAS HOARDING FAKE COLIN UNTIL THE BOYS LEFT (EARLY. THE ONES WHO WERE LATE. SERIOUSLY. WHY WERE THEY THERE?) AND I TOLD HER HOW GUILTY I FELT. THEN SHE POINTED OUT HOW HAPPY SHE WAS TO HAVE FAKE COLIN ALL TO HERSELF. ALL THE WHILE I WAS JUST SITTING THERE WISHING AND HOPING THAT REAL COLIN WOULD CROWD SURF HIS WAY OUT TO ROW K. A Recreation of Imaginary Colin  Kathy with Imaginary Colin Imaginary Colin's Ticket & Signature To be serious for a second, and I promise only a second. The concert fucking rocked!!!! The Decemberists played all of their new album, took a break, played a second full set, and then played one hell of an encore. They played for 2.5 hours. Hells Yeah! If you get a chance, you MUST go and see them on this tour. It is clear that they are having a great time, and it is a great show and worth the drive or money. Back to the story…Kathy enjoyed the concert so much that as soon as we got out of the show Kathy vowed to go to the concert in Boston next week. When we got home, we went directly to the computer to purchase her ticket. I cannot go even though I was already planning to visit Kathy in a few weeks because the concert is two days before I get out for summer break. Stupid work ethic and sense of responsibility!!! I blame my mother. Anyway, while on the band’s webpage, Kathy and I found a t-shirt with a scooter on it. We thought, “How odd. What do scooters have to do with anything?” The next afternoon on our daily wandering Kathy noticed scooters parked in various places. She asked me what was with all of the scooters everywhere. I have never noticed a plethora of scooters in the Cary/Apex area, and was unable to give her an answer. As it turned out, these mystery scooters were a sign from the great Decemberisty Gods from above. We saw the scooter below parked beside a Honey Baked Ham store. Thus the mystery of the scooter t-shirts was answered, and proof that Colin knows he is meat candy. Honey Baked Scooter Mmmm.... a sign from above....honey glazed ham next to a scooter. The first scooter sighting Let me start off Kathy’s next part of the story by saying that The Hazards of Love, their new album, is a “folk opera”. (Colin’s description not mine) It has big words and obscure references. I have gifted this album to several people with specific instructions to read the lyrics on the first listening. There are different speaking parts and Colin sings all of them but the two female parts. This can make for a confusing listening experience thus the explicit instructions. I even print off the lyrics with notes explaining all of the obscure references and defining the big words. People should always listen to Liz.  YES, I REALLY SHOULD HAVE LISTENED TO LIZ. ‘CAUSE HERE’S WHAT HAPPENED: MY ITUNES CRASHED WHILE DOWNLOADING THE ALBUM, AND THE SONGS GOT ALL OUT OF ORDER. SO, AT THE RISK OF LIZ’S IRE, I WILL TELL YOU A ROUGH OUTLINE OF THE FOLK OPERA: GIRL SAVES FAWN, FAWN TURNS INTO MAN, GIRL FALLS IN LOVE WITH MAN, EVIL MAN KIDNAPS GIRL, LOVER-MAN RETURNS, RESCUES GIRL AND THEN THEY BOTH DIE. AND SOMEWHERE IN THERE, THERE’S AN EVIL QUEEN. IT’S NOT REALLY A FEEL-GOOD STORY. BUT IT DOES MAKE FOR SOME KICK-ASS METAL. BUT WHAT HAPPENED WAS THAT MY ITUNES PUT THE SONGS IN THE WRONG ORDER, AND THE FIRST SONG I HEARD WAS “THE RAKE’S SONG.” THIS IS THE SONG SUNG BY THE EVIL MAN, IN ORDER TO ESTABLISH HOW EVIL HE IS. SO, HE SINGS THIS SONG ABOUT HOW HE HAD THIS WIFE HE LOVED AND THEY HAD TONS OF KIDS AND THEN SHE DIES IN CHILDBIRTH AND THEN HE GETS SICK OF THE KIDS AND KILLS THEM ALL. AND HE DESCRIBES HOW HE DOES IT. FAND THEN, LATER THE KIDS COME BACK AND SING A SONG ABOUT HOW HE’S KILLING THEM. AND, IN THE WHOLE ALBUM, THE LYRICS TO THESE TWO SONGS ARE THE MOST DISTINCT, SO, EVEN THOUGH I LISTENED TO THE OTHER SONGS ON THE ALBUM (OUT OF ORDER) I SORT OF MADE THEM ALL FIT WITH THIS IDEA I HAD GOTTEN OF THE FOLK OPERA BEING ABOUT A MAN KILLING ALL HIS KIDS. I THOUGHT IT WAS KIND OF PERVERSE, AND I WONDERED TO WHAT LENGTHS LIZ’S LOVE FOR THE DECEMBERISTS WOULD GO, BUT, HEY, THE MUSIC WAS KICK ASS, SO WHAT’S A LITTLE FICTIONAL INFANTICIDE, AS LONG AS LIZ THINKS IT’S OK, RIGHT?  AND WHEN MY SHRINK ASKED WHY I WAS FLYING TO NC, AND I TOLD HIM, “TO GO TO A CONCERT,” HE THEN ASKED ABOUT THE BAND. SO I TOLD HIM WHAT I THOUGHT THE ALBUM WAS ABOUT, AND HE ASKS, “AND SHE’S A TEACHER???” ABOUT LIZ. I HAVE ALREADY PROMISED TO CORRECT MY MISREPRESENTATIONS. ALL THIS BECAUSE I DIDN’T FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS. I AM A BAD STUDENT. BAD STUDENT. BAD.  The order in which Kathy listened to the album creates a very creepy and disturbing story and it doesn’t make sense. I really couldn’t figure out why Kathy’s shrink was so disturbed by my excitement for the album, and why Kathy kept making comments as to the disturbing nature of the songs. I figured Kathy was a lot more sensitive than I had thought, and began to question her claims of being “metal” and “bad ass”. All became clear when between sets she asked me why they would play the album out of order. Are We Ashamed?: Disclaimer Some might wonder if I am ashamed or worried that in my disillusioned imagination Colin Meloy might read our objectification of him. The answer is yes, yes I am, but it is my hope that in a snowball’s chance in hell if he did read it, he would be amused by our creation of such terms as “meat candy” and “Juicy Jaw”. It is my hope that his love of words will override his disgust of our turning him into a meaty sexual object. Are we worried that Colin’s wife might read this blog and be offended that we are writing so graphically about her husband’s sweet, sweet arms? Not really. We figure that she’s the one who drew the scooter t-shirt, and thus knows how meaty her hubby is. We think that she will feel pleased that she is the one in sole possession of said meat candy. As both of them will be pleased by this post, it will bring them closer together as a couple. Are we strengthening a marriage? Yes we are! Are we pleased with ourselves? Indubitably! SO, WE NEEDED TO REPLENISH LIBATIONS, AND WE HEADED TO KROGER. AS WE WANDERED AROUND KROGER LOOKING FOR THE ELUSIVE MAGICAL TOOL THE WINE KEY, I JUST STARTED NAMING THINGS WE WERE PASSING BY. “FABRIC SOFTENER,” “RED BULL,” “SUPPOSITORIES,” AND THEN…AND THEN…”MEAT TENDERIZER.” AND, HOLY SHIT. THERE IT WAS. THE ELUSIVE WINE KEY. AND ALL I COULD SEE WAS THE WINE KEY. I WAS SO DISTRACTED BY FINDING OUR ELUSIVE QUARRY THAT I FAILED TO NOTICE ONE MISS LIZZY POOH DOUBLED OVER WITH LAUGHTER BECAUSE WE WERE STANDING NEXT TO A VERITABLE PYRAMID OF MEAT TENDERIZER. HOW COULD WE HAVE FAILED TO CONSIDER THIS? WHY OH WHY DIDN’T WE BUY IT? EVEN AS WE WALKED OUT OF THE KROGER, BILTMORE WINE IN ARMS, LIZ WAS SAYING, “SHOULD WE GO BACK? SHOULD WE GO GET IT?” “WHAT?” “THE MEAT TENDERIZER!!” “OH, OH, NO LIZ, THAT MEAT’S ALREADY TENDER.”  LITTLE DID WE REALIZE THAT ONCE ONE HAS MEAT ON THE BRAIN, IT IS AN INTOXICATING CONCEPT. WE WENT TO CHILI’S FOR MARGARITAS AND DINNER. AND WHAT DID LIZ ORDER? HOW COULD IT BE OTHERWISE? SHE HAD THE SWEET CHILI GLAZED NUGGETS (BONELESS WINGS). AS LIZ GIGGLED AWAY, I TEASED HER WITH THE PROSPECT OF RETURNING TO KROGER TO MOLEST THEIR HAMS. “IF YOU WANT THE MEAT TENDERIZER SO BADLY, WHY DON’T WE JUST GO BACK AND GET IT? WHY DON’T WE GO GET THE MEAT TENDERIZER AND A HAM AND GET SOME PICTURES OF YOU RUBBING IT IN?” TO WHICH OUR ESTEEMED SHAPER OF YOUNG MINDS REPLIED, “I DON’T WANT A RESTRAINING ORDER FROM COLIN, KATHY.” TO WHICH I IMMEDIATELY REPLIED, “I THINK IT’S A RESTRAINING ORDER FROM KROGER YOU HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT, LIZ.” I ALSO NEED TO MENTION HERE THE CHILDISH DELIGHT I TAKE IN NEAR-VEGETARIAN LIZ’S NEWFOUND MEAT FETISH. I MEAN, HONEY GLAZED HAM, MEAT TENDERIZER, SWEET CHILI GLAZED CHICKEN…AS LONG AS IT’S COVERED IN SWEET CANDIED GOODNESS AND IT ONCE USED TO BE LIVING, LIZ NOW SEEMS TO BE OBSESSED WITH IT. SCORE ONE FOR ME AND TED NUGENT. In the purpose of full disclosure, Kathy-Wathy and I felt that in order to fully capture this weekend’s events we should tell you about having a party in our tummies. (See Yo Gabba Gabba!) This included margaritas, nachos, and honey glazed wings. Unfortunately for Kathy, her Panera Samich from lunch stayed far too long at the party, and she was tasting it all day. I think that the meat candy probably enjoyed the margarita, vodka, and Biltmore wine because when we throw a party, man do we throw a party. Party My Tummy  Now….Let us travel back in time to September 2008. If you recall, the last time Kathy-Wathy and I blogged together we were looking forward to seeing Daniel Radcliff’s Harry Potter. Do you remember gentle reader? Good. Now come on back to the present. Kathy and I were in search of ridiculous shoes, and I have to say that we were quite successful in this venture. We found $126.00 Michael Kors shoes that when worn make one look and walks like a horse/actor from Equus. Of course we photographed ourselves in them for you faithful reader. Just so you know how dedicated we are to you, we forged through the throng of DSW employees to take pictures. I swear the shoes were bugged because each time we touched them some shoe seller would appear like magic to ask if we needed help and to watch our every move. Equus Shoes not to be confused w/ X-mas Shoes I think that’s about it. We hope that you have enjoyed our latest adventures, and if you haven’t who cares because we sure have entertained ourselves! Currently listening: The Hazards of Love By The Decemberists Release date:

Reunited and it Feels so Good (Originally Posted July, 08, 2008)

Tuesday, July 08, 2008

Reunited and it Feels so Good Current mood: satisfied Category: Food and Restaurants dearest hound dog's pizza, oh how much i have missed your smokin' joe crust, tomato bazil sause, mushroom, black olive, and fetta cheese goodness. many a night have i pined away for your garlic buttery awesomeness. you are indeed the finest pizza this world has ever know. not only did you provide me with a rich delicious dinner, a tantalizing midnight snack, but a long awaited savory breakfast as well. lushious pizza, do you never disappoint? darling hound dog's i have longed for you dimmly lit dinning room with wobbly tables. i love your dirty floors and barly clean restroom facilities. long have i yearned for the sight of your mural clad walls and sound of your fully stocked juckbox. oh, super stoned wait staff how i have missed you too. tattooed server who forgot my soda for 10 minutes after he had served everyone else their drinks, you truely topped off my eating experience. i am in awe of the careful why you have forgotten every beer and drink that you caring and your constantly perplexed look as we asked you for napkins and forks with our plates. i admire your detication to your job as you proceed to stay so stoned through out our visit that you repletedly got lost on your way to our table. inside my soul i know that when the wind blows it whispers "hound dog's." .....my perfect hound dog's pizza with smokin' joe garlic crust, tomato basil sause, mushrooms, black olive, and fetta cheese in all it's goodness. Currently listening: Viva La Vida By Coldplay Release date: 2008-06-17

They wouldn't let us share a bed, so we shared a coke: part due or DAMN YOU, OLMSTED (Originally Posted April, 3008)

Saturday, April 12, 2008 

They wouldn’t let us share a bed, so we shared a coke: part due or DAMN YOU, OLMSTED Current mood:  cantankerous  Category: Travel and Places so were did we leave off last night?......it is all sooooooooo hazy.  the following were promised and we didn't get to them... -daniel radcliffe's harry potter -the huddle house -juicy jaw we will also be covering the following in this blog entry... -the long and winding road (with a hangover from hell) -retina burning tulips -we listened the fuck out of that audio tour -fuck you fucking olmsted -confirmed bachelor -fucking olmsted tries to kill us -rape tunnel -the true definition of irony......as personified by liz, kathy, and mother fucking olmsted -p.s......how does anderson cooper fit into this family???? o.k.....so when looking for food last night on our quite unproductive search for food, kathy and i came across a waffle house rip off the huddle house. we seriously considered going there over tgi friday's. in the end we decided that the huddle house was not a place one should go after dark...it is best visited in the daytime....today we discovered that it is also a place you don't visit during the day because the huddle house is the sort of place you only want to eat at in the middle of the night.....quite the catch-22. LIZ FORGOT TO MENTION THAT ONE OF THE FACTORS CONTRIBUTING TO ITS CREEPINESS WAS THE SOUPED-UP LOOKING AMBULANCE PARKED OUTSIDE. SO, THE JUICY JAW: THIS IS MORE A FOOTNOTE TO YESTERDAY'S ODE TO COLIN MELOY'S BICEPS. DID WE ALSO MENTION THAT, IN ADDITION TO SUPERSEXYROCKSTAR ARMS, THE MAN ALSO HAD QUITE A LOVELY JAW? IT WAS ESPECIALLY NOTICEABLE WHEN HE SET HIS JAW AS HE HELD OUT THE NOTE AT THE END OF A VERSE. MMMMM.  another note about last night and the concert......because i forced kathy to resort back to smoking by making relive her youth on the way to asheville, i was carrying her cigarettes in my purse. thus, every time i looked into my purse i had this thought...."cigarettes?...wait, i don't smoke." here is a picture of kathy reenacting my surprise.....and let me tell you, i had that reaction the entire night....even after the concert when we got diner and when we got back to the hotel.  here a picture of kathy-wathy looking proud of her brilliant plan to keep our drinks could. mind you, at this point in the night, we had not yet been drinking. OH, AND THERE'S THIS OTHER DETAIL THAT WILL BECOME IMPORTANT LATER, WHEN WE TELL YOU ALL ABOUT HOW FREDERICK LAW OLMSTEAD FUCKED US OVER. AFTER HIS REGULAR SET, WHEN COLIN CAME OUT FOR HIS ENCORE, SOME DRUNK GIRL UP FRONT PASSED OUT. SO, BEFORE HE COULD SING HIS REMAINING SONGS, COLIN HAD TO CALL FOR "SECURITY" (QUITE A JOKE IF YOU REMEMBER THAT WE WERE IN A HIPPY CLUB IN ASHEVILLE, NC), NEEDLESS TO SAY, "SECURITY" WAS A LOOONG TIME COMING, AND COLIN HAD TO SINGLE-ARM-EDLY SHINE A FLASHLIGHT DOWN ON THE AREA WHERE SHE HAD FALLEN, UNTIL THEY RAISED THE HOUSE LIGHTS AND SOME PEOPLE MADE SPACE FOR HER.  THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD, OR THE FIRST HINT THAT OLMSTEAD WAS AGAINST US:  SO, AS I'M SURE ALL OF YOU WHO READ YESTERDAY'S ENTRY WILL NOT BE SURPRISED TO LEARN, MISS LIZZIE-POO AND I HAD SOME WRETCHED HANGOVERS THIS MORNING, ESPECIALLY AFTER HAVING TO GET UP SUPEREARLY TO ORDER THE DANIEL RADCLIFFE THEATER TICKETS. SERIOUSLY. THE HANGOVER WAS SO BAD, AND MY BLOOD SUGAR SO LOW THAT ALMOST AS SOON AS WE GOT IN THE CAR, I HAD TO ASK LIZ TO STOP AT MC-FRIGGIN-DONALD'S SO I COULD GET SOME FOOD IN MY STOMACH. IT WAS JUST SOMETHING VERY LITTLE SO IT WOULDN'T RUIN LUNCH, BUT IT TOOK THE RAZOR SHARP EDGE OFF MY HUNGER, SO THAT WE COULD GET TO THE BILTMORE ESTATE WITHOUT ME TRYING TO KILL LIZ FOR FOOD AS SHE DROVE. SO, WE GET TO THE ENTRANCE TO THE BILTMORE ESTATE, AND IT'S PRETTY. YEAH, THE LANDSCAPING WAS SUPER NICE...BAMBOO GROVES AND ALL SORTS OF LUSH FLORA. THERE WERE CREEKS AND BRIDGES, PATHS, AND ALL SORTS OF DIFFERENT GROUPINGS OF PLANTS...SERIOUSLY, EVERY TIME WE TURNED A CURVE, THERE WAS SOMETHING DIFFERENT (WHICH WE LATER LEARNED ON THE AUDIO TOUR, WAS TOTALLY INTENTIONAL, BUT WHATEVER). AND BOY, OH, BOY WERE THERE CURVES APLENTY. THE FRIGGIN FRONT DRIVE WAS ABOUT 3 MILES LONG. THREE LONG, CURVY MILES. AT A SPEED LIMIT OF 30 MILES PER HOUR...ONLY THE ASSHOLE IN FRONT OF US WOULDN'T GO OVER 20. AND JESUS, WHEN WE GOT TO THE 5 MPH CURVE, LIZ AND I SHOUTED EXPLETIVES (SHOCK), AND THE FRIGGIN ASSHOLE IN FRONT OF US, LIKE STOPPED. BUT, FOR REAL, BEFORE WE WERE EVEN LIKE 1/4 MILE DOWN THE DRIVE WAY, LIZ AND I WERE ABOUT TO VOMIT. EVERY CURVE MADE US MORE NAUSEATED. ALL OF THIS, AND WE WERE NOT EVEN AT THE ESTATE YET.  yes, oh, that road gave new meaning to the song "long and winding road"....which i told kathy that the song was written about that particular road...she believed me for a moment...he he he he. i am going to digress for a moment....back to the tickets that we had to get up to order. guess whose going to see equus this fall? that's right we are.....this brings to me to the fact that we are going to see daniel radcliffe's "harry potter" ha ha ha ha. i have been cracking myself up with that joke for 2 days....which made me wonder if he uses that as a pick up line..."well hello ladies, would you like to see my harry potter?" JUST ANOTHER FOOT NOTE HERE: LAST NIGHT, WHEN MISS LIZZIE-POO WAS, UM, SLIGHTLY INEBRIATED, AND WE WERE ON THE PHONE WITH THE BANSTET, LITTLE MISS LIZZIE-POO CRACKED HERSELF UP SO HARD SHE ALMOST ROLLED OFF THE BED. AFTER SHE HAD FINALLY SHARED WITH MRS. BANSY THE "SEE HIS HARRY POTTER" JOKE, LIZ JUST COULDN'T HELP HERSELF, AND SHE HAD TO go there: "MAYBE RUPERT GRINT LIKES TO ASK PEOPLE TO SEE HIS RONALD WEASLEY" AND AFTER SHE HAD CALMED HERSELF DOWN FROM THAT ONE...IT WAS ON TO THE LAST OF THE THREE NOW FILTHIFIED FORMERLY CHILD ACTORS. (JUST A NOTE HERE: AS I READ THIS SECTION TO HER JUST NOW, SHE ALMOST FELL OFF THE BED again, JUST HEARING WHAT I WROTE) i have said it before and i will maintain that j.k. rowling makes it soooo easy for us to make these sort of jokes that she wants us to make them.....i am only fulfilling her hopes and dreams. so...as we are driving up the longest windingest road the world has ever known, we pass some of the "festival of flowers" tulips and kathy says "oh god, those flowers are too fucking bright......oh god! they are burning my retinas." they were offensively bright. we park and walk to the estate which was supposed to take us something like 8 minutes. in actuality it only takes 3 or 4. LATER WHEN WE WERE CHECKING THE MAP TO SEE HOW FAR THE CONSERVATORY WAS FROM THE MAIN HOUSE, WE SAW THIS: DISTANCE TO CONSERVATORY: 1/4 MILE (ABOUT 20 MINUTE WALK). I COMMENTED TO LIZ THAT, NOT EVEN IN MY MOST UNFIT, SMOKING A PACK OF CIGARETTES A DAY SUPER OVERWEIGHT HIGH SCHOOL DAYS, WHEN I WAS FORCED TO RUN THE MILE, AND THEN INTENTIONALLY WALKED/WENT AS SLOWLY AS POSSIBLE TO MISS AS MUCH OF THE FOLLOWING CLASS AS POSSIBLE, NEVER DID IT TAKE MORE THAN 20 MINUTES TO "RUN" THE MILE. SO, LIZ AND I WERE SMUGLY MOCKING THE DISTANCE MEASUREMENTS. LITTLE DID WE REALIZE HOW OUR SMUG MOCKERY WOULD COME BACK TO BITE US IN THE ASS, IN THE FORM OF "REVENGE OF THE OLMSTEAD"  enjoy this picture to the retina burning flora here is a photo of the house eight long minutes away...har har har now to the audio tour story....kathy can tell it better than me because she experienced the funny part of this and not me. OK, SO I KNOW MOST IF NOT ALL OF YOU ARE AWARE OF THE BLOG "STUFF WHITE PEOPLE LIKE." I'M NOT SURE IF "AUDIO TOURS" IS ON THERE, BUT, IF NOT, IT SHOULD BE. SO, NEITHER LIZ NOR I ARE "AUDIO TOUR-TYPES," BUT THE TICKETS CAME WITH THE PACKAGE WE GOT FROM THE MOTEL, SO WE BOTH JUST PICKED THEM UP. AND, AFTER ONLY ONE DAMN ROOM (OUT OF OVER 60 ON THE WHOLE TOUR), THIS BLACK GUY KIND OF CUTS ME OFF, AND BRINGS HIS GIRLFRIEND AROUND ME, AND THEN LOOKS AT ME (AS IF I COULDN'T SEE OR HEAR HIM JUST BECAUSE I HAD ON FRIGGIN HEADPHONES...WHICH AT THAT MOMENT HAPPENED NOT TO HAVE ANYTHING PLAYING ON THEM ANYWAY), AND POINTS ME OUT TO HIS GIRLFRIEND, AND SAYS, "MAN THESE WHITE PEOPLE ARE REALLY INTO THEIR AUDIO TOURS." AS I'M STANDING THERE LOOKING. RIGHT. AT. HIM. IT WAS VERY STRANGE. AND THEN OF COURSE I BECAME NOT ONLY SELF CONSCIOUS, BUT CONSCIOUS OF EVERY PERSON ON THE TOUR WHO DID OR DID NOT HAVE AN AUDIO TOUR. AND, I HAVE TO SAY, THE MAN DID MAKE AN ACCURATE OBSERVATION. OVERWHELMINGLY, THE ONLY PARTAKERS OF THE AUDIO TOUR were WHITE. INCLUDING ONE COUPLE OF A WHITE WOMAN AND A BLACK MAN...ONLY SHE HAD THE AUDIO TOUR.  on the audio tour, kathy-wathy and i learned a lot...for example, we learned or theorized that mr. george w. biltmore is what you might call a "confirmed bachelor". we came to this realization when gazing at painting across a room. at the same time, we both thought "that guy in the painting looks super gay".....when we turned back on the audio tour we learned that the man was in fact mr. biltmore. now i know you are saying "liz, biltmore was married and had a daughter" well i say to you sir or madam, that might be the case but he also only had one child, he and his wife had separate bed rooms....we saw them....and how would you explain his ever so close "working relationships" with richard morris hunt (the biltmore architect) and fredrick fucking olmsted?  after the ever so enlightening audio tour, kathy-wathy decided to give those retina burning flowers another chance and check out the conservitory. this is when we came to realize the true evil that is fredrick law olmsted. all we wanted to do was check out the flora and fauna...or.."flauna" of the biltmore estate. all we wanted to do was see the garden and the bass pond...but that fucking fuckity fuck olmsted had another idea in mind....torture....as we walked farther and farther into the garden looking for the bass pond, we noticed that we were walking down hill and that would have to walk back up hill to get back to the car. but just like last nights realization that asheville is a food tease, we realized too late that olmsted is a bass pond tease....did we mention that fredrick law olmsted was the landscaper? (you might have heard of this other project he designed? NYC's Central Park?) we turned back before we got to the bass pond....and kathy decided that it would be a great idea to power walk back to the car and that it would be shorter walk to follow a meandering path back to the car. (OK, LIZ, BLAME THE FUCK OUT OF ME, WHATEVER. I DIDN'T HEAR YOU SUGGESTING ANY OTHER PLAN AT THE TIME!!) well, much like olmsted's long and winding road to the estate, his paths are also long and winding and up hill. we thought that we were going to collapse from exhaustion.....and the colin meloy would have to come and hold a flash light over us to alert the staff that there were two hikers down. we walked and walked and curved and curved and there was still no parking lot.  here is a photo of what kathy so eloquently called "hay turds" I DID COMMENT ONCE OR TWICE THAT I THOUGHT IT WAS A BAD SIGN THAT ALL OF THE PATH DIRECTIONAL SIGNS POINTED THE SAME WAY FOR "BILTMORE MANSION" AND "PARKING LOT." (BECAUSE WE THOUGHT WE WERE IN A POSITION WHERE WE WOULD HAVE HAD THE MANSION ON THE LEFT, AND THE PARKING LOTS ON THE RIGHT). SO, AS WE ARE SERIOUSLY BASICALLY WALKING IN GIANT, SLOPED FUCKING CIRCLES (ALBEIT VERY PRETTY AND WELL-LANDSCAPED CIRCLES, COMPLETE WITH SIGNS IDENTIFYING ALL THE FLORA), WE ARE SERIOUSLY CURSING FREDERICK LAW OLMSTEAD--INCLUDING SHAKING FISTS RAISED TO THE SKY. AND THEN. AND. THEN. SOMETHING FLIES TOWARD US OUT OF THE SKY. FUCKING OLMSTEAD DECIDES TO GET US BACK. HE HURLS TREE DEBRIS AT US FROM UP ON HIGH. FORTUNATELY, THE SPIRIT OF THE RECENTLY INVOKED MR. MELOY SAVES THE DAY BY KNOCKING THE TREE-MISSLE OFF OF ITS TRAJECTORY, AND IT FALLS TO THE PATH IN FRONT OF OUR FEET.  AND THEN WE TURN (YET ANOTHER) CORNER ON THE PATH, AND THERE IS A WHOLE NEW OLMSTEADIAN OBSTACLE: THE RAPE TUNNEL. AT THAT POINT, LIZ AND I JUST STOPPED. WE HAD NARROWLY AVOIDED ATTACK FROM THE FAUNA RUSTLING IN THE UNDERBRUSH, STAVED OFF DEATH BY MISSLE ATTACK FROM ABOVE, AND NOW THIS. NOW THIS FUCKER, THOUGH DEAD FOR YEARS, WANTED US TO WALK THROUGH A RAPE TUNNEL. SO, LIZ DID THE ONLY THING ONE CAN DO IN SUCH A SITUATION: SHE GOT OUT HER CAMERA AND TOOK PICTURES. AND THEN WE REALIZED THAT, SINCE IT WAS SO EFFING LATE, WE WERE PROBABLY THE ONLY PEOPLE LEFT ON THE GROUNDS, SO WE COULD RUN QUICKLY TO THE (RELATIVE) SAFETY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE TUNNEL. AND SO WE DID. IT WAS MERELY ANOTHER 15 MINUTES FROM THAT POINT BEFORE WE GOT TO THE CAR. AND, IT TURNED OUT THAT WITH ALL OUR WANDERING AND "SHORTCUTS," WE FINALLY GOT BACK ON PATH AT THE EXACT SAME PLACE WE HAD ENTERED FROM HOURS AND HOURS PREVIOUS.  the olmsted tree of death if you look at the center of this shot and see the bit of green back, you will be looking at what olmsted tried to empale us with....the fucking bastard...nature is supposed to be relaxing...not deadly. the rape tunnel.... it is at this point in our day that kathy and i came realize the true meaning of irony....and if you ever visit the biltmore estate you might want remember this little nugget of wisdom. we finally make bake to the car and begin following the signs to exit the estate. it is not long into the once again ever so curvy drive that we realize that we are fucking driving past every mother fucking thing that we had spent the last hour walking past. that's right people that bastard olmsted had yet another fuck you in store for us. all of or walking was double for not because you don't need to walk through the garden....i will reiterate this because we can not stress this to you enough faithful readers...you drive past all of it on your way out!!!!!!! i will tell you this....we did find the fucking bass pond....about five minutes into our drive out. i don't think i need to tell you that kathy and i took one last opportunity to curse that bastard of a landscaper olmsted. i'm not sure how to end this blog entry....kathy-wathy and i hope that you have enjoyed reading about our misadventures. here is a picture of the towels...this is just for you karen....because you like to make towel monkeys... 11:01 PM