There isn't a word, or even phrase I could muscle together that verbalizes how I feel about Amos Lee. (For those of you who don't know Amos, firstly, shame on you. Still, he's a wonderful, soulful musician that I've adored for over five years.) Being an Amos survived groupie for this span, it's not short of astonishing when I listen to his earlier tracks, and watch it bring me to an exact point in my life. I can remember specific moments, conversations, shows, feelings, even outfits, which sometimes quite literally stops me in my fast-paced tracks. And the Amos-induced time travel varies. College mostly, but there's one album that hurls me into the early days of moving to the big desert city of Phoenix. It was only a few years post-University of Arkansas, but I was an entirely changed person, which is expected in your 20's, they say. The point? For somebody with a memory that can only be described as piss poor and often clinically concerning, to see music's ability to take me back to moments in my life like that - it's magnificent.
Bring on the sentimental flak, people.
And, Mr. Amos Lee has done it yet again. He released a new album, now his fourth, and being the fanatic that I am, I'm flying across the country to see him in one of the music capitals of our country - Nashville, Tennessee. I start to get fidgety when I even think about it.
Thankfully, I should have no shortage of entertainment over the next few months to keep me occupied. With March around the corner, I'm due for a visitor each weekend of the month (guest appearances by Mollie, Focker, April and Marcus (!!)), and then the contrary in April in which I'll be hopping around to a new stateside destination each weekend. Stay tuned for some sweet action.
And if you're curious about my boy - check out what's he's got to offer: http://amoslee.com/. You won't regret.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
No Raining on MY beer parade
Despite the inclement weather, the boyfriend, roomate and I ventured out to the much anticipated annual beer festival this afternoon. And it was raining. Let me correct myself; it was POURING (large cats and dogs to be precise), so we stopped at the local grocer, picked up three colorful umbrellas and made our way to the Arizona Strong Beer Festival.
When we arrived, it was clear who was hardcore, and who was not. Lines and lines and lines of beer stalls awaited those who were brave and thirsty. And there were thousands. Jovial, carefree, muddy, drenched and noticeably shivering, these folks paid their money to taste some beer and damnit - they did. Not everyone carried umbrellas, but those that did, seemed as unskilled with the equipment as I. At one point, I had inserted a corner of my umbrella into a Spanish gentleman's ear, and then proceeded to walk away. Apologizing as I attempted, I thought to myself, his ear might not be the same again.
And those that didn't bother the umbrella- their clothes were shiny and fish-like, as they squished from booth to booth, sliding their mini beer mug under the tap for a taste of something different, stopping only to shake the water off of them like animals. Most of the time, they'd drench an unknowing individual (me) and keep walking.
But it didn't matter. We made it out of the madness after over an hour of sampling and drunk-man ridiculing. It seemed like a mini-Woodstock, and really, I wasn't really having it. The band played some punk rock rendition of an Aladdin song. The sun had actually come out at this point and as such, the crowd was howling like drunk wolves, but it was time.
Maybe next year it'll be all sunshine. I shake my fist at the weather, but only so far. This is the first drop of rain we've seen in 2011, and for that matter... in six months. Oh Arizona...
When we arrived, it was clear who was hardcore, and who was not. Lines and lines and lines of beer stalls awaited those who were brave and thirsty. And there were thousands. Jovial, carefree, muddy, drenched and noticeably shivering, these folks paid their money to taste some beer and damnit - they did. Not everyone carried umbrellas, but those that did, seemed as unskilled with the equipment as I. At one point, I had inserted a corner of my umbrella into a Spanish gentleman's ear, and then proceeded to walk away. Apologizing as I attempted, I thought to myself, his ear might not be the same again.
And those that didn't bother the umbrella- their clothes were shiny and fish-like, as they squished from booth to booth, sliding their mini beer mug under the tap for a taste of something different, stopping only to shake the water off of them like animals. Most of the time, they'd drench an unknowing individual (me) and keep walking.
But it didn't matter. We made it out of the madness after over an hour of sampling and drunk-man ridiculing. It seemed like a mini-Woodstock, and really, I wasn't really having it. The band played some punk rock rendition of an Aladdin song. The sun had actually come out at this point and as such, the crowd was howling like drunk wolves, but it was time.
Maybe next year it'll be all sunshine. I shake my fist at the weather, but only so far. This is the first drop of rain we've seen in 2011, and for that matter... in six months. Oh Arizona...
Monday, February 7, 2011
The Underworld: Objectum Sexuality
I was thinking to myself this week, it really has been too long since you've done a good underworld post. And within a matter of days, I was flustered - and intensely fascinated with - an underworld-badge-of-honor network of people brought to my attention by my favorite podcast, Stuff Mom Never Told You. They call themselved objectum sexuals. Put simply: these are individuals who are sexually attracted to... objects.
Commonly referred to as "OS," this subset of individuals express passionte feelings and emotions of arousal, attraction, adoration, LOVE, and desire for inanimate objects. For buildings. For bridges. For amusement park rides. For couches. For washing machines.
Is this serious?
Apparently. As I looked deeper into the subject, there was much to feast my eyes upon. One account was a woman who was in love with a fence. She described her extreme attraction to one particular fence, explaining to the cameraman that she "wanted to get to know it better." Looking notably giddy, she confessed to having a weakness to fences as a whole, mostly because of their perfect geometry. Before the fence, it was a bow and arrow named Lance. The connection she had "on every level" with Lance- from an onlisteners perspective - was something you'd expect to hear across the restaurant from a table full of 20 somethings, recounting their latest canoodles over Bellinis. "Foreplay, afterplay...all of that, and the emotional aspect is probably similar.. "The sex is really great for me, so if everyone else is having that kind of sex, I think it's wonderful. The world should have more of that."
This woman... turns out to be the infamous Erika La Tour Eiffel. Sound familiar? Focus on the last name. That's right. She married the Eiffel Tower.
Another instance is a female named Amy who's madly in love with an amusement park ride, the 1001 Nacht in Pennslyvania. Video footage shows Amy caressing the rusty appendage, perhaps the thigh, and whispering sweet nothings to herself as she douses herself in Nacht's oil. Amy first laid eyes on the ride when she was 13, but knowing the feelings of passion for Nacht weren't normal, she stayed in the closet. Ten years later, though she would likely be labeled by most passerbys as a proud lesbian, she remains faithful to one "man," sleeping with pictures of the 1001 Nacht on her ceiling and carrying around its nuts and bolts with her.
And you thought you had problems.
And then there's Eija, the woman who coined the term objectum sexuals, who fell in love with... the Berlin Wall. I have to stop. I really do. Are we actually expected to accept the claim that these women (and it's generally the ladies we're seeing here) are choosing this as a sexual preference? I'm extremely hesitant to jump on that bandwagon. Very little research has been done on OS, and most of the media coverage that has even reported on it has taken place internationally. The small amount of research that has been done, links OS to Asperger's Syndrome, which makes sense due to the trouble individuals with Aspergers have making social connections with human beings. But as I said, very little information is out there on the subject.
The jury remains hung (yet again, shocker) on the matter. Objectum Sexuality - tragic, comic entertainment, downright demented, or a little bit of it all?
See for yourself. I imagine it's gonna be a hefty task getting to sleep tonight..
Commonly referred to as "OS," this subset of individuals express passionte feelings and emotions of arousal, attraction, adoration, LOVE, and desire for inanimate objects. For buildings. For bridges. For amusement park rides. For couches. For washing machines.
Is this serious?
Apparently. As I looked deeper into the subject, there was much to feast my eyes upon. One account was a woman who was in love with a fence. She described her extreme attraction to one particular fence, explaining to the cameraman that she "wanted to get to know it better." Looking notably giddy, she confessed to having a weakness to fences as a whole, mostly because of their perfect geometry. Before the fence, it was a bow and arrow named Lance. The connection she had "on every level" with Lance- from an onlisteners perspective - was something you'd expect to hear across the restaurant from a table full of 20 somethings, recounting their latest canoodles over Bellinis. "Foreplay, afterplay...all of that, and the emotional aspect is probably similar.. "The sex is really great for me, so if everyone else is having that kind of sex, I think it's wonderful. The world should have more of that."
This woman... turns out to be the infamous Erika La Tour Eiffel. Sound familiar? Focus on the last name. That's right. She married the Eiffel Tower.
Another instance is a female named Amy who's madly in love with an amusement park ride, the 1001 Nacht in Pennslyvania. Video footage shows Amy caressing the rusty appendage, perhaps the thigh, and whispering sweet nothings to herself as she douses herself in Nacht's oil. Amy first laid eyes on the ride when she was 13, but knowing the feelings of passion for Nacht weren't normal, she stayed in the closet. Ten years later, though she would likely be labeled by most passerbys as a proud lesbian, she remains faithful to one "man," sleeping with pictures of the 1001 Nacht on her ceiling and carrying around its nuts and bolts with her.
And you thought you had problems.
And then there's Eija, the woman who coined the term objectum sexuals, who fell in love with... the Berlin Wall. I have to stop. I really do. Are we actually expected to accept the claim that these women (and it's generally the ladies we're seeing here) are choosing this as a sexual preference? I'm extremely hesitant to jump on that bandwagon. Very little research has been done on OS, and most of the media coverage that has even reported on it has taken place internationally. The small amount of research that has been done, links OS to Asperger's Syndrome, which makes sense due to the trouble individuals with Aspergers have making social connections with human beings. But as I said, very little information is out there on the subject.
The jury remains hung (yet again, shocker) on the matter. Objectum Sexuality - tragic, comic entertainment, downright demented, or a little bit of it all?
See for yourself. I imagine it's gonna be a hefty task getting to sleep tonight..
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Bastard! *Snap Straight Up*
Most of you don't know Lizzy, so I suppose now is as good a time as ever to give her a little ink. Oddly enough, when I met her over three years ago, I was her unpaid intern. We didn't not converse, but we really didn't communicate one-on-one. I was the intern whose "office" was in the copier room, so it made sense. After the internship, I became her coworker, and we worked side-by-side on one of the agency's largest accounts. We started doing happy hours, and happy hours turned into Wednesday night dinners. Wednesday night dinners brought forth wine, Modern Family and Cougar Town, and wine brought forth a confession that I irrationally missed my hamburger phone. It wasn't long after that Wednesday, that Lizzy came into my office holding my very own - modern hamburger phone (see photo). And only a few months later after that, I accepted a job which would make me her client. As a parting gift, she gave me her childhood koosh ball, which really spoke for itself.
Not all that surprisingly, we made the new client/agency arrangement work. I remember when I was serving jury duty, I was parking at the agency, since it was close to the courthouse. Every day I would walk by her office window - always late, somehow - and I'd slap a post-it to the glass as I shuffled by, almost always alarming her and certainly always with a snide message. Some days she waited, her keen eye on the window to catch me in the act, and most days, I returned from court to find a note of my own, stuck to the inside of the window and facing out towards the street.
But label as we did those sticky-note months, it's actually quite complicated to attempt a sticky-note-esque label on Lizzy. In fact, it might be easier to describe her by the things she dislikes, than what she really likes. Allow me to begin: The iPhone; people who wear heels at sporting events; people who wear the wrong jerseys to sporting events (insert Phoenix Suns jersey at an Arizona Diamondbacks game); dogs in baskets; people in costumes (yikes, mascots); parking (this is a BIG one); loud noises (like a firework); drivers who dramatically slow down for cops; LOL; odd volume levels (She likes to stick to the evens, while I insist on multiples of five); slow texters (specifically not responding for hours to a simple text); and bastards.
I know the list will keep growing, and even as she drives further and further away as I type (turn around, damnit!), the good times do not plan to stop rolling. My fearless friend - snap straight up! (see photo) - I'm excited for you to open this new chapter in your life, and even more excited to be a part of it, a mere 300 miles east. Take a picture of those wallscapes, and keep your eye on the mailbox for you may soon be receiving you very own... Big Carl.
Bastard!
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Heidi, the Cross Eyed... OMG
When news hit the US of a cross-eyed possum named Heidi, dubbed Germany's latest star, it's no surprise that the floodgates opened wide and headed right for my inbox. Emails, phone calls - the works, all making sure I was aware of this varmint in the Leipzig Zoo. In fact, there were two separate newpaper articles, hand clipped and waiting for me on my desk when I returned from Costa Rica.
So, as I read on to find out what the German fuss was about, I found myself aghast. See for yourself, why don't you?
While I enjoy a freak-show as much as the next guy, this Heidi character really bothered me. The crossed-eye charm, they're saying, is due to her being so overweight... which, only makes Heidi look even more petrifying if you ask me - what with her PROTRUDING eyes and portly, unsteady carcass. OMG. The fact that millions of individuals have banded together under the notion that this beast is somewhat cute... is causing me anxiety.
Crazy Germans.
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