The girlfriend’s dad found a few of these under cushion of the leather chair…is it wrong that I ate them? They were cherry– and soft!
Does anyone else love these little treats as much as I do? I especially like the Care Bear kind: lots of the ‘creamy’ snacks in every pack.
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These little fingerless, studded gloves are hott and the perfect combination of West Side Story, MJ and the homeless man down the street (oh, wait, that’s a hipster).
Here’s a pair available at TopShop:
Paris approves:
And my favorite Domestic Abuse victim, Rhiana:
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This video made me really wish I had a dragon, a fountain and thirty good looking friends. Can someone help me make this happen?…I didn’t think so.
PS. I used to play saxophone in the HS Marching Band and the Jazz Band….It was never quite that sexy.
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The hairy chest I never had.
…And a penis to match.
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Ann has been obsessively looking at the baby dog listings and yes, I want another little kid too.
BUT…we’re not allowed to have dogs in our apt.
IF…I could, I’d really like:
1. A pom complete with lion cut
2. A bratty Affenpinscher in a t-shirt
3. A lean blue Mr. Italian Greyhound
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I love Eric Myer’s “Stereotypes.”
You’ve got nine people: The Asian business man, goth college feminist, African tribal man, pretty Indian woman, homeless gang type, perky beauty queen, stern cop, blond Asian lesbian and an old Lenny Kravitz wannabe.
Now select a top half of the face from one character and a bottom half from another and tada! Instantly gender, race and ugly outfits collide into a whole new person. It’s hilarious and incredibly entertaining.
If you’re still not satisfied, try Stereotypes Edition II with 20 faces to rearrange.
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New York hipsters have given the term, dumpster diving, a whole new definition. This summer on a secret Brooklyn rooftop, people were swimming in recycled garbage dumpsters. Quite a beautiful idea: get a few trash containers at a good price, clean ‘em out, put in a fancy liner and dump in the Evian. Don’t forget to set up the lounge chairs, tiki torches and stock the fridge with plenty of cheap beer (cans of course). Keep it elite and you’ll have people flashing you at the corner store in order to get the VIP all-access pass to your Hipster Country Club.
Check out the full article on NewYorkTimes.Com
I think I may try out this idea here in Oakland. Yes, it may be mid-September, but the temperatures are still up and the sun is always shinin’ in the East Bay. Plus, garbage cans are everywhere, and who couldn’t stand to loose a few pounds to fit in the mini-pool?
sleep or swim?
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The great sea rig herself: The" SS Jeremiah O'Brien"
Today was my first official shift as a working member of the SF Weekly Street Team, a.k.a. sweet promotions hook-up with the paper for which I’m vying for full-time employment. Another sweet lady and I were hired to hang out on a ship for an extended amount of time, take photos of people getting drunk, get them to sign up for the newsletters and mingle like it was our job…oh, wait, it was…
It was totally kick-ass.
The view alone was spectacular. I could see both the Golden Gate and the Bay Bridge. The fog was thick out past the sailboats and the mountains crested far back as the eye could see. The pale pinks, blues and yellows of the city’s hillside dwellings were the only color under a drab sky of clouds and teasing sprinkles.
Alcatraz island was so close I could nearly reach out and touch that sexy ghost of an inmate swimming to shore.
this may/may not be the brother of the seal I met
I also saw a friendly seal swimming in the midst of some lingering water fowl.
The sixth-annual Brews on the Bay was held on the SS Jeremiah O’Brien, a WWII ship that docks in the ol’ tourist trap of Fisherman’s Wharf at Pier 43 1/2. A bunch of local breweries offer up their goods for unlimited sampling, and you know how people love to indulge in the freebies. People were super friendly and willing to chit chat inbetween gulps and signing the photo release forms we handed out.
We also gave away little SF Weekly prizes: condoms, gum, lighters with bottle opener function and blunt wraps. Yes, blunt wraps and no, not ‘blood wraps’ as multiple people misunderstood due to the loudass U2 cover band blaring in our ears. This my friends, is why I moved to this city. In Minneapolis, the City Pages‘ swag included, but was not limited to, chapstick, Lund’s grocery bags and discount coupons to the race track. Uh, ew…they were so lame, I blushed every time I had to hand someone their ‘winning prize.’
I’m beginning to grasp the reality of San Francisco’s laid back, totally open-minded, somewhat crazy reputation. It’s incredible and I’ve only been here an official two weeks and counting. I’m pretty pumped to continue adventuring.
I tried the deliciously strange concotion on the left
While sampling a few brews myself, I happened upon a watermelon beer. Tangy with childhood memories of jolly-ranchers, this beer was cool for about one small glass and then I was on to something with a little more meat. Beef beer. Not really. Actually, I think I switched to water soon after, due to the fact that these free beers ending up being my breakfast, lunch and nearly dinner.
I did get in a couple personal photos during the day. A woman was completely fascinated by my mustard-yellow tights and pulled me into a photo with her and her friends. She was a bit on the beastly side, friendly and sporting a ‘wild cat‘ Tshirt of some sort. She somehow managed to convince me to kick up my leg and allow her to hold it. Apparently, this would be impressive in said photo. After the camera clicked, I had to jerk my limb away from the women’s tight grasp, as she gave me a little smirk.
Yellow tights are hot hot hot with marching bands and people with BACs .1 and higher
As the sampling continued, I started to notice multiple pairs of googly eyes following both me and my partner in crime. An Indian man and his friends took our photo shortly after the incident with the cat woman. It was fairly awkward and yet still flattering. He also liked my tights more than my face, tits or personality. They were quite a hit with the drunks.
A wonderful day indeed, cheers to my first day on the job as a marketing elite.
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No lions, tigers, or bears; the band Zoo Animal’s name is far from the cages of formerly wild creatures. Behind the trio of soothing instruments lies a meaning much less obvious to the average listener. Guitarist and vocalist Holly Newsom shyly explains the name as it correlates to her “real” home being in Heaven as opposed to on Earth; the analogy is to an animal’s real home not being a zoo. Uh oh—religion. A scary combination of words to any music writer, “Christian band” never signals a product deserving of a second listen. Thank God the band of animals agreed.
“We don’t call ourselves a ‘Christian band,’” bassist Tim Abramson clarifies. “The Christian-music industry usually means cheesy and artificial. We’re just asking people to see things in a different way, but we’re not preaching.”
A quick earful of Zoo Animal’s peaceful sound won’t immediately cue thoughts of Jesus and Mary, but a closer listen to Newsom’s lyrics may call attention to the faith-based feelings behind the melodies. Whether or not you personally want to pair the music with religion is your decision. Drummer Thom Burton is the non-Christian in the group, and says he has no problem with his bandmates’ religious affiliations quietly finding a way into their music.
“All musicians and artists write what they know, what’s inside of them, and therefore I can completely back it,” he says. “It resonates with me because it’s very personal. If you believe in the things you write about, whether I too believe in them or not, it’s the emotion behind them.”
Zoo Animal’s first full-length, Young Blood, is full of light reflections, perfumed hints of summer breeze, and chilled winter evenings in deep thought. Abramson describes their music as “minimalist grunge-pop,” a soulful combination of melodies and bare bones with a rock hinge. Tracks like “My Lord,” “Kitchen,” and “Hold Tongue” paddle softly through deep, watery bass, floating on sweet humming guitar, sometimes surprising with a rocky chorus or stark halt.
Newsom’s voice is the hook. Hazy and laced with vintage twang, it almost whispers at the end of some phrases, while contrarily resonating with power and conviction at others. She may be only 23, but there’s an old soul residing beneath that ribcage.
Newsom had been playing solo for years under her maiden name, Holly Hanson, but eventually realized that she wanted her backing band to have more artistic input.
“I didn’t want my bandmates to be bored by something I wrote. I thought they should be able to play something they wrote as well,” she says. Today, Newsom writes the foundation to most of the band’s songs and asks the guys to add their personal touches.
“I will purposefully come to practice with a song disjointed so the guys can help me make it better.” She smiles as the sun sets on a beautiful summer evening, bees pollinating the flowers behind her. “Zoo Animal’s philosophy is from me, but the aesthetic is from the rhythm section. They make us cool.”
The band members agree that they aim for a more minimal sound from creation to presentation, letting simple inspirations drive the points they aim to make both musically and lyrically.
“Even if the point is weird,” adds Burton.
“Or we don’t know what it is,” Abramson smirks.
While Newsom keeps in mind that nothing under the sun is really new, she pushes herself to recycle old ideas and reformat the familiar. When she’s writing new material, Newsom gives herself rules, like using only two chords, forcing simplicity to yield creativity. The bottom line for Zoo Animal is avoiding repetition and challenging the audience to a battle of inner thoughts.
After the band finished a song at a recent show, the audience sat in silence, their eyes fixed on the three stage inhabitants, their faces a mess of confused looks. While some bands might take offense at the reaction, Zoo Animal’s members were ecstatic.
“We love it when the bar quiets down and people are really listening,” Abramson says.
Newsom’s lyrics aren’t always straightforward, and careful listeners are definitely rewarded. Unfortunately, finding a crowded bar full of devoted ears isn’t easy.In a city full of party bands, Newsom wants people to be able to listen to their music and have a good time without the aid of a chemical.
“In a bar, music becomes the supplement to what people are doing—drinking and talking. But not us. We want people coming to the show who want to watch us play. It’s a hard thing to ask for in the 21-plus crowd.”
Does this mean they’re scouting out quieter venues? Ones with pews and stained glass?
“No. We’re not living in a Christian suburban world and that’s who’s running that music scene,” Newsom says. “I get nervous playing in a church. They think we sound really weird.”
ZOO ANIMAL play with the Blind Shake and Sicbay on FRIDAY, AUGUST 28, at the 331 CLUB; 612.331.1746
Categories: City Pages · Everything I write
